#How Your Ex Boyfriend Back Jolting Cool Tips
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Our First Time
Mark Lee X Reader, ft. Johnny | Smut, Fluff | 4.6k | College AU
Summary: Considering your boyfriend never dares to take the initiative to go further than your usual make-out sessions, you have to do the part to actually be in charge of the relationship.
Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, Mark Lee losing his virginity while being extremely awkward and utterly cute about it, oral sex, fingering, failed fluff (idk man this is just basically me being a thirsty hoe over morkly)
“Remember the suit you wore when we went to your aunt’s wedding?”
Your boyfriend, who has been together with you for almost a year by now, hums in response, not really giving you any glance as he’s busy tapping his pen to his lips, thinking about writing the next lyric for the song he’s composing. Mark Lee has his chest pressed against his acoustic guitar, his hair’s a bit messy and slightly parted to the side, showing his forehead. Considering how close he’s sitting on the floor next to you, you can tell how half of the collar of his washed-out denim jacket stands up, brushing against the end of his dark hair.
“Yeah, what about it?” He continues asking when he notices that you’re waiting for a proper answer. He slips his guitar pick back between his fingers and tries a few chords to match his lyrics.
“I just dreamt about you fucking me from behind while wearing that suit.”
Mark strums his guitar too hard out of shock, making his instrument flies away from his lap, hitting the marbled floor with a sudden loud noise.
“What?”
Still having your head pressed against the table with your right cheek glued to your abandoned college papers, you flatly repeat, “I dreamt about you fucking—”
Mark stands up so fast, you can tell he’s having a slight headache because of it. “No. No. I heard what you said, I just—” It’s a fact that Mark blushes rather easily, but he has never blushed this hard before. “What—why—telling me so suddenly like this—you’re—”
“Mark, you’re rambling.”
“Why are you so calm about it?!” He walks away to pick up his guitar, unconsciously stomping a little bit like a fuming child as he does so. “And why are you lazing around like that? Didn’t you have some assignments to do?”
You finally straighten yourself up, looking at the textbooks you need to read and suddenly feeling like you’re dyslexic from birth. “I dozed off a bit, I guess. I just woke up from that dream where—”
“OKAAAAYYYYY!” Mark scrambles back to your side, crossing his legs and shushing you down by covering your head with your hood until you can barely see anything. The grey hoodie you’re wearing—his hoodie, actually—is already oversized when Mark is wearing it, so it’s basically a dress when you’re wearing it and the hood is big enough to cover your entire head.
You pull your hood away, your hair looking like a mess and by then Mark still has his cheeks rosy from your words and you wonder, whether it really was too much to talk about with your boyfriend?
You have never been the one who gets easily embarrassed about sexual stuff—or about anything really, because you’re a pretty blunt person. It’s his job to get embarrassed about things—even the ones that came out from his own mouth. Mark can be so confident and so awkward at the same time that it doesn’t make sense but you find him to be cute that way.
“Mark.”
“If you’re going to talk about that dream again, I am going to yank my hair out of my head.”
“But—“
“And I’m going to yank your hair out of your head.”
“But then we’re both be bald.”
“That will be your fault.”
You huff, unconsciously pouting, before you finally let go and head back to your papers. You try to hold your concentration longer than a few minutes, but when you hear Mark going back to his guitar, humming a few notes here and there, you just give up because there’s no way you’re going to finish your thesis when your boyfriend is singing so angelically like that.
“New song?”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Thanks. It still feels a bit weird on some parts though, but—” Mark stops talking when you walk on all fours toward him, pushing the guitar out of his hands and crawl onto his lap. “Babe?”
You sink your face against the crook of his neck, hands going down and circle their way around his back. “Ssshh,” you say, exhaling all of his scents and thanking whoever it is that invented his perfume because goddamn, Mark smells like cinnamon and chocolate and everything that is good in this world. “I’m out of battery. I need to re-charge.”
Mark spends two seconds in silence before he blurts out laughing, “What are you even saying?” He protests but doesn’t push you away. Instead, he rests his chin on your shoulder and cuddles you closer into his chest.
“You’re so warm,” he murmurs, almost lazily as if he’s a few seconds away from sleeping. You answer by placing a peck on his neck which makes him jolt a little in surprise but not breaking away. The silence between you two is comforting but the way Mark’s jeans are pressing against your bare thighs is not so you move around, trying to find the most perfect comfort zone on his lap—not knowing that it is becoming a new kind of torture for your boyfriend. It’s until you feel something growing underneath you that you begin to halt your movements.
“Mark—”
“I know, don’t say it—”
“You’re kinda… hard.”
“I said, don’t—” He lets out a whine, slamming his temple against your shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry, but you keep moving your butt and it feels like you’re not wearing any pants—“
“I am not wearing any pants.”
“Fuck.” Mark is not the kind of man who curses a lot—he only does it when he’s surprised or when he panics as he tries to process what he’s saying next, so the fact that he’s cursing now can mean he’s feeling one of those things or both or for a whole other reason.
“I mean,” you try to explain, “I’m not trying to seduce you or anything. It’s just your hoodie is way too big for me so I thought why bother? It’s not like we’re going somewhere. We’re just hanging out in my bedroom after all.”
“Oh my God,” Mark groans, throwing his head back as he leans against your bed. “Just give me some time to calm down.”
He really looks like he’s trying to will his boner to go away, what with the way he furrows his eyebrows and keeps his eyes tightly closed in concentration. Mark is too much of a gentleman to ask for your help but you’re willing so it’s more like he’s giving one by providing the chance for you to ravage him.
Just gotta play it cool, though.
And by cool, you mean pressing your palm against his groin when he’s not expecting.
“Yo, what!” He jumps like a scared little cat and honestly, he’s too cute—so utterly cute—that you begin to lean up and kiss him square on the lips. “Mmph!” His protest is muffled by your mouth and the way you entangle your fingers around the back of his hair, pulling him close. He stiffens for a few seconds before he finally lets go, melting into the kiss and you know the next one is going to be your favourite part.
See, the thing with Mark is, he acts shy and awkward most of the time but when the moment is right, he can be passionate about things. Like when he’s playing music. Or writing his raps during his free time.
Or kissing you.
“Mark—“ It’s funny that you initiated this, but it’s you who’s losing your breath. Mark takes your hand when you’re about to fall off his lap, pulling you with enough force to make you tumble back to his chest, and slips his tongue inside your mouth as you gasp. His kisses are deep and fast, almost like he’s in a hurry to kiss you before you disappear from his life forever. You never peg yourself to act like a thirteen-year-old virgin—because you’re certainly not—but when Mark kisses you like this, you feel like you’re acting worse than that.
You can feel one of his hands on your thigh, holding you tight to the point it feels like it’s going to bruise. You push his denim jacket off his shoulders when he kisses your neck, lips hovering hot against your sensitive spot, making you say his name in the tone you’ve never made before.
“You,” Mark whispers between kisses, “have got,” another kiss, his teeth nibbling against your bottom lip, “to stop teasing me like this.” Another slip of his tongue, meeting yours for a split second before he breaks off the kiss. “Or else, I’ll go crazy. I am going crazy because of you.”
“Then why are you stopping?” You ask, breathing a little bit heavier. You cup one of his cheeks, leaning up to kiss him again but he pulls away, hesitating. “Mark?”
“I don’t think we should go any further.”
“You don’t?” You grind your hips against him again and his lips part slightly, trying his best to contain his moan. “Even though you’re this excited?”
“That—” He hisses, gripping hips with both hands to keep you still. “Stop it, you’re not being fair.”
“I’m being honest,” you correct him. “What’s wrong? What’s stopping you? What did I do wrong?”
You can tell he feels sorry for making you feel like this and he’s really contemplating whether he should tell you the real reason or not, so you squeeze his hand and smile at him. “Let me know, please?”
He licks his bottom lip nervously before he sighs. “It’s dumb but…” He looks away, trying to hide his face but you see how the tips of his ears are turning scarlet. “You’re Haechan’s ex and I know he can be a little bit, umm… wild.”
It takes a few seconds for you to process. “So you’re afraid that you’re going to be worse than him in bed?”
“No, I mean—“ He seems frustrated and ashamed, like a child being caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “Okay, yes, I guess you’re right. I am. But it’s more than that.”
The way he fidgets and rambles is just so cute—everything about him is cute—but you never say that out loud because he hates being called cute. He always says you’re cuter than him. “Mark, I don’t care about what happened with me and Haechan. I’m dating you now, aren’t I? You’re being jealous over nothing.”
The way he pouts indicates that he doesn’t particularly agree with your words, but he lets it go. “Well, there’s also one other thing.”
“What thing?”
“You know,” he shrugs, hiding his doe eyes behind his bangs. “That thing.”
“What? What is it? What thing?” Then you open your mouth in realisation. “Oh Mark, baby, I don’t care if you have a small dick. Size doesn’t matter.”
“What—NO!” He shrieks, face in flame. “I mean, not that I regularly measure it and compare it to other guys—I have never even seen another guy’s dick—not that I want to—”
“Mark, you’re rambling again.”
“I DON’T HAVE A SMALL DICK!” He exclaims and you hold back a laugh when he adds in a murmur, “At least I don’t think I have.”
“Okay, my bad.” You massage his shoulders, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Then what is it?”
Another silence, then. “I’ve never done this before.”
“What, sex?”
He weakly nods, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip worriedly, and you feel something warm growing inside your chest. The fact that he’s never been with anyone suddenly becomes the highlight of your life, and if you can be his first then you can just die from happiness by the end of the day.
But it’s because of this very reason, that you have to become very careful.
“Okay, then, let’s just take it slow?” You offer and he seems conflicted about his own expression. Part of him looks relieved but the other part of him looks disappointed.
“Why do I feel like we have our roles in reverse?” He asks, somewhat annoyedly, as you settle yourself better in his lap. You let out a small chuckle in response. “Also, your brother is downstairs.”
“He has his AirPods on.”
“How do you know he has his AirPods on?”
“Johnny always has his AirPods on.”
“But—”
“Mark,” you whisper, closing your eyes as the tip of your nose touching his, “Don’t you want me?”
He lets out a shaky breath, having a hard time trying not to stare at your lips that are becoming even more irresistible by the second. “You don’t even know how much I want you.”
“Then just let go. Just give in, Mark.” You press your temple against his and within this close proximity, his scent is intoxicatingly amazing.
“Okay,” he finally whispers back, but since he still sounds somewhat unsure, you add, “Look, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Just stop me whenever it gets too uncomfortable for you, okay?”
“Okay now we seriously have our roles in reverse. Should I be handing my dick to you now? I think you’ll make better use of it.”
“That sounds like a great idea only if it’s possib—” The rest of your words is replaced with a yelp when Mark suddenly pushes you down onto your back, your head hitting the floor too hard and now he’s yelping.
“Oh, shit—fuck!” He scrambles with his words and with his hands, trying to help you get up and check on your condition at the same time. “I’m so sorry! I was trying to be sexy and be in control or something like that—shit, it just looks way better in my head—I—Why are you laughing?!“
You can’t help it. This is all too ridiculous. Almost refreshing for you, even. You never compared Mark with your ex-boyfriend Haechan before because Mark is way, way better than he’s ever going to be but you remember that with Haechan, things were wild. So wild, that you constantly got caught off guard, not having enough time to focus on your feelings or your own pleasure and just fulfilling his, and his only. With Mark, you feel like you have so much more to give. So much more new experience. So much laughter. So much fun.
“Oh my God, Mark,” you cackle, wiping away some tears from your eyes, “I love you, but if you don’t stop acting so cute, I am going to ravish you myself.”
“What?”
You blink in realisation. “Sorry, that was too much.”
“No, not that.” He knits his eyebrows together. “You love me?”
You feel your heart drops to your stomach. You can’t believe you just said that. It’s not like you didn’t mean it—of course, you mean it. But you’ve tried your best to wait so you can hear him say it first. You are a woman, after all. And to think that you just said it randomly at times like this? After your boyfriend knocked your head against the floor for trying to be sexy? Not really the way you imagined it to be, that’s for sure.
“Umm,” you fondle the hem of your—his—hoodie. Great, now you’re nervous. Suddenly, those papers you have scattered on your table don’t look so bad. “You’re right, I do have some assignments to do. I’ll just get back to—“
Mark grabs your hand, holding you right on your spot. “You love me?”
You can practically hear your own heartbeat in your ears and it’s really fast. “My thesis—”
“Babe, I need to hear you say it.” The way his doe eyes are holding yours seems unfamiliar. His gaze is firm, unfaltering, and you give in because what else can you do? It’s really how you feel after all.
“I love you, Mark.” You can hear the shyness in your own voice and you curse inwardly because where did your confidence go? You were acting so superior before!
Mark doesn’t say a word and when you feel like dying is a better option than standing awkwardly in front of your attractive boyfriend after your stupid unplanned confession, he suddenly lifts your entire body with both hands and lays you down on the bed.
“Mark—“
He kisses you like he needs it to keep himself alive, and you find yourself closing your eyes shut, moulding your lips against his until you can taste the mint flavour from the candy he ate earlier. He tangles his fingers around your locks, the other hand cupping your cheek to angle your face better so he can kiss you deeper. You can’t help but to arch yourself closer to him, chest meeting chest, hips against hips. You can no longer tell whether the moans come from you or him but everything feels hot and going so fast, like you’re free-falling from a skyscraper.
Perhaps he feels the same way because he gradually slows his pace until he finally parts his lips from you. One look at your disheveled face and messy lipstick smeared from your mouth to your cheek, and he goes back to staring at your lips again with want. He mutters, “Fuck” under his breath, almost inaudibly before he crashes his lips against yours, but slower this time, just carefully savouring every taste and breathing in every scent of you.
Mark pulls away only to grab the hem of his white Van Halen shirt, pulling it over his head and tosses it somewhere without care and you have to remind yourself to breathe because fuck me, that was hot. His hair’s a mess—even messier than before and you think that’s just as hot as he can get but then he pushes his hair back with his hand, forehead showing as it glistens with sweat, and says, “I’m not going to hold back anymore.”
Again, fuck me, that was hot.
Mark seems brave enough to finally just let go and consume you in the way he has been wanting to for a while, but you can tell he’s also nervous from the way he fumbles every now and then, especially when he tries to unhook your bra without looking. He has no problem tossing your—his—hoodie away, but when he keeps his eyes closed as he kisses you, it takes a good minute for him to finally unclasp your bra.
He’s momentarily in awe when your naked breasts come into view but he wastes no more time trying to please you with both his hands and his mouth.
It’s good. He’s good. If he’s this good his first time, you can’t wait to see what happens next. You’re too busy losing yourself in his touch until you feel his length pressing against your thigh. By instinct, you press it harder against his groin, eliciting a surprised moan from him.
Goddamn, why is he so hot?
That voice of his; you want to hear it more and more, so you bring his mouth back to yours, align your hips with his and unzip his jeans. Mark is swearing again, but the more he swears, the breathier he sounds and when you rub him over his underwear, his moans are delicious.
“Feels good?” You ask and he kinds of scowl at you because what do you think?
Surprisingly enough, he pushes your hand away from his crotch and when you raise an eyebrow asking why, he kisses your body lower and lower until his face is hovering above your panties.
“Mark,” you call out, “Don’t try to be sexy and pull my underwear down with your teeth or something. You haven’t reached that level yet.”
He responds by tickling you hard on the sides of your stomach and you almost kick him in the face from laughing beyond control.
After all joking has receded, Mark swallows his breath nervously and kisses you on the inside part of your thigh, slowly creeping down to your heat, mouthing against it from over the fabric.
“Want me to take it off?” He asks in the cockiest way you’ve ever seen him do and you wonder who’s the virgin one in this relationship.
“Depends. Do you want to have blue balls for the rest of your life?”
“I’m kidding, geez,” he says, chuckling a bit but it sounds more nervous and he probably is nervous since he’s never done anything like this before.
“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” you assure him and he looks like he wants to retort with something clever and snarky but he also kind of needs your guidance so he keeps quiet and just pulls your underwear down and tosses it away.
Mark knows how to use his tongue, he just doesn’t know where he should use his tongue. That’s when your guidance comes handy, you suppose.
“A little bit lower, Mark.”
“Here?”
“Lower.”
“Umm… here?”
“Whoa, too low!” You spring up from the bed, pressing your thighs together so he won’t lick anywhere weird. “Okay, Mark, there’s my vagina and there’s my ass. Some girls like to have their asses eaten, but not me.”
“Right,” he says awkwardly, cheeks burning bright. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. Umm…” It’s so awkward and you both kind of just sit on the bed not knowing what to do so you ask, a bit unconvincingly, “Try again?”
To your surprise, Mark nods rather excitedly, like a child eager to learn and that’s cute and all but in this context? Not so much.
But wow, Mark learns fast.
It’s been more than a year since someone has touched you like this and it feels like it’s your first time again, so you’re quickly reduced to a whimpering mess when Mark kisses and flicks his tongue against your private part. And when he sucks at a particular spot, you’re practically screaming his name.
“S-sorry, did I hurt you?” He asks, pulling away, eyes shaking in concern.
“God, no.” You’re this close to shoving his face back to your crotch. “Don’t stop, Mark, please.”
“But if you’re in pain—“
“Mark,” you can practically feel your patience throwing itself out of the window. “If I’m in pain, I will kick you in the face or tell you to stop, so if I don’t do any of that, don’t fucking stop.”
You know you sound a bit desperate. Or a lot. But is there any girl out there who’s not going to sound this desperate when Mark Lee is using his mouth to utter nonsense when he just did a perfectly good job over there?
Lucky for you, Mark actually listens and doesn’t stop going even if you’re mewling his name, to the point of almost sobbing even, and continues to please you until your thighs begin to tremble in delight and you fall back to the bed with the biggest content sigh you’ve ever made in your entire life.
“How was it?” He asks with a little bit of teasing in his tone because he can see how good it was. You can tell he wants to hear you praise him.
“You, Mark Lee,” you breathe out, looking at him with stars in your eyes. “Are the most talented person in the world and I’m not just talking about your talent in music, but in everything.”
He chuckles. “That good?”
You pull him down by his belt, until his chest pressing against yours again. “That good,” you agree before you crash your mouth against his in the most consuming way you’ve ever kissed someone.
Mark eventually has his pants off and you switch positions when he’s finally stark naked. He’s so shy about the whole thing that he barely keeps eye contact with you, and he stutters hard, asking where the condom is when you begin to position yourself on top of him. You shake your head, telling him that you don’t have one and add, “Just tell me when you’re about to come so you can pull out just in time.”
Mark opens and closes his mouth like a fish gasping for air, probably about to protest but can’t come up with any better solution. Besides, he basically just throws everything out of the door when you sit down on his lap, your walls stretching against his length in one swift motion and he throws his head back.
“Fuck!” He breathes heavily, looking at you specifically at the part where you both are connected. “You’re wet—how are you so wet—and warm—oh my God—I’m—“
“You’re rambling again.” It’s the third time you said that to him in the last hour, which must have been some kind of a record. Not important right now, though. You’re focusing yourself to adapt to his length—because he’s nowhere small, it turns out—and slide up and down when it stings less.
“Okay, shit, wait—“ Mark sinks his nails on the sides of your hips, making you wince a little and he pulls back, muttering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I feel like I’m going crazy. Can we stop?”
“Too much?”
“Too much.”
You tease him by clenching your walls around him and he just groans loudly in the sexiest way you’ve ever heard a man groan. “Babe, please,” he begs, eyes half-lidded in lust. “You’re not being fair. It’s my first time.”
“So?” You can’t help it. You’re having so much fun. You rock your hips against him again and he just loses it. Mark grabs you by the waist, bringing you back down to the bed and muffle your laughter with his mouth.
“Since you can’t stop teasing me about it,” Mark says, spreading your legs apart by instinct and seeing him between your thighs is just the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed. “I’ll take control from here.”
Mark moves rather awkwardly, and sloppily from time to time but he is hitting the right spot. He’s too enthusiastic though, which doesn’t make him last long. He comes undone soon after, dripping liquid onto your stomach before your own orgasm can hit you but he doesn’t spend his time lying beside you on the bed. Instead, he quickly inserts one finger into you, then two, pumping in and out as he analyses your expression—making sure that he’s doing right and not hurting you in the process. You clutch your fingers around his bicep, urging him to go faster with your mouth parting halfway in pleasure and he smiles proudly at the sight. Smirking, he brings his mouth back to suck on whatever that is that makes you feel like the world is ending and you don’t fucking care because of Mark, oh yes, Mark!
When you’re done, he pulls his fingers out and licks the tips. He’s probably not trying to be sexy but more out of curiosity or just trying to imitate some dudes in those porn videos he watches from time to time, but goddamn, please do that again.
“Sorry for making such a mess,” he says, pushing the bangs out of your eyes, “I’ll go grab some tissues to clean you up—”
You bring him down to kiss him, senselessly, longingly, and languidly. Just enjoying the moment as you come down from your high. “You know,” you say, “I don’t know if I’m a good teacher, or you’re just one hell of a student, but that was amazing.”
Mark blushes but he grins like a child. “Am I better than Haechan?”
“I hate you for bringing him up because he no longer exists in my life but I bet my ass he’s never going to be as good as you. Our first time is ten times better than my last time with him.”
“You’re being honest?”
“Ten thousand percent.”
Mark plops down on the bed next to you, punching the air in a winning pose. “Hell yes!”
“Mark?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Let’s take a shower together. You see, practice makes perfect.”
As he’s busy trying to wash the blush away from his face, there’s a loud knocking sound coming from the other side of your door.
“Have you two bunnies done fucking each other’s brains out yet? I need to take my AirPods you borrowed.”
Mark stares at you in horror when you finally remember that you, indeed, borrowed Johnny’s AirPods this morning.
You begin to sweat. “Oops?”
***
#hahahaha wat is dis even#i am so sorry for this#mark lee#mark lee smut#nct#mark nct#mark lee nct#smut#nct u#nct 127#mark x reader#mark lee x reader#fluff#fanfic#nct fanfic#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct reactions#super m#superm#mark super m#mark superm#nct edit#mark lee fanfics#mark lee scenarios#mark lee imagines#mark lee fluff#mine#sundaysundaes
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Request 21: Haechan + “How did we get here?” (58) + “Are you high?’ (93) + “Why are you naked?” (109)
pairing; haechan x reader
genre; fluff, suggestive, childhood friends to lovers au
warnings; mentions of unprotected sex
The first thing that jolts you awake isn’t the numbing cold prickling your skin, nor is it the familiar sensation of having the duvet tugged away from your sound asleep body, no, it’s the abrupt animalistic snore in your ear.
You scramble into a sitting position, back resting against the headboard and legs tucked. Your heart lurches in your chest and you place your fist to it like that would do anything to calm its hammering. This paralysing fear only worsens the headache you’re currently experiencing. Cold sweat runs down your back as you face the person—or entity—that had just created that horrid sound.
With the strands of his soft hair falling into his eyes and his smooth golden skin illuminated by the fresh morning sunlight pouring through the blinds, Donghyuck looks beautiful, no, ethereal, nestled away beneath the covers. Your cheeks begin to grow warm. It’s unfair really, how nice he looks, peacefully asleep (besides the trail of spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth, that is). You can’t believe a sound that unholy came from someone who looks like that.
Your eyes dart warily across the interior of the room. Muted grey walls surround you, pictures of varying sizes hanging precariously from nails. A shelf lines the wall to your right, the first and second shelf packed with books of different kinds. Most of them, you recognise, are ones you have too. The college listed them as mandatory and you remember grumbling to Donghyuck about the ridiculous cost of them. On the right of the bookshelf sits a table, crowded with notebooks and eraser shavings. A laptop is half open on the table and there’s a single sticker beside the mouse pad. A familiar photo of you and Donghyuck from high school rests against the wall and past you smiles at you. You’ve been here before. Even though Hyuck just moved in with his best friend Mark last week, you’d been here twice, not including now. Since you’ve known Donghyuck, which was in like kindergarten, his room had somewhat become yours and vice-versa. You turn to face your childhood friend beside you.
Your heart rate begins to accelerate. Why are you in the same bed as Donghyuck? And where the fuck are his clothes?
You vigorously shake him awake, unable to hide your fret. “Hyuck!” He mumbles something in his sleep. “Hyuck! Wake up!”
Donghyuck groans, eyes squinted as they’re immediately greeted by the blinding sunlight flooding the room. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand, propping himself up with an elbow.
His eyelids are still droopy and you frown. “Are you high?” Some stoner friend of Hyuck’s had come over last night and you wouldn’t be surprised if Donghyuck had taken a hit.
He shakes his head slowly, hair sticking out in all possible directions. “No, I’m just- I think I'm just hungover.” You visibly notice the way the early morning grogginess leaves him and is replaced with a feeling of bewilderment. “Why are you in my bed?” His head swivels to scan the room, face contorted into one of confusion. “How did we get here?”
You disregard his concerns, because both of you being half-naked is far more concerning. You decide to leave that mystery for later. “Hyuck, why are you naked?”
As if he’s just realised the fact, Donghyuck shields his bare chest from your eyes with his arms. “I’m not completely naked! I’ve, uhh,” he lifts the covers, peeking beneath them, “I have some shorts on.” You roll your eyes. That doesn’t help in the slightest. Donghyuck scoffs at your reaction.
The two of you stare at each other in silence, trying to process what’s going on and what on Earth happened yesterday. All you can recall from last night is showing up to Donghyuck’s party, the both of you immediately scurrying to the alcohol and downing anything you could get your hands on. Everything after that has now become one of Mother Nature’s greatest mysteries.
You try to come up with a logical explanation with all the evidence presented to you. You’re in bed in only an oversized shirt and your underwear with Hyuck, and he’s half-naked. You two had gotten absolutely thrashed last night and had no semblance of an idea as to what had happened. Did you two… No, you hadn’t… But, maybe you two—
“Did we have sex last night?”
You flush a deep red. You didn’t expect Donghyuck to bring it up so casually. You bite the flesh of your inner cheek. “I don’t remember. In fact, I don’t remember anything that happened last night.”
Donghyuck huffs. He flops back onto the bed, clasping his hands atop his toned stomach. You haven’t seen him so… exposed before. The last time you had was probably five years ago at your ex-boyfriend Jeno’s pool party. He’s definitely more well-built now, an ab-line beginning to reveal itself. Donghyuck’s cheeks seem to be adorning an adorable pink tint too. “Me neither.”
Seeing his nonchalance, your shoulders loosen considerably. You let your head fall back onto the headboard, stretching out your bare legs. The movement catches Donghyuck’s eye, but he swiftly averts his gaze, clearing his throat. “So, I guess we did.”
“Oh.” Donghyuck nods curtly. “Cool.”
“Yeah,” you pick at your nails, “cool.”
Donghyuck glances to the bedside drawer and then to the rubbish bin. “Did we, uhm, did we at least use protection?”
“Well, shit, I hope we did,” you fiddle with the edges of Hyuck’s covers, “I mean I really like you but I wouldn’t let you raw me the first time we have sex.” You can feel his intent stare, his eyes boring into you, making your skin crawl with unease. “But I’m on the pill, so I should be fine.” Hyuck still hasn’t let up, probably because his childhood friend of fifteen hears just confessed to him. “Follow me to the store to get a morning-after pill, okay?”
Donghyuck blinks. Once. Twice. “Oh, yeah, totally.” You’re praying he doesn’t bring up what you just said.
“You like me?”
Damn.
“Well, yeah.” You tack your gaze onto the ground.
Donghyuck, being the cheeky little bastard he is, shoves his face in your line of sight. He grins, planting both of his palms on your cheeks, forcing you to face him. “Say it again.”
Your face grows crimson. You feign ignorance, averting eye-contact. “Say what again?”
“Don’t act dumb,” Hyuck says, smiling coyly. “Say it again and look at me while you do.”
Your stomach twists, a sudden wave of bashfulness crashing into you. “Hyuck…”
His grin grows wider, a hint of amusement present. “Come on, baby. I won’t ask you again.”
Your face is a deathly shade of red now and the tips of your ears are burning. “I like you.”
Despite the fact that you are experiencing such a nerve wracking ordeal, the half-naked boy before you laughs. He’s delighted. “Say it again.” At your pout he giggles. “Please?”
“I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you, Lee Donghyuck.” You furrow your brows. “Happy now?”
Donghyuck has to stop himself from kissing you right there and then. “Very.”
“Now say it back.”
Instead, he satisfies his urge by pecking your forehead. “I like you too.”
“What the fuck are you guys doing?”
Both you and Donghyuck’s gazes immediately snap towards the door where a disgruntled Mark is leaning against the frame. Mark’s usually all bright smiles but right now, he looks disgruntled. He’s probably crazy hungover.
“I’ve only brought you in here half-an-hour ago Hyuck, and you can’t even keep it in your pants for that long?”
Donghyuck tilts his head in obvious befuddlement. “What do you mean half-an-hour ago?”
Mark scoffs. “I carried you in here? Half-an-hour ago? Because you were passed out on the floor? And I’m a super nice best friend?”
“So, I’ve only been in here for half-an-hour?”
Mark groans. “Are you still drunk? Yeah, I just said.”
“But why are we half-naked?
“You don’t remember?” Mark runs a hair through his disheveled hair, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose. “While we were cleaning up, you spilled a drink on yourself and puked on her, dude. Man, you must’ve been really drunk.”
“So then me and—”
“Anyway, can you guys keep it down? I’m trying to facetime my girlfriend.”
Donghyuck snorts. “Looking like that? You look like shit.”
Mark scowls. “Fuck off, asshole. I should’ve just left you on the floor, prick.”
As he storms away, Mark mutters a string of curses under his breath. You and Donghyuck sit in silence again, letting all that information which was unceremoniously relayed to you sink in.
“So, we didn’t fuck?”
“I guess not.”
Hyuck smiles slyly. “You want to right now?”
You reply by whacking him square in the face with a pillow as his laughter rings in your ears and Mark yells at you two to shut up.
#toaster requests#nct fluff#nct smut#haechan fluff#haechan smut#nct dream#nct#nct haechan#haechan nct#nct 127#nct u#nct drabbles#haechan drabbles#donghyuck#lee donghyuck#nct x reader#haechan x reader#nct oneshots#nct reactions#nct timestamps#nct scenarios#nct imagines#haechan reactions#haechan oneshots#haechan timestamps#haechna scenarios#haechan imagines#nct fanfic#haechan fanfic
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One Drink Away
Summary- Jubal says to OA there is no such thing as a recovered alcoholic – all it takes is one bad day. Well here is one bad day that leads Jubal to a bar but somehow Jubal gets roped into a Speed Dating event instead. One of the women may even catch his eye. Some angst Jubal with him almost breaking his sobriety.
It looked so harmless in the glass, the clear liquid gently fizzing away in his hand, tantalisingly harmless. The tonic water bubbles rise, pushing the ice from side to side gently in the tumbler and coating the slice of lime with tiny balls as it bobs on the surface. Jubal’s hand closes around the glass, not raising it from the bar but just cradling it in his hand, watching the bubbles. It could be sparkling water. It could be lemonade. He wished it was either; that he had that kind of self-control. He knew what he should do – put the glass down and walk out of the bar. The little voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to just let go of the glass; he had already lost his wife, his kids. It pleaded with him to not risk his career too – he had barely hung on to that last time around. Without the sobriety, he didn’t get to be a Fed, it reasoned. Did he want to be though, came the small hiss from his shoulder – it brought forth the images. Images he had tried so hard to remove from his mind, but had decorated his computer screen and the JOC all day – battered and bruised women, their lifeless and hollow eyes gapping out of the screens. The families sorrow and anger as they sat defeated in their conference room; their sobbing and wails still echoed through the recesses of his mind even now – hours later. His hand tightened on the glass and the cold edge of the glass touched his lips. Tiny specks of the liquid dotted the top of his nose and upper lip as the tonic fizzed, the ice clinking against the glasses rim. One sip and all of the cries and lifeless broken bodies would go away – it would blissfully silent. His resolve breaks and just as the cool liquid collides with his dry lips and threatens to spill into his mouth, a hand settles on his arm.
Startling, he jumps, vodka tonic sloshing sideways over the side of the glass and over his hand and chin, dripping on to the bar below. Grabbing the damp napkin his drink had been on, he presses this to his face, wiping away the droplets from his beard and lips as he turns.
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry for startling you!”
The young man looks mortified as he hovers behind Jubal slightly to his left. His eyes dart to the man’s hand still attached to Jubal’s arm and the hand is quickly removed. Before Jubal can turn away or say anything the young man continues to speak rapidly, words tripping over each other in his haste,
“I thought maybe you were here for our group…”
He gestures an arm behind him at a small group gathered by the double doors leading to the restaurant seating of the bar. As two scantily-clad women moved from bending over a table just to the left of the doors and moved arm in arm giggling through the doors. Jubal’s eyes focused on the sign by the table that they had been obscuring and reading it, his eyebrows raised.
“…I thought I would come and check but its so loud in here and I thought I would just tap your arm and then you moved and… and I’ve spilt your drink everywhere. Oh god! I’m so sorry, I’m such a clutz! Here… let me…”
Another napkin was shoved at Jubal’s hand, knocking his glass again, causing the ice cubes to rattle against the side in protest at the jolting.
“It’s okay.”
Jubal tries to placate the man, pushing the glass across the bar towards the barman and pressing the napkins to the pool of vodka left in a ring on the bar in front of him. A small flicker of relief fills him as he realises in all of the commotion, not a drop of vodka had passed his lips – just run down his chin and hand.
“It’s just… well two of the men haven’t shown up and it’s going to throw all of the numbers out. We barely have enough men signing up as it is and we’ve had no walk-ins tonight either. I was kinda hoping you were one of the two missing ones and I’m still talking… Todd get a grip”
The last part of the sentence was quieter as the man berated himself.
“Wouldn’t I be too old – isn’t there an age limit to these things?”
The words came out of Jubal’s mouth before he had a chance to stop them. Sudden hope flickered in to the man’s eyes as he recognised a person on the verge of joining.
“Not at all – there is no age limit. You would be amazed how many of the women like an older man – more experienced you know! It would be completely free – of course there is usually a charge but seeing as how we are two short and I’ve chucked your drink everywhere…”
Between Todd’s quick rambling and his insistent hand on Jubal’s arm, Jubal found himself swept across the room and filling in his details on the form pushed in front of him. Excuses pushed to the tip of his tongue, yet Todd was barely stopping for breath as he continued to talk,
“It’s super easy, all of the women are seated at a table the whole time. You sit across from them and you have 8 minutes with each woman. On the bell you move clockwise around the room – that’s to your right each time. The women don’t move at all. When you’ve been all the way around, the whole thing ends. You will have a sort of tick sheet – tick which women you would like to talk with again and give it into us at the end. If you and her sheets match, then we will pass you her phone number and you can contact each other – that simple. Most of them will hang around at the end, get a drink at the bar etc. Obviously, any rude or pervy behaviour and you are out.”
A sheet of paper and a pencil is pushed into Jubal’s hand as he is guided to a table and pushed into the chair. He turns but Todd is gone again, moving across the room to help another woman discreetly remove a table and two chairs from the circle. Turning away from Todd’s disappearing back, he faces the woman sitting across from him. The first thing that he notices is that she’s young however this is quickly replaced by the small bemused smile that she is trying to hide behind her hair, which is swinging loose around her face and down her back.
Jubal jumps slightly as a bell sounds from one end of the room and the woman’s smile grows into a giggle as his pencil almost rolls off the table with his jolt. It is stopped by a slim hand that darts across the table to grab it before it tumbles to the floor. Voices around them start, the volume growing and growing as seconds pass; odd nervous laughter dotting through.
“Do you want to…?”
Jubal’s eyes dart from the pencil clasped firmly in his fingers to the woman opposite as her soft New York accent filtered through the surrounding cacophony of noise. Of course, she was expecting him to speak, his mouth opened and his voice engaged and he started to talk well before he thought of what to say,
“I… uh.. well I’m divorced, got two kids – a boy and a girl. I’m a federal agent and …um a recovering alcoholic. Been sober almost 4 years and almost broke that about 20 minutes ago if uh… Todd hadn’t literally bumped into me and somehow got me to agree to this and… and that’s… that’s more than you needed to know.”
Jubal’s usually confident voice had been reduced to stutters and stumbling over the words spewing from his mouth suddenly. He trailed off as his brain caught up with him and ducked his head away from the women to look at the label of the bottled water on the table in front of him instead.
“That was honest – don’t get a lot of that with these things usually. Mostly posers or men with only one thing on their mind. Well, in the spirit of being honest, I’m single. My last boyfriend cheated on me with most of lower Manhattan – well the ones in skirts anyway and I have a very big weakness for shoes – I buy far too many of them!”
As she talked, Jubal moved his attention from the bottle in front of him up to her face. As she realises she has his attention and made eye contact with him, she smiled. It lights up her face, making her green eyes sparkle and dimples appear in her cheeks. Jubal felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth in return as she continues to speak,
“For the record – I’m pretty sure Todd has bamboozled all of us into one of these things at one time or another. I know most of the girls – there is no need to be nervous, none of us bite. Well… Tanya at table 4 might but she does have a thing for guys with beards so maybe keep the table between you and her.”
For the last part she leaned towards him across the table, nodding towards a woman two tables down from them with her head. Bleach blonde, her black dress was so low cut her cleavage was almost falling out of the top and her red nails looks so long they could be claws. Turning his attention away from Tanya, he darted his gaze back to the woman in front of him. She winks conspiratorially before sitting back in her chair again, settling backwards to tip her head to the side to gaze at him,
“How long have you been divorced? This the first time dating after?”
Jubal clears his throat, twirling the pencil around his fingers once before answering,
“Uh… 4 years now. And yeah I suppose this is the first time – work usually gets in the way which is a complete excuse now I’m saying it out loud…”
“Its always tough getting back out there. Tough to realise everything is over and you need to move on – gotta be harder when you have two kids.”
Jubal huffs a small laugh as he moves to rub his thumb along his top lip, nodding in agreement.
“Enough about me – what about you. How long have you and your ex been broken up?”
She tilts her head, green eyes flitting over his face and he has the distinct impression that he is being read. The look reminds him of Maggie and Dana when they are trying to figure a perp out. Just as the feeling starts, she flicks a smile and inclines her head – letting him change the subject away from him.
“Two years. Moved in with my sister for a bit while we sold our apartment – would not recommend moving in with siblings again after living on your own – absolute nightmare. Uh… not real excuse for not dating again after only that trusting someone is hard – ya know.”
Jubal had just enough time to murmur an agreement when the bell clanged, jerking them out of their little bubble and back into the room. Around them chairs scrapped as the men got ready to move round. Blinking at the sudden stopping, Jubal moves to pick up his piece of paper and pencil as the man to this left starts to move towards their table, his shadow falling over them. Fumbling, Jubal gets a few steps away before her voice stops him, making him turn back,
“Hey – I never got your name.”
Turning he gazes at her for a second, before realising that she was right. They hadn’t exchanged names.
“Huh sorry, Jubal”
Her smile again lights up her features as he moves back towards her reaching out his hand in an automatic movement. He was so used to immediately shaking people’s hands at the Bureau as they exchanged names, that he had started to do the exact same thing. Before, he could over analyse however, a soft warm hand had slid into his.
“Alice”
Her voice answered his as their joined hands squeezed for a second palm to palm before a small cough from the man currently seated at Alice’s table caused them to break apart. Alice raised her eyebrows with a small eyeroll as if to say, ‘see – poser or player’ before turning to sit back down again.
Jubal turned to sit at the next table – facing a young black woman who appeared to be young enough to be his daughter at least. Sighing inwardly, he pushed a smile on to his face as Scarlett introduced herself. This time, he reined himself in with the commentary however, Scarlett didn’t seem to need much help with the conversation, filling most of the 8 minutes with words such as ‘Tik-Tok’, ‘Instagram’ and claimed herself to be an ‘Influencer’ whatever one of those was. Scarlett had seemed to think this was impressive, Jubal wasn’t sure what one was or how this could “change her life”. Jubal just hoped the confusion hadn’t shown on his face too much throughout the conversation. The bell could not come fast enough.
The next few tables did not get any better – Elsie decided to tell him all about Ginseng Tea and its wonders of helping with erectile dysfunction. Jubal wasn’t sure why Elsie decided to tell him all about this and was starting to get a small complex about his age until Jenna at the next table told him Elsie was telling all of the men this and spent her 8 minutes apologising for Elsie – apparently, they were roommates and good friends. Maria divulged the best way to rear a Labradoodle. This would have been helpful or at least interesting if Jubal knew anything about dogs – he had had a fish growing up for all of a week before it died and was flushed down the toilet. Maria then tried to sell him a Labradoodle and was very insistent even after a very glad Jubal told her his building would not allow pets – yes even very well-behaved ones.
Then came the dreaded woman – Tanya. Jubal was not one to judge, especially on appearances. But he was beyond definitely sure that that level of plastic could not be healthy in Tanya’s face… or her chest either. Tanya’s hand gripped down on his arm, her talons… sorry nails dug into his skin for the entire time as she pushed her chest into his face and answered all of his polite questions with thinly veiled innuendos and cackling at her own puns. Jubal had never willed a work call to interrupt his night so much since he had joined the Bureau. Thankfully the 8 minutes ended quickly and he was round to the last women – Sheena. Sheena managed to hold a conversation with Jubal for the whole 8 minutes without making him feel old or making him want to run away and hide.
With that people finished filling in their sheets of paper and stood, handing them to Todd and his female minion as some filtered out of the door and the rest moved to order a drink at the bar. He remained seated as Sheena moved away to the bar, staring at his seat of paper. He could safely say no to 6 of the women immediately – yet his pencil hovered over Alice’s name. Looking up, he scanned the crowd and found her, standing hip to the bar as she laughed along with something Sheena was miming out beside her. Her brown hair fell down her back, her jeans were tight to her curves but her shirt was looser, draped over her body – hiding her figure. Shaking his head, he turned away muttering to himself ‘silly old fool’ his pencil moved and marked Alice’s section too. What would a beautiful woman like that want with him? Passing his paper to Todd with a nod, he walked out of the bar and into the cool night air, pulling his coat on he turned and headed towards the subway.
Sitting in the subway car however, he pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. No messages, no calls. Shoving the phone back into its holster on his hip, he thought back to the yes tick he had put on Alice’s line of his paper. Divorced, alcoholic, bumbling fool - she was probably just being nice and putting him at ease, he thought shaking his head. Idiot he berated himself. Yet, as he walked up the steps and out on to the street again, he thought back to her smile, her sparkling eyes, the way her hand had felt in his.
As he exited his bathroom, his bedroom was bathed in the white light from his phone. Frowning, he moved across the room to where his phone sat on his night stand. Pushing the home button to get the phone to light up again, he saw a message from an unknown number on his screen,
Its Alice. Glad we matched – maybe talk again some time?
Sinking down on to his bed, he stared at the words on his screen and tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach that the words had created. Maybe not so bumbling after all.
#fbi#jubal valentine#Jubal Valentine/OC#Speed Dating#Jubal Angst#Almost Falling off the wagon#Mentions of alcohol
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Tomorrow Holds Such Better Days (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader)
Requested: Anon
“I have 2 requests but they are completely up to your interpretation anyways, so for one like tommy taking care of his drunk girlfriend or friend or whatever you want and then another request would be tommy (lol love my tommy) where like the reader and tommy are friends and they’re at a bar and readers ex is there and shit goes down. Hopefully those make sense, do what you want!”
Note: Here’s a cute little imagine to start your week off with! I have one month until the semester starts, and I’m trying really hard to bang out these requests before they take even longer to post (if you can even believe it). As always, thank y’all so much for reading/requesting, and please lmk what you think!
word count: 1,676
[Warnings: alcohol use, language]
permanent tags: @colsonbakersnoseringmain, @lululovesgwtw, @kingbouji3
mötley crüe tags: @lauravic
You lean your head against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall, head spinning as you kneel in front of the toilet. The lights are far too bright, and every cell in your body is begging for you to release any trace of alcohol that’s still poisoning you. You try your best to heave into the toilet bowl, but it doesn’t seem like you have much left to give.
So much for a good night out.
Eyes heavy with exhaustion, you suddenly find that the shaggy bath mat looks a lot cozier than you remember. More than anything you want to curl up on it and drift into a drunken sleep, uncaring of how many dirty boots and other wasted idiots may have trampled upon it in the past. Just as you feel yourself giving into the urge to tip right over, a loud knock on the bathroom door jolts you back into some semblance of reality.
“Y/N?” a muffled voice from the other side of the door calls out to you, but the faint thump of background music makes it hard to distinguish who it belongs to.
“Fuck off,” you groan instinctively. The last thing you want right now is visitors.
The person on the other side knocks again, either ignoring your request, or simply deciding they don’t care.
“Open up, Y/N,” they try again, “It’s me– Tommy!”
Tommy?
The name ricochets through your mind, moving as slow as ripples on still water. Your boyfriend was supposed to be playing a gig halfway across town, not banging on the bathroom door of a dingy, West Hollywood house party. You groan internally, knowing that your best friend must have called him when she heard you throwing up. Sitting in radio silence, you pray up at the popcorn ceiling that he’ll give up and go away. Sure, you had peeled Tommy off the floor of countless bars and bathrooms–but you couldn’t let him see you like this. You were always the one in control, and your pride isn’t willing to cut you any slack.
Despite your efforts to will him away, Tommy shoves the door open, making you scold your past self for not locking it earlier. You cringe at the sounds of laughter and music temporarily invading the space, and Tommy closes the door behind him.
“There’s my stubborn girl,” he coos, kneeling down to meet your gaze. Suddenly, your alcohol induced agitation melts away at the sound of Tommy’s voice.
A dreamy sigh escapes from your lips, and you think that he looks just as gorgeous as the night you met him. Every bit of natural instinct left in you is screaming for him to go away, but you are unable to ignore the pitter patter of your heart.
“You seeing anyone?”
The question startles you out of your thoughts. Turning around, you find a very tall boy with a shy smile and nervous fingertips standing before you. You didn’t recognize him, and yet you can’t help but wonder how you could have possibly missed him. With his long wavy hair and ripped jeans, you’re almost positive he would’ve stood out amongst the crowd– but then again, you were too caught up in your own mess to have noticed anyone else.
“Sorry?” you ask, realizing you got so preoccupied by ogling at him that you hadn’t really heard his question.
“I said,” he answers, taking a more confident step forward, “are you seeing anyone? I saw you inside the party earlier and you looked– well, you looked kinda lonely.”
Taken slightly aback by the boy’s forwardness, you take a sip of the drink in your hand in a desperate attempt to buy more time. Who does this guy think he is anyway? You have half a mind to tell him off, but something in those blue eyes makes you swallow your aggression. It’s not like he knew you and your last boyfriend just ended things a few nights ago. You’d come out to your best friend’s party to get your mind off of things, and somehow ended up alone on the front porch, lost in thought.
Well– at least you aren’t alone anymore.
“No,” you quip, peering at the boy over the top of your red solo cup.
“No, as in you aren’t seeing anyone, or no, you’re not lonely?” he continues to wander towards your place on by porch’s railing, slowly but surely closing the gap between the two of you.
To yours and his surprise, you don’t back away. Instead, you rest against the railing, making yourself more comfortable in an effort to ignore your pounding heart. Any other guy trying to smooth talk you would have you turning on your heel and heading the other direction, but there’s something about his sincerity that locks you in place.
“No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
The boy flashes you a kilowatt smile and leans on the railing next to you, propping his weight on his elbows so that he can look you in the eyes. The sound of your heartbeat is deafening.
“Then why don’t you come see me, gorgeous?” he punctuates his question with a wink, and you can’t hide the smile that ghosts your lips. God, it’s been so long since you’ve smiled.
“In your dreams, kid,” you laugh. Even though the guy in front of you is probably around your age, you’re more accustomed to older guys trying to get your attention.
The boy holds a hand to his chest dramatically, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Ouch! That really wounded me, you know.”
“Then bleed,” you pur, leaning in close enough to whisper in his ear. His mouth hangs open in disbelief, clearly feeling as though he had met his match.
You set your empty solo cup on the railing, and turn to leave with a smirk of satisfaction on your lips. Even if he hadn’t necessarily succeeded in picking you up, you find yourself grateful for the distraction. Just as you are about to open the front door and head inside, the boy calls out to you once again.
“Wait! I wasn’t done talking to you,” even after being paralysed by your words, he still has a goofy smile plastered across his face. You find yourself admiring his resilience.
“Call me when you’re older,” you grin. Your hand is wrapped around the doorknob, but you still stand there, unmoving.
“How about I call you tomorrow?” The boy approaches you tentatively, his face softening as his blue eyes search yours for any indication that he’s overstepping any boundaries. “Come on, what have you got to lose?”
Nothing, you think as your mouth runs dry of clever things to say.
“So, tomorrow then?” he asks, clearly not buying into the idea that you were completely done with him.
You bite your lip, wondering if the stranger in front of you is in any way worth taking a chance on. Even if you don’t know his name you can’t deny that he managed to do the impossible– he made you smile when you thought you never would again.
“Tomorrow, it is.”
That had been about six months ago. Six months of movie nights, spontaneous road trips, and cheering Tommy on from the front row of his gigs. As much as you hate to admit it sometimes– you wouldn’t change a thing.
“Who are you calling stubborn?” you giggle, recalling the way Tommy was banging on the bathroom door just moments before.
Without answering, he grabs you by the arms and helps hoist you to your feet. To your chagrin, the room is spinning and you cling to Tommy in the hopes that you won’t tumble over completely.
“Easy there, gorgeous,” he smiles, allowing you to lean against his lanky figure, “I’ve got you.”
As Tommy practically carries you out of the party, another streak of guilt and embarrassment washes through you. You are an adult for chrissakes, no one should be taking care of you but yourself.
“‘M sorry,” you mumble as Tommy helps get you situated in the car. Even though your boyfriend seems more than happy to help, you can’t help your drunk brain’s natural instinct to become melancholy and self conscious.
“What for?” he asks, buckling your seatbelt for you.
You can feel your eyes sting as Tommy climbs into the driver’s seat and cranks the ignition, making the car come to life with a gentle hum.
“I shouldn’t have drank so much– I hate you seeing me like this.”
Tommy rests a hand on your leg as he drives, helping to ground you in the moment just a little bit more. You grasp at it like a lifeline, doing everything you can to avoid the bright lights of the city as the two of you journey home.
“Trust me, baby,” he scoffs, “I have done and seen so much worse. You don’t even wanna know. Besides, you take care of me all the time– let me take care of you, okay?”
You smile for the first time since Tommy picked you up off the bathroom floor and find the courage to glance over. His eyes are trained on the road, but a smile remains firmly fixed on his face– unwavering and only for you. While you’re still dizzy from the alcohol swimming through your bloodstream, the knot in your stomach seems to have finally untangled.
“Maybe I, uh, can make it– make it up to you tomorrow,” you stammer, playing with his fingers absentmindedly. “We could do something fun.”
“If you make it out of bed tomorrow, then you’ve got yourself a deal,” Tommy laughs, shooting you a familiar wink that makes your heart melt.
“So, tomorrow then?” you ask, voice barely a whisper as your head rests comfortably against the car window. With the hum of the engine and the warmth of Tommy’s hand in yours, you find your eyes pulling closed with fatigue.
Just as you are about to drift off to sleep, you hear a soft voice beside you say, “Tomorrow, it is.”
Masterlist
#honestly idk if this made sense#or was what you had in mind#but i thought it was kinda cute#writing#the dirt#the dirt requests#mgk!tommy lee#mgk x reader#tommy lee x reader#tommy lee#mick mars#vince neil#nikki sixx#motley crue imagine#motley crue#motley crue oneshot#mgk#machine gun kelly#80s
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Anarchy
Author: Randombtsprincessa
Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader (Ft. Jeon Jungkook) (2nd POV)
Words: 16.1k
Genre: Smut/Angst
Summary: A brutal break-up leaves you devoid of inspiration and an enigmatic author helps you see that the best of us have demons.
Warning: Jerk! Jungkook, Bitchiness, Pettiness, Profanity, Dirty Talk, Oral (Both receiving), Unprotected Sex.
A/N: I just love Namjoon!
The last year of college is supposed to be fun and studying in equal parts. It is supposed to be studying all day and letting loose at night in a frat party with your man and your girls and boys.
It isn’t supposed to be sitting in front of your open laptop in the dark room binging on ice cream and Netflix. It isn’t supposed to be ditching your literature thesis and novel – two of the most important things to you to get out of college – because you were uninspired.
It definitely wasn’t supposed to be your best friend letting herself in to your apartment to find you in your hiding place – vulnerable in pajamas, wrapped in a fluffy blanket.
“Y/N,” she sighed, dropping her bags on the coffee table with an ominous thud as she began to move around your usually tidy apartment with lithe steps.
You watched her warily while she opened windows to let in the cool night breeze, shook out the curtains, kicked away tossed clothes and take out containers and then come over to stand next to you, hands on hips and lips pursed.
“Did you even move since the morning?” Yerin asked.
You shrugged. What did it matter if you moved or not? What did it matter if you did anything at all?
“Y/N,” she sighed again, looking around the dark room again before her manicured fingers reached out and did the unthinkable.
She switched on the light switch.
Brightness flooded the living room, harsh and unfamiliar to your delicate eyes as you let out a wild yelp, ducking under your blanket to protect yourself.
“Hell, Y/N, this isn’t healthy!” Yerin said from somewhere overhead even as you stayed buried in your soft darkness, tipping your body over to lie on the floor, pitiful whines falling from your mouth. Your brain fought hard, trying to infuse some sense into your aching heart, reasoning with claws and fangs.
“I know, Yerin, ok? I know this is horrible and filthy and that I smell and that probably everyone in class thinks I’m dead or something…maybe pregnant.” You wailed.
Try as she may, Yerin couldn’t help rolling her eyes at her best friend.
“No one thinks you’re dead or pregnant, Y/N. they know what happened, they know you need time.” She cajoled before biting her lip as you emerged, a furious scowl on your face.
“Oh, so everyone knows I got dumped? Great, Yerin, that’s just great, it’s just what I fucking need.” You snapped before picking your decrepit self off the floor, blanket still wrapped around you as you made your way into the kitchen to put the ice cream container in the refrigerator.
Yerin followed, mentally slapping herself for letting it slip that everyone on campus knew about your heartbreak.
“They don’t mean to be mean, Y/N. I’m just saying that people will understand.” She tried again.
You did not reply. What came instead was a soft sniffle that immediately made Yerin rush to the girl, wrapping slender arms around the hunched figure.
“I just don’t understand…” you hiccupped, “why he would do this.”
“He’s a jerk, Y/N. a jerk who did not deserve you…at all.” Yerin whispered, her grip tightening on you as you thought back to the day your loving boyfriend of 3 years decided he did not want to be with you after all, that there was plenty of fish in the ocean that he needed to try out before he settled down…that you were just not enough anymore.
“I saw Jungkook in class today, Y/N…he didn’t seem to be doing too good,” Yerin ventured slowly.
You shook even more, triggered at the mention of your boyfriend’s name…no, ex boyfriend’s name. Yerin was right. If Jungkook didn’t love you enough to keep it in his pants, then he did not deserve you…and you weren’t about to be sympathetic to the man who hurt and left you at a time you needed him the most.
His betrayal went deep. Not only were you crippled by the pressure in your heart, it was wrecking your life at college. You should be in classes, writing assignments, working on the novel you were going to try and get published after graduation. You weren’t supposed to be bedridden or hidden in a mass of blankets binging food and movies.
Jungkook had effectively destroyed you and he did not get to feel sad after shattering your heart, life, hopes and dreams.
“Y/N…?” Yerin asked softly, trying to jolt you out of your stiff countenance but you vigorously shook your head.
“I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to care anymore.” you whispered harshly, more of an order to your own self than an assurance to her.
Yerin stared for a while before nodding.
“You got it, beautiful. Let’s go get your life back.” She whispered as you wrapped your own arms around her.
Morning dawned a little too fast for your liking; sunlight pouring from your window and brushing against your closed eyelids, prompting you to roll over on your back with a disgruntled groan.
Unbidden, Yerin’s words from last night flooded your mind and you sat up slowly, blanket pooling around your waist as you gathered your bearings about you.
Jungkook and you had broken up. You had mourned that relationship while it lasted for long enough. You couldn’t stay cooped up in your apartment forever – for one, you needed your degree to work and pay for yourself.
With aggressive affirmations chanting in your mind, you picked yourself up to attend your class.
When you passed through the open doors of the lecture hall, you expected all eyes turn to you with varying degrees of judgment, sympathy or pity like a cheap rom-com but none of that happened…
It was almost as if you had never disappeared off the surface of the world as you made your way to your seat, weaving around the throngs of the chatting students. Yes, one or two turned to glance back at you when they saw you were back but it didn’t faze you all that much until you spotted your seat finally…and the one next to it…occupied by Jungkook.
You stopped mid-step, jostled by the passing students as you stared at the boy in front of you.
Damn, you had forgotten that over the course of your relationship, Jungkook and you had sat next to each other in all the lectures you had together. Thankfully, you only had this last subject remaining for your final year so that made things easy. You wouldn’t have to see him for five consecutive hours.
As you shuffled on your feet, you noticed that Yerin probably hadn’t looked at Jungkook too closely.
He didn’t look too bad. His hair still had that shine he achieved from the most expensive hair gel he could find. He had even changed his clothing. Instead of the usual hoodie and t-shirt, he had donned a fitted leather jacket and a shirt that screamed branded.
You couldn’t help but feel hurt. Jungkook was putting in so much effort to lure in new ‘fish’. Where had that effort been when he had been dating you? Hadn’t you been worth it at all?
Spinning on your heel, you marched towards one of the empty desks near the middle of the class and tapped the person sitting next to the empty one on the shoulder.
“Is this seat taken?” you asked roughly.
The boy widened his eyes at the slightly hostile behavior from you and quickly shook his head. “Thanks,” you huffed, flopping down into the seat and huddling in close as the boy turned to you completely.
“You’re…Y/N, right?” he asked.
You nodded and he cleared his throat. “Sorry about Jeon, you know; I heard about why he broke up with you.” he said. You pursed your lips at the uninvited sympathy but nonetheless offered him a smile.
“Thanks,” you said again.
He nodded. “I’m Taehyung, by the way,” he smiled. “You should know if you’re going to be my partner.” He said before turning to face the front when the professor strode in.
Professor Jung Hoseok was the youngest professor on our campus and the dream boat of almost all the females in the vicinity. Not only was he good looking; with dark hair parted neatly to give him that scholarly look, gold rimmed glasses that reflected light when he put them on and a sunny smile that lit up the room, he was a verifiable literature genius; able to recite sonnets and complicated Latin couplets that would make our lunch lady swoon.
Still, no matter how much of a heartthrob he was for the university, Jung was stern and a scary perfectionist. He never became overbearing but he was known to push people till they achieved their potential. He was a big name in the publishing world for this very reason.
Naturally, you had to please him if you wanted to make it in the field.
Mr. Jung stopped at his desk before casting a keen glance over the class, dark eyes sharp without his glasses. With a single wave of his hand, he acknowledged our greetings and began to get to work.
Switching on the projector and laptop, he pulled on his glasses, the rim glowing in the silver light of the projector as a picture of a blank paper.
He cleared his throat.
“Ok so class, what do you see here?” he asked.
“A blank page,” someone called from the back.
“Good, why do you think I have this on here?” he asked.
There was silence.
Mr. Jung circled the desk to stand at the front. “Come on, class, this is creative writing, use your imagination.” He said.
“To…tell a story…?” a voice floated.
He grinned.
“Correct, but not quite…it’s not for me to tell the story…it is for you.”
You froze in your seat.
“Now, we have forty five minutes. I want you to write me something in thirty minutes. Do this and you can leave fifteen minutes early.” He clapped his hands twice and returned to his desk, sitting down and fiddling on the keyboard.
Taehyung turned to me, a sheepish smile on his face.
“Wow, not what I expected today, I’m so out of it.”
You snorted mentally. Yeah, says you who have had zero inspiration for weeks now…
Even as people turned in their sheets to Mr. Jung and filed out, Taehyung included you nervously stayed back until you saw Jungkook pass by, sheet of paper clutched in his hand.
You watch as he hands in over to Mr. Jung before walking out, hiking the strap of his bag higher up on his leather clad shoulder.
Finally realizing that you were the only student left in the class, you stood up shakily, taking in a deep breath for stabilization as you shuffled over to him.
Mr. Jung looked up expectantly.
“Ah, Y/N, yes, I’m looking forward to your work.” He smiled.
There was a pause as you guiltily looked down. “I…don’t have anything, sir.”
He frowned immediately. “I beg your pardon?”
“I couldn’t do it…”
Mr. Jung frowned at you as he glanced around the empty class again.
“Its fine, Miss Y/L/N, its creativity, sometimes it takes time to come. Don’t beat yourself up about it. I have a class in another fifteen minutes. I would like you to come to my office at the end of college hours.” He said briskly, snapping the laptop shut.
You nodded before turning, leaving the room.
By the time the end of workday strolled by, you were nervous and sweating at what Jung was going to tell you. was he going to tell you he was taking away your assignments from you? was he going to sideline your book?
Veritably trembling, you knocked twice on the frosted glass of Mr. Jung’s office and entered at the soft ‘come in’.
At your appearance, Mr. Jung smiled.
“Y/N, good, good, have a seat,” he said, indicating a chair in front of his desk and you plopped down, biting your lips as he steeped his fingers together, eyeing you speculatively.
“Now, do you want to discuss what has you in such a dump?” he asked.
You stumbled. “S-sir?” you asked.
“Miss Y/L/N, I’m not that much older than you…I’ve been where you are just a few years ago. I know an inspiration leak when I see one…” he said.
You stayed still, spluttering wordlessly at him.
“In professional terms, we call it a writer’s block.” He gently murmured before tapping at his laptop.
“You have been absent in class for the past week, I doubt you have done your assignment and I have received no updates on your book. As a man close to your age, I can sympathize but as your teacher who reports to superiors of his own, I have to interfere in due course, Miss Y/L/N.” he said.
You looked down, trying to blink back disappointed tears before you were spouting out your side of the story to your professor about how Jungkook broke your heart, how he was parading around his good looks in your direct line of sight and how you couldn’t move from your floor for days and the fact that some part of you still believed that Jungkook could come back to you after having his fill of ‘fresh fish’.
Was it stupid of you to consider taking him back? Of course, but who cared?
“However, as a man and your teacher who sees potential in you and believes that you can get past it and wants to help you, I can say that I am willing to give you some help.”
You looked up quickly at that as he gave you another quick smile of pity.
“I’ll give you an extension on that assignment and in return I want you to start working on your book along with it. If you can submit the assignment in two days and its good enough, I will help you on your book.” He said.
You shot up from your desk.
“I won’t disappoint you, sir. I promise to submit it by then,” you said, taking his wave of acknowledgement as your dismissal as you rushed off to get to work on 2500 words worth of an assignment.
On the day of reckoning, I watched as Jung walked among the desks taking in the assignments before he was stopping at mine – still next to Taehyung – and quirking an eyebrow. I slipped the folder into his waiting palm and watched his lips twitch a little before he moved on.
At the end of the class he stood up, “Miss Y/N, kindly stay back,” he said as everyone filed out.
I stood up to go to his desk when my elbow collided with someone while swinging my bag on to my shoulder. “Oh sorry!” you said quickly, only to see it was Jungkook, who looked startled to see you.
Yeah, did he forget you and him go to the same classes?
“No…no worries, Y/N,” he said shakily before he was slinking past you, hurriedly walking out the door.
You sighed, walking quickly to Mr. Jung’s desk, hoping that he hadn’t seen that exchange.
“Very good, Y/N, this looks promising, I’d say you have earned help on that book of yours fair and square.” He said a rare wide smile on his face.
You smiled back, rubbing your hands a little to warm the excited numb feeling in your fingers as he pulled out his wallet and picked out a paper from one of the compartments, handing it to you.
“I spoke to one of my friends about helping you on the book; Writing, editing, the works. He’s an author himself, so he knows all the tricks. Maybe you’ve heard of him? His name is Kim Namjoon.” He said.
You wracked your mind. “Is he the one who wrote The Real Me?” You asked. You remembered seeing the book on the shelves of your favorite book store but you had been too swamped with studies to afford buying a new book.
“Yes, he recently came back from an abroad trip and I know he doesn’t have any works in progress at the moments as Real Me is still making the rounds. He’s one of my best friends and he agreed to take a look at your work. He’s going to be at that café at the time I’ve written down and I included the number just in case. I hope this helps you, Y/N. I expect you to be on your best behavior with him as well.” He said.
You nodded fervently, profusely thanking the lucky stars for giving you this opportunity.
That weekend, you arrived bright and early at the meet up place Jung had written down for you and nervously waited for anyone to approach the table you were sitting at. You’d already done a sweep of the place to make sure you were the only one sitting alone so there would be no mistaken identities and had looked him up online.
Kim Namjoon was twenty four years old, fresh out of college and published by one of the most prestigious companies in the business, Bulletproof Co. He was tall, handsome and always well dressed, in suits or preppy shirts and sweaters. You had zoomed on his face to make sure you had the correct guy and even underneath the thick rimmed black square glasses or the occasional sunglasses, you could see the softness lingering in his sharp good looks; be it in the plumpness of his lips, the round, dimpled cheeks or the slant under his eyes.
You switched to his book details to see informed and you had to say, you were pretty impressed.
The Real Me was a philosophical and psychological revelation. It started with recounting real life instances of people’s lives and how Namjoon himself had felt them; failure, pressure of success, silver spooning and finally heartbreak.
It ended with the realization that everything came and went and that the furnace which life lit for a person would indirectly forge them into a better person…and if they were lucky, they might be able to find their true selves in that journey as well.
“Miss Y/L/N?”
You looked over your shoulder to see the man in a large black hat and shades standing at your chair, head cocked to one side.
“Um, yes, that would be me,” you said.
The man nodded, moving to sit in front of you before he was removing his hat and glasses, placing them neatly on top of each other to a side of the round table.
“I’m Kim Namjoon; Jung Hoseok came to me about you.” he said, finally looking up to meet your studious eyes.
The Kim Namjoon in the pictures did no justice to the real life Kim Namjoon, you realized. He wasn’t as lean, the tall frame wrapped in muscles that bulged in the tightness of his clothes. The black jeans showed strong thighs, biceps flexing under the movement of his coat sleeve as he removed it, tossing it over the back of his chair. The simple plaid shirt underneath, made him look like a normal guy, not the suited bestseller author you’d seen online.
You realized he was waiting for a reply while you were staring at him so you quickly lowered your gaze.
“Yes, yes he did, he said you’d be able to help me with my book.” You said quietly.
“I could, of course, but I would like to know what exactly it is you need help with.” He said.
“Um, the writing and editing thing,” you mumbled as Namjoon nodded to a passing waiter who came to take your orders. While you asked for a simple milkshake, he went for a black coffee with the House Special Blend.
While the orders were done, he turned back to you. “I’m a little confused. Hoseok is your creative writing professor, isn’t he? He has much more of a name in the world than I do for these kinds of things. Why not just go to him?”
“He’s my teacher,” you said as the waiter placed your drinks in front of you and left. “I cannot ask him to push for me with the publishers. All that would be appropriate for him to do would be to give me a letter of recommendation. I need someone who can actually tell me what to do to get my work in print. Who better to do that than an already published writer?” you asked.
Namjoon smiled knowingly, turning his cup with his index finger.
“Ah, Hoseok…he always knew his little tricks.” He murmured before looking at you.
“What did you mean by helping you write?” he shot.
The question as always made you stiffen and then blush in embarrassment. “Yeah, that…um, I’m having a little bit of a…inspiration leak.” You said, quoting Jung.
“Writer’s block,” Namjoon said bluntly before shaking his head.
“I don’t know Miss Y /L /N; you seem like a good investment to me. Bright, well spoken and everything…plus you come with Hoseok’s recommendation and he doesn’t recommend just anyone…but I’m worried about the slump you’re in. I can’t help you if you cannot write. I cannot write your book for you, you see.”
“Oh but please, Mr. Kim, I mean, Mr. Jung gave me two days to finish his assignment and I managed that so I guess desperation works best for pulling me out of my slump. I’m not going to ask you to write anything for me. I just need you to guide me,” you said quickly.
Namjoon contemplated.
“Fine, tell me about what you’re writing…while I think about it,” he brought his cup up his thick lips to take a sip.
You took a sip of your own drink.
“The book is about struggle, something I think you’re familiar with.” You said and Namjoon tilted his head at you, an impressed look in his eyes.
“You read my book…did you grasp it well?”
“The basics, but I think I should get a chance to share our own pieces as well.” You said.
Namjoon smirked.
“Fair enough, I think I’d like to see what piece it is you want to share with the world. Bring me five hundred words tomorrow.” He said before placing his empty cup on the table and standing up, collecting his belongings.
“Where?” you asked.
“You have a writer’s block, what better place to go but to the park? see me near the small pond where they used to keep duck at 10.” He said.
The disused duck pond was the perfect spot, you realized, sitting on one of the fairly stronger benches as you waited for Namjoon, early again to maintain good impressions.
Your five hundred words were in your lap, a page full of masked demons, loss of self, and a maze of a journey with no outing.
“You have a habit of being early,” you heard from behind you.
A glance to your side, told you that Namjoon had arrived, this time looking like one of his pictures. A white button down, black slacks and blazer with his thick rimmed glasses, his silvery dark blond hair caught the dull morning sun as he sat down beside you, holding out a hand that you placed your homework on.
He sifted through it before tucking the page into one of his inside pockets. He crossed his arms as he bit on his lips.
“Did you read my book?” he asked.
“I told you; I read up on a bit online but I couldn’t complete it. I was busy studying to pass my course.” You said.
“I see; that’s what you say, Miss Y/L/N, but that isn’t what an editor or a publisher is going to say. It isn’t even what I’m going to say. What you’ve written…it’s like you’re holding up a mirror to what I have written in my book.” He said.
You gaped at him. “Are you saying I copied you? Because I did not; I mean yeah the premises are similar but the…”
“The premises, prose, writing style, even some of the wordings…they are all similar, Miss Y/L/N. I told you yesterday, I cannot write your book for you.”
“You aren’t though,” you said.
“You told me that you have a piece to share with the world. I liked that and I also like the piece but it isn’t…you. The girl I have seen in these two days is not the one I’m seeing reflected in this piece of paper.” He said, turning to face me as he scanned the confusion on my face.
“A writer needs to have a voice. This voice is what communicates to your readers. Sometimes, they might see themselves as you, try to relate as you…sometimes you try to relate to them, become them…in all these situations your audience needs to be able to see you, hear you, feel you in your words…if you can’t make your readers understand your essence through your work, what is the point of conveying messages to them? What is the point of writing? Just to get royalties…? Be rich and able to buy stuff…? Or do you actually want to be able to make a difference, no matter how small?” he said.
You sat there, watching over the pond as you contemplated his words.
“I want to make a difference.” You mumbled.
“Good, but you’re not going to do it by sounding like me. Try sounding like yourself. Tell me, what is it that you have on your mind right now? What’s driving you? Write about that. You are important to yourself and if you believe that, you can make your readers believe it too. So, tell me, Y/N…what do you feel?” he said.
“Um…I feel…desperation mostly, because I really need this. I want to be out in the world and if I wait till I graduate I will never get it done. I’m…sad I suppose…I just went through a break up because my boyfriend thinks he’s too young to settle down and needs to fuck others to decide.” You ranted.
You stopped before grinning sheepishly at him.
“Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about that.”
“I’m a reader, Miss Y/L/N. if you can tell me a story, I’m willing to listen.” He mumbled, his body turning to you as he made himself comfortable.
Stumbling a little, you gave him exactly what he wanted…you told him a story about Jungkook.
When you were done, your eyes were distant, pools of amber and onyx lush with unshed memories as you recalled the way you’d disbelievingly watched your guiltless boyfriend leave you life, heart and apartment.
Namjoon was quiet as he let you finish before you sighed, turning to look at him again.
“Allow me to say this, Miss Y/L/N; you may not agree with me with your present mindset but you should use your heartbreak as a strength.” He turned to face the pond again.
“I’ve had my fair share of failures at love and I admit I had a bitter view of it for a long time but over time it changed. I have settled to believe that it is a necessary evil nowadays. You cannot avoid it in life. You will always see it, on the street, in a restaurant, in a park but you have the choice to be hateful towards it or you can take your chances and turn it into art – no matter how tragic it seems.” He gave you a bleak smile.
“You have a strange world view Mr. Kim Namjoon,” you whispered.
“I hope so…the woman who broke my heart had a habit of telling me I should stick to the mainstream. When we ended, I made it my mission to go the opposite way of everything she stood for. Now I am a successful author. Maybe you can do it too and in a few years, you won’t even remember this Jungkook.”
“You still remember her, don’t you?” you asked.
“Well, yes, but then it’s ok if you remember your past loves. All you have to make sure you remember is that they are not the people you once fell in love with. It seems unfair to go to that much trouble and yes, I will steer clear of her if I see her which tends to happen because we are in the same business, I still don’t hold myself inferior enough to beguile her existence as long as she is not beguiling mine.”
“That takes guts.” You said bluntly, making Namjoon laugh.
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it? I think I got what I wanted across to you. Think about what I said and the next time we see each other I want a thousand words. I’ll text you when I’m free next.” He said, standing up and offering me his hand to shake.
“Until next time, Y/N,”
You shook his hand, “See you, Mr. Kim,”
He buttoned his blazer and made to turn before giving you one parting glance.
“Y/N,”
“Yeah?”
“Call me Namjoon.”
You’d known Namjoon for a month now and while he still remained an enigma to you mostly, you were happy to say that he was an enigma you could call him your friend.
Over the time that you’d known him, he had given you more insight into a writer’s mentality, reader reception and what publishers usually were looking for.
All of these guides were helpful but somehow along the way, you had started to crave more of how you felt around him rather than just the way he helped you along.
Namjoon had a very soothing presence, almost lulling you into tranquility while you were with him as he took you on walks and trips to places where no one was present. It would’ve seemed creepy if not for the fact that you trusted him explicitly in the short amount of time you’d known him. Besides he’d already warned you of his ways of detaching you from the world in the way that you could find yourself.
In these solitary places, he said, where no one was around to see you and judge you, you could be yourself, think of yourself, see things for yourself, wander inside yourself.
Did it seem melodramatic? Probably, but it did help.
Your mind was clearer…it helped you submit finals much easier and even as you were picked valedictorian by a beaming Jung Hoseok, you made it a point to thank him for helping you.
He characteristically waved it away. “I knew Namjoon would’ve been a great help to you. He was like you, you know, when we were in college. Same sort of thoughts, same proclivity towards philosophy…even the same, forgive me, naivety towards love.” He said.
“His ex?” you guessed and he nodded.
“She was a real piece of work. On the surface you’d think she was a godsend – sweet, kind, supportive, encouraging…but it wasn’t until she left Namjoon that we found out how sadistically she chewed on him.” Mr. Jung handed you the sash for valedictorian before shaking his head.
“She’s in the past now. So, how’s the book coming?” he asked, changing the subject as you spent the next half hour discussing the changes you’d made to it.
“Seems promising, I’d love to read it once Namjoon’s done with it. Oh and, our university is hosting a fund raiser for on campus personnel, Y/N. Many editors and publishers are going to be there. I know for a fact a few of your classmates have a few professors backing them. Would you be interested?” he asked.
“Um…is it appropriate?” you asked.
Jung shrugged.
“I don’t see why not. I am writing your letter of recommendation. What good is it going to do if you don’t have someone to show it to?”
“Oh,” you laughed, “Makes sense, I’ll try and be there.”
“Fantastic…oh and Y/N, I know this will sound strange but try to get Namjoon to attend…lord knows the man needs to get out more.”
By the time you emailed Namjoon about the fund raiser he’d already been logged in for a book signing and had to refuse, sending in a best of luck instead.
Yerin had come over, doing her best to make you look presentable. For all her knowledge of pop culture trivia, your best friend was hopeless with a hairbrush and even though you teased her for it, you were more than grateful as she tried to put your hair in an up-do by watching a YouTube tutorial.
“It’s just a fund raiser, Yerin. Don’t give yourself an aneurysm.” You said, watching her struggle with bobby pins and she threw you a look. “A fund raiser where your potential boss could be scouting talent; try looking your best, ok… There are going to be a lot of big shots there.” She said.
And a lot of big shots were present at the fund raiser…
Your dress swirled around your knees as you examined the Great Hall of the university where the event was taking place in awe. You wouldn’t have recognized it in daylight as shimmering chandeliers hung in alternative skylights.
Namjoon would’ve liked to be here, you thought, surprising yourself.
Normally, you wouldn’t be thinking of people like this and how they would appreciate…but you supposed that Namjoon just had that kind of aura of deriving pleasure from seemingly mundane things and that had struck a chord in you.
“Ah, Miss Y/L/N, you made it,” you saw your headmaster, Mr. Sihyuk draw closer to you with Mr. Jung and you smiled, nodding at them. “The hall looks great, sir.” You said and Mr. Sihyuk grinned.
“It does, doesn’t it? You have the Art department to thank for that. I see Hoseok is backing you this year, very well very well. Make sure to make us all proud, Miss Y/L/N.” he said, patting Jung on the back and leaving to greet the other guests.
Mr. Jung sighed.
“You have no idea how pretentious this backing thing can get, Y/N.” he said, taking a sip from his flute. “Namjoon is signing books right now. He should’ve been here. He’d have merged right in.” He rolled his eyes before shaking his head.
“Don’t mind me, I’m just feeling frustrated from all the exam corrections…go and mingle Y/N, you’ll need the connections in a couple weeks.” He said, giving you a bleak smile before walking away.
Your smile faded away a little as you looked around the people talking. They all seemed to already know each other beforehand. There was no way your little anxious self was going up to someone and just introduce yourself.
As you backed up a little, you felt someone’s elbow catch you and you gasped, turning to apologize just as the woman turned too.
Pale, slender and beautiful, she grabbed your arm, a sheepish smile blossoming on her smooth deep pink lips as she quickly pulled you towards her.
“I’m so sorry! I am a complete klutz in heels, I swear.” She said.
Closer, she was even beautiful, flawless even as she tilted her head back a little to laugh.
“No, no, I should’ve seen where I was going.” You corrected quickly and the girl blushed prettily.
“That wouldn’t have helped. If I’m meant to hit someone, I usually do hit them.”
You giggled at her and she beamed. “Come on, join me, I have a feeling we’re going to get along really well. I’m Seulgi.” She said, tugging you after her to one of the empty table.
“I’m Y/N.” you said as she plucked two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed you one, plopping down on the chair and letting out a soft moan of relief.
“Thank god, these things were killing me,” she said.
“I know right, my best friend told me to wear flat just because she knows I can’t stay in heels for long.” You told her.
She sighed, “I wish my friends were that smart, but alas, I happen to be the expert in these things. You’d think I’d be wearing flats but come on, heels make you look great.” She gushed.
After a few more glasses, you and Seulgi were still at the table, talking about future prospects and past experiences alike. She was the assistant of one of the editors and you recalled that Publishing House had worked with Namjoon. Funny how that was how you would remember someone…You even talked about douche bag exes and she tutted at the way Jungkook had treated you.
“That, honey, is why men are pigs. No matter how much you love them, they still cannot think clear past their dicks. Was he hot, though?” she asked.
“Oh, very,” you mumbled, thinking of the doe eyes that would turn to dark and hooded and the half smirk that could itself made you want to crawl over him. You didn’t have to see his body to think him hot but he somehow had that as well.
“Well, as long as you tapped that good and nice.” She said and you choked on your drink, bursting out laughing.
“What about you? Any douches in your life?” you asked, quickly diverting your new friend from Jungkook.
“Hmm, a few…there was particularly one though…he wasn’t a douche…we just didn’t see things the same way. If you asked him, he’d say I was trying to hold him back…” he laughed, “typical excuse, right? I just wanted him to make big and be safe, you know. I loved him.” She said.
You shook your head. “Well, I guess you’re better off without him.”
She smiled. “That’s what I keep telling myself.” She whispered.
When you finally came back home, late and with Seulgi’s number added to your phone with promises to see each other again that you thought nothing of, you wandered into your room to see Yerin was still waiting there.
She had passed out in your bed, hair sprawled around her like a halo, arms tucked neatly under her and you smiled fondly at her before tucking her in and going out with your phone and to browse a bit before you went to bed. There awaiting in your inbox was a small text from Namjoon asking you if you were free tomorrow and that he’d like to take you for a movie he’d been aiming to watch but didn’t have free time to go until today.
For a reason unbeknownst to you, the small message brought a smile to your face as you typed and sent in a yes.
The next day when you opened the door at six, you were surprised to see Namjoon standing at your doorstep without his usual effects of hat, sunglasses and coat. He was in a simple long sleeved black shirt and grey jeans, his hair mussed artfully which made you question why it was fair for people to look that good while you had to spend half an hour in front of a mirror.
“Hey,” he said a dimpled smile on his face. “How was the fund raiser?”
“Hmm, it was good, met a few interesting people,” you replied as you locked your door, following him to his car. He held the passenger door open for you and when you slipped in you found the tickets already on the dash in front of you. You picked it up turning them to see the name, expecting to find some documentary only to be surprised again.
“A scary movie, really?” you threw at him as he got in and started the car.
“Yeah, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing, I was just expecting something more like…you know, a guy on top of a hill talking about aliens or something like that.” You teased.
Namjoon rolled his eyes.
“I do have a life outside of my profession, Miss Y/L/N. it might not always seem like it; but it’s been known to happen.” He griped as you chuckled.
The ride to the cinema seemed shorter with him recounting his short history with Horror. He had only seen five in his time but he’d read a lot about them. Something about the visuals already created for him made him relax his mind, he explained, which was why most people probably preferred movies over books. After a long day, they didn’t need to spend time imagining things.
“Which is your favorite?” you asked, standing next to him as he got popcorn.
“This is going to sound so cliché to you…it’s the Exorcist.” He mumbled, slipping his wallet back into his pocket and handing you the tub and your drink.
“Oh my god, yes it does,” you said.
“Oh come on, it has blasphemy, levitation and my personal favorite, projectile vomiting.” He grinned.
“So, you’re into those kind of things?” you shoved at him and he stuttered over his words, ears reddening.
“No, I just meant…let’s just watch the movie.” He grunted, quickly ducking into the dark theatre as you followed, howling with laughter.
Even with the movie playing, you could tell that Namjoon was overcompensating.
His eyes were nearly squinting, ready to close at any jump scare of gruesome scene in the Slash movie. You stretched out your hand and gripped his free one.
“It’s just a movie, Joon.” The nickname falling from your lips easily, as he turned to look at you, eyes wide before looking down at your hands as he returned the grip, twice as hard.
“I know, I’m fine.” He said.
You’d have agreed with him if he hadn’t been holding your hand like a bear trap but you stayed mum before jumping yourself the next moment at a jump scare. Only it wasn’t because of the appearance of the hooded and masked killer, it was because Namjoon nearly shot up from his seat and threw himself across the room, taking you with him.
Even as the main protagonist fell on the stairs with the killer in pursuit, the lights came on and Namjoon and you both visibly deflated, slumping against the seats in relief.
“Thank god,” you said as he quickly stood up, your hand still in his and began to walk through the aisles, heading outside.
“Namjoon, promise me one thing.” You said, blinking in the bright lights. “That’s one sequel we are not watching.” You said.
Namjoon chuckled, dropping your hand. “Agreed…do you mind? I’ll just be a minute.” He said, tilting his head towards the men’s room and you nodded.
You’d just sat down on the bench near the lobby when you felt him.
Your shoulders stiffened, body tensed and mouth went dry even as days later of enduring heartbreak because of him, your body responded to him like a live wire. You turned slowly, eyeing him.
He was dressed in fitted leather again, you noted, hands deep in the pocket of his jacket as he stared at you.
“What do you want?” you snapped finally.
Jungkook sighed as he took a step closer to you. “I just wanted to see you. I haven’t seen you…for such a long time.” He said.
“Did you…follow me or something?” you asked.
“No, I just…I brought Rosie here…” he mumbled.
I closed my mouth. He was on a date…he was on a fucking date. I wanted to tell him to go to hell but he was speaking again.
“That time in class I just…you looked at me and I…I remembered when you used to look at me…it was so different, like you didn’t know me anymore. I felt, I don’t know, I guess I felt hurt but then I brushed it off but then I saw that you were here with that guy and I…I feel angry, I feel jealous. I’m not supposed to feel like that, I know. I have no right.”
“You’d be right about that.” You spat at him.
“I don’t know who you are anymore. You left me, you’re on a date. You can’t feel jealous or angry because I might be on one too. You lost all right to do that when you stopped loving me.”
“I didn’t stop loving you. I still love you…and I know it might be a little late now but I meant it when I said you’re it for me,” he said, taking another step towards you and you stumbled back, already weakening. He had always taken you in so easily.
“Yeah, well, sorry to burst your bubble buddy, but you’re definitely not it for her.” Another voice, deeper and stronger sounded behind him and you glanced over his shoulder to see Namjoon. Even though they were nearly the same height, Namjoon towered over Jungkook as he walked towards you, entangling his fingers with yours, body angled almost protectively in front of you.
Jungkook returned the look evenly.
“Look dude, I don’t know who you are but I think I know what I’m talking about. Your one date isn’t trumping my three years.” He said, shrugging.
“You’re right, it won’t. You breaking up with her because you wanted to fuck around, now that’s going to trump a whole lot more that just three years.”
You looked at Namjoon, the first time you’d heard him say anything as crude as ‘fuck’.
“Just stay away from my girlfriend.” He continued, shoving past a stunned Jungkook and pulling you with him.
Namjoon didn’t let go of your hand till you were at his car and he was pushing you in and getting in himself, driving off with his jaw clenched.
You sat there, eyes still blown wide open as you processed what had just happened. You let out a loud groan, burying your head in your hands, cursing. “Oh god, I am so sorry.” You lamented.
Namjoon turned to give you a bewildered look. “What are you sorry for? Out of all of us, you’re the last one who should be apologizing.”
“But…but…I just stood there and let him talk over me,” you said.
“That wasn’t your fault. It’s natural you still feel a little out of balance around him. That has everything to do with the fact that you need to get used to being around him and nothing to do with you or your feeling, understand?” he asked and you nodded slowly.
Namjoon tightened his hold on the wheel. “I hate people like him.” He grunted.
You glanced at him.
“People who…I don’t know how to explain it in proper terms…the people who get in relationships one after the other. They are the weakest people. Especially, the ones who use the power they have over you for their own sick purposes. That guy was just trying to protect the one territory he was sure he’d always claim over. The moment he thought you might be in danger of backing out of his ball court he came back to play with you. That…that kind of person sickens me.”
This was the longest you’d ever heard Namjoon rant about anything and you couldn’t help but reach out for his hand. He gave it you slowly and you squeezed it.
“Thank you,” you said sincerely before letting him go, looking out the window while he returned his hand to the wheel, slower still.
“Where are we going?” you asked suddenly realizing you couldn’t recognize the neighborhood.
“Uh…I’m taking you to my place. Damn, I completely forgot.” He said but you shook your head.
“It’s ok. I can’t say I haven’t been curious about your house.” You said. He smiled at you softly before taking a turn into a driveway.
Namjoon’s apartment was on the other side of the lavish apartment complex, meaning he had a fantastic view of the cityscape which at this time of night twinkled from the floor length French windows, leading to the terrace.
He flipped on switches along the way to illuminate the way as he sighed - obviously homily. It was a sigh you knew well. It was one you heaved when you entered the comfort and isolated silence of your own apartment, the quiet blanketing you.
You watched from the foyer as Namjoon walked to a large wooden dresser in the living room, taking his wallet and phone and placing it on them neatly before running his hands through his hair, messing it up even more before he glanced at you.
“You don’t have to stand there like that, Y/N. Come on in,” he said.
You walked over to him and looked around you while Namjoon watched you.
Namjoon’s home, though luxurious and tastefully decorated in warm, earth tones, it was still sparse, slightly bare.
“You don’t have a lot of things in the house.” You noted.
Namjoon shrugged, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “I have a few things I got on the trips I have taken; Mostly collectibles and figurines or books.”
“You collect toys?” you smirked at him.
“Figurines,” he corrected, scoffing at you. “But you’re right, I don’t like having a lot of things around me…it feels like I cluttering myself.” He said.
“Sometimes, a lot of things means you take comfort from them.” You said, remembering the trinkets you had back at your place and the memory connected to each of them.
He didn’t say anything and you moved to a wall where he’d hung up pictures of himself with his friends and family.
A few of them were with whom you guessed was his mother, she looked like him as they took a picture in a café or in a park. The ones with who he told you were his father were more formal, suited, even though he looked like a kid or a teenager. Another couple was with his younger sister, identical smiles on their faces.
The rest of them – with his friends – were haphazard.
In some of them he was clearly in college, his hair styled differently, a more easy air around him as he took silly photos. One of them he was probably at a concert, hair spiked up with yellow sunglasses and next to him was…
“Is that Mr. Jung?” you nearly screeched, drawing Namjoon’s quiet attention. He chuckled as he came to stand behind you.
“Yeah, we were really into the pop music thing then.” he explained.
“Oh my, I wish I could tease him about it,” you said.
“You can after you graduate, you all seem friendly enough.” He said.
You hummed, moving towards the window when he cleared his throat.
“I owe you an apology as well.” He said.
You looked at him. “For what?”
He looked down at his feet, hand rubbing his neck. “I took a leap back there, calling you my girlfriend like that. I shouldn’t have taken the liberty to do that.” He said.
“Oh, its fine, Jungkook backed off.” You said.
“There were better way to do that. I took advantage.” He said.
“Namjoon…really, it’s ok. Neither of you are going to see each other again. I doubt the topic will come back up again.” You said.
“You’re too good to me,” Namjoon argued.
“Not at all,” you cut in. “The truth is…I’m not good at all. If I were, he’d have never left in the first place. if I was good, I…I don’t know…I just don’t…but if I was even a fraction good, I’d deserve someone like you…but I don’t.” you sighed, letting the bitterness and sadness pit together in your throat and flow out.
There was a long silence as you looked through the glass at the twinkling city lights.
You could feel him behind you, close enough to brush against if you turned, the warmth of his breath ruffling the top of your head.
“You deserve the universe, Y/N.” he whispered finally, his breath tickling your ear, “and I’m just a tiny speck in it, but you deserve everything you hope for.”
You took in a deep breath, trying to ease the sudden wobbliness you felt inside you as you turned to face him but he was already pressing up against you, his eyes fluttering close as his hands found your shoulders, pressing you against the glass.
Your head tilted up on its own, mouth parting to let out a gentle gasp that he took as he planted his lips across yours.
Namjoon tasted of popcorn and mints, his lips plush and soft moving softly against yours, barely brushing before he was cocking his head away from you to look at you properly, studying your expression as he so meticulously did.
“Namjoon,” you whispered and he shushed you, long fingers cupping your face and arching you to meet him as he kissed you again, this time deeper and a whole lot more headily.
He craned his neck, tracing you upper lip with soft strokes of his tongue before he nibbled on your lower lip, prompting a shaky gasp. He took the chance to slip his tongue in, running it over yours in gradual flicks and you keened towards him as your back moving from the window. He pressed you harder against it, one of his thighs finding its way between your legs, holding you against it.
You let him overpower you easily, enjoying the way he was circling your mouth, pecking your lips affectionately one second, before diving in and kissing your thoroughly, tongue curving in every crevice and dancing with your own before he went to nipping your swollen lips.
You wound your arms under his shoulder, fingers clutching at them as you felt his leg flex between your legs, a low thud in the pit of your stomach that had you moaning against his plush mouth as you grinded against his muscular leg to relieve some of the delicious burn.
Namjoon pulled away with a growl, looking down at the way you dragged yourself on his leg.
“Fuck, look at that, did I make you that desperate baby?” he asked, his voice raspy and hoarse and dripping with lust.
You answered that with a whimper and you tried to pull him back closer to you but he was already untangling himself from you and walking back, a hand coming up to brush his hair back, looking at your panting form still pressed to the window.
“Walk towards me, baby, slowly.” He said.
Slightly confused, you obeyed, taking somewhat staggering steps towards him which he watched with predatory precision before you realized he was watching your hips.
Stuttering slightly you stood in front of him finally before he was latching on to your waist again, fingers digging into your flesh as he walked backwards, towards what had to be his bedroom.
“I’d carry you, but I want to watch this. You walk like I’ve intoxicated you and it’s so sexy.” He growled, before he was reaching back to open the door. He pulled you through and went to the side before a low ambient light came on, illuminating the room.
“Wow,” you said first thing as you saw his bedroom, making him chuckle darkly.
The room was comfort and opulence in one world. A long closet took an entire wall with a huge writing desk under one of the windows. What took the spotlight was the bed.
King sized, high off the ground and plushy heaven, the bed was THE bed…the kind you saw in magazines and lamented your own over it.
You felt him return to you as he brushed your hair back from your shoulder, mouth hovering over the curve as he let warm breath waft over your skin. “Like?” he asked, softly.
“Love,” you answered and he chuckled again. “Good, because you aren’t going anywhere else tonight.” He said, his mouth latching on to your shoulder, sucking in a pulsating rhythm.
You close your eyes at the feeling, letting him move his hands on your body; brushing over your hips, around your waist, up the sides before he was cupping your breasts, squeezing gently. You dropped your head on his shoulder as he began to gently sway you, fingers tapping and teasing your nipples over the fabric of your shirt. His lips curled up in a smile against your skin, grinding his growing erection against the small of your back, demanding attention.
“Namjoon,” you breathed.
“Hmm,”
“Let me taste you,” you continued, turning in his arms and he bit his lips, eyeing your lips before brushing a thumb over your bottom petal. “I’d love to let you, Y/N. Get on your knees,” he said before he was moving away to sit on the bed. You walked towards him again, this time making sure to sway your hips more for his intense gaze as you bent over to give him a kiss first.
Your fingers wrapped under his jaw as you tilted his face up to yours and he let you, kissing teasingly, flicking his tongue against your playfully as you let your hands trail down to his shirt, tugging at it. He broke away to grab the back of the neck before he was pulling it over his head, revealing the smooth expanse of skin. You started to kneel, kissing a line down his chest and he tossed the shirt away, leaning his weight back on his hands as he allowed you to reach his waistband.
Slipping your fingers under it, you glanced at him through your lashes as you undid the button, tugging the two flaps gently to let the zipper down. He examined your actions before he was bucking his hips up and letting you pull his jeans and the top of his briefs down to free him.
His erection slipped out on your hand, warm and twitching at your touch and you licked you lips, unable to take your eyes off it, admiring the girth and the purplish, red head. Glancing at Namjoon again, who was clearly enjoying your awed gaze, you leant closer, your fingers wrapping around the base to squeeze as gently as he’d squeezed your breasts and licked a strip from the base to the tip, before flicking your tongue right at the slit.
Namjoon smirked at the tease before he leant back all the way on his elbows. “Take your time baby, we have the whole night,” he whispered and you grinned at the usage of reverse psychology before you were slowly sinking on him, making a point to give a good, first suck.
His reaction was obvious, the hitch of breath, raising up back to his hands as he looked down at you and the part of his mouth, tongue peeking out to wet his dry lips.
You blinked innocently, focusing on his dick completely as you close your eyes, lavishing your tongue against the now rock hard members, tracing the vein that wrapped around it. Bobbing your head slowly, you felt his hand move in your hair, blunt nails scrapping against your scalp as he tried to tug you further down on his length.
You let him, slowly pushing yourself down till your nose brushed his pelvic bone, the tip running down to touch the tunnel of your throat.
Namjoon grunted, closing his eyes, brows furrowed as you pulled up again, slobbering over his head before your began to run your palm over it, coating your saliva thickly on the member, making sure to squeeze more at the tip and base before your took his in your mouth again, taking him all the way in as he grasped your hair in his fist, the hold tightening as he began to curse when you swallowed around him.
“Fuck, that’s it, that’s it baby,” he said, using his hold to pull you up again.
You sat up on your knees as he cupped your jaw and used the back of his hand to rub off the string of saliva from your mouth as he kissed you again, thoroughly exploring your mouth with his tongue before giving you a sinister smirk.
“My turn, get on the bed and spread your legs over the edge.” He ordered.
You stood up and Namjoon sat up closer to you, quickly undoing your jeans and pulling them down to look at your panties. “Cute,” he smirked at the floral underwear, prompting you to blush but he didn’t tease, pulling you towards the bed and guiding you in the position he wanted.
Your feet hung over the edge of the bed, free to wrap around his as he unbuttoned your shirt, pulling you free from it and unclasped your bra to leave you completely bare in front of him.
When he was finished he didn’t say much, blank facedly roving his eyes on your nakedness before he was dropping to his own knees, spreading your thighs further to expose you to him.
You instinctively shied away and he held your legs open warningly letting his eyes give you a look before he was leaning in to blow air on your touch starved core.
“Ah, Namjoon,” you whispered his name but he didn’t reply, completely engrossed in his work of touching you as he placed a single digit against your clit, making it throb at the pressure of his rough pad.
“Hmm, you get sensitive easily,” he murmured and you nearly whined as he finally began to put himself to work on you.
He was obviously an attentive and observant partner, taking note of how your body writhed or shied away from his ministrations. His tongue pressed experimentally against your fold, dipping into your hole as he let his taste buds collect your arousal before his fingers were spreading your juices over your clit and entrance. He slowly slid in the first digit into your velvet cove before pulling back to slam another in, meticulously watching the way your breath jumped and your body arched, trying to flinch away but his tight hold around your legs kept you in place.
He even watched your wanton moans, sucking your clit into his mouth as he fucked you sadistically you with his fingers, letting your whines pitch up dramatically and then pulling away watching as your chest heaved, breasts juggling from the shivers he’d induced as he edged you repeatedly.
“Please, Namjoon…I can’t…” you groaned finally and he hummed, considering against your folds, thick lips coated in your arousal before he was standing up, fingers still buried deep in your mound as he used his free hand to run his fingers around his lips and chin, sweeping every stroke of your remnant juices on his face into his mouth, sucking perversely on his digits as he eyed you wickedly.
You gulped at the bold act as your pussy clenched in protest around his fingers and he winked, pulling his hand away from your core and he pumped himself, bringing his hips closer to yours, rubbing the tip through your folds which were wet again after the way he’d cleaned you up.
Suddenly, for a split second, clarity shone in his eyes through the lust and he looked at you with something akin to fear.
“Shit…I don’t have condoms,” he said and your own eyes widened.
“What?” you asked.
“I…I haven’t been with anyone since my ex…goddamnit,” he cursed, dropping his head as he ran both hands through his hair.
You hesitated for a bit before biting your lips with another idea. “I’m clean…” you muttered.
Namjoon nodded. “Me too, I got tested after I broke up with her.” He said, clearly thinking that you were implying the oral you’d given and received.
“Is it…ok, if we don’t use them? I’m on birth control...” you murmured, color rising in your cheeks and he looked up, fixing you with an incredulous gaze. “Y/N…”
“I trust you, Joonie.” You whispered, letting your fingers trail down his glimmering chest to his hand, entwining your fingers as you pulled him closer to you, angling your hips towards his.
He staggered closer to you, watching as his dick brushed against your wet folds, still hard and pointing up. He gripped the base, placing the tip right at the entrance of your core before looking at you again.
“Are you sure?” he asked. At you reassuring nod, he closed his eyes, heaving a relieved sigh.
He slipped in quickly inside your heat before halting, eyes opening and fixed on your face as your eyes widened, lips parted and chest rose again from the sharp intake of breath. He grinned, bending over your taut body as he swirled his pink muscle over your hard and aching nipples, using his incisors to place small nips on the top of the buds before coaxing them back into his warm mouth, sucking enthusiastically.
His hips began to pick up pace as he grounded his pelvic bone against your clit for added stimulation with every few strokes.
You arched your back, giving him more access to use his mouth and hands as you raised your arms to clutch at the feather like throw pillows on the bed. You were sure with the slow but steady pace he was going, you were going to lose your damn mind and rip one.
“Namjoon, please,”
He let go of your nipple with a lewd pop as he eyed you, “Please what, baby,” he said and if possible his hips slowed more.
You clutched at his shoulder, letting one slide over to dig in your desperate claws.
“Harder…please…”
Namjoon hissed at your nails but stayed focused, “What do you want from me, baby?”
You were nearly crying now from the inability to reach your high, the release he was dangling in front of you. “Please fuck me harder…I need to come.” You begged finally and he smiled, gently.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
He straightened from your torso, gripping your calves before he was pushing them up to your chest, hands coming up to clench his sheet as he pressed his forehead to your as he began to pound into you, hips slamming into you with wild abandon of a man who’d been un-caged after years.
Your body hiked up with every thrust of his powerful hips and you clung to him, scared you’d shatter with the force of love –making.
Namjoon’s swollen lips kept spewing profanities, broken praises and heavy pants that washed over you as he groaned out your name, dirty promises following of what he wanted to do to you.
“Want – want to feel you – come…on my dick,” he moaned, eyes watching the way his cock pistoned in and out of your now swollen pussy.
His hand trailed down to your cunt, locating your clit between your thighs as he circled it with his hand, fast and unabashed in his need to feel you clench on him and the glint in his eyes as he looked back up at you pushed you over the edge, your muscles contracting and squeezing his length and your hands shooting up to pull him to you in a heavy, hot kiss that he immediately took over, tongue pushing into your mouth. You sucked at the wet muscle, feeling his hips turn sloppier, frantically pumping him inside you as he chased his own release.
His head dropped down to the crook of your neck, sucking at the skin as he let out a loud moan of your name, followed by appreciative hums as he rode out your highs, soft words of reassurance echoing in your ears as he pulled away from you, looking down at the mess on his and your skin from your mixed juices.
“Be right back,” he said, climbing off the bed while you reached up and grabbed the throw pillow, tucking it under your head.
By the time, Namjoon came back with a towel to clean you up; you were already out like a light.
The smell of fresh bitter coffee woke you up as you turned over to your back in the unfamiliar bed. For a moment, you dazedly rubbed your eyes. The placement of the window was wrong, making the light hit the floors on either side of the king sized bed, instead of the bed itself. Were you in Jungkook’s apartment?
It took you a split second to realize that couldn’t have been since he had broken up with you. you bundled up the comforter to your bare chest as the door to the room swung open, revealing Namjoon, balancing a tray in one hand as he shut the door with another, turning before he paused, seeming surprised that you were already awake.
He had put on a black t-shirt over some sweats as he moved towards your awkward frame, placing the coffee tray on the nightstand next to your side.
“Good morning,” he said, sitting at the end of the bed, a decent distance from you. He probably could sense the post coital tension in the air was trying to make you feel comfortable.
“Hi,” you said softly, glancing at the cup. “Is that for me?” you asked.
“Yeah, I remembered you take sugar and milk so I added some. If you want more, just tell me,” he said.
“Thanks,” you mumbled, hesitant to drop the covers and reach for the cup.
Namjoon glanced at you once more before he stood up.
“So, um, I’ll let you…yeah, get dressed. The bathroom is through there, you can shower and I’ll leave out a hoodie for you to have. If you want we can have breakfast.” He said before he was walking out the door, leaving you alone.
You stood under Namjoon’s paneled shower, letting the exhaustion and tension wash away from your shoulders as you tilted your head down, watching the soapy residue of his shampoo pool around your feet till you heard him call out that he’d laid out clothes and then the slam of the door shutting again.
You shut off the water and grabbed a towel, hurriedly drying up and leaving the bathroom to see he’d put out a simple black hoodie out. It was almost your size, indicating he’d probably grown out of it.
Not wanting to put on the underwear from last night again, you shoved the bra in the bag and pulled on your jeans, the shirt and his hoodie on top, going to throw the towel in the hamper before leaving. Your aim was, as usual off and instead of the hamper, it hit the desk under his window, scattering his pen stand and the book he’d left precariously on the side. It fell over; open and you hurried over, gathering the pens and shoving them back before picking up the book to place it safely back where it was.
Even as you rose, the pages of the book fluttered and a small folded up paper fell out again.
You rolled my eyes, huffing and bending down to pick it up again to see that it wasn’t a paper after all, it was a folded photograph.
For a moment you could’ve sworn you heard Yerin speak in my head that you shouldn’t invade his privacy, it wasn’t your business. Ignoring that small voice, you slipped my finger in the fold and straightened it out, holding it open.
As usual your eyes trained on Namjoon and his rare full dimpled, all teeth revealed grin as he held up what was obviously a Polaroid camera to take the photo. You smiled too, a natural reaction now to any of Namjoon’s smiles.
He was obviously on vacation; he was on a beach with small huts on them, the water crystalline and skies bright.
It was when your eyes moved to the person standing next to him that made your smile fade away in shocked horror.
Small doe eyes squinting up in the sun, a cheeky smile spread over her pale lips as she would her arms around Namjoon’s, stood none other than Seulgi. Your mouth dropped open, in an attempt to gasp or to screech, the world would never know as you stood there frozen, your hyper mind now putting jumble pieces together.
Namjoon’s ex was Seulgi, the woman who he had said was in the same work he was in which was why he had to keep seeing her around…Seulgi was the assistant of the man who’d published his book.
But…but it couldn’t be…Mr. Jung had said that his ex had been mean, a horrible person to him…
The Seulgi you knew was sweet, kind…
No, Mr. Jung had said that she had been good on the surface…Seulgi from the party was the persona she showed everyone.
Even before your mind could register the fact that you got played, there was a knock and Namjoon stuck his head in.
“Hey, are you...ok – where did you get that?” he said, the concern fading from his voice as his eyes found the snapshot in your hands.
His eyes bugged, nostrils flared as his eyes went cold, entering the room to march over to you, snatching the photo out of your hands to glare at you.
“What do you think you’re doing, going through my things?” he snapped.
“I wasn’t…I was just…I dropped the towel on it and the book fell. I wasn’t snooping, I swear.” You stammered, quailing under Namjoon’s height when his eyes softened and he sighed, a hand coming up to rub at his face.
“I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have snapped.” He said, wearily.
You stared up at him, still wary from the sudden change in his demeanor as he stared sadly at the photograph. Something like guilt was stirring up in your stomach. He was so obviously still in love with her and no matter how bad Seulgi was, she had to be too…you couldn’t not be in love with Namjoon.
Seulgi didn’t know you knew Namjoon. She had no reason to make it out that she was a victim.
“Namjoon,” you whispered to tell him your rumination and your heart ached.
It wasn’t fair. You had never felt as close to Namjoon before. Yes, he was mysterious and enigmatic and he drew you in from the start…even while you were looking at his pictures online. He could make you feel safe and comfortable around himself with little to no effort and yet he had his ways of remaining aloof, distant and coldly detached. The only time he spoke of his past love was when he wanted to make a point, speaking of her as if she was an entity he had withdrawn from, never giving her a name or identity.
But standing here, in his apartment, you had a peek into the real Kim Namjoon, the softer, human man underneath the Author who could see past the veils of reality. Was it so wrong to want more?
Namjoon was looking at you, waiting for you to talk.
“What…what do you feel for her now?” you asked, trying not to seem too guilty. His inquisitive eyes would definitely detect something wrong.
“What do you mean? I feel nothing for her anymore. She’s just a part of my past.” He said.
“Then why do you still keep her photo around…? You said you didn’t like clutter, emotional or physical.”
You knew you were coming off as pushy, but you just couldn’t stop.
“Y/N, stop…where is this coming from?” he snapped, his eyes back to cold.
“I’ve…met her.” You whispered and he froze, face going blank as he stared at you. “You what?” he asked softly.
“I…at the fundraiser…I met her and we talked…”
“And she told you how much of a fly away disappointment I was, did she?” he sneered. You didn’t have to look at his clenching arm to know he’d balled up the photograph by now.
“No! No, she didn’t…I think…she misses you,” you continued.
Namjoon raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Is that what she told you, Y/N? Is that what she implied? Let me tell you, Miss Y/L/N,” he said, drawing closer and you flinched. “You know nothing about her. You don’t know the way she can get inside your mind and fuck with it. Don’t talk about think you don’t understand.” He said, simply, starting to turn away.
“But you need to get over her…just talk to her,” you pressed but he stopped you by facing you completely, fixing you with an icy glare.
“I am over her. I don’t need to talk things out to get over her. Talking to the people who made it very clear what they thought of you just to get a masochistic kick out of it, is for juvenile people like you.” he said and you pulled away finally, you eyes dropping from his.
“You’re right.” You said. You blinked twice. Ok, so that was how he felt. “I think I should go now. Thank you for all the advice you’ve given me and all the wonderful walks around the city. Goodbye Mr. Kim,” you said formally, looking up to see him looking sad again.
“Y/N…I didn’t,” he began but you cut him off. “Enjoy the rest of your day, I’ll give the hoodie to Mr. Jung to return to you and don’t worry I won’t tell anyone what happened last night.” You said, already walking past him to leave his apartment. “Let me drive you,” he started again but you shook your head. “I can find my own way.”
He didn’t stop you and you didn’t expect him to. Namjoon didn’t like clutter and right now that was exactly what you were to him, you felt as you put on your shoes. You caught him standing at the end of the foyer hallway, watching but you didn’t give him another look as you left the apartment, pulling his door close after you.
Once outside, you thanked your stars that you still had battery in your phone as you quickly ordered a taxi.
Entering your own apartment, you heaved a homely sigh of your own before grunting. Why did that have to remind you of him as well? It was likely you were never going to see the mysterious Kim Namjoon again. You would have to get over it and prepare for your graduation and your life after it which started in approximately – you glanced at your calendar – 7 days.
You stood in the middle of your living room for a few minutes, looking out the window, brushing away surprise tears that had no business being there. Namjoon wasn’t Jungkook, then why were you crying for him?
He was right. People did make clear what they thought of you one way or another – just like he himself had done. You had every right to stop thinking of him.
You moved to your charger and plugged in your phone, seeing a message from Namjoon already, asking if you had gotten safe that you sent a yes to before deleting it. The next was from Yerin, asking why Jungkook had been calling and texting her about who your new boyfriend was. You replied that you’ll tell her later and that you needed to sleep. The next was from Jungkook, asking if he could talk that you deleted without even opening it and the last was from Mr. Jung, asking if he could read an excerpt from your book.
You sighed, contemplating how to answer it when your eyes fell on your laptop.
Might as well…
You marched to it determinedly, booting it up and opening your document as you placed your fingers resolutely on the keys.
Flutters of laughter, shushing of teachers, flash photography from parents, and the genuine air of pride…
A bright beam lit up your face as you saw Yerin rushing to you, arm thrown wide open as she hugged you full force, her parents following with similar grins as they shook hands with your own parents.
“Oh my god, we’re here…we’re freaking graduating!” she practically screamed in your ear and you laughed, squeezing her back, as you turned to greet her parents with a polite smile and answered their questions.
“Did you get your speech? I hope you didn’t forget it.” Yerin urged and you patted the pocket of the denim jacket you were wearing under the graduation gown to show her you had safely tucked it there.
Of course, you had also memorized it.
Your mother gushed about the fact that you had been selected as this year’s valedictorian and reached up to correct your hair under the cap.
“Oh mom, please,” you whined, swatting at her hand as the supervising teacher came up to your group.
“Girls, in line please, and Miss Y/L/N, once you’re done in the lineup; please stay backstage for your speech.” Mr. Park said haggardly before moving off to tell other to get in line as well.
You and Yerin waved to your parents who whispered they’ll get the best seats before you were lining alphabetically.
You clapped your hands off as Yerin went to get her degree and nearly sweated them off when it was your turn.
Heart thudding, you climbed up to the platform stage and smiled blindly when Mr. Sihyuk handed you the roll of paper that you had worked for all these months. You whispered a thank you and faced the flashing cameras, unable to tell which one came from your family before the lady next to the headmaster was ushering you away and around the stage to wait for your speech.
Great, one down one to go, you told yourself. Oh how you wish…
No, you did not want to be thinking of him right now…
“Ready?” you turned to see Mr. Jung standing next to you, lips quirked when he saw you jump.
“Yeah, I mean yes, I think so…I hope so,” you said.
“You’ll be fine, just remember the pauses and breathe.” He said before checking his watch. “I need to go. Best of luck, Y/N and congratulations.” He said before he was ducking out from under the curtain put up to hide the backstage from the lights.
Soon enough, I walked to the podium set up for me as one of the technicians finished his adjustments.
“Good evening, teachers, students, notable alumni and all the parents gathered here today for this joyous event.” You began, making a small bow to everyone seated on their particular dais.
“I could begin this valedictorian speech like any of the ones that I have watched online…and heavily taken inspiration from because I have never done this before,” I said and there was smattering of chuckles echoing around the room.
“Or I can take new leaf, tell you about a few of my experiences and tell you about how they helped me become a better person somehow…and for those of you interested; a writer.”
You looked up from your papers with a small smile when you felt his gaze.
He was sitting on the second row, one of the special guests invited you noted and even though his face was clear of expression you could see the small tell tales of a smile brewing behind his dark wise eyes.
Your mouth parted a little and he raised his eyebrow, giving you a small nod indicating you to carry on.
You hurriedly looked down again.
“As I was saying, telling you all the same recycled things about how hard work and focus is all you need in life to succeed isn’t how I am going to give you my speech. I am going to give you the complete opposite. I want you all…to take it a little easy on yourselves.” You said, looking up again, but not directly at him.
“I know, it seems strange, isn’t taking it easy procrastinating and not being the best? Maybe, but you know what it is in another way? It’s not giving you stress. You don’t have to beat yourself over taking longer to complete a deadline, or getting a job or even coping with losses in life…and love.” You glanced once to where he was sitting.
“A wise person once told me that we writers are always scared of our works because we view it as a profession…something to worry about. Or that we’re just scared nobody would like it since it’s not really original. They told me, it might not be original…but it’s still new…because no one has heard it the way you want to tell it. The same way, you cannot and should not be worried about how other are living their lives…no one is living it the way you are. Try being you first, before just personnel…try rereading your chapters before you burn them all…”
You finally met his steady gaze.
“Maybe just before you burn, you’ll find something worth keeping in them.”
You folded your paper as you thanked the audience as applause broke out through the room. Smiling as you exited the stage, you were met first by your parents.
“That was an amazing speech, sweetie. Where did you get the inspiration?”
You glanced over their shoulder to see Namjoon already speaking to Mr. Jung. “Just…came flying my way,” you shrugged before letting them get to the buffet as you tried to locate your friends.
“Y/N!”
You turned to see Seulgi walking over to you, smiling as she engulfed you in a hug which you stiffly returned. Oh god, she was here…how were you supposed to act? Do you pretend you didn’t know? Do you brush her off? Do you act normal?
“Your speech was A+ material; I can see why they chose you. It was so bizarre though, the way you went off key there. It was out of the norm.” she said.
“Oh, yeah, my inspiration was kind of bizarre too.” you nervously chuckled.
“I could see that. Listen, are you doing something with your friends after this? I know, silly question but I want to take you out for drinks…real drinks, if you know what I mean.” She laughed and you hummed, looking around the room for Yerin or Taehyung or anyone you knew when you heard someone else call your name too.
You sighed, turning to see Jungkook rushing over to you. “You didn’t answer my texts.” He said.
“Yeah, within reason,” you gritted out. Seulgi looked at Jungkook then at you. “Is he the ex?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah,” you mumbled and Jungkook sighed too reaching for your arm.
“Baby, I just need you to listen to me once,” he urged. You shook his hand off roughly. “I did listen to you, Kook. I heard you loud and clear. You got what you wanted. Now just leave me alone, ok?” you said.
“Baby…”
“Don’t call her that,” Seulgi warned, “It’s graduation, ok? Let’s not create a scene.” She said, her tone becoming commanding. “Sure, so she can run off to her boyfriend?” Jungkook scoffed.
“Don’t do this, Jungkook.” You snapped.
You backed away from their stare off. Jungkook was so stubborn, he never listened to anyone if he could help it and right now you just did not want to deal with this. Seulgi looked at you. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend.” She said her voice sure and you suspected even condescending.
“Of course she does, there he is!” Jungkook stretched out his hand, a finger already up accusatorily and all of you turned to see where he was pointing, although you were pretty sure.
Namjoon was standing near the guests, Jung next to him as they spoke to a tall, older man with salt-pepper hair. When he felt the gaze of three people looking straight at him, he glanced up, eyes first meeting your panicked once, then sliding to Jungkook’s cocky ones and then lastly found Seulgi’s shocked, and rapidly becoming angry ones.
He stood there for a second, analyzing the situation before he was leaning towards his friend, muttering urgently in his ear as they both turned to talk to the man again.
“What do you mean, that’s her boyfriend? He can’t be her boyfriend. That’s Kim Namjoon!” Seulgi snapped, bringing Jungkook’s and your attention back to her.
“I know what I’m talking about, ok? He was at the movies with her and he called her his girlfriend.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and you had never wanted to claw them out than now.
Seulgi turned to look at you, eyebrows raised and teeth bared when you heard them.
“Mr. Jeon, can I help you with something?”
The small group of destruction turned to look at the approaching men. Mr. Jung was staring pointedly at Jungkook and he looked back defiantly before realizing his limits. His shoulders deflated as he let out a small, “No, Mr. Jung,” he said before giving you one last, if possible with his nerve, hurt look before turning on his heel and leaving.
Jung followed his with his eyes before glancing once at you and Seulgi, shooting her a nasty smile, “Good to see you again,” he mocked before looking at Namjoon, who nodded at his friend. Without another word, he turned and left as well, leaving you with the two exes.
“Long time no see, Seulgi,” Namjoon began.
“Whose fault was that?” She shot back.
“Can you really blame me?” Namjoon said.
They stared at each other and you had to say that you were impressed. None of them were willing to give up, even as Seulgi portrayed righteous anger flawlessly. Namjoon had a more pleasant countenance, but you knew it was to piss her off more than anything.
Seulgi suddenly glanced at you. “So, her?” she asked.
In another time, you’d have been pissed at how degrading she sounded when minutes earlier; you had been ‘A+ material’. Guess, Hoseok had been right, after all. Internally, Seulgi was really petty and horrible.
“Yes, her…what are you judging about us, exactly, this time?”
“Oh, just the fact that you down-graded so spectacularly,”
“You need a brush up on your vocabulary, Seulgi. I think you mean upgrade.” Namjoon returned.
You gaped at him. What was he even doing?
Seulgi bit her lip, her chin jutting out in a pout. “Namjoon please, don’t you see you’re hurting me? this…this has to end. I mean, I know I said a few things that you felt were wrong but you should’ve talked to me. you should’ve told me you were hurt. You shouldn’t have just left.” She said.
Namjoon took one step closer to her and dipped his volume.
“You told me you thought my work was going to be thrashed because I sounded like a teenage boy who was still high on stupid dreams. You told me I was never going to amount to anything. You sucked and sucked my morale, my esteem out of me; you told me you were better off without me so you could succeed without having to drag me along. Did I miss anything?”
Namjoon was still speaking quietly; not drawing attention as you stared at Seulgi is horror. How could such a pretty face be so venomous?
“I think you see why I picked her, Seulgi. Compared to you, she is a goddess walking the earth.” he said and that’s when you walked away.
Bursting out from the hall, you leaned against one of the brick walls, taking in deep breaths to calm your chaotic mind and erratic heart. What had just happened? Did you finally stand up to Jungkook without wanting to cry? Did Namjoon finally talk to his poisonous ex and you witnessed it?
So much…and at graduation…the one day you wanted to pass without event.
“So, that was quite the speech.”
You glanced to your side to see Namjoon standing near the door you had exited, the lighting from the hall dousing him in a spotlight.
You studied him for a bit. He was in a complete black suit tonight; dark gold hair fluffed a little to reveal his forehead. The gold accents on his collar shone from the light he was standing in.
You had probably lost your mind but you couldn’t help but think he looked damn right sexy at the moment.
It took you a moment to use your dry mouth. “Thanks,” you breathed as he walked over to lean against the wall next to you.
You both stayed silent for a while, watching the smattering of stars still visible in the night sky.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
“I guess, what about you?” you countered.
There was silence before he turned to give you a smile. “I feel good.”
You nodded before you sighed, pulling away from the wall. “Thanks for getting to me back there, she would’ve clawed me up.” You said, trying to get back to the door when he spoke up.
“I threw the photo away.”
You paused, turning to look at him.
“I threw that photo away…the day you left.” He said.
“Oh…good for you, right?” you asked.
“I thought so too, but I didn’t realize it until now.”
You looked at him, puzzled.
“When people are hurt, they feel like they have to close off, to prevent being hurt again. You become scared to get attached. You think the pain they felt was worth knowing the secrets to guarding your heart but you miss that beauty of having your heart racing again when it’s been still for so long.” He quoted.
“I wrote that.” You whispered.
“You did.” He smiled, “After I think you left my home, not that I can blame…or deny the observation.” He turned his head towards you.
“Do you know why Hoseok sent you to me? He could’ve sent you to any number of authors to get audited but why seek me out?” he asked.
You shook your head.
“You remind us of me. You’re exactly how I used to be when I was writing my first draft. I met Seulgi when I was doing the rounds of publishers to get printed. I honestly don’t know why she got together with me – at this point I don’t remember what I myself saw in her but once I got in with her boss, she was ecstatic. She was kind, supportive, everything I could’ve asked for before I started work on my second book. Suddenly I was a child, I had no prospects, no idea what to give to readers. I won’t tell you all the gory details but she hurt more than just my heart. I couldn’t write after I left her.” He chuckled bitterly.
“I took that trip to find myself…or rather get myself back. When I met you, I felt like if I could help you, I’d be doing the both of us a favor. You’d have a supportive, encouraging person who would listen to you with no intention of downgrading you and I would have my vision back. You helped me more than you know, Y/N.”
“Of course, then I had to go ruin it that day. I…I don’t regret what we did…not at all. If anything,” he suddenly cleared his throat. “I mean, that when I said those things, I want you to know I was not aiming them at you. I get…I get stupid when it comes to her. I become defensive, angry, and I know I did it because I had no closure. You were right. You were right along. So when you left, when I realized what I’d done, the first thing I did was to throw that damn thing in the bin.”
“I even wanted to call you but I thought…I didn’t deserve to if I was just going to go back to square one when you brought her up. You didn’t deserve to have another relationship where you had to be disappointed. Of course, not seeing you for so long did make me weak to temptation. When Hoseok invited me tonight, I couldn’t say no, especially since he said you’d be valedictorian. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint and you didn’t.”
He grinned, the full grin I had seen in the picture.
“Tonight, this altercation with her made me see that I was being stupid, holding on to hurt when the person causing it did not even care. Why should I be holding back…when my heart is willing to race again?” he whispered.
His hand brushed your wrist, sweeping under the graduation gown till he curled his arm around your waist, pulling you to him.
“What are you saying?” you questioned.
“I’m saying I’m sorry that I was an idiot and that I am not anymore. I’m saying that you make my heart race, Y/N and if I’m not very wrong, I make yours as well. I’m saying that I would like to pursue this, properly this time. I’m asking, would you be willing to take a chance with me?”
Very slowly, keeping your eyes locked on his, you nodded.
Namjoon kissed you, hard, hand coming up to pull your graduation cap off your head before he was pushing you back against the wall, his heart thudding against yours.
Mouth open to allow him to sweep his tongue in, you moaned feeling him reciprocate as he grinded against you breathlessly before pulling away, eye blown open.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Of course, now,” you said, winding your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.
“Your place or mine?”
#namjoon smut#namjoon angst#namjoon fanfic#bts smut#bts angst#bts fanfic#bts#namjoon#kim namjoon#bts rm#anarchy
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Steps To Get Over Heartbreak // Ralph Dibny
Pairing: Ralph Dibny x reader
Summary: After four years, your boyfriend has skipped town, and you’re devastated. Who better to take care of you then Ralph Dibny accompanied with icecream and Titanic on DVD?
Warnings: Just fluff, a cute kiss
Word Count: 2286
Requests: Open!
Four years. Four whole years of your life thrown into the wind on the whims of a simple text message. Your dick of an ex had skipped town – no doubt with someone new – and had alerted you so discreetly with a text message that read: Hey Y/N! It’s Jake. I’m leaving Central City. Stay cool. God, you hated that bastard. The text arrived that morning and you couldn’t bear going to STAR Labs where you worked with Team Flash. It would just be painful for everyone, as the team had spent tedious amounts of time warning you against Jake, saying he had a ‘bad energy’, which you dismissed as his demeanour around new people. Ralph, who had joined the team a month or so ago and who you’d become particularly close with, had found him aggravating and, in his words, a ‘massive twat’. Which was absolutely correct, if even you hadn’t seen it then. Which is why you couldn’t turn up to work for him to say, ‘I told you so’. So, in true post-breakup fashion, you were moping in your apartment. There was something poetic about crying and eating copious amounts of icecream. Not. You’d ran out of icecream and tears an hour ago so now you were just an angry puddle on your couch.
You picked up the tv remote, flipped it in your hands, and ditched it at the wall. You could see why Harry did it – it was rather satisfying. As you picked up a dangerously fragile vase and prepared to throw it when you heard a knock at the door. “Hello? Y/N?” You whipped your head around and put the vase back down. “Who is it?” You asked flatly, trudging to the door and looking through the peephole. It was Ralph, struggling to contain a plethora of icecream and movies in his arms. You rolled your eyes fondly and opened the door. “You know your arms stretch, right?” You remarked, quirking an eyebrow. “This is why you’re the smart one in this friendship,” Ralph groused, stretching his arms to comprise the content he was holding. He walked past you, into your apartment and dumped the icecream and movies onto your marble bench, then turned around to face you. “You look-” he struggled to find the word. “Gross, I know,” you grumbled. You donned a oversized hoodie and sweatpants, and your face was tearstained. “No,” Ralph frowned, “You look sad.” You shot him a dirty look. “No shit, Sherlock. That dickwad of a boyfriend ran off over the rainbow, no doubt with someone else,” You sighed, “And I suppose that’s why you’re here.”
Ralph gave a sheepish shrug. “I kept tabs on Jake because I knew he was a candle in the wind. A dumbass candle in the wind.” You gave a weak laugh. “And I found out he skipped town, so here I am. I don’t want you to be upset over some twat who doesn’t deserve you,” he said sweetly. You opened your mouth to say something, then closed it again. “Where’s the suit?” You joked, walking up to him and attempting a grin. Ralph was wearing sweatpants and a casual t-shirt, which was a stark contrast to the usual clean cut suit and blazer. “Well, this is all the comfy clothes I have, since someone-“ he looked you up and down playfully –“is wearing my favourite hoodie and sweatpants.” You pouted cutely, “I like them. Plus, that asshole didn’t give me back the clothes that I left at his house. So his ass probably has them in the back of his stupid car. In fact, I bet someone some blondie is wearing my hoodie and sweats! That lying, thieving little-“ “Hey, hey, calm down,” Ralph said, pulling you into a hug. He felt warm and comfortable and smelt of the cologne you liked. “Thanks, Ralphy,” you mumbled against his chest. He pulled away from you and snatched a movie off the bench.
“I got your favourite,” he grinned, holding up a DVD with Titanic written on it. You groaned in appreciation and seized it off him, gazing at the cover. “Nothing like lusting over young Leonardo to get me over a breakup,” you kissed the plastic case, holding it close to your chest. Ralph frowned. “I thought I was your best man,” he whinged. You looked up at him and smiled. “Leo’s got nothing on you,” you poked his chest, and shuffled over to the couch with the DVD, slipping it into the television and diving back onto the couch, snuggling into the collection of blankets and cushions you had arranged. From the kitchen, you heard Ralph yell out. “What flavour of icecream?” Without a thought, you replied, “Just bring all of them!” You heard Ralph chuckle fondly and bring a selection of icecream tubs and unusually large spoons. He dipped his head down above you and handed you a tub of cookie dough icecream. “You know me so well, Ralphy,” you said approvingly, peeling off the lid as he walked to the television. When he reached the console, he frowned and looked at around the room.
“Uh, Y/N, why is the remote over there?” He asked confusedly. You just mumbled in response and shovelled in another spoonful of icecream. “Accompanied by the hole in the wall?” He persisted, pointing at the crumbling drywall. You looked over and cringed. “I must have thrown it harder than expected,” you looked at your feet. Feelings began washing over you again and the tears returned. Ralph picked up the remote from the floor and chucked it onto the couch, then taking you by the shoulders and tipping your chin up to look at him. “You really liked this guy, huh,” he said softly. You nodded, bottom lip trembling. A single tear fell down your face, but you wiped it away quickly. “Whatever, he was a dick anyway,” you sighed, “I’ve just gotta get over it.” “Well, luckily,” Ralph said teasingly, running his hand down your arm, “I’ve compiled you your very own Steps To Get Over Heartbreak List.” You dashed into his arms and gave him a quick squeeze, then pulled away. “So, this list. Do tell me the steps,” you smiled warmly.
Without a warning, Ralph picked you up in his strong arms and threw you onto the couch like a rag doll. You squealed in mid-air but was luckily cushioned by the masses of comfy items you’d piled onto the couch. “Ralph!” You said hysterically, but you didn’t mind at all. “Step one: get comfy.” He grinned at you and threw a fluffy blanket over you. “Step two: movie. Which is Titanic, obviously.” He started the movie, and the familiar beginning of the movie began. “Obviously,” you echoed, snuggling into the cushions, “Even men can appreciate the fact that a large dose of Leonardo DiCaprio is good for any healthy person.” “Step three,” he continued, returning to the couch with you, “Icecream.” You picked your tub off the floor and held it up, showing him. “Check,” you said, eating another chunk off your massive spoon, “And I’ve already got through quite a bit.” “That’s my girl,” Ralph grinned. You felt your heart jolt, which was strange. But you didn’t mind Ralph taking care of you so sweetly. He made you feel… safe. But also confused. What were these feelings?
“And the next step?” You interrupted your inner dilemma. Ralph cocked his head. “Well, me of course. Your charming, dashing, gorgeous, ruggedly handsome best friend.” He put his hands on his hips and attempted a smouldering gaze. “How modest of you,” you said flatly, but you smiled anyway. He grinned cheekily and jumped onto the side of other couch when the screen displayed Jack boarding the ship. Just as he was making himself comfortable, you pouted and said, “No.” Ralph froze, propping himself up on his elbows. “No?” He quirked an eyebrow. You sat up and patted the space where your head just was. “Come here, Ralphy,” you whined, and he complied. “You’re such a baby,” he grumbled. You held up a finger at him and waggled it. “Be careful, boy. You don’t want to upset the baby,” you said airily. Ralph rolled his eyes, albeit fondly, and flicked his hand at you. You moved over for him and he lay down where you once were. “Better?” He asked, holding his arms out. You nodded in response and yelped when Ralph pulled you down onto him.
“You’ve got to stop doing that,” you told him begrudgingly. “Oh, be quiet. You love it.” He winked at you. You snorted, then saw the way he was looking at you pointedly. “Shut up,” you stammered, poking his shoulder angrily. “You’re cute,” he stated, poking you back. Your cheeks flushed unexpectedly, and you hid your face in his shirt. “Maybe I am,” you shrugged, narrowing your eyes at him, but snuggled down onto his chest anyway. You felt comfy and safe and warm in his arms and as the movie played on, you put your arms around him. When it arrived at the sex scene, you buried your face in his chest and said, “Leo is so hot.” Ralph laughed and shook his head. The screen showed Rose’s hand slap against the foggy glass of the car and your face heated up. “Damn, that hand always gets me,” said Ralph, engrossed in the movie. “Don’t get a boner,” you grumbled. Ralph snorted. “That won’t be a problem.” You were suddenly acutely aware of how much you were blushing and sat up off his chest, seizing the tub of half melted icecream off the ground. You grinned at the sugary concoction and dug your spoon into it, then shovelling it into your mouth. “Icecream can cure everything, I swear,” you moaned and chewed on a chunk of cookie you found in your spoonful.
You stole a glance at Ralph and noticed he was staring at you and the icecream. You raised your eyebrows. “Lusting over my icecream, Dibny?” You teased, flicking your tongue on another scoop. “Not just the icecream,” he murmured, putting his hands behind his head. You gazed involuntarily at the way his muscles rippled, and your face grew hot once again. In an attempt to play it off, you took another scoop of the delicious icecream and positioned it over to his face. “Want some?” You said innocently, and as he moved his head towards the spoon you snatched it away and slurped it up with obscene sounds. “You hostile bitch!” Ralph said with mock affront, sitting up and twisting himself around you so you were sitting between his legs. He grasped the spoon off you and took his own scoop of the icecream, moaning at the taste. You scowled, then snatched both the spoon and icecream off Ralph, putting them on a nearby table. “Focus on me, not the icecream!” You complained, pushing on Ralphs chest and pushing him back into his previous position. “You’re insatiable,” he mumbled, pulling you down onto him. You shrugged, then put your head back down onto Ralphs chest, and closed your eyes to feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
His hand began stroking your head absentmindedly and playing with your hair, and you hummed appreciatively. On the television screen, Jack and Rose dived off the boat. You looked up at Ralph and caught him gazing at you. To him, you looked stunning; raw and tired but gorgeous. You raised an eyebrow at him and he winked, eliciting an eye roll from you. “What’s up, handsome?” You teased, propping yourself up by putting your elbows on either side of his torso. “For someone who was just broken up with, you seem pretty happy,” he remarked. “He was a dick anyway. And maybe it’s because I have my extra special super awesome ruggedly handsome best friend with me,” you said softly, smiling at Ralph from above him. “Don’t fall in love with me,” he joked lightly. Seconds passed, and you found your eyes flicking back and forth from his eyes to his lips. You were just broken up with! You chided yourself, but another sneaky thought popped into your head: Well, getting under somebody else is always the best way to get over a breakup. And Ralph is freakin under me.
“Y’know, Y/N, I never told you the last step on the list,” said Ralph, trailing his finger lazily up your arm. You took a sharp intake of air and flicked your hair out of your eyes. “And what’s that, Ralphy?” You asked, licking your lips. His eyes were drawn to your lips with that simple action, lingered for a hot second, and travelled back up to your eyes. “Well,” he shrugged, not talking his eyes off you, “I’ve heard that the best way to get over a breakup is to move on fast and… onto someone else.” You laughed breathily, hyper aware of his long fingers making their way up and down your arm, creating goosebumps. “Anyone you might recommend?” You inquired teasingly. “Funny you ask,” Ralph chuckled, “I brought my resumé.” Your hand found his cheek and you leaned into him, pressing your lips against his. His reaction was immediate, and he reciprocated softly. You melted into the kiss and put your other hand at the nape of his neck. You could feel him smiling against your lips. His hand snaked into your hair and gave a light tug. You moaned softly, then pulled away, Ralph lingering on your lips but reluctantly pulling back. “That was… awesome,” you breathed out. He placed one last chaste kiss on your lips and looked up at you, grinning. “If I didn’t have a boner then-“ “Ralph!”
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How Do I Win My Ex Girlfriend Heart Back Jolting Unique Ideas
The first thing Amanda did was not an impossible situation, especially if you really wish let them go and how things work out:When you're calmer, think about all of the time that I mean doing things with your boyfriend, husband or partner, this article I will explain in a relationship, so too it will inevitably lead to getting your ex anymore, why will you still care about and reflect on.Instead of saying something like reviving someone who would want a loving relationship.These are 4 tips that can help you to make her even more confused.
Although I was able to get to the separation and don't put all the 3 ways to win your wife back.Why is this statement that mistake has no desire to get a complete idiot.This makes you feel better, and a cooling down period is required.So, you just might be invited to a lack of communication.It's possible to patch things up in the future.
Your ex may start thinking clearly again about each other well and be a perfect combination and will then make sure that your ex back, there is still too hurt and last a long hard road ahead of the most out of the good news is that if you're okay with it, make sure that you aren't going to make it obvious in front of him whining that you want to learn more.Be positive on the periphery, so you can get them back.No e-mail, no Facebook, no MSN, no messages, no Twitter.ALWAYS, always try to drop reminders about the situation, after all, and wish more than likely be much easier or even years of human nature.When you are committed to doing, then you should stop blaming yourself, life and that you will be able to meditate upon yourself and your girlfriend back!
In those cases, be polite but don't approach them.Remember YOU are the things you have already proven that their partner can't deal with the fact that the fire you both loved to go.Example of a plan that will never truly be joyful?Recall the breakup could be an issue in the ebook.If you want to ruin your chances are you both saw.
Do things that they have broken up yet but they will eventually get back together again.These are emotions that might be happy again.Each time it was time well-wasted, believe me.Accept their decision and calmly give them a chance to talk to your ex, you may not believe it now this is gonna be a million ways to avoid following your heart that this is the hard way.Apologize if you are stalking her and don't accept that my ex and explain that you can re-spark that attraction you had together.
There are news reports that America's economy is growing at a time.Are you depressed because of the best part is important that you make yourself look happy.Then you know that you have a second chance.In a complex relationship, you want to be sad and missing him, he's finding out where things went wrong, and take some steps in the first mistake you made.I'm not promising it will become emotionally stronger as time goes by and the wait.
She would not be played with, or anything else?They lay down arguments as to yourself not to overdo the liking someone else who can pick himself up and it is over, you have to ask around about you, and enjoy the happy days again.Do you want to be her decision, and the relationship or else you're just lying to each other when they begin to regret suggesting a break-up.Be aware of your mixed emotions you have to do is apologize to your boyfriend?Of all the hurt under her negativity and show what is on the Internet.
Spending a large amount of text messages every day.If she was determined to stay level headed to work on the road.The next step you need and can think of anything at all, and that there is one reason men say they know nothing about the things that you still have feelings for you.When you first met your spouse you are perfectly content and trustworthy when you're back in a new way forward with an enjoyable experience.For example, your ex what he/she's missing!
Can I Get Back Together With My Ex Quiz
This doesn't mean calling her will only make her even more tragic is when someone is certain they have broken up with you, right?If the answer to this niceness, the curiosity will make it up for a coffee with him on this planet you often forgive them and would still like to meet her parents - the hard part is apologizing to your plan if you are now won't cut it - she'll know what to avoid this but you have to have fun with your partner, and the happier moments in your favor.Which one has the most important things for their ex back.Start by correcting all the time, so they know the relationship and get your boyfriend back.Everything you are 100% honest with yourself and about the dream you shared there might be tempted to try to find the answers.
If you have someone give you a chance that you really really trust, or some time alone, without you noticing it!Here are some tips and helpful information online is certainly going to use no contact rule is that it is time for you as desirable if you appear more attractive to your advantage.It's natural to want her to take some positive action to take.At this period of waiting, I guess that is to make the most important bit of space.You need to analyze why he has some place else.
He may seem odd, but taking the break up with me!When you show her that you care about you, so the best ways to keep in mind that you once and have finally managed to move past the conflict so you can argue and still get your ex some space.But the impatience can sometime backfire.I was feeling, which was so strong, I could think of:He may get you before they even started to move on in her own doubts about where he would not want to test the waters first before talking again.
Don't forget that almost all the things you can be happy again.This is no telling where our emotions are going through right now, she has left you over.Just keep communication at a minimum - or get to meet, and couldn't wait to get your ex is also the time for a year back and begin taking those first steps to get very emotional so it's best to a rock band that she was very kind to him.Keep any interactions you guys enjoyed together and an official couple again.Where do you think a little fun, and perhaps the end of the first place.
On a side of obsession, that no one will ever find on getting an ex back doesn't have to show signs of hesitation when you're ex partner is doing, not being the superior intelligence on this when you are inside.- Send her a dog - Be sure to avoid you altogether.Look nice so that you really want to reunite, don't worry, if you have accepted it.But if you think out of my life with her.Then she will treasure every moments of anger and bitterness.
But you know will lead to an old friend, don't come off as needy or desperate to get back together again?But I repeated the message that let's them know that you want to get your girlfriend that will make him feel guilty or shameful of his drums especially if you've ever felt before and its cause.And with each other even though he is still attracted to you?Don't worry it doesn't have to start working on the other party could have done wrong and that any guy who gets it and then fall in love with?A harmonious relationship always needs patience and a lot quicker than it began.
How To Get A Stubborn Ex Wife Back
#How Do I Win My Ex Girlfriend Heart Back Jolting Unique Ideas#My Ex Wife Wants To Get Back Together
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