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yeollie-plz · 2 months

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Light The Flame

mbf! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

Genre: fluff, angst, and smut! the trifecta!

Warnings: divorced parents, mentions of cheating, no Sarah, no outbreak, drinking, age gap (reader is said to be in college but Joel's exact age isn't stated), Tommy is a bit of a sleaze, kissing, 18+ content, p in v sex, protected sex!, lots of different sexual acts, cursing

Gif credits to owners!

Inspired by this post from @deathsholywaterr ! I hope I did your idea justice!!

Also this shit is long so buckle up!

It had been about three months since your parents' divorce was officially finalized. Your dad had moved out long ago and with no other ties keeping her in California, she decided to move back to her hometown in Texas. And although you would miss your friends and the life you had in LA, you couldn't shake the feeling that you needed (and deserved) a change. Plus, you had just found out your boyfriend was sleeping with your so called best friend. So, yeah, you wanted to get out as soon as possible.

All of your stuff was packed into a moving van and moved across the United States. You knew Texas would be super different, but a welcome change. Not to mention a chance to reinvent yourself. Taking college classes and finding your path in life, that was the goal. But, of course, a girl still needs to have a bit of fun and you and you had heard Texas nightlife was very fun!

That's how you found yourself, perched on a barstool, at a downtown Austin bar, listening to drunk people sing karaoke only hours after unpacking your clothes. You giggled lightly to yourself as a very drunk man hit a way too high note. Rotating the barstool around to place your now empty glass on the counter and just as you were about to motion the bar tender over to order another a man settled in next to you. He leaned against the counter, a bit closer to you than you would've liked.

"Hello gorgeous, how 'bout you let me get you a drink?" His words slurred together as the smell of the beer on his breath wafted towards you. Your nose scrunched in disgust.

"How about no?" Your tone was sweet, but your words were not as you batted your eyelashes at the man. He was cute, but you weren't exactly in the mood for flirting especially with someone as intoxicated as him.

"Come on, one drink. We don't even gotta have a conversation, just wanna know your name. I'm Tommy by the way." He held out his hand, with how close he was it almost hit you in the face. You recoiled.

That's when a different man appeared next to the two of you, he grabbed Tommy by the bicep and yanked his hand back. Then pulled his body a few feet away from you, finally giving you the space you had been wanting the whole time.

"I'm sorry about him, sugar. My brother is an idiot and I'm an idiot for thinking he'd be okay alone for five minutes." He turns to Tommy. "Can't even let me pee, without causing me problems, can you?"

Trying to hold back your smile, you flattened out your skirt, getting rid of the imaginary wrinkles in it. The brother's eyes lock onto your hands, seemingly just now taking you in. He gulps as his eyes glaze over, then clears his throat.

"I really am sorry about him. Here, let me buy you a drink." He says and you almost giggle at how badly the two brothers want to buy you alcohol.

"Don't worry about it! Sadly, I am used to drunk men coming up to me. I appreciate it though, but honestly I should get home." He looks lost in thought, like he's debating offering to drive you home. But just as he opens his mouth Tommy slips and falls, almost taking his brother down with him. Then, who you're assuming is the older one tries to get him back to his feet.

He continues to struggle to get Tommy up, as you stand from your seat after placing a few dollars onto the bar for tip. Tommy drops to the floor again and he sighs. Ruffling through his pocket he pulls out his card and hands it to you.

With a quick, "If you ever want that drink." Before getting Tommy to his feet and pushing him back to where they must have been sitting. You glance at the card wanting to know his name.

Joel

A few days later, you found yourself at the grocery store. You wandered aimlessly through the aisles. Half in an attempt to orientate yourself with the new areas and half just looking for what sounded good. You wanted snacks, just weren't sure what exactly. As you pushed your now pretty full cart down the wine aisle, you saw a familiar face at the other end.

You tracked him with your eyes for a second before his met yours. A smile graced his lips, eyebrows raising in surprise. Honestly you were surprised yourself. Not only did he recognize you, but he was happy to see you.

Making his way towards you, he offered you a small wave, which you returned. Your cheeks heated up slightly, you remembered he was attractive, but now in the bright florescence it showed even more. Glancing down at your outfit, you cursed yourself for not putting in just a bit more effort this morning.

"Hello again." Joel said when he finally made it over to you.

"Hello again," You mirrored his words, "Wasn't sure you would recognize me just now." You cursed yourself at the words you let slip out. Insecurities on full display.

"Of course I would recognize that beautiful face again." He says nonchalantly, like he didn't just openly call you beautiful. Like he didn't just openly flirt with you!

Cheeks flushed, you cleared your throat, "Did...uh...did you and Tommy get home alright?" He smiles like you've said something funny.

"We did, you?" Awkwardly, you shift your weight.

"I did."

He looks at you with the same smile from before, something mischievous now playing in his eyes. Cocking his head at you, he looks like he is trying to get you to say more.

"You never called, don't want that drink, sugar?" Now you are adorning a playful look back. He was scared you weren't going to call him?

"I was getting to it." You say, simply. Not wanting to come off too desperate, but also not letting his hopes get dashed.

"I was really looking forward to seeing you again." Joel takes a step closer to you.

"I might be at the bar sometime this weekend, maybe you will." At your words his eyes darken slightly. He knows you are toying with him.

Taking one more step towards you he leans down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, "Maybe I will." And he's trying to play back. He smirks at you before offering you another wave and walking off into the depths of the store.

You are left there, blinking and blushing at his retreating figure.

That weekend, you were doing your makeup oh so precisely. The dress you had picked out hugged your figure perfectly. You wore your best heels. Your hair was meticulous. Now to just hope Joel showed.

It's not like the two of you picked a specific day or time so what if he wasn't there? You couldn't think like that, you could only hope for the best and look your best too.

As you pushed open the door of the same bar you had first met Joel at the cool air washed over you, causing you to shiver. That's when your eyes met with his. It was almost like he had his eyes trained onto the door, just waiting for you to arrive. It looked like he chuckled at your shiver as he stood and made his way over to you.

"Cold princess?" His head cocked at you in amusement.

You crossed your arms, "Actually I'm just fine." And with a nod you saunter past him and towards the bar to order a drink.

He follows closely behind him and you just know he's smirking at your response. Joel lets you attempt, and fail, to gain the bartenders attention. Before he places a hand lightly on your shoulder and nods as if to say "watch this".

Bringing his fingers to his lips he blows out a loud whistle, your eyes widen in shock. He smirks down at you before making eye contact with the bar tender who is now staring incredulously at Joel.

"Joe, think you can get my girl here a drink?" My girl? He didn't mean it like that, he couldn't have.

"Only since she's so pretty. But you? I've told you about doing that, Miller. So annoying." The bartender, Joe, mumbles the last part more to himself but both you and Joel hear it. Joel laughs behind you, you feel the rumble of his chest against your back. A shiver runs down your spine.

He leans down, talking into your ear, "Sure you aren't cold?"

You roll your eyes, he knows what he's doing. Actually, he's doing it on purpose. Letting out a scoff, you readjust your position on the stool allowing your body to graze against Joel's a bit more. His hand reaches out to grip the edge of the bar. You can feel his eyes boring into you, his knuckles are turning white. Yep, you know what you're doing as well.

And just as Joel was about to say something else to you, Joe comes back with two drinks in hand. He passes a smaller glass to Joel, with what you assume is scotch in it. Then he passes a taller glass with a mixed drink in it to you. Its the same drink you got the other night you came in and you wonder how Joe remembered. But you brush it off as good customer service and take a sip of your fruity drink.

Joel smirks down at you as you are obviously enjoying your drink ad sips his as well. The ice clinks in his glass when he sits down the half empty vessel next to you.

Once again, he speaks into your ear, "Why don't we find a booth?" Nodding in response, he holds his hand out to you to help you off of the stool. You can't help the blush that rises to your cheeks at how much of a gentleman he is.

The two of you sat and talked for hours. Subtle flirts, learning about each other, anything and everything. Although you weren't sure you were ready for a relationship after the train wreck that was your last one, you enjoyed Joel's company and it seemed like he enjoyed yours. Plus, it didn't hurt to just have a strictly physical relationship, did it?

Thats how you found yourself agreeing to another date with Joel. Thats how you found yourself moving your hips into his on the dance floor. And thats how you found yourself in his bed later that night.

Currently he was sitting on the edge of the bed, your legs straddling his as you kissed fervently. Your hips moved seemingly on their own, grinding your clothed core down onto his jean clad member. He groans into your mouth when you grind down even rougher. Big hands grip onto your hips, stilling your movements.

"Careful princess." His voice is deep as he mutters into your lips before catching them in a deep kiss again. This causes you to now let out a moan. Damnit if you weren't the most turned on you've ever been.

Joel seems to catch onto the faster movements of your hips, knowing you need more. His lips trial down your neck to the juncture of your shoulder, he bits you lightly before licking over the marks. You gasp, bucking your hips forward at the feeling. He smirks against your skin and moves his lips down your exposed chest. Silently thanking yourself for wearing such a low cut top.

Lips ghost against the skin of your breast before he pulls your shirt aside to let one boob out of its constraints. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and that's when you fully loose yourself into the pleasure. If you weren't fucked before, you sure were now. Well...you were going to be soon hopefully.

Pulling off of your bud, his breath fans over the sensitive skin causing a shiver to run down your spine. Something flashes in his eyes as a smirk graces his lips.

"Either you're always cold or I really have an effect on you." He says, craning his neck back towards your lips. You roll your eyes before he's meeting lips with your own and flipping you over to lay on the bed.

Your head lands all but gracefully on the plush surface, his lips never leaving yours. The hands that were on your hips, now explored your body leaving goosebumps in their wake. One massaged your still covered breast, the other slowly made its way up the inside of your thigh. His fingers tentatively crossed over your core and up to the buttons of your pants. Your need to have him inside of you grew stronger as you lifted your hips involuntarily, trying to urge him to take of your pants.

"So desperate." Is all Joel says before he is popping open the first button. Then the next. Then the next. Slowly he unbuttons them all and pulls your pants just as slowly down your legs. The pace makes you whimper out.

He was right, you were desperate. But with how slow he was going, who wouldn't be?

"I want to taste that pretty pussy." Joel says as he finally makes eye contact with your lacy underwear.

"Please, I just want you inside me." He gives you a look at your words, like he wasn't sure you meant it. Or he wasn't sure you were that ready?

"Next time, please Joel just fuck me already."

He seems to contemplate this for a second, but ultimately agrees, "Your wish is my command."

He slips out of his own shirt and quickly slides his jeans off too. Standing there in just his underwear, you swear you could pass out from the view alone. But your head was too cloudy to say anything. Joel seemed to see the lust in your eyes and just shook his head before grabbing a condom from the nightstand.

"Take your shirt off for me, sugar." Its a bit more of a request than a command but you follow it like it was an order. You had to admit it was a bit sexy to be told what to do.

"Good girl, let me see how wet you are." He stands over you while stroking his hardening dick through his underwear. You watch in awe before following his instructions and pull your own panties off of you.

Spreading your legs, you display your pussy to him and he groans at the sight. He strokes himself a bit faster as you slide your fingers through your soaked folds. Fingers dip into your opening and you hold back your reaction, keeping your eyes locked onto his. When your fingers are thoroughly coated in your juice, you trail them up your torso to your mouth. Sucking your fingers in and licking them clean.

Darkness fills Joel's eyes as he decides this is the last straw and he is on top of you in a instant. Pulling your fingers out of your mouth he shoves them into his own, swirling his tongue around your digits.

Quickly he pushes off of you just to take off his underwear and slip the condom onto his painfully hard penis. You gulp at the sight, mouth watering like you've been in a desert for days. You make a note that next time you must also taste him.

But, these thoughts leave your head as quickly as they came because Joel is pushing his member into you. As the tip breaches your entrance, you are gasping and gripping onto his arms for support. You feel his muscles tensing under your fingertips as he begrudgingly paces himself, trying to let you adjust

You almost giggle at the pained look on his face. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hook your ankles together and pull him the rest of the way inside of you. He has to catch himself from falling on top of you from both a mixture of shock and the forceful nature of your movement.

Eyes meet yours with a shocked look. You just give him a smirk and a shrug in return. Regaining his composure, he pulls out of almost completely. So painfully slowly that you almost keel over. You know its your punishment for what you had done and you were feeling the full force of your actions.

But, the punishing doesn't last long as he enters you again. He thrusts out to his tip again only quicker and rougher. Continuing this action of thrusting in and out of you picking up a tempo.

After letting out another moan when he slams into you particularly hard, you crane you neck slightly to see the look on his face. He seems to have fully lost himself in the pleasure. The teasing is all lost and he is now fully focused on getting you both to your orgasms.

Joel is now fucking into you with no more reservations. He reaches a hand between the two of you, using his thumb to rub your clit. He rubs the bud in circles, trying to work you towards your peak.

"Cum for me, princess." He says with a grunt, gripping your hips roughly. His hips snap into yours roughly.

You feel the beginnings of your orgasm. The coil in your stomach begins to tighten. Your hips buck up at the feeling, needing to orgasm.

"Joel!" You gasp out as you are pushed over the edge. You clench around his cock, pussy urging him to cum as well.

Working you through your orgasm, he continues his motions on your clit. He thrusts are getting a bit out of rhythm as he is also reaching his own peak. Leaning over you he reattaches his lips to yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

As his hips stutter into yours he is thrusting into you one last time before spilling his load into the condom. Joel moans into your mouth as he works himself through his orgasm. Hips slow down as his orgasm ends and Joel is plopping down next to you. Wrapping you in his arms as his member is still inside of you.

All that is heard in the room is heavy breathing for a minute as Joel's sweaty body surrounds yours. You look up at him and his eyes meet yours. A smile graces his lips before he is pecking your nose and bringing you even closer to him.

Eventually, he pulls out of you and ties of the condom. Moving to toss it in the en suite before returning just to wrap you back into his warm embrace.

After the first time you and Joel hooked up, the two of you hung out at least three times a week. You would go to the bar, get a few drinks, talk a bit, laugh a bit. But you would always end up back at Joel's place. In his bed. In his arms.

Your mom was also starting to catch onto something going on with you. With you coming home late, giggling on your phone, smiling randomly at the thought of Joel. Not to mention, you were acting a bit shady. Even your friend noticed a change when she called you the other day.

But it was nothing but physical, right? Right...

Pushing open the door as silently as you could, you slightly stumbled into the dark house. Still a little tipsy as well as a bit of jelly legs from your earlier activities. Slipping off your shoes and picking them up so your heels wouldn't echo, you tried to reach the stairs to your room.

The minute your hand grabbed the banister, the lights in the living room flipped on like some movie scene. Your mom sat on the couch, arms crossed staring at you.

Jumping you tried to calmly greet her, "Hey mom."

"Don't 'hey mom' me, where have you been?" She was never this serious, so it scared you slightly.

"Out, I found a bar in town and I've been hanging out there." You didn't want to mention Joel just yet. One because how did you explain to your mom that you had a fuck buddy. And two that that fuck buddy was almost twice your age.

"By yourself?" Shit, she saw right through you.

"I mean, I talk to a few people there. Made friends with the bar tender. Well sort of, he's a bit serious and-"

She held up her hand to stop your rambling. You snapped your mouth shut.

"Who drove you home?" Joel had been driving you home from his house almost every time you guys hung out. He didn't like you taking a taxi that late.

You gulped, "I got a taxi."

"I know that's not true, Y/N. You're seeing someone. I can tell. You're different since we moved here and I think it has to do with someone." Your eyebrows furrow at her confession. Was she mad at you for staying out or mad at you for keeping secrets from her?

"Okay, maybe I am. I'm an adult!" You really weren't sure what she wanted to hear at this moment.

"You are, but I just want to make sure you are responsible."

Now you were rolling your eyes and crossing your arms back at her.

"Responsible? I can assure you I am." What did she think? That you were going around sleeping with randos and not using protection?

"Good," She stood up now and made her way over to you, "I just want to make sure you're okay, sweetie. After all that happened before..." She trailed off when she saw the hurt on your face at the mention of your ex.

She continued, "Anyways, I can see you're happy, so I won't pester you much about it anymore. But, can you at least try to come home earlier. You know I worry." She places a kiss on your forehead and moves past you up the stairs a bit, only turning back to hear your reply.

"I will, I'm sorry you were worried." You smile at her, she returns that smile.

Making her way to her room she shouts back one more thing before closing herself in her room, "And I wanna meet him sometime!"

This has you gulping, breathing cut short, body rigid. How were you going to get out of this one?

The next morning as you sluggishly made your way to the kitchen, you were greeted by your overly excited mother.

"Morning sweetie!" You almost cringe at her loud voice, feeling the effects of your late night.

"Morning." You grumble out, before making your way to the pantry to find something to eat.

She's humming to herself as she cooks some eggs on the stove. At first you don't think much of it, until you notice her almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. It makes you take a pause, she was excited about something and she definitely wanted to tell you about it.

"Why are you so happy?" You ask with a smile in your voice. Leaning against the pantry door, you make eye contact with her. She blushes, smiles, and then looks back down at her eggs.

"Remember how I told you I went out with a group of friends from high school the other night?" You nod recalling how she animatedly told you about that night and all the nostalgia.

"Well, we are all hanging out again tonight. I'm just excited." Now you nod in acknowledgement. But she did seem a bit more excited than just a hang out, eh whatever.

You went back to looking for your cereal, grabbing it and a bowl. While pouring your cereal into your bowl, your mom speaks again.

"Plus, I might have a man too." Jumping slightly at her confession, you almost spill your cereal. You weren't sure you were ready for her to date again. It seemed weird after your parents had just divorced. You'd never seen either of them with anyone else, just strange.

She continues without you saying anything, "We went to school together. Used to have a bit of crush on him back then, but never worked out. Anyway, he was with us that other night and when I tell you he aged well!"

Almost laughing at how your mom was acting like one of your friends. Cute little crush and everything! You still felt a bit weird about hearing something like this from her. First of all, ew! Second of all, was she ready?

"Oh, that's nice." Is all you can manage to say, before taking a bite of your cereal, that you had just finished pouring milk into.

"'That's nice.'" She repeats, setting her spatula down and not making eye contact with you.

"Yeah, mom, that's nice. It will be nice for you, after dad..." You trail off, not sure if this is a sore subject or not. The two of you didn't talk much about the divorce anymore. So you thought it better to tread lightly.

"I think so too." She says, a bit more happier now as she resumes her eggs.

Yep, it will be nice.

After your awkward breakfast with your mom, you returned to your room to text Joel. If your mom was going out, you might as well too, right?

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message. Quickly dropping whatever you were previously doing you crashed down onto your stomach on your bed. Kicking your feet as you unlocked your phone to read the message.

Joel: Sorry, sugar but I have plans tonight. Tomorrow?

You sigh, guess everyone was busy tonight.

You: No worries! See you tomorrow!

Sighing, you flipped onto your back, staring at your ceiling trying to think of what was going to keep you occupied tonight.

You decided to take the time for a self care night. Painted your nails, did a face mask, read a bit, before ultimately ending up in the bath.

The soak felt nice and after weeks of not focusing on yourself enough, it also felt nice to just relax. Plus, if you were glowing the next time you saw Joel, he probably wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you.

That's how you found yourself, wrapped up in your soft robe propped up at your vanity. Hair wrapped in a towel while you rubbed lotion into your legs.

Just as you were finishing up, the doorbell rang downstairs. Sighing, not really wanting an interruption, but needing to answer it nonetheless. You pushed up from your seat and made your way downstairs. Not even bothering to change out of your robe.

And you would have never expected what you were about to see on the other side of the door as you swung it open.

There stood Joel and another lady, trying to hold up your very drunk mother. Eye immediately lock onto Joel's, an apologetic look on his face as he wasn't sure what to say.

Your mother however saw you and tried to rush at you to hug you. Slurring about this and that. How much fun she had, how pretty you were, anything and everything that came to her inebriated mind.

Joel and the lady held her back, trying to keep her on her feet and off of you. After the initial shock of the moment, you finally realized they were probably trying to get you to let them inside.

"Oh! Um, come in. I'm sorry about her, uh maybe just put her on the couch?" You gesture towards the living room and move aside to let all three of them through. Joel glances back at you as you close the door, eyes also trained onto him.

They try to place your mother onto the couch as carefully as they can, but she falls to the side anyways. You are almost horrified at the situation. Joel, here. Your mom, drunk. Joel with your drunk mom.

Joel clears his throat while the lady is busying herself with your mom, "As you can see, she's a bit tipsy." He states the obvious, you bite your lip as he shuffles from foot to foot nervously.

"A bit." You conclude.

"Yeah, uh, it might have been my idea to play a drinking game. Sorry!" The lady on the couch calls over her shoulder, returning to your mom.

Your eyes never leave Joel's. As the shock subsides, you finally put some pieces together. Your mom was going to see some high school friends. Joel was one of your mom's high school friends. You were hooking up with your mom's friend. Fuck!

Joel tries to read your face, you can see how he wants to go over to you. Wants to apologize properly or explain himself. Anything to make you feel better.

"Sug-Uh, Y/N right?" He almost lets his pet name for you out. You nod, like he doesn't moan out your name nightly.

"'m Joel and that's Linda." You nod again. What then fuck is happening right now?

"Do you think we should take her upstairs?" The lady, Linda, finally turns to look at you. She scans you and you only just now realize what you are wearing. Or lack of what you are wearing. Eyes shift to Joel, who is seemingly now taking in your appearance as well. You notice his Adam's apple bob a bit as he tries to wet his now very dry mouth.

"I mean, she will probably be fine there. One night on the couch isn't so bad." You try to joke but Linda's face stays stern.

"I'll take her up, can you bring her some water?" She looks to you and you nod again, now gulping at how serious she is.

Linda grabs your mom off the couch and surprisingly easily takes your mom up the stairs.

"The door on the left." You call out, realizing you never told her. Linda grunts in acknowledgement before taking your mom into your room. The second the door closes, Joel speaks.

"Linda's a bit serious."

"A bit serious? I was gonna say scary." He laughs at your statement.

"She is, isn't she?" He laughs again, before stopping as his eyes latch onto yours.

"Baby..." He trails off, not sure what to say.

"So, you're friends with my mom?" He nods. You open your mouth once, twice, before closing it again. Also not sure what to say.

"Obviously, I didn't know until she gave me the address tonight. Then I didn't know what I was going to say to you. I couldn't act like I knew you and-" He stops his rambling as you step towards him, placing a hand on his chest.

"It's okay, I know you didn't know. I know you wouldn't keep something like that from me." His hand engulfs yours, pulling it up to his mouth to peck your palm.

"You're so good to me." Taking a step closer, his forehead rests on yours.

You giggle, "You're so good to me."

The two of you sit there in silence for a second before he speaks again.

"You look so pretty right now, angel. I wish I could kiss you."

"You could." You confirm, bringing your face closer to his.

And right as he is about to attach his lips to yours, something crashes up stairs. you jump back from Joel at the sound before the two of you rush upstairs. Just to find Linda and your mom on the floor, laughing. You sigh in relief before noticing the pile of book knocked off the bookshelf.

"What happened?" You ask.

"She fell while trying to put her pants on. Knocked over all these books and me." Linda replies in between laughs. Only a bit shocked by her switch in emotions, you sign again.

"It's okay, you guys have done enough. I'll put her to bed now and clean that up in the morning. Thank you for everything." Linda nods, stands, and dusts herself off. Before looking to Joel who just gestures for her to go first.

Joel glances back at you once last time. Almost taking a step towards you, before shaking his head and following behind Linda.

The front door closes down stairs and your attention returns to your mom who is still sitting on the floor. Her head is slumped over and her breathing is even, like she has fallen asleep just like that.

"Come on, mom, let's get you to bed." You reach under her arms to lift her up. She doesn't help but falls into another giggling fit. Trying so hard not to laugh to you push her down under her seats, tucking her in just like she used to when you were little.

"That was him." She says all of a sudden.

"That was who?" You reply, not fully listening as you pick up one of the books.

"The guy I was telling you about. The one that grew up well. He's hot right?" You stop mid movement of picking up another book. What?

But before you can even say anything else soft snores come from the bed. You stand up and place the book back onto their shelf. Leaving the room silently.

You lean against the door once you shut it, stomach tying into knots.

The guy your mom is interested in is the guy that you are currently seeing. What the fuck?

The next morning it was your mom's turn to come into the kitchen groaning. Holding her head she sits at one of the barstools at the island.

"Morning sunshine." You greet her with a laugh while sipping your coffee.

She just grunts in response, you laugh again. Turning to make her her own mug of coffee, knowing that's exactly what she wants right now.

You slide it over to her, her eyes widen for only a second before lifting the mug to her lips. As soon as the liquid touches her tongue she is smiling into the brim of it.

"Thank you." She says as she places it back onto the counter. You raise your own mug to her in a "you're welcome" gesture. She sighs.

"Did I embarrass myself last night?" Groaning again while rubbing her temples.

You laugh, "Only a little." Holding up a pinching gesture with the hand not holding your coffee.

You take a sip while your mom speaks again, "Oh! But you met Joel right? What do you think?" And that's when you choke. You were kind of hoping she didn't bring up Joel.

"That bad?" Your mom chuckles while you try to recover from your coughing fit.

"Uh...um he didn't seem too bad." You finally say as you recover just enough to let the words out.

Your mom only nods, taking your short answer as enough.

What were you going to do?

You had sent a text earlier in the day to confirm with Joel that the two of you were still on for tonight. Although, you were a bit confused by the whole situation currently. You knew how you felt about Joel and honestly you were tired of hiding it from not only yourself but also him.

Now you could only hope he felt the same. That hope, however, came fully to fruition when the you showed up to Joe's bar and Joel was standing there waiting for you, bouquet in hand. You almost teared up at the gesture.

When you crossed the bar to him, he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling your body into his. He placed a kiss on the top of your head before handing the flowers to you.

"Sorry again about last night." You hit his chest at his statement. He backs up in shock, mouth wide open. His dramatics make you laugh.

"Stop saying sorry, it isn't your fault. My mom should be apologizing to you!"

"Still I should've at least warned you we were coming." Dramatics dropped as he looks down at his feet.

"While you were driving? Joel Miller!" Now you are the one being overdramatic and it makes him laugh like it had made you laugh.

"Fine, but I still feel bad."

You sigh, "Fine, but you're not sitting in this corner all night! Dance with me!" You grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor.

When you start dancing he is only swaying his hips a bit, not fully into it. But you aren't having any of that, you grab his arms and slide his hands down your sides. Flipping around so your ass makes contact with his crotch. This seems to make him react as he grabs your hips in almost a warning.

Although, of course, this only eggs you on to continue your teasing. Grinding your hips back into his like that very first night the two of you hooked up. You spin back around, hands moving up his stomach and chest finally resting latched behind his neck. Your head is tossed back as you continue to move your hips dangerously close to his own. Neck is on full display for Joel and he takes this as an opportunity to crane down and place a soft kiss there.

His head now rests on your shoulder using his hands to help move your hips in time with his. You smile, he must be feeling a bit better now. So when he raises his head out of the crook of your neck you raise your own to meet eyes.

But you don't see lust there, you see something else. Love? It makes you gulp, goosebumps raising on your skin as he leans down to bring his lips to yours.

And when he pulls away, "I want you." He says, but it isn't in the lustful way he usually says it. Not sure how to reply, you smirk teasingly.

"Then take me."

"Not like that, baby. I-I want you. I-" Words seem to stop at the top of his throat, fearing that they will topple over.

Still unsure, you say the first thing that comes to mind, "You have me. I've been yours for a while, Joel." The look in his eyes sparks almost unnoticeably.

"You're mine?" You nod. "Promise?" Another nod.

"Come home with me?" Instead of answering, you attach your lips to him.

Waking up in Joel's arms felt so much different than all the times you had been in his bed and in his arms before. Something about the intimacy of your conversation from the night before and the intimacy of being in his bed now. You were just so serene. It felt right. There was no other way to describe it.

Obviously, after leaving Joe's you ended up at Joel's place once again. Although this time you had told your mom so she wouldn't worry and you had also, at Joel's request, told her that you weren't going to come home at all tonight.

Of course, like all the nights before Joel and you had ended up fucking, but last night felt different. It was slower, it was intimate, it was like he was making love to you. If you had asked Joel he would tell you that's exactly what he was doing.

Glancing over at Joel, you see that he is still asleep. You try to carefully let yourself out of grip to get out of bed but his strong arms keep you there.

As you try again, he just grips you tighter letting out a groan. He opens his eyes slowly.

"Don't leave me." He says while still waking up.

"I'm not leaving, Joel, I-" He cuts you off by pulling you roughly into his side.

"Joel-" you warn with a squeak as he pushes on your stomach with the heel of hi hand. "-I need to pee."

He still doesn't let you up. Just nuzzles his face into your hair. His breath tickles your neck.

"If you don't let me go, I'll end up peeing in your bed." You try to warn him again and finally he lets you go with a sigh.

But before you can make it fully into the bathroom he is calling out behind you.

"You're mine?" Your eyes roll.

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"Joel." Another warning tone.

"Promise." This time it wasn't a question.

"I promise. Now let me go pee!"

After peeing, you returned to Joel who was still sprawled out in bed. He brought you back into his arms as quickly as he could. The two of you stayed like that for a while, just bathing it each other's warmth.

Until Joel's hands started wandering. First it started with rubbing soothing circles onto your back. Then the circles moved to your thighs. The circles becoming less soothing and more whimper inducing. Then they moved to just above the waistband of your pants (boxers you had borrowed from Joel). Only for them to dip past that waistband just a second later. Now teasing your already dripping slit.

Whimpering out, Joel caught your sound with his lips. Letting his tongue taste yours. The kiss was slow, passionate. No matter how much he wanted you, he was taking it slow.

His fingers continued teasing your pussy lips, collecting your juices before slipping just the tip of fingers past your folds. Gasping, you bit down on his lip, causing him to groan into your mouth. The shock made him loose himself for a second but he recovered quickly and continued teasing you.

He did this for a minute or two never letting his lips leave yours. Bringing his fingers to your clit he rubbed the bud a few times before slipping his hand out of pants. You whined at the loss.

"I need to be inside of you. Can't wait any longer." He says before pushing you to turn around so he was now behind you.

You heard Joel rustling through his nightstand for a second before tearing open a package. Shifting away from your warmth for only a second to slide his underwear down and slip the condom on.

As quickly as he can he is returning to touching you, hand moving up under your shirt. Lips are on your neck nipping and sucking lightly at the sensitive skin.

The hand in your shirt moves up to tease your boob, massaging both of them. The other hand is moving back to the waistband of your pants, slipping them down your legs as much as he can in the position that you are in. You help him by lifting your hips a bit.

Joel slides his dick into you from behind, it being easy from till being a bit stretched out from last night. Not to mention all the teasing and the amount of wetness that is almost dripping down your thighs at this point.

You don't even need to adjust to the stretch, "Please Joel." You breath out. He continues fucking into behind and kissing at your neck.

Hand is still in your shirt, just holding onto your tit. The other is holding your hip in place, like he thinks you'll slip away from him. He is fully seated inside of you when he slowly pulls out of you to hi tip, before fucking back into all the way to the hilt.

He continues his slow and steady pace, just taking his time with your body. Needing to feel all of you. Needing you.

Thrusting his dick in and out of you. Working both of you towards your release. Morning sex with Joel was definitely different than any of the sex you've ever had with him before but you were loving it. You loved how he was taking his time. He didn't want either of you to get overstimulated.

The hand that was on your hip wrapped around to tease your clit. The strokes were as slow as his thrusts. But he strokes once particularly roughly and you are moaning, turning your head to try and meet lips with Joel. He obliges and connects your lips.

This is what sends you hurtling towards your end. The softness of the kiss, the circles on your clit, and the slow yet perfect thrusts. It crashes over you unexpectedly and has you moaning out loudly disconnecting your lips just so you can catch your breath.

And the feeling of your walls clenching onto his member has him closer to his peak quickly as well. He's usually very sensitive in the morning so he isn't very surprised. So when you seemed to have caught your breath and you no longer are jerking with your orgasm, Joel is placing his lips back on yours. Kissing you deeply as he swallows your breathy moans from the overstimulation.

This causes him to reach his peak, cumming into the condom with a throaty moan. Thrusting roughly into you a few times to work himself through his orgasm. When he is finished he is pulling out of you and using your shoulder to turn you back to face him.

He pulls your head into his chest. Breathing is still a bit labored as the two of you just feel the other person. Appreciating the comfort. Breathing in each other's scents, content.

Later that day after a shower, with Joel, he drove you back to your house to drop you off. You didn't have any clothes with you after all, so you at least had to change and because you didn't exactly want to leave Joel yet, when you didn't see your mom's car in the driveway you convinced Joel to come up with you.

He didn't protest much after you promised him your mom would not be returning any time soon. So he followed you through the house and into your room. You ushered him in and watched as he took it all in. Shutting the door behind you two, you made your way across the room to Joel.

Wrapping your arms around him from behind as he looked at some pictures on your desk. You hadn't realized until now but Joel had never seen the way you lived and it was comforting to finally have him in your space.

"That's when I was seven." You said as he picked up a picture of you with a soccer ball in hand, blue jersey hanging on your little torso. "I begged my dad to sign me up for soccer and only did it for about three weeks before I decided I hated it." You laugh at the memory.

He laughs too and places it down, now picking up a picture of you and your friend from prom.

"That feels like ages ago." You muse, "There used to be another girl in this picture but she uh she fucked my boyfriend so I cut her out." You nod into his back before disconnecting your arms and moving across the room to sit on your bed. Playing with your hands, he places the photo down and moves to sit with you.

"I'd never do that to you." He says after a beat of silence.

"Fuck my boyfriend? I hope not." You try to joke but it doesn't fully reach your voice.

Joel grabs your hands, "Cheat on you." He says the thing you weren't sure you wanted to hear. You open your mouth but aren't sure what to say.

So he speaks instead, "You deserve the world and I want you to know that I'm prepared to give it to you." You smile, finally bringing your eyes to his.

"You sound so old!" You jest as you hit his chest. He grabs your wrist using it pull you forward into him. You fall into his chest, Joel uses that as an opportunity to stable you by a hand on your hip.

"If I really was that old, I don't think I could fuck you the way I do." He tone is laced with seduction as he brings his lips to ghost yours. Breath fans over your face, causing you to shiver. He smirks almost bringing up the inside joke of you being cold all the time. But throws this away to instead attach his lips to yours.

The kiss is fiery, not like the ones from this morning that were filled with passion, this one was like he needed to prove something. Prove he would always be yours and you would always be his.

His lips and his hands have you so much in a trance that neither of you hear a car pulling into the driveway. Or the front door opening. Or your mom calling out your name. Or climbing up the stairs. Or opening your door.

But you do hear the gasp and the sound of bags dropping to the floor as your mom sees the two of you. Pulling away quickly both you and Joel jump away from each other like a fire was just lit between you. Your head snaps to look at your mom and then back to Joel and notice she is doing the same thing with the both of you.

"Mom, I-" You try to explain but loose your words and good thing too because they would be falling on deaf ears anyways. With her blinking twice and rushing out of the room, back down the stairs, out of the house, and driving away.

You look back to Joel who has a mortified look on his face, then back to the doorway your mom was just in.

"Shit."

Part 2 !!!!!!!

1K notes · View notes

lokisgoodgirl · 4 months

Text

Secretive Santa: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (8) Seasons may have changed, but some hearts still need soothed. And what better time than Christmas for some well-intentioned mischief? Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Usual Lakes fare. Established relationship. Theve (?) Soft smut , mild angst, humour, fluff and cunning plans throughout. (w/c 7.3k)

You would never forget the look on Thor’s face as the Fiat had drawn up the loose stone drive to the cottage. The glow of his smile was visible through the windshield at 100 paces.

As he and Rogers had exited the car with a spring in their step, you were starting to think the last two days had been just what everyone had needed.

The air was crisp this morning, winter’s first biting chill stinging your cheeks.

Steve’s face was glossy and fresh with the flushed sheen of recent spa treatments. His forehead shone. He strode towards you with a nod, extending his hand to shake Loki’s with a quiet ‘howdy’ as Thor brought up the rear.

‘Do you really think they slept together?’ you’d gaped to Loki as you’d lain in bed after dinner last night, thoroughly sated with food and sex. Loki had laughed gently, making your chin bounce on his bare chest. ‘There were twelve condoms in the pack I bought to get a rise from Rogers,’ he’d replied. An eyebrow had risen as you stared vacantly. ‘How many times have we had sex, darling?’ Loki had continued.

A smirk had played at the corner of his perfect mouth, still glistening with your arousal. It was burned into your memory. The soft mischief in every line.

You had bit your lip, the look of intense concentration on your face making Loki chuckle again. ‘Full, or just oral?’ you’d replied wilfully. ‘Ten,’ Loki had mouthed, raking a hand through his hair as he arched his back. One of his legs draped over the side of the single bed. ‘There were ten in the box when they left. So either-’ ‘It’s happened, or it’s going to!’ you’d gasped. Loki had shrugged. Maybe, his silence had said - but he was still smiling. Now, you tilted your chin as Thor stood beside Steve.

The captain hooked an arm around the blonde god’s shoulder, the pep of the men’s familiar pleasantries filling the air like birdsong. Thor’s followed suit, giving each other an affectionate pat before breaking apart. “You guys ready to blow off?” Steve asked, gesturing to the Fiat.

Loki’s nose wrinkled. “I humbly petition to sit in the front passenger seat this time.” he muttered, making his suitcase disappear in a flash of green. “We can take turns,” Thor offered. A relevation.

Startled, Loki’s eyebrows rose. You looked between them, smiling as the men nodded agreement in sage trifecta.

Although you’d been lumbered driving for the next seven hours back to the Essex compound, it would be another world than the trip up had been. And besides, none of these particular Earth's Mightiest Heroes could drive stick.

“Let’s go home,” you murmured, meeting Loki’s eyes as his hand slid into yours with a squeeze. “Home,” he smiled.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. The seasons changed again. But thankfully, Loki had not.

Frost adorned trees lining Central Park were visible from the god’s bedroom window. Like cake toppers, you mused as you pulled the curtains behind a sash, dusted with icing sugar. A pair of strong hands slid around your waist, slippers nipping at your heels as he moulded his stomach against your back.

Long fingers tugged against the loose sash of your robe.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured against the muss of your morning hair. His breath was warm in the shell of your ear, the heat of his skin sinking from his bare chest through your gown.

You could feel the bulge in his loose pyjama pants pulse against your ass. “They need me,” you whined, tilting your chin to meet his pleading eyes. He knew you couldn’t resist those eyes. Christmas lights on the tree in the corner lit up the golden veins of his irises. “I need you,” he retorted. The wounded tone of his voice tugged your heartstrings.

You rolled your eyes.

Loki tutted. “Agent?” he warned playfully. Playful, but no less devastating. It made your core flush with ill-timed desire. “We don’t do that anymore.” It had become a mantra. An amber light which snuffed out behaviours that no longer had a place in your relationship. And expectation of equality, you conceded, worked both ways. “Come back to bed,” he husked again, deeper this time.

Loki’s forefinger looped around the sash of your robe, stepping back slowly. Two steps, then three. You followed, falling to his lap as he sat back on the mattress. “It’s cold outside. Rogers will understand.” You scoffed, curling the mess of his hair behind one perfectly formed ear. Whatever happened, it needed to sound believable. Just a normal mission. A normal mission. “It’s not Steve I’m worried about,” you said.

Loki frowned, urging you to continue as his fingers danced dangerously up your leg. They began to massage the curve of your ass beneath the silk. “It’s your brother – he’s been antsy all week. All month, actually. Chewed Scott out the other day for being late – even Steve was embarrassed.” Loki’s hand paused. “Will he be there? On this ‘very important mission’?” he muttered, staring at your breasts with a faraway look in his eyes. “My brother, I mean…” You swallowed, the oath of utter secrecy bubbling behind your teeth, willing itself to be broken.

You managed a half-hearted shrug. Loki’s pinched fingers slid down the opening of your robe, before raising his gaze with a wolfish glint.

“Perhaps Rogers is rubbing off on him,” he quipped, lips stretching in a smirk. You slapped his shoulder lightly, trying to stand before Loki pulled you back in. His lips traced your own, inhaling against your breath. “Or on him,” he finished smugly.

You slapped his shoulder again.

“It’s been ages since the lakes, and neither of them have said a word,” you huffed, standing and shrugging your robe to the floor.

Taking a moment to enjoy the awed slant of Loki’s brows, you turned and made your way to the small selection of clothes you kept in his rooms. “If they were a thing, we’d know by now. They barely speak to each other these days.” You unhooked a combat suit, feeling the weight of Loki’s stare on your naked ass. “Has Thor said anything to you?” you asked innocently, glancing back over your shoulder. The god’s eyes snapped from your rear to your face.

“What?” he coughed. He was hard. “Has Thor said anything to you?” you repeated, trying to hold in a satisfied smile. “About him and Steve?” Loki crossed his legs, trying to dampen the arousal pumping through his veins. “No,” he sniffed. “But he is acting particularly meat-headishness of late. I should speak to him.” “You should-” you said, pulling the suit over your shoulders and sliding the zip upwards. Loki’s crestfallen eyes lingered as your cleavage disappeared from view. “I should-” he muttered absent-mindedly as you drew closer and leant down to give him a kiss. His train of thought dissipated in the air.

You paused, feeling his breath cloud around your mouth. As much as you wanted to stay, this was important. The secrecy that surrounded Steve’s message had made that clear.

Loki kissed you. First soft, then firm. A promise.

And the warmth of it lingered as you made your reluctant way down the Tower elevators and into the crisp New York December day.

You checked the top right corner of the screen nestled in your thick gloves. Nine seventeen. Shit. The dot on the GPS moved up East 50th street. Skies had darkened, clouds threatening snow. Wreaths and lightbulb-adorned foliage hung against shop windows, festive displays catching your eye.

That jacket would look incredible on Loki, you thought fleetingly; before the shade of a skyscraper loomed above. Making a mental note to come back and get it, you paused; taking a moment at the railing. It overlooked the golden statue in Rockefeller Plaza. Even at this time in the morning, skaters made their way around the rink with various displays of aptitude. A man who reminded you very much of Colin Robertson hung stiffly onto the side as his other half skated backwards, encouraging him enthusiastically. You smiled. “Thanks for coming,” a voice murmured over your shoulder.

You clutched your chest. “Steve!” you gasped.

Ever since the lakes, the relationship with your superior had become a lot more familiar. An unexpected bonus. The captain wore a thick hat low on his brow. And sunglasses, of course. A navy blue jacket was zipped up under his chin. He looked stiff, hands jammed in his pockets. He glanced anxiously over his shoulder while you leant against the railing. “You going to tell me what this is about, now?” you said quietly.

Steve nodded curtly, clearing his throat. It fogged the air. “Seems I drew Odinson in the secretive santa and I need your advice.” You arched a brow, ‘secretive santa’ making your lip twitch with laughter which would be entirely inappropriate.

“Go on,” you mustered warily. Steve cleared his throat again, removing his sunglasses. He produced a small microfibre flannel from his pocket, beginning to polish them. “You know him better than I do, see” he mumbled, meeting your sceptical gaze. You titled your head. Steve’s cheeks were pink. And not from cold. Not just from cold, anyway.

“I don’t know about that,” you replied softly. The captain’s eyes narrowed, searching for any hint of ulterior meaning.

“You spent a lot of time together before the cabin,” you explained, seeing his face soften. “- which I appreciate, by the way. We both do.” You squeezed his hand. “I think together we can find the perfect gift – don’t you?” Steve exhaled loudly. It was relief. “Well, I did have one idea I wanted to run by you…” he smiled shyly.

Your eyebrows rose.

In response, Steve nudged his head towards a store on the other side of the plaza. A smile stretched across your face.

“Perfect!” you cried, making Steve cringe. “Keep your voice down,” he hushed, wincing as a passer by jostled his shoulder. “I don’t want that Heimdall character ruining the surprise.” You laughed playfully. “If you’re on his radar then-” you started, before thinking better of it. Thankfully, Steve was too busy putting his sunglasses on and tugging the woolly hat down to notice.

FAO Schwarz was heaving with shoppers. Crowds bustled around elaborate displays of every toy imaginable. Normal-looking businessmen and women clutched large paper bags with boxes slotted in expert precision making their way quickly past you to the entrance. Trying to fit in what they could before work, you reckoned. The superheroes of the everyday. New York’s iconic toy-store was a Christmas wonderland, wreaths adorning pillars and large glittering snowflakes hanging from tall ceilings. Paul McCartney’s chirpy vocals rang from concealed speakers, heralding the season. Steve paused beside one of the perfectly coiffured trees lining the walkway through the store, glancing shiftily over his shoulder. “Maybe you should lose the sunglasses?” you suggested. He nodded reluctantly, slipping them into his pocket. “It’s over here,” he murmured.

He was frowning lightly, concern in those famously blue eyes. His Captain face. If you weren’t acutely aware of the context, you might be forgiven for thinking that this was a super-serious mission.

But, you reminded yourself, for him...maybe it is. You decided not to make light of it.

The two of you slipped around several hordes of shoppers towards a wall at the back of the store. Rows of plush animal faces stared vacantly in immaculate lines. Steve stopped. He folded his arms, spreading his feet in a stoic stance.

“There,” he said firmly, nodding towards a modest circular display. “Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes widening.

Out the corner of your vision, you saw Steve’s chin snap towards you; the feeling of his anxious stare beating into your profile. A grin spread on your lips. “It’s perfect,” you squealed, turning to him. You gripped his shoulders, shaking him lightly. “You’re a genius. He’ll love it.” Steve blushed, looking down. He scuffed his foot on the polished floor. It squeaked. “Golly,” he muttered, smiling bashfully. “You really think?”

You nodded, meaning it with your whole heart. “Perfect.”

Loki pursed his lips. He could hear the neolithic grunting of his brother doing some manner of inane task in the kitchen up ahead. It echoed.

Apparently, Thor had not been called to whatever mission had stolen you from his bed after all.

He rounded the corner, immediately tensing. The God of Thunder stood hunched over a toaster, miniscule in one meaty hand. In the other, he had a knife jammed deep in the contraption, wiggling it around. “You should turn that off at the wall, you know-” Loki drawled. Thor looked up, smiling.

“My breakfast is entrapped, brother. There is no other way.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I thought you weren’t doing that anymore,” Thor muttered, demeanour hardening. "The rolly-eye-thing."

Loki bristled. “For some things there is no alternate or adequate lexicology to express oneself, brother.” Thor humphed, rattling the knife deeper.

A blackened pop-tart fell to the counter amid a cascade of crumbs. With silent vindication, he raised it in his grasp and shook it in Loki’s direction. A triumphant grin spread across his face as Loki slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “So?” Loki said smoothly, tilting his head. It was a loaded syllable. Thor’s brow scrunched. Loki wasn’t sure if it was the bitterness of his ill-gotten prize or the vagueness of his opening gambit which caused it. “What?” Thor crunched. Flecks of burnt fell with abandon to his scruffy beard and a white muscle vest stretched tight on his chest. It was stained with what looked like mustard, and chocolate - one hoped.

This is not that garment's first dawn, Loki thought. He sighed pointedly. “Look, we’ve been dancing around this for weeks. Your increase in short-temperedness and decrease in both affinity and hygiene has been noted.” The blonde pressed his fingers sarcastically to his chest, eyes wide. “You talk of me?” he exclaimed incredulously before chuckling, shaking his head.

Without warning, Thor released a thundering fart. It tapered to a whining toot before he spoke again. “You must be mistaken brother.” Loki didn't flinch. Not even a millimetre.

“I am not,” was Loki’s curt response. He clasped his hands on the counter-top, now marred with specks of charred pop-tart. They looked like ants. His disapproving eyes rose to meet his brother, now looking shifty. He was chewing, avoiding Loki’s analytical stare.

Thor flicked his hair back. It had a crispness to it. Some kind of resolve settled over his features, and there was a sharp glint in his eye Loki didn’t like.

“Have you told her you love her yet?” his elder brother quipped bitterly. Sarcasm seeped from him like steam. Or maybe that was the lingering stench of flatulence. “Again?” Loki tensed, resisting the bait. “That is none of your concern.”

He straightened, making space as Thor leant on the counter opposite, fist propped beneath his chin. The blonde batted his eyelashes innocently. Loki wanted to punch him. “Oh but it is, brother-” Thor smarmed, lip curling in a smirk that Loki would recognise in a mirror. “I am most concerned about it indeed.”

The two of them sat in silence, unspoken asgardian curses curling the air. “A truth for a truth?” Loki postured coldly, circling his fingertip on the counter. The question hung in the air. An old compromise last involked in their youth, in the days of the cabin-with-no-place.

It had become such a staple of breaking their stubborn stalemates that Frigga had commissioned the Asgardian Crones to weave a token.

‘To solidify the sentiment, for harmony’ she had said.

Millions of silken threads created the finest handkerchief in Asgard, an ombre of green and red which softened in silken waves to the centre; melding to one. Harmony.

On it, hand-stitched in the truest gold were the words. The only words which could provoke amnesty between the heirs. The symbol exchanged between them at times of familial discord. Whoever held it, must forfeit one admission for another or face the consequences.

En sannhet byttet mot en sannhet, A truth exchanged for a truth, Loki mulled as he traced a dark vein of the marbled counter-top.

It was not an accord invoked lightly. The ceremonial handkerchief itself may be lost to places known only to few, but once uttered, the oath must be fulfilled. He followed the winding tendril to the edge before meeting his brother’s eyes. Thor snorted, slapping the hand beneath his chin to the surface. “Fine” he gruffed.

“You and Rogers-” Loki cut in, seizing the moment. He watched his brother’s brow crease, short-lived victory turning to regret. “Is he the cause of the foul mood which has plagued you these past weeks?” Thor shuffled his feet, pushing himself upright against the counter. “I see not business that is of-” he began to parrot, but Loki waved a dismissive hand. “Brother, please-” he snapped sharply. “Even adorned with our lifespans, this banal rhetoric could last us to the gates of Valhalla.” He watched as his brother’s features relented, a quiet sigh rising in his chest. Thor swallowed. “He will not speak of it,” he muttered.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Of what?” Thor’s jaw set, looking at his brother with exasperation. “Our amorous union, short-lived as it was.” A small smile played at Loki’s lips.

Vindication, he thought. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

He summoned the willpower that had become so familiar from his newly-trained approach to your relationship, reminding himself that vulnerability was to be encouraged, not exploited. Carefully, he re-adjusted himself on the stool. He made sure he looked sympathetic. “I wasn’t sure if-” “Yes, yes…” Thor mumbled dismissively, glancing around the walls. Pink had risen in his cheeks.

“Rogers asked me not to say anything. But methinks it’s all for nought now regardless.”

“So the two of you...at the cottage?” Loki probed.

Thor nodded. “It started as a ruse, a part of the plan should it be required to stay you in the correct location but-” he swallowed.

“When the moment arose, the moment took me...us, and- our kinship, such as it was, had changed somehow. The nights we spent setting things in motion for the two of you, we grew closer. I cannot place it, brother. I just…”

“That sounds familiar,” Loki said softly. Without realising it, he had reached for his brother’s hand.

Thor squeezed it, staring down as he continued. “The love of a male is not unfamiliar to either of us-” Thor said, glancing up briefly. “But to Rogers…” he trailed off. “-It is all unfamiliar.” Loki finished. His brother nodded. “At the spa...we talked about what the future could look like. Many plans were made, but-” Thor swallowed thickly. “-when we returned, things were different?” Loki murmured tentatively.

Thor nodded again.

Loki knew that fear all too well. He would be lying if he said that his heart hadn’t pounded the whole flight home, wondering if a return to reality outside of the bubble created in the cottage would return you to your senses too. The thought of losing you again had been almost too much to bear. “I know not if it is his values. His image. Whether his feelings have changed or whether the intrigue was more of an allure than reality- he has barely spoken two words of warmth since our return. And when he does speak – I find myself behaving most unbefitting my feelings. Pushing him further, like you did.” Tears welled in the blonde’s eyes.

“Or perhaps it is I, brother,” Thor continued, smiling in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. It twisted Loki’s heart. His elder brother released a mirthless chuckle of resignation before continuing, fingertip circling on the marble anxiously. “Perhaps it is I.”

In seconds, Loki stood and rounded the counter.

He drew his brother close, feeling the strength of Thor’s grip tentatively curl around his shoulders. The god’s chest heaved, shallow breaths ricocheting against Loki’s neck. He found himself pressing his brother’s head into his hold, trying to steady the silent sobs swallowed with every gulp of air.

Had they ever embraced like this? Loki didn’t think so. Not that he could recall. But, strangely, he found he didn’t care.

“It’s alright, brother” he heard himself murmur, not knowing what else to say.

Thor choked back a shuddering sigh as Loki continued to stroke his hair. He rested his chin on his brother’s head, closing his eyes. “It’s alright.”

A paper bag adorned with toy soldiers rustled by your feet below the table.

Steve had given strict instructions to keep it in your sight while he bought coffee. You peeked inside again, smiling.

Somehow, you’d managed to convince him to while away a little more time before heading back to the Tower, citing Loki’s suspicions. But really, you just wanted to spend time with him.

Ever since the lakes, Steve had softened – which wasn’t a bad thing. In some ways you felt much closer, but in others; from others – he seemed to be pulling away. “Careful, it’s hot” he quipped, nudging the wooden chair out with his foot.

He squeezed to sit at the world’s smallest table that you had commandeered in the corner of the café. You mouthed thanks, pulling the mug over. “Reminds me of the cottage,” you smiled; looking up innocently. Steve’s eyebrows peaked, before he frowned lightly. “I guess,” he muttered. Festive jazz played over the bustle of mid-morning conversation and clinking plates. The milk steamer spluttered endlessly behind the bar. You scooped a blob of cappuccino foam onto your finger, sucking it off. It was now or never. After all, it was Christmas.

“Are you alright, Cap?” you started deferentially, hoping that the softness you felt in your heart shone through. Steve looked up, blue eyes deep in thought.

“Can I trust you, Agent?” he asked warily as his gaze glanced over your shoulder. Your features softened further, tension easing. You reached across the space between you, fingers curling over his forearm. “Steve,” you whispered. “I owe you so much. So much. I care about you, and Loki does too.” Steve’s brow arched sceptically. “He does,” you smiled, squeezing his arm. The smile fell gradually as you studied his face. “You can trust me,” you said quietly. Seriously. The captain nodded, taking a deep breath. “I…” he started.

Your brow twitched, an uneasy feeling spreading under your skin as Steve readjusted his feet beneath the table. His fingernails scratched at the wood, tapping as he glanced out the window and back again. “I…” he pursed his lips, avoiding your eyes. “-fucked up,” he hissed. Your stare widened. “Steve!” you gasped. He looked at you sheepishly. “Apologies,” he muttered. Clearly, your look of abject confusion was enough to spur him on. He leant forwards, urging you to do the same. A woman stood at the next table. Both of you watched her leave. Steve turned back to you, his eyes trained on the coffee cup nestled between his palms. “Our...mutual friend. The blonde,” he said quietly. You squeezed his arm again to signal understanding. “Well...as it turns out, I enjoy his company a bunch.” Steve’s eyelashes fluttered upwards, bashful gaze swimming above pink cheeks. He bit his lip. “A bunch. You see?” “I see,” you replied gently. Steve released a wistful sigh.

He licked his lips, fingers playing with the mug handle. “Things happened at the lakes that I didn’t expect. That I never woulda...that I-” he sighed, hanging his head.

“I told him it was a mistake.” He blew out a puff of air. “What a ninny,” he chided himself under his breath. You tilted your head. It was breaking your heart. “Do you think it was a mistake?” Steve shook his head, sighing again. “No,” said quietly. “But now he won’t talk to me. Not like before– as though he’s realised it was a mistake. He’s done with ol’ chum over here. I can’t blame him. I guess it’s not a big deal for a god and whatnot but for me-” Steve swallowed, words drying up. “Trust me, I know how it feels” you whispered.

Steve’s eyes met yours. They were glassy with tears, darting from your own to the pictures hanging on the wall and back again.

“I fucked up,” he breathed again. His voice trembled on the swear.

“It’s alright,” you cooed sadly as your thumb stroked Steve’s palm. You squeezed again. "It's gonna be alright."

Loki paced back and forth across the rug in his living room.

He’d tried buzzing your apartment four times at thirty minute intervals. Each time, he had been left more enthused than the previous.

His mind was alight with the thrill of the plot.

Through an entirely subtle process of elimination over the past hours, he had deduced that there was only one member of the team you could be with on this auspicious morning. Rogers. And after his conversation with his brother – he needed the intel you had most certainly gathered – whether intentionally or no.

There was more to this ‘mission’ of yours than met the eye, of this he was certain. He was certain, because he had planted the seeds himself.

There was a knock at the door. Loki’s feet skidded back against the rug in his haste to the handle, throwing it wide and bustling you inside.

“-Loki-” you gasped while he glanced to either side of the hallway before spinning you against the wall with a ravishing kiss.

His senses came alive beneath your touch. The bright cool of your skin, the scent of coffee and spiced gingerbread clinging to your hair; an almost imperceptible tacky patch on your cheekbone where some soul had left a passing kiss. Lipbalm. Rogers.

“What have you been up to my secretive elf?” he purred against your parted lips. Your coat hung open, the avengers uniform you had donned this morning for his benefit, he was sure; on half-display.

“I...uh-” Loki smirked as your palms steadied against the wall. You were panting, face flushed from the onslaught of his affections. Fingers raked through your hair as you met his eyes, blinking several times.

“You tied your hair back,” you noted, dazed.

Loki scoffed at the attempt at subterfuge, grabbing your hand.

“Come,” he said as he pulled you towards the sofa. You landed with a soft bounce as the god took centre stage in the living room. He pressed his fingertips together, hands peaked in a triangle. It touched his lips briefly. “Brace thyself, darling” he drawled. Unbuttoning your coat, Loki felt his gaze fall down the black material tight to your arms. It clung to your chest, the zip far too low for any official business. His stare lingered on the curve of your waist, how it taunted and teased him as you shuffled back on the sprawling sofa.

“Consider me braced,” you said pointedly. He cleared his throat. “My brother,” he started, pausing for effect. You stared at him expectantly.

Loki admitted to himself that he was a little disappointed you did not seem more intrigued by the fatted bounty of gossip he was about to spill forth. But he decided to maintain the theatre it deserved regardless. “-is in love with…” he paused again, smirking mischievously- “Rogers.” Your head fell back, landing in the cushions as your hands covered your face. “Oh thank fuck for that!” you gasped, beginning to laugh despite yourself. Loki frowned. This was not the response he had expected.

Between sighs of relief, you peered through your fingers at the bemused god. He was standing with his hands on his hips, the irritation palpable. The foot began to tap.

“Come here,” you placated. Patting the cushion beside you, his face softened; but an eyebrow remained raised.

“I would have thought my most excellent investigations would yield a smidgeon more praise from you my dear,” he said with feigned annoyance as he sat. “Nonetheless, I imagine your response means welcome news?” You nodded. “Steve feels the same. At least – I think he does.” Loki’s face scrunched. “You think? Please. Rogers should be on his hands and knees thanking the norns for my brother’s affections.” It was your turn to frown. “But Steve doesn’t know how Thor feels – your brother’s been palming him off.” Loki smirked.

“Not like that,” you sighed as you fell back again against the cushions. “We have to do something Loki...they’re mad about each other. They both think the other isn’t interested for one reason or another. They just need-” “-a little nudge?” Loki purred.

You met his stare. Those beautiful eyes swirled with the warm glow of the treelights, sparking mischief in golden flecks buried in deepest blue. Shadows cast by candlelight danced in the carve of his cheekbones.

“A little nudge,” you repeated, tilting your head with a knowing smile.

“After all, it would be rude not to return the favour. Don’t you agree?” the god murmured as his fingers danced up your suit.

They fastened around the zip at your chest, pulling slowly down. In seconds, Loki had gracefully shifted and buried his face in your cleavage. Hot kisses worked against the skin, breath warming any hint of chill still lingering in your bones.

Your hands slid past his temples as he made it to your neck, fingers winding in the lengths of his ponytail before pulling it free.

“Minx,” he slurred against the curve.

You could feel the sharp of his teeth against your collarbone as he smiled. Hands sliding over his broad shoulders, you took a moment to appreciate the tight knit of the camel sweater he wore at the meat of his biceps. Camel, he’d insisted. Not beige. And in the heady afterglow of lovemaking amidst a sea of sparkling Christmas lights, a cunning plan began to form.

You made your way to the common room, gift-bag swinging.

The presents that you and Loki had procured for your team-mates sat nestled inside – one for Scott, one for Wanda.

The tradition was a fairly new one, but a highlight of the festive calendar. On Christmas Eve, before outsider guests for Tony’s annual party began to arrive- the Avengers gathered and exchanged all manner of tat and risque shit. You often wondered how much the picture on your phone of Bruce holding up the dinner-plate sized cock ring Tony had made for him would fetch on the open market. But you had decided long ago that it was priceless. “Brother!” you imitated in a deep, accented growl.

Thor spun on the common room sofa, his wary look melting to a wide smile. You ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He spun, making you squeal. A whining mash of faint tunefulness emitted from his chest as the god lowered you to the ground. Jingle Bells. “Ah, you pressed the penguin’s nose” he hummed, booping the knitted beakish blob. “He sings,” he explained, pleased with himself. “I can see that,” you said as you made your way to the tree. “But turn around – you can’t see which presents are ours...” Thor obliged, smiling as he busied himself fluffing a garland by the fireplace. "Perhaps we should invite my Penguin friend to the carol concert at Stark's festive jamboree tomorrow," he boomed across the room. You watched him, remembering the feeling of acting normally while tendrils of heartache wrapped around your insides.

"-Certainly, he can hold a tune better than I" Thor continued, chuckling to himself. A pang of sadness mellowed as you turned back to the pile beneath the tree. Scanning, you tried to look for one that could be Steve’s – but none fit the bill. “Okay I’m done,” you said casually as you stood. Thor continued fluffing the garland. You sidled over, trying to act casual. “Have you um...added yours yet?” Thor shook his head regretfully. “Having a little trouble with my assigned giftee” he muttered. His eyes flickered to yours guiltily. “There is something I wish to give them, but I am unsure it would be welcome.” A small smile played on your lips. “Something tells me any gift of yours would be welcome,” you said, watching his bottom lip roll beneath the top with a sceptical grunt. “Is it something I can help with?” you probed, “maybe a second opinion would ease your mind.” “No,” Thor mumbled. He sighed. “I fear this is something I must endeavour alone, sister.” You frowned. How the fuck did Thor manage one of these cunning plans, you wondered as Michael Buble crooned in the background. “I wished to speak to you as it happens,” he murmured. Your lips pursed. The tone of his voice, the tension in his shoulders. Flashing lights interwoven in the fireplace garland illuminated a newly crimson hue to his skin. “Did my brother...mention anything to you of late?” You snorted. “You’ll have to be more specific when it comes to Loki. He never shuts up,” you smiled, feigning ignorance. Thor chuckled. “Indeed,” he said as he picked at a ribbon. “Well then...more specifically about, me.” You shook your head. You hated lying to him, but in this case – it was for the greater good. The god nodded softly, still inspecting the ribbon between his fingers. “Good. Well. That wasn’t what I wished to speak to you about anyway.” You swallowed. Cryptic Thor was never a welcome guest at any gathering. “My brother,” he continued cautiously, eyeing you before moving his fingers to another strand of greenery hanging over the side of the mahogany mantel. “-He intends to declare his love for you this Yuletide.”

Your jaw dropped, neck craning forwards. “Oh,” was all you could manage.

The side of Thor’s mouth twitched in an apologetic smile. “I am aware that your relationship has been, what is the parlance...taken ‘back to basics’ in some respects-” “Yeah,” you mumbled. Suddenly the ribbons decorating the garland looked very interesting. You and he stood in silence, straightening Pepper’s ornamentation.

Thor cleared his throat. “Knowing you the way I do sister,” he said softly, “I thought that forearmed would be forewarned.” “It’s the other way around,” you snipped. "Forewarned is forearmed." Out the corner of your eye, you saw Thor’s face fall. “Sorry,” you added quietly. The god’s hand curled around your shoulder, pulling you to him in a brief sidehug before releasing it.

“It’s just...we agreed not to rush things,” you explained under your breath.

You knew that he knew this, but verbalisation was needed. The cogs of your mind whirled.

“We haven’t moved back in together, we just keep a few things at each others places...go on a lot of dates, we’re working on ourselves, you know? Avoiding the mistakes we made last time. Like...well, like rushing things.” Thor turned towards you, bicep leaning against the mantle-piece as he listened diligently. You could feel the track of his gaze over your face.

Unable to take it anymore, you turned to look at him. “He’s doing so well, Thor. We’re doing so well. I’m happy. Really happy,” The words sounded panicked. You hated that. Thor reached out, cupping your hand in his. “I just...I don’t want it to ruin anything,” you finished. Looking up, the god’s concerned stare was waiting like you knew it would be.

“Do you love him?” was all Thor said.

Heat rose in your cheeks.

The truth was that you did. That you always had, and probably always would. But in hindsight, those three little words had heralded the beginning of the end last time. When his rose-tinted effort to contain the smarm and arrogance had well and truly gone absent without leave.

In some ways, the old Loki had taken your love to mean your unending loyalty. Unconditionally, in the truest sense of the word. Your unquestioning support and adulation no matter his behaviour, however many times you tried to stand your ground. And while his actions these past months had gone a long way to assuage those lingering doubts – the fear that it could flare up his old habits made your blood run cold.

Seconds ticked on while Thor’s question hung in the air.

“I thought it best you have time to consider it before the moment was upon you,” he said quietly. “My apologies if I have overstepped.”

You shook your head, linking your fingers through his. Without realising, tears had begun to prick your eyes. He raised a palm to your cheek, wiping away a droplet which had spilled over the rim. “No tears, sis” he rumbled lovingly. “It’s Christmas.” You felt a weak smile grow as Thor extended his forefinger. It lingered in the air between you. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

He moved the finger slowly to the penguin’s beak.

It pressed against the jumper. Against the lumpy misshapen knob of black knit, Thor's eyes never leaving yours.

And as the squeaking whine of electronic Jingle Bells filled the air, it dissolved the scent of sadness into a waft of cinnamon candlesmoke. You and the god of Thunder began to laugh.

Loki leant against the counter of your kitchenette.

He watched as you waited for the kettle to finish boiling, staring at it intently. Something was off. Your fingertip ran around the rim of a glass teapot sitting on the side. Loki could smell the spiced chai leaves from here. “Are you alright, darling?” he ventured cautiously. You offered a weak smile as the kettle clicked off the boil. Steam billowed around your jawline as you poured.

Loki was careful not to let his face betray the nerves bubbling in his stomach. If he was honest with himself, he’d been waiting for something to crop up that would throw the fine-sailing vessel of your relationship off-course.

It’s only a matter of time until she changes her mind, he’d think with twisting sadness as he watched you sleep. With me, it’s always just a matter of time.

He absorbed the purse of your lips, the absent-minded wipe of a droplet of tea from the counter-top before you blew the steam gently. Its motion sent a wave of rich tea and spices in his direction.

Your slipper socks rustled against the tiles as you made your way over to him, still resting against the counter’s lip. You set the mug down to his side, hands sliding over his hips. They clasped behind his back at the base of his spine.

“I have to talk to you about something, and it’s not easy-” you murmured softly.

Your eyes were wide and vulnerable, a slight tremble of your lip making his heart race. The scent of your festive perfume filled his nostrils, like ginger biscuits.

“Go on,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure he could manage much more.

You swallowed thickly, fingers toying with the back of his sweater. Black, today. Loki hoped it was not an ensemble of foreshadowing. “I ran into your brother in the common room."

Loki exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh,” he breathed, a small smile breaking. But your expression didn’t change. The god felt your fingers pull nervously against his sweater. Bad for the knit. “He um-now, don’t be mad at him-” Loki began to frown. “He uh, mentioned that you were maybe thinking about...um, saying something soon. To me.” Realisation blossomed, vines of anger and embarrassment twisting around the thought as he cursed his brother’s loose lips. He should have known. Loki swallowed, feeling his features harden but being unable to stop it.

Your gaze fell, the trace of your fingertips around his middle as you brought them together in front of you; pulling nervously at the ends.

“That devious, two-faced buffoon” Loki muttered bitterly, concerned eyes darting back to your face. “I told him that in confidence.” You looked up at him incredulously. “Well, he told you about Steve in confidence.” “That’s different,” he snipped, noting the immediate rise of your eyebrow. “It’s you.” he finished, glancing to the floor as he felt his cheeks begin to flush. “Loki…” he heard you begin softly, curling a rogue strand of hair behind his ear. He couldn’t look. “Loki,” you repeated, firmer this time. Your forefinger nudged beneath his chin, tilting his face up. He wondered if he looked as wilted as he felt. From the look in your eyes, he suspected he did.

“I understand,” he heard himself say. It was petulant. It was cold and detached in a way that scared him. The warm hit of your lips meeting his unexpectedly made his knees buckle, hands bracing against the counter-top. Your palms slid up his chest, over the tensed ropes of shoulder muscle, over the curve of his neck. Everything was in that kiss. The heat, the longing, the need. “Loki,” you breathed softly into his open mouth. “Mmm,” he mewled, eyes closed. “I love that you feel that way, I’m just…I’m scared that-” Loki opened his eyes. He saw a swirl of tears threatening the beautiful hues of your irises. There would be no tears of sadness this Christmas, he had decided. Not on his account. “Afraid, of things that may change?” he probed quietly. You nodded.

Loki sighed, cupping your jaw. He ran a thumb back and forth across your lips, moist from the kiss. “Change be not always a harbinger of doom, I hope the last few months have reassured you of that.” You nodded again. “I know that it's different now, it just...took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected...I just-not yet...” you trailed off. Loki smiled softly. The way your body was pressed against him, as close as you could be. The way your fingers gripped and grasped against each dip of muscle it encountered as though he would turn to dust if you did not.

Loki realised in that moment that if this scenario had occurred years before, he would have been insulted. He would have been childish. Enraged, perhaps, at the audacity of the woman he adored doubting him. But now, all he felt was closeness. The bravery of your admission that he felt his soul. That you trusted him again.

Words, he pondered as he placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. What wounds have I inflicted on this woman with words.

Action must once more be paramount. The words can heal, he realised as he memorised the softness of your skin beneath his lips. But words can wait. “Perhaps we can agree” he began, measuring every syllable with the rise and fall of your chest against his own, “that, should you feel comfortable in doing so...you could, say it first- when it is right for you. When it is right for us.”

His voice was deep and melodic, a rumbling lullaby of devotion he willed would still your thundering heart. He hoped you could feel the love simmering in those words. He had never hoped anything more. You tilted your head into the curve of his neck, kissing the exposed skin. “-and be safe in the knowledge the sentiment will be returned, when you are ready” he added quietly.

Your hands slipped once more around his hips, pulling him tightly against you with your head buried in his neck. Loki held you like that, letting the waft perfume from your hair fill his nostrils.

I love you, he mouthed silently.

The soundless click of his tongue over mute syllables wound its way through strands of your hair.

He felt your fingers begin toying with the waistband of his trousers. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “Darling,” he purred as your head left his shoulder. You tilted your face to meet his gaze, alight with the comfortable joy he knew so well.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered. A smile had spread across your face that made Loki’s heart burst. The first button on his chinos popped. “Well, quite-” he smouldered playfully. Loki felt his hips rock upwards into your waiting palm, a low groan bubbling in his throat while you stroked the arousal growing beneath cotton. “You fixed the secret Santa, didn’t you?” you coaxed. Changing the subject, Loki noticed. But he let it pass. It was hardly a question.

Loki rolled his lips, pondering. “I may have ensured that my brother and Rogers drew each others names, yes.” He let out another moan as you squeezed the thick root of his cock through the chinos. “Good boy,” you hummed. It sent a shudder of need up his spine.

“How long have you been planning this?” you said, beginning to walk backwards with Loki’s sweater firmly in your grip. He chuckled, curls tapping against his jaw. “A while,” Loki smouldered. “Seeds that I have planted have sprouted most elegantly. Although there were a few pieces of the puzzle which remained unclear until the last few days.”

You paused, making the god’s stomach collide with yours. He released an exaggerated ooft.

“Final pieces of the puzzle? Like the fact they actually have feelings for each other?” you giggled. Loki shrugged non-nonchalantly. You were playing. “A minor detail,” he drawled. “Everything needed to be in place, just in case.” Your mouth hung open, stunned into silence. “It’s Christmas,” he added with mock-incredulity – as though it explained everything. “Miraculous things happen at Christmas in this realm, do they not?”

His fingers curled around your shoulders, switching your positions and lowering himself to the sofa. He widened his legs, hips flexing upwards. Fairy lights gleamed and sparked their warmth in a halo, golden spills rolling over your skin as you pulled the jumper you wore over your head. Firelight flickered, casting dancing shadows against the walls.

He would never understand the beauty of you. And perhaps, Loki surmised, he did not have to. It was his fortune to appreciate it, not question it.

A finger twirled in the air, evaporating his clothes in a seasonal golden and scarlet shimmer. Yours followed. Loki’s thighs widened further as you manoeuvred onto his lap, covering his mouth in a hungry kiss. His fingers raked through your hair, hips bucking up as he sought the sweetest harbour his body had ever known.

“Say it again,” he pleaded darkly as you slipped a hand between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock to your entrance. Twin gasps cut the air as you seated yourself on the thick tip, slow motions rocking down into shallow moans. “Good boy,” you murmured lovingly in his ear.

Loki let his head fall back against the cushions, fingertips sinking into the soft rounds of your ass as he bottomed out. He let you work against his body, feeling your pleasure spill and slip against the taut veins of his cock. Every little gasp, every breathy groan of his name. Your god. Each slow roll of your hips met the gentle buck from a clench of his ass. Your god. He was yours, completely.

You knew that now for certain. He was sure of it. And all the while, a few floors below, his brother was wrapping a gift for Steve Rogers.

As the final strip of crinkled sellotape was placed firmly against the paper, and as the ribbon he had smuggled from the common room garland was retied- one might have been forgiven for thinking a green light glowed within it; leaking from loose edges.

Thor had frowned, doing a double take.

The package seemed to tingle in his hold. The blonde put the strange feeling down to nerves.

But as his younger brother lost himself in pleasure, spilling his seed and his devotion within the arms of his beloved; the gift had been made whole in Thor’s oblivious hands.

A gift that would change everything.

Continued in Comfort and Joy (Final)

Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki odinson #loki (marvel)#loki imagine #loki x you #loki x female reader smut #loki x yn #loki x reader smut #loki gif

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ashfae · 8 months

Note

Er yes. You seem to have good taste in GO fics. Got anymore faves I can read when I should be working or paying attention to my child? 😝

I'm really flattered you asked! And I also have 50 pages of fics bookmarked and no idea where to begin aaahhhh! So I'll just, errr, lob a bunch onto here: Obviously there's the trifecta of GO fic brilliance, Slow Show, Pray For Us Icarus, and Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach. Everyone knows them, you don't need me to babble.

Other faves in no particular order and of all types because if I try to be organized about this I'll spend months at it and never post it:

Be As You've Always Been - by gyzym

It Was Always You - by mltefry

Truth or Dare - by @kanna-ophelia (also Stay) What God Hath Wrought - by @saretton

What We Make Of It (Shotgun Wedding) - by @charlottemadison42 (this fic made me a better parent, I'm not kidding) (see also Or Be Nice because choosing between them would leave me screaming for weeks)

In the Pocket of the Universe - by @indieninja92

Choose Your Faces Wisely - by @featherquillpen (this fic changed my life in ways I find it very difficult to express)

Dark Roast Espresso at the Purgatory Cafe - by @copperplatebeech

Thieves of Mercy - by @amuseoffyre

Oh Maker - by @voluptatiscausa

Lunacy - by @snae-b

a lighthouse, burning - by @books-and-omens

The Book of Ruth - by @racketghost (the whole Strange Moons series but for me especially this one)

Scales From the Eyes - by @yoites-good-omens-blog

Love in the Days of an Ill-Timed Plague - by @scrapbramble

Of Boxes, Boas, and Bastards - by @hkblack

Saltwater - by @heycaricari

Demon and Angel Professors - by ghostinthehouse (this looks long and intimidating but chapters are very short and entirely worth it)

oh god I'll stop there or I never will even though I've left out SO MANY of my favourites ahhhhhh /smashes post button

#good omens fanfic recs

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msgexymunson · 1 year

Text

Rumour Part 5: Ready

Description: After your love confession, you're wondering if Eddie feels the same. Something happens to make him see how special you are to him.

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI this isn't for you bbys, the usual trifecta of angst, smut and fluff, brief violence (not between reader and Eddie) L bombs, brief male and fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex

A/N: this is the penultimate part!! I'll be sorry to see this version of Eddie go, I'm so happy you lot liked him as much as I do! If you enjoy this, please comment and reblog if you like it, it seriously makes my day reading your comments ❤

5.8k words

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Sitting at your dressing table, you claw your hair into a sensible ponytail, fussing with the fluffy bits that stick out the sides. You really weren't in the mood to put a full face of makeup on, so you just apply mascara and lip gloss. It helped with tips.

Sighing into the room, you pout, attempting to stare down your own reflection, your mind wandering to the sticky dark cloud that clung to you. Intrusive thoughts had grabbed you and refused to let go for a week now. Black tar thoughts; slow moving, bitter and impossible to remove.

You hear your front door open with a rustle of leather and a creak of boots.

"Hey baby." You call out of the door frame, still fixated with your countenance in the mirror.

"Hey sweet thing, you good?" Eddie's voice is higher than usual and bursting with barely concealed excitement.

You don't trust your words, sensing they'll betray you, so you settle with a nonchalant "uh huh. You?"

"Pretty girl, I've got something to tell you."

You're sure your ears would have swivelled towards him if they could, heart suddenly inflating in hope. You turn to him, taking in his beaming face.

"What is it?"

He's pacing your room at this point, telling you what's clearly been dying to burst out of his chest, words manifesting with undeniable glee.

"Well, you remember that band we saw?" You nod, shoulders dropping, heart sinking again.

"The guitarist came into my shop for a tattoo, right, and told me they've had a falling out with the front man, Bill or Buck or whatever. Anyways, we got talking and I told him I could sing, and one thing lead to another- well guess where I just came from? Their managers office, I'm in! They want me as a front man! They're going to change the name, and obviously we need to practise and stuff, but I'm gonna be in a band! With a manager! Isn't that awesome?"

He squats by where you're sitting, grasping your hands in his. You've never seen his eyes more alive. His coarse thumbs rub circles into the backs of your delicate hands.

You do your best to swallow the lump in your throat, the disappointment bitter on your tongue. This clearly means the world to him, and you are pleased for him, truly. A smile adorns your face, warm and loving, even if it doesn't reach your eyes.

"I'm so happy for you Eddie." Leaning forward you press a soft kiss to his mouth as a distraction. He smiles against your mouth.

"It's gonna be great sweets, for both of us." You can't help but scoff slightly at his comment but he doesn't seem to notice, instead moving to mouth at your throat, nibbling at your ear.

"Eddie what are you doing?"

"I'm happy," he says, sucking at the pressure point in your neck, making you stifle a moan, "I need you."

You laugh mirthlessly "well, do you know what I need?" The words have more bite than intended, an edge to your voice that's razor sharp, cutting through the room and changing the ambiance in a heartbeat.

Eddie's taken aback, leaning on his heels. "What do you need sweets?"

"I need-" not now, not now, he's so happy, just drop it. "I need to go to work." You finish lamely.

"I can drive you, I'm not working tonight."

"It's fine, Eddie, I could use the walk."

You stand, wrenching yourself away from him and his soft eyes. Marching into the living room you perch on the sofa to put your shoes on. Eddie's propped up in the doorway, frowning at you.

"I don't like you walking at night on your own."

You laugh at him, the sharp sound nipping; it has teeth. "Eddie it's 7 o'clock. I'm a grown ass woman, I'll be fine. Can't you trust me to look after myself?"

"It's not like that sweets and you know it." Long strides cut you off from the front door, his arms folded.

"I just need some space. Fresh air." You stand up to leave, but Eddie's about as immovable as a mountain; all rocky arms and stony glare.

"Can I leave? I'm gonna be late."

"I said, I'll drive you." He's towering over you, broad and intimidating.

You stick your chin out, mustering your courage.

"And I said no." You push past him but he holds your upper arm with a firm hand.

"Sweet thing what's this about?" He ducks down to your height, searching your face for clues.

Your eyes are glossy, vision beginning to blur. "You know exactly what this is about."

Eddie steps back, releasing your arm. "Sweetheart, I..." he trails off, arms falling to his sides. "I don't know what to say."

"Then don't. Lock the door when you leave."

You ignore further wordless protests from him and pull your front door open, not bothering to close it as you march into the biting cold, struggling to put your coat on as you go. You refuse to look behind you, knowing he's outlined in your doorway, watching you leave.

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

The bar is a bustling, chaotic mess when you get there. It's unusual, but you're very welcome for the distraction. You serve drinks, run around collecting glasses, and make yourself as busy as possible.

Nothing can quiet the dark voice inside your head.

You're an idiot. Why didn't you just talk to him? You're acting like a brat. No wonder he doesn't treat you like a woman.

As soon as you push any of your self deprecating thoughts aside however, more comments run through your head like a freight train.

Him not treating you like a woman is not your fault. He said it already, he called you a play thing. Maybe that's how he sees you? But why would he do all that for your birthday if he doesn't care about you? Why won't he just say it?

You stop for a second behind the bar, pinching the bridge of your nose. Maybe if you pinch hard enough the thoughts will go away.

"Hey darlin', you ok?"

Looking up, you're met with the ashy mop of hair and concerned eyes of Matt.

"Hey, sorry just real busy tonight, what can I get you, the usual?"

"Yeah, and a glass of red for the lady."

You look over his shoulder and see the unmistakable blonde hair and, well, physique, of Estelle.

"Oh, are you two-"

"Together, yeah." He beams at you.

"Aw that's real sweet, happy for you," you smile back, "hey you know there's a free booth over there, there's a reserved sign on it but it doesn't look like they're coming. Just, collect some glasses for me, ok?"

"Sure thing sweets." You flinch at that; continuing to get him his order.

After a while the hubbub dies down and your manager leaves you to lock up. It's just you and four drunks, and Matt and Estelle sucking each other's faces like there's no tomorrow.

Shouting last call, they're ushered out of the bar, leaving you to lock up. You think about calling Eddie to come get you, then remember how you left. Guilt twinges your stomach.

This is stupid.

You pick up the phone and call his number, nerves bubbling in your gut. After four rings, it defaults to voicemail. There's no way he's asleep already. He clearly doesn't want to speak to you.

Grabbing your belongings you leave, locking the front door behind you. You stomp briskly in the direction of home, trying to move fast to avoid the cold, your breath fogging in the air.

You're so lost in thought that the first time you see the two men in front of you is when you walk head first into one of them. Shock shakes you; a sharp cold breath shoots into your chest. Nearly falling, you teeter until one of them grabs you by the arm.

"Woah, falling for me are you?" He laughs perniciously, helping you get your balance. You look up at a tall, gruff looking man, wearing a dirty Demin jacket. A rough, wanton demeanour radiates from him. Dangerous. He keeps his hold on your arm despite your pleading eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

The other guy speaks up, moving to stand behind you. Crowding you; a silent threat, an escape blocked.

"You ought be more careful." Every word seems heavy and considered, like it was an effort to string a sentence together. You could smell the booze from here.

"Look, I'm sorry ok, I've got to go." You go to pull your arm free but he just grips you tighter.

"Seems you owe us a proper apology. Hot young girl like you, you should come with us."

Fear stabs you in the stomach; a red hot knife falls through your guts, twisting and cauterising as it goes.

"Yeah, we're havin' party." The man behind slurs out. You feel an unwelcome hand travel to your waist, flesh crawling with horripilation.

"Hey, let go of me!" You move to punch with your free arm but it's instantly pinned to your side by the gruff man in front of you. Hot alcohol breath is in your face, making you cringe and scrunch your nose up, panic gripping you as tightly as his hands.

Suddenly the hand on your waist is wrenched loose and you hear a dull thud. A shadow is cast over your shoulder, blocking the street light. You try to open your mouth to ask for help when a familiar low voice growls out.

"Don't you dare lay your fuckin' hands on the woman I love."

You see a blur, and hear a sick thud. It sounds wet and crunchy. Unable to process what's happening you stand there, frozen in shock. There's a scuffle, but it sounds underwater; after a while a firm hand guides you to an open car door. You smell cigarettes, and weed, and Aramis aftershave. Eddie.

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

The next thing you're aware of is Eddie's apartment, Eddie's couch, safety; a blanket over your shoulders and a mug of something hot being placed into your waiting hands.

Eddie's crouching in front of you, hand with roughened bloodied knuckles stroking your arm so, so gently.

Your eyes refocus and there he is, chiselled jaw clenched, brown eyes filled with worry, blood running down the side of his face.

"You're bleeding Eddie." Placing the mug down with shaking hands, your fingers come up to his face.

"Fuck, you're ok." He collapses to his knees, pulling you in for a tight squeeze. Both of his arms encapsulate you, hands splayed against your back, holding you close.

His voice is muffled as he continues, speaking into your abdomen. "I was so worried when you wouldn't say anything, I didn't know what to do."

He pulls back enough so you can look down at his face. To your shock, tracks of tears run down his cheeks, shining in the light.

"Baby, you're crying." Your brows knot as you stare in the face of this dishevelled man in front of you.

He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and half laughs, "yeah, seem to be doing a lot of that tonight."

Your heart breaks at that remark, splintering at the thought of causing him pain. Standing up, Eddie stands too, holding onto your shoulders.

"What are you doing sweets?"

"Sit down I need to clean you up."

"No don't worry you sit-"

"Eddie, you're bleeding."

He finally sits down, holding his hands up in submission.

Fetching a first aid kit, a wash cloth and a bowl of warm water, you sit next to him on the couch and clean the blood off of his face, grateful to have something to do.

"I think you need stitches baby." You frown at the cut on his eyebrow.

"No it's fine, eyebrow cuts just bleed a lot. Trust me, I used to get beat up all the time." You give him some cotton wool so he can hold it against his eyebrow to try and stop the bleeding.

Taking his bear paw of a hand in yours, you gently take his rings off and dab lightly at the blood marks with the cloth, water in the bowl turning murky.

"Did you mean it?" Practically a whisper, knowing your voice will break if you say it any louder.

"You remember that huh?" He chuckles, still holding the cotton to his brow.

"Pretty hard to forget Eddie." On cleaning his hand it looks like most of the blood isn't his.

"Pretty shitty way to hear it for the first time. I'm sorry, I'm a stupid asshole." He huffs, looking down.

"Hey," his eyes meet yours, red raw and soft. "You're not an asshole."

"So I'm just stupid yeah?" He flashes a lopsided grin.

"Hey, you said it not me." He chuckles at that.

You gesture for him to move the cotton wool. The bleeding has stopped. You go over it with an antiseptic wipe and bandage it for him.

"You know, I tried to call you, for a ride. And I felt awful. I'm sorry. I should have spoken to you."

"Well, I felt awful too. I thought you didn't want to see me, so I waited outside the bar and tailed you home."

"Wow," you giggle, impressed by his chivalry, "I'd call you a creep but you saved me. So, thank you."

"Anything for you sweet thing." You blush at that.

"You're so fuckin' cute. I just, I'm sorry. And for the record, I don't fight, not really, but I saw them touching you and I just lost it. Can I explain a little?"

You nod, feeling your eyes already start to fill with tears. He takes your hands in his, looking at you dead in the eye.

"I'm not used to people wanting me. I'm not used to people staying, you know? Everyone always leaves me. I thought if I distanced myself a little, it would help, when you realised you were too good for me and left. When you realised I was too old for you."

Your heart swells, filled with love for this soft, vulnerable boy.

"Eddie, when have I ever mentioned your age? Or mine? I don't care. You are good, you're spectacular. You're mine. I love you."

"Pretty girl, I love you too."

Rough hands meet soft cheeks, chapped lips meet smooth. Crushing your lips together, you sigh in contentment, kissing the man you love.

His tongue laps into your mouth, softly massaging yours. You feel the chime of steel against steel. He quickly pulls away.

"Shit can I kiss you yet, I'm sorry I forgot-"

"It's fine Eddie, please." You press your mouth against his eagerly, tongue pushing into him. You take turns massaging each others tongues with your studs. It's sensual in a way you can't describe, an infinite connection, the sensation leaving you both breathless. Every movement conveyed with a lasting passion, an adoration for the ages.

His fingers start fumbling at your shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. He breaks away from you so he can start trailing hot little kisses all over your collar bone.

"Can I take you to the bedroom? I want to take my time with you."

You nod, biting your lip in anticipation. He doesn't scoop you up in his arms, like he does when he's desperate. He simply stands up and holds his hand out to you. You take it, allowing him to lead you gently to the bedroom.

You both perch on the edge of the bed, hands sweeping over torsos, ridding each other of your shirts. Each inch of skin displayed earns a kiss, each kiss earns another. Soft fingers trace tattoos, calloused hands rub warm flesh.

Time is inconsequential; nothing as crass as time could possibly invade this moment. You explore each others bodies as if it were the first time; touching, stroking, kissing.

Dragging your nails down his naked chest procures you a hiss through his teeth. You smirk, planting open mouthed kisses over every patch of skin, guiding him to lie back with your delicate palm. He complies, resting one arm under his head, the other hand stroking softly at the back of your head.

Unbuttoning his jeans, you pull them down slowly along with his underwear, stopping to kiss at the apex of his toned thighs. No matter how many times you see it, you can't help but think how pretty his dick is. Huge and girthy, resting against his stomach, flushed nearly purple at the tip, leading to the heavy steel bar though the slit.

You press little teasing kisses up the shaft and down the sides, watching it twitch at your ministrations. When you lick all the way up and circle the tip he practically whimpers; the steel of his piercing hitting the metal ball in your mouth.

Moving to rid yourself of your jeans he stops you to do it himself. Laying you down just where he was, he inches them down so, so slowly, kissing and licking at each inch of your exposed skin. The sensations building are progressing straight to your molten core, lava threatening to bubble out at all his small, careful, gentle touches.

Kneeling between your legs, thick digits trace the outline of your heat, spreading around your growing wetness. He leans over you, lips brushing your own, leaving paper trace kisses, his nose whispering against the side of yours.

"You're so beautiful like this. My beautiful good girl. I love you so much it fuckin' hurts."

With that, he sinks two large fingers into your pussy, gliding through your slick easily. You grasp at his biceps, mouth forming a silent gasp, heavily lidded eyes seeking his.

"I love you Eddie, you're- you're everything."

Eyes shining, he kisses the tip of your nose, the movements of his hand slow and soft.

You whine at his touches, gasping breaths escape your lungs as you stare into his eyes. He quickens his pace but you still him with a squeeze of your hand.

"Please, baby."

He knows what you need. Moments later he's between your legs, hard length rubbing against your folds.

"Like this, ok sweet thing?" A rough thumb pad strokes against your cheek as your breaths intermingle.

"Yes, please."

He smiles and pushes into you, diffusing the gentlest kisses over your forehead, cheeks, lips.

The feeling of being filled by him never ceases to amaze you. You feel him, in every pore, every cell. You open to him, exposed and vulnerable. Staring into his eyes you see him, really see him. He's just as exposed, just as vulnerable. Stroking at his cheek, you peck him lightly on the lips, allowing him to move.

Your bodies meld together, hips meeting in perfect unison. You feel his muscles tensing against your own; inked skin rippling against you, rose hip tattoo sliding against his skin.

Hooking your legs around him, you pull him deeper, and deeper. Your moans crest in a wave of longing, loud and lascivious. He smirks at the volume of your want, giving you exactly what you need. The bubbling heat of your release overflows, pouring out of your heat and into the universe, the feeling stretching and lasting forever; you and Eddie, an eternity in a moment.

Quivering and gasping, you make it back to this plane of existence, grasping at the roots of Eddie's hair in fear that you'll float away, begging with your eyes for God knows what. He takes one of your shaking hands in his own, lapping at your fingertips with his pierced tongue, deft kisses bringing you back to the here and now.

Smiling against your fingers when he sees you've made it back to him, he cages you in the unassailable fortress that is his arms; safe and warm and loved.

He holds you, large hand nearly encompassing your thigh, keeping you close as he moves against you. Both of you are glistening, the very aura around you pulsing in a crimson cloud of passion.

You're surrounded, engulfed and taken by him. There is nothing else except Eddie; this beautifully broken man, with his barely contained ardour, and his fragile soul.

You feel him speed up, mouth beginning to hang open, chasing his release. Pressing soft kisses to him, you map out your love over his cheek and jaw. He presses his forehead to yours, wide eyes locking, as he releases inside of you. Burly arms cling to you as he falls from that precipice, a tight embrace of consummation. The steady panting of his chest presses into you, wordless for a moment.

"Well, that was... intense" he chuckles softly into the skin of your neck, overridden by sheer joy. You stroke the back of his head.

"Yeah I know baby, same."

"Can we just stay like this? For a while?" The roundest doe eyes gaze at you.

"Of course we can. Just like this."

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

Three months later and you're squeezing your way past giggling girls and denim clad men trying desperately to get to the backstage area, clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels to your chest. You're honestly impressed, this is the biggest crowd you'd seen them play for; there had to be a couple hundred people in this place at least.

After a few starter shows in dive bars, and a lot of practises, they were playing their first official gig as their rebranded band, Tongue Tattoo.

When Eddie had first told you the name you were very confused, staring up at him with an empty furrowed brow, wide eyes innocently gaping.

"But Eddie, you don't have a tongue tattoo."

"That's not what it means sweets."

"But what could it possibly-" Eddie flicked his tongue in an obscene gesture towards you, making you blush profusely.

"Eddie you can't call your band after-"

"-eating pussy? Why not? You seem to enjoy it." All smug grin and wandering hands as he pulled you in.

Thinking about it, it did seem appropriate. It was filthy, and sexy, and very Eddie.

Finally wiggling your way past some biker types in leather jackets you see two bouncers in front of you. Thankfully they remembered you, allowing you to pass with a nod and a wink.

You shuffle through the door, pulling down the front of your too short skirt with one hand, desperately clinging to the bottle with the other. Smoothing down the wrinkles in your top you let out a sigh of preparation and move down the narrow corridor into the back stage area.

If you could call it that. Bare brick and old sofas, a broken amp being used as a side table in the corner, cigarette butts on the floor. The room was swamped in smoke and noise; music playing from a beat up stereo, guitars being tuned, a couple of giggly girls hovering near the drummer trying to get his attention whilst he was in deep conversation with Anthony, the bass player.

Eddie's hunched over his guitar, fiddling with the strings, when Rich the guitarist nudges him. He looks up and sees you, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Well, my pretty girl, holding a pretty bottle. What you doing fetching drinks? You don't need to do that sweets." You're drawn in to the warmth of his smile, hands grabbing to pull you in by the flesh of your hips, guitar pinched awkwardly between you both.

"I wanted to. It's a gift for you and the guys. For good luck." He grins whilst you pull yourself away for a moment, grabbing some loose glasses on the side and handing out a shot for each of them.

"Hey, don't forget yourself sweet thing."

"Oh I'm not-"

"-part of the band? Pretty girl, you've been to every practise, every dive bar, helped with equipment. Come on." You flush at his words but pour yourself a drink anyway.

Toasting to the band, you knock the bourbon back, relishing the burn.

The band are called and you move to leave to support them front and centre of the crowd, but Eddie has you by the wrist.

He pulls you in roughly, and speaks low and sultry in your ear.

"And don't think I didn't notice this tiny skirt," he says, grabbing you by the ass. Then his voice lowers further, almost a growl, just for you.

"When the show ends I'm going to fuckin' ruin you."

His words flood through you, leaving chaos in their wake. You're all wide eyes and clenched thighs.

Flashing you a grin and a wink as if nothing happened, he allows you to leave. You gape for a moment, then remember yourself and find your way out of the room and to the front of the crowd, elbowing your way to your place.

A couple of fans notice you and move out of your way. One guy even pulls you in front of him so you can see. No one wants to upset Eddie.

And suddenly it's all lights and noise as they come on stage and you see your beloved once again in all his glory. This is where he's supposed to be. You knew it the first time you'd seen him perform. He prowls across the stage as if he owns it, as if it were made for him.

They whip the crowd into a frenzy, playing a mixture of original songs and covers. The style you recognise from that night you'd seen the band without Eddie leading them, but now they had an edge. It was darker, sexier. As always he brought this undeniable sin to the table that sent the crowd crazy.

And that was all before he unbuttoned his shirt.

Girls screamed. Hell, some guys screamed. Eddie laughed deep into the microphone, and you noticed a splash of colour on his chest, deep red, that wasn't there before. There's an unnatural shine to it. You squint and finally figure out it's a plastic layer; he must have gotten a new tattoo, just over his heart. It's not until he finishes a song, taps the pop of red twice and points directly at you, that you see what it is.

It's a rose, almost identical to your own. The permanence of the act makes tears prickle behind your eyes, a gush of feeling flooding your heart.

Almost as suddenly as the show starts, it's over. The energy in the room is palpable, electrifying. It was definitely a good gig; you're certain the band are going to be pleased.

Pushing and shoving your way backstage, you get there just as Eddie does.

"Baby that was incredible!"

He picks you up in his large hands and spins you around making you squeal like a school girl.

"Yes it fuckin' was! Incredible. C'mere."

Before you can blink he's pulling you in for a devastating kiss.

"Hey, come on guys, get a room!" You hear Anthony groan.

"We have a room Tony, you just happen to be in it." Eddie bites back, grinning carnivorously.

"Seriously? Not cool!"

Eddie laughs, but nods at the guys and pulls you through a door, down a hallway, and into what you can only assume is a supply closet. You haven't exactly got much time to take in your surroundings before Eddie's biting at your throat.

"Eddie, wait just one second!" You giggle, pushing his head away. Wild eyes meet yours. You can feel the post show glow practically vibrating through his system; you know you have a small window if that.

You hold your small hands to his shoulders, ducking your head to actually look at the new ink he has.

It's nearly identical to your own rose tattoo he gave you about nine months ago, just a slightly different style. It's a little more illustrated, slightly less realistic. It's still beautiful, a perfect accompaniment to your own.

"Eddie, its beautiful. I don't know what to say."

He gives you a lob sided smile, stroking at the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

"I love you sweet thing."

"I love you too baby."

You're about to lean forward to give him a sweet kiss but your mouth hits nothing but air.

Eddie's fallen to his knees, reaching under your skirt to pull your panties down. You kick them off and away. Expecting to feel his tongue, your eyes half close in anticipation.

The world falls downward. Suddenly, Eddie's picking you up, your head advancing towards the ceiling. He's lifted you with ease, bear like hands grasping at your ass, your thighs either side of his head. Pulling your heat towards his waiting lips; he's holding you in the air like a rag doll.

Abrupt slam of your back into shelves; Eddie's dexterous tongue laps between your folds. A guttural moan winds its way out of your lungs, tinged with animalistic need. The heat of his mouth is igniting the fire within you, hips rolling into him as nature intended.

You want to tell him he's making you come. You want to tell him how much he means, how good this is. All you manage is a broken scream and a muttered "Eddie, oh fuck!"

Eddie knows. He forces his face into you, ferocious intent clearly exhibited. His tongue is wickedness personified; fiendishly flicking into your core, so evilly it may as well have been forked.

Fire bubbles deep within you, an unearthly lust boiling just under the surface of your skin, waiting to lash out with all the force of hellfire.

Eddie sucks on your clit like the devil himself and forces your release out of you. Your thighs clamp around his head as your orgasm flies through every nerve ending with a cleansing fire. Your moans ricochet through the tiny room and probably out to the rest of the band. You're past caring at this point.

Panting and sweating, you want to take a moment to centre yourself but there's no opportunity. Eddie's pinning you to the shelves with one arm, as if you were his toy. The other is frantically pulling at his belt and fly.

Pushing his pants down just enough, he slides you down his sweating torso and towards his waiting dick.

You feel him breach you and bite your lip to control the burning sensation. Even in this elevated state, Eddie knows he's a lot to handle. He bottoms out, grunting with the feeling of finally being seated inside of you, but gives you a moment to adjust.

"You ok sweet thing?" His words are heady and husky, barely containing the predatory want, devious desire spreading into his very vocal chords.

"Yeah baby," you manage in a small voice.

That's all he needs. Eddie's huge hands are grabbing you by the flesh of your ass, pulling you up and down his length. He's using your body, his puppet to control; a burning effigy for his desires.

"My fucking good girl, letting me use her like this. Fucking pussy beginning to be used." He's growling, low voice shaking slightly with each heavy thrust.

You moan, clenching at his filth, slick from your cunt dripping down your thighs.

"Yeah? That good huh? So fucking filthy for me, so ready for me to fuck you. Shit, hang on."

He pulls you off bodily and places you on your feet, only to spin you around and force your front into the wall, kicking your legs apart.

The tip of his solid cock is teasing your entrance, breath of his words ghosting your ear.

"You can take me like this, huh? My good girl."

You're about to scream your submission to the heavens when he pushes back into you with no warning, turning your scream into a whimper.

One of his hands twirls into your hair, forcibly pulling your hair back so he can plant burning open mouthed kisses to your throat. His thrusts are unyielding, pushing his entire length into you, leaving dull bruises deep inside. Gasping at the relentless onslaught you tighten around him, feeling another orgasm about to race through you.

"You're gonna come, I can feel it. Don't you fucking dare. You wait, you come when I come. You come when I tell you to come."

You tighten your muscles, cunt constricting his cock, eyes tight shut. Your impending release is held on a gossamer thread, grasped by the fingertips of his threat.

"Eddie, please please please-" it's just babble at this point; inane, needy noises.

He speeds up his powerful thrusts, one hand holding you against the wall by your throat.

"You do as I fucking say. You want to be my good girl, don't you?"

You attempt to nod, head lolling to the side, only held upright by his firm grip.

Hot breath, a low whisper on the shell of your ear, "I asked you a question."

"Please, please, I'm your good girl!" So high pitched; you'd think you sounded pathetic if you were aware of anything other than Eddie's thick cock penetrating your entire being.

"Ok, fuck, I'm gonna come, come with me, please, oh fuck-"

Eyes tight shut, you do as you're told. Your release cries out, speeding through you, ripping out of your very soul and beyond, leaving your decency and sense of self in tatters, torn by Eddie's hands. Every bone turns, changes, now slipping into useless puddles, muscles unresponsive and uncaring. You'd sink to the floor if Eddie wasn't pinning you to the wall, with not a thought in that pretty head of yours.

Eddie gently pulls his member from you and softly sits you down on a nearby stool, pulling up his pants. He kneels in front of you, palms pressing into your thighs.

"Fuck, I'm sorry if that was a bit much pretty girl." Half a laugh huffs out his chest.

"It's ok, it's fine, baby." You want to sound sure, confident. Your voice is a whisper, a shadow of itself.

"Shit sweets you know what to say if it's too much." He frowns, palm coming rest on your chin as if he was inspecting your face for damage.

You hold his sure hand in your trembling fingers, softly kissing at his skin.

"I'm ok, I know what you needed."

He laughs, pulling you in for a crushing hug. Voice in your hair, you hear "the fuck did I do to deserve you."

"Something really good?" You smile, relishing his hold on you.

"Seems unlikely but I'll take it" he grins, "you're an angel."

Preening at his praise, you soak up the feeling of Eddie pressed against you, the love of your life holding you as tightly as he can.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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cogentranting · 6 months

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Ranking Animated Horse Designs Take 3

This time I really am back by popular demand because the other two posts have been getting a steady trickle of notes for over a year now.

(If you're looking for stuff like Disney and Dreamworks there are two other posts. Here we've got mostly random cartoons and also the Pokemon horses)

Starlite (Rainbow Brite) 6/10 Little weird that he seems to be drawn in a style that's like 3x more realistic than any other character in this show but hey sometimes you just ascend to a higher plane of existence. (2014 Reboot Starlite gets a 3/10. I do not trust him.)

Skydancer (Rainbow Brite) 7/10 I bumped Starlite down a point because he wants what Skydancer has. Skydancer doesn't need rainbows to fly. Skydancer has a lightning bolt. Skydancer has the Drama. (The one wiki page said he's a Shire or a Clydesdale and um I don't think so. Maybe a Friesian.)

On-yx (Rainbow Brite) This is a rocket powered balloon animal. 2/10

Sunriser (Rainbow Brite) 5/10 Eh. I like her hair though.

Swift Wind (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power/ She-Ra Princess of Power)

Right (older version) 8/10 I don't understand the wing physics going on here. Also not sure if the horn is part of the mask or just attached to the mask. Diggin the bib though. Also love that he's a ginger.

Left (new version) 4/10 If the older version wasn't there this would score higher because just as a character design I don't think it's bad but if these are supposed to be the same character he seems so cutesy and I do not vibe with it. I don't know either show. So maybe that works. But it feels wrong.

Amalthea (The Last Unicorn) 9/10 They gave the unicorn the split deer hooves, and the lions tail and that is automatic points from me. Bummed they didn't go all out and give us the goat's beard. Rude. Any distance shot, I love. Close-ups of the face creep me out with the giant doll eyes and tiny nose.

(Pokemon and more below)

Honey Pie Pony (Strawberry Shortcake) 8/10 Adorable. Fantastically chunky design. The others from this... show? book? brand? are like 6s or 5s depending. But Honey Pie has the It factor. (The It Factor here apparently being that recurring pattern of only the main character's horse being able to talk?? This is the third. Swift Wind, Starlite and Honey Pie have dark secrets about how they come by this knowledge).

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic "ponies" Just as characters they're cute in a "trying so hard to be cute that they almost miss the mark entirely" way. But this is about how they are as HORSE designs. And these are magical gremlins not horses. 1/10 (WHAT is happening on the far right of this set. I do not approve. Zebra is fine though).

My Little Pony: A New Generation Like if the MLP: FM ponies and the Trolls characters somehow had children. Somehow the main character of Bee Movie was also involved. The one on the left makes TikTok thirst traps. -2/10

My Little Pony Tales 3/10 I can almost tell they're meant to be horses. Plus that one has a tattoo of a comb. So. Full extra point for the comb tattoo.

Bratz Horses I can't tell if there's an official video game or cartoon design for these but in ANY given version I found the conclusion is the same: if you look into the gigantic distended eye you will be put under the horse's curse. 1/10

Boxer (Animal Farm) 4/10 All horses are equal but some are more equal than others, but Boxer is not one of them because his mouth is not okay.

Marvin (Marvin the Tap Dancing Horse) 5/10 I mean. Dude's got spats. Come on.

Ponyta (Pokemon) 3/5 The armpit and middle thigh flames were a choice.

Rapidash (Pokemon) 8/10 Look at his face. The angst. He has seen things.

Mudsdale (Pokemon) 8/10 The classic mohawk, dreadlocks and legwarmers trifecta. Love it. Would love to hug him.

Galarian Ponyta 3/10 It's giving sheep, and it's giving dog. Very little horse.

Galarian Rapidash (Pokemon) 4/10 He's angry because his hair is too long and he can't walk and also he has not eaten enough somebody feed this horse.

Origin Palkia (Pokemon) 6/10 A built-in hoola-hoop AND thigh high Boots?! what fashion.

Keldeo (Pokemon) 1/10 Clown goat.

Spectrier (Pokemon) 10/10 Beautiful goth girl horse floating around like a Victorian ghost who's too modest to show her ankles.

Mudbray (Pokemon) 5/10 He has passed through the depths of existential dread and returned world-weary but unshakeable and with a snazzy bowl cut.

Glastrier (Pokemon)

20/10 ICE HORSE ICE HORSE ICE HORSE. I love him so much. He's punk rock

The Fat Horse (Looney Tunes) 10/10 Queen.

#horse rating #horses #horse girl #pokemon #rainbow brite #mlp #my little pony #the last unicorn #she-ra #strawberry shortcake #long post #i put in a page break this time

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strandedcrow · 9 months

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hi friend you're a video essay enjoyer i believe do you have any recommendations people and or videos? need somethin interestin to listen to while tryin to draw

HELLO FRIEND ok so skipping over the obvious popular ones (victorious, roblox oof, defunctland in general, my house.wad, etc) some of my favorites are:

The Downward Spiral of Watching Velma: one that i only found recently, a lengthy deep dive into the shitty hbo velma show so that u don’t have to watch it

How SunnyV2 Ruined Video Essays: also one i found recently, a shorter one which provides a meta analysis of video essays on youtube, also got me back into video essays tbh

How Sponegbob Explored Existential Nihilism: VERY short one (under 10 minutes) but actually neat

I Found Every OSHA Violation in FNAF Security Breach: there are so fucking many

The Biggest Cheater in Clone Hero History Was Finally Caught: honestly it’s been a rocky past couple weeks for the CH community bc just recently Multiple big name players have admitted to cheating so like calling this person the biggest cheater might not even be accurate anymore but like. still a rlly good watch

Bojack Horseman Full Series Retrospective: if you want lengthy here it is (almost 6 hour analysis of every season)

Disney Trash Can Tier List: not rlly a video essay at all however it’s such a random tier list to make and it’s delightful

Dream (Market) - The Infiltration of the Dark Net: literally an insane fucking story one of my absolute favorite barely sociable videos bc the whole story is just so fucking wild

The Dark Side of the Silk Road: one of my other favorites from barely sociable

Explaining: This House Has People In It: one of my favorite youtubers providing a complete analysis of my favorite arg/analog horror project HIGHLY recommend this one btw

DHMIS Explained: another from the same youtuber, but this time with defunctland style production (before defunctland started having these vibes. honestly maybe a little the other way around given this is 6 years old)

Fear of the Deep: nexpo is the third of my horror/unsettling internet history trifecta that i watch in this list (barely sociable, night mind, and nexpo my beloveds), this one was made just before oceangate, but talks about a few different projects that focus on. ig a fear of the deep really

#ask #goopyguy #take yuor pick LMAO #thumbs up emoji

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hiskillingjar · 1 month

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your honor.... i need fem ren headcanons.... i need tiny evil feral foxgirl to save me.....

rounding out the trifecta (quad-fecta?) of girlfailures with the BIGGEST girlfailure

hcs for law, strade and fox. let's gooooo (this got long)

full tumblrina

you know her ass is on every side of tumblr too. she has a fujoshi/himejoshi weeb blog. she's got a fashion blog. she's on ED tumblr and posts traumacore edits. she's got a troubling porn blog. she's the moment!

pansexual she/her, and she does put it in every bio, thank you

lana del rey listener. she's the only one who understands her

a little "not like other girls" misogyny-core but that's only because she's intimidated by other women.

it's a trauma response. cut her some slack (she says whenever she's rightfully called out)

high aesthetic, like ren always is

might have had a bit of an e-girl phase and posted thotty cosplay pictures but got weirded out by gross men making passes at her

she dresses really well and she's small and cute which make people underestimate her a lot

be warned, she has a strap on collection that would make even the most seasoned pervert blush and she WILL use them.

oscillates wildly between total pillow princess or scary intense domtop (it's a trauma thing)

little boobs but full hips. shorter than canon ren but carrying a little more weight (she's a nerd who never leaves her room, her ass is not at the gym)

she doesn't shave (on account of the beastkin thing) but keeps stuff (bush…) trimmed. very neat and tidy and takes foreverrrrr in the bathroom cus of it

has a feminine preference as always, mostly because she'd be too intimidated to top a masc mc (unless they were really meek and mild. she'd go after them like catnip…foxnip)

you know she's got the problematic fauxcest kinks. would be full on "let's play sisters" with a fem mc. absolute girlfreak that she is (derogatory)

watches soooooooo so much porn and has burned out like two cheap hitachi wand dupes from masturbating so much when she's in heat

that's when she'll go pillow princess and just beg someone to fuck her (not like she has many choices though :/)

#ren hana #ren btd #ren x mc #ren x reader #qs #headcanons #girlfriend to death #cannibal teeth #i wanna write the girls...sigh

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daechwitatamic · 11 months

Text

3. Libration || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 3: Libration

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, drinking, angst, kissing, implied protected s*x/ kind of the immediate aftermath to it, TIME JUMPS, boners lol, nip stim, groping, fingering, explicit protected s*x, multiple orgasms (f. receiving), dom reader but barely, reader on top WC: 14k

Part 3: Libration

Libration: (noun) A slight tilting of the Moon over time that brings parts of the Moon that are normally obscured into view

For his entire life, Seokjin’s fingers had begged to reach for you. If he was practiced at anything, a master of any skill, it was holding them still, tamping them down, busying them with game controls or swiping a screen to stop them on their pilgrimage towards yours.

He’d almost told you so many times. Without fail, every single time, he’d chicken out.

Like the morning his dad had driven him to campus for the first time, the car loaded up with everything he wanted to bring along. It was one of those late summer days, the whole season setting like the sun. It felt like endings. Seokjin had been really in his feelings about it, to be honest.

He’d leaned against the car, arms crossed, as you stood staring back at him. Waiting. Waiting to say goodbye.

Your whole lives, you’d never asked him for anything, just stayed constant and steady in his life. Not a lot of things felt steady in his life - hadn’t since he’d lost his mom back when Jungkook was a baby. But you did. You were unwavering, just there when he needed calm, consistency, dependability. Seokjin usually leaned into the chaos of his life, of his siblings, of his sometimes noisy and goofy personality. But when he needed it - the quiet retreat - somehow he always pictured you. Like you were his quiet place.

You were standing there, waiting for something before he left this small town for bigger and better things, and he was stalling.

What could he say to you as a goodbye?

Would don’t forget me make him seem too pathetic? God, yeah, it sounded like he was dying. He was a nineteen year old moving away to college, not the ghost of a murder victim whispering avenge me into the wind. For fuck’s sake.

Come visit? That was less dramatic - more direct. It said what he wanted… for you to stay in his life, stay in his universe. That was good, that would work.

He was just working up the courage to say it when you seemed to give up on him, shifting your weight and asking, “See you at Christmas?”

Disgusted with himself, he’d nodded mutely. You’re an idiot, Seokjin, he thought, watching you disappear into his father’s house.

Another opportunity wasted. Another trip around the sun - without you - stuttering to a start.

–

It was hard to be around you. Maybe that was pitiful but it was Seokjin’s truth.

Still, every time he came home from university and saw you again, it always felt the same. It surprised him every time, caught him off-guard. It felt like getting slammed with damn, I’m happy to see you again, damn, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed you, damn, you look good these days.

And that’s where it crashed to a halt. It was a dead-end, just like the one you both grew up on. He couldn’t go there. Minji would destroy his life if he got entangled with her best friend, he was sure of it. Plus, you were in different cities for college, living separate lives. Your future paths weren’t meant to intersect. It just didn’t make sense to start something that could just end up ruining things between everyone, including you and Minji’s friendship.

So, at your parents’ Christmas Eve dinner his senior year, when he was twenty-one and you were nineteen, he stayed holed up in the living room with Jungkook, avoiding you entirely. He stood at the side of the room, bored and wishing he were home with a game instead of avoiding eye contact with all the real adults around him. He sent Jungkook into the kitchen to get him a beer, knowing if he went in there himself he’d stay. Nothing good could come of it.

He still found himself staring at you through the doorway as you sat next to his sister in the kitchen, your laugh bouncing out to him. He wanted so badly to join you, to be the one making you laugh as he had almost his whole life.

You were a supernova, exploding before his eyes, but he couldn’t look away. When you’d looked up and caught him staring, he felt himself flush from head to toe.

He had to stay away from you; it was the only way to stay sane.

The next morning he’d woken early, dehydration toying with him, sending him scavenging to the kitchen in search of water, or something caffeinated.

The universe laughed at him long and loud, and placed you in his kitchen, in thin, pink and grey pajamas that barely covered your ass, did nothing to hide your tits. You’d crossed your arms self-consciously, and Seokjin hurried to face the sink, filling the kettle as a distraction, so that you wouldn’t spot his semi.

He could feel your eyes on him, the air between you rife with tension, and he dreaded whatever it was you were going to say, or ask him - dreaded the moment he’d have to turn around to answer you to avoid looking rude.

Instead, you spared him, vanishing back down the hallway as silently as you’d come. He’d heaved a sigh, running a palm down his hardening dick for relief, and headed for the bathroom. It was cold shower o’clock, apparently.

–

He graduated the following May, moved back home. Prepared resumes and cover letters and started sending them out by the dozens. Prayed someone, anyone, would hire him.

His dad threw him a graduation party, even though Seokjin told him over and over again that he didn’t want or need it. The house full of people - all there to see him, to ask him what his plans were when he had none - stressed him out.

He’d stuck to Jungkook all day, his safety blanket. It shouldn’t be like that - Jungkook was the baby, and an introvert, too. But having Jungkook as a buffer helped Jin feel less looked at, helped keep his neck from flushing deep red all day long. And Jungkook was a good brother - he understood, without them even talking about it. He stayed close, talked to all the relatives cheerfully, bunny nose scrunching as he smiled. Not like Minji, terrible sister, who abandoned him to die with all the aunts and uncles and cousins, disappearing into the house.

Even with the Jungkook buffer, he could only take so much. By nine o’clock, as the sky darkened slowly, the blues leaking away and turning inkier, his social battery was shot. A lot of the attendees had said their goodbyes by then, and he felt like it was safe for him to slip away.

He retreated to his own room, flopping onto his bed and pulling up a webtoon that had updated the day before. He’d been saving it for a time of need. Like now.

He wasn’t sure how he got clued into your presence in the hallway - you hadn’t made any noise. But he’d spotted you, called your name. His heart raced with possibility when you tentatively stepped into the dark of his room.

When you asked - voice small, unsure - if you could join him, he’d gone stupid, hadn’t even been able to think of the word “yes”. He’d had to answer by moving over to make room for you, hoping you’d understand.

You laying next to him, even with the space between you, felt amazing. Seokjin scrolled the webtoon every time you said “okay,” but he didn’t read a word of it. All he could focus on was stopping the words from tumbling from his mouth, stopping himself from throwing his phone across the room and rolling to cover your body with his own.

He kept it in check until he heard your breathing deepen. He glanced down to confirm - you’d fallen asleep. He clicked his phone screen off, his arms aching from holding it aloft for so long. Then he lay there, taking in the silence, watching your face as you dreamed. Ever so softly, he’d reached out a tentative finger and brushed it along your cheek. He had let himself touch you so few times, even in small, innocent ways. This felt like a rich indulgence, like the treat of all treats.

Smiling, chest feeling so full something might crack, he’d closed his eyes, eventually falling asleep by matching his breathing to yours, inhale to inhale, exhale to exhale.

He woke up sometime before dawn, jumping in his sleep. Something had alarmed him, told his brain there was danger. It was still very dark in his room, the only light coming from under his door from the hallway. You’d turned away from him in your sleep, your feet resting lightly on his shins, your legs curled.

Seokjin smiled, reached to brush your hair away from your face. When you didn’t stir, he got comfortable again, rolling to face your back, gingerly reaching an arm over you and letting his hand rest on the mattress near your stomach. In your sleep, you pressed back against him, shuffling into his embrace, then stilling again. He fell back to sleep breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

When he woke up for real, long after sunrise, you were gone, his bed empty. He checked his phone almost frantically, but you hadn’t texted.

He spent all day agonizing over it - should he reach out? Did he need to apologize? Were you freaking out, did you need him to tell you to breathe, that it was okay? But in the end, he said nothing, afraid anything he sent would just make things worse.

–

Jin spent the eve of his twenty-third birthday at a bar. You and Minji (and Jungkook, that year) were away at school for a few more weeks before winter break would begin. It was loud and crowded, the walls adorned with street signs and sardonic posters, neon beer signs, a few backlit clocks that all read different times. He threw back shots, paid for none of them as the birthday boy, surrounded by friends from college and home.

His phone buzzed at midnight on the dot, as the friends around him cheered and pounded him on the back. When he saw your name on his screen, everyone around him fell away, like they didn’t even exist. Ignored everyone around him, sat and blatantly texted you back, unashamed to be neglecting his own celebration.

Getting baja blasted with your sister, you’d sent him, and he had laughed out loud at the bar, pressing fingers to his eyes as if he could erase the mental picture, shoulders still shaking.

“What’s wrong?” someone asked him, peering over his shoulder.

“Yah,” he’d said, still laughing. “Baja blasted, is that what the kids are calling it these days? Am I that old, already, one minute into my twenty-third year?”

They’d laughed, reading the text, ribbing him about Minji’s delinquent college behavior. One of his friends, a girl with shoulder-length dark red hair, had sent him a sideways look. “This girl is texting you at midnight for your birthday, huh?” she’d asked, lips pursing with amusement. “You know what that means.”

“What does that mean?” Jin echoed, turning to face her, and her smile had grown, a gotcha.

“The only time I’ve ever done that in my life,” she told him, “is for my best friend, or for my boyfriends.”

They’d teased him about his red ears for the next hour and a half.

–

Back to avoiding, back to trying to bury it deep down. Back to failing miserably.

You and Minji lounged in the backyard, your conversation floating in low murmurs up through the open windows as Seokjin sat at the kitchen table, scrolling on his phone.

He heard only snippets - I broke up with that guy, I just wasn’t feeling it.

Immediately interested, he rose, drifting towards the open kitchen window, ears perked.

“No one sticks,” Minji said. “I worry about you.”

“None of them were right,” you told her. “Someone will be.”

“How will you know when it’s right?”

And then the door slammed open, causing Seokjin to jump in his skin.

You’d been pissed, eyes narrowed, voice tight as you accused him of listening in. But Seokjin could only think about what he’d heard, how he’d wondered the same thing over these years.

Time to stop chickening out. “How come no one sticks?” he asked.

“What?”

He spoke slowly, deliberately. “Why haven’t any of the guys you’ve dated lasted?”

He needed to know. He needed to know - what was the reason? Were you both wasting time, revolving idly in place? Could it be possible that you, like him, hadn’t been willing to give someone else a chance if it meant jeopardizing this, even if “this” was practically nothing?

“What am I supposed to say to that? Jin, what do I say to that?” You’d looked absolutely shattered, and he couldn’t help but step closer, reach for your hand. It was cool in his, and he felt like he was holding something fragile - like his touch could cause it to crumble into dust if he wasn’t gentle enough.

Say you want me, he wanted to say.

Maybe you would have.

But Minji - terrible sister - had ruined his life, coming through the kitchen door, already talking at the top of her lungs. Jin had made his escape as soon as he could, vanishing down the hallway towards his room.

He moved out - far away, an airplane ride away to a new skyline and a new job - six months later.

–

Twenty-six hadn’t started great for Seokjin. Normally he was a fan of having his birthday in December, during the start of the Christmas season. When he was a kid, it had felt like all the lights and decorations were a bit for him. But since moving to his new city three years prior, working his new job, the holidays were more of a hassle. Amazing how airports can ruin a good thing.

Case in point - his flight got delayed because of a snowstorm. Only by two hours, and he didn’t have to make a connection, so all things considered it wasn’t the end of the world. But he did miss Christmas Eve dinner at your parents’ house.

He’d called Minji from the airport after he landed, as he waited at baggage claim.

“Come anyway,” she’d begged him. “We never see you. Y/N’s parents have asked about you a hundred and fifty times.”

In retrospect, it might have been nice if Minji had mentioned that you had a boyfriend with you. Just as a little heads up. But Minji was a terrible sister. Or maybe the problem was that she had no idea Seokjin would even care.

Either way, it had ended like this.

His taxi had pulled up outside his dad’s house. He’d dragged his suitcase up the walk and through the front door, leaving it unceremoniously next to the couch to wait for him. He’d checked his hair in the decorative mirror near the front door and slipped back outside, heading to the brightly lit house across the street.

He’d shaken his hands as he walked, trying to get the nerves to fly from his fingers. It’s like they knew you were close.

He’d let himself into your parents’ house, instrumental Christmas music and loud conversations hitting him the second the door opened an inch.

Minji had cried, “Jinnie!” and he’d looked up from taking his boots off. His eyes had found you immediately, near the side of the crowded room. You were leaning comfortably against a man.

A man. A man who took one look at Seokjin, then down at your face, and then reached an arm around your waist. He pulled you in, making you hop a little as you were pulled off-balance.

Seokjin’s stomach had twisted, and he’d felt almost like he would be sick, like he was suddenly hungover without drinking a drop.

He’d had to pull it together. He’d stepped inside, accepting Minji’s enthusiastic hug. Terrible sister, trying to hug him when he was having a meltdown. He’d given you a quick one-arm almost-hug, fingers hovering over your shoulder, not even daring to touch you. He’d smiled wide when you’d introduced “my boyfriend, Daniel”, shook the guy’s hand and tried not to squeeze it too aggressively.

Boyfriend. He really did want to throw up. When he’d asked you why no one stuck, he hadn’t thought you’d take it as a dare.

He’d extracted himself from the group and went to find his dad and your parents, to say hello. Then he’d hidden with Jungkook for the rest of the night. History repeats itself, and all that.

It was a little funny, in hindsight. He’d been nearly sick over the boyfriend. But he’d met Chelsea less than two months later.

–

He’d met Chelsea at work when he was twenty-six. She was contracted by the company for a job, short-term - not a coworker. She was pretty, competent. Seokjin had felt weird, for a second, when he caught himself watching her walk away from his desk one morning, her ponytail swinging behind her. But then he’d pictured Daniel’s arm around your waist at Christmas.

What are you doing? he’d asked himself. All the years he’d spent just outside your reach seemed to hover before him like a planetary alignment. Where had it gotten either of you? Maybe you were the smarter one, the braver one. He was thinking of the time he’d asked why none of your boyfriends lasted - but at least you were out there trying. He couldn’t really say the same thing. He’d had his fun through college, certainly. But he’d known every time that his heart wasn’t in it.

Maybe it was time to try.

He’d caught her in the break room on her last day of the project. She’d blushed when he asked her out, her smile more surprised than anything else. Their first date had gone well. Their third date had gone even better.

He didn’t go home that summer. Things with Chelsea fell into place - pieces clicking together the way they were supposed to in adult relationships. They’d agreed to start being exclusive. She’d called him her boyfriend on the phone with her best friend Lara, lounging on his couch one afternoon, and he’d looked up from the game he was playing, fingers frozen on the controls, eyes wide.

After she’d hung up, she’d asked, “Was that not okay? We’ve been exclusive for months, it just… felt kind of natural.”

“No,” he’d assured her, reaching out and placing a hand on her knee. She’d covered it with her own, looking at him through her lashes, waiting for his answer. “It was okay. I was just surprised.”

She’d moved in before the leaves started to turn, half of his closet suddenly full of blouses and skirts, oat milk in his fridge where there used to be beer bottles, tampon boxes under his sink where there used to be cleaning supplies.

Warm smiles when he’d make a stupid pun. Slender fingers in his during evening walks. Breathy whispers when they were tangled together in the dark.

Demands of “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” after long meetings at work. Silence from the other side of the couch over a slight he couldn’t even name. The scratchy material of the couch cushions after a night ejected from his own bed.

The leaves turned. Fell. Blew away.

Soft murmurs of concern when he’d tell about a bad day. Bursting into laughter after saying the same thing at the same time, following it with, “We’re turning into each other.” Coming home to find his favorite snacks in the cabinets, his laundry folded on the end of the bed.

A hollow feeling in the pit of Seokjin’s stomach the first time she whispered, “I think I’m in love with you.”

The taste of battery acid on his tongue when he lied to her face and told her he was, too.

They broke up three days before Christmas. It was too late to get a flight.

Seokjin spent the holidays alone.

Twenty-seven sucked worse than twenty-six.

She showed up three weeks into January, peering up at him through red-rimmed eyes. “Do you th-think…” she’d asked, voice wavering, after pouring out apology after apology, “maybe we could try again?”

Maybe I can love her, he’d thought. He’d hoped.

They broke up again before the end of February. Got back together in April after Seokjin called her, drunk and lonely. Broke up again in July after she smashed one of his favorite coffee mugs on the kitchen floor and screamed at him that he was a liar. Made up in September and somehow managed to hang on through the fall.

The night of Seokjin’s twenty-eighth birthday, he couldn’t sleep. He had lain there, awake in the dark, listening to her breathing beside him, slow and even.

He’d reached out and smoothed her hair down, run a hand down her arm. She’d wiggled into his touch, her breathing taking a moment to even out again.

Feel something, he’d begged himself, suddenly on the verge of frustrated, furious tears. Feel something for her. Why couldn’t he? What was wrong with him? Was he broken, doomed? Was this all he’d get out of life - this push and pull of ocean tides, sometimes drowning and other times left to cook in the sun? Her need for his love like a black hole, pulling and pulling, taking and taking?

“I think we should take a break,” he’d told her in the morning, before his alarm even went off. “I think I need some time to figure things out.”

“Figure out what?” she’d asked, tears already rolling down her cheeks. “I thought we were fine, Seokjin. I thought this time we were fine.”

“Let’s talk after the holidays,” he’d suggested. “I’ll go spend some time with my dad and my siblings… let’s see how we feel.”

“See how we feel?” she’d echoed hollowly. “I know how I feel. You’re the giant question mark here.”

It had felt less like a slap and more like a fact. Seokjin couldn’t even fault her for it when it was so true.

So, at twenty-eight, he’d gone home for Christmas, alone, on a “break”.

When you showed up on New Year’s Eve, it felt like you were sent specifically to torture him. To test him.

And he had really, spectacularly flunked the test.

But seeing you again, for the first time in two years, had given him every right answer. You’d stood next to Minji, helping her slice lemons, and Seokjin had sat at the kitchen table nursing a beer and listening to you two rib each other. He’d felt it - peace, calm, his quiet place. That happiness that rose up in him every time you returned to his life, or he returned to yours. That overwhelming something that had always been there, hovering in the background, whenever he was around you. The desire to make you laugh, to find little ways to touch you, the need to feel your eyes on him now.

It was overwhelming. It was too much. It was too many feelings, all at once.

He’d never felt this for Chelsea. Not even a fraction of it. But he’d felt like this about you his whole life and had never had something to hold up next to it for comparison.

He loved you. That was the answer.

He’d tried to keep his distance anyway that night - for all the old reasons. Minji. Different lives in different cities. His uncertainty about how you felt.

And Chelsea, blowing up his phone in real time, asking him when he was flying home and if she could see him right away when he did.

He left her on read. He followed you out on the back deck. He’d called you beautiful and watched the last pane of glass keeping you from him shatter into pieces and fall to the ground, leaving his feet bloody and his heart singing as he finally, finally got to hold you in his arms the right way, as he’d finally, finally gotten to press his mouth to yours, taste you, feel you, have you.

Everything was beyond his wildest fantasies - and he’d imagined this plenty over the last seven years. Every bit of skin he got to slide his fingers over, every sigh and gasp you made against his mouth, the feel of your slick heat wrapped around his fingers, the feel of your spasming cunt milking every last drop from him. The look in your eyes as he set you down again, made sure your legs were steady - like he’d hung the moon for you.

Guilt and nausea rocked through him. Sure, they were on a break, but Chelsea was waiting for an answer from him, was at that exact moment trying to talk to him about their relationship. His phone burned a hole in his pocket as it buzzed incessantly against his still-quivering thigh. He should have waited - he should have handled his shit first. You deserved better.

You deserved better than every part of this.

Outside, hurried, in the freezing cold, against the side of his house? That was wrong. You should have had a first time together where he could take his time, worship every part of you, relax and communicate about what you like.

And in secret? Minji was still inside, a problem unsolved. If this was starting, if Seokjin was getting his chance with you, then he needed to deal with that problem first. Minji needed to be set straight. And, at the same time, she deserved to find out the right way, too.

And… what did you want? He should have talked to you, he should have told you he liked you before sleeping with you, he should have asked what you wanted this to be before either of you could get their feelings twisted.

He’d fucked this up. He’d done it all wrong. You deserved so much better than whatever childish bullshit this situation was. He needed to deal with Chelsea. He needed to tell Minji that his business was his business. He needed to talk to you about your feelings.

But one problem at a time. Starting right then.

“You probably shouldn’t come in right after me,” he’d told you, and hurried away, already fishing his phone from his pocket. Inside, he’d slipped into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He’d dialed Chelsea’s number before the latch even clicked.

“Jin?” she’d answered, sounding tearful already. He felt that squeeze of guilt again - she’d been home, crying, wanting to work it out with him. And he’d been buried in you. What kind of asshole does that? “Where are you?”

“My dad’s house, like I said I’d be,” he’d said, more coldly than he’d meant. He took a breath, pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t her fault - none of it was. It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t love her, it wasn’t her fault she wasn’t you, it wasn’t her fault he’d been too hasty and messed things up with you. “Listen. I know we said we’d talk when I came home but… a few days isn’t going to make the difference. I’m done, Chels. I’m sorry. I’m done for real, this time.”

Her silence stretched so long that Seokjin pulled the phone away from his face to check the screen, to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.

Finally, after a shuddering breath, she’d managed, “But why?”

Seokjin had pressed his cool knuckles to his burning forehead and closed his eyes. “Because. If I was going to love you, I’d know by now. I know how it should feel and it just… doesn’t. It just doesn’t.”

When he’d returned to the party, he’d scanned the rooms at a clip, eyes roving the crowd for your familiar form. He passed through the kitchen, the living room, even tried Minji’s room and the basement. You were nowhere to be found.

He typed over a dozen texts to you - where did you go, are you okay, come talk to me, did you leave, i have something i need to tell you. He deleted all of them. His thumb hovered over your picture in his contacts, as he tried to imagine what he’d say if you actually answered.

In the end, he fell asleep at the kitchen table, his phone in his hand. He woke up late, hungover, unprepared for his flight. He’d barely made it - Mr. Kim had sped the whole way to the airport, and they’d been calling his name over the loudspeaker when Seokjin jogged up to his gate.

He checked his phone desperately when the plane landed, hoping to see your name on his screen.

No luck.

Eventually, enough time passed that Seokjin felt… well, stupid even bringing it up. If you’d wanted to talk about it, you could have, right? It must have been just a hook-up to you, just a bit of fun at a party.

Seokjin lied to himself, told himself it didn’t matter, told himself he didn’t care. He spent the night of a full moon boxing up Chelsea’s shit and sent it in the mail.

–

It’s something Seokjin tries hard to hide about himself. He laughs loud, makes dumb jokes, wrestles Jungkook in public, tries to control the narrative. Tries to keep anyone from looking too closely.

He doesn’t want them to know he’s so afraid, that his fear is often the boss of him.

It’s fear that kept him from calling you after that night, fear that kept him from reaching out when he was twenty-one and you fell asleep in his bed, fear that kept him from telling you the truth when he was eighteen and graduating high school.

He’d sat at the end of his dad’s driveway in the dark, his party carrying on inside without him, wishing he could run - from his future, from his life stretching out ahead of him like a thin path through a sea of fog. He wanted to hit pause, wanted to stay here, wanted everything to stay just the same. He wanted to wake up in his father’s house, bicker with Minji and Jungkook over meals, hear the familiar sound of your voice calling hello from the front door.

Instead, he was about to walk away from all of that.

“Are you scared?” you’d asked him, appearing out of the dark like a damn apparition.

Seokjin had laughed to hide how very dead-on you were. “Me?” he asked, as if it were ridiculous. As if he weren’t always scared, but doing what he was supposed to do in spite of it. “Never.”

And you had smiled at him indulgently, like you knew better. “About what? What’s the biggest thing?”

Losing you.

He doesn’t even know what bullshit answer he gave you. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the truth.

Seokjin stands in the middle of the street watching your tail lights disappear, cast in red and shadows and regret.

All that… it doesn’t matter now…

It didn’t mean anything…

I never got to tell you to your face that you’re an asshole…

You were out of your head… to make a mistake like me…

I can’t do this again… I think it’ll kill me if I do…

He doesn’t even bother to tell his family he’s going somewhere. He gets into his car, the stereo blaring to life as it connects to his phone, then takes off across town.

Towards the swanky apartments.

–

Your phone rings, and rings, and rings, and rings.

You know you could just turn it off - a normal person would just turn it off.

You’re home again, on your couch with a blanket wrapped around you, lights down low, feeling sorry for yourself. Your phone screen lights up on the coffee table before you, then goes dark as the call goes to voicemail.

Then it lights up again, rattling as it vibrates. Goes dark. Lights up again.

You snap on the ninth call.

“Oh my God, what?” you demand. “I don’t want to talk to you!”

“Which one’s yours?” Jin asks, his voice small against your ear.

“What?”

“Which apartment’s yours?”

“Fuck off, Seokjin,” you tell him firmly. “I said I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’ll start ringing doorbells,” he threatens. “I have a lot of time to spare.”

You fall silent, considering this. He would ring every doorbell in the whole damn complex if it helped him win.

“How’d you even know where to go?” you ask instead.

“You told me it was the one we used to trick-or-treat at,” he explains.

This deflates you a little bit. With a sigh, you tell him your apartment number.

“See you in a minute,” he tells you, and hangs up.

“But I don’t want to talk to you,” you whisper, defeated, at no one. It’s only moments later that he pounds on your door. Resigned, you shuffle to the door, the blanket still wrapped around you like armor.

“What do you want, Seokjin?” you ask flatly. “I told you, I can’t do this.”

“Define this,” he says, and there’s something gentle in the request.

“Make the same mistakes over and over,” you clarify. “Get nowhere. Gain nothing. Hurt.”

“You keep saying mistake,” he murmurs. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, and you take a step away when they do, knocked physically backwards by how broken he looks. “Can we talk?” he asks. “Can I come in?”

You purse your lips but step aside, letting him inside, letting the door close behind him. “We can talk,” you allow, mostly because he’d looked so devastated, and you feel guilty about it. “But you’d better keep your hands to yourself.”

You settle back down on the couch, and Jin perches at the edge of a wingback chair on the opposite side.

You look at each other silently for a minute. Then, you grumble, “You can get more comfortable than that.”

He scoots back less than an inch, looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You snap - again. You’re so on edge you think you might shatter. “You wanted to talk, so what are you looking at me for? Talk!”

He looks at his hands, then back at you. “I apologized without explaining,” he says slowly. “But I think you really need both.”

“You explained plenty,” you say, biting the words off before they can hurt you. “You were in a bad place -.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he cuts you off firmly. “What I meant is - I mean - that wasn’t the right way to say it. I didn’t mean… I wasn’t saying my head wasn’t in the right place. I wasn’t trying to imply that I was… fucked up, or upset, or anything like that. I made the choices I made with you that night because I wanted to, and I don’t regret them.”

You look at him, frozen. You feel too frozen to even breathe. “...Then?”

“It’s killing me,” he says, and has to stop and clear his throat as his voice breaks. He heaves a heavy breath and tries again. You wait him out, heart thudding, palms sweating. “It’s killing me to hear you keep calling it a mistake. Because it wasn’t, to me.”

All you can do is stare. You feel like you understand nothing.

“But,” you try. “What? You never - we didn’t talk, after? After - after - you just left, you disappeared and left me outside in the dark, alone.”

You didn’t mean the words to come out like an accusation, but they hit Seokjin like a slap. You watch him actually recoil, grimacing like he feels the sting across his cheek.

You watch as a cloud of shame settles over his features.

“I know I messed it up,” he admits. “I knew it that night. I should have talked to you first. But I… at the time, I felt like I had… loose ends that I needed to tie up first.”

Your eyes narrow, suspicious. “Loose ends like what?”

His eyes drop to the floor and he whispers, “I had to break up with my ex-girlfriend.”

“Kim Seokjin!” you exclaim in horror, a hand coming to cover your mouth. “Did you cheat on somebody with me?”

“No, no!” he says quickly, hands coming up defensively. “I promise, it wasn’t like that. My ex and I… we had agreed to take a break before I came home that Christmas. But I still felt like… I felt like I did something really wrong. And then I didn’t want to talk to you about it - about what’s next or anything - until I’d told her that I was out… really out.”

“I don’t understand,” you tell him. Your head is spinning, trying desperately to make sense of what he’s telling you.

Seokjin sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t have just walked away from you,” he says, and there’s something almost pleading in his voice - just barely. “I thought I could go deal with her and then talk to you - but you were gone.”

“You could have called. You could have texted. You could have walked the twenty feet across the fucking street, Seokjin -.”

“I know!” he bursts out, leaning forward, his eyes on your face, desperate. “I know I should have! I was just - I wasn’t thinking straight, I was spiraling -.”

“Sure,” you interrupt flatly. “Toeing the line with infidelity will do that to a person -.”

“It wasn’t from that,” he snaps. He stands, walks to your balcony door, seems to stare down his own reflection. His ears are red - frustration, this time.

When he turns around, he’s calmer again. “It wasn’t because of that,” he repeats more quietly. “It was because you walked into my dad’s house that night and I was suddenly face-to-face with the fact that for the first time in my life, I had a name for what I feel for you.”

Silence crashes between you. You find yourself also standing, the blanket you were wrapped in falling half on the couch and half on the floor. You stare at him wildly, hands shaking at your sides. It takes everything in you to not just utter, “Huh?”

Instead, you whisper, “I think I need you to explain.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation, stalks closer to you, looms over you. “I love you,” he says plainly, and the room swings around you. “I think I always have - but I didn’t know until that night. And I didn’t want to tell you until I’d dealt with her.

“I know I messed everything up that night,” he says, eyebrows furrowed, “and I’m sorry.”

“Seokjin,” you manage, the word coming out like a gasp. “You what?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

You shake your head vehemently. “Before that.”

He steps closer, close enough to step on the blanket you’d dropped, close enough that you can feel his warmth, close enough that you could touch him if you were stupid enough to -

“I love you,” he murmurs, hovering ever closer. The words sound musical dripping from his mouth.

“How did you not know until then?” you whisper, looking up at him. “I knew when I was sixteen.”

He lets out a breath like a laugh. Your hand hesitates somewhere near his stomach. “I’m an idiot,” he explains. Then, voice deepening, he asks, “Do I still have to keep my hands to myself?”

“You’d better not,” you manage to say, and then you can’t say anything because he’s kissing you firmly, one hand on your face and the other pressing you closer by the small of your back.

It feels different to kiss him now than the first two times. The first time, two years ago, had been desperate, fast and frantic from the onset. Tonight, an hour ago, it had been laced with regret. This time feels somehow freeing. It feels like flying.

You loop your arms around his neck and try to lift yourself closer, pressing your body against his. He runs a hand down the back of your head, skims it down your spine, grips you by the waist and pulls you in tight with a deep but barely audible grunt.

You bring your hands to cup his face, pulling away from the heated kiss. “You don’t have a sort-of girlfriend I should know about this time, right?”

He huffs a laugh, nose bumping yours as he tries to get your mouth back. “Shut up,” he laughs, starting to walk you backwards towards your open bedroom door, his clever fingers finding the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head as you walk. You do the same, tugging his t-shirt free and tossing it on your bedroom floor.

He drinks in the sight of you, eyes burning paths along every newly bared inch of skin. His hands skim up your stomach, glide over your ribs, caress your shoulders, before finding the clasp of your bra. His eyes find yours, silently asking.

You give him a nod, your own hands tracing the lightly defined muscles along his stomach, making him shiver. He pinches the clasp, guides the straps down your goosebump covered arms, looks at you with nothing less than wonder. Then, gently, he covers your tits with both large hands, thumbs stroking the soft skin they find before moving to lightly roll each nipple once.

You close your eyes and keen a little, just a tiny noise, and let him explore you. You hadn’t taken off your top last time - it had been so quick, desperate.

But thinking about last time has you needy as you remember just how fucking good Jin’s cock had felt, how perfect the stretch was, how every drag of him made your eyes roll back. You kiss him again, feverish, as he continues to toy with you. A tiny part of you thrills at the forbidden aspect of this - this is Jin with his hand on your tit, Jin tugging you closer by your waistband, Jin pressing himself hot and hard against your leggings, Jin groaning into your mouth when you pop the button on his jeans and slip your hand into his boxers, stroking him to full length. You hadn’t touched him, last time – not like this. He’s hot and heavy and thick, velvet soft against your palm as you work him base to tip again and again, delighting in the low grunts and catches in his breath your fingers elicit.

You finally whine, throbbing and tingling and desperate for more, and he laughs against your neck and hooks his thumbs under your waistband and peels off your leggings, using the opportunity to back you up until you’re sitting on your bed with a bounce. He lets his own jeans drop to the floor and crawls over you; your hands come to his jaw as he kisses you ferociously, like he can’t think of anything else - not food, not water, not air - just your mouth.

Then he moves his mouth to your neck, sucking lightly and then soothing over the spots with gentle kisses. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he whispers. “It feels kind of surreal.”

“What about -,” you breathe.

“Last time doesn’t count,” he growls, and slides his hand over your mound, fingers skimming over your clothed clit and pressing your panties against your opening. You squirm against him, trying to increase the pressure, wanting him inside more than you want anything.

“Please,” you murmur.

“Please what?” he asks, pushing himself up to look down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Need more,” you gasp, still pushing back against his fingers. Even over your panties, they slide along your slickness. “Need to feel you.”

All his breath leaves him in a rush when you say this, and you lift up a little to help him slide your panties down your legs. You try to reach for him, fingers glancing along the fabric of his boxers, but your brain loses all sense of purpose as Seokjin sinks two fingers into you, pumping them casually a few times before crooking them and rubbing them firmly against your front wall.

The sound you make comes from deep within you, a low groan echoing around you as your eyes flutter closed.

He’s lying alongside you and you bury your face in his chest as he works you open. Sounds fall from your mouth, sharp and desperate, as the pressure in your lower belly tightens and tightens, as sparks flash behind your eyelids, as your toes curl and feet press into the mattress frantically. You can feel him pressing insistently against your leg as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, and it’s this fact that sends you spiraling, uttering his name through gritted teeth as every muscle goes impossibly tight.

He kisses you sweetly as you come down from it, slowly pulling his fingers from you and reaching around to grab a handful of your ass as the kiss naturally deepens, as he falls into it, head first.

You’re still half floating when he removes himself, and you hear the shuffle of fabric as he digs through his pants, and then a telltale thump as he tosses his wallet back into the clothing pile. He returns, kisses you again, tweaking a nipple and eliciting a whine from you.

“You good?” he breathes, lips barely centimeters from yours.

“‘M good,” you manage, gripping his forearms in preparation for the stretch, for the burn, for the deluge of sensation.

He pushes into you slowly, sheathing himself completely with a deep groan from within his chest.

“You feel so good,” he tells you, punctuating this with a quick nip on your jaw, before starting to roll his hips. You moan once, loud, head flopping back as his cock drags against your already-sensitive, still-fluttering walls.

Everything’s different this time. It feels like leisure, it feels like luxury - to get to reach up and kiss him, his lips firm and grounding as the slide of him sends you floating. Luxury, to get to run your hands along the bare skin of his arms, shoulders, and back. Luxury to dig your nails in just a little bit when his angle shifts, to hear his breathing hitch when you do. Luxury to lean back and meet his eyes, burning on yours, fire and love and happiness and passion swimming in them, beneath his furrowed brow, knit in concentration.

You feel so full of him, it’s like he’s touching everywhere, all of you all at once. He brushes a hand down the side of your face, so gently, then slides it under your ass to adjust the angle again.

“Fuck, oh my god,” you utter, shifting to take him even deeper. “What the fuck.”

“Good,” he whispers, slowing his pace and pushing into you purposefully, pausing each time he’s buried as far as he can be, feeling you clench around him before dragging out again, steady.

You’re temple to temple, his breath huffs and gasps near your ear. You cling to him tightly, white-knuckled as you try to take everything he gives you. You groan in mingled unison when he speeds up again, pushing himself up onto his knees and grabbing your waist as leverage, pulling you to meet every thrust.

“Oh -,” you gasp, surprised by the intensity, surprised by how quickly you can feel yourself unraveling a second time, “- god, Jin, fuck, holy shit -.”

“That’s right,” he coaxes, voice deep and honeyed, an entirely new sound to him. “Tell me. What is it, beautiful?”

“I - I can’t,” you gasp, eyes screwing shut, fingers gripping the blanket beneath you so hard that an absent part of your brain worries it’ll tear. “I’m gonna come again - Jin -.”

“Yes you can,” he soothes, and his thumb suddenly on your clit almost has you shooting off the bed, a scream caught in your throat. “Give me another one.”

The pressure is blinding, your muscles so tight that you know you’ll be sore, and though you can’t see anything but bursts of color through your tightly closed eyes, you can hear Seokjin swear fiercely before a low, wordless moan is tugged from him as he tries to hold on through your orgasm.

As you blink your way back to reality, Jin lowers his forehead to yours and doubles his pace, hips slapping your ass, uttering sounds that are increasingly desperate and broken - half-formed syllables of your name, something that might be please, ragged groans that cut off mid-way as gasps, only to begin again on his exhale. His arms cage you in and you feel yourself floating higher with him surrounding you, keeping everything else at bay.

His arms tighten around you when he comes, breathing out a loud, strangled, “ahhhhh -” as he empties himself inside you, his fingers twitching and pace faltering. He slows, his heart hammering inches from yours, then flops next to you, breathing heavily. He pats your thigh fondly, as if to say, good work, then scans the room. Finding what he was looking for - a small wastebasket under your desk - he staggers over to handle the condom before dropping heavily next to you again, eyes closed as he catches his breath.

“Seokjin,” you murmur, fingers finding his and lacing them together. “Don’t leave again. Okay? Don’t leave me, now.”

He rolls to face you, his hand coming to tug you closer, into his embrace.

“Never,” he promises, lips against your hair, his arms around your back, his heart racing yours towards a finish line neither of you can clearly see. “I swear. Never again.”

–

He does leave, a few hours later, apologizing over and over again.

“Dad’s doing pretty well during the day now,” he explains as he gets dressed gingerly. “But at night he has trouble - after sleeping he gets stiff and has trouble getting up without some help. Or, his ice bag melts and he can’t get downstairs to change it out. I texted him that I’d be back, but that was hours ago.”

“Go,” you tell him. “I understand.”

You do - of course you do. But it doesn’t stop you from being a little nervous when he slips out your front door, leaving you alone in the silence of your apartment. You’re too hyped up to sleep. You strip the bed, throwing the sheets in a hamper and putting on new ones, and go to shower. When you emerge, warm and finally sleepy, you get into bed and turn off your lamp, grabbing your phone to scroll until your eyes are heavy.

[12:14 AM] Jin 😎: home. dad’s fine. let’s talk tmrw?

You smile, typing an answer, illuminated by your phone screen.

[12:36 AM] You: glad to hear it. yeah, sounds good

You’re not sure how to leave it. Would a heart be too much? He’d said he loved you… but what is this now? Where do you go from here? What are the boundaries, what are the rules?

You fall asleep without answers.

In the morning, your alarm ringing feels like your own personal torture in hell. You’re sore from head to toe, like you knew you would be. You take a longer, hotter shower than normal, hoping the hot water will soothe your aching muscles. It helps, but only a little.

You’re absent-minded at work all morning, messing up multiple times and yawning so loudly that Dale actually asks you if you want him to go grab you some coffee from the break room.

“No,” you say sheepishly. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

Salvation comes in the form of a text message, about an hour before your lunch break.

[11:27 AM] Jin 😎: good morningggg [11:27 AM] You: i mean, barely [11:27 AM] You: it’s almost noon, sir [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: excuse you [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: some of us need our beauty sleep

You laugh out loud, Dale shooting you another look over his shoulder.

[11:28 AM] Jin 😎: come over tonight [11:29 AM] Jin 😎: i want to cook you dinner [11:29 AM] Jin 😎: my dad will be up but we can be normal… he’ll go to bed by 9 anyway [11:29 AM] You: my parents will see my car outside [11:30 AM] Jin 😎: i’ll come get you then. be there at 6?

You agree, and manage to actually do a few productive things with your afternoon, now that there’s a solid plan for later, now that you aren’t wondering if Seokjin will manage to vanish from your life for another two years.

You feel guilty for worrying about it, but you can’t help yourself. You’d meant what you’d told him last night, at your car, before he’d come to your place. Having him and losing him the first time had been earth-shattering. You couldn’t do it twice.

–

Jin picks you up right when he said he would, his car idling outside your building right at six o’clock. You slide into the passenger seat and he pulls away, music playing low through the car’s speaker system.

“How was your day?” he asks, glancing over at you.

“Couldn’t focus for shit,” you admit. “I think I pissed off my teammate.”

He chuckles. “Tomorrow’s a chance to do better.”

“Don’t distract me so much tomorrow, then.”

He grins at you, obviously not sorry in the slightest. “I distracted you? We barely talked.”

You purse your lips at him playfully. “I had a lot on my mind, and all of it’s your fault.” You say it teasingly, but he goes serious.

“Let’s talk tonight,” he suggests. “After my dad goes to bed.” He reaches out, smoothes a hand down your leg, leaves it resting on your knee.

“That’s probably a good idea,” you murmur, your eyes on his hand. You’re wondering how just that - just his hand resting on your knee - can cause goosebumps to rise up and down your arms.

When Seokjin leads you into the house, Mr. Kim is awake, watching television in the living room. He seems surprised to see you, but greets you warmly.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” he asks, more polite than what are you doing here, which is probably what he wants to ask.

“Minji’s busy tonight and I needed a hand with dinner and everything,” Seokjin lies easily, slipping his shoes off. “Y/N’s doing me a huge favor. Are you good, Dad? Do you need anything?”

“New ice pack,” you answer for him, eyeing the bag of mostly water that rests on Mr. Kim’s propped-up knee. “Can I help with that?”

You change out the ice pack and rejoin Seokjin in the kitchen, where he has something simmering on the stovetop and is busy chopping something else. You sit at the table, nursing the beer he offered you, watching him work. You chat casually with him - discussing what shows you’ve been watching, gossiping about Minji’s last boyfriend, getting updates on what Jungkook is up to out west. When the meal is ready you both eat in the living room with Mr. Kim, where he peppers you with questions about your job (it’s boring), how your parents are (same ol’, same ol’), if you’re keeping Minji in line (as if anyone could).

Seokjin turns out to be right - Mr. Kim requests to go upstairs to bed before nine. Seokjin helps him up the stairs, gets him settled, and returns downstairs to find you up to your elbows in suds at the kitchen sink.

“I was going to do that,” he scolds.

You shrug. “No reason I can’t help. Dinner was delicious, by the way. I forgot how well you cook.”

“How could you forget?” he protests, moving to the fridge to get himself a beer. “I take offense to that.”

“Don’t go so long without cooking for me next time, then,” you counter playfully, wiping your hands down with a dish towel and moving to sit across the table from him.

“Live closer to my city, then,” he gives it right back.

“No, no, no,” you shake your head firmly. “You moved far. You don’t get to put that on me.”

He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. You’re tempted to crawl onto his lap and you have to squash the urge down. You’re here to talk, not to kiss.

You settle into quiet as you consider this, consider all the fears and misgivings you’d been plagued with last night and all morning.

Seokjin reaches under the table with his leg and gently kicks at your knee. “Talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s happening up there.” He points with the top of his beer bottle in the general direction of your head.

It makes you smile, in spite of everything.

You consider, for a second, playing it off. But you and Seokjin have circled each other for damn near a decade. Isn’t it time for some honesty? When will you ever have an open invitation like this again?

“I’m scared this is just going to be like before,” you admit. “Even if you don’t - I mean… even if you do everything right, the truth is you still have to get on a plane in less than two weeks. I just don’t see an ending here that isn’t you leaving me behind again.”

Jin lets out a long breath, his eyes on the table. “I should have asked you this a long time ago,” he says slowly, raising his eyes to meet your gaze again. “But… what do you want?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. You’ve never in your life, not even in your head, put words to it before. The want, the wish, it’s too much to ask for. It’s the thing you’ve spun around for your whole life, the thing whose gravitational pull keeps you in orbit, and it’s too much to look at directly.

He nudges you with his foot beneath the table again, gently. You look at your beer, condensation gathering around your fingers on the glass. He says your name softly.

“If you can’t tell me,” he points out, “then we’re really stalled out. And I don’t think that’s what either of us wants.”

It’s the encouragement you need.

“I want to be with you,” you whisper, still unable to look at him. “But I know that’s not…” Not possible. “I mean, you live so far, we both have jobs…”

He leans forward, reaching out and peeling your hand away from your glass bottle, holding your fingers tenderly. He says your name, waits until you finally look up at him.

“I’m willing to try and figure it out,” he says seriously, and you feel something inside your ribs crack and shift. Hope that you’d kept caged for your entire adult life springs to life, starts throwing itself bodily against its confines, the cracks beginning to splinter, an escape imminent.

He is? He wants that? What would that even look like? Would you be long distance? Would one of you have to move? What about Minji?

He says your name again, and you snap your eyes back up. “Let’s just…” he starts, then sighs. “I’m here for another ten days. Let’s make the most of them and see what we think closer to the end.”

It feels like delaying an execution, you think. But how do you say no? He’s offering you ten days of what you’ve always wanted - even if there’s an expiration date flashing before you, how can you possibly turn it down?

“What about Minji?” you ask, the one question you have to voice.

Across the table, his face goes tight. He withdraws his hand, picks absently at the sticker on his beer bottle. “Let’s keep her out of it until we decide what we want,” he says. Each we flies through you like lightning. “Does that seem fair? Let’s let this be about you and me, first.”

That’s fair - and it sounds good, honestly - but part of you is aware and anxious knowing this means you’ll be lying to Minji, having to hide things.

“Okay,” you say uneasily. “I guess you’re right.”

He looks over at you silently for a second. “C’mere,” he finally murmurs, scoots his chair back.

“We’ll break the chair,” you protest, even though you’re already moving, settling on his lap and reveling in the feeling of his strong arms around you, holding you closer.

“Then we break the chair,” he says easily, then kisses you deeply.

You loop your arms around his neck and turn, lifting a leg over his lap to straddle him. He holds you up by your back at first, but it isn’t long before he’s got one hand tangled in your hair and one on your ass, groaning quietly into your mouth as you grind down on the growing bulge you feel beneath you. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you had him last, but you can’t hold it back. You want him again.

He settles both hands on your waist, pulling you down harder onto his clothed erection, helping you set a rhythm as you move against him, your mouth traveling down the column of his neck.

“What if your dad wakes up?” you manage to whisper, your hands slipping under his shirt and brushing along the muscles they find there.

“He can’t get downstairs without help,” Jin answers, biting off a groan as you lift his shirt up over his head, placing it on the chair next to you. He kisses you feverishly, leaning you back against the edge of the kitchen table, which scoots a little from the force of it.

“Want you,” you murmur, and Jin tightens his hand on your ass in reply, then wraps his other arm around your back again and stands. You squeal as he lifts you, and he shushes you through a quiet laugh.

“Where are we going?” you hiss, clinging tight to him with both arms and legs as he moves through the kitchen.

“My wallet’s in my room,” he tells you. “And as much as I’d love to bend you over the kitchen table someday, I didn’t want to stop touching you long enough to go deal with that.”

Your pussy throbs at the words and you let out a disbelieving laugh. “Jesus,” you say.

“Seokjin,” he corrects.

You smack his shoulder, laughing, as he enters his darkened bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you.

“We do have to be a little quiet,” he warns you. “He can’t come down here without my help, but if he wakes up, this house isn’t super sound-proof.”

“I remember,” you say dryly, remembering being scolded dozens of times for laughing and talking too loudly with Minji on sleepovers. “I can be quiet. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I wasn’t the one screaming last night,” he growls, close to your ear. You smack his shoulder a second time and he laughs, setting you down and turning to dig through his wallet, tossing the foil packet onto his nightstand before turning his attention back to you.

“Ready now?” you ask, arching an eyebrow sassily.

He laughs again, low and disbelieving, like you’re playing a dangerous game. Another thrill runs through you. You step forward, closing the distance between you, chest to chest with him. You want to run your hands over his stomach, over his pecs, over his shoulders and down his arms. Instead, you press your fingers into his chest and push. He lets you, falling backwards onto his bed and looking up at you, eyes suddenly hooded with desire.

You pull your shirt over your head and toss it on the floor. Your bra follows, and you stand there, looking him up and down as he runs a hand over the front of his jeans, watching you eagerly.

“Jeans off,” you tell him. “Actually, scratch that - all of it off.”

He hurries to comply, radiating just happy to be here energy, and by the time you’ve pulled off your own slacks and panties he’s back to laying on his back, legs hanging off the end of the bed, one hand wrapped invitingly around the base of his dick as he pumps it languidly, his eyes on your tits.

“Condom,” you say, and his brow furrows.

“Want to touch you first,” he complains, sitting up a little.

“Condom,” you repeat firmly.

He reaches for the foil. You wait patiently, thrilling at this game, excited to see what else will unfold.

He waits, too, one side of his mouth lifted as he watches you. You crawl over him, pressing your mouth to his determinedly. He leans up into the kiss, one hand coming up to roll a nipple between thumb and forefinger before switching to the other. You groan quietly, then reach behind you to line him up. It’ll be a challenge without any stretching first and you know it, but tonight you don’t care.

You sink down on him slowly, lifting up and dropping back down in intervals to slick him up. He grits his teeth to keep quiet, large hands spanning your hips as he helps guide you.

For a long time he lets you lead, lifting up and dropping down, leaning forward so he’ll hit that spot each time, rocking back and forth when your legs need a break. He moans so prettily below you, eyes squeezed shut, it eggs you on. You slow your pace, lifting up over him until you’ve almost come off completely, then working your hips back down, clenching over him as you drop again. As you repeat this motion you hear the change in his tone almost instantly - he goes whiney, high-pitched ah - ah - ah-s falling from him until he pulls a pillow around over his face to muffle the sound.

Finally, he snaps, unable to take your torture any longer. He grips the back of your neck with one hand, holds you tightly in place with his arm across your back with the other, flattens his feet against the floor and begins to piston into you, merciless.

You cry out once before hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he continues the onslaught, those whiney sounds settling back into deep grunts of effort.

Your orgasm slams out of nowhere; you were so overcome with the sensation of him fucking in and out of you so roughly that you didn’t even feel the build-up - all the feelings muddled together in a cacophony of sparks and shudders. You wail into his neck, trying hard to keep the sound as low as you can manage, as you feel yourself tighten around him like a vice grip. He cries out, too, his pumps going erratic, and then he stills beneath you, his hands still clutching your hips for dear life.

“Shit,” he breathes finally, giving you a light tap so you’ll lift up and let him handle the mess. You roll to his side and watch him affectionately as he ties up the condom and buries it beneath some papers in his wastebasket.

“Don’t let me forget to deal with that in the morning,” he requests, flopping next to you.

“I’ll try my best,” you tell him seriously, wrapping an arm around his middle and snuggling in. He rests his arm over your back.

“Was all of that… okay?” you ask, just to be sure.

He shakes his head, lips pursing. “Hated it,” he teases.

You growl in frustration, and he laughs again, reaching to smooth down your hair. “Will you stay tonight?”

You consider this. “I don’t think I can,” you say sadly. “I have work in the morning, I’d have to get up and go back there at like four in order to shower and everything.”

He sighs heavily. “That means I have to get up and drive you back.”

“Poor baby,” you deadpan.

He nods, agreeing with this. “Do you need to go back now?” he asks, lifting his phone to eye the time. “Can I take you in a little bit?”

“Yeah,” you agree, snuggling in tighter to his side. “We can wait a little. I don’t want to move. Not yet.”

Your workday is interrupted the next morning by a flower delivery. The secretary at your office walks the vase back to your cubicle, a look between confusion and irritation on her face.

“Thanks,” you tell her hollowly, eyeing the bouquet carefully. There’s a tiny card amongst the greenery, but instead of a signature there’s simply a smiley face. The flowers are pretty - you turn the vase carefully so you can look from all sides. Not roses, but a variety of types and colors. You smile, remembering ranting to Minji in his basement as a teenager that roses were boring and overdone.

Behind you, Dale sneezes violently once, twice, three times.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I’ll take them home with me tonight.”

You text Seokjin a picture of the flowers on your desk.

[10:39 AM] You: what are you doing??? [10:39 AM] Jin 😎: trying to make up for past seokjin [10:39 AM] Jin 😎: that guy was an idiot [10:42 AM] Jin 😎: …is it working?

You smile despite yourself.

[10:42 AM] You: it’s certainly not hurting anything [10:43 AM] You: they’re really pretty [10:43 AM] You: thank you [10:44 AM] You: i’m having dinner with my parents tonight… i’ll text you when we’re done and see what you’re up to? [10:45 AM] Jin 😎: i know what i’ll be up to [10:45 AM] Jin 😎: waiting for my girl

–

You slip across the street after telling your parents goodnight. Seokjin lets you in the front door. Mr. Kim is still up, his leg on a stack of pillows on the couch. He greets you warmly and you sit and talk with them both. It isn’t long before you hear the familiar beep from outside - Minji’s car.

You look at Seokjin in alarm. You knew you’d have to play pretend in front of her eventually… you hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

“Hey!” Minji greets, coming through the front door in a tornado of sounds and bags and shoes. “What are you doing here?”

“I was at my parents’,” you say, hoping it sounds natural. “I just thought I’d come say hello for a minute.”

She narrows her eyes at you, that Minji look. Then she drops her bag on the floor and saunters towards the kitchen.

“Is there food?” she asks.

“I cooked,” Jin tells her. You shoot him a desperate save me look and follow her into the kitchen.

She busies herself in the fridge and you sit, trying to figure out how to get out there without raising her suspicions even further.

“So,” she says breezily, without even turning to look at you. “You got laid. Want to spill?”

“Minji!” you cry, horrified.

“What?” she laughs. “It must’ve been good, too. You’ve got that glow.”

Out in the living room, you hear Seokjin choke, erupting into a fit of coughing. You try to look like you don’t even notice.

“Minji,” you complain. “Don’t be gross!”

She grins at you. “Please. I’m jealous. And it’s been a long time for you. So, spill! Who’s the guy?”

Seokjin does save you, then, coming into the kitchen and swatting at Minji’s elbow. “If you’re going to be crass, could you lower your voice? Dad doesn’t need to hear all that.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, then goes back to making her plates. “I’m right though,” she grumbles, definitely at a lower volume. “Look at her. The glow doesn’t lie.”

–

The next night you spend the golden evening hours wrapped up with Jin on your couch.

“Who’s making dinner for your dad?” you ask, rolling lazily on your back and looking up at him.

“I asked Minji to handle dinner tonight,” he tells you. “I told her I was grabbing dinner with some friends.”

“I don’t love the lying,” you admit, “but this is really nice.” You sigh happily and he pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“It is nice,” he echoes, a little sadly.

You think you must both be thinking about how he’s going home in eight more days.

“Jin?”

“Hm?”

“How come you never told me?”

He shifts so he can look down at you. “What?”

“If you knew you…” Loved me. “...had feelings for me… why didn’t you say anything?”

He makes a face you can’t read; it’s cousins with a grimace but not quite the same. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he counters.

“I can actually answer that,” you tease, poking him in the ribs. He squirms, whining. “It was because I had zero inkling that you’d be interested. The first time I ever thought you could be was… that night… and then I got the idea that you weren’t into it after all.”

You look at him expectantly, as if saying, okay, your turn.

His ears are red. “You’re gonna make me say it, huh?” he asks flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“I am curious,” you murmur, running a hand up his arm.

He holds you tighter, rolling on his side to get his arms all the way around you. With you tucked safely in his embrace, he doesn’t have to look at you when he says, “I guess I was scared. The whole time.”

“Of what?” you ask, your voice muffled by his shirt.

You can feel him shrug. “Of fucking it up. Of pissing off Minji to the point it hurt your friendship. Of it not being as good as I built it up in my head. Of not being… enough to make you happy.”

“Hey,” you say sharply. “That could never be true.” You wiggle a little, sitting up a bit so you can look at him again. “Don’t put so much pressure on it,” you tell him gently. “It doesn’t need to be perfect or nothing, you know? We can just… be.”

He rests his head on yours, fingers tracing patterns on your upper arms. “I like the sound of that,” he admits.

On the coffee table, your phone rings - several long buzzes, the sound even louder in the quiet room. Jin reaches over your shoulder and picks it up, handing it to you.

“It’s my sister,” he tells you.

“Do you want to come have dinner at my dad’s?” Minji asks when you answer. “Jin went out with some friends so I’m here by myself and I am bored.”

“Oh, sorry Minji… I can’t tonight. I’m actually still at the office,” you lie, and Seokjin’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

She groans. “Fine, leave me here to suffer,” she laments.

“You’re all so dramatic,” you tell her. “Jungkook is the only normal one.” Seokjin kicks your shin gently, pretending to scowl in offense.

“Speaking of Jungkook,” Minji says, clearly perking up, “what about tomorrow night? My dad invited over his golf buddy’s whole family, and he wants all of us there to make him look good. Even Jungkook is coming.”

“I fail to see how I fit into this equation,” you tell her flatly.

She makes a loud noise of frustration, and you pull the phone away from your ear briefly. Seokjin’s eyebrows inch even higher. “It’s just gonna suck,” she whines. “I have to dress up and act like a real adult, and they’re gonna ask me questions about work and if I’m dating and I would just really appreciate it if you were there to make me feel less pathetic.”

“Because I, too, am a disgrace to adulthood?” you clarify.

She cackles. “Because we can roll our eyes at each other and talk shit about them later? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Not as nice as staying in my own home in my sweatpants,” you say, even though you already know you’ll be going. It’s a chance to spend the night with Jin, one week before he flies home again. “Your dad won’t care that he has an extra child all of a sudden?”

“Nah,” she says easily, happy that you’ve consented. “He won’t care at all. Right, Dad?”

When you hang up, Seokjin is looking at you expectantly, waiting for the explanation.

“I guess I’m attending your dad’s fancy dinner party tomorrow,” you tell him. Then, frowning, you ask, “How’s he hosting that when he can barely get around?”

Jin rolls his eyes. “You get three guesses who’s doing all the cooking, and the first two don’t count.”

You giggle. “Well,” you say happily, “now I get to see you tomorrow night, too!”

–

You are a fool. You know it the second Mr. Kim’s guests come through the front door. The Parks seem nice enough - a married couple near Mr. Kim’s age, both greying and soft-spoken. The problem is the Trojan Horse they bring with them - their daughter, Sumin. She’s around your age, pretty, and you know instantly that this dinner is a set-up.

The whole evening is unbearable - because it goes well. Seokjin, clueless, is so charming that you think even Mr. Park falls in love with him before dessert.

Around the dinner table, Mr. Kim introduces each of his children. You notice, even if no one else does, that he gives more details about Jin’s university achievements and current career than he does for Minji or Jungkook. Quite a sales pitch, actually.

You notice, even if no one else does, how Mr. and Mrs. Park cling to every word, their smiles growing when they hear that Seokjin is smart, has a respectable and stable job with solid income. You notice, even if no one else does, how Sumin toys nervously with the bangles on her wrist, looking sideways at Seokjin and blushing prettily.

Your stomach turns.

“And my daughter’s best friend,” Mr. Kim introduces you, even though no one cares, certainly not the Parks, “who grew up in this house with them. I consider her a second daughter.”

The Parks don’t let Sumin speak for herself, either - they handle the sales pitch the same way Mr. Kim had for Seokjin. Fact for fact - university background, current job, philanthropic efforts, extracurriculars. You’re tempted to text Minji, “Well, I’d HIRE her if nothing else.”

You largely tune the rest of the conversation out. You’re too busy watching how Seokjin doesn’t even look at her, keeps his eyes on his plate when they’re not on you. You exist on the edge, peripherally involved at best.

That is, until you hear Mr. Park laugh, “And what are the odds that you two would end up in the same city? Is it really so far? Yah, we ask her to come home more often and you’d think we were asking her to get a medical procedure done!”

“The flights are a bit of a hassle,” Sumin says with an apologetic smile.

“She’s right,” Jin adds, unable to help himself; he had a personal vendetta against the airline that had brought him home this time. “And there are no train lines that make sense. It is a hassle.”

“It’ll be nice for Sumin to have another good friend in the city,” Mrs. Park says with a gracious smile, nodding to Seokjin. “Many of her university friends ended up abroad for work.”

No one notices that Minji and Jungkook are taking turns making faces across the table from each other. No one notices that you’ve gone silent as the grave.

Except Seokjin, who spends all of dinner shooting you looks that you can’t decipher.

You sigh in blessed relief when they finish the round of cocktails and say their goodbyes, smiles bright, Sumin’s eyes lingering on Seokjin as she follows her parents towards the front door. You’re unsettled as you station yourself at the kitchen sink, eager for a task to keep you busy. It’s clear to you that the Parks - all three - were sold. How easy would it be for Jin to accept this path? It feels like watching someone step into the place in his life that you’d wanted for as long as you can remember, and fit perfectly. More perfectly than you, who seem to barely fit at all. It feels like watching someone else get everything you ever wanted, without even having to work for it.

Seokjin passes behind where you’re standing and goes through the kitchen door, out to the wooden porch. A minute later, Mr. Kim limps through the room, following after him. It’s not long before you can hear their voices floating through the open kitchen window.

You shouldn’t listen. Behind you, further in the house, you can hear Minji and Jungkook bickering. You grab a dish towel and start wiping down some of the plates you’ve already cleaned.

“Explain to me what the problem was,” Mr. Kim says sternly. You feel your stomach flip again.

“There wasn’t a problem,” Seokjin answers flatly.

“You were rude,” Mr. Kim admonishes.

“I wasn’t rude,” Jin counters calmly. “I’m just not interested.”

There’s a thump, like Mr. Kim has slapped the porch railing in frustration. “And why not? She’s beautiful, educated, she’s got a good personality, comes from a good family. How could you not be interested? You’re thirty, for the love of God -.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Jin says, and it makes your chest clench how icy he sounds, “but like I said… I’m not interested.”

The silence goes on so long that you think maybe they moved where you can’t hear them anymore. Then, Mr. Kim’s voice floats through the window, quieter than before.

“Is it because of her?”

“Dad -.”

“For the love of God, Seokjin, how many more years do you plan to lose?” Mr. Kim demands, his voice loud again. “When will you figure out that you’re wasting your time?”

You drop the dish towel, manage to cling to the plate you’re holding. You feel nauseated. Is that what this is? A waste of his time? Are you fools for even pretending you could try?

Minji comes up behind you, silent as a jungle cat. “What are they fighting about?” she whispers.

You push the plate into her hands blindly. “I have to go,” you say, brushing past her and heading through the house, out the front door, and across the yard.

You’re halfway to your parents’ house when you hear Seokjin yell your name behind you.

“Hey!” he shouts when you don’t stop. You keep walking, but you can hear his footsteps jog to catch you. He catches your arm, gives it a tug to whirl you around.

“What?” you demand.

“Why are you upset?” he asks, eyes scanning your face, as if he’ll find answers. “What’s wrong?”

You laugh bitterly. “Your dad is right,” you say flatly. “You’re wasting your time. I’ve wasted your time for almost ten fucking years. What are we doing? Where is this going? In six days you’re getting on a plane again and we’ll be right where we were before. You’ve got a great option right in front of you - the least selfish choice for me here is to let you take it. The least selfish thing for me to do is to let you go, let you move on.”

You’re not sure when in this little speech you started crying; you aren’t even aware that it’s happening until Seokjin’s thumbs brush your cheeks and then swipe once more at your waterline, flicking away a fresh wave of tears.

He looks so confused that you almost feel sorry for him. “What?” he asks. “Y/N, I’m obviously not interested in Sumin.”

“Why not?” you shoot back, anger rising - not at him, you don’t think. “Why not be interested in her? She’s perfect - gorgeous, more educated than me, from a richer family. God, she even lives in your city!” You sniff roughly, steeling yourself, feeling something inside you harden like cooling lava into rock. “You should call her,” you tell him firmly. “She’s the better option for you.”

“Why are you talking like this is ending?” he asks, his voice a whisper. “We’re not ending, we’re just starting.”

“I don’t know,” you cry, feeling stupid and a little like you're overreacting, but now that you’ve started you can’t stop. “Why are you picking the harder option? Why choose this? What happy ending can we possibly have?”

“Pick,” he repeats, putting a bit of a laugh into the word. “Who picked? I fell in love with you. There’s no choice about it. You’re the one I want. You’re the one I love. That’s all there is to it.”

This makes you cry harder, and he pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. You bury your face in his shirt, let yourself be selfish for just one more minute.

It’s there, under the streetlight, hiding in Jin’s solid embrace, that Minji finds you.

She steps into the circle of orange glow that the streetlight creates, appearing out of the darkness without a sound. You and Jin both freeze, caught, no time to leap apart. When she speaks, you expect the sound to echo loudly in the quiet. Instead, her voice comes out hushed and shaking as she asks, “What… is going on here?”

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oop!!!!!!!!!! >:) we have officially reached the point of the outline that read "Minji becomes the Problem" hehehe

thank you so so so much for reading!!!! Part 4: Perilune will post next Friday, June 23rd.

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