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writingcold · 9 months

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Hi there! Welcome to Chapter 6! If you’ve just joined us, here’s the master list.

This chapter is a little different. Although we see all of our characters, this chapter is all from Croa’s POV.

As always, a thank you goes out to @lvnterninthenight @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake for your help in this process.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine. Please do not take it for your own personal use. I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story. But it is mine.

Content warning: Fluff. That’s all I’m going to say because I need to just get this going… Cue your butterflies, though. Yeah. One of those Mr. Jacob chapters.

Word count: Approx. 6500 please pardon any errors.

Chapter Six: Dancehalls, Visiting, Drives, Cora POV

Three weeks of the permanent posting and Cora felt like she had finally reached a point where she understood the full workings of both the mercantile area and the general good sections of the shop. Renee had taken the time to give her small bits to improve and together they seemed to have found a rhythm that worked out better for the both of them. She was also finally breaking through the ice with her counterpart, finding ways to actually engage with Renee in areas outside of the business.

Her interactions with Jacob had become sparse. He seemed to be absent for days, typically with Daniel. She had been to supper with Samuel, Susannah and Molly where they did not make much mention of the two men at all. When Cora did see him, it was brief with only a shared smile.

Without Junie in the cottage, Cora had assumed all of her sister's chores that Matthew could not do during the day. It extended her evening considerably to the point her mother expressed for her to quit the shop to care for Georgie and the house chores. Cora scoffed at the notion, saying that would never happen, ensuring another argument that lasted a few days in the end.

Junie had become a ghost. Cora would inquire Mr. Archer about her on Sundays, to which he would say one of the children was ill and she remained home to care for them. She tried to walk to the banker’s home after shop close, but was told that Mr. and Mrs. Archer were unavailable, even for family. The loss she felt for her sister was difficult, leaving her to feel bruised.

Friday found her sweeping the floors while Renee dusted the front displays when Mr. Kiszka strolled out to close the register. His face seemed troubled and he did not speak as normal. Renee was first to put away her apron and voice her leave. Cora hung up her apron after she finished watching as he walked back to his office. It was like the man was in a fog of thought.

Walking from the shop, she debated trying to drop in on Junie once more or just to head for home. Home would mean more work and probably another argument with her mother over her being in town. She decided her heart could not handle the rejection from Junie’s home again. Turning the corner, Samuel and Daniel were waiting, erasing all tracks of her internal debate.

“Hello, doll,” Sam greeted, his hat tipped way back on his head to allow a curtain of hair to fall against the side of his face.

“Hi, fellas,” she said, looking around to see if the ladies were with them. “Where are your better halves?”

Daniel smiled wide. “Actually, we have an invitation for you from them. They would like you to join us for supper and dancing tomorrow night.”

She felt the corners of her mouth turn down. “I don’t know. Supper sounds lovely, but I have nothing to wear for dancing…”

“Molly’s already got something waiting for you,” Daniel cooed, his smile huge.

“But it’ll be late - I can’t ask that you drive all the way out -”

“Nope - Susannah has a spare room for you to stay in,” Samuel said, matching the other man’s grin.

“Oh, and you can walk to church with us and be with your family for services,” Daniel finished with a satisfied nod.

“Did Molly give you a script to follow?” Cora asked with a huff.

“Maybe,” Samuel said, a look of relief in his face. “Come on, Cora. Let us take you out - really out.”

“I - uh-” she shuffled a bit, but the idea of dancing with the new friends made her heart trip a few times. “It sounds like fun.”

Saturday morning at the shop opening, Mr. Kiszka was still heavy with thought. She took a moment to realize that it was a concern that was troubling his dark eyes. Cora returned the smile as he moved wordlessly to his office. The day was a fast one. She could scarcely take a moment to realize that the lunch break and the afternoon had skated by when the boss strolled back out of the office, the same distance etched in his eyes.

Cora wondered if there was a correlation between Mr. Kiszka’s muted tone and Jacob’s absence for the previous four days. She took her wages with a nod and watched as he closed up the register.

“I hear that you are out on the night with Samuel, Daniel and the girls,” he said as she reached for her personal items.

She grinned. “I aim to break toes, sir.”

After a pause, his eyes drifted closed. The air began to fill with a belly laugh that she was sure he needed. “Be sure to have fun doing just that, lovely. Good evening.”

She held onto Daniel’s arm as they walked to the diner to sup. Susannah and Molly were already there, ordered and waiting. Their table was the loudest in the joint, but Cora could feel the excitement for the dancehall prickling under her skin. The heat of the happiness that touched her spread across her frame and discarded the eldest brother’s brooding of the past days. After supper, they strolled across the town, parting so that the ladies could retreat to dress for an evening of dancing.

The dress was a rich rose color with sheer cap sleeves and a tulle fringe at the end of the skirt that was fluffy, but held the same polka-dot print as the soft fabric that crossed her chest. The torso was decorated with embroidered streams of roses and scrolled stem design on that same sheer layered tulle fabric that provided a solid effect, rather than the see through on the sleeves. Cora stepped out of Molly’s room feeling like she was going to throw up from the frivolous and much more fancy feel of anything she had ever worn before. She felt antsy as she planted her eyes on the floor, nervous that this dress would be too much for her.

She was met with soft gasps and coos and the feel of Susannah and Molly’s hands on her wrists. Cora looked up, knowing that her cheeks were probably the same color that currently resided in the garment.

“Oh baby girl,” Molly sighed, eyes tracing across the lines of the dress. “It’s like this one was made just for you.”

Susannah was biting her lip to contain her smile a bit. “May I do your hair? I have something I want to try.”

“I wish I could cut it,” Cora admitted as she let herself be guided to a chair. “I love the way Molly’s hair curls on her neck.”

“Although that would be something on you,” Molly started, her hand instantly against the finger waves on her neck, “There’s something to be said about… Holy crow - how long is that hair, doll!”

Cora blushed as the ends of her hair brushed against her bottom in soft waves. Susannah disappeared only to return with an armful of stuff that made Cora feel a bit nervous. “Josephine Baker uses this herself. I saw her down in Chicago one time. Lord, that mama is beautiful.”

Tugging, pulling, stretching, smoothing, it seemed like it was an hour that Susannah took twisting and manipulating Cora’s locks into place. When finished, she had a shine and waves against her scalp on the top, while her thick braids were coiled back and forth and around each other in an intricate, flat bun with about a thousand pins holding it in place. She looked in the mirror and had to put it down for a moment. When she looked back, she felt her mouth stretch in a broad grin.

“I look like one of those ladies in the picture show,” she said, in awe over Susannah’s work.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get outta here, kittens,” Susannah remarked, but Cora could see the twinge of satisfaction flash in the woman’s eyes. “The boys will be waiting.”

Molly offered her a soft, cream colored wrap that was strewn with roses to pull over her shoulders as they made for the door. They took their time, arm in arm, laughing about the evening and scaring Cora over what to expect. By the time they reached the street corner that would lead them to the dancehall, the three were giggling over who was going to have to survive mashed toes as Cora learned to dance.

Danny was outside waiting, his face full of light as he greeted the three fast friends. Cora was unsure of what to expect when she walked inside, holding tight to Susannah’s hand, but it certainly was not anything she was prepared for. The hall was long and thin with tables running the length of both walls. There was a small stage at the far end where a band was set up, its horns were just blaring while a man on the piano was nearly dancing across the bench he was sitting upon as he played. Beside the stage was a soda fountain that spanned the corner with stools for patrons to sit and wait for the soda jerks to bounce to their demands. The floor was all wide planks of rich dark woods and the walls were richly painted ochres, swirled with dark navy.

“Come on, baby girl,” Susannah crowed, taking her by the hand and leading her out while Molly took their purses to a table manned by Samuel.

Cora tried not to gasp as the woman grabbed hold of her hand and placed her own hand on the middle of her back. She listened to the instruction, eyes turned down so as to watch their feet as they moved. There was no notion of self-consciousness as Susannah guided her across the floor, around others who were enjoying themselves.

“It’s basically just walking together,” she explained. “And you can tell where I am leading you by the way I move my hand on your back, even though you are going backwards the entire time, I may turn you, shift you or even spin.”

Cora turned her eyes up to look directly into Susannah’s light blue eyes. She smiled as she pulled Cora in closer, and they started to move in an earnest foxtrot. They were giggling within a few minutes when Cora realized she had not, indeed, murdered her friend’s feet.

Molly appeared with an elegant tap on Susannah’s shoulder. “Time for a waltz,” she declared.

Cora gritted her teeth. “Molly, I’m not-”

“Come on, dolly. You’re foxtrot is all berries; time for something that will really make you the cat’s meow,” she cackled as she brought her hands up and around Cora’s shoulder and into her hand. “And it’s not like I’m trying to teach you any of those snappy jazz numbers. I like my feet just fine.

“This is just an easy 1-2-3, repeat but backwards,” her friend said, nodding for her to look down at their feet. “You shuffle, don’t lift your feet, and stay in line with my own toes.”

“How am I supposed…”

Molly continued to count the 1-2-3, but Cora felt the numbers in the music, matching it quite quickly. Her friend breathed a laugh as they began to move in earnest. It was more restrained, and required a little more grace than the foxtrot. The tone of the music was similar but felt tighter. She only misstepped a few times, each time yanking her foot back before she munched the woman’s toes.

“Just like the foxtrot, I can lead you by the way my hand presses against your back. I can make it more complex if I…”

She turned quickly, adding in a swirl that made both of their skirts flare out in a pretty way. Cora blushed as her friend wiggled her eyebrows at her and yanked her closer until she was flush against her. They turned and shuffled and turned and shuffled. The hall was getting busier. They laughed as Cora continued to struggle, but was slowly getting the dance.

Sam grew brave and they foxtrotted across the floor to a number that sent her heart just fluttering. His lanky frame was much more solid than she had imagined. He turned and shifted in a more complex manner than Susannah had, that left her imagining that the steadies would be beautiful as they moved together in harmony. Before she knew it, she was sitting at the table, sipping on tea watching the two couples move together through the crowd. Their faces were warmed with conversation and sweet secrets that they shared.

“Come on, baby,” a man said to her, holding his hand out. “Let me show you how to really dance.”

Looking into his sharp features Cora was hesitant to try her new skill with a stranger. “Thank you, but no.”

“Ah come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like that,” he pressed. She watched as he leaned down and tried to take her hand into his. “If you can dance with them two you can dance with a man.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked past him. Her friends had no idea what was going on at their table. They would not be able to assist her, not that Cora had any inclination on how to keep this man from forcing her out there. Instead, she took a deep breath in.

“Sir, I said no, thank you. I am happy to wait for my friends,” she said without looking at him again.

His hand locked around her wrist and started to tug. “And I said, if you’re good enough to dance with whores, you’re good enough to dance with me.”

He yanked on her arm, getting her to stand up. Cora yelped out, but yanked back trying to not allow him to pull her out any further.

“Pardon me,” Jacob’s smooth voice broke in, instantly capturing her attention, as well as the man’s. “I’d appreciate you taking your mitt off the lady.”

“Mr. Kiszka,” the man said with a nod. “Just lookin’ to dance this little one.”

“I believe the lady said no,” Jacob remarked, moving himself between Cora and the offending man. “She said she was waiting for her friends - that includes me. So, I’ll assume there will be no more confusion.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said as he was terribly antsy to get away.

Cora righted herself, smoothing her dress down as Jacob stood in front of her. He was wearing black pressed pants with a black suit coat, dark gray, paisley embossed vest and a stark white dress shirt with a black tie. His hair was styled back, allowing that subtle wave to shine in the lowlights of the dancehall. He turned to look at her, his eyes full of concern.

He appeared like he was about to speak, but his mouth did not produce words. His eyes wandered across her much in the same fashion that her own were taking him in. Jacob was handsome, but at that moment, he did not seem like he was part of the world. His hand reached out, looping his index finger with hers.

He tugged and began to walk backwards towards the open floor. Cora could not look away as he brought his hand up, folding it around hers in a firm hold. His other hand slid across her shoulder, landing in between her shoulder blades.

“I apologize ahead of time,” she whispered. “I’ve only just learned this.”

She slid her hand up his arm letting it come to rest on his bicep. He pulled her in until her frame kissed his own. She released a soft breath as he paused, looking directly into her eyes. Everything fell away. It was just Jacob and Cora and the music. She did not realize that they were moving across the floor. Her whole focus was on his eyes as they looked upon her steadily and his mouth as she hoped for a few words to soothe her mind. Instead, he brought his face closer, to the point where she could feel him breathing against the side of her cheek. She breathed him in, all tobacco and mahogany.

Cora felt as he slid his hand lower to fall just below her shoulder blades as if to bring her in even closer. “I almost thought that you were not real,” he whispered.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered back.

“I couldn’t see the pretty that you bring to me in my days,” he said, eyes on her mouth. “But then, it’s just this…”

He pulled her hand with his so as to drag a fingertip down her jaw line before returning it to form. His other hand ghosted down the shallow curve of her side, before once again it was also returned to form. Cora felt her breath escape her in a slow, torturous wave not to be returned to form until his eyes met hers once more.

“This is the beauty that you keep hidden,” he finished.

Her lips parted as she absorbed what was being said to her. “No one has spoken to me like that.”

His gaze fell to her mouth as his brows pinched with thought. She heard him inhale softly, cuing her own breath as he squeezed her against his body even closer.

“I've never been anyone's first... I'd like to be yours,” he finally said, lips nearly to her ear, the heat of him dancing on the delicate skin.

Cora felt her mind freeze at the man’s connotations and how the simple words made her heart burn within her chest. The rest of the night, she was held, turned, and danced by Jacob. His eyes were hypnotic while his hand on her back burned a hole in her dress. They spoke little and always in the polite end of the pool: how her family was, how Matthew would like to see the Earl again, and about his family that was still down south in the state and how he missed them. He asked about Junie and was dismayed that she had yet to see her sister since the wedding.

They left the dancehall after the crowd thinned considerably. The laughter they shared rang out in the night as they walked towards the garage. Jacob walked close to her, his finger lopped with her own like a tether. He held her back as the couples moved towards the Kissel.

“This is where I have to leave you,” he said with a nod. “Did you have fun tonight?”

She nodded as his face warmed in the moonlight. “Are you not coming with us?”

“I will be staying with Joshua,” Jacob said, looking back at the others.

“I did not realize he was-”

He grinned as he took her hand and leaned in to speak only to her against her ear. “I want you to stay with me tomorrow after church services. We planned on stopping in on the Archers,” he said, allowing her to process what he was saying.

Cora felt her stomach tighten. To be given the gift of seeing Junie made her catch her breath as he pressed his cheek to her own. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The narrow bed that she claimed in Susannah’s was hard but welcoming. Thoughts of the evening swirled through her brain, keeping her awake but draining her all the same time. The heat of Jacob against her body sent shivers through her mouth. She could still smell his skin, feel his touch against her body and it made her think of what more could be like with the man. How his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered to her made her blush. She tried to imagine what his kiss would feel like, taste like. It was the last of the night’s images she conjured as she drifted off into the darkness of her sleep.

In the morning, Cora was dressed in her church dress and making coffee when Samuel tapped on the door before walking in. His youthful face was lit with sunshine and his smile was contagious as he offered his arm and a walking partner to church services. Jacob and Joshua were already in the main hall while Daniel was waiting outside for them. Rosemary and the boys were sitting in their typical row. Cora waved at Georgie who beamed at her as Jacob moved towards her. His warmth invaded her skin despite the distance between them. She smiled in her greeting and was rewarded by him looping his index finger with hers with a little squeeze before following Josh and the others to his waiting seats.

Services were long. Pastor Butterman was spending an inordinate amount of time about the importance of community support of their young people - the support of young marriages. Blowing out her cheeks, she settled into another sermon that she largely ignored. After services, Jacob was the first to catch them before leaving.

“I will ensure that she returns home safe, Mrs. Janas,” Jacob was saying to her mother who was eyeing her skeptically. “My brothers and I will be making our Sunday rounds, the Archer household included.”

Cora was watching him as he spoke, his eyes nowhere but on her mother the entire time, his face a vision of calm. “I would be able to see Junie, Mama,” she said, drawing her attention away for a moment.

“You will have her home before dark, Mr. Kiszka,” Rosemary said with a firm tone.

“Yes, of course, ma’am,” Jacob said as he held his elbow out for Cora to take.

She smiled and waved at her brothers. Georgie broke away from Matthew and rushed at her. She heard Jacob let out a quiet laugh as she picked up the smallest of them and hugged her fiercely.

“Sister,” the little one sighed into her neck. “Come home.”

“Going to go see Junebug,” she said with a smile.

The boy’s big eyes filled with the heat of his smile. “I want to see her, too.”

“Soon, baby,” Cora soothed, rubbing on his back. “Go home with Mama and I’ll see you tonight.”

She set Georgie down and watched as the boy took off across the expanse to reach the Kilbourne wagon. Mr. Kilbourne looked at her holding onto Jacob with an ill eye.

“He really doesn’t…” he started, realizing that the man was not going to move from the bench of his cart to help her mother into the back.

Cora watched as he hurried forward before Rosemary could crawl into the wagon. Instead, he called out to Matthew to wait. She inhaled sharply as Jacob assisted her mother, followed by each of the siblings into the wagon to leave. He paused at the side, trading a word with the farmer that was obviously not kind. Cora swallowed as Kilbourne seemed to pale a bit before stoically snapping to reins.

The church was on the north east corner of town. They walked arm in arm, down the main thoroughfare towards the more affluent southwestern corner that the businessmen of the community had claimed. They passed the street that would lead them to the bungalows. Cora looked down the row of tidy homes. Jacob smiled at her.

“You like those little places, don’t you?” he asked simply, patting her hand on his elbow.

She nodded, but they moved on quickly. The first house they visited was their own. Mr. Kiszka walked inside the wide foyer without a glance behind. Cora felt very small standing on the stoop with Jacob before he led them inside the light maple clad space. Her entire cottage would fit within the entry and her face burned at the thought.

“This is…” she felt like even her voice was intrusive on the craftsmanship of the space. “This is lovely.”

“Just for show, Cora. It’s still eight squares shoved together, and boxes up on top,” Jacob said as he watched his twin return with a handful of papers. “Archer’s are first. Are you ready?”

She smiled and nodded as they moved out of the house and walked down the block. The homes grew a bit more modest but still very polished. They moved up the manicured walk of a tall white affair with black shutters and door that she had visited many times before only to be turned away. The breeze kicked up before they reached the front of the home, making the ruffles of her dress swish against her. The door opened wide, admitting all of them. Cora caught the lady’s eye who had turned her away many times before and she tightened her hold on Jacob’s elbow. He made no acknowledgment of the change, but he remained close to her as they moved through to the room just off the wood and plaster clad foyer with a simple staircase that rose up in a sway to the second story.

“Miss,” the housekeeper said politely as the gentlemen seemed to be in residence in the main parlor. “Please, come with me.”

Jacob smiled at her with a whispered ‘see you soon’. Nervously, she followed down the wood paneled hall towards the back of the house. She could hear a few feminine voices speaking softly, but not her Junie. The housekeeper’s dour face turned on her before pointing her open hand towards another parlor. There were three well dressed ladies she had recognized from church, but could not recall their names. Junie sat nearly in the corner, her face forlorn.

“Junie?” Cora called softly, moving towards her in quick steps.

The girl’s once bright eyes rolled up onto her in surprise. Her face seemed to have aged considerably in the weeks after the wedding. Her smile was not as wide and her gaze was guarded as she gained her footing.

“Is it really you?” Junie asked as Cora dragged her close in a tight hug. “Sister?”

She felt an uncomfortable shift as the ladies stopped talking. Cora looked into her sister’s tired face, trying to figure out what had happened to her that would make her seem so tattered.

“Ladies, I do not wish to be rude, but you will excuse us,” Junie remarked, taking Cora by the hand and leading her out of the room and down the rear hall to the garden.

Cora wrapped her arm around her sister as they stood side by side with their backs to the house.

“I am so glad you are here,” Junie whispered.

“I have missed you terribly,” Cora said, unable to keep her smile growing huge. “The boys ask about you everyday.”

They slowly returned to the point before the wedding, talking back and forth, finding the smiles and the lightness that both missed. Cora was telling her about Georgie’s plan of bringing her back to the cottage. She felt herself choking on the laugh as Junie impersonated the boy’s big eyes and hands on her face.

“I never thought that I would miss that boy like I do,” Junie remarked, moving closer to the row of hedges. “And what about Mr. Jacob?”

Cora grinned. “He’s the reason I am here today. We danced the whole night last night and then he told Mama he wanted me to go visiting with him today.”

“Next he’ll be asking her to date you, I’m sure,” she said, eyes straying to the windows behind Cora.

She saw how her sister’s shoulders slumped a bit. Looking behind, she saw Mr. Archer and Jacob standing at the open glass doors. Junie took her hand into her own and pulled her close.

“I love you, Sister,” she whispered, holding on tightly as the door opened.

“I love you, Junebug,” Cora whispered back, noting that the girl’s body was literally trembling. “I promise, I will come see you during the week as long as the housekeeper will allow me inside.”

Mr. Archer’s smile was condescending. “I apologize, Miss Cora, if there has been confusion. I was not aware that you had tried to visit.”

“It’s only been a few times, sir,” she said, noting that his eyes would not meet her gaze, just like he would not truly look at Junie either.

“It will not happen again, be assured,” he remarked with a nod.

“Cora, are you ready?” Jacob asked, offering his elbow.

He held her hand in place as they moved back through the house to the front door. The brothers had already moved on. Jacob turned back towards the shop.

“I have been given a reprieve from visiting with Joshua,” he said with a grin. “Would you like to go for a drive with me?”

“I would like that very much,” she answered. “Thank you for helping me to see Junie.”

“My pleasure,” he said as they walked back towards the garage. “Is she well?”

“Junie was always sickly from little on,” Cora said, her eyes straying behind them back to the Archer home. “I never thought I would see her actually look in such a terribly frail fashion.”

“Perhaps it is just the newness of her marriage,” Jacob offered kindly.

“Perhaps.”

He walked her towards the Kissel, not the Earl. She paused and he smiled shyly.

“Samuel is working on the Earl and I’m not allowed to touch her at the moment,” he said as he opened the door for her.

It felt strange sitting in the front, but as he slid behind the wheel, it was hypnotic to watch as he shifted the vehicle and moved it along. They headed east out of town. His face was relaxed as he drove. Cora turned her face towards the wind as it kissed at her cheeks and colored her lips. He reached across the seat, looping his pinky in with hers. She glanced down at the touch, something that he had repeated through her memory. Such a simple touch. A simple conveyance. She closed her eyes to better feel the grounding effect that it had on her.

They drove through winding fields and dense woods that she was sure they would certainly be lost in. He plowed forward, his eyes ever steady on the road. They continued on for nearly an hour. Cora felt drowsy. Looking at him, she found that Jacob was looking back at her.

Another fifteen minutes, they arrived in the city of Norway. Cora had only heard of the town, having never been further than Kingsford. They stopped at a little cafe that had coffee and sandwiches. He pulled the chair out for her as she sat. Jacob took off his hat and set to the side as they waited.

“Tell me about what happened to your father,” he said as they sipped their drinks.

She smiled sadly. “Papa liked to think of himself as a gentleman farmer. His family settled in New York. Up by Albany. He was an educated man. He even taught college for a spell.”

Jacob set his cup down with a nod. “What made him leave New York?”

“Not sure,” she answered, her eyes watching the plates as the waitress lowered them to the table. Jacob said a quiet thank you before turning his attention back to her. “He liked open spaces more than the classroom and city, I guess. He worked a farm in Pennsylvania before meeting Mother. They had me before getting the place in Breitung Township - now it’s Kingsford.”

“Your family has a farm here?”

She took a small bite of the tomato and cucumber sandwich. Her heart sank as she negotiated through the rest of the story. She explained that half of Mr. Kilbourne’s current farm, including the pretty white house they lived near, was actually the Janas farm. They were doing very well with hay and potatoes. When her father returned from the war in 1919, he was different. His mind was different. Physically he was different. The family began to struggle and he wound up borrowing from Mr. Kilbourne as the bank would not secure him a loan. After the Ford plant was built, the bank had gotten picky about loans to farmers. There were a few bad harvests that really made things a bigger struggle for the family as a whole.

“My father never really returned,” she said quietly. “He tried. Mama said he died of being broken over there. He had injuries in his lungs from something that working in the earth made worse.”

Jacob reached across the table and touched her hand, running his fingertips over the back before squeezing it as a whole.

“Mr. Kilbourne took the house as partial payment of the debt my father incurred, as well as all the land,” Cora continued, staring at a spot on the table. “Mother made arrangements for the two of us to work as laborers to finish off the debt. We moved into the cottage and have been there ever since.”

A soft curse escaped his mouth. “How long until the debt is paid?”

“Well, if I had not gotten that posting in your family’s shop, it would have been about two more years. But,” she said, straightening up and feeling proud, “I’ll have it cleared before the end of autumn, certainly before mid-winter. And I’m hoping that we can move into town after that.”

“One of those little bungalows, huh?” he asked with a smile.

She nodded. “I’d just be happy with a house that didn’t want to kill us every time the weather turned.”

He grinned at her from across the table. They finished their simple meals. Cora liked how close he walked as they moved back towards the car. When he opened the door, he paused, catching her hand fully with his own. Cora’s mouth twitched in a smile as his expression changed. His eyes traced across hers. He leaned close, the tip of his nose grazing her cheek.

“I’d very much like to kiss your mouth, Cora,” he whispered.

Her lips parted as her breath escaped her. His gaze softened as his finger traced down her jaw. She barely nodded, her nerves stabbing in her torso like lightning. He skimmed his lips across hers before cupping her cheek and pressing their mouths together. Panic gripped her as she breathed him in. Never. Never had a man kissed her mouth. Never had a man drawn her bottom lip in between his own lips. Her heart was thundering as he opened his eyes while still so close to her as if looking through her soul. She shivered as he withdrew, only to watch as he leaned in once more. He pressed against her again, his hand dragging down and back on her neck pulling her impossibly closer. The heat of his body flooded her. Her mind raced. Her hands moved across his arms and finally landed on his chest, her fingers finding purchase on the lapels of his coat. A little hum escaped him as he pulled her bottom lip deeper into his mouth. She felt the tip of his tongue swipe over it. Her body wanted more. Her brain was melting against the stimulation. He broke their contact only to press once more, this time, repeating with her upper lip, slotting their mouths together sweetly.

Cora felt her stomach flutter as he withdrew. His eyes looked smoky as a grin tugged the corner of his mouth. He held her hand as he aided her into the car. Her mind felt like it was drenched in fog. The emotions toiled within, knowing that there was more she wanted but had no idea how to voice those words to him. She liked it. She liked the way he kissed her. She liked the slow, soft heat of his mouth. Cora felt her cheeks warm with the thought of it, but did not hide that she was indeed pleased.

The ride back towards Kingsford did not follow the same path as the one they had taken. Instead, it was through mostly woods and rolling hills. Cora was taken by the green and lush beauty. They reached a spot that was at a crest that Jacob pulled off, but made no move to exit the automobile. He drew in a heavy breath as his eyes focused on the horizon.

“It’s really something during the autumn,” he said quietly. “I come up here to think. Or when I need the escape.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cora said, pushing the door open and sliding from the seat before he could make a move.

The crunch of stones under her shoes made her smile. The wind was strong, but it carried the deep woods smell on it in the most delicious manner. She liked the feel of it against her body, blowing her skirt back out behind her. She pictured herself looking much like a full sail on the ships out on Lake Superior. Her hands left her sides as if she could give herself over to the wind. A hard gust struck her, knocking her back into Jacob. His hands caught around her waist pulling her frame tight against his own. A laugh escaped her as he anchored her to the ground.

“I’m afraid if I let you go. You’ll fly away,” he said, making her laugh all the more. “You’re like one of those finches down there. All beautiful and full of light.”

She grinned at his strength and how he held her - not constraining but supporting. Her eyes traveled down the ravine and found the yellow finches that seemed to be dancing on the wind, singing their own song of wonder. Trusting that he would not move, she leaned back against him and was rewarded with his arms looping fully around her middle.

“I better get you home,” he whispered against her ear. “I don’t want your mama angry with me.”

He took her hand, leading her back to the car. “Why worry about her?” “If I want to ask her to court you, I don’t want to give her any reason for her to say no,” he answered with an honest smile.

“Court me? How very old fashioned of you, Jacob. Can’t we just go out on dates?” she teased as she climbed back into the Kissel.

“I need to do this right, Finch,” he said quietly, touching her cheek before closing the door.

Her heart stuttered at his touch. The notion that he was already formulating a softly traditional path made her blush with romantic notions that she and Junie would fawn over months earlier. Jacob lit a smoke before sliding behind the wheel. He smiled with a ‘let’s get you home’. Once through the gears, he looped his fingers through hers, tugging her closer on the seat. The thoughts from weeks before returned: if given the choice of path to take, she would pick Jacob. She looked over at him just as he glanced at her. The way her cheeks heated, she knew her thoughts were her truth. She would pick him without doubt, without hesitance.

Pardon my sappy smile. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We’re starting to get into the meat of the story. Next time, we’ll be reunited with Molly and Susannah. Last week I was able to pull off two chapters - what do you think - should I try to keep that up? Let me know in the comments! Thanks

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kimvvantae · 2 years

Text

gravity ▸ knj (m)

➜ 5 months after the breakup, you're still gravitating around each other, no matter how hard you try not to. the only way to finally free yourselves from this pull is to let your orbits collide one last time.

pairing: namjoon x (f) reader

genre: smut, angst • exes au, porn with plot

warnings: infidelity. explicit sexual content (rough sex, oral (m receiving, throat fucking), fingering, spitting, hair pulling, ass slapping, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, nj has a gigantic d). alcohol consumption. smoking. brief mentions of vomiting. let me repeat: INFIDELITY, do not read if this type of content makes you uncomfortable!. basically sad porn

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

word count: 11k

A/N: this is a work of fiction, i do not glorify the actions of the characters. other than that, please feast some sad porn! special thanks to my brother abel tesfaye for inspiring me into writing this mess. as usual, feedback is MUCH MUCH appreciated!

➜ MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST | FEEDBACK

It’s ridiculous that Namjoon immediately spotted you as soon as you walked in.

It happened again. He thought he was over it already - over you. The magnetism. There’s no other word to describe the phenomenon that happens whenever you are around. Like a tiny, stupid planet being attracted to a heavy gravitational spot… a star. You. Indeed, the brightest star in this crowded room, so crowded that it’s almost impossible to cross it without bumping into someone.

It’s like a sick joke. Why did he have to notice you so quickly? Why suddenly, as soon as he laid his eyes on you, everything else seemed pale and uninteresting in comparison? The loud music isn’t as exciting anymore, nor the chat he was having with his friends a mere second ago. The beer he just swallowed suddenly tastes like iron as it slides down his throat. Everything and everyone becomes distant - only noises in the back of his head, only blurred faces.

Except you.

He can see you in detail.

The tight, short black dress. So tight. It enhances every curve of your body. Namjoon doesn’t recognize this dress, which means you bought it after the break up. He loves it - the sight makes him hold the bottle of beer a little tighter. You wear a leather jacket over it, though, to protect you from the chilly night out there, which makes him a little disappointed - he’d like to see your figure in the dress, in all its glory, without anything to hide it.

The hairstyle and perfect makeup… Namjoon just knows you took hours to look as good as you look right now - although, in his opinion, you look just as incredible without any of it. He remembers all the times you went out together, you texting him that you were “almost done” when in fact you hadn’t even showered yet - which sometimes annoyed him, but the final result was always worth the wait, and he always made sure to show how he appreciated your efforts afterwards. He can almost see you in front of the bathroom mirror, angrily searching for the foundation bottle you lost again, until you’d ask if he’d just watch and laugh or would help you find it.

How many memories can flood his mind in such short seconds?

It’s been five months. Five months without seeing you. No hearing the sound of your laughter, no texts, no dates, no touching or tasting you. Five months of not seeing each other after three years of seeing each other almost every day.

When you took the decision to break up, his most optimistic friends - and his family - called it freedom. Namjoon, however, faced it as punishment. Torture. It was painful to live away from you. The endless fights seemed meaningless in comparison. No… deep down, Namjoon knows he's lying to himself. He misses the fights. Like a drug addict in abstinence, he can’t help but miss the things that harmed him.

You were a drug. You made him high. For three years, he was intoxicated by your face, your body, your voice; your fun side, your focused side, your caring side, your intelligent side. Your awful side. The unjustified jealousy. The bad temper. The disagreements and arguments. The sex. God - no one else made him feel that way. It’s like you memorized his body like a map; you knew exactly what to do, where to touch. One look from across the room was enough to make his body get a fever. The fun sex when you were on your better weeks and the angry sex when you were on your worst ones.

At some point, the awful side became much more apparent than all the others in his point of view. And yet, he carried on with this relationship as much as he could, because he was addicted - he needed the adrenaline and bliss to stay alive. Until it got unsustainable. Until you finally decided to let go.

And, as soon as you gave the final word, Namjoon realized he’s a masochist. No sane person would miss a relationship so broken like that; not when the fights became much more frequent than any happy moment. But he couldn’t help missing you badly. Even though he did every possible effort to avoid meeting you, even though he blocked you on every social media - it didn’t work. Going on dates with other girls didn’t work. Not to say they weren’t pretty enough, interesting enough or that the sex wasn’t good enough… but they weren’t you.

Namjoon is just a stupid, tiny planet, stuck in your gravitational orbit. He is reminded of this fact the moment he sees you. He was never healed from you. He never detoxified from you.

You, on the other hand, seem to be doing much better than him.

One second after stepping in, he walks in too, fingers intertwined with yours.

Namjoon heard the rumors from common friends. He brushed it off with faked disinterest, but he was too weak to not care. Unblocking your Instagram profile for the first time in months was enough. He saw the picture.

Mark. He knows this guy. An easy-going, extroverted type of guy. Apparently a good person.

By all accounts - considering how his life felt like literal hell at some point while you were together -, Namjoon should hope you found someone that would make you feel as bad as you made him feel. Yes, he could be vengeful like that. Or… he still has feelings for you, that’s undeniable - so, from this standpoint, he should hope Mark was a good guy to you, hope he would treat you right… how could he wish something bad upon someone he cared for?

Wait.

No.

Namjoon shouldn’t care for whoever his ex was dating at all. It shouldn’t affect him anymore.

But it does.

The sight of this Mark guy holding your hand and smiling at you - and you smiling back - irks him up. The realization that you spent hours getting ready for him irks him. You look happy.

Namjoon is a damn addict. A pathetic junkie. A tiny, stupid planet orbiting around you.

Although he just got here, he knows he needs to leave. His night is over anyway. It’d be better if he managed to leave before you could notice him - like this, at least, he’d still have a little bit of dignity intact.

However - what Namjoon doesn’t know is that, despite appearances, this magnetism is a two way road.

Because you spot him almost immediately, too.

When your eyes meet his, the smile fails. You stand there, frozen, shocked, before Mark puts his hand on your waist, totally unaware of the situation.

You avoid Namjoon’s gaze and look back at your current boyfriend. Smile again. This smile is an act, though. Namjoon can read you like an open book.

Namjoon gulps.

He should probably leave.

But he won’t. He can’t. He knows it.

Your gravitational field forces him to stay.

He’s just a stupid little planet, after all. How could he fight against the pull of a star?

Babe, I want to leave.

It’s what you want to say as soon as you see Namjoon sitting there. You want to grab Mark’s hand and walk away. But fuck - how can you, when this is Mark’s best friend’s party? He’s been talking about it for days. You can’t ask him to leave, nor can you leave without him.

You don’t want to stay in the same place as him. No, no, no. Just no.

How could you know he’d be here? You've been avoiding him so carefully for the past five months. You always made sure that Namjoon wouldn’t be at the places you planned to go beforehand - especially parties like this one, because hell, Namjoon knows too many people. But you failed this time. You didn’t expect Namjoon to be here at all. It seemed that Mark and Namjoon didn’t have common friends, which was honestly a relief.

You were wrong, obviously.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You feel Mark’s hand on the small of your back as he introduces you to his friends, but your mind isn’t really here as you greet them, and you don’t feel butterflies in your stomach when Mark makes it clear you're his girlfriend. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. You were excited to meet his friends and to be called girlfriend. But all you can feel right now is a chilling cold inside your stomach - not in a good way.

He's literally right there, sitting a few meters away from you.

Shit.

Mark has a happy smile as he leans in, bringing his lips closer to your ear so he can be heard over the loud music: "Do you wanna drink anything, babe?"

No, you want to say. I want to leave. But it's the excited gleam in his eyes that holds you back.

"Yes." Before Mark can walk away on his own to bring you a drink, you grab his hand. "Let's take a drink."

There's no way you're leaving Mark's side with him around.

Not because you're afraid of Namjoon - he might have many flaws, but you never felt unsafe in the slightest around him. No… it's another problem.

You might not be strong enough to face him.

Not at all.

It seems that five months of distance weren't enough. You thought you'd be indifferent to his presence at this point; you thought you got over him. Fuck, you're literally holding your boyfriend's hand. Yet… the moment you noticed Namjoon's in the same room as you, it's like all of your senses went crazy.

You still feel his eyes on you. It's enough to make your cheeks burn. Three years of dating and it never changed - the way a single look of his could put you at ease, how he could make you nervous and giddy and excited. You always loved his look of approval. Namjoon made you feel wanted. That's why you never measured efforts to look as good as possible whenever he was around, even though he always complimented your beauty, with makeup and good clothes or not.

That's not fair.

Mark is talking about something with his friends, but you're not paying attention to anything anymore. The loud music resonates on your stomach and makes you feel nauseous. Fuck. Your night is ruined - and it didn't even begin yet.

You still feel his eyes on you. Shit, you shouldn't. But for the briefest moment, you lift your gaze to look at him again.

Shit shit shit shit.

His black hair is cut short in that way he knows you love. He's wearing the loose black leather jacket you helped him choose, and you realize in shock that your outfits are matching. He's sitting carelessly on the couch in a comfortable position, legs spread, as some guy you don't know is invested in telling him something you can't hear from this distance, but Namjoon is barely paying attention, his eyes focused on you instead. Though you hadn't exchanged a word, his single gaze - the way his eyebrows are softly knitted, his clenched jaw, the way he presses his tongue inside his cheek, how he tilts his head and runs his hand over his mouth for a moment - tell everything you need to know:

He's angry.

He checks your body up and down, and you shiver, even though it's hot inside this crowded house.

You know him too damn well.

This is also his look of I want you.

You gulp and immediately avoid his gaze again in a desperate attempt to pay attention to anything else.

But you know yourself very well, too. You know the way you unconsciously squeeze your thighs on one another, the way your breathing quickens and your heart races.

And you don't know if you're strong enough to resist his gravitational pull.

This is a disaster.

Not only because he is here, which single-handedly was able to bring your mood down. Your legs hurt. No amount of trying to engage in a conversation seems to excite you, your cheeks already hurt from holding that fake smile. The loud music and screaming and chatting only increases your annoyance (and your headache); you can’t even bring yourself to drink anything, having finished only two bottles of beer.

On top of all that - Mark is a lightweight.

You scowl, tapping his back lightly, as Mark throws up sitting on his knees in front of the toilet. The bathroom door is wide open to a crowded corridor; two of Mark’s friends, Chris and Jungwoo, stand in front of the door, watching him and laughing. Maybe if you weren’t in such a bad mood you’d be thinking this is kind of comical too, but right now, you have to control yourself to not roll your eyes.

He coughs and you fixate your eyes on a single tile on the wall (if you look too much at him, you’ll end up vomiting, too). You tap his back a little more strongly. “Put it all out, Mark. You’ll feel better.” You can’t even fake that reassuring tone anymore, sounding straight up annoyed instead.

Mark lifts his head to say something, but ends up coughing and then his face is inside the toilet again, as you just scowl.

“Come on, Mark. You’ll end up getting Y/N dirty.” Chris says in disapproval.

“I would be embarrassed if I were him.” Jungwoo says, tilting his head. “First time he brings his girl over… and look at his state.”

You look at them, forcing a lip-tightened smile. “I don’t mind, guys. He was just having fun… he’s been so stressed because of his finals.”

You do mind, actually.

Because you know Mark’s alcohol tolerance is ridiculously low. You asked him, over and over again, to slow down with his drinks. You weren’t trying to be the boring, controlling girlfriend - as a certain someone used to call you in the past -; you were just worried about him. Besides, babysitting a drunk grown ass man is anything but nice.

Yet - here you are, doing exactly so.

As if this night wasn’t awful already.

“Y-You see? That’s why I like her. She gets me.” Mark stutters, smiling at you. You didn’t think he was even listening.

Yeah, but you don’t get me, the evil side of your brain whispers.

The good side of your brain is quick to scold you: stop that. You said you would change, remember?

Yes. You’re trying to be better. Mark just didn’t pay attention to what he was doing, that’s all. He’s never done anything like this before, he just got a little excited.

It’s like your brain is programmed to want to pick up a fight. But that’s not happening with Mark, not today.

You put some toilet paper on his hand so he can clean his mouth. He’s clearly not even seeing you straight. It looks like he already threw out everything inside his stomach.

“Time to go home, then, hm?” You say.

“What? Go home, at this hour? No way.” Chris says, placing his beer bottle over the sink and walking over to Mark.

You frown. “Can’t you see his state? I’m taking him home so he can sleep.” You try.

“Don’t bother, Y/N. He can sleep in my room for a while, I’m not letting you drive home this late at night.” Chris reaffirms strongly. “Jungwoo, help me pick him up.”

Jungwoo enters the bathroom as well, while you get up on your feet again, doing your best not to scowl at them. “It’s alright, I can drive! I’m totally sober!” You try. You really are sober - it’d need much more than two beer bottles to knock you out.

“No, Mark would kill us if he knew that we let his girlfriend carry him around at night like that. Let us be hospitable, ‘kay?” Jungwoo says, sending a charming smile at you.

The two men help a babbling Mark get to his feet, carrying him out of the bathroom towards Chris’ room at the end of the corridor, and you follow them shortly. Thankfully, the second floor of the house is a little less crowded. Chris’ house is enormous, to be honest. You knew he had some money, but you weren’t expecting this. With some difficulty, they manage to get inside the bedroom and lay Mark on the bed.

“Here, idiot. Get some rest.” Jungwoo says, tapping Mark’s head playfully. He whines in protest. “Shit, he’s gonna be so embarrassed tomorrow…”

“You staying with him, Y/N?” Chris asks, already standing at the door.

You look at the pathetic - and cute - image of your boyfriend laid on the bed like that.

“Yeah.” You nod. “For a bit.”

“Meet us downstairs later, then.” Jungwoo says, leaving the bedroom too. “Don’t waste your night babysitting this fucker.”

If you didn’t know how close they are, you’d think he’s being rude, but both of them look at the younger and drunk male with affection. You nod, reassuring that you’ll definitely go downstairs, and they finally close the door, leaving you both alone.

You cross your arms.

Sure, they were trying to be “hospitable” - and yes, it was a nice gesture of them -, but fuck, they just destroyed your only chance of getting out of here.

You’re angrier now.

“Y/N…” Mark calls in a whiny voice that makes you roll your eyes.

You sit by his side on the bed. His eyes are barely even opened. “What?”

He somehow manages to open them, and a silly drunken smile appears on his lips. “You’re soooo pretty. The prettiest girl… I’ve ever seen. D-Did you know that?”

You can’t help but chuckle. It’s hard to get angry at Mark; you feel that he can get away with anything - a cute smile of his is enough to melt your heart in a second. You’ve been dating for a little over a month now, and it’s been a great month, to be honest. It’s been a while since someone made you feel butterflies in your stomach like that, made you smile just thinking of them. It’s like when you started dating Nam-

Shit.

You shake your head frantically, as if doing so will make the intrusive thoughts fly away. It’s ridiculous that you unconsciously end up comparing Mark to that certain someone. You’ve been trying your best not to. Mark is different - his personality is pretty much the opposite of that other person; he’s bubbly, funny, he makes you genuinely enjoy your time with him. It’s the first time you date someone a little bit younger than you, and you didn’t think it’d be this good. All your friends told you the same: you make a great couple. You look so happy with him. I’m so happy for you.

You like Mark.

You really do.

So why does your mind keep gravitating over Namjoon from time to time? Why does it keep comparing them?

You dated him for three years, you try to rationalize. It was a messy and long relationship. It’s just natural that you’d make comparisons now that you’re with a different person.

Yes. That must be it.

You pass your hands through Mark’s blonde hair and he smiles happily, closing his eyes. There’s blush all over his face. “You should really rest now.” You say quietly.

It seems that Mark is trying to say something - but his voice dies mid-snore.

A chuckle escapes through your lips again. He also falls asleep very fast.

You still stare at his sleeping form for a while.

Fuck.

You need to smoke.

You sigh heavily before getting up, careful to not make any noise as you walk out of the bedroom and close the door quietly. You’re immediately overwhelmed by the loud music coming from downstairs. You try to keep a fast pace as you walk out of the house, avoiding the people you know and rapidly greeting the ones you can’t avoid. When you finally manage to get out, you’re annoyed all over again. The cold nightly breeze makes you tighten the jacket around your body and regret coming with this short dress - it’s like your legs are about to freeze. Small steam clouds form in front of your face at each breath.

You angrily march towards your car, parked at least four houses down the street (both sides are fully parked with Chris’ guests’ cars, this was the closest spot you could find). The music and screaming becomes distant, which is honestly a relief. You open the door rather roughly, reaching for the glove box, to get the pack of cigarettes you keep “hidden” there. Hidden from yourself, more specifically. You’ve been promising to stop smoking for a few years now - and in an attempt to stop, you purposefully “hide” the packs in places that will be inconvenient for you (it was very inconvenient to have to walk out of the house just to smoke, when you could’ve kept in your purse). Of course, you should stop buying cigarettes for all, but… well, maybe later.

You take one cigarette from the pack and put it between your lips, impatiently groping for the lighter. But… it’s not in the glove box. You get up again, putting your purse over the car’s roof, searching for its contents. Lip gloss… your wallet… phone… you groan.

“Where the fuck is it?!” You stomp angrily as if it’ll be of any use.

Then, you catch something with the corner of your eye - and you immediately freeze.

Someone handing their lighter to you.

You look to your left side, finally realizing there was someone standing there all this time.

And it’s infuriating that your heart nearly stops.

Namjoon.

He’s not looking at you, eyes glued on his shoes instead, as he places a cigarette on his own lips with the other hand. You hate that your eyes are widened at the sight of him so close after five months. You hate that your first immediate thought is he looks so good, he’s dressed the way you like, as if he knew you’d be here. You hate that your heart is already racing at the mere proximity.

You take so long to move that Namjoon finally looks at you, quirking one eyebrow up. “Are you taking it or not?”

Shit. His voice. You missed it so bad.

“What are you doing here?” You also can’t help the defensive tone. Whenever he’s around, you immediately square up. Always ready to pick up a fight. “Are you following me?”

Namjoon chuckles in a mocking tone, shaking his head. “Following you? That’s literally my car. I’m not following anyone.”

You blink, stretching your neck to see better. It really is his car, parked in front of yours. How didn’t you notice when you arrived?

You gulp, avoiding his gaze for a moment.

Namjoon clicks his tongue, calling your attention. His arm is still extended, lighter in hand.

You shouldn’t. Don’t do it. Deny it.

Hesitantly, you take it from his hand. Your cold fingers brush against his warm ones. You shiver.

Fuck!

You light up your cigarette, inhaling it deeply, before putting it back in his hand. Namjoon also lights his up and exhales smoke from his nose.

Silence.

You can almost see the tension in the air around you.

“Thought you were trying to stop smoking.” He says quietly after a while. Both of his hands in the pockets of the jacket, he still looks down with his eyebrows knitted in a serious - slightly annoyed - expression. You hate yourself for admiring his side profile like that. You shouldn’t even be breathing the same air as him, let alone admire him.

“I am.” Your voice is also quiet. Namjoon chuckles.

More silence.

There’s some yelling at Chris’ house. Both of you look in that direction at the same time. It doesn’t sound like a fight, so your eyes focus on the car roof again. You hold the cigarette between your pointer and middle finger, exhaling smoke.

“I didn’t know you’re Chris’ friend.” You say. Why are you even trying to make small talk?

“He’s not exactly a friend. We had some classes together during college.” He explains. Oh. Right.

Silence.

You hug yourself again as another freezing breeze crosses your body. This is so incredibly awkward. It’s even hard to believe you know this man intimately, that you were in a relationship for three whole years. Right now, he just feels… foreign. It was never this way. Never.

Namjoon sighs and inhales the last bit of his cigarette, before throwing it on the floor and stomping on it. “I… saw you with your boyfriend-”

“Stop.” You say abruptly, lifting your palm towards him before he can finish the sentence. “Just stop. We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” But he’s lifting his eyebrow again, and you know he’s getting sarcastic in the way you hate the most. “I was just going to say how happy you looked… babysitting him, I mean.”

You angrily throw the cigarette on the floor, stomping on it, and glare at him, feeling all of your nerves heating up with the familiar anger only Namjoon is able to ignite. “Fuck off, Namjoon."

“What? Am I lying?” He shrugs, the shadow of a mocking smirk on his lips. “Where is he right now? Passed out in some corner of the house?”

Anger immediately bubbles up within you, heating your cold body in a second. You roll your eyes, exhaling heavily, as you take the purse from over the roof again. “Don’t even know why I’m wasting my time with you anyways…”

You’re about to walk away from him - but Namjoon acts quicker.

He places his arm on the car roof, blocking your way; you feel his body close to you. Close enough for you to feel waves of heat emanating from his body, but still not touching you. Dangerously close.

You freeze in place.

You look up at him, surprised at his sudden movement… only to be met by the hooded gaze you’re very familiar with. The gaze that makes immediate goosebumps roam your skin.

He lowers his head a little bit to speak closer to your ear. Adrenaline starts to make your heart race. You remember how you always loved how tall he is, how he towers over you, how he had to lower his head to kiss you, or you’d have to tiptoe to reach his lips, how easily he could lift you up in his arms.

You remember and you gulp.

“You’re wrong, Y/N.” His voice is quiet and deep and shit he’s talking like that, he’s talking with that voice that means I want you right here and right now, and heat spreads through your body with that alone. “I never made you waste your time. I wouldn’t leave you alone… not when you look like this.”

He licks his lips slowly, looking you up and down. You can’t move. Your breath hitches.

You should’ve flinched or pushed him away when he leans his face closer to your neck, but you can’t. Not because you’re scared. Because a part of you is so used to this - the proximity, the heat - that you cannot react at all.

Namjoon closes his eyes for a moment and smirks.

“You’re using it. The perfume I gave you.” You widen your eyes, unconsciously putting your hand in the back of your neck, as you feel your cheeks burn. “So… you didn’t really forget me.”

You frown, once again getting defensive. “It’s just a perfume. It means nothing.”

Namjoon tilts his head. “It scares me how similar we are.”

“What?” But you shouldn’t have asked what, because you know Namjoon - and if you give him a single cue, he’ll use it. You should’ve cut the conversation short, but you didn’t.

“You’ve been lying to yourself all this time, too.”

Your jaw drops. You stare back at him, feeling anger bubbling in your chest again. “You think you know me so well, right, Namjoon? If you knew me so well, we’d still be together.”

“No. We’re not together because we know each other too well.” You hate this. You hate how right he is. Namjoon has always been extremely smart about everything, quick to analyze any situation he’s in. And yes, you used to hate how he would analyze your feelings as if you’re a thing, not a person.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “What do you want with this, huh, Namjoon? Are you trying to get into another argument?”

And then he’s smirking again - the sight of his dimples appearing making you feel weak.

“I kind of am. You know I like when you’re angry at me.”

You avoid his gaze, feeling that heat spread from your cheeks to your neck, but Namjoon tilts his head to the side, trying to keep eye contact with you. “Namjoon, let me go.”

“I’m not holding you, baby. Not even touching you.”

Baby.

Your legs feel even weaker at the familiar pet name. It’s been so long since you heard this…

Shit shit shit shit shit.

“You can walk away if you want… but you don’t want to, right?” He chuckles darkly.

“Namjoon, for fuck’s sake…” You put your hand over his muscular chest, pushing him away slightly, as you look around with worry. “Mark’s friends are literally right there. What if someone sees us?”

“Oh. So you’re worried about getting caught, not that your boyfriend is passed out somewhere, not having a clue that you’re here with me… interesting.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” You tighten your fists. “What do you want, huh, Namjoon? Is this how you try to make up with me?”

Namjoon eyes you seriously, jaw clenched - and again, you feel that you can’t breathe.

“I don’t want to make up with you.” His quiet, gravely voice echoes within your stomach. “I want to fuck you.”

You shiver.

Even after five months, your body never forgot him. How shameless and obscene he is with his words. How easy it is for him to get you worked up. It’s like his deep sultry voice is already stripping you down, even if he didn’t even touch you.

"T-That's not happening." But your voice doesn't sound as firm as you wanted it to sound, and your heart is beating fast, certainly not because you're angry… and you already feel the very familiar heat between your legs despite the chilly night.

Namjoon clenches his jaw and lowers his head again, his face dangerously close to your ear.

"I miss you so bad, baby." Your fists unconsciously tighten. Your chest heavens as your breathing gets deeper. His voice is serious and deep and quiet and pleading. You press your thighs on one another. "Shit… look at you. Every guy's been checking you out all night… but you're with the one that cares the least about you."

"Shut up." You finally look back at him, anger making you frown. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" He quirks one eyebrow up. "I don't know? Baby, I wouldn't waste my time getting drunk. You know that, right? If you were with me… shit…" he chuckles darkly. "Everyone in that goddamn party would be listening to you screaming my name right now."

"Namjoon..." You try to say in a warning tone, but your body doesn't agree with your brain; the warmth spreading from your face to your neck to your intimacy, the fast beating of your heart, the way your lips are slightly parted, how your body is literally melting.

"Those pretty lips of yours around my cock…" He closes his eyes for a moment, slowly getting closer to you - and you can't move away. "You always take me so well, baby…"

"Namjoon." You try again, but it seems that he's is having a lot of fun with your reactions. He licks his lips and smirks.

"Tell me, Y/N… is this… Mark… treating you well?" Your body freezes and melts at the same time when his large hand rests on your waist. "Is he fucking you good the way you like? The way you deserve?" Holy shit - you can barely breathe. "Does he put you on your fours the way you like it? Can he fuck you all night the way I do?"

He's leaning closer, eyes glued to your lips.

Your own gaze drops to his lips, too.

Then, you remember that you're on the sidewalk, four houses down the street from where your boyfriend and his friends are - and it snaps you back to reality.

You step away from him, yanking his hand off your waist. "Fuck off!"

You press the purse close to your body and walk away with firm and quick steps without looking back.

Your heartbeat thunders inside your ribcage, your mouth is dry; even your fingers shake slightly, the chilly breeze does little to refresh your high inner temperature. You shouldn't have talked to him. You should've walked away from him straight away. Why did you let his sultry voice get to your ears and down to your already throbbing core? You were absolutely right; you're not strong enough to face him, not at all.

Because you also miss him badly.

You miss his grip on you and his tongue on you and you miss his taste in your mouth, you miss feeling him deep inside your throat and then deep inside your cunt, stretching you and filling you up like no one else can - not even Mark.

You miss him so bad that your legs are already wobbly, even though he just touched your waist. You miss him so bad that it's hard to fake the crazed look in your eyes and to hold a smile when you get back inside the house, once again trying your best to pass imperceptible by everyone, trying not to engage in any conversation. The loud music and yelling bothers your ears, having to squeeze yourself between bodies and more bodies annoys you. It doesn't help that you don't know almost anyone in this house, mostly your fault, because your bad mood didn't let you socialize the way you usually would.

You just march to the second floor, towards the room Mark is sleeping in. You have to anchor your senses again; being anywhere near him will make you go insane. You need to remind yourself that this is the party your current boyfriend brought you to, the boyfriend you like very much, the guy that treats you well and is obviously in love with you. Namjoon is your past, Mark is your present. You can't hurt his feelings like that.

You can't.

But your body can't lie, either.

Because when you're about to hold the doorknob to Mark's room, you feel a familiar grip on your elbow. You do not fight this grip as it quickly pulls you inside the next guest room, and you do not flinch as the door is swiftly closed shut and your body is pressed against it, and you are not surprised when the light is turned on and you face Namjoon.

You do not push him away when his lips clash on yours.

The kiss tastes like tobacco; your senses are overwhelmed by his perfume, the one he knows you love. Namjoon doesn't try to be gentle or slow because he knows you don't like it. His tongue entangles in yours, one hand grips the hair at the back of your head while the other squeezes your ass, making you moan within the kiss. You grip his hair as well, the other arm going around his shoulders, as you tiptoe, kissing him back eagerly.

You're panting and your chest heavens as you finally break the kiss for a moment. Your mind is clouded by his perfume and his hands and his mouth, now leaving wet kisses on your neck, sucking on it softly and making you whimper.

"N-Namjoon…" you try to call his attention, but it's too late; your voice is breathy and whiny in the way that makes him go insane. "We shouldn't…"

It's ridiculous that you're saying this as his hands are on you and his mouth is on you and every inch of your body is screaming for him. This is wrong - this is nasty, ugly, unacceptable. Your boyfriend is sleeping in the room next to this. His friends are downstairs. Yes, you are well aware of all that.

And still - you don't push him away. You don't want him to stop.

"Yes, we shouldn't." His voice is also breathy. He kisses your lips eagerly again. "But you want this, Y/N. And I want it, too. Fuck, I need you, baby…" He presses his body against you strongly, and you feel his clothed erection against your stomach; it's enough to make your mouth water. He passes his tongue on your bottom slip slowly, before kissing you again; your legs are already weakened by this action. "Need you around me… I know you want this, too, baby… let me fuck you good, just this last time…"

Your breath comes out shaky when his hand lifts your tight dress up to your hips to squeeze your ass. As one arm circles around your waist, the other hand that was on your ass shamelessly travels to rest over your panties, his palm pressing on your warm pussy. He caresses your intimacy, making you moan quietly and unconsciously buck your hips with the movement of his hand. Namjoon smirks and hums, hypnotized by the way you bite your bottom lip, these begging eyes he knows so well.

"You're always so ready for me, baby… look at how wet you already are..." he chuckles darkly, sending shivers down your spine. He presses his palm more firmly on your clit, making you let out a slightly louder moan, closing your eyes for a moment. He pushes your jacket away with his other hand, letting a trail of kisses on your shoulder. "But I can stop if you want to…"

"No." You blurt out in a pleading voice, once again making him smirk. "Don't you dare stop."

Yes - you are very well aware of how wrong this is.

You are very well aware that guilt will crush you later.

But right now, you decide to shut everything else but him. All of your problems and guilts and regrets stand out of this room, waiting to greet you as soon as you walk out. They're distant and muffled, just like the loud music downstairs, asleep just like your drunk boyfriend, barely a wall away from you.

You decide to ignore all of that.

What exists right now is Namjoon and your insatiable lust.

Your hand searches for the key and you turn it, locking the door.

"Why you gotta do this to me, Namjoon?" You whine in a pleading voice, before holding his face with both hands and forcing him to kiss you - which he reciprocates eagerly. "Why… why you gotta make my life so difficult?"

He bites your bottom lip and chuckles. "I already said… I love it when you're mad at me." His palm keeps pressing on your intimacy, making circular movements over your clit, and you purr in delight, throwing your head back. "And you love it too, don't you, baby? I know you too well… You’re so nasty for me.”

“Shit…” You curse under your breath, feeling your inner temperature increase each second. You grab the fabric of the jacket on his shoulders and start to buck your hips on his hand more frantically. “Shit, I need you inside of me…”

Namjoon growls on your ear and presses your body against the door with his own, forcing you to stop bucking your hips. “Not so soon, baby. This won’t be quick. It’s been five months… I’m gonna take my time with you.” He kisses you, and when he leans away, there’s the smirk again. “I will make you come good, baby… but first, let me fuck this pretty mouth of yours, will you?”

Excitement bubbles up within you, and you bite your bottom lip, nodding. The things Namjoon makes you do… it’s like you become a different person around him when you two have sex.

He takes his hand off your pussy and you immediately miss his touch, but you know it’ll be worth it later. “Take this shit off, I want to see you.” He growls, grabbing the collar of your jacket and rather aggressively making you take it off, throwing it on the floor with your purse. That smirk of approval… it’s enough to make you press your thighs together again. “Fuck, how can that guy not want to fuck your brains out when you look so delicious in this dress?”

You feel a glimpse of discomfort at Namjoon’s words - you don’t want to be reminded of Mark, of how ugly your actions are, or you’ll want to stop. But he doesn’t give you time to think too much about it, because his hand rests at the top of your head and he looks into your eyes darkly.

“On your knees.”

You smirk, obeying him without complaints. You keep intense eye contact as Namjoon works on his belt, finally freeing his hardened member from his boxers - and your mouth immediately waters. He’s so big. Your pussy throbs in anticipation, at the mere thought that soon, his thick and veiny cock will be slamming inside of you after five months.

“Let me see if you still remember how to do it.” He says in a challenging tone, cocking one eyebrow up and smirking, and you have to gulp at the sight of him grabbing his own cock, pumping it up and down slowly.

"Of course I do." You say, batting your lashes prettily at him. "I'm the only one that can take you."

Namjoon chuckles, but his chuckle dies in a hiss when you hold his shaft with one hand and lick the tip like a kitty, never breaking eye contact. He lets a deep grunt when your lips wrap around the tip, sucking it gently like it is the sweetest lollipop. He closes his eyes momentarily and tilts his head to the side, face contorting in pleasure.

"You're so hot, baby…" you would've smirked if you didn't have the tip of his dick in your mouth - and the sight makes Namjoon desperate to have more of you. He grabs the hair at the top of your head and yanks you off his cock, and yes, it's painful - but you're used to it. You've been missing it. "Open your mouth."

Once again, you obey him. Namjoon shoves his dick into your open mouth all the way down your throat; you choke, sinking your nails on the flesh of your thighs. You sucked him off more times than you can count, but you never quite got used to how truly big he is. Namjoon pushes inside as much as possible making you tighten your eyes and gag. It's uncomfortable. But it's alright. You can take him.

Namjoon lets out a deep moan and bites his bottom lip. "You look so pretty with my cock inside your mouth…" his deep voice travels all the way to your wet core, and you tighten your cunt around nothing. His strong grip on your hair keeps your head in place as he starts to thrust in and out. You grunt around his dick, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure all throughout Namjoon's body. He pants with his mouth open, licking his lips, hissing and letting deep moans that resonate in you. "You missed it too, right, Y/N? You look so hungry right now, taking me like the big girl you are…"

Again, he sees the hint of a smirk on your lips and the mischief in your eyes, and he knows you would've said something if you could.

You tighten your lips around his dick, sucking as he thrusts deep down your throat, making him throw his head back in pleasure. You have tears in the corners of your eyes, but his face contorted in delight is worth it. He digs his nails in your scalp, pushing your head into his dick as he thrusts; he's being rougher than usual, it's getting difficult to breathe.

As if he's some sort of telepath, Namjoon takes his dick off your mouth and you gasp for air; a streak of saliva connects your lips to the tip. The sight of your hooded eyes, parted and swollen lips glinting with saliva is so absurdly sensual that Namjoon has to take a deep breath, controlling himself not to blow his load already.

"It seems that you really forgot how to do it, huh?" He says with mischief. "What? Your boyfriend's cock can't reach that deep inside your throat?"

You click your tongue, feeling a spark of anger within you when Namjoon cites Mark again. "Fuck you."

He chuckles, very much pleased to see how easy it is to irk you up - but again, his voice stumbles into a grunt when you wrap your lips around his tip without warning, sucking it eagerly. You grab his shaft with one hand and it glides easily across it, thanks to your saliva. Though the music from outside is still loud, your ears are only filled with the wet noise your hand gliding on him produces, sucking noises, and Namjoon's grunts and hisses of pleasure.

A streak of curses leaves his mouth as you start to take more and more of him relentlessly. Once again, he grips your scalp strongly, shoving your head into his dick as he thrusts. You gag and whimper, and it only increases Namjoon’s arousal. You can already see the glint of sweat on his forehead and neck.

"Shit, Y/N, shit-" he grunts, once again throwing his head back. He then locks his gaze with yours, watching as you swallow him eagerly. "Fuck, I want to cum all over your face. Ruin your makeup and hair… so when you walk back to Mark, he's gonna know what we did here."

Stop talking about him!, you want to yell. I don't want to remember he's in the next room!

The feral glare you send him, the sight of his dick in all its length inside your mouth, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, the drool on the corner of your lips - it’s almost too much for him. “Stop, baby, stop.” Namjoon clicks his tongue, yanking your head away from his cock.

You groan and gulp, never once breaking eye contact. You lick your lips slowly and smirk mischievously as you clean the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “What? Am I too much for you to handle?”

“Get up.” He orders impatiently, and you do so in an instant. His lips clash on yours again in a sloppy, heated kiss, his hand grabbing the hair at the back of your head tightly. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You smile as excitement bubbles at the pit of your stomach. Contrary to what you thought he would do - carry you to the bed, he places his hands on your waist and spins you around, so now your back is facing him. You grunt as he roughly presses you against the door, keeping you trapped between it and his muscular body.

Looking over your shoulder, you watch as he takes his jacket off and throws it on the floor, eyes glued to your ass. Purring, you arch your back to him, as both palms rest on the door for support. In a swift movement, he grabs the hem of your panty and slides it down your legs.

“Ah… so pretty. So pretty, baby…” He compliments darkly, caressing your ass and squeezing it. You gasp when, unexpectedly, he lands a hard slap on one of the cheeks. It burns, and you close your eyes tightly on instinct. Namjoon chuckles and licks his lips. He presses his body against yours, and you feel his cock against your ass.

“How much do you want me, hm, Y/N?” He asks in a low voice with his lips on your ear. He kisses the bit of skin where your jaw meets your neck and licks it. Your pussy throbs and tightens around nothing as you feel him bucking his hips on you, caressing your ass with his cock, moaning with the back of his throat. The sound makes you purr and bite your bottom lip.

“Namjoon, stop teasing me,” you whine, making him chuckle once again. “Just fuck me already.”

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He kisses your shoulder tenderly. “Is that what you want?”

You forget what you were going to say as you feel his hand traveling to your front, between your legs, to touch your clit in slow, circular movements, at the same time the other hand grabs your breast over the dress, squeezing it with care. “You… hmm… you said… you were going to fuck me.”

“Yes, but I don’t think you’re needy enough.” He keeps humping his hardened dick on your ass, all the while his hand moves on your clit way slower than you’d like. “You’re not too proud to beg, are you, Y/N?”

You look at him angrily from over your shoulder, but when he adds a little more pressure on your clit, your complaint is choked in a moan that escapes from your lips. You tighten your fists, closing your eyes tightly, as the circular movement gets faster, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You bite your bottom lip, purposefully pressing your ass against his member, making him groan quietly.

“I haven't even started yet, but look at how loud you are.” Namjoon chuckles and bites your earlobe lightly.

“Namjoon,” you meow his name in such a way that has him closing his eyes for a moment. “N-Need you inside of me.”

“Hmm?” He presses your clit even harder, making you moan and throw your head back, resting it on his shoulder. Namjoon’s evil smirk widens. “Didn’t hear you, babe.”

“Please. Please. I’ve been missing it so much.” You cry, having no idea of how hard you’re stroking his ego with those words. Yes, he was right - you’re not too proud to beg when it comes to sex. Namjoon hums in approval, leaving a surprisingly tender kiss on your cheek.

“I’ll give you what you want, baby… you deserve it. You always do.”

Your whole body shakes in anticipation when he takes his hand off your clit. Namjoon spits on his hand, and you moan lightly as you feel him pressing it on your folds, mixing it with your juices. “You got a condom?” He asks. You shake your head frantically.

“Don’t. I want to feel you.” He tilts his head and quirks one eyebrow up, not even bothered by your request. You’re always on the pill anyway. Yes, maybe you’re being reckless, but you really want to feel him as he is.

“As you wish.”

You shiver as he holds your hips firmly with both hands, and you open your palms on the door again for support. Your pussy is already throbbing when you feel him position his dick on your entrance.

You cry out in pleasure when he finally penetrates you.

The stretch feels so amazing that your legs almost lose all of their strength. You close your eyes tightly, eyebrows knitted, mouth opened.

He grunts with the back of his throat in a way that makes you even weaker. “All the way, baby?”

You nod frantically, opening your eyes for a moment to see him over your shoulder. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

He chuckles and licks his lips, eyes focused on the sight of his cock halfway inside of you. “You’re so desperate tonight.”

He does exactly what you asked.

It’s like the air is knocked out of your lungs. You’re unable to muffle the moan that escapes from your lips when he puts everything inside, balls deep in. You clench around him, making Namjoon moan as well and throw his head back; the sight of his parted lips, closed eyes and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows mesmerizes you. It doesn’t matter how many times you fucked - it was never not amazing. Every nerve in your body yells in pure pleasure. Words can't describe how much you've been missing him inside of you; your body never forgot, always tight for him, always ready to accommodate him.

"Fuck- you feel amazing…" he says in a breathy voice that makes you melt. "You were right, baby… no one can take me like you can." He thrusts for the first time, making you squeak and bite your bottom lip at the delicious friction the girth of his member produces against your velvet walls. He thrusts again and again, grunting at each movement, making you see stars. You hear his low chuckle which makes more goosebumps roam your skin. "L-Look at you right now… I didn't even begin yet, Y/N. Are you going to cum already?" He chuckles again. "Guess I was right… your boyfriend hasn't been treating you that well, since you're so desperate for me…"

"Shut up." You eye him again over your shoulder, trying your best to look annoyed, but it's hard to do so when his dick is this deep inside of you. "Stop talking… just fuck me."

You see a glimpse of annoyance in his eyes as, out of sudden, he growls and picks a much faster and stronger pace; you whimper in surprise when he presses his forearm against the back of your neck, sticking your cheek against the door, keeping your back incredibly arched. You pant with your mouth opened, obscene moans unconsciously escaping, each thrust of his sending shockwaves of pleasure to every piece of your body, making the tiny hairs of your arms rise. Fuck, you've always loved when he went rough you on; sometimes, you'd even purposefully argue with him over the stupidest things, just because you knew that making up with him meant he would let his emotions loose with angry sex. You loved to be bitten and slapped and choked by him - even if you'd be sore the next morning, it was always worth it.

"You know," he growls in a deep and breathy voice without slowing his pace even once. "It's funny how you get angry and want to defend him while I'm dicking you down. Such a protective girlfriend."

"N-Namjoon-" you try to speak, but your voice dies in a strangled moan. Namjoon smirks. Your ears are filled with both your breathy voices of pleasure, his pelvis smacking against your ass, the squelching noises his dick coming in and out of you produces, and- and-

Your ear is pressed against the door. You can hear the voices out there in the hallway beyond the loud music.

"If you moan a little louder, they will hear you, too." Namjoon says as if he just read your mind. "Is that what you want, Y/N?" You bite your bottom lip, trying to shut your voice, but it's almost painful to keep quiet when he's fucking you so hard. "N-Not that I would mind… you have such a pretty voice, baby… I love it when you cry for me…"

You roll your eyes in pleasure, feeling your sanity running thin. Your moans sound more like painful strangled whimpers now as you desperately try to not make much noise, which only increases Namjoon’s arousal. There’s just something about you - the way you so shamelessly display your pleasure - that simply doesn’t compare to anything he had experienced with anyone else. He loves to make you feel good. He loves your face contorted in pleasure, when you’re desperate and begging for release.

“Fuck-” you say in a tired and tiny voice that almost causes the same effect on him as the feeling of your cunt tightening around his member. “Fuck- you’re s-so big-”

Namjoon smirks again. He always knows when you’re close. He could tease you a bit and deny your orgasm, but he’s been missing you so much and your moans sound so good that he can’t bring himself to be so cruel. “Are you going to cum for me, baby?” You nod frantically again, eyes closed, lips parted.

“Yes… p-please, don’t stop… f-feel so good…” you don’t have any control of the words coming out of your mouth anymore, your mind way too drowned in pleasure to think straight.

His forearm leaves the back of your neck and he holds your hips tightly again, keeping the exact same pace you need to reach your high. You tighten your fists again, feeling your legs lose strength and every nerve in your body going haywire the closest you get to your orgasm. The slick arousal drips from your inner thighs, sweat covers your forehead, neck and chest; you hear the voices of the people talking literally on the other side of the door, the loud music, Namjoon grunting, you feel the fire building up and spreading through you, you feel his cock coming in and out of you, reaching deep, the glorious friction it produces every time-

Namjoon stops moving and keeps his member buried in you as you orgasm, throwing your head back, your convulsing body, your eyes turned in pleasure. You’re barely even breathing. He holds your hips tightly, taking a moment to catch his breath. The way you’re so tightly clenched around him makes him close his eyes and sigh in pleasure.

He waits until you calm down a bit.

He’s not done with you yet.

You’re taken by surprise when you feel him pulling his dick out and suddenly wrapping his arms around your waist. Namjoon sticks his chest to your back and lifts you up, easily walking towards the bed. He practically throws you over it and you bounce on the soft mattress, causing you to giggle tiredly. It makes him smile, too - but at the same time, it’s like an arrow has trespassed his heart, because if you giggle and look happy like that, it makes him remember when you were together and everything was okay.

Namjoon stands at the edge of the bed. His dick is still standing tall, glistering with your juices.

“Suck it.” He orders. The way you smirk and crawl on your fours towards him with eyes glued on his member makes him feel goosebumps. You don’t complain - your hand simply holds his shaft again and then your lips are wrapped around it. Namjoon hisses and throws his head back. You don’t waste any time, taking more of him inside your mouth, bobbing your head across his length, sucking him eagerly. The taste of your own arousal doesn’t bother you.

Namjoon rests his hand on the top of your head, gently massaging your scalp instead of gripping it, which makes you somehow smile. “I-I missed this every fucking day… you have no idea…”

You take his cock out of your mouth for a moment, just to look up at him and smirk. “I think I do.” You lick the tip again, making him hiss and close his eyes momentarily. Namjoon watches, completely mesmerized, as you keep sucking him. He thinks you’re so absurdly pretty, it’s almost unreal.

Namjoon grunts at some point and the fingers that were caressing your hair now are gripping it, once again yanking you away from his cock. You look up at him with round, confused eyes. “What? I thought you wanted to come in my mouth.” He smiles and shakes his head. How can you fake that innocent voice so well?

He holds your forearm and makes you get on your knees; delicately puts some loose strands of hair behind your ear before kissing you. As your lips move, you feel his hand search for the zipper on your back. He zips the dress down and leans away so you can lift your arms for him to fully take the dress off.

Namjoon smiles at the sight of your breasts covered in the black lace bra. He always loved when you wore lace lingerie - especially black; once again, it’s like both of you knew you’d be here, and purposefully chose your outfits based on each other’s tastes. He kisses you again, massaging both of your breasts at the same time, earning soft moans from you.

He leans away. His hooded eyes make you shiver. “I’m not done with you yet.” He says quietly.

His hand rests on your chest and he pushes you delicately, making you sit. You keep propped up on your elbows, watching as he parts your legs. Namjoon licks his lips and smiles. “You’re dripping, baby.”

You hiss, toes curling, as he massages your clit again. Your nerves are still so sensitive from the previous orgasm, but at the same time, this pain feels good - so you just grip the sheets and bite your bottom lip, not wanting him to stop. His hand gets wet immediately - you are dripping indeed - and you gasp when suddenly, Namjoon inserts his ring and middle finger inside of you. Your walls immediately clench around them, having not recovered fully yet. Namjoon knows it. That’s why he moves his fingers inside of you slowly.

You throw your head back, gulping. “P-Put it in.” You stutter.

Namjoon nods, feeling all of his body shudder in anticipation. He takes his fingers out of you and holds your hips yet again. Instead of easing himself in at once, he glides his cock on your folds, humping slowly, causing both of you to moan. Finally, he puts it all in; you’re so wet that he simply slides in, making both of you moan at the same time.

It’s like your entire body is burning in flames as Namjoon starts to thrust, although slower this time. You analyze his features - face covered in sweat, jaw clenched tightly, an expression that almost looks like pain - and you wonder how much longer he can take. You want him to come, too; you can imagine how desperate he must be to get his release. Even so, he doesn’t go that hard from the beginning, aware of your sensitivity.

“Joon,” you call in that sensual voice that ignites every nerve in his body. You didn’t even realize that you just called him by the nickname. “I want you to cum for me, too.”

He looks at you without stopping his movements. “However I want, baby?”

You nod. “However you want.”

Namjoon tilts his head and pulls out suddenly. “On your fours.”

You smile, immediately doing as he asked; you turn around on fours, arch your back for him, ass up, your chest touches the mattress. You look over your shoulder and see Namjoon kneeling on the bed, eyes glued on your dripping entrance, so stretched and so exposed for him. He licks his lips and squeezes your ass before slapping it, sending jolts of pain down your legs. “You’re being such a good girl to me, Y/N… doing everything I ask.” He grips your hips and pulls in balls deep, making you whimper and bite your bottom lip. From the start, he picks a faster pace than before, completely focused on getting his release. Your whole body shakes and you grip the sheets tightly, trying your best to muffle your moans on the mattress, but it’s pretty impossible; you can just thank that the music out there is loud enough to disguise the obscene sounds coming from this bedroom.

Which makes you remember, for a single second, the image of a sleeping Mark next door.

But Namjoon’s cock inside of you overwhelms any guilt to take you over.

He groans and slaps your ass hard again, earning a gasp and a loud moan you can’t hold back. “Who else can fuck you like this, huh, Y/N?” He growls. “Who else can fill you up like this?”

“No one!” Shit - you might regret the things stumbling from your mouth later, but right now, your mind is so clouded by pleasure that you can’t stop to think of the things you’re saying. “O-Only you… you fuck me so good, Joon-” you squeak in pain when he slaps your ass again. “Don’t fucking stop!”

He’s so deep inside of you; with this position, he can easily hit your sweet spot - and he keeps hitting it mercilessly. You hear him chuckling mischievously. “You’re about to cum again, baby?”

You don’t answer this time, unable to form any coherent word anymore, just vulgar sounds coming from you instead. Bliss shadows your thoughts and senses, you can’t care about anything but his strong grip on your hips and his thick cock hitting deep inside of you over and over and over again, restless, ruthless, in that way only him can do, only him knows how you like. Your walls are so clenched that Namjoon feels about to explode. Yet, he doesn’t stop thrusting while you orgasm, convulsing around him, trembling and weak; it’s like your vision fades for a moment, all you can see is white. He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow his pace.

You’re forced to open your eyes and gasp when you feel his fingers brushing your clit.

“Namjoon, I- I already came-” you try to speak, but electricity runs through your system as his quick motions over your clit makes you wail.

“Come with me, baby,” he says mischievously, panting. “I know you can take it.”

Your eyes widen, you grab the sheets even harder as fingers work on your clit nonstop, all the while his cock keeps smacking inside of you again and again and again. You gasp for air, desperate and overcharged; you want to flinch away from his restless touch on your clit, but at the same time, the overstimulation feels so painful and so sweet that you can’t ask him to stop; you haven’t calmed down from your orgasm and you feel your pleasure levels increasing at a fast pace again.

A streak of curses leaves Namjoon’s mouth; you’re so incredibly tight and hot, it’s like he’s going insane. You squirm and cry out when the third orgasm in a row hits; tears form in the corner of your eyes, your body yells desperately after so much stimulation in such a short period. Your knees barely have any strength to them, you don’t how much longer you can keep your ass up. Yet, almost at the same time, Namjoon feels his own high hitting. He takes his hand off your clit and pulls out of you, holding his cock as he cums all over your ass and back, pumping it until he’s milked dry.

He flops by your side on the bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes.

You can barely even open your eyes. Your whole body is trembling and sweating. You’re so tired that you could honestly just sleep right here, in this position.

But you can’t.

Because, as you recover your breathing, as your heartbeat falls at a normal pace again, as arousal slowly fades from your mind and your body gets cold, you’re slowly reminded of the situation you put yourself in.

And it immediately starts to weigh.

You open your eyes to focus on Namjoon.

He’s still staring at the ceiling, covered in sweat, his t-shirt glued to his body. He licks his lips and gulps in a serious, thoughtful expression.

That’s not how it used to be.

Five months ago, after he fucked you hard like this, Namjoon would hug you tight. You’d smile at each other, you’d giggle at something silly one of you would say. You’d both walk to the bathroom to take a good shower. You’d wear one of his shirts, he’d blow your hair with the hairdryer, and you’d go to sleep in each other’s arms.

But Namjoon’s not your boyfriend anymore. Your break up was messy due to your already messy and broken relationship. At some point, sex was all you had, was all you could enjoy in each other’s company. Any talking led to fights. Namjoon was right - you know each other so well that you simply couldn’t stand each other anymore.

You still can’t.

This didn’t change.

You realize that when Namjoon looks back at you, and everything you can see in his eyes is sadness and resentment. Your bond is way too broken. Things will never be the same as they were.

Quietly, he gets up from bed and walks towards the bathroom (you didn’t even realize this guest room has a bathroom). He comes back with a few tissues in hand. Without uttering a word, he wipes out his cum from your ass and back. Still trembling, you get up from bed, taking your panties from the ground and putting it back on as Namjoon adjusts his pants. Music still pumps out there. Chatting. Yelling. Inside this bedroom is dead silent, though.

He zips your dress up without you needing to ask. It’s like you can’t look at each other anymore.

“I’ll walk out first.” He says quietly after a while. You just nod, sitting on the edge of the bed again, still feeling your whole body weakened.

Namjoon takes the jacket from the floor and throws it over his shoulder. He puts his hand over the doorknob and looks at you again.

Words can’t really explain what you’re feeling right now. Embarrassment. Guilt. Sadness. Everything is mixed with your stunt nerves, steaming hot inside of your chest, as the ugliness of what you just did starts to sink in.

Yes, you like Mark. You really do.

But you loved Namjoon. You loved him for three years - and five months weren’t enough to completely destroy these feelings for him.

Despite this… you know that any new attempt at a relationship with him will lead to nothing but more hurt, more than your heart can bear. You don’t want to bleed for him anymore. You just want… peace.

Although your actions tonight will bring you anything but peace.

“I still have the same number.” He says, eyeing you seriously. “When you get tired of playing with that boy… you know who to call.”

You shiver.

Namjoon walks out, closing the door again.

Your anesthetized body can’t let you cry, even if you really want to. You just sit here, staring blankly at the carpet, until twenty minutes have passed and you feel safe enough to walk out… to the bedroom next door, where your boyfriend still lays asleep. You can’t even stand to look at him, ashamed, as if the walls of that bedroom have eyes and have witnessed your betrayal, as if the Universe around is judging you.

You sit at the edge of the bed, gripping your knees.

Your bond with Namjoon is broken - and you might’ve broken your bond with Mark, too.

But how could you fight Namjoon’s gravitational pull, when he’s the indisputable center of your personal galaxy - no matter how hard you try to deny it?

You jump, startled, feeling Mark’s sudden touch on your wrist. You look down at his half asleep figure, his eyes barely opened. “Y/N…?”

“Y-Yes?” You gulp.

Mark smiles.

“I love you.”

Being shot in the heart would’ve hurt less.

You nod, blinking the incoming tears away. Your mouth tastes like iron. Your chest weighs tons. Namjoon’s face still rewinds in your mind over and over again, even though he already left, leaving you weakened and trembling and cold and empty.

Mark won’t remember anything tomorrow morning.

Only these walls witness your terrible lie.

“I love you, too.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon angst #ksmutclub #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts x reader #fic:gravity #THIS IS A BIT LATE LMAO BUT IT'S HERE!!!#PLEASE GIVE IT SOME LOVE!!!!

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lovesosweeet · 6 months

Text

better left unsaid // cth

chapter thirteen

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

august 3, 2018 los angeles, california orion

I've not left the apartment since I got home from the hospital two days ago, except to take Duke out a few times a day. The nausea has been unrelenting the entire time and I feel like I've been hit by a bus. I don't even sleep in our bed. I spend the whole time on the couch.

I'm grateful that I've only vomited once, but I haven't eaten a full meal in several days. From being stressed about Cal leaving to getting started on chemo, food hasn't exactly been appealing. I can tell my weight is going to plummet over the next several weeks, but it's hard to fight the feeling that I'll throw up anything I eat and also that adding anything else to the chaos in my stomach already is not a good idea.

Duke has been a great cuddle companion and has barely left my side. Calum called again yesterday but hasn’t yet called today. The time zones make it so confusing and I keep forgetting whether he’s ahead or behind of me in time. He texted me a few hours ago—it was just a selfie of him and Ashton backstage, letting me know they were about to perform. Once they finish the show tonight they’re flying to New Zealand, which I know he’s excited about.

It’s been long enough now that I think he should be off stage soon, if they aren’t already, but I know they’re going to be kind of chaotic afterwards because they’ll be rushing to the airport. I don’t plan on calling him at all; his schedule is so insane and busy, and I know he will do his best to call me as much as he can. I’ll call him if it’s important enough, but so far nothing has happened that should mean I call him.

This morning I woke up to a banging on the apartment door and to my dismay I found my moms had ordered groceries for me. It was just a bunch of easy to make foods — cans of soup, frozen pizzas, instant ramen — but it still frustrated me that they would do that without asking me. I don’t need their help.

I grumble silently, dragging the food inside with Duke sticking his face in the bags. “Nothing for you, sorry buddy.”

Once I get the frozen food into the freezer, I go to flop back on the couch. My body aches so much. I don’t feel like I can stand for more than a few minutes at a time. I’ve debated checking with Macy to see if she would be able to walk Duke for me, but I’m scared to rope another person in on my secret. I’m on the couch watching more Girl Meets World when Emelia texts me.

From: emi✨ how ya doin today? need anything?

To: emi✨ yuck. am fine. just don’t wanna move ever again.

From: emi✨ do you want me to walk duke for you? i can come by after work!

I want to say yes, but she’s already doing so much. She’s the one who will be driving me to and from chemo next week, and she’s already planning on coming over again tomorrow to keep an eye on me. I’m hoping I feel okay enough to hang out with Macy in a few days like we’d planned… I decide I am just going to suck it up. I can handle it. What's the worst that can happen?

I text Emelia "no" and then muster as much strength as I have left to get off the couch again. It's time to take a shower, I decide.

It takes me a somewhat shameful amount of time to get to the bathroom and turn on the water. I crank it all the way up because I'm freezing. Before I get in, I grab a pair of Cal's boxers and one of his hoodies to put on when I get out, and then I hook my phone up to the Bluetooth speaker so I can listen to music.

The sound of Maisie Peters' brief but iconic discography echoes in the room while I step under the hot water, and I instantly feel better. Washing my hair feels weird because it's so much shorter than it was when I last washed it. I pump out far too much shampoo for the amount of hair I have left, but it smells nice, so it's fine.

I'm singing the words to Worst of You when the music is replaced by ringing. Someone is calling me, and, if I had to guess, it's Calum. Of course, he calls right during the first time in the past several days that I can't answer. Quickly, I rinse the shampoo from my hair and try to scrub my entire body, undoubtedly missing a few places, but I just want to get out.

Tossing the sweatshirt on over my wet hair and clumsily stepping into the boxers, I grab my phone off the counter and hit the button to call Calum back. While it rings, I wrap the towel over my hair and walk out of the bathroom, plopping back on the couch.

"If it isn't my favorite girl on the planet," Calum answers.

My mood instantly lifts but I roll my eyes. "I'm telling Joy that she's not your favorite. She won't be happy."

"That's different and you know it."

I smile. I love that he loves his mom so much, but being ranked higher than her is really such an honor. She's a wonderful lady.

"Sorry to miss your call, I was in the shower."

"No, it's fine! We're driving to the airport now and I just wanted to say hi really quick."

"How was the second show?"

Calum starts talking about a technical issue that I don’t really understand but try to listen intently. Something about the sound in his earpieces cutting off and no one believed or understood him so he had to play the whole show not being able to hear anything. He said the fans made him a sign to remind him of his lyrics (a common trend) and someone threw a beaded bracelet onstage that had a C and an O with a heart between them.

“It’s yours now,” he says. “It won’t fit me but it’ll fit your tiny wrist.”

I smile. It’s a cute memento and I am glad the fans are kind of warming up to me. I try to avoid looking for their opinions and thoughts on me but it’s a bit inescapable if I go on any of the 5SOS pages to check for updates.

“Can’t wait to have it,” I tell him.

“Did I tell you I’ve flown Mum out to Auckland? We’ll get there around the same time.”

“No! You didn’t tell me, but I’m jealous. I miss her.”

“She misses you too. She said they’d love to come to LA for Christmas, too, so we can maybe start planning that?” He says it like a question. “I know it’ll probably be you planning it because I know you love planning but it doesn’t have to be just you.”

My heart gets warmer at the thought. I love hosting and spending time with our favorite people, especially for special occasions. It could also be the first time we get to introduce our families to each other. We only have one guest room, but Cal’s office/studio could fit an air mattress for Mali if she doesn’t bring a partner. My family could just come up for the day, or maybe Cal and I could sleep on the couch and give my moms and brother our room.

Then I remember treatment plans and all of the uncertainty in my future and my head starts to spin. Will we be able to host if I’m going through treatment? Maybe Cal should just go to Australia for Christmas without me, and I’ll stay here and get treatment or just spend it with my own family. I try not to think on it too hard, but there is still, devastatingly, a chance that Calum won’t be happy when I tell him I’ve been lying.

He wouldn’t break up with me over it, I don’t think, but sometimes when he’s mad he does lose sight of rationality. It’s not a unique trait to him. We all do it. He’s never gotten mad at me—we’ve had fights and arguments but he’s never been angry with me specifically, more a situation or something that just frustrates him. I don’t know how he’s going to react, and maybe that’s part of why I didn’t want to tell him at all. I am 98% sure Calum would’ve opted out of tour for me, but that other 2% gnaws at the back of my brain.

Would he have ended it then and there? Why go through the heartache of being with someone you know will die soon?

“Orion?” Cal’s voice interrupts my spiral.

“Sorry, what?”

He laughs. “I said you’d probably want to be in charge of planning Christmas.”

I laugh nervously. “Yeah, I mean… probably.”

He’s silent for a minute. It’s a short pause and with anyone else, it wouldn’t matter or stick out, but with Calum, it does. “You okay?”

I hate how easily he’s able to read me without even being able to see me. I quickly try to come up with an excuse. “Yeah, just been having a hard time sleeping. The apartment feels so empty without you.”

Calum pauses again, and I know it’s because that idea makes him a bit sad. “Would you feel better if Em stayed there? That could be fun, a four month sleepover with your bestie.”

I purse my lips, holding back that Em has already stayed here one night of the three that he’s been gone. “Maybe.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry you’re feeling lonely. Let me know if there’s any way I can help. Even if it’s just to fly home for a day whenever we have a break or to fly you somewhere for a day. I don’t care. I want to see you, especially if you’re down, okay?”

I want to shake my head but he can’t see me. “Cal, it’s fine. We’ll be fine. Just might take a bit to get used to.”

“I don’t want you to get used to a life without me, O. I’m here, forever, okay? Whatever you need, I’m there.”

With each word, I can feel my heart ripping down the middle, inch by inch. I don’t know how it’s still whole.

“I love you,” is all I manage to say. I’m choking back tears, the guilt is so much. How can I keep this up? How can I hold this in?

“I love you, too.” He sounds sad now. “Love, we’re almost to the airport. Do you want me to call you again once we’re through security? We don’t have to stop talking.”

I clear my throat. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. Just text me before you take off.”

“We’re both gonna be fine. I’ve gotta go. I love you.”

I feel my tears slowly trickling down my face and I don’t bother to wipe them away. “I love you. Bye.”

Then we hang up, and I can really start sobbing. Duke runs over, his ears perked up. He’s not sure why I’m crying and he hops up next to me, sticking his face by mine. When he starts licking my face, I stop him. I’d read something about how all bodily fluids post-chemo are essentially poison. I don’t want to get Duke sick, too. I can’t handle that. We can’t both be sick.

I pull Duke close to me and squeeze him as much as I can without hurting him. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this, but I know I will, at least for now. I’ll have Em and my moms and Ash and Duke and everything will be fine. It has to be.

next chapter

a/n: spoiler next chapter will have a bomb drop hehehe

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #calum hood #ashton irwin #fanfiction #fanfic #5sosfam #5sos fanfic #calum imagine #calum fanfic #calum 5sos #calum #better left unsaid #calum fic

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bi-bats · 8 months

Note

hello!! i was just wondering, since the damitim fic is ongoing, does this mean know yourself updates are slowed/paused? (not a complaint i’m loving both!!)

Hiya!! Sorry that I never give easy answers 😂

So yes, Know Yourself updates are slower (not paused or on hiatus!! I am working on it still), but it's not because of the DamiTim fic.

I've been writing Know Yourself for over a year now (even though I haven't been posting it that long) and I'm just struggling with getting the words on the page to be what I want them to be. The plot is sorted out and I'm content with what I'm going to make happen, but also when I think about the fic my brain starts to feel the way my eyes do when I stare at a screen too long 😂 so I'm trying to be patient with myself and let myself take my time with it instead of pushing something out that I'm really not happy with, because 1) I think it'll show, 2) I'll just burn myself out, and 3) if I treat it like a chore it'll never get finished.

Also I've realized (post-jaytimweek) that I prefer writing in present tense, it makes everything feel more natural to me and I can control some writing things like timing and flow a little better and I WROTE OVER 100K WORDS IN PAST TENSE FOR THAT FIC AND I'M NOT FUCKING SWITCHING NOW!!!! SO I GUESS I GOTTA FINISH IT IN PAST TENSE!!!!

And also we're at the point in the plot of Know Yourself where I'm really stepping on the gas on the number of things happening per chapter, and the chapters are overwhelmingly long. And I would love to simply be more brief, but everything happening is relevant to the plot, so. Sigh.

Now, the DamiTim fic.

That one is just going up because that fic is happening to me. I can't prevent that fic from occurring. I would love to think about something else, actually! That boy is so unwell! But that's what I'm feeling inspired about and lately I've only been able to write when something worms into my brain and I have to put it on the page immediately no matter where I am or what I'm doing (I have a newish manager who doesn't know how to write a schedule, so I'm currently on day 7 of a ten day stretch of work where I only had one day off, which I had to spend doing all my chores and then hosting D&D. So basically, gone are the days off where I could just sit at my computer and write for a day 😭😭😭).

Also, Ive been having problems with Know Yourself since May, but the DamiTim fic is just fucking pouring out of me fugue state style. My brain hasn't latched onto DamiTim and released Know Yourself in favor of it, it's that the claws of Know Yourself began to unsink from my flesh like, 2 months ago and DamiTim saw its chance. Like, this isn't about to be a cute analogy, but I feel like I'm vomiting out the DamiTim fic because it's a virus. It can't be in my brain anymore okay? I need it out. And it feels like a shame to have like, almost 40k words of it written and just sitting in my drafts when I could be updating it (which I'm sure you appreciate if you're loving that one too 😂), and it has the added benefit of yall knowing I haven't abandoned the fandom/preventing yall from thinking that something horrible has happened to me!

Tldr/to reiterate: yes I'm slowing down on Know Yourself, but it's not because of any of the other chaptered fics I'm working on.

Anyways, sorry this got long and ranty, I think I needed to vent all this out anyways so thank you for giving me a chance to do that!! And also thank you for phrasing your ask the way you did, I really appreciate you specifying that you're not complaining 😂 this is a valid question (that did not upset me but could've if the phrasing was different) and I didn't feel pressured so thank you!!! Ily anon 💕💖💚

#🥸 anon ask #batsasks #know yourself #bibatrambles #i hope this doesn't read like me feeling like I had to justify myself bc fr I don't feel like that #i just wanted to kvetch for a little bit 😂#everyone play nice with anon I'm not upset with them 💕

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defectivevillain · 1 year

Text

the day seems so dark

pairing: choi chi-yeol/reader (can be platonic or romantic)

summary: You're Chi-yeol's personal assistant. Your boss is certainly influential, but you hadn't expected to adopt his poor self-care habits of all things.

reader’s pronouns are unspecified but masc-intended.

word count: 3.1k

[ao3 version here]

warnings: fatigue/exhaustion, sickness, mentions of disordered eating, vomiting

Working for Choi Chi-yeol makes you feel less like an assistant and more like a bodyguard, chauffeur, and… note-taker. But, that suits you just fine. In fact, Mr. Choi has since refused to have any of his other employees in your place. He specifically requests your services, despite the numerous times you can recall in which you made mistakes. Whenever you discuss work with your friends, they always assert that Mr. Choi actually tolerates you. You care to disagree.

Regardless, you’ve grown accustomed to accompanying Mr. Choi everywhere he goes. You drive him to his lessons and sit in the hallway while he teaches. You take him to commercial filmings, executive meetings… Anything is fair game. When you first took the position of an employee under Mr. Choi, you hadn’t expected to be his personal assistant. You certainly don’t mind having the position—the salary increase certainly helps—but it also means that you have to ward off some of his fans.

Right now, though, you’re just waiting outside as Mr. Choi finishes up his lesson. It only takes him a few minutes to wrap everything up before making his characteristic swift exit. You fall into step behind him once he enters the hallway. For a brief moment, you think that you may be blissfully free of harassment today. Of course, the moment you think so, the two of you are suddenly surrounded by his fans. There are girls everywhere—grabbing at him, handing him baked goods, and asking for photos. You have to stand between Mr. Choi and the crowd as an impromptu barrier. It’s far from enjoyable but, thankfully, you don’t get hurt. The two of you make it into the elevator entirely unharmed.

Your torture doesn’t end there, however. On your way back to the car, Mr. Choi encounters Ms. Jung—or, as he likes to call her, Ms. Cho. The conversation is painfully tense and awkward. The woman is clearly enamored with the man—as most people are—but Mr. Choi remains uninterested. Eventually, you have to interject and apologize to the woman so that the two of you can leave. As you walk back to the car, you realize that you’ve had to do a rather lot of apologizing for Mr. Choi recently. He’s been in a strange mood the past few days. You mull over the thought as you drive out of the parking lot.

“Mr. Choi, you could stand to meet some new people,” you sigh, after you’ve been driving for a few minutes. That encounter with Ms. Jung in the hallway was certainly awkward, to say the least. Mr. Choi’s adamance on calling her by the wrong name definitely didn't help. You can’t necessarily blame him—he’s almost constantly propositioned by women like Ms. Jung. Even so, he could have been a bit nicer to her.

“Relationships are a hassle,” your boss says in lieu of a response.

You huff out a laugh. Mr. Choi seems surprised that you can find amusement in his remark. “You’re not wrong.” You pull up to a red light and, once the car is stopped, you grab his meal from the front seat and extend it back to him. “Here.” You glance up at the rearview mirror a few seconds later, unsurprised to find that Mr. Choi is looking at the sandwich in his hands with a mildly disgusted expression.

It’s almost as if you blink and one moment, he’s complaining about the taste; the next moment, your boss is throwing up in a bathroom stall. You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose, propping yourself up against the closed door of his stall. You procure a handkerchief and fold it repetitively, anxious for something to keep your hands busy.

“I was under the impression that you went to the doctor recently,” you say, once Mr. Choi has recovered enough to make it to the sink area. Your boss swishes water in his mouth a few times and spits it out.

“I did,” Mr. Choi acquiesces, this time taking a sip of water and swallowing it. He pauses for a few moments, as if waiting to see if it will come back up. Nothing happens and he sighs, placing his hands on the countertop.

“And what did they say?” You prompt him. The man adjusts his posture and you remember the handkerchief you’re holding. When he grabs it, his fingers brush against yours and a shiver runs down your spine. Mr. Choi wipes at his face with the handkerchief, evidently not thrilled to answer your question. He spends a rather unnecessary amount of time washing his hands.

“Eating disorder due to stress,” your boss eventually answers. You sense that there’s more he isn’t telling you, but it’s clear that he doesn’t want to explain further. Honestly, you’re lucky that he told you anything.

“Did they provide you with any solutions?” You can’t help but ask, despite knowing that you’re pushing your luck. Mr. Choi makes eye contact with you in the mirror and silence descends across the space. You can practically feel the tension settling in the air.

“Eat and avoid stress.” The man finally says, breaking the rigid silence.

You bite your lip. It’s clear that the stress is coming from work. Mr. Choi is a well and true workaholic—he pretty much works himself to the bone. You know that, but you also know that speaking on those thoughts won’t change anything. Regardless of how much you nag him or suggest that he rests more, your boss won’t listen. He will continue working himself too hard. The thought saddens you, so much so that Mr. Choi asks you about the expression on your face. You shake your head and instead walk him back to the car. Your boss is too prideful to ask for assistance and you’ve given up on forcing him to accept your help; instead, you linger at a small distance behind him. He seems to appreciate the gesture, because he doesn’t push you away or mutter about your persistence.

The drive home after your unplanned stop doesn’t take too long, thankfully. Within ten minutes, you’re pulling into Mr. Choi’s garage. It takes a moment to gather all of Mr. Choi’s gifts from his adoring fans—which are now your gifts, since your boss isn’t able to accept all of the gifts he receives due to the sheer amount of them. You’ve grown used to him giving you baked goods and presents from his students. It’s almost a kind gesture, you think.

“Did you call a cab?” Mr. Choi’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. You nod in response, slinging your bag further up on your shoulder. Your phone pings to notify you that the cab driver is a few minutes away and you shove it into your pocket. When you look up, you’re surprised to find that Mr. Choi is staring at you. “Why won’t you let me buy you a car?” You shake your head. That’s the third time your boss has mentioned that this week. You wouldn’t feel right about him buying you a car. First of all, he’s your boss. Second of all, it would feel as if you were taking advantage of him. Also, you manage just fine without a car—which you make sure to tell him.

“I’m fine with taking a taxi,” you say. “Thank you, Mr. Choi. See you tomorrow; try to eat something.” Your boss doesn’t respond, instead turning his back and walking away. You watch him retreat, a strange feeling churning in your stomach. Before you can dwell on your anxiety for too long, your cab driver arrives and work slips to the back of your mind.

After the cab ride home, you heat up dinner and eat by yourself. It’s rather late, so you decide to shower and then go to sleep. Unfortunately, once you get in bed and turn off all the lights, your mind doesn’t want to settle down. It takes you several hours to fall asleep. When you finally succumb to slumber, it feels like a mere second passes before you’re being roused awake by your alarm. You blearily shut off your alarm and get to your feet, surprised by a sudden wave of vertigo. Your vision turns grainy and fuzzy for a moment, before it returns to normal. Well, that’s concerning.

Your morning routine is a bit clumsier than usual, but you manage to make yourself look presentable enough. You think your shirt may have a few wrinkles in it, but you’re past the point of caring. You have to take a deep breath before you get your shoes on and lock the door to your apartment. Next, you walk to the bus stop and take the bus to Chi-yeol’s office. Thankfully, it’s within a reasonable commuting distance. You don’t really want to call a cab twice in less than twelve hours, so you suffer through riding the crowded bus.

When you finally arrive at work, you feel slightly on edge. You make sure to greet your coworkers and talk with them for a little while, brushing yourself up on any new happenings. Mr. Choi doesn’t have too much scheduled before his lessons today, thankfully. You don’t know what you’d do if you had to go to another commercial filming. The memory makes you wince.

The next few hours are spent checking in with Mr. Choi’s public relations agents. Thankfully, there don’t seem to be any scandals right now. Chul, one of the agents, is quick to remind you of the dating scandal that occurred when you first started working with Mr. Choi. You shudder at the memory. Fans had thought the two of you to be dating. Those rumors subsided within a few days, though. You remind Chul of that fact, but he just sends you an irritating smile that suggests this won’t be the last time you’re reminded of the scandal.

After that check-in, you take a short lunch break and then write up some notes for things to do this week. You check Mr. Choi’s email and arrange a few meetings—one of which will be a rather large advertisement campaign with a popular drink brand. By the time you’ve finished responding to all of his messages, it’s time to drive him to his lesson. You arrive fifteen minutes early, which gives you and your coworkers plenty of time to prepare the classroom. Before long, the lesson begins and you’re left to wait in the hallway.

When Mr. Choi walks by an hour and a half later, you’re quick to fall in step behind him. You have to keep some of his fans at bay when the two of you reach the elevator, but you manage to keep your distance today. The elevator doors close and your exhaustion hits you all at once. You place your fingers on your temple and close your eyes, suddenly feeling as if the fluorescent lights are searing into your vision. The elevator is far from smooth and you grasp the railing for support. The day has been passing rather quickly. You’ve kept yourself so busy that you haven’t had the time to think about your physical health. Now, you don’t have anything to occupy your time, and you’re forced to remember the exhaustion that has been present since this morning.

“You seem distracted.” You open your eyes, only to find that Mr. Choi is staring at you. You inhale harshly, realizing that you’ve essentially done what he tells his students to be an act of outright disrespect.

“Apologies, Mr. Choi,” you murmur. He sighs and adjusts his glasses. You want to feel embarrassed, but you can’t find the energy. You are a bit worried, however, that his beliefs surrounding students dozing off will extend to your impromptu rest in the elevator. What did he say in lessons today, again? “Dozing off is losing a fight to will. Sleeping in this class means that you have no respect for me as your teacher.” You grimace.

“I gave you permission to call me Chi-yeol,” your boss says, his insistent gaze morphing into a glare rather quickly. You stiffen at the reminder. Surely enough, a few days ago, he told you to use his first name. You hadn’t taken it seriously then—convinced that you heard him incorrectly. Apparently, you hadn’t misheard.

“Sorry,” you say, “Chi-yeol.” Chi-yeol seems momentarily convinced and you let your gaze fall to the electronic display in the elevator, waiting for it to fall to one. After a rather painful silence, the doors slide open and the two of you walk through the halls. As you make it out of the building and head towards the parking lot, you can’t help but be grateful that teachers—and you, by extension—get to park in the reserved lot on the other side of the building. You’re sure traffic would be insane otherwise. Chi-yeol only gets mobbed by fans before getting into the elevator. After that, he’s free from screaming fangirls.

As you approach the car, Chi-yeol moves towards the driver’s side—as if internally debating if he’s going to drive. You shake your head. “No, it’s fine,” you wave him off and leave him to his typical seat in the back. He shoots you a complex look but you’re too tired to figure out what it means. You instead focus on driving and, as a result, the drive back to his residence is smooth and painless. It’s certainly advantageous that you’ve driven this same route hundreds of times now, you think to yourself as you pull the car into the garage. You pull into the spot closest to the door and put the vehicle in park, before getting out of the car and pulling out your phone.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Choi asks. You look up from typing out the number to the taxi service you frequent and blink at him. You’re only doing what you do after every single night. Why is he even asking?

“Calling a cab-” You can’t even finish your sentence before your boss leans into your personal space, grabbing your phone and hanging up the call. You blink at him in disbelief. It admittedly takes you a few moments to process what he just did, but when you finally do, you’re pretty annoyed. “What was that for?”

“You’re in no condition to be traveling anywhere,” Chi-yeol responds seamlessly. He powers down your phone before handing it back to you. You take it and shove it in your pocket—clearly Chi-yeol doesn’t want you to use it right now. You’re amused by the irony in his statement—your boss is the absolute last person who should lecture anyone about their health.

“I was just going to go home-” You try to say, only for him to interrupt you again.

“I have a spare futon.” Well, you certainly weren’t expecting an offer like that. Furthermore, you weren’t expecting to hear a note of fond exasperation in his voice. You quickly disregard the fantastical notion that Chi-yeol even mildly tolerates you.

“Chi-yeol, I’m fine,” you say determinedly. For a moment, it almost seems like he believes you. However, Chi-yeol’s eyes remain locked on you and his eyebrows furrow. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Say that three more times.” You roll your eyes. He wants to see if you’re lying. Well, you’re not, so this should be easy. You inhale slowly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you say, struggling to keep your frustration from your voice. The more time you waste here, the less time you have to call a cab. It’s already getting late. By now, you’re typically in the taxi already. You’re just killing time by entertaining this conversation. “I’m fi-”

“Wrong,” the man interjects. He walks closer to his house and then looks back at you. You exhale slowly, eventually giving up on the argument and following him inside. Your boss leads you towards the island in the kitchen and you lay your palms flat against the counter, relieved with the cool temperature. Chi-yeol turns on the faucet and fills up a glass of water, presumably for himself. It takes you several seconds to realize that he’s holding it out to you instead of drinking it himself. You make sure to utter your gratitude before drinking it. Chi-yeol then pours a glass for himself and drinks it.

You’re not sure what to do or say. You feel incredibly awkward—you’re standing in your boss’s home, after all. It feels strangely intimate and you feel as if you shouldn’t be here. Maybe he just made the offer out of pity? Surely not. Chi-yeol doesn’t exactly feel pity for anyone, but… you suppose it could be possible. It’s more likely that he just wants you here- Well. Honestly, you’re not sure why he wants you here. When you think back to your first few days working with him, you remember thinking that he hated you. Now, you’re not as convinced.

“You need to rest.” Chi-yeol demands, after you’ve both been lingering in the kitchen for a little while. He places his glass of water down and you mimic the movement.

“Oh, no, I don’t want to impose,” You stammer, glancing around the rather luxurious space for anywhere you can sleep. The lounge looks rather uncomfortable, but you suppose you could sleep on the floor. You’re about to backpedal and make an excuse to leave, but Chi-yeol’s hands fall on your shoulders and he slowly pushes you towards the hallway. With his guidance, you walk into a bedroom. To your utter panic, there’s only one bed. It’s probably large enough to fit the both of you comfortably, but you’re sure he’s uncomfortable with that. You turn to look at Chi-yeol worriedly, but he shakes his head.

“I have a futon.” Chi-yeol explains, practically pushing you back towards the bed. You go along with his sudden pushiness and sit on the bed. “Now, rest.”

“But-”

“Just go to sleep.” He claps his hands together and, suddenly, the lights go out. You sit on the bed for a few seconds, before eventually giving in and getting under the covers. When you take a deep breath to try to calm yourself, you realize that everything smells like him [which is a weird observation that you internally berate yourself for]. You realize it must be the cologne he uses. Surprisingly, the scent is rather comforting. You remain flat on your back and stare up at the ceiling, a million thoughts racing through your head. Your eyelids start to feel heavy and you begin to forget everything else plaguing your mind. Just before you fall asleep, you swear you hear him whisper “Good night,” but you put it down to your imagination.

#defectivevillain #choi chi yeol #chi yeol x reader #chi yeol x gn reader #chi yeol x male reader #male reader #gn reader #transmasc reader #gender neutral reader #crash course in romance #choi chi yeol x reader

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ssozo · 1 year

Note

also 3 and 5 for tony

sickness and crying + tony/noa

content warnings: brief mention of vomiting

he's not sure what kind of illness it is, but whatever noa's caught, it's nasty.

tony has unwittingly become his bedside nurse, fetching soup and tea and tissues and whatever else noa has the coherency to request. his fever has stayed above 100 degrees the past two days, though he's luckily been able to sleep through most of it.

but it's sunday night, which means tony has work in the morning.

they haven't put a name on... whatever the fuck he and noa are. it's certainly not platonic, that's for damn sure. but they're not boyfriends. although tony would be hard-pressed to find a term that includes sticking around helping noa get to the bathroom for his nightly puking.

none of it got on him and that's what matters.

noa is tucked back into his bed, one cat curled up on his chest purring furiously and the other sitting on his dresser staring at tony with what he can only describe as begrudging acceptance.

"hey, i'm gonna head back to my apartment. i know you have my number, so just... call if you need me, okay?"

noa stares at him, wide-eyed.

"you're leaving?"

tony rubs the back of his head nervously.

"ah, yeah, i have work in the morning and-"

noa bursts into tears.

"woah- woah, hey, it's okay- okay i won't- i won't go, i promise, i'm right here-"

noa is still crying.

"look- i'll even call my boss right now and tell him i'm calling out for tomorrow. okay? i won't go anywhere."

true to his word, tony pulls out his phone and dials gibbs.

"it's late," is all gibbs opens with.

"yeah, i know. listen- i can't come into work tomorrow. i'm taking care of a friend."

silence on the other end.

"boss?"

more silence, and then gibbs finally speaks.

"sure. see you tuesday, dinozzo."

the dial tone plays and tony puts his phone down. he sighs and looks at noa, who has finally stopped crying.

"there. you have me for another 24 hours. do you need anything else?"

noa shakes his head no, and curls further into his cocoon of blankets and pillows. tony rests a hand on his forehead, just to check his temperature, and turns to the cat on noa's dresser.

the cat slow blinks at him.

#ozo writes #drabblecember #timothymcgees #si: noa #ship: rigatony #ozo mumbles

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itsthemoofacewriting · 2 years

Text

Is there space for one more?

So, this is all Ray, who basically word vomited this whole idea for an event we were going to collaborate on, which we didn’t finish in time because life happens. But then our SaNami server turned 1 a few days ago, so we finished our pieces to celebrate.

You can see Ray’s beautiful art for a scene here. Go and send some love!

This is for our server and all the lovely people that joined us. If you’d like to join us, you can do so here.

Summary: When Nami went home to visit her family, it was normally alone, sometimes she brought friends, but never a boyfriend. Until now. Rating: T

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN.

Enjoy!

“Right, Nojiko should be fine. She’s really friendly and she’ll probably tease but it won’t be nasty or anything!” Nami said, watching the trees blur passed out of the window. “It’s Genzo I’m not sure about.”

He could be so unpredictable when he wanted to be and with a boyfriend? She had nothing to go on. He’d never scared anyone off or told either of them not to date but she’d seen his critical gaze on anyone that could have been potential. So from what little she did know, Sanji would be assessed, that was for sure.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Sanji said, eyes on the road, his hand rubbed her leg in reassurance before returning to the steering wheel.

She hummed, unconvinced. “Maybe don’t swear or kiss me in front of him. Casual touches should be okay but let’s keep them to a minimum too.”

“You’re nervous,” he stated, his eyes flicking to her for a brief second.

He was right. She was.

“I’ve never done this before,” she admitted, resisting the urge to fidget, “and you’re nervous too! Just because you’re driving now doesn’t mean I didn’t see you adjust your cufflinks at least five times this morning.” Her tone turning accusing at the end but it didn’t faze Sanji.

“I know this means a lot to you but it’s your family and you haven’t seen them in a while. I want you to enjoy your time with them, so I’ll be nervous for the both of us.” He took a hand of the wheel, reaching out to find hers and bring it to his lips.

He knew she loved when he did that, even though they’d been together a while now, it made her stomach flutter, even if he had meant it as a soothing gesture this time around. Other times he just liked to see her blush.

She remembered when she’d asked him to come with her. He’d looked surprised initially before that’d melted into elation at the invitation. He’d tapered it down shortly after as he’d asked her more times than she could count if she was absolutely sure and that she could change her mind any time, that he could always come next time or when she was ready. It’d only made her even more sure because he knew what a big deal this was for her.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted him there, even before they’d started dating, it just hadn’t come up. Either one of them was working, or they were busy and then she hadn’t been home in a while anyway, so the opportunity hadn’t arisen. And okay fine, when they’d started dating, she was nervous – so that was another hurdle and another reason to make excuses. The only people that had met her family were Luffy and Zoro, so it wasn’t anything personal. When it’d just been her, Luffy and Zoro, Luffy had practically followed her there which of course brought Zoro along too. No one had minded and it’d just sort of happened.

And then when she’d started dating Sanji it’d been just before Christmas last year and even though they’d been friends before they’d got together, it was different. She wouldn’t be bringing a friend back; she would’ve been introducing a boyfriend, which was definitely far too soon to meet family. Especially when she was pretty sure this one would be sticking.

“What was it like when you brought Luffy and the directionless wonder back with you?” He asked, breaking her from her thoughts as he indicated left.

“It went alright to be honest, Nojiko gets along with just about anyone.”

“And Genzo?” It was said casually but she knew that was where his own nerves lay.

“Luffy and Genzo don’t have a lot in common but they get along. It’s Luffy at the end of the day, have you ever met someone that doesn’t like him?” He nodded at that. Everywhere they went, Luffy would inevitably make a new friend. “Zoro and Genzo, on the other hand, the moment they realised they both had an appreciation of swords, that’s all they’d spent the rest of their time talking about. No one could get a word in edgewise.”

She hadn’t really given any thought to her words until she noted the glint in his eyes.

“No,” she said bluntly, “this isn’t some weird competition between you and Zoro!”

His smiler was sharper than before, eyes determined and it was too late. The imaginary challenge had been set as he said, “There’s no competition at all. If Genzo can get along with him then I have nothing to worry about.”

***

Nami had never had a big family. She couldn’t even remember her life before Bell-mere, before Bell-mere had chosen her, to keep and love her. It’d always just been her, Bell-mere, Nojiko and Genzo. Sure, their celebrations- birthdays, Christmas’, New Years’- had been a quiet affair but they’d been filled with laughter and joy, some of her best memories.

When they’d lost Bell-mere, they’d all been devasted but it had only brought them closer together.

It made her treasure them even more than she already had.

She supposed that was why this was such a big deal, why she was so nervous. Friends were different. Sure, she wanted them to get along with her family because these were all people she loved. But a boyfriend, a romantic partner, was huge.

And this was Sanji. Despite the little flutter of panic in her lungs when she thought about it (it was getting smaller over time and hey, that was progress), she was sure he was it. Years of friendship and the slow simmering that eventually boiled over into a romantic relationship and she’d never felt this way about someone before. She hadn’t had many relationships but the one’s she had were nothing like this.

So despite their earlier conversation and his soothing words, this was huge for her. She wanted him to join her little family, carve a space out for himself because that was the only option. She needed this to work.

A lot was riding on this to the point that any logical thinking wasn’t being considered. Like how Sanji knew this was important to her. How he was one of the most sociable and downright pleasant people she knew. That he also came from a small family (bigger than hers but still). That he would make this work because he made it clear daily how much she meant to him.

But, as she said, it didn’t soothe her stomach that was knotting itself tighter and tighter by the second as he drove them closer to her home. The city was long gone, any wisps of buildings and concrete replaced with foliage and expansive fields as they travelled further into the countryside and it wouldn’t be long until they reached the turning for her village.

The turning came sooner than she expected and she took in the familiar sight of houses, all lined up next to one another, connected by little dirt paths.

Nothing had changed and it made her feel warm for the village she grew up in. People were milling about, children kicking a ball around and, in the distance, she could see the water. She knew there’d be fisherman lined up along the pier and stalls nearby with fresh fish. She’d have to take Sanji later, he’d love it.

“Hey, is it a left up ahead?” Sanji softly spoke, gently breaking her from her observations.

“Yeah, next left and then it’s straight ahead.”

Flicking his indicator on for no one, he turned onto a familiar beaten dirt path, smaller than the others in the village. It was a winding road that led to the outskirts of the village. Despite her nerves, she was excited too, it’d been longer than she normally liked to leave it since she last went home and she couldn’t wait to see Genzo and Nojiko.

They came to a stop in front of her house, the engine turning off and as desperate as she was to stretch her legs, she didn’t move.

“Ready to go or do you want a minute?” He asked, sliding his seatbelt off but not making a move to open the door or take the keys out of the ignition.

He was so considerate and she couldn’t remember ever being looked after so well by someone as she was with him. She smiled at him, undoing her own seatbelt. “Let’s go.”

He stopped her from leaving by taking her hand into his and lips kissing the back of her hand, lingering there. “On the hand for now, in case he’s looking through the net curtains,” he joked and it settled her nerves.

She snorted, humoured by his words but also trying to push down the butterflies in her stomach because it’d been over a year already, they’d slept together numerous times for god’s sake, a kiss to the back of her hand shouldn’t still make her feel all giddy.

He pulled away a moment later, all joking gone as he told her, “I’ll make sure it goes well.”

“I know.” She really wanted to kiss him, cup his jaw and kiss him but now wasn’t the time, so instead, she squeezed his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

***

She rang the doorbell and as she waited, she gave Sanji another once over from head to toe, like he wasn’t dressed immaculately. She’d talked him down this morning from a three-piece suit, insisting that this wasn’t formal and they’d compromised on no waistcoat but a jacket, shirt and tie. Which was still quite smart but if anyone could make a suit look like casual everyday wear, it would be him.

Also, it was another reminder that he was adamant about making a good first impression.

The door opened with Nojiko greeting them, Genzo behind her and the next few minutes were a flurry of hugs and introductions. As Nojiko squeezed her she watched eagle eyed as Sanji shook Genzo’s hand and started their own conversation.

“Thank you for having me,” Sanji said, manners already kicking in.

“You’re welcome,” he replied and gave Sanji a quick once over. So she was right, assessed from the get go. “So, how did you and Nami meet?”

“We met through Luffy a few years ago.”

She saw the way Genzo relaxed slightly at the mention of Luffy and she’d always wondered what exactly happened between those two as Genzo seemed to trust him explicitly. Whenever she’d tried to dig around it, Luffy had always been so tight lipped about it, changing the topic with little finesse and Genzo wouldn’t even entertain the thought, as if it didn’t exist.

Nojiko and Genzo swapped once Nami had finally been released and Nami’s view of Sanji was blocked as Genzo wrapped her in a hug.

“How was the drive?” Genzo asked, as he released her but kept a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah good, we sailed through.” They’d left mid-morning to spend the afternoon, before leaving in the evening to visit Zeff.

“Did you see the pier and the market? It’s busier than when you last visited, we even have people from other villages coming down for it,” Genzo boasted. Even though the village was tiny, everyone had long since nominated him as the mayor and she had no doubt he’d poured a lot of effort into growing it.

“We didn’t come in that way but I saw it off in the distance. I thought I’d show Sanji later on-” the hand on the small of her back made her pause and she smiled when it was just Sanji coming to stand next to her, Nojiko joining them too- “he likes a market, especially when it’s local produce.”

“Oh really?” Genzo asked.

Sanji nodded and she explained, “Yeah, he’s a chef, likes it for meals.”

“Of course, Nami told me you’re chef,” Nojiko interjected after being a bit too quiet and her smile curled. “Fancy getting your hands dirty or worried you’ll ruin your fancy suit?”

Nami snorted at Nojiko’s playful jab, knowing she didn’t actually want the help and would just use it as an excuse to tease him later. Any attempts to help would be waved off, except she didn’t know Sanji well enough.

“Absolutely,” Sanji replied eagerly, face lighting up at the invitation, serious or not. His jacket off in the next second and he’d started rolling one of his sleeves up to his elbows. “What can I help with?”

Nojiko and Genzo’s eyebrows flew up and Nami laughed at their faces.

“Here, give me your jacket and I’ll put it away for you,” Nami offered, hands already taking his suit jacket and freeing him up to start rolling the other sleeve up. “The kitchen’s that way.” She pointed to the door through the lounge.

“Thank you, I’ll see you in a bit.” He wanted to kiss her cheek; she could see it written all over his face but he held himself back.

“Shall we?” Sanji asked a stunned Nojiko, hand extended out for her to lead the way and she only nodded in response, bewildered. It was only when they were close to the kitchen that she heard Nojiko explaining that he didn’t really need to help but he politely dismissed her words.

Which left Genzo and Nami in the lounge, just the two of them. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sanji really loves cooking, it’s not just a job to him.”

Genzo nodded, which she suspected was more to himself than to her and she knew that had won Sanji a point in his good books.

***

Although Nami had offered to take Sanji’s jacket, it was Genzo in the end who took both of their jackets, which left her with a few minutes to spare alone in the lounge. She wandered through, looking at the familiar framed photos on the shelves from her youth but what caught her attention was a laugh from the kitchen. It was Nojiko.

Unable to resist, she drifted over until she was stood in the kitchen doorframe, the door open, and watched as Sanji and Nojiko worked side by side. They’d only been at it for a few minutes but they seemed to have found a rhythm. Even though Sanji ran a restaurant, he’d never had a problem with letting someone else lead.

They were working at the unit in the centre of the kitchen, their backs towards the door, so she didn’t have to worry about being immediately seen. She couldn’t see what they were doing without moving closer but she could hear chopping and based on how quickly the knife was moving, that was Sanji.

From just his back, he looked relaxed, and not just because he was in his element but because they were talking back and forth. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, she strained to listen but the distance and the activity in the kitchen muffled their voices.

It brought a soft smile to her face. Seeing two of her favourite people work together and quietly chat amongst themselves whilst they did. It was so domestic and everything she could have hoped for. Although she’d never worried (too much) about Nojiko, she was too similar to herself for Sanji not to get along with her. Yet, the proof of it before her still made her happy. It was exactly what she wanted and was enough reassurance to know that the day would go smoothly.

She was tempted to join them or at least pretend to be getting something from the kitchen so she could earwig. Maybe she needed a drink? It wasn’t like anyone had offered yet, which was-

A cough startled her out of her thoughts and when she turned, Genzo was standing a few feet behind her, eyebrow raised and smile on his face. She flushed at getting caught staring but she wasn’t about to start explaining herself, it’d only make it worse.

Instead, she asked, “How’s Nako?”

Which seemed to be the right thing to say as it took the attention off of her. They moved to the sofa to talk and Genzo was soon telling her about the village. About some people that had moved out, a couple that got married recently and eventually, some of the children that were now giving him grief.

They were interrupted when they heard Nojiko’s playful tone from the kitchen “-and you can’t keep hiding in here, out you go!”

Sanji smiled at he appeared in the living room, a wine in one hand and a beer in the other. Both her and Genzo’s favourite, Nojiko must have given it to him.

After passing Genzo his drink, he sat down next to Nami, his arm resting behind her on the back of the sofa. “What are we talking about in here?”

“Genzo was catching me up on the village. Apparently, there’s some boys giving him a run for his money now.”

Genzo snorted and shook his head, “They have nothing on Nami when she was younger.”

She rolled her eyes at that and she knew Genzo was gearing up for a story. He may complain, but he loved it back then and he still did now.

“Sneaking out in the middle of the night, sometimes to wander around, sometimes to steal a book from the local shop-”

“I returned those books once I was done with them!”

“It wasn’t a library!”

She rolled her eyes, already more than familiar with this line of conversation. “I’ll have you know, some of those were definitely Nojiko’s idea.”

Genzo ignored her, “And then she came home one day with a new tattoo after convincing Nako that I’d agreed to it.”

“What he’s not telling you is that he cried when she did,” Nojiko said, leaning against the kitchen door frame and catching the tail end of their conversation.

“I did not!”

“He’ll say it’s because of the tattoo but we swear it’s because of the honourable mention,” Nojiko told them and Nami laughed, because whilst Genzo tried to act tough, he was an absolute softy. She knew he was touched.

“Oh, the pinwheel right?” Sanji asked, like he didn’t already know.

Sanji had asked about her tattoo fairly early on in their friendship and when they got together, his fingers spent a lot of time tracing over the ink.

Nojiko laughed, already knowing what was coming and it ended up being both her and Genzo that recited the story from when Nami was a baby.

When the conversation came a natural end, Sanji pipped up, saying to Genzo, “Nami tells me you have a sword collection.”

Genzo brightened at his words. “I do, are you interested in swords? Nami’s friend is.”

“Maybe not quite as much as Zoro-” she wondered how much that pained him to say his name “-but I’d love to see them.”

Genzo didn’t need much more encouragement than that, he was on his feet and ready to lead the way.

“Come on, Nami, you can spend some time with me. I doubt you need to hear this again.” Nojiko said, head tilting towards the kitchen and she was happy for the save. She’d heard enough about this when Zoro came over.

As they both started to walk down the hallway that led to upstairs, she could hear Sanji telling Genzo about the Damascus knife she’d bought him recently. Yeah, they’d be fine.

***

She’d been catching up with Nojiko in the kitchen, stirring whatever she was told to stir whilst telling her about her job and friends. When Nojiko had mentioned about wanting a jumper, she’d offered to go and get one for her. She might have also had an ulterior motive of snooping, but no one needed to know that.

The last she knew, Genzo and Sanji were going to look at his sword collection so she’d been sure to approach the room carefully, watching out for any creaking floorboards.

“- I have a gun you know.” She overheard Genzo say.

That brought her to an abrupt halt, since when did Genzo have a gun collection? Since when would Sanji be interested in that? Maybe he was humouring him? She hung back a second without really thinking about it, hidden by the wall to listen to their conversation.

“If I ever mess this up, you should use it. Although I can assure you, you don’t need to start working on your aim. For this to end, it’d be her decision long before it’s mine.”

“She’s never brought someone home before.”

… Was he giving Sanji the shovel talk? Is this what she’d walked in on?

“I know and I’m honoured it’s me, I haven’t taken this lightly.”

Genzo hummed but stayed silent.

“I don’t know how much you know, but I’ve wanted this for a long time, pretty much from the day I met her. I just knew, she’s the best person I’ve ever met and will ever meet.” Nami smiled to herself, his voice was fond and he was such a sap. He’d told her this before but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like hearing it again.

More silence and she was desperate to see their faces, were they staring each other down? She couldn’t give up her hiding spot though, she wanted to know how this ended.

“You still need to ask for my blessing,” Genzo told him firmly and her stomach dropped.

She would kill Genzo. He was talking to Sanji about marriage the first time meeting him. If it were any other guy, she’d probably be worried about scaring them off.

“I don’t think Nami’s ready for marriage yet but when she is, I’d want to do it properly anyway.” Another pause. “I want to spend my life making her happy,” he said earnestly.

He was a good egg. Her heart warmed as she thought about how lucky she was to have him. She wasn’t sure she was ready for marriage yet, but perhaps moving in together would be a step in the right direction.

Genzo hummed and although she couldn’t see him, she knew he’d be nodding.

“Then I leave her with the Strawhat boy and you.”

Well damn, if that wasn’t approval, then she didn’t know what was. She may not know what the deal between Luffy and Genzo was but to put Sanji in the same category was acceptance and trust. She could feel the grin splitting across her face because although she’d relaxed hours ago after arriving, it felt like the last puzzle piece had just slotted into place.

She heard a faint slapping sound, which she suspected was Genzo patting him on the shoulder and she took that as her cue to leave before she was spotted.

***

When Nami returned to the kitchen, trying not to seem too giddy with the jumper in hand, Nojiko was getting the plates out ready to serve up. Nami worked around her, taking any pots and pans that were emptied and filling them with water to let them soak.

“He’s a good guy,” Nojiko broke the silence and stopped what she was doing for a moment.

“Nojiko,” Nami groaned, anticipating teasing.

“No, really. I thought maybe he was a bit smooth at first but it’s obvious he’s got eyes for no one but you. When he was helping me in the kitchen, no matter what I asked him or what we were talking about, he always managed to bring you up.”

That didn’t surprise Nami at all.

“I’m really happy for you and I’m pretty sure Genzo likes him.” Nojiko paused, looking like she was contemplating her next words more before giving in, “Bell-mère would have loved him.”

“Thanks, Nojiko.” She was fighting down the urge to beam at her sister, she knew that would definitely get her teased.

“Now, go and get them, we’re almost ready here.”

Nami swiped a piece of food on the way out and she just dodged a smack from the towel, laughing as she made her way to the door.

She wondered if they’d be back yet from their chat, it sounded like they were close to being done when she’d left them. That was soon confirmed when she heard their voices from the lounge.

“-it was adorable, most children would have security blankets but she just carried this book around with her. It had no photos; it was all text and it was the first book she learned to read!” Genzo boasted.

“Oh and this was probably around the time she was thirteen-”

Thirteen? Were they talking about her?

“-she still had that book and could probably recite it word for word but she didn’t carry it with her anymore-”

No, no, no, they were talking about her and her stomach dropped, she already knew what she was about to walk into.

She rounded the corner and, to her horror, Genzo was sat next to Sanji with their family photo album open.

“Genzo!” She snapped, striding towards them to snatch the photo album out of his hands and snap it shut.

But the damage was done.

“Nami~” Sanji crooned, getting up from next to Genzo and wrapping her in a hug that felt far too condescending. “You were so cute!”

She could feel the flush working from the tips of her toes and reaching all the way up to her roots. Sure, she’d known Sanji for years and he was her other half but still! That did not mean he needed to see embarrassing childhood photos. What made it worse was Genzo’s laugh and Sanji’s cooing in her ear.

“You haven’t seen the baby photos yet!”

“Dinner, let’s go and if I see any more photo books, you’re both in for it!” She barked, dragging Sanji along with her whilst he babbled more ridiculous things, Genzo on her tail and the photo album firmly in her grasp.

She couldn’t be too angry though, embarrassed sure, but not angry when it was clear Sanji and Genzo were getting along. He wouldn’t have shown Sanji the photos if he didn’t like him.

She would be keeping a keen eye out for any photo albums though.

***

Sanji had ushered her away from the mess in the kitchen so she could spend more time with her family and bless his heart for being so considerate but after twenty minutes she excused herself to check on him in the kitchen.

He hadn’t heard her approach, his back to her as he moved through the easy pieces to wash, the tougher pots and trays currently on the side for extra time to soak. He was humming to himself, seemingly enjoying it, something she’d never quite understood.

As she watched him, their day with her family washed over her. From helping Nojiko cook, finding common ground with Genzo (She didn’t know which was worse: all the talking about swords and blades or the football discussion that’d happened after dinner, another shared interest), their mid-afternoon walk through the orchards and town- showing Sanji the few sights in their little village.

And how he’d found his place in their little family.

He’d done it so easily, like breathing and she loved him so much.

Her legs moved before she could give it a second thought, arms winding around his waist and burying her face into the fabric of his shirt on his back. There was a clattering as he put the plate in the sink and his hands found hers on his stomach, water and bubbles wetting her skin. She didn’t mind, his hands were warm from the water.

“Hey, you okay?”

She didn’t look up from his back but her arms tightened around him as she said, “Thank you. For today.”

They only had until this evening and then they’d be travelling to see Zeff and the others, their bags packed in the car. Sanji had tried pushing for two days at hers, regardless of whether he stayed but she’d waved it off. She wanted to see Zeff. She would be coming back to see her family in a few weeks anyway, so it was fine.

His hand ran along the length of her arm and his fingers found the gaps in between hers for a moment before he pried her arms loose so that he could turn and gather her up in his arms. His head rested on the top of hers and he was so warm.

“I’m having a good time, are you?”

“Yeah, it’s been nice.” It had, seeing her favourite people get along and she’d missed her family. She wouldn’t leave it so long again.

“Nervous for Zeff?”

She snorted. “Firstly, I’ve already met him and there’s no doubt he loves me. Secondly, even if I hadn’t met him yet, he raised you, the biggest softy with women, so I’d be fine.”

He laughed lightly, hands brushing the small of her back. “Softest for you though.”

“Mhm, although I prefer when you’re hardest for me,” she teased, eyes half lidded and giving him a look she knew he couldn’t resist.

His arms tightened around her and when his eyes dropped to her lips, she met him halfway for a kiss. She leaned into it after missing his normal affections for the better part of the day, it made her realise how much they touched.

It may not have been such a good idea to lean into it because Sanji hardly ever needed any encouragement. What should have been a quick kiss turned lingering and when they did part, his lips soon found hers again. And sue her, maybe she was the one that instigated open mouth kisses but he was the one that introduced tongue.

“No canoodling in the kitchen! You’ve already used up your quota with your other boyfriends,” Nojiko called from the lounge and she wondered if her sister had a sixth sense. Or maybe she’d been gone for too long.

“That was you!” Nami called back, arms still around Sanji and his didn’t look to be moving any time soon either.

She heard Genzo’s muted “What?” in the background and that shut Nojiko up.

“Other boyfriends, huh? I thought I was special? I’m wounded Nami,” Sanji said theatrically, one of his hands leaving the small of her back to clutch at his heart.

“She’s being a shit and she knows it.”

“As long as I’m your favourite.”

“Don’t mention the baby photos again and you’ve got a deal,” she teased. She’d gone to the toilet for two minutes and came back to see the three of them huddled around another photo album.

“That’s cruel. You were the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.” His arm settled back around her and one of them traced the line of her spine. “I’d have loved you back then too, I had a thing for short orange hair and braces. I’d have bought you so many books to woo you.”

She blushed and had to resist the urge to pout, it wouldn’t help her case. “I’m going to make Zeff tell me so many embarrassing stories about you!”

“Nothing gets worse than ‘little eggplant’.”

“We’ll see, little eggplant.”

He grinned at her, already more than used to her using his childhood name against him but it turned softer with his next words.

“I really like your family,” he told her. “They’re so warm.”

“They like you too.” He beamed down at her and she continued, “You can come with me next time if you want?”

“Yeah? I’d love that.”

“Good. Now let’s finish this and we can join the others before Genzo starts snoring.”

With a lingering kiss on her forehead, they parted to finish the washing up.

***

They were saying their goodbyes at the door after a full ten minutes of Genzo trying to convince them to stay the night and leave in the morning. Sanji had folded almost instantly, like she’d expected him to, but Zeff was waiting for them and it was only an hour away from the village.

After her quick goodbye with Nojiko, Genzo swept her up into a hug, making it seem like she was leaving for good and this was exactly why she tried slipping out casually at the end of visits.

“Drive safely, text me when you get there and I’ll see you soon?” He recited as he let her go.

“I will do and I’ll see you in a few weeks, promise.”

“Maybe you can come too, Sanji?” Nojiko asked.

Before either Nami or Sanji could confirm that he would be, that they’d already discussed it in the kitchen, Genzo’s hand came down on Sanji’s shoulder.

“Absolutely, I think the football would have started by then too.”

And as much as Nami internally groaned at the thought of having to sit through football, it confirmed everything she’d seen throughout the day.

Sanji had made a place for himself in her family.

---------------------------------------------

I remember from Arlong Park that Genzo had a weapon collection that almost got him killed by Arlong, so I HC that he would have a sword collection.

I was with someone that didn’t get along with my family, it was awful, no matter how hard my family tried.

As always, please excuse any mistakes.

Thanks for reading.

#SaNami #SanNami #SaNa #namixsanji #opfanfic #opwriting #Sanji #Nami #Genzo #Nojiko #OnePiece

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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

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sasukessockdrawer · 3 years

Text

Studying❤️

How these guys/gals would study during a study date.

Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Momo Yaoyorozu, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima

Warnings: Just fluff❤️❤️

Izuku Midoriya

Definitely had to work up the confidence to ask you out, but he did.

This mans is the king of word vomit.

Had a whole plan written down on how he was going to do it.

He did not go by plan and went by whatever came out of his mouth.

“Do you uh- well, um- no, oh my god, will you help me study for the final? I need help and I want to spend time with you.”

His lil’ smile afterwards because he’s so proud that he did it.

How could you resist?

A complete mess when it comes to mathematics though.

“How are you so good at this? Geometry is just shapes!” Midoriya groans, his hands clutching onto his thick hair. You can’t help but giggle at his stressed form. He wasn’t even doing that bad, he just needed a little extra explaining.

“I’m not, it’s just a lot of practice and rereading honestly.” You trail at the end not wanting to give away that you were probably worse off than he was at the subject. You were ecstatic when he had asked you to study with him. Everyone wanted to be his study partner so when he asked you it was flattering… which is why you felt you couldn’t say no.

“Practice? Like training? I guess I had never thought about it like that before.” You giggled at the way his brain instantly paired his studying to hero work.

“I guess you could say that. That’s why I’m barely getting by. Just practice.” You sigh softly, letting your guard down for a brief moment. Midoriya is quick though and grabs hold of the moment.

“What? You’re literally one of the smartest people I know in our class! You literally help tutor Todoroki in English! Not only that, but you are always so fast to catch things. I really adore that about you.” Your eyes grow wide at the compliment for a moment before you giggle at the thought of Todoroki’s one weakness being verbs. Midoriya reaches his hand over and takes yours. His eyes shine brightly before giving it a soft squeeze. Your cheeks turn a bright pink before he lets go, making sure your pinkies still touched.

“Anyways,” he nervously clears his throat. “So problem 6-.”

Katsuki Bakugo:

Chaos, pure chaos.

He really, and I mean REALLY wanted to ask you out, but could not find a way how.

He feels emotions, and he feels them strongly. He just uses anger to express them.

Which is why when he asked you out on a study date, it was more of a statement.

“So are we going to study together or what?” “Why wouldn’t it be a date, dumb loser”

“I’ll meet you at the library after last class, don’t be late I don’t want to wait for you.”

Literally waits anyways to walk you there.

“I got out of class early so I had no choice but to wait.”

You’re literally in the same last class. No he didn’t.

“Why do I need this stupid stuff anyways? I’m never going to need to know why the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell!” Bakugo yells while standing up. You try not to laugh at the situation but his face is red over a Biological term. The angry librarian looks over again with a more stern “shh.” Bakugo looks over at you and sighs, sitting back down. He mumbles something before picking up his pencil again.

“You can forget it afterwards, but just know if you don’t pass this class you can’t move onto your next step in being the next number one hero.” You remind him tapping your pencil to your head. He stops everything he’s doing to look up at you. Just when you think he’s going to blow up, he grins.

“So you think I can beat dunceface and be the number one hero?” Bakugo can feel his heart racing at the thought of your encouragement. Instead of screaming though, he wants to curl up and smile. For once, he feels more calm than usual.

“I think you’re powerful enough, but you have to pass this class if you want it.” You remind him. He groans and flings his head back. The librarian glares over again as he sticks his tongue out at her.

“Next time we should go somewhere outside to study.” You suggest looking at him, trying not to giggle.

“Next time?” Bakugo’s attention is suddenly all on you and he can’t help the goofy grin plastered on his face. “Just don’t be late. I hate that.”

Momo Yaoyorozu:

The literal sweetest ever when asking if you wanted to come over to study.

Made sure she got all of your favorite snacks prepared.

Made sure she knew whether you preferred tea, coffee, or any juice.

Saw you struggling while studying for the upcoming final.

“Hey, if you’re free tomorrow evening we should study together!”

Girl was nervous, her palms were sweating.

You sat, completely amazed at the array of snacks that sat in front of you. When Momo asked you for a list you didn’t expect her to get every single item. A small blush appearing on her cheeks as she watched you stare at the items.

“I-I didn’t want it to not be enough.” Momo states softly, shoving her hands in her pockets nervously. Suddenly, you wondered if it wasn’t just studying that encouraged Momo to ask you.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You smile setting your book bag down to turn around and hug her. She wraps her arms around your torso and you can feel her smile into the hug. After embracing you walk over to your bag and pull out the notes for your final. Momo sits in the seat beside you, the small blush never leaving her face.

“Thank you for inviting me, I really hope we can do this again. Not just for the snacks, but I really like spending time with you.” You smile causing her face to now turn a bright red.

“Oh- it’s no problem, I really… I really enjoy spending time with you too.” She responds, looking down into her lap. “We can do this again, except it doesn’t have to be studying! Momo offers, her smile never leaving her face.

Shoto Todoroki:

At first you thought he was just glaring you down.

In reality it’s just him trying to figure out what he’s feeling and how he should act on it.

Mans is blunt. #noregrets

“I think you’re very attractive and smart, please help me study.”

Cannot tell a verb from a noun. I still struggle with verbs too oops

Wonders if he’ll actually need English anyways?

Realizes he may have to help other people who speak different languages.

Admires the fact that you know what you’re talking about.

“So if I were to tell you something then that would be classified as a verb.” You explain, pushing your hair back for what felt like the millionth time. Of all days your ponytail holder decided it was going to fail you, today was the day. It was on the verge of breaking, but not quite there yet, and you didn’t have time to go home before helping Shoto with homework.

“So then…” Shoto trails, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The verb is the action, right?” He stares at the paper before looking back up at you with a very intense stare. Your face burns a bright red, wondering why he was trying so hard to understand this. It wasn’t like he necessarily needed to fully understand them, just kind of grasp it. “If I ask you out then the asking part would be the verb?” Shoto asks and your heart drops.

“Y-yeah.” You stutter, trying to get him to drop the intense stare.

“Oh, that makes more sense. I still don’t fully understand though. Maybe you need to tutor me ever day.” Shoto says, a sly smirk now playing at his lips.

“I’d like that.” You say, hair falling into your face yet again. Shoto reaches over this time, catching the stray hair to push it back.

“It’s a date then.”

Eijiro Kirishima:

You had to ask.

He’s a sweet man but he is so so clueless.

You literally would hang out after class, sit together at meal times, hang around during break periods, you would both flirt all the time, and he still HAD NO IDEA.

It’s okay though because he returns those feelings hardcore.

Bakugo is so so so tired of hearing him talk about you.

“Just ask them out and leave me alone!” “But dude, I can’t”

He’s so glad you did it.

“So this is literally my favorite cafe to go to. I think you’ll love it.” He says holding the door open for you. You walk in, feeling defeated. Yeah, you guys were finally hanging out outside of the academy, but it didn’t feel like a date. The amount of times he had called you “dude” or “bro” made you wonder if he even had feelings for you at all.

After ordering, the two of you sat down and Kirishima gives you a worried glance. “(Y/N) are you okay?” He asks pulling out the textbook. You sigh and nod, agreeing that having even a little alone time is nice.

“You’re really quiet, and it’s not like the typical kind of quiet either. Did I do something wrong?” His question, stops you in your tracks. You sigh again, this time for confidence.

“Kiri, listen. You are one of the closest friends that I’ve made at UA. The thing is, I don’t want to ruin that friendship we have, but I wanted this hangout to be more than that. I really wanted it to be a date…” You trail at the end, every bit of confidence leaving your body. The silence is scary, but the grin that forms on his face says otherwise.

“Ah, man. I’m so glad you said that. I literally had no idea how to ask you out. So we can officially calm this a study date?” Kiri asks, tilting his head to the side a little.

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely a date.” You grin back, reaching across the table to take his hand.

#izuku midoria x reader #bakugou x reader #momo yaoyorozu #shoto fluff #shoto todoroki #eijiro kirishima x y/n #bnha eijiro kirishima #bnha imagines

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twiddle-dee-twiddle-dumb · 3 years

Text

A/N: Ohohohoho word vomit, Toshi was really nagging in the back of my brain. So here it is... along with Mr. Hey Hey Hey Kotaro. I don't really know whether I've gotten better at writing. Still, I hope you enjoy though.

HAIKYU! BOYS & S/O ARGUED BEFORE AN IMPORTANT EVENT

Wakatoshi Ushijima

It’s rare for Ushijima to be silent whenever he really has something to say. He’s always been upfront. He always says what’s on his mind even if you may or may not like it. Of course, honesty and being genuine really helped you all through out your relationship. Yet, it’s different this time. He’s awfully quiet (like really, really, really quiet). He’s not even sparing you a glance across the living room. It looked like something’s brewing inside him and you can’t figure out what.

“Love, come on. Talk.”, you told him while standing on the doorway. You are wearing your work clothes except for the doctor’s coat that’s on your arm. Your shift’s about to start in two hours but you need to be at the hospital an hour before for the endorsements and other stuffs. “Babe…” you pleaded once more as you try to coax him to say something. But no avail. He just shifted on his seat, his eyes focusing on the tv screen. You sighed.

“Toshi, I’m really sorry about this. I didn’t know this would happen, that I would replace another doctor’s shift—” you mumbled on his neck as you hugged him in his seat. "Because you forgot to block your schedule for the next day." He said, cutting you off. It felt like cold water was splashed down on you. You can’t help but sigh in resignation. “I’m sorry.” That’s all you can say because it really is your fault this time.

Wakatoshi told you to clear your schedule a week ago before you shuffle shifts for the week. He knew that a doctor’s working schedule is erratic. That there some days and nights that you’re not going to be home and you’ll rarely see each other. There are some days that you and Toshi can spend more time together. He knew, that is why he asked you beforehand. “Yeah, sure babe.”, you agreed. You saw his rare boyish grin. However, you had a busy day at work and it slipped your mind.

“I’m really sorry, babe. I promise I’ll be there. I’ll really, really try hard to be there tomorrow. But I got to go. Love you.” You reassured him one last time then gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek. You rushed out the door. As much as you hate to leave your sulking husband, you have to. You pledge to do everything with chosen profession. Honestly, you felt terrible but you know better than to bring personal problems at work. Wakatoshi heard the door closed as you went out. He doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or frustrated. He’s really looking forward that Sunday brunch because your parents are going to be there.

You arrived at work but your mind seems to fling back to the look you last saw on Ushijima. You can’t help but internally berate yourself for absolutely forgetting. You shrugged the thoughts off as you finished reading/studying the patient’s chart. You’ll make your morning rounds in a few hours and you’re starting to get dizzy from all the hospital buzz. You found it unusual so you decided to get it checked.

Your shift ended 30 minutes before the brunch so you just texted Toshi that you’ll just meet him there and that the both of you have things to discuss. He just replied “ok”. O-K, two letters. As much as it frustrates you, you cannot do anything about it since you’re kind of at fault here. Now you got to make it up to him and you just know the perfect thing to do.

You arrived at the venue, both of your parents and Toshi are already there. You went to place a chaste kiss to your husband and greeted your parents after. In the middle of the small gathering, your parents pointed out that both you look awkward and seems to be having a problem. There is no point denying it since your parents already saw it through. They gave you guidance and advices, as you admit that it was your mistake. To make it up for everyone especially Toshi, you handed them white envelops.

Your lips pursed in anticipation and preventing a grin. You witnessed how their reactions changed from confusion to surprised to elation. Your mother was crying. Both of your dads are teary eyed. Your darling husband, oh the man’s got stuck on his seat, his left hand tightly holding the paper.

“Are you serious?” he asked you, still trying to wrap the information in his head. “Oh, so you know how to talk?” you teased him which earned you a grunt from him. “Of course! Laboratory tests results don’t lie. I was thinking of using peed on tests but I figured laboratory tests would be more reliable plus it’s free since I work there.” You quickly supplied as you gobble up the fruits on your plate.

Wakatoshi pulled you for a kiss and a hug along with the murmurs of ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m gonna be a dad.’.

Indeed, it was a great make up gift to your then disappointed husband.

Kotaru Bokuto

All through out your relationship with Bokuto is nothing but perfect. Perfect in a sense that you are equal in everything, he has been a reliable and responsible partner to you as you are to him. You balance out each other. Since the beginning of your relationship—when you first met and become acquainted—to the whole marriage and building a home with you, he has been a stable partner despite his ‘antics’. Bokuto has his tendency to mess up but he always gets back up. He has these weaknesses (per Akaashi) but he always comes around to make up for it. You know all these things about him and you love him no less.

There is no perfect relationship and couple fights are not uncommon especially to the two of you. The only catch is that the both of you are willing not to sleep on it until you’ve come up to a resolution. The biggest fight you had is when Bokuto tried to act up because your schedules didn’t permit you to see him before he left for a game—this way back before you had your first child. You almost call everything off. You were just so overwhelmed with the marriage, the pregnancy (which Kou didn’t know about yet), and work. So, it ended in a huge fight that was resolved three days later. Since then, the both of you are trying to not make disagreements into arguments. But not this time…

You just arrived from the business trip. You had a long day and receiving the news from the teacher that Bokuto didn’t show up for the meeting just makes you want to pull your hair out in frustration. Bokuto met up with you in the doorway and tried to kiss you but you moved away. You went to your bedroom and changed. Bokuto followed you with a pout.

“Not now, Kou. I’m not happy with you right now.” you said as you do your nightly routine. “Baby why? Did I do something? You just got back from work. I took care of the house and our son. What did I do wrong?” Bokuto was utterly confused.

“Really now, Kou?” you spat, crossing your hands on your chest. “No, baby, I really have no idea.” Bokuto insisted calmly.

“Kou! You told me you’d attend the teacher’s meeting today but you didn’t! I found because the teacher texted me and I have to freaking call her just to apologize and to be informed what went on with the meeting. Ugh…! You… I just can’t with you right now.” you groaned in frustration. You recalled the moment you read the teacher’s message as you drive your way home. It turns out that that meeting was for the parents of the kids that’s going to finish the school term with special distinction and your husband was no show. You also recalled how tight you gripped the steering wheel that your knuckles turned white.

Kou’s expression changed like he remembered something he forgot about which fueled your anger more.

“You forgot?! You freaking forgot?! What the crap!” your voice went an octave higher and scoffed in disbelief. “Kou, I can’t believe you!” you said before Kotarou could retort because at the moment he’s at loss for words. He indeed forgot.

You are fuming. Despite how busy you were, you reminded him and he still forgot. You just controlled your urge to throw the lotion bottle at him. You groaned in frustration, a bit calmer now. Your husband sat down on your bed, head bowed down like a little kid being reprimanded.

“The meeting was that important, Kou. The teacher said that the attendees of that meeting are the parents of the children who has a special distinction this end of the school term. Our son was one of them.” Bokuto looked at you, eyes shone with pride but that was only for a brief moment the second you glared at him. “And you missed it.” You continued. Bokuto knew he can never argue with you on this, clearly, he’s at fault. “Babe, I’m very sorry.” He mumbled. You sigh. It already happened. You already forgave him before he apologized but it doesn’t mean you’re gonna let him go that easily. “Whatever, Kou. I’m sleeping.”

This was the last conversation you have, days ago. Until today you still ignored Bokuto not because you’re still mad at him—you already forgave him the morning after when he made you breakfast, but you like to see him grovel. The thing is, you want Bokuto to understand that there are responsibilities that goes beyond than providing comfort and stuffs for the family and sometimes he forgets that.

“Baby owl, look at our son. I can’t believe he’s up going up there to receive his first award in kindergarten.” He whispered, still a little wary, because you still haven’t talked to him properly. You hummed in answer. Bokuto looked at you with pleading eyes, “Babe, please. You haven’t talked to me properly in days. I miss you.” You looked at him, one brow raised. “I promise to be better. I promise not to forget things anymore especially if it concerns our son, just forgive me and talk to me.” He continued, with a subtle pout. You want to laugh, his expressions never changed. “Yes, Kou. I already forgave you.” Just as you finished saying those words and before Kou could answer, your son appeared in front of you. “Mommy forgive dada? Mommy kiss dada now?” You and Bokuto looked at each other and then laughed. “Yes, yes, yes, little owl. Mommy forgave me. Dada can kiss her now.” Your husband answer while winking at your son. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” your son gleefully cheered.

Kou kissed the top of your head while whispering 'I love you'. Kou then whispered praises to your son as you walked out of the venue hand in hand, off to your home where you’re going to celebrate all the milestones in life.

#ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu time skip #kotaru bokuto #haikyuu fic #ushijima x y/n #bokuto x y/n #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #hq bokuto #hq ushijima

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

Note

Hi! It's an au twilight question.

What if Edward and Bella did the nasty in early New moon. Then the party happens and the Cullens leave. Bella discovers she's pregnant with Renesmee. What do you think what would happen?

A very interesting question, anon. One that will go very interesting places, I'm sure.

That said, as usual, because I'm a completionist, we have to go through the "why no canon?" routine. Bear with me, I simply must.

Why Didn't Edward and Bella Do the Nasty Pre-Breaking Dawn?

For all that Edward is, for all his... questionable morals and sexual fixations, he does have a moral code he strictly holds himself to.

Edward is adamantly against having sex with Bella in terror of the very real possibility that he will murder her in the act. He's very clear about this, he didn't think he could do it, at all, and only his sheer desperation that Bella never be turned, his desire to marry Bella, as well as Alice's thumbs up convinced him to do it.

If Bella was a reasonable person then she would have agreed as well. Sex with Edward, while she's human, is a bad idea. However, Bella never really seems to clue in on what vampires even are so I think the Man of Steel on Woman of Kleenex aspect is lost on her.

Had Alice not given the green light, I imagine Edward would have gone back to the drawing board and ended up either here or here. Bella turning is the worst possible outcome and Edward will risk almost anything, even Bella's death, to see it avoided.

But that doesn't mean it's an action he takes lightly.

He suggests pimping Bella out to Jake before he suggests sleeping with her himself. For Edward, this is a last resort.

More, Edward is a man of his time.

Edward was from an upper class family and, more to the point, still holds himself to the standards of the society he knew when human (much to Bella's amusement).

Edward wistfully talks about courting Bella, how he would have courted her had he been a true man in the time period he was familiar with, and why marriage to him is so very important.

That Edward doesn't seek out the approval of Charlie, Bella's father, is a hilarious aside to me. Edward's all about chivalry until all those old society standards get in his way.

What do you mean a gentleman doesn't sneak into a lady's apartments in the middle of the night to watch her slumber unawares?!

Regardless, marriage is extremely important to Edward, especially in the context of sex.

Edward will absolutely not have sex with a woman who is not first his wife. He also will not marry a girl that society defines as underage, he will wait until Bella's legal and probably until she finishes her primary schooling.

This means Edward was never likely to have sex with her before graduation and certainly not before her eighteenth birthday.

Which, at the earliest, puts her past the New Moon birthday bash.

Edward and Bella Do the Do Anyway

But let's pretend they do it anyway.

I'd say the most likely scenario is after the birthday disaster. This is it, Edward knows he is leaving Bella forever, if he is truly noble then he will never see her again.

Certainly, he will never interact with her nor hold her in his arms. To Edward, this is essentially his last true night on Earth.

So rather than pull a partial D.E.N.N.I.S. system, Edward pulls the full D.E.N.N.I.S. system, he initiates the "I" he was previously missing, "Inspire Hope". Or, in this case, get laid for the first and only time in his life.

He sneaks in through her window. They make beautiful, passionate, tepid love so Edward does not crush her in the act, and as she sleeps blissfully in the aftermath he sneaks back out the window to never be seen again.

(It takes Bella a week to admit that Edward just hit and run. The Cullens aren't coming back.)

However, because Edward didn't actually point blank tell her what was happening, rather than hit her New Moon stage of depression, Bella's instead in denial.

The Cullens are coming back. What, Carlisle has a new job? No, that can't be right, they're coming back. Alice would never leave her without a word. Edward would never leave her without a word.

Jessica pats Bella on the back consolingly and is secretly glad that it's not her. She might have been dumped by Edward Cullen, but at least he didn't humiliate her the way he did Bella Swan.

Leaving without a single word, yikes.

Two weeks go by then Bella gets the flu.

In a single day, she's unable to keep down anything. Huh, that's weird. Very quickly, Bella has her tampon epiphany. Bella is not a virgin, she had sex with Edward, she's late, and she appears to have a baby bump.

Bella is carrying Edward's child.

There is no question of aborting the child. This is Edward's child, the only piece she has left of him, even without Renesmee's gift it's ride or die. Bella is delivering this child even if it kills her.

However, she has some immediate issues.

First, she's visibly pregnant, it's been only two weeks. That's not supposed to happen. More, Charlie is bound to notice sooner rather than later, Bella would like to avoid that, the stigma of teen pregnancy, as well as the inhuman complications that are sure to come along.

Second, there's inhuman complications. Bella can't just go to an OBGYN, not even a town over. She's carrying something half human, a doctor will poke around and find that out, and then Bella's blowing the secret.

Bella knows vaguely of the Volturi at this point, but not the severity of the law, it's more that she promised Edward she would never tell a soul.

Plus, a human doctor wouldn't be able to help anyway.

That leaves vampires.

Bella tries to call/email the Cullens. However, thanks to Edward, all their numbers are disconnected and all their emails no longer exist. Her "Alice, help, I'm pregannant" messages are sent to a void.

(Alice, meanwhile, thinks she's finally successful in blocking visions of Bella. At least Edward will be off her back. Without the cliff diving and Jake, Alice does not assume Bella has died/committed suicide.)

A brief internet survey also yields Bella no results, but it does get her a lot of vampire porn. Thanks internet.

Bella... starts to get worried.

She's getting more and more pregnant in a matter of days, Charlie is starting to notice that she can't keep anything down, and the Cullens aren't taking her phone calls.

Then, Bella has it, she remembers that weird baroque painting Carlisle had of him and those Italian vampire dudes: the Volturi. Conveniently named after the city they live in, Volterra, Italy.

Bella debates her options.

Edward told her that these are the guys who make sure that humans who know the secret disappear. Well, Bella is a human who knows the secret, that's bad. Also bad is that they eat people, Bella is a person.

On the other hand, Edward implied these guys are civilized and friends of Carlisle. That's... good? Bella isn't sure she's on good terms with the Cullens, given the whole abrupt leaving thing, but maybe they don't have to know that.

Bella debates with herself, tries to look up the Denali, and only finds the National Park. She has no idea where these guys even live, or what they even look like besides "blonde hot vampire", and she's short on time. Plus, they are close with the Cullens, so the Cullens probably did tell them "Ew, Bella, No Gross, Do Not Want".

Because the Cullens all hate her now.

Bella has some money saved up, and this is probably a one way trip, and if she doesn't go then... well, it's not looking good. Bella musters up her courage, tells Charlie some outrageous fib to explain why she's disappearing off the face of the planet, and books a flight to Rome, then Pisa, then a bus ride to Volterra.

Bella subsists completely on blue gateorade, this doesn't go well, and she vomits blue in the parking lot.

Regardless, she makes it, huzzah she is in Volterra. It's sunny out and there are no vampires. Bella wanders around the city and looks for the most vampire building she can find.

Luckily, she happens to be right, and it's the very central castle. Well done, Bella.

Bella walks in and spots a vampire. She also spots a receptionist, Bella is very confused. Never the less, Bella says the magic words, "I'm a... friend of Carlisle Cullen?"

Even though Bella doesn't have Aro's name (or any of the other Volturi for that matter), Carlisle's name does the trick. Anyone who works for Aro knows that name.

Color Aro intrigued, he will meet this pregnant woman! (Caius, meanwhile, votes that they eat her immediately out of spite.)

Well, Aro touches her hand and lo and behold she's scarily gifted. And she knows Carlisle, what a great day to be Aro.

Aro explains that everything's totally fine with her knowing the secret, it just means they have to turn her eventually, after she gives birth of course.

Bella stares at him numbly and wonders why Edward made this such a big deal if it was that easy.

Aro insists Bella start from the beginning, as in the very beginning of her life. This is weird, but Bella complies.

An hour later they get to the interesting part: Bella meets Carlisle (and Edward Cullen, Aro guesses). Aro gets to hear the whole, sordid, ridiculous tale of Bella and Edward's romance including the part where he fucked her and ran off into the night.

Aro is stunned.

He first apologizes for the Cullens behavior, they should absolutely not have abandoned her, and not turning her was completely irresponsible (what the hell was Carlisle thinking?)

He then gives the bad news, he... has never heard of anything like this.

You see, normal vampires don't have sex with humans. It isn't done.

Also, there's this thing called Immortal Children (Edward tell you about that, no? Well, he probably thought it wasn't relevant). That thing your carrying might not be a child capable of growth but an insatiable monster.

Or it could be the alien from Aliens.

There's no way to tell, really.

BUT NO NEED TO WORRY, BELLA, THEY WILL FIGURE THIS OUT.

Aro promises Bella his protection and a period of observation for the child. Bella's not sure she likes that observation part, but this seems like a pretty sweet deal otherwise.

As for what to do, well, Aro has to call in the foremost vampire medical expert. Sorry, Bella, but there's only one man for the job.

Aro sends out Demetri to find Carlisle.

Demetri shows up on Carlisle's doorstep, "Carlisle, old friend, Aro has need of you. Your son knocked up a human girl."

Carlisle blinks, blinks again, then does a thousand yard stare. My God.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Edward is already on Victoria's tail. Carlisle tries to call him, to no avail, Edward isn't taking his phone calls.

Alice and Jasper are already on their trip to hunt down Alice's past. Plus, given the Volturi, they'd be unlikely to come anyway. Carlisle sends them a message.

Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett travel to Volterra to clean up Edward's mess.

And sure enough, there's Bella, very pregnant with a child that is very much not human. Carlisle dies inside, Rosalie's on a warpath that Edward would abandon his pregnant girlfriend to the point where the only place she could turn was human drinking vampires.

Rosalie takes it upon herself to leave Edward the world's angriest voice messages until he returns her phone calls.

Aro's delighted to see Carlisle again. Even if he does have a wife now. Also, Aro claims finders keepers for Bella, Carlisle's not happy about this and less happy that Aro points out that if Edward cared so much he wouldn't be absent right now, would he?

They figure out the blood drinking thing, Carlisle desperately raids a hospital to prevent Bella from being fed the leftovers of the Volturi victims. This likely doesn't work out for him.

At the last possible moment, Edward finally picks up his phone. He learns that all he's tried to accomplish failed spectacularly. Bella is pregnant with his demon child, is literally drinking blood, and is in Vampire HQ with the leader insisting she will be turned immediately after the C-section.

Edward races to Volterra and strides into the room demanding Bella be aborted and remain human.

Aro stares.

Carlisle awkwardly explains that Bella's too far along, it's too late now even if they wanted to, more she adamantly doesn't want to abort and never did.

As for Bella being human... Bella pipes in that she's cool on becoming the vampire part. Aro's a great guy. She then races to embrace Edward, he's come back, after all this time. And he's going to be a father, isn't that wonderful?

Edward loses his mind.

And because this is Edward, I have no idea what he'll do, only it'll be utter madness. This is my best guess.

To be a little more serious, he probably tries to abort the child anyway, he mercy kills Bella and the child, or Renesmee manages to get through to him.

Given canon, it's likely the latter. Bella is convinced that her and Edward's relationship is perfect.

Aro has no idea what to think of any of this.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #bella swan #edward cullen #edward/bella #anti edward/bella #carlisle cullen #the volturi #aro #caius #demetri #rosalie hale #alice cullen #the cullens #the denali #meta #headcanon #opinion

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spencerreidscoffeecup · 3 years

Text

Night Out (smutty/fluff)

CW: kissing, getting caught kissing (by a child), slight teasing, dirty thoughts, talk of alcohol consumption, mutual pining, mention of nipple piercings, fluff!!, #milfalert ;), pervy spencer

Word Count: 3300

AN: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this one shot! <3

Spencer's POV:

"Can't you find anyone to babysit?"

Looking up from the book I was currently reading, I listened in on the conversation that was going on between Emily, Penelope, JJ, and Y/n.

We had finally come back from a week-long case, and the girls had been planning a night out once everyone got back home. As of now, we were on the jet, half the team asleep, the other half discussing their plans.

"Everyone's busy," Y/n frowned, combing a few loose hairs behind her right ear. "Besides, I haven't seen Aaliyah in over a week; I should probably stay home."

"Y/n, Aaliyah is three- almost four- years old! You haven't gone out since the year before she was born. You deserve to take a break and enjoy yourself. You can hang out with her on Saturday." Emily reasoned, splaying her hands out on the table in front of her as I listened.

"I would love to, Em, but everyone is too busy to babysit. It's not like I'm gonna send her to her abusive father in New York; fuckin' asshole," she mumbled the last remark, rolling her eyes.

Before I could stop myself, I piped into their conversation. "I-I'll babysit Aaliyah."

JJ raised her eyebrows at me. "Spence, you've never babysat anyone before. Do you know how to?"

"I know how to babysit!" I squeaked, laying my book down on the table in front of me, crossing my arms defensively in front of my chest. "Besides, I haven't seen Aaliyah in a month. I miss her."

"You would do that for me?" Y/n spoke quietly, smiling softly.

I blushed. "Of-of course. I would do anything for you--" the words flew from my mouth like vomit.

Jesus, Spencer.

Could you be any more obvious?

Emily chuckled as I tried to revise my wording, the beautiful woman sitting on the couch blushing slightly as she bit her lower lip.

"I-I mean! I would- I-I love Aaliyah, of c-course I would help you out. You deserve it."

Y/n smiled, the corner of her eyes crinkling slightly.

God, she's so beautiful.

So perfect.

"Thank you, Spence," Y/n stood up from her place on the jet's couch, bent down, and gave me a kiss on the cheek, then stood up, lightly hugging my head to her pelvis lightly as she looked down at me, before combing her fingers through my hair as she talked with the girls; leaning her body against my seat. My heart fluttered in my chest as I blushed. Hard.

Before walking away to grab some more coffee, she ruffled my hair. Her hips swayed as she walked to the other side of the jet. I reluctantly tore my eyes from her without being too noticeable.

I turned my head back to the girls, their eyebrows arched, a smirk crawling up their lips.

I gulped, "W-what?"

JJ shook her head dismissavely, "Oh nothing, loverboy."

Heat crawled up my neck, spreading across my face as I willed myself to look back at my book.

But I couldn't read properly.

I kept touching the cheek Y/n so delicately pressed her soft lips upon. My face tingled slightly and my heart leapt, replaying the moment in my head over and over.

Turns out, that was a better entertainment than my book for the next two hours on the jet.

Friday Night: 6:56 PM

If I thought the butterflies that circled my body once Y/n had kissed my cheek had been bad, it was nothing compared to the feeling I got when she opened the door; her blue pajama pants on and a tank top that was taut to her upper body making my slacks tighten shamefully.

She looked so beautiful when she was in comfortable, domestic clothing, that I was barely able to focus on the words that were coming out of her mouth as she tried inviting me inside her apartment. Instead, I stood in the doorway, eyes wide as I swallowed thickly, my eyes wandering her figure and face.

I imagined waking up next to her, the golden sun illuminating her face. I would cherish the small kisses we would share sleepily, smiling against one another's lips. The embrace we share: warm and inviting.

"Spence?" she laughed softly. I snapped out of my daze.

"Y-Yeah?"

"You okay?"

I nodded, smiling. "Yes of course, I'm sorry."

Y/n only giggled, the sound filling my body with butterflies and a great dose of serotonin.

She opted to pull me in by my tie, and I yelped slightly at the sudden force. I bit down the small moan that was begging to be released from my throat as she closed the door and smoothed my silk tie out for me.

Smiling softly, she put a hand on my cheek. "Thank you so much. I know this probably isn't the first thing you'd want to do on a Friday night."

I smiled meekly.

"It's no problem. And usually I read at home. Alone. During any occasion or day of the week, really."

I subtly nuzzled my head in her palm before hearing little footsteps approach.

"Mommy! Who-? SPENCIE!" Aaliyah's curly hair bounced on her head as a great smile split across her cheeks at the sight of me. She ran over, jumping happily and wrapping her tiny arms and hands around my upper thigh. She giggled as I swooped down and picked her up.

"Hello, Aaliyah!" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around her pj cladded body, to which she wrapped her arms around my neck and sprinkled light, but slightly open mouthed kisses on my face.

"Aaliyah, quit suffocating Spencer," Y/n chuckled nervously, pulling the three-year old away from my body and settling her daughter on her hip. Aaliyah made grabby-hands for me, so I extended my hand and let her wrap her tiny hand around my thumb. She played with my digits as Y/n kissed her daughter's forehead. "I'm sorry about her energy, I told her you'd be coming to babysit but she must've forgotten. Now she's all worked up."

"Don't worry about it," I assured her, smiling happily at the image in front of me.

"Spen- Spencie we can bake cookies!" Aaliyah hiccuped, beaming.

"That sounds great!"

Y/n smiled before hearing her phone chime in the other room. "Oh, shoot. I should get ready,"

I nodded, taking Aaliyah from her arms as Y/n made her way to the bedroom.

The toddler squished my face with her tiny hands, a giggle bubbling from her throat.

"Thanks for arriving early, Spence," Y/n called from her room. "And thanks for doing this."

"It's no problem, really." I set Aaliyah down, letting her hold my hand.

It was quiet besides the little fits of laughter made by Aaliyah and me, and the soft music that played as Y/n got ready.

"Spencie," Aaliyah whispers, pulling me in close by gripping the fabric of my sweater vest. "My mommy really likes you. She talks about you so much." she whispers into my ear, the smell of strawberry baby soap wafting from her curly hair. I feel myself blush.

Y/n talks about me?

A lot, apparently.

Aaliyah giggles and runs off to her room, telling me that she is going to grab some more toys.

My thoughts swarm throughout my head until Y/n exits her room.

Fuck.

"Uhm, h-how do I look?" she asks nervously, flattening her dress out beneath her palms.

She wore a cotton, navy blue, low-cut, U-neck, short-sleeved dress. It was tight against her body, the image making my body and face heat up as I gulped heavily. Her black high-heels made the urge for wanting her to step on me grow.

I adjusted the drooping glasses on my nose as my mouth opened slightly. I felt my breathing pick up.

With a clearer image, I saw that tonight, she wore nothing underneath; the sight made me feral. Two small bulbs on either side of her pebbled nipples caught my attention. I was confused for a brief moment before I realized. Nipple piercings.

Fucking hell.

I was sexualizing her. I knew it. I hated myself for it. Thus, I tore my eyes away from her.

"I-I mean- you look- just- well, you know- very uhm- y-you look grea- beautiful. Y-you look absolutely beautiful." I cleared my throat, subtly adjusting the tightening in my slacks.

God, I'm a terrible person.

"Thank you, Spencer." she giggled.

I can only imagine her taking control over my body, her hand wrapping around my throat as she scolds me for being like this. For thinking of her like this. She would ride me until she came and wouldn't allow me to finish until I made her cum three times. And I would feed on her pleasure. Feed on the way my essence would drip down from her body and pool at mine.

My heart hammered in my chest as I looked down, fidgeting with my hands.

I didn't even realize Y/n striding over to me. My hair must've been in my eyes as she got down next to me and combed some of my hair back. Again, I felt my face turn red. It was a routine at this point. She straddled my thigh as she did this, leaning over and fixing my once-gelled hair.

"Sorry," she laughed softly, standing back up as Aaliyah ran back into the room. "I've been wanting to fix it all night."

A content sigh left her mouth as she kissed her daughter's head and grabbed her purse. I stood up in pursuit.

A ding rang from her phone. She read from her device.

"Alright, they're here!" she announced, picking Aaliyah up and hugging her tightly. "Be good for Spence, okay?" Aaliyah nodded happily, running back over to me once her mother set her down on the ground.

"Okay, Spence?" Y/n turned her attention towards me. "Aaliyah's food is in the refrigerator, don't let her have more than one cookie, and her bedtime is 9:00. She's gonna try and push it back further, and no matter how much she begs, please; don't budge." she chuckled, fixing her lip gloss in the small mirror next to her apartment's front door.

"Food: refrigerator, one cookie, bedtime: 9." I recited.

Y/n grinned and quickly kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you for doing this again, Spence. It means a lot to me."

I smiled bashfully. "Of course. Have fun."

Y/n smiled back and ran out the door, kissing Aaliyah on her forehead and began to meet with her friends.

I stared at the door before I felt small hands tug on my left pant-leg. "Spencie, I want cookies!" Aaliyah huffed.

I snapped out of my dazed feelings and followed the toddler into the kitchen.

"Okay! Cookie time!"

After one Barbie movie, a dozen cookies baked, dinner eaten, and two children's books, I, and Aaliyah were exhausted by the end of the night.

Thus, at 9:05, (Aaliyah had been sneaky and hid from me under her bed (giving me quite the panic) as to extend her bedtime) I tucked the sleepy child in.

"Spencie?" she whispered sleepily, I hummed in response as I ran my fingers through her hair. "Mommy loves you. A lot. Just thought you would wan' know." she yawned, snuggling closer to her pink bunny-rabbit I had gifted her the day she was born.

My heart fluttered in my chest at her words.

Spencer, what are you thinking?

She's three years old.

She still thinks unicorns still exist.

There's no way Y/n likes you like that.

I smiled softly and kissed her forehead gingerly as she snuggled closer into my chest.

Although, those contradicting thoughts were shushed a sleepy goodnight as I felt my eyes flutter close. Even in the cramped space of Aaliyah's bed, I still dreamt of a happy life with Y/n and Aaliyah. I dreamt of happiness that would warm the coldest of hearts.

I dreamt of my dream girl, who so happened to be Y/n.

I dreamt of the sweetest of things.

The most beautiful.

Y/n.

Reader's POV:

Coming back home at midnight from a loud and eccentric club was seemingly always therapeutic.

I had missed Aaliyah.

A lot.

And I had also missed Spencer.

But I was glad to go out and enjoy my time with the girls. I milked an alcoholic strawberry daiquiri all night as we danced and grinded on one another.

It was fun.

However, I still missed my daughter (and the babysitter).

I couldn't wait to shower and crawl into my bed, dreaming of the happiest of things. I couldn't wait to dream of my fantasize of my dream man, who so happened to be Spencer.

I saw the way he looked at me.

I knew his feelings for me. I had felt the same way about him. And although this may be cruel, I loved to innocently tease him. I loved to make him nervous and loved watching him stutter around his words at the slight touch of my hand on his shoulder or chest.

I wanted to feel him. Have a domestic life with him. Be with him.

I wanted Aaliyah to have an amazing father, and I knew that if Spencer was up for it, he would love me and her unconditionally. He would fit in the spot of 'father' so comfortably.

And I felt shameful for those nights I would pleasure myself to the thought of him. The feeling of his slightly chapped lips against my skin. The way he would pour himself into my body with all the love he could muster.

And although those were the more tame thoughts, I still dreamt of the way I would control him under my touch. Make him beg.

Those thoughts made my heart flutter in my chest and my orgasm erupt from my body whenever I would play with myself.

Going back to now, as if I could think the mere sight of Spencer was enough to melt my heart, I definitely was not prepared for the sight I would see once at home.

Aaliyah was snuggled on his chest, a book splayed open across his lap as they both slept so soundly. His arms wrapped protectively but comfortingly around my daughter, her tiny body a fraction of his.

I almost didn't wake him until I realized that it was probably cruel for him to sleep in such a small bed, even if he looked so comfortable in it. His feet hung over the edge, the mismatched socks he wore making me laugh softly.

I bent over, kissing him softly on the forehead. He stirred, his eyes closing tightly before fluttering open.

"Hi," I whispered, combing some hair from his eyes.

"Hey," he yawned softly. "Sorry, I must've fallen asleep."

I shrugged slightly.

"No need to apologize. Looks like she likes you more than her stuffed animals," I chuckled.

Spencer laughed quietly along with me as he grabbed his shoes, then bent down to kiss Aaliyah's cheek; her nose scrunching up in response as she snuggled closer to her pink rabbit.

We walked to the living room as to talk some more.

I loved hearing Spencer talk.

It was one of my favorite things about him; the way he rambled about random things.

Him and Penelope were definitely the reason why we figured so many cases out.

"Thanks again," I smiled, hugging him.

"Of course. I love Aaliyah. And I love hanging out with her. She's a lot of fun."

I smiled and then pulled away, grabbing my purse, then pulled out a fifty dollar bill.

Spencer's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What's this for?"

"For babysitting." I explained.

"No way. You don't need to pay me." he whispered.

I bit my lower lip, smiling softly. "Please. You've done so much."

Spencer's warm hand opened mine with the fifty dollar bill and gently forced my hand to close around it.

"Seriously, it's okay. I love being with Aaliyah. And I love helping you out. I don't want you to pay me."

I nodded reluctantly after a moment, putting the money back in my bag.

"Well then," I began, smoothing his sweater vest out underneath my palm. "How can I repay you?"

I looked up at him through doe-eyes, biting my lower lip softly. Spencer noticeably gulped.

God, he's so cute.

"W-wh- uhm," he cleared his throat, laughing softly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I began, our bodies slowly closing the gap between us. "I'll do anything you want me to do in order to repay you." my voice was a whisper as I wrapped my hand around the bottom of Spencer's tie.

Spencer swallowed thickly once more, his eyes peering through a half-lidded gaze; his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Before I or we could say another word, his lips were on mine. My whole entire body seemed to light aflame, the adrenaline and small amount of alcohol I consumed fueling the fiery kiss.

Lewd, wet noises sounded throughout the living room of my apartment as I pulled Spencer in closer, our tongues twining together then softly massaging one another. His hands hovered above my hips before I placed one on my ass and the other on my hip bone. He whimpered softly.

His hand that sat on my hip bone ran up the side of my torso very gently as we kissed, his other hand on my ass squeezing it softly. I hummed into his mouth at the feeling. I pressed my body against his as my hand cupped his neck, my neck recoiling at how intensely we were kissing.

I made my way to sucking on the skin of his neck and jawline, his hands now fully on my ass as he experimented with squeezing it; his breath hitching in his throat and his eyes closed.

I felt him hard against my thigh, our heated kisses so intoxicating that we were gasping into each other's mouths. We were so into one another that I didn't even realize Aaliyah had snuck downstairs and had cleared her throat. She did it louder this time and I gasped before pulling away. A blush creeped onto Spencer's cheeks. He looked so beautiful and ruined. His lips were red and slick, his hair was tousled, and his glasses were astray on his face. Kiss stains and my red lipstick marked his neck; the makeup practically as red as the blush that sat on the apples of his cheeks.

"A-Aaliyah. Hi, baby," I stammered breathlessly, combing my fingers through my hair. "Why are you up so late, my love?"

Aaliyah dodged my question and in turn focused her attention on Spencer, a smile brimming at her lips.

"Are you my new daddy?"

Oh my god.

"Oh, god," I muttered, laughing nervously before picking my daughter up and kissing her cheek. Spencer laughed along, seemingly happy at the question.

That's a relief.

I bit my lower lip to keep from bursting out laughing before taking Aaliyah upstairs, and tucking her in bed.

I ran back down, hoping to see Spencer, however, he was gone. I felt my heart drop in my chest.

Damn it.

I ran out of my apartment, seeing the young doctor fixing his hair as he walked to the elevator.

"Spencer!" I called after him, and I saw relief wash over his features. Before saying another word, I planted a kiss on his lips. I pulled away, our faces decorated with smiles. "Thank you. Maybe we could do something like this some other time? Preferably.. alone?"

The genius laughed softly, his face still adorned with a blush. "That sounds great. But then we are going to have to search for a babysitter somewhere else."

"That sounds like a good idea." I laughed before our lips met once more into soft kisses.

#spencerreid #spencerreidxreader #fluff

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

NASCAR III | G.W

WARNINGS // 6.9k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex, one ass slap.

A/N // the series that nobody expected to become a series has now officially done just that. @darthwheezely and I do be hoes for these racer boys xoxo 🏎🦋 ILYSM PHIA MWAH <333

“Fred, have you seen my jumper?”

“Yeah, it’s on the bed, baby” he called. Fred was not often a meticulous man, but (as Lee said) ‘if the fit called for a bit of work, it was always worth it.’

And to Fred, going to a press conference with his exceptionally hot fiancé warranted at least basic perfection, right?

Fred made a low whistle as she came out of the bathroom, a towel around her. “Well, aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes.” She came to stand in front of him, pressing one, two, three kisses to his mouth, the flavour of fresh toothpaste still on her mouth. He hummed in contentment and wrapped his hands around her waist.

“Love, it’ll be fine, this will be my tenth, glorious win-“

“-and you almost got in a crash last time because you were being a tosser, remember?”

“Mmmm, that’s in the details,” he said softly. He searched her eyes and sighed, pulling her flush into his body.

“I promise I’ll be okay this time, you know I’m a great driver and that this isn’t anything different...I still intend on marrying you in one piece, you know.” She chuckled at that and he tilted her chin up, pressing a kiss to her forehead and murmuring:

“I love you, you know that?”

“And I love you, Freddie...even though you are a tosser.”

He slung her over his shoulder, rolling his eyes dramatically, and threw her on the bed, her giggling at the action.

“There’s my saucy little minx, now how about a pre-press test drive, yeah?...”

—

“I can’t just not go, babe.” George sighed, pushing the hair from his face, a sudden clammy feeling of his clothes against his skin indicating just how nervous he was for the up and coming press conference.

“You’re running a fever, George, I’ll call Lee and tell him that you need the rest and that–” You rambled, pressing the cool back of your hand against his forehead, then neck and chest, feeling that thin veil of sweat forming against his hot skin.

“Don’t.” He mumbled all too abruptly, cutting your flow of words short. Furrowing your brows, you looked down at him before shaking your head. He recognised the tone at which he had spat his word, immediately pulling your hand into his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m sorry I snapped, I know you’re only looking out for me.”

“It’s okay, Georgie, I still think you should stay here with me.” You sighed, climbing over his legs to be sat in his lap as you breathed out softly, watching as his eyes softened only for his eyebrow to raise, a smirk soon finding his lips while his hands rested on your waist.

“Any old excuse to keep me at the hotel then, eh?” George licked his lips, pulling you closer into his chest as he eyed your expression, the giggle that fell from his lips like pure music to his ears.

“I just want you better for the race, idiot.” You rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, his lips finding your cheeks to pepper kisses there with a smug grin on his face.

“I think I could win this one you know, regardless of me being sick or not, I have a good feeling about it.” He hummed, forehead pressed against yours lovingly.

“What makes you say that?” You prodded, running your hands through the hair at the back of his head.

“I have one thing nobody else has; you.” He praised, only for you to bury your face in the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath as his hands ran up your back. “I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you too, George, more than you’ll ever know.”

—

The conference room was packed - that’s an understatement, really. Every journalist alive came to talk to the new dominators of modern NASCAR racing, George and Fred Weasley. Although, as George spitefully knew:

He was somewhere because of Fred. Again.

That familiar feeling of resentment threatened to bubble in the younger twin’s throat, and he immediately began to push it down. The fights, the mutual disgust and disdain - that was done now. Ten wins for Fred should mean legitimately less than nothing but excitement for his older brother.

So why was that feeling still there?

“Hello, everyone, I’m sorry I’m late!” Fred entered from the back of the stage, nothing but glimmer (and gloat) in the elder twin’s face. Good mood Fred could always either be an impending disaster, or one of the best things the world has ever seen.

Of course he’s late, he’s always late, George thought, before guilt immediately settled in.

Fred took a bottle of water, winking playfully at the young lady who got him one, before settling in his seat next to George.

“Right then, questions?” Fred boomed, that familiar sunshine of a smile very evident on his face. The man behind them, George’s manager was directing questions, and George swallowed at what questions would appear.

“This is for Fred, do you predict another victory in this race?” The journalist asked.

Fred leaned a bit forward in his seat and dipped his mouth into the microphone:

“Does the pope wear a big hat, love?”

George however sniggered to himself at the question, holding back a laugh at Fred’s answer. Of course he would answer in the cockiest way known to man, only lighting a fire under the younger twin’s arse to kick into gear and take the baby driver down a few pegs.

“Something funny, Georgie?” Fred turned his head slightly to the side, the smile still there, but dark eyes venturing into icier territory.

“Nothing, Brother, just think you should remember there is always tough competition, no matter how cocksure you are.” George murmured loud enough into the microphone for his words to reverberate around the room, some reporters eyeing each other before vigorously taking notes.

Fred had been taking a sip of his water and nearly choked, eliciting a “sorry everyone!” into the microphone. He gave George a brief side eye, but no - he wasn’t going to let him ruin his moment again. They’ve moved past this, George can have his own fun, why couldn’t he be a little confident for a change?

“Hi, this question is for George,” Fred only heard that much before a brief but very definite prickle of resentment tingled at his skin. He started to feel a bit warm but was determined to brush it off, turning towards George a bit.

“You’ve had a fantastic season these past couple years, and although you’ve lost the past ten races, you still stick to the top five - will we get our own Crimson Wonder back, or is that Fred’s title now?”

George held back on his instinct to bite at his brother’s ego, instead taking a sip of water to collect his thoughts before speaking, his mind trailing back to the words he had said this morning; ‘I have a good feeling about this one’.

“Fred and I both train hard, as does every other racer out on that track,” George swallowed thickly before continuing his sentence, “But I think my own winning streak is far from over, who knows, as you say, you may get your Crimson Wonder back yet.”

Fred attempted to register and probably stop the inherently blank expression on his face, but honestly? It was too much. Yes, George was great, and yes, he was proud of him but.

Why was there a deeply unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach? Twintuition as they called it was something not out of the ordinary at all - but why was it that somewhere in the back of his mind he just felt this...this negative foresight.

There was one thing Fred didn’t like more than avocados (Fred hated avocados) and that was losing.

“My baby brother, so inspirational isn’t he? Gets it from my mum, absolutely.” Fred curled his lips into his mouth, gnawing on his bottom lip, in complete understanding of what he just said. The reporters didn’t have to know that any time he brought up their age or said my mum instead of our mum, it kind of lit a match in George.

In short, Fred knew exactly what he was doing. And George didn’t really like that, but he wasn’t about to stoop to Fred’s level and ruin his public imagery, not with his wife-to-be and his sister-in-law-to-be watching and murmuring to each other with pained faces: they knew the tension was there too, of course they had.

“I think we should leave the rest of the heat for rubber burning on the track.” The moderator cut in, taking final questions from the press aimed at the others on the panel, letting the twins simmer in their own jealousy toward one another as the conference came to a close.

The boys’ demeanours had completely shifted, George staying behind to take pictures and leave autographs for fans, smile on his face and a sense of pride in his chest, while Fred had made a swift exit in just the way he arrived, looking absolutely miserable.

—

“Georgie,” Fred called out from the locker rooms, “just what the fuck was that?” His bare chest red while he angrily scrambled to get his uniform on.

“Please,” George scoffed, zipping his uniform up calmly, before pushing his bag into his locker with ease, “I could ask you the same question.”

“I was actually trying to give the press what they wanted, a good show, you, on the other hand, just wanted to be a proper arsehole in front of everyone.” He slammed his locker door shut, his knuckles on his hand against it surely white now from childish rage.

George closed his locker with force, not so much anger, running a hand through his hair before picking up his helmet, his tongue truly in his cheek, the angel on his shoulder begging him to stay quiet while the devil paralleled telling him that it was about time he spoke his feelings. “I’m the arsehole? Check your own actions first, mate.”

He breathed but he wasn’t done, the words flowing like vomit as he finally let go all of the bottled aggression, “You don’t know the first thing about being a racer, how fucking tiring it is and you use it against me like its something I’m not good at and I’m fucking tired of it.”

George went to continue, but the guilt of spitting every thought in his brain suddenly overcame him, instead he clutched at his helmet a little tighter, taking a deep breath before muttering as he walked away, “Good luck out there, you’ll need it.”

Fred stood there watching him walk away, something a bit more unfair that self-loathing and resentment lingering in his chest. It was dizzying, it was a feeling he altogether hated and actively tried to pretend he didn’t have.

Fred Weasley, in short, was guilty.

—

The Arizona sun was beating down on the track, everyone watching on with baited breath as each car lined up on the Phoenix Raceway, engines revving in anticipation of the start of the race. Fred was clutching at his steering wheel tightly, blinkered only on one thing; winning this one. George however, knew the racers he was up against; some of the best in the NASCAR cup and even some that had been driving as long as he had been alive, was lucky to find himself there, taking a deep breath. George wasn’t a religious man but in that moment he was praying to whatever god to grant him some good luck.

The green flag waved, signalling the start of the race, each car zooming by as the engines roared. The race was a tough one and everyone watching on knew that. The first ten or so laps went just as smoothly as planned, a backhaul crash in the 18th lap just missing the twins, but nevertheless cutting the number of racers pretty much immediately in half.

George grew more confident as he crept up the rankings, sitting comfortably in about 6th place for a grand majority of the race, while Fred trailed much behind him in about 8th place. The tension of the conference had truly stumped the older twin, pushing him to want to be up in the top dogs, but to no avail, every attempt was blocked for him.

The final three laps, George was in fourth and Fred was nowhere to be seen, well sat in his 11th place, seething at his inevitable loss. The younger twin was content with his placing, watching the third place drop down to 5th pushing him into the top 3. George swore he felt every single beat of his heart as he zoomed past the lap line. Two to go. Third place was enough for George, especially in a race like this. He zoomed past the lap line again. White Flag. Last chance.

In a flash, a car from behind George pushed forward, striking the first place car, sending three cars spiralling off the track leaving behind only dust sparks and fire in their tacks. It didn’t click for George that he had passed the finish line in 1st place until it blared through his headset.

“I fucking did what?” He shouted as he continued speeding around the track, the confirmation of his win ringing through his ears as he let out a loud but satisfied yell, the stress of weeks of losses finally leaving him in an exhale, welcoming the new feeling of pride.

Fred in the heat of the crash had fallen to 12th place, pushing him to be the last of all the cars on the track past the finish line - a loss he was not ready to accept no matter how much pride beamed from him hearing the news that the winner had been his own twin brother.

—

“George, how does it feel to have a trophy back?”

“Honestly, it feels so surreal - I’m so grateful for my team, crew, and absolutely amazing fiancée, Y/N - I love you so much, baby,” he shouted over the noise, cameras completely swamping the victory stage and hallway down to the bar. He had everything he could’ve wanted, you, a real win again, happy sponsors - but there was one thing missing.

Fred. Where was Fred? Did it really matter? He knew he hadn’t placed very far, but surely he wouldn’t be that angry would he? But then - no. No, George won, he deserved to win again after Fred had been hogging all the sunny days and he was still supportive. So where was his twin now? Even after everything.

He stopped you on his arm and said: “actually, there is one more person I really do have to thank.” He faced directly towards the camera, you utterly confused.

“Thank you, Freddie, for being the best supportive big brother a guy could ask for. You’ve always been a winner to me.” And with a shaky swallow, knowing he wasn’t here, knowing he probably could give a shit whether George thanked him or not, he went off with you on his arm to have a drink.

God knows he needed it.

—

The older twin sat in the lockers, his elbows resting on his knees, his bare arms and chest tensing periodically with pure and spiteful rage. What the absolute fuck had he done differently? He had been on his highest alert, his most pristine focus, what went wrong?

He didn’t crash, he didn’t bitch and moan to his pit crew, he didn’t fly off the handle - yet - so why did he get the curt, “I’m sorry, son, we all lose sometimes,” from Vinnie, his new manager like it was just normal.

Fred Weasley didn’t lose. Especially not after a ten time winning streak, no, he refused.

So there he sat, knowing his fiancé was probably making excuse after excuse as to why her husband had fled the cameras and the questions, why he wasn’t congratulating his brother on his fantastic win - but he didn’t have the energy to feel guilt. All he felt was loathing. He barely didn’t register the soft clicking of his soon to be wife’s heels clacking against the tile floor.

“Fred Weasley, what the fuck are you doing naked in the locker room, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said with great exasperation. She looked stunning, in that pretty little two piece skirt and black crop number, not at all like a woman frantically in search of her formula 1 MIA husband.

“You look great, sweetheart,” he mumbled, barely looking up at her before getting up and turning to his locker, getting out his change of clothes. She watched his back ripple with tension and at the sight alone felt her thighs break for a second.

“So were you planning on telling me where you were or just sulking in here?”

“I was taking a shower, actually...I don’t get why you’re so pissed at me.” He snapped, not even bothering to turn around.

“I’m ‘pissed’ at you because your brother loves you and you’re in here acting like a five year old who got his teddy taken away from him.” She retorted. Fred turned around then, slamming the locker door shut for the second time that day, the sound echoing in the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?” He seemed to punctuate every word in the sentence, but his voice very quiet - too quiet.

“You’re - just get your clothes on and knock it off, Weasley,” she scoffed, trying to walk off the very minor but very palpable fear she felt, and the evident arousal pooling in her thighs. Fred, unfortunately, knew this, and in Fred fashion, was feeling quite a good many ways about this.

“Get your ass back here, right now, sweetheart,” he snapped, his volume gaining to a low roar. When she kept on walking to the door, his long legs loped to a brisk walk in front of the doorway, right in front of her. She didn’t realize that she was holding her breath for a second until she exhaled, and his thumb came up to grace her bottom lip.

“Open,” he said quietly, and then she did listen, her lips opening up to his thumb immediately. He always did this mannerism, when he said open he’d open his mouth too, almost showing her how she needed to be before usually saying “theeere, it is” but right now, he was silent, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

But then she bit. And hard. Pushing him off her and making him gasp, her heels clicked down the tile as fast as she could walk. But Fred wasn’t going to let her get away that easy. In an instant he threw his elongated and toned arm out to grab her waist, pulling her back into the wall, caging her in his hold.

“You’re being an absolute twat, you know that?” She spat. He delicately slapped the side of her face and squeezed her cheeks to form an o.

“And you’re being a prissy little bitch, but I’m still here, aren’t I?” He said harshly, scanning her eyes before yanking her in for a kiss. She immediately released a desperate moan into his mouth and he slid his hand through her hair and all the knots and tangles possible to reach the back of her head. His other hand slid down up her skirt to grope her thigh, hoisting her legs around his waist.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad, I swear,” she breathed out, before his lips messily met hers. He always kissed with his jaw, she noticed that, when he’d hit his strong jaw out to move with her and nuzzle her face and then she always moaned like she was doing now.

In an instant he was carrying her back towards the shower, the shuffle of so many movements causing the towel around his waist to fall off.

“You ready to take a winner, baby?”

—

After a couple of drinks it was safe to say that you and George had gotten a little closer than you usually would have sober. He wasn’t even tipsy, feeling no more than the pride of his win but even with that he wasn’t going to ignore the fact that his girl was practically purring for him while clinging to his arm. You were so desperate to pull him in for a kiss, hell you probably would have let him have you in the hall out of pure lust for your husband-to-be.

It had been so long since you’d seen him smile the way he was now, pride radiating off his skin alongside the heat of his lingering fever, making you remember that not only had he won the hardest race he’d ever driven, but he’d done so while sick. A smirk spread over your lips as you went to push up on your toes, lips pecking a gentle kiss to his jaw.

“What’s that for, angel?” He smiled down at you, his lips now ducking down to press a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Just a taste of how I’m gonna congratulate my winner later.” You mumbled playfully as his arm snuck around your waist to pull you in tighter, leaning to whisper in your ear as his lips grazed over your earlobe.

“Guess I should think about getting you to bed then, yeah? That what you want bub?” He pulled away from your ear with a grin stretching from ear to ear.

You nodded bashfully, letting him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the rosy hue on his cheeks apparent just from being close to you, in this moment. George didn’t care about the press or his manager or really even the win anymore, not when he had you right in front of him, begging him short of being on your knees.

He made an excuse, whatever it had to be to get you alone, to get away from the champagne, cameras and chatting. His jacket was draped over your shoulders as you found your way out of the celebration lounge, giggling like teenagers as you walked hand in hand to his car, the echoes of laughter humming around the underground car park before he had you trapped between his body and the passenger side door.

“I can’t wait to get you back to our room.” He mumbled, lips just hovering inches away from yours. His hand slipped just under the hem of your top, his hot touch sending sparks flying through you.

“The things I want you to do to me, Weasley.” You breathed out, hand reaching behind his head to pull his lips down to yours, letting him leave no gaps between you, him and his car.

“Oh yeah?,” he murmured breathlessly, nose knocking against yours, “Like what, princess? Don’t be shy, we have a whole journey for you to run that pretty mouth of yours.”

“You’ll ruin me one day if you keep talking like that, George.”

“I think I’ll ruin you tonight instead, love.”

—

“Freddie, please-“

“No, I’m not stopping until you cum on me, princess, I deserve that much,” he snarled, his cock rippling through her over and over. He had intended on fucking all his anger out on her ever since he pushed her into the shower, everything only mouths and melded hands.

“Feels - feels so good, Freddie” she whined, her legs barely able to sustain being wrapped around him. His hips whipcracked into her at an entirely new angle, prompting her to mewl and claw at his back like a cat.

“Oh my poor baby, can she not take my cock? Would another racer do a better job at - “ he pushed deeper into that new spot, her mewls and whines turning to wanton cries. “ - stretching you out instead of me?”

“No one can do this, Fred, I promise, love,” she murmured, her eyes rolling vacantly to the back of her head. He sensed her climax was arriving soon, she was like butter under his hot embrace.

“Look at me,” he growled, squeezing her face and tilting it upwards. “I want to see my prize when she makes a mess everywhere, you hear me, princess?” Her widened eyes bore into his deep chocolate ones and when she finished, she truly could not look at anything else except him, it was always him and only him that made her feel like this.

“Thaaaat’s it, baby, look at you, being such a dirty little girl for me. You like making messes for me, princess?” He cooed, his soft and caring tone a total opposite to the way he pulled out and slammed back in, making her scream and be flush against him.

“M-mhm,” she murmured, Fred shaking his head as he chuckled, carrying her dripping out of the shower, still inside her. “Do you want me to take you off?” He whispered, the anger still in his throat, but...she would always be more important. Making her feel safe was always important, even in the worst of his rage. Fortunately, she nodded at him and kissed his jaw, a soothing gesture that always meant she loved him, everything was okay, he didn’t hurt her. He smoothed the top of her wet hair down and gave the top of her head a kiss, his ring finger stroking against the centre of her spine.

But then, a certain thought excited him blackly.

“Baby…who put that ring on you?” He asked pensively. No, he didn’t win that idiotic fucking race, and no, he didn’t beat his brother in this race but - he still won her. He suddenly felt his dick twitch deep inside her and he groaned, clenching his jaw at the sudden awareness of her engagement ring digging into his shoulder. He fully stopped looking at the ground and the towel on the locker hanger, reaching for it and dropping it flat on the ground.

“F-Freddie?” She asked weakly.

“Mhm?”

“What - what are you doing?” She released a high pitch whine at the feeling of Fred twitching again, and at that he flipped her over on the towel, backside up, his cunt and his ass being fully presented to him like that. And then he moaned, his eyes shutting after and his jaw rolling when he saw her buck her ass up to try and meet him wherever he was behind her.

“God, you are just a good for nothing little Formula 1 whore aren’t you?” He breathed out, his hands sliding to cup her ass and squeezing, relishing in the scarlet rash of skin that came and went with a blink of an eye.

“You’d like to think so,” she quietly quipped, his hands suddenly freezing on her ass.

“Oh...is that so? Well, then…” and at that he slowly began to squeeze again until she was squirming, then bringing his hand down to the centre of her ass, a loud smack echoing in the room. She cried into the towel and bucked her ass towards him once again.

“Yes, yes, I’m a Formula 1 whore,” she wept, Fred chuckling and positioning his cock at her entrance, just barely letting his tip brush her cunt.

“What if I just stayed here, hmm? Didn’t even let you have my cock, just gave you a taste of what it would be like to get fucked by me and go use another checkered flag slut instead, that sound good, baby?” He said crisply, trying not to let the tortured feeling of his cock get to him.

“Fred, I-“ and with a final growl, Fred pushed himself to the brim inside her once more. She cried out his name into the towel, his free hand not bracing himself from behind pushing her head into the towel. He was devouring every noise that came from her mouth, mostly strained cries and pants that registered with every crack of his hips inside her. He felt her near her release again, his as well, his hips losing tempo.

“Gonna marry you and stuff you with aaaall my babies, isn’t that right princess? Gonna make my trophy wife swell up, you won’t be able to even fathom seeing that pretty pussy of yours in the morning” He panted, groaning at the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in her - in his - cunt.

“Please, wanna be so full, of your...of your babies, Fred,” she whimpered, his name falling from her lips like alphabet soup as she, with a final rock of her ass against him, came undone around him. He gripped her hips and with a sharp “I love you, fuck” followed her in the same way, his hips rolling ever so gently back into her to soothe their highs.

After a moment he pulled out of her, dismantling the baby hairs sticking to her forehead out the way, pressing kiss after kiss there.

“Weasley, you got any car plush toys on you by chance?” She quipped, prompting a grin from Fred and a chaste kiss to her lips and nose.

“No, but the Babies R Us near home might…”

—

The second you were parked up, George had his hand snaked around the back of your neck pulling you in to peck your lips over and over, warm and comforting giggles slipping from your lips between every kiss. The trip up to your room took twice the time it would usually take, stopping frequently to evade the hotel staff, as well as missing your floor entirely in the elevator; too distracted by the taste of his lips and the way his hands gripped desperately at your hips.

Once well inside your hotel room, you found yourself underneath him, hair sprawled out beneath you as he marvelled at your beauty. A toothy grin spread across his lips before his head ducked down to press a kiss just below your ear, sucking a deep purple mark against your warm skin as a giggle erupted through his throat, the vibrations causing you to do the same, hands pressed against his shoulders to push him away.

“Good lord, woman, I love you.” He breathed out, his lips moving to press a kiss to your forehead. You sighed out a moan as his fingers slipped underneath the hem of your shirt, bunching the fabric up as he pushed it up your torso and over your bra, exposing the plain but gorgeous lace.

His lips soon pressed against your exposed skin, sucking mark after mark down the valley of your breasts, humming in satisfaction at the way you writhed beneath him as your hands wove through his soft, ginger locks, tousling them perfectly as you giggled together.

“You may have won today, Georgie, but I’m winning now.” You whined, keeping him pulled close to you as his free hand snuck just underneath the hem of your skirt, fingers brushing against your sensitive clit as he swallowed each and every moan, taking pleasure in slipping the flimsy lace to the side to sink his fingers into you quickly and with no mercy, letting you chant his name as you begged for more.

It didn’t take much for him to oblige, hardly pulling away from you to slip his cock free, teasing your entrance for a moment before he was pushing slowly into you, letting you get used to the feeling of the first few inches, only for him to pull back out, chuckling darkly at the way you writhed against the sheets. “Baby please, don’t tease me like that.”

He pouted mockingly, dipping his head down to press a slow and intimate kiss to your lips, nose nudging against yours before he mumbled into the kiss, letting you lean into it. “As you wish, princess.”

Almost all at once, you felt him move your hips to the right position, continuing to tease you as he sank slowly into you, not daring to pull away again as he eyed the way your face contorted with pleasure, your hands slipping under the thin t-shirt, he wore, pulling it over his head and tossing it across the room, your nails dragging down the freshly exposed skin, pulling a groan from him.

“I’m gonna fuck you so deep, bub, gonna make you scream and give you a baby.” He groaned, hands pressing your head down to the mattress as he cradled it, hot breath fanning over your face as his slow thrusts pulled moan after moan from you.

His strong arm hooked underneath you, pulling you up and into his chest, as his hips continued in pushing in and out of you at the most antagonising pace. He smirked at the way your head immediately fell to rest on his shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut from the new angle.

“Bet you’re loving this aren’t you? Not so bold anymore, angel.” His gravelly voice rumbled through your ear, hand gripping that little bit tighter as he felt your small shallow breaths growing deeper at the intensely slow lovemaking you were far from expecting tonight.

“I’m still bold.” You whispered, nudging forward to pull his earlobe between your teeth before peppering sloppy, wet kisses along his neck.

“Funny one, love.” He smirked, beginning to pick the pace up a notch, enough to bring the hanging release down on you, pushing you to be clenching around him as you begged for it. “I knew you’d like that.”

He had a way of completely dumbfounding you, making you lost for words, finding yourself against the sheets fully again, this time he had hooked your legs over his shoulders only to lean down and press his lips to yours, all the time his skilled fingers toyed with your clit.

You felt as if every sense had been awoken, stimulated by his very touch like a fire had been lit around you, pulling you into the embrace of the flames as you found yourself screaming his name, the inevitable high falling over you.

“That’s it, baby, doing so good for me…” He breathed heavily, his lips pressing to your forehead as he continued to ride out your high, his own release painting your walls as he fucked it into you, pulling true on his promise of filling you up.

You felt so full, his love washing through you from head to toe as he lazily kissed you, slipping your legs off his shoulders to pull you back into his arms, keeping himself bottomed out inside of you.

“I’m dead serious about giving you a baby, princess.” He chuckled, hand trailing up and down your back as he traced languid shapes into your soft skin.

“Good, I’m dead serious about having your baby.”

—

Fred knocked on the door, his foot tapping on the carpet outside George’s hotel room. He was always a fidgety man, but today would be all too different for the eldest Weasley twin.

He knocked once more, altogether considering just going home and leaving a lengthy but probably nonsense voicemail, if not entirely fueled by alcohol then by sheer force of nature that was his fiancé alone.

He had decided on giving up, his legs stretching as he turned around. But then the door opened, the equally messy haired ginger behind it looking so much calmer and more serene than Fred ever could.

“Heya, Georgie,” Fred breathed out. George would never have said it out loud, but Fred looked like absolute death. He could tell his older brother had gotten little to no sleep, his eyes sunken in. He knew Fred was hurting, and George never was one to rub it in. If anything, George would always be the one who understood him the most, they rarely ever had to apologize to each other for things like this, their souls simply understanding when pain was evident.

“Morning, Freddie…” George spoke warmly, crossing his arms over his chest for a moment, smiling lazily at his twin as he pondered his next move. “D’you wanna come in?”

“Yeah...yeah, that’d be nice,” he swallowed, smiling softly at his slightly younger (but in many ways, much older) twin.

George stepped aside, letting his brother in as he shut the door behind him. He rubbed his hands together, a smile that rounded his cheeks on his face as he sensed the awkwardness in the room. This wasn’t like them at all. “Everyone missed you yesterday, Fred, parties aren’t the same without you.”

“As in, no one drank all the rum and Coke at the party without me is what I’m hearing?” He cracked a small smile, attempting to avoid as much eye contact with Georgie that wasn’t necessary.

“George, I’m so sorry.” He said softly, his jaw stilling.

“You don’t have to apologise, Fred.”

“No, but I do. I...I know how special being behind the wheel is to you, and you’re right. I don’t know what it means to win, at least not like you, and...George, you’re my best friend, stupid.” He aggressively wiped under his eyes. “I want to be happy for you and lately I haven’t even been thankful for you and that isn’t fair, mate, I...I love you. So much.”

“I feel like I was losing you there, Freddie, I’ve hardly seen you, we don’t talk unless it’s a press conference and just… Fuck I hate this, I miss being able to call you and talk about all the dumb things we can do together.” George sighed, looking up to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling.

Fred’s, however, were already hitting the ground. “I hate it too, Georgie...I hate it so much. It’s fun, being a racer like you - with you - but I just...I want to fix your tires again, man” he tearfully chuckled, watching George do the same. “I want to say stupid shit like ‘baby brother, your blinker fluid is out’ over the headset and listen to you cuss me out, and I want to be able to know I’m still on your team at the end of the day.” He curled his lip inward. “That’s all I’ve wanted. Is to be on your team.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to win without you, when you’re out there making sure that everything is okay I just know my big brother is there looking out for me and I miss it, I miss telling everyone that it was you who made it possible, Freddie, you’re my star man.” George smiled, scratching his arm nervously, wanting nothing more than for things to be like old times.

Fred let out a breathy laugh, his eyes still brimming with fresh tears. “I’m the last one to thank, you big wanker, I don’t drive the damn thing constantly, that’s all you and your foolishness.” He swallowed. “I just...if you’ll have me back, I already talked to the Wood Brothers and everything but um...there’s a deal where I would be able to also drive once a month or so, and be your Pit Crew Pit Bull the other races. If that was okay with you - I want to be there with you again.” His knee bounced in the silence, his guilt and fear bouldering in his throat.

“I’d want nothing more than to have you back, I think it’ll be good for you to still stay driving, you have to get that adrenaline fill somewhere… I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you, proud of what you’ve achieved.” George smiled, the toothy grin brightening up the room as the awkwardness seemed to fade. “Even though you do become a cocky bastard sometimes.”

Fred scoffed and rolled his eyes. “One does not become a cocky bastard, Georgie-kins, one is a cocky bastard...also, I have to be,” he said getting up and moving to where George was sitting. “if I’m going up against my snot-nosed little brother who’s getting married and is going to expect me to babysit for a thousand hateful children,” he waggled his eyebrows and threw a pillow at him. “But thank you...I mean that. You know you’re easily the best on that track every time. Every time. I’m...I'm proud to be your twin, Georgie.”

“I don’t know how I survived without your brilliant humour gracing us all, Freddie, I truly missed the inspiring wit,” George chuckled, gently nudging his twin with his fist, “After all, you’re not too bad of a brother to have, not everyone can be me but you’re as close as anyone’s gonna get.” He smirked, eyebrow raised as he looked over to his twin.

“I truly am so distraught I did not destroy you in the womb when I had the shot, but here’s to the wish anyway,” full on slamming George in the face with the pillow and howling at the action. “Top that, bitch,” he barked.

“It’s on now.” George laughed, throwing the pillow back at his brother, sending an eruption of laughter echoing around the hotel room, the two boys flinging cushions around like there was no tomorrow.

But the laughter didn’t end, only continuing as loud roars and giggles as time passed. You found yourself swinging your legs out of bed, trudging towards the source of the noise, only to find feathers everywhere and the twins laughing together in a childlike manner. “Could the two of you be any more loud?”

“Sorry, baby… didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Yeah, sorry, Y/N.” Fred chimed in.

“You’re damn lucky it isn’t early, Weasley.” You sighed, rolling your eyes as you shuffled off towards the warm embrace of the morning shower, thankful to see the twins as they should be, happy and together once again.

A/N // so phia and i have pretty much decided that we’re gonna keep this going so... part IV coming sooooon ;))))

taglist // @slytherinsunrise @gcdricreads @theweasleysredhair @vogueweasley @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @witch-and-a-half @loony-loopy-lupinn @rip-us @hopemalfoyweasley @whizboingies @pansydaisy @darthwheezely @lumos-barnes @starlightweasley @valwritesx @weelittleweasley

#NASCAR Series #george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #george weasley angst #fred weasley fic #fred and george #gred and forge #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x oc #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter writing #harry potter smut

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

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Hiya, I was wondering if I could please request 3 (Echo) with B+O (Injury/sickness recovery + first kiss)? I don’t really mind who’s in recovery or whether it’s 501st echo/bad batch echo, I just thought these prompts would lead nicely into a confession between our two main characters; also I just want to say I love your writing!! ❤️

Aww, thank you so much for the request and for being so kind, Anon! Sorry this took forever, but I’ve been stuck in an idea block for a week or two, and I ended up writing about four different versions of this. You’re very sweet, but you probably shouldn’t be nice to me, because apparently, it makes me write one-shots that are way too long. So here’s a 2700 word one-shot...

Also! It ended up being a tad spicy toward the end. Nothing anywhere close to M-rating, but more than I usually write in one-shots.

Echo + Injury/Sickness Recovery + First Kiss

The first time you met Echo, you didn't like him very much.

You were in the medbay for a sickness that was taking Coruscant by storm, hitting nat-born GAR members especially hard. As a nat-born intelligence officer, you had been ordered to the GAR's main medbay, which had been sub-divided into large bays full of cots. Almost every cot was filled with GAR personnel who needed treatment for the same sickness.

It wouldn't have been bad if you had been able to take the meds right away and start the healing process, but you had been on a dangerous mission and fought the sickness off for longer than you should have. It had worked and you had survived your mission, but you were severely dehydrated. The medics - all clone troopers, by that point - had ordered you to stay until you were fully healed and they could get your fluid levels back where they should have been. Faced with no other options, you had agreed.

And then the 501st had arrived.

Through your IV, you had gotten through half a bag of a liquid you preferred not to think too hard about. The medics promised that your meds would be kicking in soon, and you would feel much better before the day was over. For the moment, you felt nauseated and every part of your body ached, especially your head.

When the troopers came in, their white armor painted with blue accents in various styles, they were so loud that the rest of the medbay went quiet.

One of the medics, his hair shaved short to show off a set of intricate tattoos, hurried up to them as he pulled off his gloves. You could hear his hissed question from your bed on the other side of the large room. "What are you idiots doing here?"

One of the men beamed at him. "We're in trouble!"

You scoffed to yourself. You had no difficulty believing they had gotten on someone's bad side.

The tattooed medic rubbed his temples. "Hardcase… what did you guys do now?"

You had heard stories about the rowdy 501st from other operatives. They were supposed to be a nightmare to work alongside, all explosions and heroics without any grasp of subtlety.

One of the other men stepped forward and seemed to be offering an explanation, but he did it in a voice pitched low enough that you couldn't hear him. You were grateful for that, and did your best to fall asleep.

It wasn't to be, however, as one of the 501st made his way down the row of beds in your direction. He chatted with some of the other patients, laughing loudly at their responses. By the time he reached you, you could have cheerfully put a blaster to the 5 tattooed on his temple.

"And how are you doing today?" the trooper belted out.

"In a lot of pain, actually," you snapped at him, a visceral response to the effect his voice had on your roiling stomach. "Can you please talk more quietly?"

There. A please. You were being polite.

"If I'm quiet, does that mean I can stay over here with you, pretty lady?" he asked with a wink, settling onto the foot of your bed.

You eyed him stonily. You felt revolting from the effects of the sickness, and you were wearing a GAR-issued medical gown besides. ‘Pretty’ was an attempt at flattery, and not even a believable one.

"Fives," the medic with the head tattoos admonished, stepping up to your bedside as well. "Stop. She doesn't feel well and she doesn't need you hanging around, making it worse."

"Me?" Fives asked, sounding both shocked and offended. "We both know I only make things better, Kix."

You sighed and wished with your whole soul that they would both go away. You just wanted to sleep.

"Besides," Fives continued, "We were ordered to help in the medbay. You wouldn't want me to disobey orders, would you?"

From the look on Kix's face, he had lined up a scathing retort that you were dying to hear, but you needed to make a brief announcement. "If this conversation continues right here, I am going to vomit."

You had never seen two grown men move so quickly. You would have smiled if you didn't feel so rotten.

"Echo," Kix called softly with a worried glance in your direction, beckoning yet another trooper over.

This one had no tattoos, but you vaguely recognized him as the only trooper you hadn't been able to overhear earlier.

"Get Fives away from here," Kix ordered. "Keep him productive and occupied, but don't let him talk."

Echo nodded and gave you an apologetic nod. "I'm sorry about him," he said, indicating Fives, who looked deeply offended.

"Please," was the only response you could muster, cradling your head delicately in your hands. From the bit of your peripheral vision that wasn’t blocked by your palms, you watched his shoulders slump slightly as he towed his brother away. When you finally fell asleep, your dreams were full of Echo’s disappointed face along with strong feelings of guilt.

The second time you met him was only a few hours later. You were having fever dreams. The medication had apparently worn off and no one had noticed. In your dreams, you had called a medic over a dozen times, but you always woke to find that you hadn’t said a thing, and fell asleep again before you could.

It was one of these shallow, fitful dreams that Echo interrupted. “Hey. Hey! Shhh, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

Thoroughly confused by the world of the surrounding medbay, you squinted up at him. “Echo?” He nodded and you launched right into the speech you had prepared in your sleep. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I just… my head hurt, and you guys are loud, and-”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Echo assured you, crouching by your bedside to put himself on your level. “The 501st - and Fives in particular - is very loud. It’s our best quality.”

You snorted at that and Echo’s kind face broke into a warm smile. “You should get back to sleep. It’s really late. Or early. I’m not sure which, but everyone else is asleep, and you should be, too.”

“I think I need some meds, actually,” you admitted. “I feel like death.”

Echo frowned and reached up to brush his fingers over your forehead, flinching back almost immediately. “Kriff, you’re burning up! Hang on, let me grab a medic for you.”

You nodded, but grabbed his wrist before he could leave, “If you bring me some water, I’ll love you forever.”

It was just a childish hyperbole, something you and your family had said whenever you had asked for a favor, particularly a minor one. Echo didn’t seem to have the same connection with it, based on the way he had frozen in place and was staring at you with wide eyes that flashed between your face and your grip on his wrist.

Clearing your throat, you released him and corrected yourself. “I mean, please? I’m very thirsty.”

Echo turned around a moment later and you sighed, hoping your hot face looked like the flush of a fever.

You were half-drowsing when Echo came back with Kix in tow. You jumped a bit when Kix said your name, and Echo was quick to soothe you. “Easy, easy. It’s just us.”

He handed you the biggest glass of water you had ever seen and retreated halfway across the medbay before you had chugged half of it.

The next day, you were actually feeling better. Granted, ‘better’ was a relative term, but you didn’t actively want to die any more, and that was something. The only thing messing up your day was the lingering awkwardness between you and Echo. Every time his circuit around the room took him past your cot, he would avoid your eyes.

From your calculations, he looped around the gigantic medbay room every six minutes or so. On his next lap past, you softly asked, “Echo?”

You had meant to be subtle and quiet, but you were still a bit less hydrated than you should have been, and it came out as a horrifying croak. If someone had called your name in that voice, you would have immediately run away, but Echo just turned slightly and looked your direction.

“I’m sorry for last night,” you apologized.

“You already said that,” Echo reminded you gently. “The 501st is loud. I understand why you weren’t happy with us.”

“Not about that,” you forced out, half-wishing you could just let him think you had been delirious with fever and thus not responsible for anything you had said or done. “I mean that I’m sorry for saying the whole love you forever thing. It was a joke, but I feel like it landed poorly.”

“There’s no need, really,” Echo told you. He smiled then, a small sad smile. “We clones don’t get to see much good in the universe. Not with this war going on. Even though you were joking, it was nice to hear something like that.”

You stared at him, trying to keep the poker face the GAR had hired you for.

“Besides,” Echo said with a laugh, “if you want to see how a bad joke really sounds, hang out with Fives for a few minutes. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to see the difference!”

You chuckled at that and the smile he gave lit his whole face as he continued his patrol. You watched Echo leave, thinking hard. It was ironic that this was the conversation where your heart had melted just a touch. It wasn’t love, not yet, but this third exchange left feelings that were inappropriate considering that you had known him for less than a day.

That night, you couldn’t sleep, betrayed by all of the napping you had done during the day. Echo was patrolling the room again and noticed you on his fourth lap.

He crouched by your bedside once again. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope,” you admitted with a sigh. “Can you?”

Echo frowned. “I can, but I’m on watch right now.”

“On watch,” you repeated skeptically. “For what?”

“Someone has to make sure the patients are doing okay while the medics sleep,” he explained. “It’s a very important job.”

“Your brothers are all playing sabacc in the corner,” you pointed out. “Go join them. Or, better yet, get some sleep. I haven’t seen you take a break yet.”

“You were unconscious for over half of the day,” Echo reminded you. “I could have been on break then.”

“You weren’t,” you told him confidently. “Because you wouldn’t have known that I slept the whole time.”

Echo frowned. “You’re too smart to work for the army.”

“Intelligence officer,” you explained simply.

Lifting his eyebrows in exaggerated shock, Echo leapt to his feet and gave a dramatic salute. You pretended to aim a kick in his direction and you both dissolved into muffled giggles in an attempt not to wake any of the other patients.

“If you won’t try to sleep, at least sit down?” you requested, indicating the foot of your cot as you struggled to sit up so you could move out of his way. “You’re stressing me out. I can’t be expected to get better if I’m stressed.”

“We can’t have that,” Echo teased. He helped you sit up before he did anything else, but the awkwardness of the position left him hauling you up by your armpits. You were thankful that you had found the strength to walk to the sonic shower that day, at least. “Not like I can get sick from you, anyway.”

Echo sat talking with you for hours, even after his brothers had all drifted off at their sabacc table. Before you fell asleep again, he brought you another giant glass of water. You accepted it with a smile. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

He nodded and left so you could get some sleep. By the time you had finished the glass, he was on the other side of the medbay and couldn’t hear you mutter, “Love you forever.”

For the next few days, Echo lived by your bedside. The conversations you had made you laugh so hard that you went into the occasional coughing fit and got the evil eye from Kix. So, you were less pleased than you had expected to be when Kix told you that you could be discharged the following day.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Getting your sleep pattern back under control was going to be the biggest struggle, you reflected, staring at the massive beams supporting the ceiling.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Echo teased, walking up. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

You waved a hand around dramatically. “I’m trying to commit these beautiful surroundings to memory. If I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll need to remember the enchanting way the dust clings to that wall over there.”

Suddenly serious, Echo asked, “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

You nodded, and couldn’t tell if it was your imagination, or if he really looked disappointed. Still, he mustered a smile. “I’m glad.”

With a falsely offended gasp, you replied, “You’re glad I’m leaving? That’s rude!”

“No, I mean-!” Echo sputtered, grimacing at you when you started to laugh. “I’m glad you’re getting better. Even if you’re just as mean as the day I met you.”

“Yeah, I’m terrible,” you agreed with a grin.

“You are not,” he countered immediately. “You’re sweet and funny and- I’ll miss you. Selfish, huh?”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you admitted. “I guess we’re both selfish. But, hey, you’ll finally get some sleep now!”

“I suppose I will,” Echo said with the ghost of his usual smile. “At least we can have one last overnight conversation. Unless you’re too tired?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sit down, Echo.”

The two of you talked for hours that night. The medbay steadily got more silent and your eyes began to ache. Try as you might, you were still recovering from your illness and the point came when you couldn’t fight it off any longer. You fell into a light doze as Echo was talking.

You were dimly aware as he finished his sentence and waited for a response, but you couldn’t make yourself say anything. Echo gave an amused sounding hum and stood from your cot. You immediately missed his warmth, but felt like he was still standing by you.

Soft lips pressed against your forehead and left as Echo started to move away. “What was that cop-out bantha dung?” you asked blearily.

Echo jumped a bit and stared down at you, but you were half-asleep, impulsive, and you knew what you wanted. You sat up to grab his shoulders and brought him back down to you, kissing him with as much fervor as an extremely tired person could muster.

He kissed you back, opening his mouth to release an almost-soundless groan, and you were suddenly wide awake. With both of you actively participating in your embrace, it didn’t take long for the pair of you to get carried away.

When you finally broke apart, it was only because someone had cleared their throat sharply.

Echo pulled back, bracing on his forearms to look up at Kix while you peered at the medic from under Echo’s chest. When had he gotten on top of you? His hip brushed against your upper thigh and you abruptly didn’t care anymore.

“I take it you’re well enough to be released from here?” Kix asked, a raised brow accentuating his smirk.

You glanced around to find that half of the medbay was awake and staring at you and Echo with expressions ranging from bleary bewilderment to amused approval. Some of Echo’s brothers were awake as well, though their faces ran heavily to outright shock.

“Uh, yeah. I’m ready to go home,” you agreed, glancing up at Echo. “Wanna come with me?”

Echo nodded and glanced up at Kix. The medic shrugged and looked at the ceiling. “No, I have no idea where Echo went. He worked several around the chrono shifts and then he disappeared. I assume he went to get some well-deserved rest. Sign here.”

The last part was directed at you and you obligingly scrawled your name on the datapad he was holding out in your direction.

“Your personal effects are in the front room,” Kix informed you. “Drink some water now and then, would you?”

“Of course, thanks,” you said absently, attention already stolen away by the fascinating blush creeping up Echo’s cheeks. You slipped out from under him and grabbed his hand to tow him behind you. “C’mon. You’re gonna love my apartment.”

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A/N - ahh, why did this end up being such a novel? Sorry about that! If you want to read similar works, check out my masterlist or make a request based on this post (or make something up and I’ll do my best!). Thanks for reading!

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw fanfic #tcw #echo #echo x you #echo x reader #kix #fives #illness #first kiss #star wars fanfiction #fic request

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