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villlainarc · 4 years

Note

roceit highschool rivals to lovers? they argue and flirt in equal amounts and both of their respective friend groups are so tired of the romantic tension (so, maybe, they decide to take it into their own hands to get them together finally) ~ Lo 🍇

Here, Blinking In the Starlight

100 stars in the sky prompts

Summary: Roman and Janus are rivals.

(And despite what Virgil may say, that does not mean they are simply refusing to admit they’re in love.)

Pairings: Roceit, Platonic Logince, Brotherly Anxceit, Platonic Analogical

Warnings: vague fantasy(?) violence, death mention, weapon mention, an unnamed character gets stabbed (but doesn’t die and there’s no gore), what could be interpreted as non-consensual kissing (it isn’t but. the character doing the kissing doesn’t have explicit permission so. this is just to air on the safe side), implied threat of murder through poisoning, (this isn’t anywhere near as dark as those warnings make it out to be i’m just covering all my bases), three (3) swear words

Word Count: 4096

Taglist: @max-is-tired @raaindropps @kiribakuandcats @main-chive @emo-disaster @heavenly-roman

Notes:

me: *opens prompts in part so i can practice writing shorter fics*

also me: *write over 4000 words after vowing to make all of these no longer than 2k 😔🤙*

tldr this really wasn’t supposed to get this long i swear but also it’s roceit so i’m not gonna complain at least. not too much

ao3

_________________________

“Get down!” Roman cried, pointing at a spot just beyond Janus’s head.

Janus turned to see what Roman had been gesturing towards, ducking as they did. It was just in time, too, as the moment they had moved out of the way, a fist flew right over their head. They gave Roman a grateful smile before their eyes went wide and they pulled Roman flush against their chest, out of the way of someone else who had lunged at him.

“You saved me,” Roman said as soon as the danger had passed, fluttering his eyes innocently as he rested a hand against Janus’s chest.

Janus rolled their eyes at the way Roman’s hand moved to play with one of the curls by the side of their face, carefully extracting themself from Roman’s arms. “You can thank me later. How about we focus on getting out of here for now?”

“I think I’d much rather stay here with you.” Roman fluttered his eyelashes once more, peering through them to fix Janus with a pout.

“And I much rather not die, but to each their own.”

“Fair enough,” Roman conceded, twirling Janus out of the way of another incoming swing. “Dying really would put a damper on our relationship, my love.”

“Darling, you’ll have to finish saving me before we can truly call this a relationship,” they shot back.

“Oh, just admit it. You think I’m the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on.” Roman’s cocky grin refused to fade as he spun them through the surrounding chaos, never letting Janus stray more than a few inches from his arms.

“I think nothing of the sort,” they replied, letting themself be guided through a flurry of swinging swords and outstretched hands that continued their onslaught in vain as Janus and Roman waltzed their way past.

Roman merely smiled at that, lifting Janus into the air and spinning them out of the way, causing two guards with who’d been rushing towards the two of them to crash into each other.

After Roman placed Janus back on the ground, there were only three guards left standing. “If you’ll excuse me,” Roman said, lightly kissing the back of Janus’s hand. “I have one more thing to take care of before you can officially call me your true love.” Leaving Janus standing there, holding the hand he’d just kissed their hand to their chest, Roman drew his sword. In one smooth motion, he turned around and drove it cleanly through the first of the guards.

The final two took one look at their newly fallen comrade and tripped over their feet trying to get away.

“Now,” Roman said, turning back to Janus, his smile just as blinding as it had been before, “love of my life, what was the gift I was supposed to receive for rescuing the princess, again?”

“You’re incorrigible,” Janus claimed, though there wasn’t so much as a drop of venom behind it. The smile they wore as they strode towards Roman also didn’t help matters, and when they wrapped an arm around his waist and dropped him into a dip, there was no question at all that their words had been purely for show.

They held him there for a moment, smiling coyly. Then, without warning, Janus drew Roman back towards their chest as they leaned into him and met his lips in a kiss.

“Stop, stop, stop. What was that, Janus? I don’t think there’s a kiss in the blocking, is there?”

“No, you’re right. Sorry ma’am, I just got caught up in the scene.” Janus gave their director a winning smile as they set Roman upright again. “Now that you mention it though,” they said, casually adjusting their dress, “I think that final scene would be more impactful if it did end in a kiss, don’t you?”

The director frowned. “I’ll think about it,” she replied. “It looked good, I’ll admit, but both you and Roman would have to be alright with the change in blocking. So, what do you think, Roman?”

Janus turned to truly look at Roman for the first time since they’d kissed him. A smirk grew on their face as they saw the brilliantly red blush that had taken over his. “Yes, Roman, what do you think?” they asked, genuine curiosity seeping into their voice that was completely at odds with the smirk that remained firmly in place. “If I made you uncomfortable in any way, I truly apologize.”

Roman had to take several deep breaths to steady his voice, opening and shutting his mouth a total of four times in rapid succession before he managed to say, “Uh, yes. Whatever you think would be best is fine by me.”

“I’ll have to see both versions again just to be sure, so if you wouldn’t mind running the scene from the top two more ti—”

“Oh! Would you look at the time!” Roman exclaimed suddenly, gesturing towards the clock hanging on the back wall of the theater. “Doesn’t rehearsal end at five thirty? And, wow, is it really five o’clock already? You usually give us thirty minutes to change out of costume so you can give us your notes before we have to leave, right?”

“Ah, so I do. Time really does fly when you’re having fun, huh?”

“It absolutely does,” Janus agreed, offering their arm out to Roman with a smirk on their face and a twinkle in their eyes. “Let’s go get changed, shall we?” When Roman remained too frozen to take their arm, Janus dropped it to instead take his hand with a wink, leading him off the stage.

And oh, how the universe spun with that one wink.

_________________________

“They kissed me!” Roman wailed upon sliding into the passenger’s seat of Logan’s car.

“I beg your pardon?”

Had Roman been feeling like his usual fabulous self, he would have replied with a flippant, ‘Then beg,’ but as it was, he could barely manage to form a coherent thought and was far from being at the top of his game. So instead, he continued in the most melodramatic voice known to man, “Janus Adler kissed me!”

“Janus Adler, your co-star in the spring musical? The one who plays your love interest? I fail to see how this would come as a surprise.”

“No no, you don’t understand, Lo. There is not a single kiss written into that musical. Not one! They made it up, they—” Roman’s head fell into his hands at that, “Janus Adler had the audacity to improvise a kiss in the middle of a scene! And I— I’m going to have to bring this up with the director. We can’t ruin the integrity of the musical by adding a kiss that isn’t even there!”

“Mm. What musical is this, again?”

“That’s terribly unimportant. Besides, I have it on good authority that the author doesn’t care about the musical at all outside of its ability to be used as a plot device, so really, the only thing you need to know is that it must not be deflowered by a kiss that was never in any way intended to be there.”

“Is this musical a classic, then? Or is it specifically stated that there were to be no kisses, no matter how many other creative liberties are taken? Perhaps you meant that the author cares about this musical’s use as a plot device, it’s lack of kisses, and nothing else? Is it—”

“That doesn’t matter, it’s the principle of the thing, Logan!”

“Interesting.”

“What is?”

“How did you react when Janus kissed you?” Logan deflected.

“I— what? Why do you— That doesn’t have anything to do with this! At all! And for the record, my reaction to them kissing me out of the blue was perfectly normal!”

“So you cringed at the fact that someone you are not romantically or sexually interested in kissed you? Or did you shove them away and tell them to never do that again because you so clearly don’t have a crush on them? Perhaps y—”

“You’re absolutely right, I don’t have a crush on them, but why did you feel the need to point that out?”

Logan sighed. “No reason at all. Now, did you react in any of those ways?”

“…Yes.”

“If you insist,” Logan said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“I very much do. Now, I would like to get home sometime within this century, so if you could drive me home and stop pestering me, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“I’m going to force you to get your own car one day, you know.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

_________________________

“I kissed him!” Janus wailed as they fell backwards onto Virgil’s bed like an ailing Victorian lady.

“That’s fantastic. Get the fuck out of my room now?”

Janus sat up with a huff, dropping their over-dramatized persona. “Virgil, my dearest brother whom I love with my entire heart, you are the worst.” They fell backwards once more. “You don’t understand,” they said, bringing a hand to their forehead. “I kissed Roman Kingsley!”

“Roman Kingsley, your co-star in the spring musical? The one who plays your love interest? Isn’t that, like… supposed to happen? Don’t love interests normally kiss in musicals?”

“Well, yes, but not in that scene. I improvised a kiss, Virgil. Do you not understand how weird that is? Roman probably hates me.” They pouted at Virgil, looking solely for sympathy as they knew, judging by the blush on Roman’s face, that he very much did not hate them.

“Wow, that really sucks,” Virgil deadpanned. “Must be so awful to have the person you have constantly referred to as your rival hate you.”

“It is— wait, no. I don’t— did I really call Roman— oh, that’s interesting. Well, we aren’t exactly rivals anymore, especially since I started presenting more feminine and getting more female leads than male ones, you know? Less fighting over roles. And I don’t think he ever hated me, even when we were more officially rivals. There’s a very specific connotation implied when you refer to two people as rivals, and it doesn’t involve flat-out animosity, so—”

“Right,” Virgil nodded in agreement. “The connotation is lots of sexual and or romantic tension followed by pining. You don’t have to tell me, I know rivals implies fanfiction-style rivals to lovers, four hundred thousand word slow burn—”

“You know what! I think that’s enough, thank you. That isn’t what I meant by rivals, and you know it.”

“Did I really? Are you sure you weren’t implying that you might have at least a little bit of a crush on Roman Ki—”

“Oh, you are hilarious, Virgil. Truly.”

“I try,” Virgil grinned, fully looking up from his phone for the first time since Janus had entered the room. “Now, what was that about Roman?”

“Rivals,” they said, completely ignoring the blush they could feel rising on their face. “Rivals, and nothing more.”

“For someone who was cast as one of the lead roles in this musical, you’re awfully bad at acting.”

“I have no idea what you mean, though I do believe you asked me to leave your room, and I’d loathe to ignore your request.”

“Aw, you sure you don’t want to stick around now? I was just getting started!”

“And now you’re done! Funny how that works, isn’t it? Thank you so very much for your input, Virgil, now I recommend watching what you drink for the next several days.”

“Love you too.”

_________________________

“Hey L?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“Janus is an idiot.”

“While that is true, I’m now inclined to ask what they did this time in particular.”

“Y’know how they’ve had the most obvious, stupid, disgustingly sappy crush on Roman for the longest time?”

“Ah, how could I have missed it?”

“Right? Anyway, I want to rub their vehemently denied feelings in their face and get them and Roman together.”

“Hm, I second that. Roman has been similarly insufferable.”

“Good to know that they’re both utter morons.”

“You say that like it wasn’t already the most obvious thing in the world.”

“Touché.”

“Did you have a plan?”

“Oh, hell no. Please. Planning is for losers, procrastinating until the last possible second is where it’s at.”

“Virgil—”

“Yeah, yeah, procrastination is bad or whatever the point is that I am very much looking to you when it comes to understanding the allos. Help me Logie Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.”

“If you’re going to make a science fiction themed nickname, please do not make it a Star Wars one.”

“Fine, but only if you agree to help me.”

“You don’t need to bribe me, Virgil. Getting out of hearing Roman pine hopelessly after someone who is very much in love with him is incentive enough for me.”

“Good,” Virgil said with a smile, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder. “But we’re finishing this movie before any planning is going to take place.”

“…Please tell me you don’t hope to enact this plan tomorrow.”

“Okay, I won’t then,” Virgil agreed, deliberately saying nothing else.

“You’re lucky you’re my best friend.”

“You bet I am. We’re still waiting until this movie is done, though.”

Logan sighed, but there was little more than fondness behind it. If he asked for it, Logan would give his best friend the moon. Compared to that, sacrificing a few hours of sleep was negligible at worst and at best, it would be beyond worth it to see Virgil happy.

And whenever Logan spent time with Virgil, the universe did always seem to favor the latter.

_________________________

“This is a horrible plan.”

“Look, you were the one who agreed to it, you can’t blame me entirely,” Virgil said rather petulantly.

“I was running on four cups of coffee, so I feel I very much can. And you know, even then I’m fairly certain I told you that aggressively telling people what they’re feeling until they admit it really isn’t the best way to go about this.”

“Yeah, well…” Virgil shrugged. “Too late to change it up now.”

“No, it really isn—”

“Shhh,” Virgil shushed, holding a finger up to Logan’s lips. “Just roll with it.”

Logan sighed at that, having known Virgil for far too long to believe that there was any way to change his mind at this point.

“Oh!” Virgil tugged on the sleeve of Logan’s shirt to get his attention, nodding towards the person who had just walked up to the locker in front of them. “Janus’s here.”

“Hm, how wonderful.”

“We’re still doing this, right?”

Logan sighed once more, nodding his agreement. “If you insist.”

“Great!” Virgil wrapped his arm around Logan’s dragging him towards Janus, who had since stopped trying to open their locker and was now squinting suspiciously at the pair making their way towards them.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re just stopping by to say hello,” Logan said in a way that was likely meant to soothe Janus, but only put them more on edge.

“Hi,” they replied, taking a slow step backwards, growing more suspicious by the second. “I’m just going to… head off to class now.” They gave an awkward sort of wave, taking another step away from Virgil and Logan.

“Oh no you don’t,” Virgil said, his bright smile at odds with his vaguely threatening words. “We need to talk, so you’re going to skip your first class.” Upon seeing Janus open their mouth to protest, Virgil cut in, “And don’t pretend you haven’t ever skipped class before. And even if you haven’t,” he added once Janus started to protest again, “don’t pretend your grade won’t be perfectly fine either way.”

“Look,” Logan said, his tone much calmer than Virgil’s, “this conversation is important. And Virgil is right, your grades will not suffer because of one missed class.”

“…What the hell is going on? Since when has Logan Doyle been okay with skipping class?”

“Oh, my first period is free, so I am not skipping class.”

“That wasn’t really the point,” Janus pointed out with a frown. “Seriously, what the hell is going on?”

“You’ll see. How does the library work for you?” Logan asked, his demeanor still infuriatingly calm.

“You realize I have still yet to agree to this, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t matter, we’re doing it no matter what you say,” Virgil said, his smile quickly growing tired as he latched onto the sleeve of Janus’s jacket and began to tug.

Janus let out a huff at Virgil’s actions. “This is a nice jacket, let go!” When they realized Virgil most definitely was not going to let go, they gave a resigned sigh. “If I go with you to the library willingly, will you stop ruining my clothes?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but he did release his hold on his sibling’s jacket. “Don’t be so dramatic, I was far from ruining anything. Come on,” he said, motioning with his head to indicate which way they were going. “I’m sure you don’t want to miss both first and second period.”

Janus gave Virgil a tired eyebrow raise as they followed him through the crush of bodies that filled the hallway, Logan just behind them. “You would be right.”

“Oh, I know,” Virgil said, shooting a grin over his shoulder at Janus. “Speaking of things that I know,” Virgil began, strolling the library doors in a way that was entirely too casual to alleviate Janus’s suspicions, “I know you’re in love with Roman Kingsley.”

Virgil was positively beaming at what was no doubt a horrifyingly shocked look on Janus’s face. And when they turned to see a matching smug expression on Logan’s, they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the universe absolutely despised them.

_________________________

“Roman,” Virgil sing-songed from behind his friend. “Roman, Logan and I need to talk to you,” he continued in the same ominously lilting voice.

Roman turned around from his seat at the lunch table with a frown. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Logan assured him with a kind and only barely forced smile. “You have nothing to worry about, there’s just an important conversation Virgil and I believe we should have.”

“If not worried, should I be concerned? You two are acting in a way that I feel should garner concern.” Roman’s question was met with a chorus of denial, and he shrugged. “Then what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Virgil said, sliding into a chair on Roman’s right.

“Just the fact that you’re in love with Janus Adler,” Logan said, nodding his agreement with Virgil’s words before sitting down on Roman’s other side as though he hadn’t just confirmed what Roman had always known to be true: the universe was working around to clock to bring about his doom.

_________________________

“Now, love of my life, what was the gift I was supposed to receive for rescuing the princess?”

“You’re incorrigible,” Janus claimed, wearing a smile as they strode towards Roman, and when they wrapped an arm around his waist and dropped him into a dip, that smile grew coy. After a moment of holding Roman suspended just barely above the stage, Janus drew him back towards their chest as they leaned down and met his lips in a kiss.

“Finish the scene now,” the director ordered, flipping a page of her script as she marked something down in it.

“But you love me anyway, don’t you?” Roman replied without missing a beat as Janus set him upright.

“Perhaps I do,” Janus said, their voice turning unusually quiet.

Roman paused, watching them intently. “Do you love me because I saved you? Or because I’m pretty?”

“I love you because you’re you, Ro— Your Highness.”

At this, the director looked up with a frown. As far as she knew, that line wasn’t in the script. Before she could interrupt though, Roman carried on with the scene. “Do you not think I’m pretty, then?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Quite the contrary,” Janus countered. “I may not have admitted it before, but I do believe you are the most gorgeous person I have ever laid eyes on.”

“Is that so?” Roman asked, trying and failing to hide how flustered he suddenly was.

“It is indeed. There’s much I haven’t told you, Your Highness.”

“Like what?” Roman’s voice grew hushed as he stepped even closer to Janus.

“Like the fact that I love you—that I have loved you for longer than I’d care to admit.”

“Is that so?” Roman repeated, watching with wide eyes as Janus brought their hands to his face.

Janus nodded, their smile growing upon seeing Roman’s deepening blush. “What about you, Your Highness? Is there anything you’ve been keeping from me?”

“I think I love you too.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

“Good,” Janus said, slowly lowering their face to meet Roman’s, giving him more than enough time to pull away.

He didn’t.

So Janus Adler kissed Roman Kingsley once more, showing no signs of ever wanting to stop doing so.

The director sighed, interrupting the silence that had fallen over the theater. “Look, you’re both great actors, but I think rewriting the final scene is a bit much as far as creative liberties go. Do you two have something more you want to say to each other, or…?”

Janus pulled themself away from Roman’s lips, blinking in a slightly dazed fashion. “Sorry, ma’am,” they said, smiling innocently at the director like they hadn’t been about to start shamelessly making out with their co-star on stage.

Roman coughed in an attempt to hide how out of breath he was. “What— what did you think of, uh, adding the first kiss to the blocking?”

“Or the second one,” Janus added, acting like both had been meticulously planned out over the course of at least several weeks.

Shaking her head, the director sighed again. “If you promise to stop changing the script, you can keep the first one, but I don’t think the second one really fits—”

“What about after the last line?” Janus asked, clearly having no ulterior motives when it came to wanting to kiss Roman at any and every given opportunity.

“You mean your last line?”

“No, the one that’s split between the four narrators, ‘and they lived happily ever after.’ What if we kissed during that? It seems like a pretty good way to show that we—we meaning the characters, of course—are indeed living happily ever after.”

“Fine,” the director said, sounding painfully tired as she marked down the change in her script. “Now go get into costume with the rest of the cast, we still have every other scene in the show to run through.”

As soon as the director turned away, Janus offered their arm out to Roman just as they had yesterday, the same smirk on their face and the same twinkle in their eyes. This time, Roman took it. “Something’s got you feeling bolder today, hm?” Janus said, setting off for the dressing rooms just down the hall.

“Blame Logan. And your brother. Mostly your brother, actually. He’s very convincing.” Janus raised an eyebrow. “And by convincing, I mean threatening,” Roman clarified.

“That he is,” Janus agreed. “I suppose I should really be thanking them both, though. I likely wouldn’t have kissed you that second time without their intervention, and that truly is a tragedy.”

Roman flushed. “You don’t have to do that anymore, you know.”

“What, flirt? Oh, but Roman, then I’d miss seeing you get all flustered,” they pouted. “And why ever would I do that?”

“Um… because you love me?”

“You make a strong argument, but I’m afraid no amount of love will convince me that your blush isn’t the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“I take it you haven’t seen a mirror, then,” Roman replied, looking smug.

Janus merely laughed. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, love.”

“Mark my words, I’ll figure out how to turn you into a blushing mess one day. You won’t even see it coming.”

Janus stopped and turned to Roman, fluttering their eyelashes. “Is that so?” they purred, taking slow, deliberate steps toward Roman and crowding him up against the wall.

“Yes?” Roman squeaked out, captivated by the way even the fluorescent lights overhead made Janus’s mismatched eyes look utterly enchanting.

Taking pity on Roman, Janus laughed and took a step backwards. “I look forward to it, my prince,” they said, keeping eye contact with Roman as they brought his hand to their lips and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of it.

And in that moment, the whole universe felt perfect.

_________________________

finding other things i’ve written in my masterpost

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starrybethany · 4 years

Text

Clayton Keller: Part 4

Word count: 2450

I wake up for the third time, sighing in frustration at the fact that I’ve been awoken from my slumber. Clayton woke me up twice during the night by kicking me- I don’t know why this man can’t let me have my space considering it’s a California-king sized bed, but for whatever reason he needs to be pressed up against me at all times.

I close my eyelids, planning on going back to sleep for a couple more hours before deciding to start my day. But something brushes against my nose. And then there’s a poke. I open my eyelids, and as much as I know that the adoring smile that’s on Clayton’s face should warm my heart, I narrow my eyes into a glare.

How dare he wake me up.

“Oh good, you’re up,” his husky, morning voice says. Butterflies fill my stomach but I make my eyes narrow even more at his words, still upset that he woke me up. He rolls his eyes like he knows why I’m upset and rests his head back down on the pillow, not taking his eyes off of me. “You’ll get over it.”

“What time is it?” I ask through a yawn.

“Nine o'clock.”

I groan. “My body still thinks it’s five o’clock. But maybe that’s because you woke me up several times last night.” I reach my foot over to kick his thigh and he grabs it, just holding onto my ankle.

“I did? Sorry about that.”

I don’t respond, resting my head back on the pillow and closing my eyes. I just want a few minutes of peace before I have to get up and start my day. Clayton begins to laugh so I open an eye, looking over at him.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You stayed over last night.” He reaches over, lacing his fingers through mine. “And I didn’t have to convince you too.”

“More like force,” I mumble. He makes a smart remark to that but I’m too busy thinking about his words.

Shit, I did stay over last night without a second thought. In fact, I cuddled him to sleep. Is that part of this arrangement? I thought this arrangement was mainly about sex but there seems to be more of an emotional connection than sex.

I feel like I’m in a relationship again and I’m not ready for that at this point in my life. That’s the whole reason why I rejected Clayton, I feel like I’m not ready emotionally to support someone else. Even just thinking about it almost gives me a panic attack.

“So does this mean that I don’t have to hold the contract over your head anymore?”

I snap out of my thoughts, looking over at Clayton. “What?”

“Now you can just hang out with me because you want to, not because I’m forcing you to. You proved it last night,” he points out.

“I stayed with you because I knew you would say something if I tried to leave,” I half-lie, reverting my gaze to the ceiling.

“That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

“Is it? Because I tried to leave that one night and you told me that I had to stay, so why would this time be so different?” I snap, turning back to glare at him. I don’t like the direction this conversation is headed in.

“Not a morning person, I see,” he murmurs.

I scoff, throwing my feet over the side of the bed to stand up.

“Where are you going?” He inquires.

“Home.” I grab my phone from his bedside table and head out of his bedroom and to the entrance. I’m pulling my shoes onto my feet when he makes an appearance, leaning against the wall like I’m boring him.

“Come on, you’re really going to leave because of a little teasing?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I just want to go home, Clayton.” I check to make sure my Uber’s arrived before yanking open his front door.

“Dang, I didn’t know you were this dramatic when I first started seeing you.”

I freeze at the words, anger flowing through my veins, before deciding to keep my mouth shut for once. I do slam the door for effect on my way out, fuming on the ride home.

I don’t have all day to think about how annoying Clayton is because I eventually have classes to go to, and honestly, it’s the perfect distraction. The girl next to me was confused about the lesson so I explain it to her in simpler terms than the professor used as we make our way to the parking lot where Betsy’s car that I borrowed is waiting.

I glance towards the direction of where I parked the car, freezing when I see a familiar person leaning against the vehicle.

“Y/N? You okay?” The girl asks.

“Yeah,” I respond distantly. Clayton noticed that I’ve seen him and stands up straight, his famous smirk spread across his face. “Um, does that make more sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” she nods. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime. See you next week,” I bid, hesitantly making my way to my friend’s car. “What are you doing here?”

“Felt bad after this morning so I decided to surprise you,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal but I can tell from his tone that he’s watching me closely for a reaction.

“How did you even know where I go to school?”

“I saw your shirt once and it had the school mascot on it. And I drive past here on my way to the rink every day so I’ve seen you a couple of times,” he admits.

I nod, crossing my arms over my chest and make eye contact with him. I don’t know why I’m giving him such a hard time, it’s not like our argument was that big of a deal. He was just pointing out that I stayed the night without a protest, but I guess I don’t like that I even did that so I’m punishing him for it. I know it’s not his fault and I know it’s petty of me to be acting like this, but I want to keep the upper hand in this relationship or whatever it is.

I feel like most of our rules favor him, so if I can win minor battles like this then I feel like we’re more equals.

“So I got you an apology present.” He pulls his hands out from behind his back and presents a small, square box to me.

I give him a questioning look but he nods towards the gift, so I take it into my own hands, brushing my fingers against his, and open the top of it. A bracelet with a thin gold chain with crystals around the chain lays in the box. It’s stunning. I’m not usually the type of person to wear bracelets, but I know once I put this bracelet on I won’t be able to take it off.

“Clayton it’s gorgeous,” I murmur, unable to take my eyes off of the bracelet. I know he has a smug look on his face from my reaction but I ignore it, setting the box on the hood to pick up the bracelet.

“Let me help,” he orders, taking the bracelet from my hands gently. I hold my wrist out to him and he wraps the bracelet around my wrist, the cold metal touching my skin. He clasps it but holds my wrist in his hands for a couple more moments.

I let him.

His hands drop and he takes a step back but his eyes tell me that he doesn’t want to.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. It’s his tell that he’s about to ask me something important but wants to disguise it as unimportant, so I pay attention closely.

“I might go to the club with some friends but we haven’t planned anything concrete yet. Why?” Betsy said that she wanted to have a one night stand this weekend but I don’t know if she wanted Tyler and I to be her wingmans or if it was something that she was just going to do off of Tinder.

“We have a game tomorrow night and you should come.” I give him a look of uncertainty and he laughs. “Would it make you feel better if I used the deal against you?” I nod and he laughs again. “Rule three.”

“I forgot what rule three is,” I admit.

“You have to do romantic things with me. And going to my game is romantic,” he responds, leaning against the car.

I resist the urge to yell at him that he’s going to scratch Betsy’s paint, a fear of mine since she’s letting me borrow her property for free. “You think that me watching people beat you up and you beating other people up is romantic?”

“In an odd way, yes.”

“What time is it?” I tilt my head.

He raises his arm to look at his watch. “It’s two o’clock right now-””No, dumbass, what time is your game?” I giggle.

“Oh,” he blushes in embarrassment. “It’s at seven o’clock against the Winnipeg Jets.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Am I supposed to have any clue who that is?”

He cracks a smile. “Just know that you’re supposed to be cheering for the guys in red. I’ll leave you a ticket and an arena pass at the ticket window, just make sure you have your ID on you.”

I nod, watching as he walks towards his jeep. “Oh, and Clayton?” He turns around to face me, walking backwards. “Don’t lean against the car again.”

A cheeky grin covers his face as he turns back around and I try my best to ignore my blush as I get into Betsy’s Honda.

The usher leads me down to my seat and I’m surprised to see that there are already a few women and children in the seats next to mine. I smile politely at them as I sit down but make no effort to talk to them, instead pulling out my phone.

They talk in hushed voices to each other, trying their best to keep their words quiet but I can still hear some of what they’re saying.

“... Clayton can get a girl so pretty. No, really, aren’t you surprised, Ashley?”

“Say something to her!”

“But Clayton told us not to talk to her otherwise we’ll scare her off.”

Oh, so they know Clayton. How do they know Clayton? They’re gorgeous girls, don’t get me wrong, but they can’t be his hookups. He wouldn’t be as disrespectful to sit me next to his hookups, right? And they wouldn’t be friends if he was with all of them.

“Since when does Clayton control us, Rachel?”

“Fine, then you say something to her.”

“Hi.” At the word my head snaps up and I turn to see the brunette in the group is the one who’s talking to me. The two blondes are watching our conversation. “You’re with Clayton, right?”

“Something like that.”

She nods like she understands. “I’m Abby, Nick Schmaltz’s girlfriend, he plays on the team with Clayton. This is Rachel, Taylor Hall’s girlfriend and Ashley, Jordan Oesterle’s fiance.”

They look at each other excitedly, which I assume means they’re freshly engaged.

“So tell us more about yourself,” Rachel encourages, “Do you go to school?”

“Um, yeah, I go to a college not far from here.”

“Cool, what are you studying?”

I’m trying to be polite but this just feels weird to me. With the situation that Clayton and I are in, I’m not sure why he would invite me to his game and knowingly seat me next to some of the WAGs. It seems like something too intimate, something that a girlfriend would do and not a sugar baby.

I understand if he wants me to go to his games but to introduce me to people like I’m staying around for a while strikes me as odd.

We chat for a while before the game starts, then the conversation kind of dies down as we all focus on the game. I know hockey a little bit but I don’t know all of the rules so the girls explain some things for me when I rarely ask questions. I don’t want them to think that I’m dumb, even though I don’t know why I care what they think of me, so I keep most of my questions to myself and remain clueless.

I guess the Coyotes lose because the stadium is quiet as the game comes to an end.

“Are you coming to the locker room with us?” Abby asks as they stand up and collect their things.

“Oh, um, I’m not sure if Clayton would like that,” I confess.

“Well you have an arena pass so I’m assuming that he wants you to,” Rachel answers, motioning to the lanyard that I forgot was around my neck.

I follow them down to the locker room as they chat about the game, only answering questions when they direct them to me.

I wait awkwardly as all of these big men leave the locker room, approaching their WAG and greeting them before leaving with a friendly smile.

Abby, Rachel, and Ashley introduce me to their partners who exchange some kind words with me before leaving. All three girls make sure to get my phone number, promising me pedicures and a coffee.

I’m overwhelmed by the time Clayton exits the locker room and approaches me with a teammate in tow.

“So I heard that you lost,” I blurt out, unsure of what to say.

He smiles and the friend behind him laughs loudly and I quickly apologize at my words.

“So how did you like the game?” Clayton inquires.

“It was good,” I nod.

“Oh, um, Y/N this is my roommate and teammate, Christian. Christian, this is the girl that I was telling you about, Y/N,” the brunette introduces us and I reach out to shake his roommate’s hand.

What does ‘this is the girl that I was telling you about’ supposed to mean? What has he told him about me? Has he told him about our deal? Damn, I should’ve included a non-disclosure rule in the contract.

“Come back to our house with me,” Clayton demands. I roll my eyes but nod, knowing there’s not much place for argument.

And somehow I end up in his bed again.

“If I fall asleep here, wake me up,” I order, already feeling my eyes droop.

He doesn’t take me seriously because once again, I wake up in his bed.

#NHL imagines #Clayton keller imagine #Clayton keller fanfiction #coyotes imagine #clayton keller

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stealingpotatoes · 4 years

Text

Echoes

AO3 link

Summary: Emily decides to make use of the Serkonan guitar she found on the Dreadful Wale, trying to remember what her father taught her.

Despite there being no windows in her cabin on the Dreadful Wale, Emily knew it sunset would be slowly beginning outside. She was sat on her bed, cleaning and sharpening her father’s sword rather purposefully, even though it didn’t really need cleaning or sharpening at all (it wasn’t like she used it for much more than deflecting). Still, her father had always told her about the importance of maintaining weapons, and she wasn’t about to stop paying attention to his training now. Plus, she didn’t want anything ruining the blade’s folding mechanism.

Emily stood up and folded the blade as a quick check. It folded up swiftly and neatly, as it was meant to.

It had taken her a fair few tries to get the motion of activating the fold just right when she’d first got the blade. Her father had barely let her use his sword before, so she’d just had to go off years of watching him and the very few times he’d let her try it. Though, after using it so much, she got why her father generally didn’t let anyone use his blade; it was a very nice sword, and frankly Emily wasn’t sure if she wanted to give it back. Maybe she’d see about having one of her own made once she took back Dunwall Tower (which she was going to do).

Emily unfolded the sword again and dropped into a pointed fighting stance. She looked down the end of blade and her eyes caught a flash of turquoise-blue mostly hidden behind the fabric over the storage area. She tilted her head and squinted at whatever it was.

Emily walked forward, folding the sword back up, and moved the fabric back to see a Serkonan guitar, haphazardly sitting on the bottom of the rack-thing. She picked the guitar up and inspected it, before running a hand over its smooth, painted-turquoise surface. The guitar had been in Emily’s room -- the guest cabin -- since she’d arrived on the Dreadful Wale. Apparently, the previous inhabitant of the cabin had left it there (as well as his diary, which had been an interesting-ish read). Emily had put it away somewhere to make more room on the desk not long after they’d left Dunwall, and promptly forgotten about it.

Okay, partially to make more room. Mostly because it reminded her of her father, and she’d be attacked with the fresh memory of everything that happened in the throne room every time she thought about him too much. And that wasn’t helpful at all on the journey from Dunwall to Karnaca, during which Emily could do precisely nothing about anything, and everything made her feel more helpless and useless.

Emily moved to sit down on her bed and put the guitar on her lap. It felt weirdly familiar in her hands, in a way Emily couldn’t quite describe properly. She plucked a few strings. It sounded like it was in tune (if she remembered what in tune sounded like).

Emily was about to try it again when a knock on the open door startled her. She looked up to see Anton standing in the cabin’s doorway.

Emily smiled. It was good to see Anton up on his feet again. Emily wouldn’t have gone so far to say he looked completely healthy, but he certainly looked much better than when she’d first found him. Dr. Hypatia had helped him a lot while she had been on the ship, and both Emily and Meagan were incredibly thankful for how she’d helped, even if the latter hadn’t shown it all that well.

“Meagan asked me to tell you that ‘grub’s up’ ,” Anton said, with a slight funny face on that last part.

Emily managed to stop herself from saying something about how Meagan shouldn’t have sent Anton, because he wasn’t well, instead saying, “Thank you. I’ll be there in a bit.” After a moment, she looked back down to the guitar pensively.

“Do you know how to play at all?” Anton asked, raising an eyebrow at the guitar.

“My father taught me a little,” Emily strummed a chord as a sort of proof and glanced back up at Anton.

“Oh,” Anton said, with some surprise. Emily wasn’t sure if the surprise was about her playing the guitar, or her father. Maybe both.

Emily tried a few more chords, hoping muscle memory would kick in soon, “I only remember one or two songs. I think they’re Serkonan folk songs.”

“Perhaps we’ll be able to hear them later?”

Emily half-started a song, but quickly played a note wrong and winced to herself. “If I can actually remember how to play,” she said sheepishly.

There was a short silence before Anton gave her a knowing smile, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Emily smiled back, albeit more awkwardly, “Thank you.”

Anton closed the door a little and walked away. Emily soon heard the muffled-by-distance sound of him talking to Meagan about something.

Emily looked down at the guitar again and began silently practicing her hand movements for the chords on the neck of the guitar, counting the steps in her head.

“ Okay… ” Emily whispered to herself, satisfied she could more-or-less remember the song. She took a breath and started correctly playing the chords in order.

After some moments, she quietly started singing along, every so often humming the words she couldn’t remember.

Corvo finished the song with one final strum.

“How was that?” he asked, his hand resting on the body of the guitar.

Emily smiled, “Good. It was really good.”

Corvo smiled back. “If you practice, maybe we can play together,” he half-joked, gesturing to the piano Emily was seated at.

Emily scrunched up her face in disagreement.

She knew the only reason her father still sometimes tried to get her to practice the piano was because her mother always wanted her to, and Corvo was more or less clinging to any semblance of life before her mother’s death, even now, almost two years after the assassination. It wasn’t because playing the piano was actually something he thought she should know how to do. They both knew it was dumb and unimportant, and that Emily could definitely be doing something more useful with her time.

But seeing as it was something of remembering the past or whatever, it didn’t seem right that Emily stop trying to get out of practicing, because that’s what she’d always done before. So she continued to whine about it, every time-- for old times’ sake.

Her father usually just sat there, listening to Emily’s not-very-good piano playing and writing or checking reports, or something Lord Protector-y or spymaster-y like that, and occasionally encouraging her to keep going when she dramatically stopped.

So she’d admittedly been a little confused when her father had told her to stay put and left the drawing room Emily had been practicing in after she’d expressed a want to never play the piano again, only to come back holding an old-looking and bare wooden Serkonan guitar.

But the confusion quickly turned to pleasant surprise when Corvo had asked if Emily wanted to hear something on the guitar. She had obviously said yes,

And well... she’d forgotten how good he was- at both the guitar and singing. It wasn’t as if he had the best singing voice ever, but it most certainly wasn’t bad. It was low and comforting, and the way his hands moved along the guitar, with the same deftness with which he fought, was nice to watch.

The last time she remembered him playing for her was years ago, (though Emily realised he must have practiced since then). Though, she was fairly sure she remembered overhearing him play for her mother on the nights Emily snuck out of her room to secretly listen to them. That felt like a forever ago.

“How long have you had that?” Emily asked.

Corvo looked down at the guitar with a somewhat sad smile. “Since I left Karnaca... it was my father’s, but my mother gave it to me as a parting gift when I was sent off.” He looked back up to Emily.

Emily nodded slowly. She knew precious little about Corvo’s family before her and her mother. He’d happily tell her all about Serkonos if she asked, but he’d always get somewhat cagey when talking about his family in Karnaca. He wouldn’t directly say ‘no’, instead he’d subtly and swiftly change the subject. And whenever he did, Emily always found herself fighting off the urge to remind her father that they were technically her family too, so she deserved to know about them.

“I used to play to get you to sleep, you know,” Corvo said.

Emily tried to ignore the fact he’d just changed the subject like he always did and tilted her head, “I don’t remember that.”

Corvo gave her a little smile-huff, “You wouldn’t; it was when you were very small. The music always got you to sleep, no matter how fussy you were being that night,” he said with a smile. Emily then guessed that he started thinking about her mother, because he suddenly adopted that uniquely distant expression he only ever had when talking about memories with her.

Emily stared at the guitar on her father’s lap for a few moments before deciding to speak again, “So did your father teach you? If it was his guitar…”

Corvo gave Emily a small nod, coming out of his thoughts. “Uh- a little. I learnt most of what I know from various other people though,” Corvo said, gesturing slightly with his wrist still resting on the guitar’s body.

“Can you teach me to play? Please?” Emily asked.

Corvo huffed amusedly and furrowed his brow with a smile, “What happened to‘I hate music’ ?”

“I changed my mind.”

Corvo smirked, “That’s good. I was worried Your Majesty would order an Imperial ban on all music-playing.”

Emily giggled.

After a moment, Corvo looked between the guitar and Emily, “I don’t know how good a teacher I’ll be, but I can try to show you.” He made a slight ‘come here’ gesture, and Emily grinned with excitement as she quickly hopped off the piano seat to sit next to her father, ready to learn.

#look idk either #that art the other day was inspired by this but i forgot to finish this first lol #corvo attano #emily kaldwin #anton sokolov #dishonored #dishonored fanfic #potes wrotes

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saltyromanov · 5 years

Note

Hc idea incoming: Carol and Nat havent been dateing long and nat has always been kind of more dominant in bed so far. theyre cooking dinner one night and when nat makes a sassy remark carol smacks her with the spatula and nat moans accidently and carol realizes shes into being spanked lol

Despite the fact that Natasha held her cards fairly close to her chest, Carol was still of the impression that she had gotten a pretty good read on her girlfriend. They hadn’t really known each other very long, and had been dating for even less time, but still - Carol was confident she had gotten to know the real Natasha.

The woman she had fallen for was many things, some more surprising than others. Carol could still remember the first time she tried to slip out of bed on a morning only to feel Natasha snuggling back into her side and wrapping her arms around her body so she couldn’t escape. Carol hadn’t expected Natasha to be so clingy on a morning. But you didn’t need to be dating Natasha to know that she liked to be in control. You could see it with the way she liked to lead her team. It even transferred into unimportant tasks like how the groceries had to be put away just right and the way she scolded Carol for not making the bed on a morning. Natasha could be bossy and demanding in wanting things her way, in more ways than one. Not that Carol minded it. She’d even go so far as to say she enjoyed it. It was something she found wildly attractive about Natasha, but of course she was always open to more if that was a possibility. Something that only came to the surface one evening when they were cooking dinner together.

“That’s too much salt.”

Natasha scoffed at the comment, placing the shaker back down and peeking into the pot of sauce Carol was stirring, “I know what I’m doing.”

“You so clearly don’t.” teased Carol, glancing across at the woman beside her, “And you’re gonna ruin my food again.”

Nudging Carol with her hip gently, Natasha rolled her eyes, “You’re not as good a cook as you think you are.”

With a dramatic gasp, Carol’s mouth dropped open in mock shock as she looked up from what she was doing. It was supposed to be a joke; picking up the spatula from the counter they were standing in front of and smacking Natasha playfully on the ass. But what happened next changed the atmosphere in the room considerably - the sound of the smack was quickly followed by a low moan as Natasha’s hand came down to grip the edge of the counter and she dropped her head forward with a huff.

Carol actually almost laughed in surprise, a second pause as she processed what had just happened was followed by a sly grin as she tilted her body and ducked her head in an attempt to look Natasha in the eye, “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Natasha actually cringed as her voice came out noticeably higher, keeping her eyes pointed downward as she ran her tongue over her lower lip and tried to keep her expression neutral.

Carol’s grin only widened, reaching up to tuck Natasha’s hair behind her ear so she could see her face better, “Are you sure? Kind of sounded like you enjoyed that.”

Natasha scratched the side of her nose with a shake of her head, “Nope.”

Leaning closer, Carol rested her chin on Natasha’s shoulder and lowered her voice to a whisper, “I don’t believe you.”

There was no chance for Natasha to plead her innocence further as Carol smacked her on the ass again, harder this time so it caused Natasha to let out a hiss at the sting. Her grip tightened on the counter edge, knuckles paling slightly as she let out a soft “fuck” under her breath and let her eyes drift close.

A dark chuckle left Carol’s lips, pressing a kiss to Natasha’s shoulder as she dropped the utensil back onto the counter so she could wrap an arm around Natasha’s waist and pull her body flush against her own. She left another, slightly messier kiss just underneath Natasha’s ear this time before speaking lowly against her skin, “Aw baby, you do like that don’t you?”

Natasha almost couldn’t believe how turned on she felt, her breathing coming out heavy and her skin flushing hot as her pussy throbbed and all she could manage was a quiet, breathy “Yes.”

There was nothing gentle about Carol’s touch as she ran her hand down Natasha’s waist, over her hip and down to her ass to give it a firm squeeze, “You want another, you only have to ask.”

Carol stepped a little to the side, her body half behind Natasha’s as her other hand came down to join the first, roughly skimming over Natasha’s waist in a way that had the red head subconsciously backing up to press herself into Carol.

The fact the mood shift had come almost out of nowhere didn’t seem to matter any more, Natasha grateful for the counter to hold onto for some kind of support as Carol used strong, possessive hands to squeeze and grope at her body. Leaning over Natasha’s shoulder, Carol spoke quietly in her girlfriend’s ear, “Is that what you want, baby?”

Sucking in a breath, Natasha’s chest was rising and falling rapidly now as this time she didn’t even bother trying to deny it and simply gave a hurried nod of her head, something that earned her a satisfied smile and a quick squeeze to her ass as Carol stepped slightly further behind her.

Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest as she waited for what Carol might do next, the blonde’s lips connecting with the spot where Natasha’s shoulder met her neck before she moved further back so that there was a little distance between the two of them. All that could be heard was Natasha’s heavy breathing as Carol didn’t move for a moment, simply enjoying watching the sight of her girlfriend so worked up for her. Natasha was about to turn and look at Carol, impatience getting the better of her as she found herself craving her to just touch her again.

But she didn’t get the opportunity to turn, a loud gasp spilling from her lips and she collapsed further against the counter as Carol’s hand connected hard with her ass.

“Oh god.” groaned Natasha, head falling forward again as she bit down on her lip in a pointless attempt at keeping at least an ounce of her composure.

Carol breathed out a laugh, eyes darkening at the way Natasha was reacting to her. Skimming her hands over Natasha’s hips, she pulled the red head back against her again and rested her chin on her shoulder, “Now what do you say, Natasha?”

A quiet moan was all Natasha could manage at first, her hips moving slightly as she tried to subtly grind herself back against Carol’s body. However the feeling of Carol’s teeth grazing the side of her neck and an impatient squeeze of her waist prompted her to answer her girlfriend’s question, taking a deep breath for air as she turned her head in the direction of the woman behind her, “Thank you.”

#ngl this ask got me low key hot and bothered when i first opened it #carolnat #carol danvers x natasha romanoff #carol x natasha #carol danvers #natasha romanoff #carol danvers smut #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #captain marvel #marvel fanfiction #abby.txt

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dragonfire2lm · 3 years

Text

Rubies and Sapphires: The Ruby Heart

Chapter 2: Spells and Swords

Beyond the red brick walls lay a formidable castle with towering spires, banners displayed the Clan Crest, a dragon coiled around a top hat, and Red was forced at sword point down the dirt path. The courtyard, with dead or dying plants in the neglected flowerbeds, was empty.

Were it not for the few scattered, top hat wearing people she saw looking at her curiously, warily from with the relative safety of the castle’s front gate, she would assume the place was abandoned. But that was far from the truth, the castle interior a maze of winding halls, within which the members of the infamous clan went about their business.

There was something about the place, an oppressive air that the inhabitants couldn’t shake that made her tail bristle. It set her on edge.

With Reginald in front of her and Wright behind her, sword threateningly pointed at her back, she was escorted through a pair of doors and into a large room.

“Your Majesty, we return with good news.” Reginald said smoothly, with added flourish as the trio halted before a round table.

The table was old, with a large, polished crystal inlaid in the middle of it, and several chairs placed evenly around the circumference. Seated on the black and gold throne at the head of the table, was a man wearing a black top hat with a crown in the shape of a dragon with its wings outspread.

“Good news eh?” he drawled, adjusting his red cape as he sneered at the sight of the Red. “Who’s she?”

“May I introduce The Cadmean Vixen, she assisted us in retrieving the jewels without issue.”

That caught the ruler’s attention, he swiftly rose from his seat, walking over as the two men presented the stolen gems.

“And let me guess? You think she should join the clan…”

“Her skills are indisputable-” Reginald said.

The clan ruler scoffed, snatching the ruby from him. He smirked as he inspected it. “Good job Reggie, and here I thought you were only good for scribe work.”

He eyed the ruby, a crooked grin splitting his face. “Yeah, we can do some real damage with this…”

“King Terrence?” Reginald asked and the other man snapped his gaze over to his subordinate.

The king gave Red a glance, looking her up and down. “You look human…”

“She’s a furhide.” Wright interjected.

“Tch, well Reggie, since you want her in the clan, she’s your responsibility,” Terrence ordered as he pocketed the ruby. “Take the Star Sapphire to the vault and give the furball a run-down of the joint... Oh and due to the shortage of rooms, she’ll be staying in the stables. I’m not wasting space on a stray.”

With his orders given, King Terrence turned on his heel and left the room with purpose, cape swishing behind him.

She heard Wright sheathe his sword.

“Well, it could have gone worse.” Reginald stated.

Wright snorted as Red glanced between the two of them. This, admittedly, was uncharted territory for her. She had spent how knows how long working by herself, living day-to-day, and relishing the few brief moments of having food readily available and a roof over her head, that suddenly being thrust into this group of magic users was daunting.

Wright handed the Star Sapphire over to Reginald. “You head to the vault, I’ll handle the girl.”

The stables were as empty as the courtyard. The building itself was sturdy despite the minor signs of disrepair she could see on her initial inspection. Red had been left to her own devices after Wright had given a no-nonsense, brief tour of the fortress. Nothing more than showing her where the mess hall and baths were located before leading her to the stables.

“Reginald will meet you in the mess hall tomorrow, don’t keep him waiting.” Wright had warned her.

The place felt like a ghost town. Like something stripped of all that grandeur and life, leaving it a hollowed-out husk while the people simply made do.

The best she could manage in the space she had been given was finding a few tattered blankets in a chest and making a rudimentary nest in the loft.

As the first light of dawn peaked through gaps in the roof, she laid down on her makeshift bed, wide awake and alert for any signs of danger. She filled the oppressive silence not with sound, but with thoughts.

Tales of the Toppat Clan, legends, reached even her during her travels. As much as she would like to hope that maybe she had finally found somewhere to call home, the reality of her situation was impossible to ignore.

Another hells damned life under the heel of another master. Bitterly, she mused that maybe that was what she should get for being a bleeding heart and sticking her nose in someone else’s business. She knew she was being dramatic of course, but it mattered little when she had nothing but her own thoughts for company for so long.

She knew it was going to be an uphill battle, but it wasn’t in her nature to just turn tail on people without reason and the Toppats had yet to do something to betray her trust.

So here she was, trying to concoct a scheme to turn her situation into something that would benefit everyone.

*******************************************************************************************

“We’re going to rob Galeforce blind!” Terrence announced to the Toppats that sat around the table. Red herself stood behind Reginald, watching the meeting unfold.

“See we got ourselves the Radiant Ruby,” the king said, showing off the jewel in question. “With this beauty we can ensnare a dragon and with a dragon on our side, no one will be able to stop us!” he grinned, an unnatural, twisted look on his face. “Just picture it, with a dragon at my beck and call we could go anywhere and steal anything. ‘Course, we gotta get one first.”

His words made her stomach drop, disgust rolled in her stomach, and she did her best to keep a straight face as he continued.

“Now, we all know dragons love gold, and we’ll need a small fortune to lure it into the trap. So, we’re going to sweep across the land, bust through every one of Gale’s strongholds, villages, you name it, and take as much as we can carry.”

A tense silence fell around the table.

“We’ll be in sight of our first target in an hour, pick your teammates and party up.” Terrence ordered and the room became a hive of activity as people got up from their seats and left to make their preparations.

She fell in step behind Reginald and Wright.

“We’re going to capture the dragon?” she asked.

“If Terrence wants us to, then that’s what we’ll do,” Reginald replied, resigned. “We have little say in the matter.”

“Once you pass your initiation, you take the oath, and The King casts the Binding Spell that makes you a permanent member of the clan,” Wright explained as they turned down a corridor. “Terrence rewrote it when he became king, an’ there’s nothin’ we can do about it.”

“Almost nothing…” Reginald said quietly. “If I just had the ruby…”

The vixen blinked. She could help him again, a few weeks to memorize the layout of the place, give off the impression that she was harmless, unimportant and build up a reputation in the clan…

Yes, she could steal the ruby in a month if she had the time and resources. She thought about leaving but judging from what little she’d put together from their first conversation, and the revelation of the binding spell, what little morality she had wouldn’t let her stand by and ignore this.

“I can get you the ruby.” She spoke up.

The two men looked back at her in surprise.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Terrence will make an example out of you if you so much as try and that is assuming, he doesn’t just kill you.” Reginald said.

“You’re not under the spell yet girl, why don’ you get off this rock an’ leave this to us?” Wright asked with raised eyebrow. “This is Toppat business.”

She stared back them defiantly. “Because I know what it’s like, you become so used to having no say in anything, to waiting for the next order, for the next chance to be useful, that it becomes normal, acceptable even… To the point that you don’t know what to do with yourself once you finally found freedom.”

“I spent five… six years at The Wall,” she divulged, powering through the well of emotions and hazy memories the admission bought forth. “They keep furhides as guards, treat them no better than actual dogs, I needed the coin and it seemed like a good offer at the time. I only got out six months ago.”

“And since then, you’ve made a name for yourself as a thief.” Reginald summarized, the shock morphing into understanding. He shared a look with Wright.

Something seemed to pass between them, a fire had been lit as the two men moved to walk beside her.

“We’ll meet in the stables tonight after the raid and discuss this further.” Reginald stated.

She nodded and joined them as they headed to the foundry to make their preparations.

*******************************************************************************************

Hours later, Red’s head was spinning, she struggled to fight against the light-headedness as the sounds of combat roared around her. She was in her fox form, hiding in a house. She’d been separated from the Toppats as soon as the fight began, the guards had been organized, a cohesive unit that had the slap-dash tactics of the mages outmatched in minutes. She had taken refuge in the shadows, slinking into houses and storing any valuables she could find in the magical pocket realm in her tail.

She’d been unlucky enough to watch as one of the Toppats, an archer with an enchanted bow, took the sharp end of a blade to the face. Red had been forced to hide in a house because the sight had made her fee like she was going to faint. As she waited for the dizziness to subside, something crashed through the back door.

She stumbled over to hide beneath a table as someone shambled into the room. Wright, unsteady on his feet, walked in with Reginald lobbing balls of fire from his hands behind him to cover their escape.

Wright sat down on the nearest available chair. Reginald locked the door behind him and waited with bated breath.

The fight raged on outside, but no guards appeared to have noticed the two men ducking into the house. Red crept out from her hiding spot, shifting into her human form, and adjusting her robes.

“What happened?” she asked cautiously as she approached them, the worst of her dizziness fading as she focused on the two Toppats.

Reginald glanced back at her, still on edge. “His defensive wards were broken by a shield bash.”

She made a noise in sympathy as she fished around her robes. She pulled out a potion bottle and handed it to Wright. Both men were surprised by the sight of the potion.

Reginald looked at the potion, then up at her. Wright grimaced as he accepted the offered potion, unscrewed the glass lid, and downed its contents.

“Thanks.” Wright grunted already looking more alert.

“If you need more, just ask,” Red said. “I can always make more.”

“You’re an alchemist?” Reginald asked.

“I picked up a few things at The Wall.” She replied.

Reginald was quiet for a moment. “We… could use your talents in the clan, we lost our healers some time ago...”

“We got a job to do, we’ll discuss this later.” Wright said as he got up.

The three of them avoided the frontlines, breaking into houses, stores and took whatever gold and valuables they could carry.

Something exploded.

The three of them moved to an open doorway and peered out to see what was going on. Maniacal laughter could b heard as the dust cleared and Terrence stepped out of the cloud of dust.

His grin was vicious as he held a golden staff. The staff had glowing black runes carved down its length and a black crystal set into the claw shaped top of the magical weapon. The Toppat King loosed a bolt of black energy from his weapon of choice towards the busiest part of the battlefield. Guards and Toppats alike were caught in the blast, Terrence only caring for his immediate victory, and Red heard Reginald suck in a breath in horror at it all.

“His own men are in there!” Red hissed. “The hells is he thinking?”

“We can always recruit more…” Wright quoted bitterly.

“We need to help them, everyone, with me.” Reginald commanded as he led the way.

As their ruler ran rampant, the small band retrieved as many of their wounded as they could, Red’s seemingly endless supply of potions and elixirs proving to be a boon to the clan and saving countless lives.

#fanfic #fantasy AU #henry stickmim collection #reginald copperbottom #right hand man

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years

Text

A Charles Grey/Fem!Reader (Black Butler) for an anonymous commissioner. I might’ve had to much fun with this, honestly.

Word Count: 3.5k

The first time he met you, Grey saw little more than another piece of scenery. Something nice, but ultimately unimportant. Completely and utterly forgettable.

He had visited your mansion on a job, a special request from one of the Queen’s favorite nobles. Your father was highly involved with illegal affairs, and needed to be dealt with as swiftly as possible. Something about the opium trade, or forgeries, Grey didn’t really care enough about the technicalities to pay close attention. It was just another mission, another project, another excuse to play with something weak, vulnerable and helpless. Unfortunately, due to your family’s... popularity with the working-class, the dramatics would have to be kept to a minimum.

So, he happily let his target fuss over his arrival, showing him around the estate for the better half of a day. His guilt was obvious, Grey’s suspicion only concreted by nervous stutters, anxious staff, and a forced appeal. Grey couldn’t stop himself from laughing when you were hastily called over, barely given time to introduce yourself before being unceremoniously pushed to the side in exchange for one of your more impressive siblings. You left his mind easily, only popping back in later that night.

“Earl Grey?” Your voice was heavy, weighed down by sleep and lingering exhaustion. He couldn’t blame you, no one should be awake at that hour. He’d have to be quieter next time, or get permission to take care of his target’s family as well. Your nightgown was oversized, falling over your hands and feet without restriction. You rubbed your eyes, gradually waking up. “What’s going on? Are you looking for my father?”

He ignored you, not bothering with an answer. In his defense, what was he going to say? With a sword in one hand, and the other resting on the door to the Lord’s bedroom, he couldn’t exactly explain himself. Only giving you a quick ‘nothing to worry about, go back to bed’, he brushed you off, moving to open the door. The muzzle of a gun was pressed into the back of his head before he could enter, the hammer pulled back and ‘clicked’ into place a moment later.

“I’m going to ask this one more time,” You said clearly, any illusion of a daze gone. He tried to turn around, only for you to push the muzzle against him harshly. You cursed under your breath, reaching over Grey to close the door. “What do you want with my father?”

Grey chuckled, fist clenching around the handle of his saber. Finally, something exciting. From the corner of his eye, he could just see your face. Eyes glinting with focus and adrenaline, lips pulled into a thin, straight line, turned ever-so-slightly downward at the corners. It was a look he could get used to, if he had more time. “A flintlock, how old fashioned. Are you sure you can use that, little girl?”

You shrugged, staring down the sword in his left hand. He couldn’t get to you, not before you pulled the trigger or retaliated, but that didn’t stop you from being cautious. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you were an apathetic bodyguard, rather than the pampered daughter of a wealthy Lord. “I know enough to end your life.” You paused, free hand closing around his arm. You gave it a slight tug, testing his resistance. Your movements were measured, but shaky. Hell, your gun was practically shivering now. “Drop the sword, or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“So uncivilized… your maid really ought to have taught you better.” But, Grey dropped his weapon, nearly missing your relieved sigh under the clatter of metal on wood. He felt the tension leave your body, your grip on the gun loosening but not completely going slack. You half-heartedly kicked the sword away, pulling him backward and towards the empty hallway. “Do you intend to have your way with me, dear?”

You huffed, biting your cheek at the insult. Maybe you thought you were above his antics, or liked the idea more than you wanted to let on. The latter might be worth looking into at another time. He was shoved unceremoniously towards an office, released from your hold not long after. “I think we can talk this out. If you don’t hurt anyone, I shouldn’t have to hurt you.”

At this point, he could’ve gotten away. Grey could’ve pinned you down, or gone for his sword, or wretched the pistol out of your hand, or murdered you in all sorts of mess, gruesome ways. Your confidence had faded, leaving you trembling, and more importantly, exposed. But, he didn’t. The thought flashed through his mind, hanging in the air uselessly before being discarded.

A formerly dead-eyed, unnoticeable girl, now shoving him into a cramped room and making flimsy threats under her breath. You can’t blame him for being intrigued, can you?

It was a display of pure emotion, a poorly put-together plan to keep your loved ones alive. You didn’t know any better, and oh, Grey loved that. He loved burning time with someone who’s unable to put up a proper fight, even if that came in the form of watching you act like a hero.

He listened to your demands and let you play your little ‘interrogation’ game, answering all your questions with either sarcasm or a tone too childish to be genuine. None of it deterred you, though. You refused to let him out of your sight until the sun rose, demanding that he pack his things and leave before either of your parents woke up. Of course, your threats were paper-thin, lacking the real force that would’ve actually scared him. By the time he was in his taxi, waving you off with a bright smile and a truly concerning amount of enthusiasm, nothing had been accomplished aside from wasting time.

Even with the influence of Phipps’ strange looks and increasingly aggressive comments about how mad the Queen was going to be, Grey didn’t regret leaving his mission unfulfilled. Excuses could be made, and Queen Victoria would be satisfied with reassurance and explanations. He’d found something much more entertaining than a dead businessman, after all.

Despite his best efforts, Grey didn’t simply forget about you. Every spare minute he had was occupied by thoughts of you. Did you ever tell your parents what happened? Did they know about the gun you apparently slept with? Would you be excited to see him again? Terrified? Was this just routine for you? And most importantly, did you think about him in the same way he seemed to obsess over you?

Against his better intentions, he would find his answer. It was at a party, one the Queen had asked him and his counterpart to attend. It was boring, just another ball with loud music, dull guests, and mediocre food that wouldn’t quell his appetite. Nothing new, nothing exciting, nothing to do. Then, he saw you.

You were dancing, laughing, touching a man he didn’t recognize. You looked happy, relaxed, unarmed, so unlike you’d been with Grey. It threw him into a paranoid rage, the kind that could start wars. You didn’t care about him. You hadn’t spared him a second thought. He didn’t know what he expected, if he was disappointed or just irrational, but that didn’t change his desire to keep your eyes on him. Before you even noticed his presence, Grey had one arm wrapped around your waist, quickly pulling you away from the annoyance you were talking to.

“Miss me, dearest?” He purred, nuzzling into your side like an old friend. Your eyes darted around the room, obviously searching for anyone who could help. Someone to call for you, or see your clear discomfort. It was a vain effort. Everyone was already caught up in their own gossip, not that anyone would try to interrupt an Earl, regardless. “I was expecting a visit. Or a letter, at least.”

“I try not to associate with murderers.” Your voice was cold, so unlike your warmth from a few moments ago. After all the time you spend together, Grey figured he would be considered an acquaintance, if not a friend. But, that could change. That would change. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you,” He answered, honestly. There wasn’t a need to lie, not yet. Reluctantly, he let go of your waist, grabbing your hand before you had a chance to get away. A sweeter gesture. A more intimate gesture. Something that could make you trust him, if only a little. “I like you, (Y/n). And I want to get to know you, if you’ll let me.” You opened your mouth, ready to reject him, but Grey didn’t give you the chance. “I promise, I had a good reason for what I tried to do. If you give me some time, I’ll explain, but that’ll never happen if you run away.”

Your apprehension remained, but with a quick glance between your wrist, his face, and the nearest exit, you nodded. Grey wasn’t surprised, not this time.

That line never failed.

Months passed, along with the more… volatile stages of your friendship. With some time and a few mildly tampered-with confessions, Grey was stopping by your estate once a week, if not more often, and you were making excuses to spend time with him just as frequently. Your parents only encouraged this new union, seeing him as a potential suitor, one who’d pay a very heavy price for your hand. You, alternatively, tried to look past his fortune. To remember that this was the man who tried to kill your father, to look at him and see someone who’d end your life in the blink of an eye, but... it was hard to not enjoy his company.

Of course, Grey couldn’t have been more pleased. As long as you were paying attention to him, updating him about your life and giving him the opportunity to do the same, no one would have a chance to steal you away. You had to think about him, to mull over the letters you wrote, to consider him as something more than a threat that needed to be dealt with. But, that certainly didn’t mean he liked everything you told him.

You nearly squealed, clinging onto Grey’s arm like your life depended on it. In another context, he would’ve gladly supported this kind of behavior from you. Unfortunately, what you were actually talking about ruined the moment. “Isn’t he great, Charles? He’s just perfect! You’ve got to meet him, I’ll set something up-”

“He looks weak.” Grey cast a wary glance towards the picture in his hand. The man you were so infatuated with was plain, in all honesty. Not handsome, not impressive, barely above a servant. He wasn’t worth your time, much less the devotion you seem so determined to express. “Poor, too. You’d be better off with someone like me, darling.”

“You can’t just write someone off because of money,” You complained, trying to grab the photo away. He just held it out of your reach, smiling as you tried to climb over him to get it. His eyes never left the man’s face. He needed to memorize every detail, to know the man who tried to take you away from him.

“I mean, you can’t. I, however, am extremely wealthy, incredibly attractive, and unrealistically talented.” And madly in love with you, he added, mentally. You punched him in the arm playfully, watching him pout and sheepishly hand the small object over. The way you beamed at it sent chills down his spine, his grin faltering more than once. You were love-struck, by the wrong person. Luckily, you were too preoccupied to notice. “I think I’m going to propose. I want to marry him.”

Grey didn’t miss a beat. “You’re parents would never allow it.”

“They don’t have to know.” It was a defined change from the girl who was willing to kill someone if it meant keeping her father uninjured, Grey was almost taken back. Always full of surprised, you were. You sighed, taking on a new tone of urgency. “I’ll run away if I have to, I just want to be with him.” Your attention snapped back to Grey, the pleading look you gave him not exactly unwelcome. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

Silence hung over the two of you, never a good sign. “Well, I don’t know about that...” Slowly, he averted his eyes, gesturing in circles. “But, if you write down his full name and address, I might be inclined to use my aforementioned wealth and talent to deliver your message, while forgetting to mention it both your parents and my associate.”

“Oh my god, thank you!” You gasped, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Grey was tempted to return to gesture, but opted to just awkwardly pat your shoulder and play with your hair. Delicacy would be best, for now. “You’re so nice, and great, and...”

“Handsome? Your savior? The light of your life?”

“All that, too.”

When you were his, these gestures of affection didn’t have to be forced out of you. Once he got rid of that pest, you’d fall into his arms naturally. You would be out of excuses to run away, and with your new-found favor, you’d be more… open to the suggestion of something more serious. You would have to be.

Grey didn’t know what he would do if you still rejected him. Especially after he’d done so much for you.

“Remind me why we’re here, again?” Phipps trailed behind Grey, looking from the small, claustrophobic apartment to his counterpart. Grey rolled his eyes, trying the door. It wasn’t even locked. How had you ever fallen for someone so dimwitted? “We’re supposed to be in London by sunrise.”

“This’ll only take a minute. I just need to get rid of the trash that’s been bothering one of my favorite toys.” The words were hissed out, barely audible to the uncaring Phipps. Or, he thought so, at least. A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him from advancing into the dark house.

“And you’re sure this isn’t going too far?” The man questioned, his worry shining through the monotone drawl. Grey didn’t know whether he was asking out of genuine concern for a friend or the fear of dealing with his mess. But, Grey did know that an intervention wasn’t going to stop him. “A proper butler should never let his mind stray from his master’s commands.”

This man stole your attention, stole all those wonderful, mysterious reactions of yours. He seduced you away from the person who you’re meant to be with. Your rightful owner. And now, he was trying to trick you into running away from the life you were meant to have. It was disgusting, revolting, enraging. A downright crime, really. One worthy of a painful, drawn-out death sentence.

Grey shrugged off the other Charles, pushing the door open with his shoulder. “This is fine. If anything, I’m being lenient.”

For lack of a softer way to put it, you looked bad. There were bags under your eyes, your hair was unstyled and poorly tied back, and you couldn’t seem to stop from fidgeting. The last one Grey could write off as nerves. For all the times he’d shown up in your home without warning, this was the first time he’d called you to his. Since this was the place you’d spend the rest of your life, he wanted everything to be perfect the first time you saw it. But, that didn’t explain why you were so… discouraged. Even while standing by his side, idly walking through one of the nicer parts of his garden, you looked like you expected him to drop dead.

“He never met me,” You said, unprompted, as if you were reading his mind. You stopped for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. “At first, I thought he just decided he didn’t like me that much, or something got in the way and he couldn’t make it, but then I didn’t hear from him for a few weeks. I guess I got curious, but when I went to his apartment…” You froze, grabbing his arm as a source of comfort. “He was dead, Charles. Dead. The landlord had to break the news.”

It took more self-control than it should’ve to keep from laughing. Of course your lover was dead, what else had you expected? You’d asked a murderer to deliver a proposal, after all. But still, he had to be sympathetic. Slowly, he rubbed short circled into your back, letting you bury your face in his shirt. “Aw, don’t be so negative about it.” You tensed, forcing him to wrap an arm around your waist. A hand closed around your chin, forcing you to look at him. “This is for the best, isn’t it?”

You shake your head, your confusion evident. He missed that expression of yours, so bewildered. So helpless. “No… what did you do?”

“I made things right,” He laughed, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You pushed him away, trying to gain any distance you could. His fingers trailed from your chin to the side of your face, lingering for a moment before brutally rooting themselves in your hair. You flinched, returning the favor by digging your nails into his shoulders. “He was a distraction. You see that, right? He took you away from me, so I got rid of him. Eradicated, like the vermin he was. Isn’t that great? Now that there’s no one to waste your time, you can be with me.”

“And if I don’t want to be with you?” You growled, confusion becoming anger. Your heart was beating faster now, so quick he could feel it through your chest. Grey released you, letting you stumble back before he grabbed your wrist. “You’re crazy, absolutely insane, I can’t believe I ever had hope for you. I should’ve just killed you when I had the chance.”

“That hurts, (Y/n), really. But, my proposal still stands.” Again, he moved to kiss you, settling for your hand, smirking against your skin. He’d hoped for his to be a little more romantic, but this would have to do. He’d taste your lips soon enough. “I do want you to come along willingly, but if you’re going to insist on being difficult, then I’m not above doing the hard way.”

You narrow your eyes, finally pulling yourself away completely. You moved to leave, not caring enough to remember which way you’d come from. As long as it got you away from Grey, you’d take any path happily. “Thanks, but I’d rather die.”

Despite your determination, you barely got a few steps away. Grey's arm wrapped around your waist from behind, his saber coming out of its scabbard and pressing dangerously close to your neck. Still in denial, you tried to continue your resistance, only for the blade to cut into your skin. A warm, thin trail of blood fell onto your chest, and you finally realized just how screwed you were.

“You wouldn’t.” Your hand settled just above his wrist, not pushing him away or urging him to move forward. Maybe you wanted to get some emotional response out of him, or know if he moved. Either way, Grey just rested his chin on your shoulder, humming contently. “I thought you said you loved me.”

“I do,” He paused, pressing his lips against your shoulder. He’d dreamed about being in this position for so long, pressed against you without interference or distraction. “Believe me, I do. You’ve had my attention from the minute I met you, and nothing makes me happier than the thought of having you with me for the rest of my life.” The sentiment was sweet, almost genuine. You could’ve believed it, if the flat of his sword hadn’t been pressed against the bottom of your jaw. Carefully, your chin was tilted towards him, forcing you to look at the white-haired man. “But, I’d rather take you by force than not have you. So, what’ll it be?”

Briefly, you considered goating him on. Dying might’ve been preferable, compared to a forced engagement to a mad-man. But, you knew that couldn’t be it. He wouldn’t just kill you, he’d kidnap you, or torture you, or worse. You tried to push the possibilities out of your mind, but they were suffocating, impossible to ignore. In the end, all you could bring yourself to do was nod. It was enough for Grey, though.

His mouth was on yours in an instant, the kiss chaste and quick, before he pulled away, chuckling. That didn’t stop him from pulling you closer, peppering your neck with small pecs and nips. The scene was exactly how he’d pictured it, down to the tears starting to run over your cheeks.

“We’re going to be so happy together, love.”

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wolfpawn · 5 years

Text

I Hate you, I Love You Chapter 5

Chapter Summary - Danielle helps Benedict with Christopher while the pair talk.Tom goes into his mothers and is brought to a realisation that the world is not, contrary to recent belief, all about him.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

I think it goes without saying that I am taking some serious artistic licence with Tom here. I would hope he is more copped on than this......actually, considering the last few months, I think it may be somewhat true, hopefully, he isn't so naive, he is, after all, a (then) 35-year-old man, but let's face it, this makes the story more dramatic.

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer

“How are you feeling?” Ben asked. He had met Danielle a few times through Tom and his family, she was incredibly normal, which was refreshing when you’re surrounded by actors and Hollywood. “I heard you yell at Tom about your night.”

“I just…Today is not the day for unimportant bull…” She caught herself before she swore. “Sorry.”

“I keep getting caught myself.” Ben dismissed changing the nappy. “Can I be so rude as to ask to heat some food for him too?”

“Sure, get him sorted and then we’ll organise that then.” She smiled. “It is nine in the morning, did you drive from London?”

“Someone, and I am not pointing fingers,” He pointed to his son. “Is getting up early, and Sophie is in Scotland, so I didn’t know what to do, I thought I would visit Tom, but well…”

“That blew up in your face.”

“That’s the polite way of putting it. This is so…not Tom.”

“Tell me about it, Diana is completely at a loss, so are Emma and Sarah, and for some reason, because he does not want to confront whatever or whoever is eating at him, I am Public Enemy Number One. Does he eat porridge?” She indicated to Christopher.

“Yes, but there’s no need to go to the trouble.”

“I usually have a bowl before I go to bed anyway,” she shrugged. “It’s only a little extra scoop; unless you want some yourself.”

“I am fine, thank you. Strong coffee is good. So you are…”

“I will be fine, I will go to bed for a while, then head to work early and get an assessment and an obligatory counselling session then be back to work.”

“That…Jesus, that’s rough.”

“You get used to it, in some ways, if that makes any bit of sense.”

“Do you not ever get nightmares?”

“Most weeks that something terrible happens, yeah.”

“Jesus.”

“I should have just gone to acting college.”

“Could you have afforded it?” There was a clear hint in Benedict’s voice that he was being sarcastic, clearly having heard everything Tom had said.

“Any other day, I’d have kneed him in the nuts for that, but today, I just can’t care, besides, it is clear, he is not the guy he was.” She sighed.

“Is that…?” Benedict pointed out the window.

“Mac, get down.” Elle didn’t even have to look, she knew it was the dog. “He’s the dog Tom found, yeah.”

“He looks good.”

“A bit scraggily, but yeah, he is doing well now.” She smiled.

“I am sorry.”

“What for?”

“Tom.”

“No one can apologise for him but himself. I only hope he sees sense, and when he does, that everyone is still here for him, because I think I am officially at the very precipice of telling him to go take a running jump off the nearest cliff.”

“No one would blame you. Thank you.” He took the fresh porridge and coffee from her and blew on it.

Half an hour, and a fed waddler later, Benedict thanked her, and left her home, tying Christopher into his car seat, before looking at Diana Hiddleston’s house and sighing.

“What was that ruckus outside Tom?” Diana asked, still in her nightgown.

“Benedict has gone into Danielle’s.” He stated angrily.

“I am not sure I follow.”

“He came here, supposedly to see me, but instead went into hers, and is in there now.”

“And why is that?” Diana looked at her son, she knew when he was at fault for something as a child, he would just give the start and end of a story, but nothing of what occurred in the intervening period.

“I was talking with Elle, and she went off on me, and he took her side.”

“Thomas,” Diana warned.

“I was tired and angry, and I may have said something, and she…”

“Gave you the truth?” Diana interjected. “You are my son Thomas, and I will always love you, but you need to get yourself in check, you are going to allow everything you worked for go down the toilet, and for what? When you were dating Susannah, you broke it off because you knew you would be too busy and did not want to drag her along, and now, you are going too far the other way, dropping it all for a woman, one who is not ready to settle down, and at twenty-six, that is fine, she is young, but you are putting it all on this one horse Thomas, and I am not sure the horse will even run the race.” Tom frowned. “Elle has a difficult job, and she wants her life outside it to be as smooth as possible, please do not make that any harder on her.”

Tom said no more, he knew once his mother found out the difficult night Danielle had, she would murder him for adding to her misery. “I need to get showered.” Diana nodded and went into the kitchen, turning on the radio.

“There was a road traffic accident in the early hours of this morning in Suffolk, a woman, and her two children were travelling back from a trip to Legoland when a truck driver fell asleep at the wheel, killing the occupiers of the car. The woman, named as thirty-four-year-old Carol Johnson originally from Brighton, residing in Suffolk, was recently widowed and had taken her children, eight year old Jeffery and five year old Jessica to the famous theme park following the death of her husband in a workplace accident in the North Sea on an oil rig earlier this summer, Jessica was said to be excited to start school next week, having bought her school supplies while in London with her mother. Police and paramedics at the scene said it was a devastating reminder of the dangers of driving while tired, and urge drivers to pull in and sleep if they feel themselves dozing off at the wheel.”

Tom sat on the steps of the stairs, listening to what Danielle had dealt with at work, feeling guilt riddle him once more. Diana came into the hallway, her face pale at what she had heard. “You don’t think…”

“She mentioned it, yes.”

“She was there?” Tom nodded. “And you were…”

“I didn’t know.”

“I think it best you leave her alone from now on Thomas,” Diana stated coldly.

Tom went upstairs without another word as Diana left the house to check on her neighbour.

For the rest of the time he was in Suffolk, Tom did as his mother suggested, and left Danielle alone. He was opening the window of the bathroom to leave out steam after a shower, and saw her in her back garden, a cup of coffee and a slice of apple crumble on the table, on a recliner garden chair, with Mac Tíre curled up on top of her. The dog, though small for a Sheppard, took up most of her torso, as she curled her arms around him, the dog clearly sensing her distress. He felt terrible for her, and was about to go apologise to her when his phone went off, looking at the screen, he noticed it was Taylor and clicked accept; since she was supposed to be in LA and that meant she was ringing him at five am there. “Hey.”

“I have the best night.” She half sang at him.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I sang with Nelly at Mike’s birthday.”

“What?”

“Mike Heis, the oil heir, I sang at his birthday, here in the Hamptons.” She repeated excitedly.

“The Hamptons, isn’t that on the East Coast?” Tom frowned.

“Eh, yeah, here in Long Island.”

“I thought you were in LA, that’s what you said yesterday?”

“OMG, I decided not to go, a party is so much more fun, especially for Mike, he is super rich and sweet, so I said, how could I say no, right? I mean he is practically squad approved awesome, by the way, I kissed him, so don’t be surprised to see a photo.”

“What?”

“Oh there’s nothing behind it, totally platonic, it’s on the cheek, so you’ll get over it.”

“That’s sort of, inappropriate, though, isn’t it? I mean if there are pictures.” Tom broached.

“It was a friendly one, and besides, I am not changing myself for anyone, and it keeps the cameras where they need to be. I’m tired, so I am going to bed, you’re here again tomorrow, right?”

“I need to go straight to Australia, there is one scene that went a bit awry, so I am to go there and then I am free for a week, yeah.”

“Tell them you are busy til Thursday.”

“That’s not how it goes with Marvel movies Taylor, they are in charge, not me.”

“I told my parents you are going to be here, so be here Tom.” She demanded petulantly.

“I cannot be there until I do the scene, they’ve paid the flights, I have to go.”

“Fine, but I am coming too.”

“Great.” His tone did not match the word.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Jetlag, and a small argument with my mum’s neighbour I have to sort.”

“That woman?”

“Danielle, yes.”

“She is such a bitch, Johnny, my bodyguard, told me she was trying to sneak into your mums when I was there with you, as though she owned the place, and had like a camera phone in her hand, you are better off away from her, I bet she has a hoard of things on you, waiting for the highest bidder, you should have a high fence and an NDA put on her ass. I mean, what is she paying for that house with?”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “I never asked.”

“Maybe you should, your family has money, and she is some nurse or something, and she can live next door to your mum, and only did so after you got famous.” Taylor planted a seed in his mind; he looked down, looking at the woman that had been close to his family for so long. “I mean, it’s so cliché, use the family to get to your celebrity crush.”

“Crush?”

“Yeah, she is totally in love with you, why do you think she is always running around to your mothers, dying to see you no doubt, I mean, I bet she accidentally walked in while you were there, pretending not to know you were home.” Tom thought of the first day, and her arriving home just after him from work. “I’m right, you know it. I am used to it all, I have been in this game long enough, she is practically a stalker.”

“Tom, are you there?” a voice called from outside the bathroom.

“I better go; mum is calling.”

“What time are you into JFK tomorrow?”

“Actually, it’s to Florida.”

“What, no that’s unacceptable, change it.”

“I am afraid not everyone has private jets, love.” Tom chuckled.

“You should, fine, I will send mine to get you.”

“The next flight is from there to Hawaii and then a connection to Brisbane.”

“God, that’s a joke.” She commented.

“Get some sleep love, I will see you soon.”

“You better.” She signed off, hanging up before he could say anymore.

“Tom?” He heard his mother call from outside his room in the hallway.

“Yeah,” Tom looked at the phone. “I’m here.”

“I am going to Emma’s for a few days with Danielle, what time is your flight?”

“What?” Tom demanded, opening the bathroom door.

“Emma’s, Elle and I are going there for a few days.” Diana jumped slightly when Tom opened the door.

“Why?”

“Because Elle took that crash badly, she is not sleeping at all, apparently those children, they are keeping her awake,” Diana stated sadly. “She’s been giving compassionate leave for a week, she needs a break.”

“So she is on the verge of a breakdown, that is what you are saying, that she is nuts.”

“Thomas!”

“What, that is what you are saying, is she even safe to be around?”

“How could you say such a thing, you heard the news report, and saw the photo’s in the paper, you can see her, trying to get into the car. How she hasn’t had one is a miracle. Don’t you dare speak badly of her for it.” Diana snapped.

“She is too close to the family, you need to step back from her. How do we even know her family are dead?”

“Thomas! What has gotten into you?”

“Taylor was saying…”

“I should have known.” Diana walked off. “That girl has cost you a lot of late Thomas, I have to wonder how much you will lose before you wisen up. She is off snuggling up to billionaires sons and kissing them all too closely and you are here losing everything for her.”

“She told me about that, it was platonic.” He called down the stairs.

“And yet when I met that Australian girl from The Night Manager, she said she tried to ring you about your Emmy, she was met with an automated answer, as has Elle, and I bet others too. You cannot be friends with women, but she can snuggle men, trust has to go both ways in a relationship Thomas.” She stated back to him, opening the front door. “Ready sweetheart.” He heard her call. “Tom’s car is in my way, put Mac in and we’ll take yours.”

#I Hate you I Love You #chapter 5 #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Wedded Bliss

TITLE: Wedded Bliss CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 35 AUTHOR: MaliceManaged ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Odin determined to find Loki a wife in a misguided, though somewhat well-intentioned attempt to ‘mellow him’. … RATING: T ________________________

“I can’t believe you threw me under the bus that way,” Loki groused as soon as he entered Edith’s chambers after spending the better part of two hours doing Frigga’s bidding to placate her.

Edith snorted, more at his use of Earth slang. “Hey, she’s your mother; you stood a better chance at surviving than I did, no matter how much she likes me.”

Loki glared at her and she grinned, earning a huff. “Just know that she expects you to spend most the day with her tomorrow, to prepare you for the feast; there are protocols that must be observed.”

“Ughhh, whyyy?” she whined childishly, dropping facedown onto her couch dramatically.

“You are consort to a prince; what did you expect?” he chuckled, moving to sit beside her and running his fingers through her hair, “In the tower it hardly mattered, but here… The life of nobility is largely protocols, I regret to inform you.”

“Well, that sucks,” came the muffled reply.

He laughed softly. “That it does.”

She turned around so she could look up at him. “Alright, lay it on me; what am I in for?”

“Not much, this time,” he replied, brushing his knuckles along her jawline, “You will enter the feast hall at my arm, sit beside me, try not to die of boredom while whatever invited nobles prattle on about unimportant matters,” that earned a giggle he grinned at, “We will be expected to dance. Thankfully, our relationship means I will not be expected to indulge the usual social climbers.”

“Oh, well, glad to be of service,” Edith joked, earning a laugh.

“It is very much appreciated.” He sat back and thought for a moment. “We will be expected to mingle a bit, particularly with any visiting dignitaries. Mother will give you the specifics; I have no idea who is coming.”

She hummed. “That at least I know the basics of. Socialising with Important People was very much a part of my upbringing.”

“Of course; I forget.”

“Hey, just because I’m not a snob, doesn’t mean I’m a peasant,” she teased with a playful poke to his ribs, earning an bemused look. “As soon as I know the guest list and any particulars to avoid or encourage, I’ll be fine.” She sat up and moved in close to him, practically climbing onto his lap. “Now, why don’t I make it up to you for sacrificing you to Frigga?”

****

Frigga was immensely pleased at how relatively little preparation Edith needed to be amongst the nobility of Asgard for a celebration; as she had told Loki, all she really needed where names to remember and any necessary warnings attached to them. The real work came in teaching her the relevant dances; by virtue of Natasha’s training and her childhood, the needed ease of movement and grace was there, but she didn’t know the steps.

“How’d they rope you into this?” Edith asked as she stepped up to Thor and took his offered hand.

“Actually, I volunteered.” That got him a raised eyebrow. “If I am here, I cannot be greeting the arriving foreign guests,” he confided with a wink, making her laugh.

By the time the instructor was satisfied, Edith was quite sure she could perform the dances in her sleep, which she supposed was not a bad thing, and she found herself swept up into a flurry of activity the second she set foot in her chambers as a gaggle of maids set to work getting her bathed, dressed and primped. She had to admit, she looked good in the elegant deep blue dress with gold accents Frigga had sent, her hair pinned up in braids with light blue flower ornaments worked throughout. She did her own makeup, which the maids reluctantly allowed, though they did admit her choice of smoky black eyeshadow and midnight blue lipstick was a good one.

Even more satisfying was Loki’s reaction when he came to collect her and one of the maids let him into the room; he stopped short when he saw her and all but gaped at her before he managed to collect himself, earning a slightly bashful grin.

“My Lady; you look radiant,” he said as he walked up to her, taking her hand and bowing to kiss it.

“Why, thank you,” Edith replied with a fluid curtsey, eyeing his formal armour appreciatively, “You look very handsome, yourself.”

He flicked his hand and a small wooden box materialised onto his palm. “I have a gift for you.”

“I think you’ve got that backwards, I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to give you a gift,” she giggled as he opened the box, revealing a pair of elaborate drop earrings of gold set with amber beads that perfectly matched her eyes, causing her – and a few of the maids – to gasp.

“Believe me, that reaction alone is its own gift,” he countered, to which she stuck out her tongue at him, making him chuckle as he held the box to her.

Edith smiled as she took the earrings out and put them on, stepping back so he could fully look at her. “Well?”

“Perfect.” He held out his arm and brought out his most charming smile, “If you would do me the honour of allowing me to be your escort for the evening, My Lady.”

“It would be my outmost pleasure, Your Highness,” she replied as she placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, well aware most of the maids were practically swooning at that point.

****

Edith had to hand it to Frigga; she even made smug look elegant. One would have to really look to see how much the queen was relishing how begrudgingly impressed certain courtiers were at Edith’s poise and social grace, having expected her to stumble her way through her interactions with the room, used as they were to her usual demeanour with the warriors.

“I must admit a certain amount of scepticism that a midgardian could be an adequate pairing for royalty, but she seems to have adapted,” one of the council members commented to Loki as Edith passed their frame of vision as she danced with an ambassador from Alfheim, “The Allmother certainly taught her well.”

“Mother had very little to do with that, in fact,” Loki corrected, irked at the implication that Edith needed to be trained like a dog, “Her manner is her own.”

The man cast a look of poorly concealed doubt Edith’s way but said nothing aloud; it would be a good hour later as he was chatting up a few ladies when the buckle that held his pants closed ‘mysteriously’ broke, leaving him terribly embarrassed as everyone around him laughed. Odin raised an eyebrow at Loki as they watched it go down, receiving a wholly too innocent look that made him huff amusedly, wondering what it was the man had done to earn such but guessing it likely had to do with Edith.

When the feast wound to a close, Loki escorted Edith back to her chambers as was their norm, though before he could leave for his own chambers she grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him inside, earning a bemused look.

“Hang on; I haven’t given you your present yet!” she explained excitedly.

“Alright then,” he laughed, letting her lead him to the couch and sit him down, removing his helmet and setting it down on the floor by his feet as she walked away.

She went over to her bag which she’d left on her bed that evening and rummaged in it until she found the box she was looking for then going back to him and sitting down, holding the box out to him. “I was thinking about something you told me a while ago, after the invasion, and well, it gave me an idea.”

“Should I be concerned?” he joked as he took the box, earning a light shove he laughed at. He opened the box to find a gold pendant suspended on a black cord; the pendant had a red bird with a long trailing tail set with tiny red, orange and yellow stones, resulting it to look like fire when the light hit it. He picked it up to examine it closer then looked back at Edith, who was biting her bottom lip. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a Firebird, from Slavic folklore. Nat told me a story once and it kinda stuck with me, hence my codename,” she explained. She looked down nervously, hand coming up to her chest to toy with his pendant. “You said this was a gift, and I know it means a lot to you; it’s your symbol and all. I can’t really give it back, but I figured I could give you something that’s kinda my symbol, and, well…” she trailed off uncertainly, not quite so sure about the whole thing anymore.

Loki looked back at the pendant, trying to find his words, so touched at the gesture was he. Finally he simply settled for turning Edith’s face up and claiming her lips in a kiss that took her breath away with its passion. “I love you,” he breathed when they finally parted.

“Oh, thank god!” Edith blurted, earning a laugh, causing her hide her face in his neck embarrassed and mumble, “I love you.”

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #wedded bliss #chapter 35 #MaliceManaged

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goldngguk · 5 years

Text

red // 05

part one of trilogy series

warnings // fluffy cuteness, jealous kookie

word count // 2.3k

trilogy masterlist

Don't do it. It won't end well, you know that. You can't let this happen. But then again, maybe there's no point in trying. Maybe this is all inevitable. Maybe you don't have a choice. Do we ever?

She was startled awake to the sound of loud vibrations against her bedside table. The wood trembled from the sensations of her phone as it received a new message. She groaned, rolling over and stretching for the device.

She laid her head against her pillow trying to recall what her dream had been about. It didn't really even feel like a dream. It was more like the voice in her head speaking to her through the darkness. But what was it talking about? Too exhausted to think or get up, she set her phone down only to watch it vibrate again when a new message popped up.

《???:》 Y/n?

She blinked at the unknown number for a few seconds before remembering who it was. She had given him her number at the café the day before during their conversation. She immediately added the number to a new contact.

Jungkook sat on a couch in his dorm room pleading with himself not to sound so cringeworthy. Forcing a conversation with her was something he did not want to do, especially if it was about something as unimportant as her obviously messed up sleep schedule.

He chuckled at the message causing Yoongi to look up from the burrito of blankets he had wrapped himself with. "What's so funny?"

Jungkook glanced up at his older roommate before shaking his head. "It's nothing, hyung. Go back to your nap."

"It's okay. I should be getting up now anyway. They'll call us down soon." Yoongi rolled out of bed and Jungkook's eyes went back to his phone.

After showering and finishing her hair and makeup, Y/n headed for the filming room.

"Hey, Y/n!"

Jimin jogged up beside her. "How are you today?"

"I'm good, thanks. I'm ready to get to work."

Jimin giggled. "Me too. I don't like to sit for too long." Y/n smiled and the two walked together to meet the group.

"Oh, look who's late," Jungkook said when Jimin entered the room.

"I am not late!"

"Everyone else is already here though," he smirked. Hobi laughed and punched him in the arm.

"You haven't even started yet! Besides, Y/n came with me!"

Jungkook's eyes flickered towards hers as she followed Jimin into the room. He felt his stomach drop. Why is she with him? Were they together? What were they doing? He watched the questions consume his mind. I don't like it.

Y/n took a seat next to him, immediately making his negative thoughts disappear. "Hi," she smiled.

"Hello." He tried to choke back the next sentence, but it seemed he couldn't help himself; it just slipped out. "You look pretty."

"Oh, thanks," she replied before turning her attention towards the staff who would be directing the episode.

Jungkook nodded and looked down to play with his thumbs. I can't believe I just said that. It seemed like all of his confidence from the night before flew right out the window when he saw her come in with Jimin. Of course, he wouldn't be a problem for Jungkook; the golden maknae who could do anything. At least he hoped not. He really hoped not.

The staff finished putting the set together and began to record. The first episode of the second season (ep. 21) of Run would be a relaxed episode, saving the more intense games and plots for later. Today would be a board game competition. “You will split up into two teams of six and play two out of three games. The third game will be all vs. all. If the winner of the third game is from the losing team of the first two games, the team can avoid the punishment picked by the staff.” The members nodded and began to decide their teams. The first group included Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung, Hayden, Hobi, and Maya. The opposing team was made up of Jin, Mason, Namjoon, Y/n, Jungkook, and Cyrus. “Now that the teams are made, we will discuss the first game. It's water beads. There is a piece of filter paper placed on a hollow stand. Each of you will drop a bead or a drop of water onto the paper. The person to make the beads break and fall through the paper is the loser.”

Each team took turns adding beads until the overconfident Kim Seokjin decided to push his luck and dump a straw full of water onto the paper. Needless to say, the paper broke and Jin's team lost the first game. “Well that didn't go as planned,” he shook his head as Jungkook slapped his shoulder.

The second game was a test for the BTS members to see how many English words they could memorize on a card in ten seconds without the help of Culture. Jin recited five of his six words, while Namjoon got all of his. “Dog, dinosaur, duck, jello, jam, jerk, cracker, crocodile…”

Jimin snickered before attempting to mock him. “Crocodoll,” he said with a roll of his tongue. Hobi joined his fun, giggling, “Crocodiiiile.”

Jungkook went last. He looked up in thought before remembering his words. “Stream, strong, streamer, rabbit, ring, rocket. Was that it? I think that's all I have.” Everyone praised him for his memory and dialect.

“That was really good, Jungkook!” Y/n said, patting him on the back. His cheeks turned rosey and he smiled back at her. After watching the other team crash and burn, it was decided that Jungkook's team was the winner of the second game.

The third game which would be played individually was Uno. Within a few times around the circle, Y/n was the first to go out. She jumped from her spot and took a seat on the couch behind them. Taehyung seemed to not fully understand the concept of the game. “Tae,” Joon said, slapping him on the knee. “You didn't say uno. You have to draw four cards.” This went on for a while until the members made a game out of it.

“Okay guys, he gets it. You have to let him say it when he lays his card down.” Without even realizing how it happened, Taehyung went out and got second place. Hobi was right behind him.

After a few more rounds, Y/n laid her hand on Jungkook's shoulder and discreetly held up a 1 until he realized. “UNO!” He gasped. “Uno, uno, uno, uno!” He flung his final card across the room causing everyone to bust out in a fit of laughter. Only a minute later did he play the card and get fourth place.

“You would have lost if I hadn't told you,” she giggled as Jungkook held up his hand for a high five.

“They didn't even notice!” They both laughed as they watched the game continue until it was just Jimin and Yoongi left. In order to save time, the boys decided they would draw cards. Whoever held the highest card would be the last winner. Jimin drew a green eight while Yoongi played a red reverse.

“What is that worth? Did we even establish this card?”

Jimin waved his hand at him. “It's okay, hyung. I'll allow it. You can redraw.”

“Awww,” Y/n cooed. “Jimin, that's so sweet.”

Jungkook's gaze shot between Jimin and Y/n. Sweet? What is that supposed to mean? Does she like him? He could feel his face heat up for the hundredth time that week and his fists clenched into balls-- not that Jimin was any threat to him. He couldn't possibly be.

Yoongi drew a draw 4 card, making Jimin the loser despite his good sportsmanship. “That's okay, Chim. You're still the best sport here.” At this point, Jungkook's blood was boiling. Jimin was stealing all of her attention. He needed to do something, anything that would bring her back to him. He noticed the way she leaned on the couch, exposing her hand on the cushion next to him. He slowly crept his hand closer until his fingers feathered over hers. She immediately looked up at him, but she didn't withdraw due to the considerable amount of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. What is he doing?

He mentally celebrated his success before pulling his hand away. Jimin who?

The twelvesome wrapped the shoot and the staff declared dinner would be ready soon. The punishment for Jimin's team was to clean up afterward.

“Hey, Y/n. C'mere for a sec.”

Hayden and Maya were still standing in the middle of the room. She turned in her heels dramatically and made her way to them.

“Yeah?”

“So, Maya's been filling me in on a few things-”

“Oh good god, Maya what did you tell him?” She asked her sternly.

“Just what he needs to know. I'll be going now.” She winked at Y/n and left the room with a swing in her step.

“I swear that girl gets on my nerves sometimes.”

“Don't change the subject. As your very best friend, I demand to know what's going on between you and Jungkook.”

“Hayden, nothing is going on between us! We literally met three days ago, and you know Maya! She's always trying to hook me up with random people. This is no different.”

Hayden nodded his head, staring at her suspiciously. “So you would tell me if something was going on?”

“Of course! What about me do you not know?”

“Okay, Y/n. I believe you. I just think Jungkook might have an eye for you.”

“Good grief.”

“That's all I'm saying. He's showing signs and I think we've all noticed.”

“Kay Sherlock, I'll be sure to keep you posted. Can we go eat now? I'm starving.”

“Yeah yeah, let's eat. But seriously-”

“Hayden!”

After an uneventful dinner, everyone turned in for the night. When arriving at their dorm, Y/n shoved Maya inside and kicked the door shut behind her. “Why would you talk to Hayden? We talked about this. It's nothing and I don't understand why you keep insisting that it is.”

“I'm sorry, Y/nickname. I didn't think you'd be that pressed about it.” Y/n followed her into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“I'm not pressed, Maya. I'm tired. You always do this. Every time I interact with a male that isn't in our band, you blow it out of proportion. I don't want a boyfriend. If I did, I would have one. But I don't. I thought that after everything I went through with Luke that you would understand that.”

“I know. You're right. I just get so excited when you loosen up. You work so hard all the time and I care about your feelings. I want you to be happy.” Exiting the bathroom, the two sat on their mattresses to face each other. Maya looked into Y/n's eyes, reading her like an open book. “I know you're lonely,” she spoke softly.

“I'm not lonely, My. I have the greatest friends in the world to share my life with. And I know you care.”

“That's not what I meant,” she said tilting her head endearingly.

“I know what you meant. But I don't have time for that kind of thing. In our career, you have to decide what you want; love or success. You can't have both. Between the touring, the practice and recording, red carpets and events, press following around every corner; it can be too much for some people to understand.”

“I think there's someone who understands that perfectly.”

“Which only means double the time apart.”

“So celebrities and normal people alike are both no-nos.”

“Now you're getting it.”

“Okay! Okay, I'll leave you alone. Just- at least think about it. I really think having a little fun could be good for you right now.”

“If it will make you feel better, then fine. I will. Now go to sleep.” The girls each climbed into their beds-Maya almost immediately drifting off. Before Y/n could shut her eyes, she heard her phone vibrating.

a.n. // DO NOT PAY ATTENTION TO THE TIMES IN THE TEXTS. THEY ARE NOT CORRESPONDENT TO THE STORY. Oooh, who's Luke? And what does he have to do with you?

taglist // @darkdragonskies @kalisica

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dancingwithdylan21 · 6 years

Text

No Longer You

Summary: Now a shell of her former self, the reader runs into an old flame.

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Word Count: 1,781

Warning: implying an abusive relationship

Green cancels out red.

Yellow cancels out purple and brown…no purple and blue.

And lavender cancels out…yellow?

Jesus Christ. This shouldn’t be that difficult, hiding the evidence of your home life is now a normal occurrence. The three concussions you’ve acquired over the years must be catching up to you.

You’re squinting harshly at the Revlon concealers on the top shelf before you at the supermarket. Trying and failing to remember which ones work the best, basically whatever hides the fucking truth.

Your exhausted brain is practically mush at this point in time, you used to know this shit. You used to know a lot of shit. You used to be a strong, independent take no bullshit kind of a woman that took care of herself. But things clearly change. People fucking change.

You’re feeling a bit woozy at the moment, either from the lack of food or from the lack of focus, you’re not sure which. Moving backwards you try to control your balance, causing you to stumble into an older woman passing by.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” You spin around to apologize, immediately regretting the fast movement.

“You ok, honey?” The woman asks eyeing you too closely for your liking.

The automatic judgement is something you’ve become accustomed to over the years. You’re convinced it chips off a piece of your pathetic heart each time.

“I’m fine. Thanks.” You barely mumble turning away from her in the makeup aisle. You can still feel unwelcomed eyes on you, aggravated you silently command yourself to just breathe.

“Y/N?”

You freeze from the sound of your name although you’re more concerned with the deep voice saying it. It can’t be him…can it? For the love of all things holy, please let it not be him.

“Y/N?” Stiles slightly hesitates, awkwardly staring as if you’ll run away any second.

You turn around painfully slow, stalling what’s about to take place. Your eyes lock, immediately waking something in you that you’ve been suppressing for years. Hope.

“Stiles.” You let out a heavy sigh as your chest tightens, you struggle wanting the pressure to dissipate as quickly as it came. Your body’s way of warning you, an asthma attack is on the horizon.

Out of habit, your eyes dart around the aisle, clearly paranoid about your surroundings. You quickly scan the area, assessing what you can. Where you are, who’s around, what’s being said and who’s listening.

“Wow. It’s been awhile.” He half heartedly chuckles, trying to keep his shocked reaction at bay. If it wasn’t for your sweet voice catching his attention, Stiles would have kept strolling right by you. Completely and totally oblivious that the love of his life is near.

“Yeah…six years.” You offer him your best fake smile, praying that time has ruined Stiles’ memory of you.

He doesn’t react, at least not in a negative way. Did he become an amazing actor? Or did he forget the look of your real smile? Either way, it makes you both relieved and disappointed. Stop it, Y/N. The last thing you want or need is to trap Stiles fucking Stilinski into this shitshow you call a life.

“What are you doing here? Last I heard you moved to...I think New York...for an architect job?” Ugh. You can barely remember shit anymore. It doesn’t help that you moved a few towns over, cutting off all ties with everyone that you cared about.

Stiles’ stomach drops, his mouth turns dry and he’s debating if he should tell you the truth. Worried what your reaction will be, he nervously decides against it. At least for now. You’ll find out soon enough what he’s been doing with his life. He silently makes that promise to you.

“Yeah. Scott and Alison still live close by with their daughter Kelly. She just turned two years old and they’re having a big party for her. So I’m just visiting everyone.”

“Huh. I bet they make great parents.” You mutter glaring down at your gorgeous, princess cut diamond ring that’s fucking mocking you. It’s become the only bright, attractive thing left in your god damn world.

“Yup they do.” Stiles nods following your gaze down to the giant rock on your bony finger.

“You’ve obviously settled down yourself. Any rugrats?”

“Nah…no kids. Its not something I want.” You shrug nonchalantly, eyes fixating on anything but your ex boyfriend.

“Really? You always wanted kids. Or at least one.” Stiles frowns eyeing you suspiciously. Shit.

“You couldn’t wait to have a little boy so you could dress him up in baseball caps and skull t-shirts.” Stiles snickers at the memory, your face would light up when you used to talk about it.

“Things change.” You add softly, realizing he will never know the actual truth.

Stiles barely nods in response, the restraint it’s taking to keep his mouth shut is nearly killing him. He doesn’t know specifics but he knows for sure that something isn’t fucking right.

Stiles has missed you terribly since the breakup, the amount of regret he deals with on a daily basis is sometimes overwhelming. It doesn’t matter how much whiskey he knocks back or how many girls he takes to bed, you’re always hiding in the corner of his mind.

And now here you are in the flesh, standing before him and you’re not her. It’s a total mindfuck, to be honest Stiles misses you even more now. Or at least the version of you that was his. The current version of you is breaking his fucking heart.

Glancing at your cuticles, he sees how marked and cut up they are from where you’ve repeatedly torn off the skin. You always pick at them when you’re anxious or upset. It’s an automatic tell of yours.

Your nails - usually perfectly trimmed and painted, are now ragged and thin. The texture of your hair looks dry and fried, the color and cut something you’d never choose six years ago.

Your wardrobe, once playful and always stylish is now drabby and depressing. You wouldn’t be caught dead in the oversized clothing you’re wearing right now. Even with the baggy clothes, Stiles can see how thin and fragile you’ve become. Which confuses him slightly based on the shopping cart in front of you.

It’s filled to the brim, the amount of junk food alone would make anyone gain weight. Weirdly enough, he doesn’t see one thing of yours that’s a favorite. Being a creature of habit, he would’ve bet money you still liked the same guilty pleasures.

You strangely keep favoring your right leg. It wouldn’t be obvious to many people but Stiles knows you’re usually full of energy, moving around even when standing still. So the fact that you’re not annoyingly restless is a huge red flag.

One of many at this point.

You know Stiles is dissecting your appearance in his mind right now but you refuse to acknowledge it. This surprise encounter is hard enough, seeing the best part of your past standing in front of you is torture.

Thinking back you realize the breakup was a stupid solution, the fights you two had seem so lame and unimportant now but you were young. Young and stupid. Still being with Stiles was the greatest time of your inevitably short life.

It’s not like you haven’t tried to create distance between you and your personal hell. There were other factors in play that wouldn’t let it happen. Your husband being a police officer has stalled every getaway plan you’ve tried.

You left in the middle of the night once, an APB was sent out so fast you barely made it two towns over. And reporting to the police was a joke, your husband made up mental problems for your “erratic behavior”. They knew the truth but it didn’t change a fucking thing.

Growing up in a family of cops, you know how they take care of their own. How easily they sweep shit under the rug if needed, unfortunately you were one of those things swept away. So he’s still “serving and protecting” the city while you suffer in silence.

“Are you…are you okay, Y/N?” Stiles asks concern overtaking his handsome features.

“Of course.”

“You don’t seem ok to me. You don’t even seem like the same girl.” He adds hesitantly.

“You’ve always been one for the dramatics, Stiles. I’m doing great.”

“You’re lying.” Stiles quietly growls, trying to control his anger.

“You haven’t seen me in a long time, Stilinski. Maybe you just don’t know me as well as you used to.” You glare now getting angry yourself.

“Right. You’re right.” Stiles snaps aggravated. “I don’t know you anymore. I don’t know your life or your husband. Or the reason why you no longer want children. Shit changes I guess, huh?”

“Exactly.”

“Well I’ve had fun strolling down memory lane but I have to go. Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

“You too, Stiles.” You respond softly, doing everything in your power not to break down.

“I hope you find the happiness you’ve been pretending to have, Y/N.” Stiles adds bitterly, barely making eye contact as he leaves you behind.

The pure sadness in your eyes hits Stiles hard as he stalks away from you. He hates causing you any kind of pain but unfortunately it’s necessary for his plan to work. It’s blatantly obvious your home life is keeping you prisoner and there’s no way in hell that’s going to continue.

Stiles chose to hold back an important piece of information during your awkward conversation. He’s been working for the FBI for years now, using the architect job as a cover. Stiles always refrained from looking you up in the FBI database. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been tempted, he could just never bring himself to do it.

It’s not like he expected to find anything negative - just the opposite. He assumed you were married with kids by now and living a full happy life. The kind you’ve always wanted and deserved. The kind he always thought he could never give you. Stiles is now kicking himself for being so fucking selfish. Maybe he could have saved you sooner if he put his god damn feelings aside.

The choice to keep you in the dark wasn’t an easy one but it’s for the best. You’re barely holding it together as it is, he doesn’t need any outside factors affecting his plan. He can’t risk your demeanor changing and it tipping off your douchebag husband.

Stiles has never been more determined in his entire life than he is right now. He’s going to save you, love you and do whatever it takes to see your beautiful, genuine smile again.

Masterlist

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maergo · 5 years

Note

FUCK YOU I TAKE IT BACK DO ALL 100

001. When is their birthday?Dec 9th002. Do they do anything to celebrate their birthday?No, he doesn’t celebrate it003. Does your character like coffee better, or tea?Coffee004. Do they prefer being alone or with others?He likes to be surrounded by up to a few people every now and then but also needs his alone time005. Are they in good health?Physically yes, mentally not so much

006. What sense do they most rely on?All? 007. Is your character an optimist or a pessimist?Both008. What is their favorite fairy tale?He doesn’t have one009. Do they believe in happy endings?Sometimes he does, it really depends on what it’s about010. Do they believe in love at first sight?No011. How would your character court the person of their dreams?He has no person of his dreams012. What makes your character embarrassed?Compliments, he doesn’t know how to react to them and then he gets embarrassed013. Have they ever been bullied or teased?He has been for a very short period of time014. Detail one secret shame your character feels.uhhhhhhhhhh i can’t come up with anything now015. Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue?His tongue, he’s not a fist fighter016. What is their choice of weapon?probably hair because he doesn’t know how to use any kind of weapon017. When does your character think that violence is justified or deserved?When it is to protect themselves or someone else018. Your character wakes up to find that war has been declared. What do they do?Probably wait and see how it’s gonna turn out019. If they could have a superpower, what would they choose?I think he’d pick invisibility020. What are their hobbies?Photography, music, cooking021. How do they display affection?With close friends he’ll just constantly call them things like bitch and what not. With relationships it really depends on his mood, one day he’ll be super clingy and the other he’s just more vocally affectionate022. What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen?Flowers023. What do they consider beautiful in others physically?An overall healthy look024. What do they consider ugly in others physically?Ugly is a big word but he just tends to not want to look at those that do not take any care of their physical appearance025. What do they consider beautiful in others personality-wise?Confidence026. What do they consider ugly in others personality-wise?Full on rudeness, like 24/7027. What is their idea of perfect happiness?Being content with what one has in their life. 028. What makes them laugh out loud?People who accidentally hurt themselves (falling down etc)029. What sort of sense of humor does your character have?He has a dark sense of humor030. Do they believe in the afterlife?He does031. Are they superstitious about anything?Not really032. Does your character believe in ghosts?No033. Do they keep their promises?He tries to034. What’s their view of lying?He believes lying is okay as long as it’s not harmful to anyone035. What is the most important rule your character lives by?None036. How honorable is your character?uhhhhhhhhh idk037. If your character saw someone drop a large sum of money and knew that they could probably take it without anyone noticing, what would they do?Pick it up, go to that person and tell them that they dropped the money038. What bad habits do they have?Hairpulling in stressful situations, nail biting, overthinking039. What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?Emotionally scar them040. What is their obsession?Writing, going for walks, he’s also lowkey obsessed with singing and staying in bed for too long041. Are they comfortable with technology?He hardly knows how to use all the new equipment but is okay with older stuff042. What is their greatest achievement?Getting cats043. What will they stand up for?His friends/ family044. What disgusts them?pussy045. Does your character have any chronic medical conditions?He thinks he does but doesn’t want to see a doctor for it046. How do they handle getting sick?He just keeps on doing what he usually does because he hates not getting things done047. What was the last medical problem your character had?/048. Do they have any allergies?He’s allergic to roses049. How does your character feel about growing old?It terrifies him and also causes panic attacks050. How does your character feel about their own mortality?lowkey don’t feel like googling that last word051. If they knew they would die tomorrow, what would they do today?Make sure his pets will get a good place to stay at and then live his last day like any other.052. What is your character’s worst flaw?I’d say it’s his insecurities053. What is your character’s greatest strength?He doesn’t easily give up054. Does your character want power or authority of any kind?Not at all055. Is your character an introvert or an extrovert?He’s kinda both but leans more towards introvert056. Has your character ever struck someone in anger?No057. Has your character ever killed anyone?No058. What is your character’s idea of a perfect day?One on which he doesn’t stress too much 059. List several phrases your character is fond of uttering. Where did they pick them up?ugh i so do not wanna do this lmao060. What is your character’s attitude toward education and learning?He loves learning and he loved school. If his passion wasn’t writing he would’ve considered to either follow more types of educations or he’d study to become a teacher himself061. Does your character prefer adventure or safety and security?Safety and security most of the time, but an adventure every now and then is appreciated too062. What sort of legacy does your character wish to leave behind?None063. How well does your character handle difficult people?Depends on how difficult they are and in what way064. In what ways does your character annoy others?Just by being himself lmao065. Is your character better at leading or following? Which do they prefer?He good at both and prefers to lead066. Does your character prefer city life or being out in nature?The city life, if he doesn’t hear traffic constantly he gets too deep into his own thoughts067. Does your character believe in fate or destiny?Not really068. How strong is your character’s sense of responsibility? What kinds of things trigger it?He’s responsible when the situation calls for it069. What about your character is heroic?Nothing lmao070. What about your character is cowardly?He’s too afraid to face certain emotions071. How kind is your character?Generally very kind unless someone really gets on his nerves072. In a Dungeons & Dragons game, which class would your character be? (wizard, fighter, bard, priest, ranger, etc.)i don’t even know that game073. In a novel, what plot role would your character fill? (hero, anti-hero, sidekick, villain, etc.)Probably a sidekick074. What is your character’s favorite game?He doesn’t really play games-- at least I assume it’s about videogames?075. Is your character ticklish?A little076. How do they express anger?He bottles it up until it gets too much and then he just takes it out on himself077. How often do they cry? Over what?He cries a lot, mostly when he’s too stressed and can’t deal with his feelings anymore078. How emotionally stable is your character?He’s not very stable079. How easy is it for them to read the emotions of others?He can kind of sense it when someone lies about how they’re doing080. How easy is it for others to read your character’s emotions?Very easy, it’s very clear when he’s not in a good mood081. Is your character religious?No082. What are your character’s sleeping preferences?When he’s alone he likes to sleep on his stomach, when with someone he wants to sleep against or even half on top of them083. What is the first thing they say and/or do when they wake up?Usually it’s something like ‘good morning babies’ because he wakes up to a whole lot of cats waiting for him to give them food084. Describe your character in one word.Odd085. Describe your character in three words.Messy, dramatic, soft086. How would your character describe themself in one word?Unworthy087. How would your character describe themself in three words?Useless, unimportant, weird088. Is your character quiet or loud?Both089. How vocally expressive is your character?He can be very expressive or not at all090. How bodily expressive is your character?Not very expressive091. What type of music does your character like?Anything, he can go from ballads to metal in two seconds092. What emotion does your character evoke in others?Probably annoyance093. What is your character’s goal in life?To become content with what he has094. Name three things most would not expect your character to be able to know.oh idk tbh095. Name three things most would not expect your character to be able to do.Do backflips, sing hella high, uhhhh---096. How do they move and carry themselves? What energy do they project?When for work he gives off a very excited and confident type of energy, when alone or with friends it’s generally the opposite097. How well do they adapt to change?Not well at all098. Does your character like animals?He l o v e s animals a lot099. Do they talk to inanimate objects?He curses at his phone sometimes but that’s it 100. Does your character dream? If so, what do they dream about? Usually he has nightmares but mostly doesn’t actually remember them

#axheronash #「 chmnh ; about 」

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floralseokjin · 6 years

Text

;dimple (m)

pairing—kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings—smut, comedy, slight angst/drama, romance, slow burn, roommates/friends words— 14,725

summary— What’s the rule again? How many dates does it take for you have sex with a guy? Three? Five? Ten?! What if all this waiting and you can’t remember how to do it? It’s been so long since the last time you swear you’ve forgotten! You’re desperate, and that’s how you end up asking your roommate for help. Only trouble is, you get much more than you bargained for…

“Seokjin” you call sweetly, making sure to drag out the last syllable as you bat your eyelashes in his direction, the most endearing smile you can muster stretched across your face.

“What do you want?” He chides, quite rudely at that, lifting his head up from his 3DS.

All your hard work for nothing, he sees right through you, and you scowl, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t even know where this is going, or why you’re asking him, but you figured some advice of the male kind might help your little problem.

“I need your advice.” You decide honesty is the best policy, no beating around the bush, because well, you really need an answer.

“My advice?” He repeats dubiously, face puzzled. You nod frantically, feeling a little nervous. He juts his chin out, “well, shoot.”

You stall, unable to think how to phrase such a question. You’d thought about googling it, but that just seemed too lame, asking a real-life person seemed the better option, but Jin’s skeptical look wasn’t helping your already shot confidence right now… You force your mouth open, tone sounding almost robotic, and definitely stunted.

“How many dates does it take to sleep with a guy?”

Whatever he was imagining you to ask, it wasn’t this, and he squints, shrugging after a moment to casually reply, “I don’t think there’s a set rule.”

And with that he’s back to his game and your left bobbing your mouth like a goldfish. That was it?! He’s just going to give that lame answer and leave you none the wiser. You’ve been betrayed, and as if he senses your annoyance, he looks up again, sighing loudly. “Fine. How many dates have been on?”

You swallow, bracing yourself. “Five,” you squeak.

“FIVE?!” He practically bellows, the word ricocheting off the four walls of your living room, his game well and truly forgotten about as he disregards it on his lap, the tune of Animal Crossing playing to itself. “And you still haven’t had sex?!”

“You just said there’s no set rule,” you argue, feeling oddly attacked.

“Three! The rule is three!” he insists dramatically. “You’re nearly over that by half. When’s your next date?!”

He’s confusing you, his answers conflicting one another and you blink slowly, it taking you a while to come to. “Tomorrow night.”

“Are you sure he likes you?”

“Seokjin!” You berate, mortified he would ask you such a thing—what about your feelings?!

Although, it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t plagued your mind too. It had take you three dates to actually kiss, and it wasn’t like you were desperate to take it further, you just guessed if Namjoon kept asking to see you again, then he must like you, right? So why hadn’t it gone any further than a kiss outside your door? He hadn’t even gone for a subtle boob squeeze yet… It was beginning to make you nervous. This was the first guy you’d been interested in since your ex and all the delaying and all the worry was making you anxious.

“I’m just saying,” Seokjin defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender.

“If he didn’t like me he wouldn’t keep asking to see me again,” you insist. “I think he’s just a gentleman.”

Jin scoffs loudly. “No man is a gentleman these days, and if he is, he has an ulterior motive.”

You squint accusingly. “You just asked if I was sure he likes me because he hasn’t made a move yet, so how would he have ulterior motive?”

He isn’t making sense and you’re just getting annoyed. You should’ve just used google, it would’ve saved the embarrassment. Seokjin huffs, shaking his head before grabbing his game again. “Whatever, maybe you should try making a move first then.”

You roll your eyes but don’t say anything, turning your attention back to the television. You had been stupid to think he’d actually give you some good advice. Seokjin had been your roommate for a while now and in that time he’d become a close friend, but by god, was he infuriating sometimes.

Or, maybe his advice was good…make a move first…but the idea was so scary you couldn’t comprehend it…

When you think about it more, it seems like the only option, but tell that to the you that’s outside your apartment again, a kiss between you and Namjoon coming to an end… All you have to do is invite him in for drinks, maybe that would get the ball rolling, but you’re frozen to the spot, eyes wide as he stares at you maybe a little too hopefully…like he wants you to actually invite him in.

A thought crosses your mind and you’re horrorstricken. What if all this time it’s been you afraid to take things to the next step? You just hadn’t realised and your subconscious had blamed Namjoon instead… It all made perfect sense now. You were too scared to take it further because it had been so long since you’d last had sex. You were scared you’d forgotten. It dawns on you so hard you almost fall backwards. And that’s how you find yourself back inside your place Namjoonless and in a tizzy.

“So I take it you didn’t get lucky tonight?”

Seokjin’s voice makes you jump on the spot, turning around to see your roommate leaning against the kitchen counter, head tilted in interest. You sigh dramatically, dropping your handbag to the floor before shimmying your coat off slowly, huffing when you hang it over the pole.

“It’s me.”

“Huh?” Seokjin noises, looking confused by your random admission.

You sigh again, rounding the counter to meet him, trying to busy yourself by looking in one of the cupboards. Was there chocolate here? You need it, mountains of the stuff.

“We haven’t had sex because of me,” you continue. “I’m too scared.” You turn to see Seokjin still looking as confused as ever, and you pout. “What if I’ve forgotten how to have sex?”

He scoffs immediately. “You can’t forget.” His support makes you feel a little better, that is…until he carries on. “Women can’t forget, all they do is lie on their back—

“You did not just say that,” you cut him, eyes flashing fire, and he panics immediately, stumbling over his words, hands brandishing the air in alarm.

“No, no, what I mean is—

“Save it,” you snap, not even having the energy to be annoyed. You have bigger problems. “I’m just scared I’m gonna mess everything up,” you groan, exclaiming loudly when you realise a major detail. “Oh god—what if I can’t cum?!”

“Isn’t that his problem if he can’t make you cum,” Seokjin frowns, looking baffled.

“Then when if he doesn’t cum!” You practically shout.

“Have you seen you? Of course he’ll cum,” he deadpans instantly, and for some reason that makes you feel a little weird. Sort of blushy, even though it’s not even a compliment, and if it was, it wasn’t a very good one…

“Just don’t overthink it,” he tells you, and you nod solemnly. “Now can we stop talking about this? It’s weird,” he pulls a face. “If you’re still worried get a sex doll or something, a test run,” he jokes offhandedly, grabbing his glass of water from the counter. “I’m going to bed, goodnight.”

You wave him off absentmindedly, too deep in thought to really pay attention to how quick he’d scarpered, the reason unimportant to you. What was really gnawing at your brain right know was his last remark…get a sex doll… Of course that was extreme and also a little weird, but the premise was there…a test run… That’s what you needed. Something to break the ice. It had been a long time since you’d last had sex, and even then it hadn’t happened well—think oblivious to the fact your boyfriend was still sleeping with his ex, throw in a wild STI and consider you scarred from the act for a while after. It would only make sense you’d be dubious.

You and Jin were close, you’d been living together for more than a year and now you were friends. He knew a lot about you, said ex situation included, and you knew a lot about him. If you were going to feel comfortable around any guy, it would be him. He could be your test run. Maybe you aren’t thinking straight right now, but in your kitchen at 11pm it seemed like the sanest idea. Seokjin could ease you in, make you remember what it was like to be intimate with another person. If anything embarrassing or awkward happened it wouldn’t matter because it was Jin.

Your roommate Jin, your friend Jin. Noting more, nothing else. Of course he is handsome—beyond handsome. You’d been a little shellshocked when you’d first met him, but over time the novelty had worn away. He was just Jin. No big deal. The guy who is melodramatic and unfunny a lot of the time. The guy, who rather than go out and get laid, decides to play Animal Crossing on his DS. The guy who is so nice he’d probably say yes to this crazy idea…

That night you go to sleep determined, thoughts of a plan that can’t go amiss.

Only when morning comes, so does your senses. It’s not like you think the plan’s an awful idea, you just have no clue how to go about asking him. It’s not something you can just blurt out, he’ll run scared, kick you out on the streets with no where to go. You need something…some dutch courage… You need to loosen up a little before he comes home. He’s been out all day and as the sun sets and you’re pouring your first glass of wine, he’s coming through the door. He looks good. Maybe you’re looking at him in a new light, a desirable one. He always looks good, but tonight is different, and you soak in his beauty for a moment, noticing the way his black hair is parted, forehead on show, making him appear older, mature, distinguished…you could go on, but he interrupts your train of thought.

“Wine? On a Sunday night before work the next morning?” He questions, an eyebrow raised as he pulls off his jacket.

“It’s just one glass,” you shrug. “Want one?” The thought hits you randomly, he’ll probably need loosening up too.

“Okay, but just half a glass—I have a client first thing,” he replies, moving to stand next to you as you pull out another glass.

You grumble to yourself a little, him having work maybe playing a negative factor in your plan. You forgot that he works super early sometimes, but all in the name of a personal trainer, huh? Never mind, it’s still early, you still have enough time. You don’t need him for the whole night after all.

“Wow—I said half a glass,” he chuckles, grabbing your hand when you start pouring way over. You shake the bottle a little, silently showing him you may as well finish it and he grins, helping you put it down. “We can share the rest tomorrow night.”

You’re nervous as you sit on the sofa, hugging your legs to the side of you as you take a long sip on the red liquid. It tastes rich, but you welcome it, needing a distraction from your thoughts.

“So any news on the dating front? When’s your next one?” Seokjin asks you, taking a single sip of his drink and placing it on the coffee table.

“We scheduled Tuesday for a lunch date,” you shrug, not really wanting to talk about Namjoon. It would just waste time.

“Scheduled? Lunch date?” He repeats, face impressed by the professionalism of it all. “What does this guy do?”

“He’s a professor—

“Professor? Damn, nice,” he nods, now even more impressed.

You shrug again, needing to change the subject. If you don’t ask, you don’t know. If you don’t ask, you never get. You need to steer the subject closer to him.

“Yeah, so, how was your day?”

“My day was good,” he replies slowly, eyes watching you carefully. Are you acting strange? Is it that obvious? “How was yours?”

You take a deep breath, desperate to keep your cool and act normal. “Good also.” It wasn’t like you were thinking of 101 ways to ask your roommate to sleep with you—Google did not help by the way.

“Good,” he nods even slower, still watching you with care, and it occurs to you right there and then, you’ve both used the word good too many times.

You brace yourself, inhaling deeply again and you’ve never felt so in tune with your body before. It’s like every nerve is vibrating off the next and Seokjin—Seokjin is a living breathing man. He’s sat beside you, existing, like he has for the whole of his life, but in your case, for twelve months. He’s existed in your life for a whole year and you’re about to ask him to have sex with you. The thought is almost nauseating. It’s probably going to go wrong.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last night,” you begin, sounding far too formal for your liking.

“Oh?” He intones, mildly curious because it seems he can’t remember. Of course he doesn’t remember, you have the tendency to overthink the slightest of things.

“About being nervous, the sex doll thing,” you try to jog his memory.

He groans a little then. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been on eBay.”

“No!” You exclaim loudly, annoyed that he would even think such a thing. You go again, this time your voice smaller. “No, it’s just the other thing you said…a test run…” Seokjin raises an eyebrow at that, and so you carry on. “I feel like I need to have sex with someone I’m super comfortable with, someone I know really well.”

He pulls a face, rolling his eyes almost. “Well I should think after your near seventh date with this dude, you should know him extremely well.”

“Seokjin,” you chide, turning annoyed for a moment. Now wasn’t a time for joking around. This was serious!

“What,” he affronts. “I’m just saying.”

“You’re not listening to me,” you whine.

“I am!” He insists, before watching you with a wary eye. “You’re just acting really erratic. Are you sure this is your first glass? Bottle?”

“Will you just be quiet for a minute and listen,” you tell him, ignoring him completely. You need to get this out now. Before you pull out. “I mean you.”

He looks back at you blank, definitely unsure of what you mean. You swallow, needing to wet your mouth to be able to carry on, because your next sentence spells it out perfectly.

“I want you to have sex with me.”

His eyes turn form blank to wide straight away, nearly popping out of the eye sockets as his face contorts and he starts yelling dramatically. “You want me to be your sex doll?!”

“Please don’t,” you wince. Why did that have to be his first thought?!

“I don’t understand,” he says after a moment, face still shaken. “Isn’t it like cheating?”

“No,” you shake your head, dismissing him straight away. “Me and Namjoon aren’t together, we’re just going on dates—It’s not like it’s something serious.”

“What if it becomes serious?!” He exclaims. “What if you guys get married and you want me to say a speech at your wedding? Do I tell the guests I was your test run?”

“We’re not going to get married,” you roll your eyes. Why is he thinking too much? He’s a man, he’s supposed to jump at the chance.

“Then why are you seeing this guy if you don’t see a future?” He deadpans, and that’s enough for you. He’s not your father.

“Oh, my god—stop!” You groan, dropping your head in your hands. “You either want to help me out or not—When’s the last time you had sex?” You demand, face back up.

He pauses to think, scrunching up his nose. “Like…two months ago?”

“Well then!” You exclaim, hand slapping down on your knee. “You may have forgotten too! I can be your test run.”

“Trust me, ___,” he chuckles slightly. “Guys don’t forget. If their dick falls into something wet and warm they’re gonna thrust! It’s instinct.”

You pull a face immediately, kind of disgusted. “See, you don’t want to sleep with me, I’m gross,” he states, folding his arms.

“I do,” you insist. Who cares what he says? It’s his dick you’re interested in. He still looks dubious though, as if he doesn’t believe you. You sigh, leaning forward, desperate to convince him. “Look, I’ve had two slips of wine—fricking two! I’ve been thinking about this all day. I want to do it.”

His eyes are staring you down until he’s wavering. You’re getting to him, showing him you’re 100% serious, and he’s considering it, you can tell. But then something hits you, you have a moment of guilt, maybe feeling like you’re pressuring him and you fall back against the sofa. “I’m sorry, only if you want to too. It’s totally down—

“Okay,” he replies instantly, interrupting your speech.

“Okay?” You parrot, blinking hard, almost comically. Now that you have the answer you want you feel weird.

He shrugs. “Yeah, I’ll have sex with you. If it really means that much, but trust me,” he tells you, an eyebrow raised, “you won’t have forgotten.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, although you’re feeling slightly weak. He’s watching you patiently, and you cough, clearing your throat. “So…when do you want to…?”

“Tonight? Now?” He suggests and you splutter loudly.

“Now?!”

“Well, you have another date with Namjoon Tuesday,” he mumbles, looking a little put out by your reaction. Hearing your date’s name coming from Seokjin’s mouth is weird, especially because he almost sounds mocking.

“But you said you have to wake up early?”

You don’t know why you’re trying to stall this so much, just half an hour ago you were as eager as a beaver, and now you’re trying to find excuses to stop this madness. You just hadn’t been expecting the plan to be so easy and to happen so immediately. However, Jin was correct…your next date with Namjoon was very soon.

“It’ll be fine, what will this take? An hour—two tops. I’ll be in bed by midnight,” he tells you casually.

“Two hours?!” You half-shout, feeling faint.

“We won’t be having sex for two hours,” he shakes his head, amused by your reaction. “My stamina isn’t that good, just y’know covering all bases…”

Oh, how the tables have turned. You actually may pass out. Covering all bases?! Is this real life? You’re going to go through with this, have sex with your roommate? Your friend?!

“What do you say?” He asks, smile on his face.

You take a moment, tying to zone back into focus, before nodding you head. You’ve come this far, you may as well go through with it. It’s what you wanted, right?

“That sounds…fine…” You reply, not missing the way Seokjin swallows loudly, adam’s apple bobbing rapidly as he regards you. “Whose room?”

“Oh,” he intones, shaking his head, hands coming out animatedly as he crosses them. “It can’t be mine, what about Eomuk and Odeng?!”

You roll your eyes dramatically, groaning a little as he carries on. Those damn sugar gliders, they were the bane of your life. “They can’t hear their father have sex, that’s super weird.”

“Fine, my room it is,” you sigh.

Five minutes later you find yourself in the hallway, slightly trembling as you make a beeline for your bedroom.

“Where you going?” You ask Seokjin suddenly when you see him turn for his door.

“To get a condom,” he reply’s matter of factly and your stomach begins doing flips. For some reason that just makes this more real, and you’re painfully aware of how hard your heart drums inside your chest as you wait for him to make his return, hovering like a pest.

When he reappears casually holding the small foil packet in his hand you’re just about to explode. He’s going to use it. To enter you. To have sex with you. Your eyes sweep over his body, mid panic, just to notice something that makes you forget your worries for a moment.

“Why did you change?”

He’s now stood in front of you wearing grey sweat pants and a black t-shirt, looking like he was about to sleep rather than get lucky. You feel kind of put out, why isn’t he making an effort?

“I thought this would be more practical,” he tells you, looking down at his body. “Easy access, easy tugging,” he demonstrates by pulling the waistband of his sweats, and your stomach flips again when you see a flash of skin. “Not a thing goes amiss with me,” he carries on, now smirking at you.

“I’m not a military operation,” you gripe. You wanted this to be natural, not some kind of chore.

“Of course you’re not,” he grins, teasing you and you push at him playfully—instinctively. He chuckles and for a moment it feels more than natural. More natural than you’ve ever felt with Namjoon… Which is only expected seeing as you’ve known Seokjin for a year now, you tell yourself, shaking away the thoughts.

“Now, are you sure you want to do this?” Jin asks you as you step into your room, his eyes watching you intently.

“I’m sure,” you nod decisively. You’re nervous, but you want this—you need this.

He looks around your room, condom still in hand, taunting you. “Where do you want me? On the bed? Floor? That chair over there?” He points and you roll your eyes. Although you should be glad he’s trying to joke around, tying to relieve the tension.

“Bed, obviously,” you say, watching as he instantly crawls on and your heart begins to somersault.

Really, what are you thinking right now? This is insanity, but you find yourself following him anyway, watching as he places the cursed condom on your bedside table, turning back to look at you expectantly. You stare straight back, verging on a mental breakdown. Neither of you move, you’re even too scared to take a breath, until finally you gasp for air. “Okay!” You exclaim, “let’s under the covers—It’ll make things less weird.”

If your bodies are practically hidden apart from your heads it will be easier. You can do this, you tell yourself and begin to burrow under your duvet, Seokjin following suit. It doesn’t hit you until you both inside that you’re now fully clothed in bed, looking like a pair of absolute idiots. Although you must admit, seeing Seokjin inside your bed like this is quickening your heartbeat. The heat is already making delusional.

You go to speak but he’s suddenly moving closer to you, lips puckered, and you freak out, a yelling sound cracking in your throat as you push him back. “Wow, what are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” he rolls his eyes, as if you’d just asked him the most obvious question.

Kissing you?! Why did that have to be involved? You hadn’t even thought of the possibility, although, with time to now, it did make sense… It’s seems like you hadn’t thought this through at all…and you don’t even have time to panic.

“C’mon, ___, you were the one who asked me,” he grumbles, almost sounding annoyed and you sigh, giving in easily—too easily for someone who’s mid-anxiety attack.

“Okay, okay,” you tell him, shutting your eyes tight before pursing your mouth, heart thudding in your chest as you brace yourself for his touch. However, nothing happens and you’re forced to pry an eye open, instantly seeing Seokjin glare at you with the most unimpressed expression ever.

“Do it,” you order, psyching yourself up, but before you can close your eyes again properly his lips are on yours, lunging at you and you’re silently spluttering, body freeing up.

It takes a moment for you both to do anything other than press your lips against one another, but as the seconds trickle by, the sensation begins to feel normal—nice even. It’s he who makes the next move, tilting his head a little as he parts his mouth, taking yours with it in the process and you instinctively move against him, kissing him back. It’s hot and stuffy inside your bed, but as soon as you feel his cool hand on your face, guiding your chin so he can get a better angle, you begin to relax. Your eyes are still clenched solid, but at least you’re not as wooden as you expected.

It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue run against your bottom lip your heart begins to speed up again. Only not in fear anymore, more like pleasure? It’s weird, and once again, you don’t know what you were expecting. Duh, it’s obviously going to feel nice, with whoever the person. Pleasure was pleasure! When Seokjin feels your tongue gingerly meet his, he sighs a little in…his own pleasure? Relief? You don’t know, but it makes your body start up again, and suddenly you’re feeling very hot. His tongue is warm and wet as it enters your mouth, sticky sounds galore as he explores, and it isn’t long before you find yourself clutching onto his wrists, needing something to hold onto as your muscles dance together.

You don’t know how long you lie there kissing, but what you do know is that when he finally pulls away, you’re disappointed. Of course it’s to catch his breath, you need to too, but a part of you didn’t want it to stop. The kiss was good, and you feel guilty for thinking it, but it was much better than any kiss with Namjoon you’d had.

By this time you can sense Seokjin is watching you, and you have to pry your eyes open, afraid and vaguely aware you must look incredibly stupid. You’re nervous to look at him, but when your eyes finally land on him, your heart stops, a lump in your throat appearing. He looks beautiful. His dark hair is slightly tousled, the covers having messed it up, his cheeks rosy from the heat and maybe something else…? His lips swollen, kiss bitten from you and wet and something down below, something inside of you, begins to stir…

“Well, at least we know you haven’t forgotten how to kiss,” he murmurs, a teasing smiling at the corners of his mouth as he rubs your cheek affectionately. You’re too in shock to speak, even as you feel his hands move to the hem of your shirt. It’s not until he tugs that you come too. “Let’s see if you remember how to strip,” he’s whispering, but you’re panicking.

“Wait,” you stop him, eyes wide as you grip his knuckles and he pauses, eyebrows raised.

“You can’t keep your clothes on,” he tells you, but you keep frozen. He sighs. “Do you want to do this or not,” adding “—you don’t look like you do.”

“I’m nervous,” you tell him weakly. It’s not like you don’t want to do it, you’re just freaking out a little.

He nods in understanding. “Are you nervous because you haven’t had sex in a while, or because it’s me?”

“Both,” you admit, failing to meet his eyes.

“Okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. It’s calms you, reassures you. “Let’s just kiss again and we’ll take it from there?” He asks, and you can’t help but nod shyly, quietly happy that he’d suggested such a thing.

This time you kiss a little more naturally, tongues meeting instantly and surprises you a little when he rolls on top of you, caging your body under his. You grip his arms tightly, needing to anchor yourself. His breath is hot and sticky as he pulls away, moaning a little when your mouth reaches for him again and he gives in easily before kissing down your chin hungrily, like he’s losing himself. When he finds your neck you’re practically shuddering under him, tilting your head so he can garner more room, kissing and licking, even nipping up the column of your throat. You moan unexpectedly and he moans back, hands gripping your waist as he falls to the side, nosing your neck as he carries on kissing you, groaning in enjoyment.

It’s at that moment you feel something hard press against your upper thigh and you pause, realising it’s his dick. It’s a strange registration…kissing you has made him hard…he’s enjoying himself…and it’s not until he’s pulling away and asking you what’s wrong, that you’ve realised you’ve frozen up.

“I can feel something,” you whisper to him, thigh jutting out to show him what you mean.

He pauses for a moment before kissing your neck again. “My dick,” he replies.

“It’s hard,” you state the obvious pathetically.

“Well no shit,” be deadpans, messing around. “It kind of needs to be hard so I can have sex with you.”

“It got hard quick.”

“No it didn’t,” he shoots, almost as if he’s embarrassed, and you’re confused. “We’ve been kissing for over 10 minutes,” he explains. “Why are you moaning about it?”

“I’m not,” you say. You’re just not used to it. Most of the guys you’ve been with have definitely not got this hard so quick. It’s a compliment and it makes you happy.

“Good,” he kisses your neck, fingers playing with the edge of your shirt again. “Can I take it off now?”

You nod instantly, surprising yourself and Seokjin wastes no time in ridding you of your garment, helping him by sitting up slightly so he can get it over your head. He’s speechless when he sees our bare chested, eyes unable to look away and it makes you belly fix in excitement. It’s like he truly wants you…

You lie back down and he hovers over you again. This time you go back to kissing naturally, until he’s pecking down your throat again, lips moving to your chest until they’re hovering over your breasts. He watches you curiously as he takes a nipple between them and flicks his tongue across the hardened nub. You gasp, chest jutting out, chasing the feeling, wanting more. It feels so good and you can’t help but shut your eyes, concentrating on the sensation.

It’s when one of his hands falls to your crotch and you feel him rub between your legs to you moan, eyes snapping open as you curse out—“Fuck.”

“Does it feel good?” He asks, rubbing harder, the heat collecting until it burns.

You nod, feeling your underwear stick to you, but you look down in confusion when he stops, watching him sit up to push the covers away.

“I’m getting hot,” he explains, and before you can utter a word he’s tearing off his t-shirt, his torso in full view now. You’ve never really imagined his body before, but obviously you should’ve been expecting what you see before you—wide shoulders, hard pecs and a toned stomach—something you want to run your hands down, and without thinking, you do. He admires you doing so, smiling smugly as you catch eyes. “I bet that guy doesn’t have a body like this.”

“It’s not a competition,” you dismiss, although you can’t help but smile too, shrugging him off.

His fingertips glide over your lower belly, tracing the waistband of your leggings before he’s looking across hopefully at you. “Can I?”

You nod, helping him shimmy them off you before his eyes fall to him core, only hidden by black panties. He’s practically drooling now and you grin, brushing your fingers over one shoulder. “Take them off too,” you tell him, bracing yourself for when he practically dives on your body.

The cold air hits you as you become fully naked, heart pumping weirdly regular as you watch Seokjin view you as if he’s mesmerised. One hand reaches for your thigh and he pulls your legs apart gently, a smirk forming.

“You’re wet quick,” he teases. “We’ve only been kissing.”

“Shurrup,” you whine weakly. “You’ve been touching me too.”

He surprises you by instantly pushing one finger inside you, making you gasp and clutch at his wrist, halting him for a moment. Slowly you let him continue, guiding him until he gains a rhythm and then you let carry on, dropping your hand to your side to instead roll your hips into him, feeling him trace and press against your walls, pleasure flowing through your body.

“Damn,” he awes. “I’m sorry, it’s just you look really hot like this,” he tells you, watching you carefully as he fingers you slowly. “See, you haven’t forgotten anything.”

“I was worried for nothing,” you smile, feeling a little more confident.

“You knew you were,” he raises an eyebrow, but the time for conversation is over when you begin moaning, the sensation finally becoming too much for you.

“Shit,” he croaks, fingering you faster before he pulls out and you whine, but he’s already kneeling up, looking at you hopefully, pleadingly almost. “Can I…Can I eat you out?”

You falter, not expecting him to ask such a thing and he carries on, almost like he’s desperate to, and that just turns you on even more. You hadn’t even realised how turned on him were until he got you naked. There’s almost no reservations left now, just desire.

“I mean, what if that guy wants to and you get ticklish or something… You should probably practice…”

You should be laughing at his shitty attempt to try and convince you, but you want him so bad by now you don’t even care. “Um, okay,” you agree.

“Really?!” He exclaims, looking surprised. You nod. “Fuck, fuck, okay,” he rushes, hovering over you as you widen your legs, letting him fit. Having him so close to you makes you nervous and you squirm away.

“See, ticklish, I told you,” he whispers, pinning you back in place and goosebumps appear across your thighs.

“It’s because your face is right in front of my vagina,” you tell him.

“Mmhm, mouth’s gonna be on it too in a minute,” he murmurs and before you can say anything clever you feel something wet and delicate across your clit. His tongue. He’s really eating you out right now… You can’t comprehend it for a moment until you look down and see his mouth on your core. You moan instantly at the visual.

“Feels good?” He asks, pulling away to look up at you and you nod—it’s all you can do. “What do you like?” He presses on, flicking his tongue against you again as you widen your legs, desperate for more. “Licking, sucking, fucking…” He whispers almost seductively, dragging his tongue down your slit before it’s entering you briefly, making you gasp and cover your face in embarrassment.

“Don’t be shy, tell me what you like so I can make you feel good,” he teases, kissing against the inside of your thighs now before reaching back to your core and sucking at your clit, your stomach muscles flexing on their own accord as you drop your arm to peep at him again.

“I like—I liked when you sucked,” you stutter out.

He goes back to doing just that instantly, suckling gently before he’s simultaneously flicking his tongue against your bundle of nerves too. It feels so good you’re no longer self conscious, moaning loudly now, enjoying the sensations he’s making you feel.

“You like that too?” He asks, and you moan a reply, nodding your head crazily. “How about if I...” He trails off, tongue dropping your entrance as he licks around it, your whole-body shuddering when he shakes his head, nose catching your clit.

“Jin!” You cry out, and he groans against you, vibrations flying up your body. “Oh fuck,” he grunts, eating you out faster now, his whole face buried between your legs, cheeks shining with your arousal.

“Oh, my god, Seokjin,” you moan when his fingers tease at your entrance, pushing two all the way in before he pulls out again. “Do that again,” you beg, and he obliges, fingering you all the way now, curling his digits against your g-spot.

Your hands fly to his hair, gripping the locks by the roots as you anchor him to you and he moans greedily, as if he’s enjoying himself more than you. You’ve never been with a guy who was this enthusiastic about eating you out before. It’s hot.

“Good?” He gasps, pulling away for a second before he goes back, and you go to let go of his head, but he stops you. “Don’t let go, I like it.”

That only sends fresh pleasure plummeting through every nerve in your body and you begin to tug at the strands, pushing him further to you if that’s possible. You’re losing yourself, you’ve almost forgotten that you’re getting way too friendly with your roommate because it’s so good you can’t help but moan and gasp out.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg once you think you’re nearly there. It’s been a while since another person has made you come and it’s never quite the same when you’re masturbating. “Please.”

“You gonna cum?” He grunts against you.

“Mmhm,” you get out, writhing about under him. Your whole body is hot, boiling up and you can feel it building up inside you, ready to explode. “Shit—holy shit,” you cry, whole body tensing up, toes digging into the sheets as your orgasm hits you like a tornado, obliterating you, rendering you weak.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat shakily, feeling Seokjin pull away and watching him kiss up your stomach before he’s pulling away, scampering up your body to kiss you messily a couple of times, face wet and you taste your own sweetness. You run his shoulders with your hands, enjoying the way his skin feels under your palms, you like touching him. It feels almost right…

“Can we—Can we?” He pants, one hand reaching for the condom on your dresser. You nod instantly, watching him fight with the packet. “That was so fucking hot,” he gushes and your heart begins to dance around in your chest.

Even more so when he’s ripping his sweat off, naked before you in what feels like a blink of an eye he’s so desperate. You want to touch him, seeing his hard dick in front of your eyes, but you’re mesmerised, unable to move, just watching him with hungry eyes as he rolls the condom on.

“I really want to be inside you,” he confesses and all you can do is agree. You don’t know the change happened so fast, when you turned from nervous and scared to horny and uncontrollable so quickly, but here you are, unable to wait any longer. You need him inside of you. You need to feel him stretching you out, pleasuring you.

“Shit,” he shudders, when he finally pushes inside you, slowly, so your walls hug him bit by bit, until he’s pausing, overcome with pleasure. “You feel so good,” he practically whimpers.

He stays still for a moment, just enjoying the sensation as you pulse and grip around him, hands clutching at his shoulders before you can’t take it any longer and need him to move—you need him to fuck you.

“Move,” you beg, forcing your hips up and then he’s listening, thrusting into you, groaning and grunting as he loses himself.

It feels so good, having him stretch you out, move in and out, languid strokes turning faster as he holds your thighs open, bottoming out as he gets as deep as he can get, mouth agape as he closed his eyes. He looks so beautiful and you can’t take your eyes off him, wanting to touch every inch of his body, and your hands fall to his back and them to his ass, clutching the flesh as you hold him to you. His whole body his hot and sweaty, just like yours, dark hair stuck to his forehead as he looks down at you now, grunting, stomach muscles clenching. You can sense he’s close, his thrusts messier and harder, breath shuddering, arms shaking as he holds himself up. You can’t help but moan louder now, your own thighs trembling as you hold them open, feet hovering off the body, leaning against his body.

“I’m gonna cum,” he manages to get out, warning you before he’s collapsing over you body, head in the crook of your neck as he exhales sharply, body tensing up before it relaxes, signalling his release as he sighs out a fuck.

“Fuck indeed,” you whisper after a moment of catching your breath, limbs still shaky as he pulls out of you, kissing your neck lightly, you don’t even think he noticed he’s done so, but the action touches you, makes your heart flutter.

He rolls off you, lying beside you and chuckles out of breath. You turn to face him, unable to keep the grin off his face when you see him. His cheeks are rosy, hair curled at the ends as it sticks to his clammy forehead, lips swollen and pink. He looks so good you can’t take your eyes off him.

“Do you know you turn into a potty mouth when you have sex,” he asks you and you get embarrassed, burying you head into the pillow. He moves closer to you, body heat and scent clouding your mind—you’ve never noticed how good he smells tonight, and you’re faintly aware your bed will smell of him for a while now…

“See, you didn’t forget. Trust me, that was good,” he whispers in your ear, making you blush harder, refusing to look at him, but you giggle in response. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you, and you can hear him sitting up now, the telltale noises of removing the spoiled condom fills the room and you’re surprised when you hear the bed springs squeak as he gets off the bed.

“You’re going?” You ask, finally pulling away from your pillow to see Seokjin getting changed quickly.

“Yup, I need to wake up at 6,” he nods.

“Of course…” You don’t know why you’re so disappointed. Did you really expect him to spend the night with you in your bed? It was obscured now that you did. He has his own bed, one that was probably comfier than yours, but it still makes you feel a little put out when he left…

“Well….goodnight,” he bids you a little awkwardly, pausing by the door and you blink rapidly for a moment, shaking yourself out the trance you seem to be under.

“Night, Seokjin,” you smile slightly, watching him leave and you collapse back against your pillow, sighing loudly.

You thought about telling him thanks, but you’re sure that’s just too awkward. You want to sleep, but your mind won’t switch off and you can’t stop thinking back. It all happened so quickly you feel almost sad. All of that over; trying to force yourself to ask him to agree, all that mild stress, panic, and now it’s done. That was it. A one time thing… It makes you feel iffy, and you can’t seem to understand why. It feels weird he’s in his room just behind the wall. You wonder if he went to sleep straight away…

All you know is you probably won’t. You can still smell him on your sheets as if he was actually spending the night…

You had the worst nights sleep. You’d never felt so sated but anxious at the same time and it’d taken what seemed like hours to fall asleep, feeling like a zombie come morning. One thing was for sure though, you were glad Seokjin had left for work early because you didn’t think you could’ve looked him in the eye while making breakfast…

It’s not like you regret what happened. It was good. That’s probably the problem… Maybe it’s because you’d been without sex for such a long time, but you’re feeling overwhelmed. You can’t stop thinking about it all day at work and when you come home your mind is still preoccupied. You have no doubt in your mind your bed still smells of him, and you make a mental note to change the sheets before you get in it tonight.

Relief fills you for a moment when you walk through the door to see the living/kitchen area empty and you fling off your coat before lumping your groceries on the counter. You’d needed something quick and easy for food, a cheap put together salad would do the trick. Your head was tired, your body sore after a long day at the office. It feels weird too, your hips feel tingly and when you walk you’re bouncing—maybe that’s the sign of a good banging? You’re unsure, or maybe you’re just so unused to being sexually active your body’s playing tricks on you—

“Hey!”

You jump with a yell, like you’ve been caught doing something wrong, thoughts interrupted and you refuse to turn towards Seokjin’s voice, busying yourself with opening your salad. You knew it was too good to be true, he was in his room all this time.

“Hi,” you greet breezily, desperate to sound normal, although you’re pretty sure it fails miserably. You sound like an idiot.

“You look pretty today.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, your salad now the most interesting thing in the world—it’s amazing how many shades of green there.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a hand coming out to sweep your hair behind your ear. Why the hell is he saying such rubbish? And why are you blushing?

“You’re wearing the earrings I got you for Christmas,” he notices, and before you know it he’s touching one, fingers delicately angling the silver to the light so the gems sparkle as he views. “They look nice on.”

“Am I? I didn’t realise,” you dismiss with an awkward chuckle, dropping your head.

There’s a pause, as if he realises there’s something wrong and then he’s moving closer. “Hey, are you okay?”

He smells good, just like you remember from last night and you’re sucked back, images of you and him popping into your mind. You blink rapidly, trying to get them to leave. It’s no use.

“Nothing’s awkward between us, right?” He presses, and he sounds worried. You can’t handle it.

“No,” you insist, shaking your head as you turn to face him, and it takes everything you have to look him in the eyes as he regards you with uncertainty. You try again. It’s either that or tell him, yes, things are indeed awkward between you both, because every time you look at him you imagine his head between his legs and how good it felt and how much you want it again. The thought is strange, and scary, and you definitely don’t want to dwell on it too much.

“I promise. I’m just tired, work was pretty crazy today and I have to leave early tomorrow to meet Vanessa for coffee before we the hit the office again, and then—

“—and then your lunch date with Namjoon,” he finishes for you. You nod. “Is tomorrow the day?”

“At lunch?” You scoff. “I don’t think so.”

“Well don’t let all my hard work go to waste,” he says, giving you a cheeky grin, nudging his shoulder against yours.

“Stop,” you whine, and for a moment, as your eyes meet, everything is back to normal again. No, not normal—different. And it feels kind of good.

“Sorry, sorry,” he raises his hands, before his eyes catch the clock on the wall. “Okay, so I have to love you and leave you, I have a client at 7.”

“Oh, okay,” you blink, feeling him move away from you and you watch him grab his keys from the bowl on the cabinet. “See you later then, maybe.”

He nods, body out the door already before he calls back, “don’t fall asleep on the couch,” and then you’re alone…with your salad…yay.

You sigh loudly, no one to hear you, you can be as dramatic as you like. Things will go back to normal soon, it’s just fresh right now. If Seokjin can act like nothing’s changed, you can, and besides, nothing has, right? Right…?

Wrong.

Nothing goes back to how it was. If anything, it just gets stranger. It all starts with the next day, your lunch date with Namjoon. You should be over the moon when he makes a very brash move and asks you over to his to watch a movie that night. Instead, you’re filled with dread and panic royally, making up an excuse—no a lie.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you breeze, desperate to keep your tone light. “I actually made plans with my roommate tonight.”

Those “plans” instantly remind you of what you were doing with Seokjin two nights ago and you instantly feel flush, skin tingling at the surface. You don’t know if you should feel guilty as you look up at Namjoon. Well, you feel guilty for lying to him right now, but that’s about it. You don’t feel guilty for sleeping with Seokjin, even as the other man smiles understandingly at you, head tilted.

“A rain check then?”

“A rain check,” you nod back, relieved moving things to the next level as been delayed once again.

With your Namjoon problem sorted for the time being, over the next couple of weeks things get increasingly awkward with Seokjin. By the end of it you’re wondering if this was truly a good idea. The end game hadn’t ended the way you’d thought: you still didn’t want to sleep with Namjoon, and now to top everything all off, things are weird between you Seokjin. What did you expect really?

It seems you can’t hold down a conversation with him because you’re too busy trying to look away from his lips, or just trying to stop gazing at his face on the whole. Seokjin has always been incredibly handsome, but after living with him for so many months you just got used used to it. Having sex with him had just obliterated that. You find yourself admiring his beauty when you least expect it, like when he’s just come home from work and he’s in sweats. You can’t help but to imagine his body underneath, like when he was on top of you, rolling his hips into you… Or when he’s actually been to the gym himself and he hair is slightly damp, curling up at the ends, cheeks rosy, and when he shoots you his smile you feel yours knees weakening below you, your skin practically melting off your bones.

You hate and love the new things you’re noticing about him, but it’s getting harder to concentrate and in all honesty, you miss him. You miss what you used to have, how you used to act together, while simultaneously wanting more of what had happened.

There. You’d admitted it. For some reason you didn’t want to sleep with Namjoon, but you couldn’t stop imagining the act with your roommate. It was infuriating, and you should’ve known sex always had a way of playing with people’s minds.

“You had the last of the ice cream,” you grumble, throwing the empty carton that Jin had left on the side into the trash can.

You’d finally ventured out of your room to look for something sweet for a Friday night. Your bedroom had been your number one hiding spot, false claims of work reports needing to be filled out immediately a seemingly common excuse this past week or so. You can’t take it any more though, you miss him. Even if it may be awkward just to be in the same room as him, you can’t handle no contact for so long. It’s killing you, and you’re lonely.

“Want some of this?” He asks, holding his bowl out as you walk towards the sofa.

You pull a face, nose wrinkled up. “No thanks, your spoon germs have been all over that,” you tell him, sitting down while making sure there’s an adequate enough gap between you.

He gives you a pointed look, judging you hard, before quipping something that has you spluttering. “___, I’ve literally been inside you.”

“Seokjin!”

“Oh, I’ve missed that,” he grins, hugging his bowl to him, and your forehead furrows, confused for a moment. “You griping my ass.”

You feel surprised for a moment. Seeing him so happy—and for something so trivial and maybe even a little weird…but most importantly, it makes you feel something; your belly doing little somersaults as you realise something you did made him so unbelievably happy. You.

“I always do it,” you say back though, because well, it’s true. You’d think he’d be annoyed by now.

He side eyes you—only slightly, but it’s enough for you to notice and he hesitates, as if he’s about to say something but doesn’t know if he should. In the end he goes with it, his head or his heart you have no idea.

“You haven’t in a while…ever since we slept together.”

You’re speechless for a moment, heart falling into your gut, and you take too long to reply because he’s jumping in again, eyes watching your reaction curiously.

“In fact, you’ve been acting strange ever since.”

“Have not!” You insist loudly.

You don’t know why, it’s instinct, it must be. Just knowing he’s realised how weird you’ve been acting (like it wasn’t obvious) makes you feel off. You feel guilty. You don’t want him to think it’s because you regret anything, because you don’t, that’s the problem. You’re acting strange because you want more, you want it to happen again, and he probably doesn’t… You need to accept that and try to salvage your friendship, because it’s something you hold dear to you.

You take a moment to think, even as he watches dubiously—he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, it makes you want to try harder.

“You don’t have work tomorrow, right?” You ask and he shakes his head. “Great, then let’s watch Netflix! Wait—let me get a spoon,” you stop yourself, getting up to run to the cutlery drawer.

If it means sharing his mouth germs in order to get back to normal, you will, and you make extra sure to sit closer to him tonight, just like you used to before you’d stupidly made the mistake of asking him to sleep with you. Even if his scent is driving you crazy and the warmth of his body is making you want to curl yours against his… He’s wearing a fluffy hoody and it looks super cosy. It isn’t fair.

You try your hardest to concentrate on the movie, to act normal, but through the night you can’t help but take sly glances at him. Every time he laughs you find your stomach does flips and you’re sure he catches you looking at him more than the tv, but he doesn’t say anything, just smiles that lopsided smile he does sometimes.

You almost want him to bring it up. Or even just that night in general. You want to talk about it, tell him how you’re feeling, but that would only ruin things, because right now you can’t get out of your head how much you want to kiss him, and how most of all, from what you remember of that night, is how you didn’t get to kiss him enough…

You’re doomed.

The tenth date. That’s what you’re on right now and it’s still a mess. No matter how how hard you try you can’t seem to move forward. Namjoon is a sweet guy, you have a lot in common. He’s handsome, charming, funny; everything you could possibly want in a man, so then why are you one glass of wine away from being drunk just to make a move. It shouldn’t be like this, and it doesn’t work anyway.

You’re fighting a nonexistent battle, and you’re unsure why. It’s probably obvious by now that Namjoon isn’t the one, there’s nothing there, you don’t know why you’re trying so hard to make something like a few dates so meaningful. You don’t know why you’re trying to prove a point to yourself, like you’re trying to prove that one night with Seokjin meant nothing even though you haven’t been able to stop thinking of anything since. You’re stuck, and it just seems to just get worse.

“Hey, you’ve drunk it all,” you pout, eyeing the empty bottle of wine on the counter as you fling your coat off. You don’t even bother to hang it up tonight, you just leave it on a clump on the floor and move over to the sink to rinse your hands.

“Sorry,” Seokjin apologies, looking a little guilty, but as he watches you wobble towards him on the sofa he raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you had enough already?”

“Nope,” you shake your head, collapsing in the seat next to him.

You’re not drunk—yet, but wine was something you’d wanted more of when you got home from the shittiest date so far. At this point you’re practically yelling in your head at Namjoon to tell you where to go. You can tell he’s thinking this is all a mistake, just like you, but he’s too nice for his own good. You’re a bitch, you can’t even tell him you don’t want to do this anymore…because if you do, you’re going to have to start questioning some very real and confusing feelings you’re having for your one and only roommate, and of course, you don’t want to do that at all! Even thinking about it for a mere millisecond makes you sigh loudly, head collapsing in your lap, practically bent over 90 degrees.

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asks, sounding concerned, shuffling closer to you.

“Shitnsmdate,” you mumble into your jeans, surprised he can understand, but he does, and you don’t know if you’re imagining it, but his body stiffens, a gap forming between you again as he speaks.

“You haven’t slept with him yet, have you?”

His question makes you feel funny. For multiple reasons really. Firstly, he really thinks you’re bummed out because you can’t get dicked down by some random guy? He’s so wrong it hurts, and secondly, he’s really talking about this right now? He honestly hasn’t said anything about it since that night he noticed you were wearing the earrings he’d got you. It was like he’d been avoiding the subject for some reason and it had just added to the awkward atmosphere between you too. You hadn’t even told him you were on a date tonight…

You think all these things and you even want to tell him, but instead, you nod your head lousily in reply.

“How come?” He asks, almost sounding morbidly curious.

You’re stuck between wanting to avoid the subject and spill your guts. It’s hard when you were so used to being honest with Seokjin and now you can’t talk to him properly. You miss it, so you decide to go for it.

“I honesty don’t know,” you reply, lifting your head back up, but you keep your gaze firmly on your thighs, picking at a piece of loose cotton. “I think it’s about time I just called it day. He’s a nice guy but really, the thought of having sex with him isn’t very appealing…I just don’t think it’s going anywhere…”

Seokjin stays quiet and in the end you have to look at him just to know his reaction. When he sees, he nods in reply, eyes watching yours closely. He opens his mouth to say something but shakes his head, deciding at the last minute not too, chuckling quietly as he takes a sip of his wine.

“What about you?” You ask, and he pauses, cocking an eyebrow in your direction so you can explain further. “Why are you drinking alone on a Saturday night?” He’s in the process of finishing a bottle of wine to himself so he must be pretty half cut too…

“Oh, that…” He chuckles again, putting the glass to his lap as he shrugs. “I had an argument with Yoongi. He was trying to make me go on this date with a girl he knows from work and ugh—” he groaned loudly, “—I just didn’t want to go.”

“So you guys had an argument? I didn’t know Yoongi was an extremely passionate match maker,” you laugh, bemused so badly for a moment you almost forget everything.

“It’s not that,” he tells you, hesitating. “It’s…complicated, and I—I can’t tell you,” he rushes, obvious enough to make you feel weird. What’s he not telling you? But before you can pry, he’s changing the subject back to you. “So what? Tenth date without any sex?”

“I should’ve just realised it wasn’t going to work out after the fifth date,” you shrug. “I’ve made some questionable decisions along the way…”

“You’re saying I’m a questionable choice?”

He’s quick to ask and his tone is sharp—he’s offended. It surprises you.

“No!” You exclaim, panicking. For some reason, offending Jin is something that worries you. You don’t want him to think you regret it or anything, because that’s definitely not the case. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant maybe I acted a bit…rash.”

“Well I don’t regret it,” he quips, almost like he’s defensive, and hearing him say such a thing makes your heart race.

“I don’t either,” you agree, feeling braver.

“I liked it. Actually, I can’t stop thinking about it…” he carries on, not looking you in the eye, but his face is kind of complacent, smug almost…or brave? It’s hard to place, but his words set a fire inside of you.

He can’t stop thinking about it? Just like you? He liked it… Your heart is now banging against your rib cage, and it hasn’t beat this hard since the night you slept together, since you’d kissed… At the thought of kissing him, your eyes fall to his mouth; lips wine stained, red and full. It takes you a while to notice they’re moving, he’s talking again.

“I’m sorry if that makes things awkward.”

But it doesn’t really sound like he’s sorry, he’s so matter of fact, as if he’s acting with a courage he doesn’t quite have, putting on an act, trying to psych himself up. It makes you feel braver too.

“No, it’s okay,” you tell him. “I can’t stop thinking about it either.”

There’s nothing awkward another this, if anything it’s clearing your semi-drunken mind, and you watch as his expression changes to shock, eyes bulging a little.

“So what does this mean?” He asks, but you’re not really listening.

You can’t stop staring at his mouth, and his confession keeps ringing in your ears. If he can’t stop thinking about what happened then that must mean he wants it to happen again? Or at least wouldn’t mind if it did… Your rationality is warped, clouded in wine and you go for it—because it seems like the right thing to do.

“I mean, it all happened—

You shut him up with a kiss, practically launching yourself at him. You manage to press down once before he’s pulling away, looking royally shocked now.

“Oh, we’re kissing?” He asks, and you panic.

“I’m sorry, I just—

It’s his turn to stop you then, face determined before it��s closing in and he’s pressing his lips against yours. “Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, before he’s going again and then you’re kissing him back.

His lips feel the same as you remember, soft, but this time around he kisses with vigour—urgent, as if he can’t get enough, as if this time he really means business, and you let him entirely, gasping a little when he nips at your bottom lip. Your tongue comes out, searching for him, but he pulls away.

“Let me put my glass down,” he murmurs, leaning forward to shove it down on the coffee table with a clank and before he can speak again, you’re pinning him back, straddling his lap neatly, knees either side of his hips as you close the gap between you once again.

This time you kiss wildly and freely, not bothering to think, you just go with the feeling, tongues meshing together as you both hum and moan a little in pleasure. His hands run along your back, before they settle at to your waist and he clutches tight, breathing heavily as he pulls away to catch his breath.

“I kind of regret not kissing you enough last time,” he admits, eyes wide and glassy as he looks up at you, and you nod, unable to stay away for long enough to reply and you place loud and lingering pecks to his plush mouth.

“Me—too,” you manage to agree, sounds muffled as your lips clash against his.

It’s not long before his hands find their way to your ass and he squeezes tightly, stilling under you as he waits for a reaction. You give him one alright, moaning loudly against his open mouth as you grind your crotch against his, the heat between you both tangible. He moulds the skin this time, rubbing the curve of your ass before squeezing again, making you grind down on him more, until he’s helping you along, dragging your hips along his lap, growing hard under you. He’s groaning quietly, breathing loud and he pulls away for second, head back against the couch as he watches you move.

“Fuck, you make me so hard,” he murmurs, voice shaky and the effect it has on you is almost pathetic. “You can feel it, right?” He asks, as you twist over him and you nod, moaning a little at the fiction. You have no doubt that you’re wet.

He groans, unable to help himself as he pulls you to him and latches his wet mouth to your neck, kissing and sucking, licking strips up the flesh—anything he can do just to kiss and touch every inch of you.

“Shit, I want you to ride my dick so bad, right here,” he whines lightly, gripping one ass cheek, and you grow hotter, frail to his touch. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it every night.”

The fact that he’s been imagining just what you have blows your mind, and it feels like you could burst right then are there. The fact he’s talking like this too is enough to turn you on even more and you’re suddenly filled with the need to make him feel good—just like he had made you feel so good the other week.

“I kinda want to suck you off first,” you tell him, voice laced with sweetness as you batter your eyelashes at him and he’s putty in your hands, watching you slide down his body and to your knees before him.

“Fuck, o-kay,” he gets out, spreading his legs. “I can go twice tonight.”

He’s visibly hard, bulge protruding in his pants. You quickly go to touch him, running your hand over him before squeezing and he groans, bucking his hips into your hand and you rub vigorously, chasing his reaction. His head falls back as he stares up at the ceiling, chest raising up and down as his mouth falls parted. He looks so good and you want him so bad, but as your hand moves to his zip something hits you.

You want him too much. You know even after this you’ll want more and the thought is scary. What you’re feeling isn’t going to go away, it’s going to keep on growing. You like him. It all makes perfect sense now. Why you’re so reluctant to sleep with Namjoon, why you keep lusting after Seokjin, why you keep thinking about him. You want him because you like him, and that’s bad, because you don’t think he likes you back.

This is just sex for him, it must be, and you can’t do this to yourself. If you fall harder for him—your roommate, things will only get worse. You can’t do it, it can’t go any further. You know there’s probably no chance he likes you back and now you need time to think things through. He probably likes someone else anyway… You think back to a moment ago when h he told you he’d argued with Yoongi… He couldn’t tell you the reason? Why not? What if he really likes someone and he’s using you to ease his heart. He’s drunk right now, or at least enough to cloud his rationality, and you’re sober enough to stop this. You have to, because you can’t get hurt.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, noticing your reluctance.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you must do, even though you don’t want to stop. But you know it’s for the best. “We shouldn’t do this.”

His eyes widen for a moment but he doesn’t say anything and you take the chance to carry on. “I mean…we’re drunk. This will probably be a mistake tomorrow.”

It’s true that you’re pretty intoxicated, but that still means something to you. You won’t regret it, not one bit, but for him you’re not so sure. You don’t know what’s going on inside his head after all. He watches you for moment and you so badly want him to tell you not to be silly, that this is what you both want, he likes you too and this is the right thing to do…but he doesn’t… Instead, he agrees.

“You’re right,” he nods, sitting up and you fall away from him, back against the coffee table. “We should stop—Fuck, I’m sorry, this is pretty crazy,” he half-chuckles, half-sighs, running his hand through his hair, and when he looks at you again, he’s smiling.

It hurts you, that he can change so quickly, but you need to agree, you need to show him you’re okay, and you stretch a painful grin across your face too, forcing your voice to sound amused.

“I don’t get what’s up with us lately.”

He snorts, waving his hand about, “something in the air maybe…”

Everything’s a blur after that, you get up, feeling awkward and oddly vulnerable. A first-class idiot. “I should go to bed,” you tell him and he nods, scratching the back of his neck casually.

“Same. I’ll just finish my drink first,” and he reaches for his glass, pointing it in the air. “G’night.”

“Night, Jin.” This time you find it almost impossible to sound okay, but finally you make it to your bedroom, shutting the door just to lean against it weakly.

You’re lost. Your mind’s a mess. Is it really true you like Seokjin? Your roommate?! Since when?! You’ve been living with him for so long you’d have thought you would’ve noticed… It’s simple when you like someone, easy to realise… So why has it only come about now? What has changed? Sleeping with him… But wouldn’t that be such a shallow reason?

Or maybe you’d liked him for longer…that’s why your subconscious had thought it was a good idea to ask him… Maybe that’s why all your dates with Namjoon haven’t amounted to much? Because deep down you liked Seokjin?

It’s crazy to think and doesn’t even make sense. You don’t know what is true and what isn’t. You can’t like him, he’s your roommate, it will just ruin everything. Things are bound to get more awkward, and worse. Definitely for you, especially if he likes someone else. You’re destined for more hurt, and that sucks, and you can’t see a way out…

You don’t get any sleep that night, trying to sort out your head, to pick apart every feeling, every emotion, every hint that could have lead to falling for Jin. Nothing makes sense regardless and come morning you’re panicked, desperate for a solution.

“___.”

When Seokjin calls you through the door you jump, not expecting it and your heart begins racing, even more panic washing over you. You can’t see him now, you’re not ready. You don’t think you’ll ever be ready, and that scares you. You don’t want your friendship with him to be ruined.

“Uh, yeah?” You ask, voice sounding forced.

“Can I come in and talk?”

“Uh,” you panic, looking around your room, desperate for an excuse. “I just came out the shower—we can talk through here though.”

“Oh—okay,” he hesitates. You can hear him move behind the door, feet shuffling about and when he speaks again, his voice is louder. “Um, well, I just want to apologise again—

“Seokjin, I said it was okay, honestly,” you cut in, desperate for him to stop. It wasn’t his fault anyway. You’re the one who’s catching feelings. “We were both drinking. It was a mistake, at least we stopped before anything else happened, right?”

“I—yeah, that’s true…” he trails off, sounding as if he wanted to say something else but decided against it.

“I’m sorry too,” you add meekly. “I was the one who kissed you first—and asked you to have sex with me.”

He scoffs through the door, laughing quietly. “I don’t mind honestly—I—can’t you get dressed quickly so we can talk face to face?”

He’s almost begging it sounds like and you want to give in. You want to know what he has to say, but you’re scared it’s going to be something you don’t like… You’re just afraid, period. Afraid of what this all means…

“I’m running really late anyway,” you lie. “I need to be in the office early and—

“Well can we speak tonight?” He butts in. “I think we need to sort some things out—I can make us dinner?”

You panic more. He sounds so serious you don’t ever want to sit down or speak with him alone ever again… What if he knows you like him? What if he’s figured it all out and he’s going to pity you? Turn you down “nicely.” You’re already mortified.

“I, uhm, I actually said I would meet Namjoon tonight.”

Another lie to add to the never-ending list and you hate yourself.

There’s silence for a moment, and you hear him take a step away from the door. “Oh?” He presses. “Again? I thought you said that wasn’t going to work out?” His tone is low, curious, and there’s an edge to it you don’t quite understand.

“Did I say that?” You laugh loudly, trying to brush him off but cringing at yourself in the process. “See, that’s how drunk I was!”

You’re truly unstoppable this morning.

“Oh,” is all he says in reply, another pause before he’s clearing his throat. “O-kay. I didn’t realise… We can speak tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” you dismiss, desperate for him to go. The atmosphere has turned awkward now, and you really can’t think of a time when things have ever been this forced between you both… Does he know you’re lying…?

“___,” he calls your name again, and you want nothing more than to open the door and let him inside. You want to tell him how you’re feeling, but you’re scared because you can’t even make sense of it all yourself… Instead, you hum a response, and wait for what he has to say.

“Are you sure about this? About him?”

It’s your turn to stay silent now, it lingers around you until it closes in and begins to suffocate you, begging you to say the truth, but instead, you carry on lying…lying to the man you like just to save face.

“It’s just a few dates,” you insist, needing him to go away. “See you tonight—maybe tomorrow if tonight is the lucky night.”

You hate yourself at that exact moment in time. Why are you such a fool? However, it seems to do the trick and before you know it, he’s tapping the door in so long and walking off, you can hear his footsteps until they’re gone and he’s out the house, probably gone to work…

You don’t even let yourself think, grabbing your phone immediately off your dresser to pull up Namjoon’s name. You need to make this thing work. Moving on and forgetting about Seokjin is the only thing you can do if you want to carry on being his friend and roommate. Maybe if you truly give Namjoon a chance it would be that much easier…

You read over your message ten or more times before hitting send, the words embedded in your brain. How about that rain check tonight?

Namjoon agrees, of course he does, and you go around his. He orders take out and you talk a little, he shows you his photo album from the time he went backpacking in Europe, and you have fun—for the most part. You enjoy his company and you get along with him well, but you physically for the life of you, can’t stop thinking about Seokjin. Namjoon is great if you wanted a friend, but he’s not the one you want in other ways.

This was a mistake and you should’ve just gone home after work to see Jin, to speak to him. Instead, you’re just making this worse. Trying to sort your problems out, but in the end just making new ones… If you sleep with Namjoon now, it’s only going to get worse. Your feelings for Seokjin aren’t going to go away and you’re not going to miraculously fall in love with Namjoon either. You need to be open and honest, with not only both men, but with yourself…

You need to tell Seokjin how you feel, even if he doesn’t feel the same. Your head’s such a mess you don’t even know how to express yourself, or you don’t know how you really feel. You need to tell him so you can make more sense if it all. You can’t keep hiding it, and you can’t keep stringing Namjoon along. It isn’t fair. You need to sort everything out, and you need to take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you tell Namjoon, who’s already guessed something’s up. “This is a mistake.”

You

— are you home now? I want to speak

Seokjin

— I am and ok — is everything ok?

You’re texting Seokjin while in traffic, needing to know if he’s home, because if you don’t tell him how you’re feeling right this instant, you never will. You can’t even bring yourself to reply back because you know there’s nothing you can say via text. You need to do this all in person, and when you fly through the door he’s in front of you, looking just as panicked as you had been this morning.

“Is everything okay?” He demands, stepping back to let you shake off your coat.

“I think so,” you reply quietly, unsure of how to start what you so badly want to say.

“You think so?” He repeats, raising an eyebrow, looking cautious.

“I ended things with Namjoon,” you tell him, just to shrug and add, “if you can class them as started anyway.”

“Oh, did you?” He’s surprised, you can tell by the way his eyes bulge open. “I thought what you said last night wasn’t true?”

You take a deep breath, knowing that this is it. There’s no going back after you explain all this. You have to tell him, if it’s not just to keep yourself a little sane.

“I lied.”

Silence falls between you both as Jin crinkles his forehead, only confusion on his expression now. You swallow and carry on, hands trembling a little.

“It was true, I just panicked because I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” He questions, looking at you in disbelief.

“Scared of telling you the truth.” You’re aware this exchange is extremely wooden and slow but you’re glad he has the patience to talk you through everything, because if he didn’t you would’ve already bolted and ran away like a big baby.

“What’s the truth?” He pries slowly, although by the way he’s acting you think he already knows…

“The truth is…I didn’t want us to stop last night, not really. I wouldn’t have regretted it in the morning, I was just scared you wouldn’t feel the same.”

“I wouldn’t have regretted it,” he shakes his head, adamant, surprising you for a moment. “I thought I made that clear.”

“You did…but…”

“But?” He presses, an eyebrow cocked.

You swallow, plucking up all your remaining courage before you ask the damning question. “Is it just sex for you?”

You haven’t realised it, but he’s moved closer again, you’re practically inches apart and you can’t take your eyes off him, wide and curious, because he holds the answer you so badly need. But of course, it’s Seokjin and he can’t seem to answer like a normal person, a quality that you adore dearly, but not at a time like this...

“Is it just sex for you?”

“I asked you first,” you let out a frustrated chuckle, your heart stuck somewhere between frozen scared and buzzing with some kind of misplaced excitement, because his reaction isn’t what you were expecting. You were expecting him to tell you that yes, yes, indeed it is just about sex, but right now, right in front of you, he’s shaking his head.

“It isn’t,” he insists, taking a deep breath and you swear his voice is quivering when he speaks again, but you can’t be too sure because your mind is a mess, ears ringing because you can’t believe what you’ve just heard.

“I like you, ___. I like you a lot.”

It’s like a melody you never want to stop listening to and you’re in shock, body rigid as you regard him with perplexity. He likes you too? It’s too hard to understand, incomprehensible… All this time he’s liked you too?

“Okay, you being silent right now is freaking me out a little,” he lets out, a forced chuckle leaving him as he eyes you warily.

“Since when?” You burst, unable to hold it in any longer. You need to know. Has it been since you slept together, because you can’t handle it if he’s just confused sex for feelings… It would kill you.

“Since when have you liked me?”

“For a while,” he admits slowly, looking mildly uncomfortable as he fidgets on his feet, and you freeze. “Since you moved in probably. I mean, I thought you were really pretty so I wanted you as a roommate—that’s kind of a jerk move, but then I got to know your personality and I fell harder, I guess,” he shrugs as you listen on in awe. “But I was also trying to repress the feelings because I figured it wasn’t meant to be…you never showed an interest in me—well, until the night we had sex…”

“I’m sorry,” you apologise, suddenly feeling terrifically guilty. “I would’ve never asked if I knew you liked me. You were really good at hiding it, do you know that?”

You didn’t want it to seem like you were taking advantage of him back then. If you had known for one second he liked you, you would’ve never asked him! You can’t believe all this time he has liked you and you never realised. It’s crazy. Are you really that oblivious or is he the master of disguise?

“It’s okay,” he smiles that lopsided smile, fingers reaching out to caress the back of your hand. “I jumped at the chance, which was also kind of a jerk move.”

“It wasn’t,” you tell him. “I’m glad we had sex because it showed me how much I like you too.”

“Are you sure about that?” He asks, face suddenly serious, and you don’t blame him. He needs to be cautious, he needs to be sure. “You like me? Or you just liked the sex? Because I wouldn’t blame you, sex can mess with people’s heads, that’s why I feel bad.”

He’s so sweet, so mindful of people, even when he doesn’t have to be, even when his own feelings are at stake. How has this man been right in front of you this whole time and you didn’t realise?! Were you blind? Or maybe you just thought a person like you didn’t deserve a person like him…

“I’m sure,” you smile, latching onto his fingers, holding him to you, and he looks down at them, grinning when he sees the sight. “Last night I stopped because I was scared you didn’t feel the same and just wanted to sleep with me.”

“That’s not the case, trust me,” he shakes his head, eyes back to yours, boring into them, before thinking of something. “—Actually, remember that argument I told you about, with Yoongi?” You nod in reply, curious. “It was to do with you. He was trying to make me get over you by hooking me up with a girl—like he always does and it always fucking fails,” he laughs, sounding frustrated.

It suddenly dawns on you that you’ve never seen Jin with a girlfriend since living with him, nor a girl that he’s gone on more than a couple dates with… Is that because of you? Because he liked you all this time? You feel mild guilt and regret.

“He really was mad when he heard we slept together, said I was going to get hurt—am real glad I don’t have to tell him about last night…” he chuckles, a glint in his eye when they catch yours and you smile, remembering last night. “Why are you smiling?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, suddenly shy. “It’s just I really thought you liked another girl last night.”

“It’s you,” he confesses, expression serious, and this time he links all your fingers in his until you’re holding hands perfectly. “Just you. It has been for a while.”

His admission makes you speechless and all you can do is look down at your hands together, smiling fondly, you’re almost moved to tears.

“I’m sorry it took me a while to figure that out too,” you whisper, looking up at him through wisps of hair that have fallen over your face.

“Well, you know it now, right?” He smiles, teasing you almost, and you nod quickly. “That’s more than enough for me.” He says, delicately pushing the hair out of your eyes and behind your ear with his other hand and you fall into his touch, bodies practically touching now. You’re sharing a moment, a connection you feel so strong your heart is swelling inside your chest, and you admire the way his irises flash and dance before you, before he’s laughing, a sound you will never get sick of. The moment can’t be ruined it seems, until—

“The power of my dick is strong!” He celebrates.

“Seokjin!” You scold, pushing him by the shoulder, appalled by his amusement.

“There it is again,” he beams, not giving up as he moves back to you and wraps his arms around your waist. “You berating me, it’s cute! You’re cute!”

You fall into place, wrapping you hands around his neck, letting his warmth embrace you as you blush, heart beating happily in your chest. “What happens now?” You ask.

“I take you out on a date,” he hums, rubbing his noses against yours lovingly. The motion is so sweet it catches you off guard and you gasp silently, eyes falling to his parted mouth. You want to kiss him again. You’ll never get enough.

“How many until our first kiss?” You wonder, a teasing smile spread across your face.

He considers it animatedly, umming and ahing dramatically. “Well, technically we’ve already had that, so zero.” He decides finally, unable to hide his massive grin.

“That’s fine by me,” you celebrate, already closing the distance, and finally, all is well…

#jin smut #bts smut #seokjin smut #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #bts scenarios #jin scenarios #floralseokjin:writings #fic:dimple

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