#I just think he’s the type of guy to like good ole cigarettes
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Contrary to popular belief I don’t think matt would vape. I actually think he was single-handedly keeping multiple cigarette companies in business during the peak of the vaping epidemic
#matt death note#death note#matt jeevas#mail jeevas#I just think he’s the type of guy to like good ole cigarettes#death note manga#hell he might even chew tobacco#matt mail Jeevas#can you tell I think about matt alot
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La Squadra NSFW headcanons because I'm feral ♡
Cut for length (and content ofc)
Risotto
- Literally one of the most vanilla guys you'll meet in the Mafia. Don't get me wrong my man has his kinks but he's pretty bare bones
- Contrary to popular belief he's not a big fan of blood play and doesn't like to mix work with intimate affairs. He does have a bit of an oral fixation (giving and receiving) and really likes saliva though
- His member is pretty average sized actually. I mean compared to this mountain of a man it may look a bit small but trust me, he knows how to use it
- Does in fact have a cock piercing. It's a magic cross, have fun looking that up. Apparently it helps stimulate too
- His favorite position is cowgirl
Prosciutto
- Sleeps around a lot tbh but really wants to settle down with a special someone after leaving the gang
- Honestly I would not trust him with aftercare he thinks it's lighting a cigarette with a glass of (insert liquor because idk wtf Italians drink)
- Super lazy but can be a really good brat tamer if you push him
- Doesn't have a daddy kink but loves being called "Sir" and likes a power imbalance
- Will smack that ass and it will hurt
- Will fall asleep after finishing his glass but will at least offer to cuddle
Pesci
- Dreams of becoming the perfect man in bed. But I mean he's already got 5/5 stars with aftercare so he's halfway there. Like he can be buck naked and shaking but he'll still ask you if you're okay and try to comfort you afterwards
- Has the BIGGEST dick in the group I won't take criticism or notes my man is PACKING HEAT he just doesn't know how to use it (yet) take caution
- Low-key a masochist and likes to be bossed around but can be a little fragile, please be good and make sure to check up on him uwu. If things get too heavy he might try to force himself to do something to the point he ruins the experience for himself :( communication is key with him
- On a lighter note he VERY MUCH enjoys queening/kinging and will gladly let you sit on his face
- PRAISE HIM PLEASE HE'S A GOOD BOY TRYING HIS BEST AND HE NEEDS TO KNOW IT
Formaggio
- Okay yes he likes pet play are you happy. Luckily he's a major bisexual switch so it can go both ways. He likes being your good puppy <3
- STOP GIVING RISOTTO THE SIZE KINK WHEN IT RIGHTFULLY BELONGS TO THIS KING HIMSELF. He WILL use his Stand on you when you least expect it because he's an ass this is your warning
- Like stated before big switch energy, is a nasty dom when he wants to be but will only bottom if you soft dom him because he does not believe in equality
- He FALLS ASLEEP IMMEDIATELY afterwards and he SNORES because he HATES HIS S/O /j
- Also really loves oral and giving sloppy head. Mf DROOLS EVERYWHERE
Illuso
- Likes to act like a bad bitch but loves when he gets pampered like he will melt if you play with his hair
- Another switch (like most of the JoJo cast but whatever) but it's easier for him to bottom because he's lazy.
- LOVES receiving overstimulation for some reason like suck this man dry until he cries he'll be living it up. Safe words exist for a reason and he use it to his (dis)advantage
- VOICE KINK !! All types of noises from you can get him off. With good ole' Lulu it's important to be vocal, tell him how you feel, make noise, dirty talk, the whole nine yards
- Has a little issue with self worth so like praise this baby, worship this baby, he'll be in heaven
- Shockingly? Pretty good with aftercare
Ghiaccio
- Oh my god it's so easy for him to get overwhelmed and he HATES IT I'm begging for your sake treat him gently
- Easy to fluster because he's pretty new to relationship stuff and he'll need you to show him the ropes. You could very well be one of his first, sex is very intimate for him and he'd like to stick with one person
- Low-key bites
- Due to Stand reasons his limbs are very cold, he will use this against you
- I said Risotto was vanilla but man Ghia might take the cake, he's a bit of a stiff when it comes to the bedroom, but that isn't always bad. He likes good old missionary and making sure he takes care of you, but if he's overly stressed he'll give you the reigns for the night
- If all goes well, and he isn't overstimulated, sex actually really helps him relax, he's a lot more bubbly afterwards and likes to stay up with you, talking, drinking water (but not eating anything because he refuses to have crumbs in the bed)
Melone
- Has the WEIRDEST fixation on bodily fluids like I get where he's coming from but WHY
- As smooth as a baby. Everywhere. We think he waxes but we haven't seen proof yet. He's also got a pretty dick.
- Ribbons, ropes, chains, leather, he's a really big fan of restraints as long as there's a safe word and you're both on the right track
- Totally down to try anything, just ask. He's eager to please.
- Yes.... He has a breeding kink. He wants a big family
- Idk what you call it but pls pls pls let him suck on your titties while you jerk him off. He can die happily
- Really likes the 69 position (with him on top)
Sorbet & Gelato
- Buy one get one free, you cannot get one without the other let's make that clear. They're both sadistic meanies and will not let you top
- Double penetration or spit roasting is a MUST
- Being in a relationship with each other for so long they've gotten good with aftercare, Gelato is more touchy feely while Sorbet is all about snacks and vitamins
- Sorbet bites, Gelato fucking claws. They're both very into marking you up everywhere and love the embarrassment they get from you
- They love you, they really do... But sometimes they can get a little caught up in the moment with their own makeout sessions
- Afterwards you all just collapse into a pile of limbs lol
#steamy writing#jjba headcanons#la squadra x reader#la squadra#golden wind#risotto nero x reader#prosciutto x reader#pesci x reader#formaggio x reader#illuso x reader#melone x reader#ghiaccio x reader#sorbet and gelato#sorbet x reader#gelato x reader#risotto nero#prosciutto jjba#formaggio#illuso#pesci jjba#melone jojo#ghiaccio
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HEY please use this ask as an excuse to dump any and every jack & john thought in your head :o)k (the k is the clowns arms and legs look)
:o)k is really cute
Anyways, oh B O I thank you so much it is TIME
This got really long so under a read more it goes!
I'mma do them separately and then together
John
- *slaps his back* this bad boy can fit so much angst into him
- Seriously tho I dunno why I've made him the object of my angst affections atm but heehoo >:}
- He's gruff but he has a big heart, you just need to dig a lot to find it
- This man is such a workaholic my god
- I've also seen a few fics run with the idea that he has low self-worth which. Ough /pos
- His last name is Doe, his wife's name was Jane, and his daughter is named Judy
- John and Jane had a very Greg and Rose type of dynamic, just some guy and a woman who seemed extraordinary and far out of his league
- Tho unlike Steven Judy actually did get to have a few years with her before she kicked it lol
- Also his daughter is alive! I'm not THAT cruel. She was at a friend's house and John and Jack immediately rushed over to pick her up
- However there's a good period of time where John just gets stuck on the idea of what if. What if she was there, what if she got hurt, what if he lost her, what if what if what if. He starts spiraling on all the ways he could lose Jack too, it got bad. Thankfully Jack was there to ground him :>
- Why yes that was my projecting a little, why do you ask
- Seriously tho he loves Judy sm he'd die for her in a heartbeat
- Eventually grows to love Jack to the point he'd also die for him
- I like to think John and Frank were really close when they were kids, not as close as Lila and Jaune but damn near it. Growing apart hurt. Discovering Frank's… business hurt even more, for the both of them
- In general he misses when they were all just kids goofing around, not having to worry about anything
- Also misses Jane. He loved her so much; losing her devastated him. Part of him to this day feels at fault for her death, even though there was nothing he could do
- Absolutely stole this headcanon from @the-tick-tock-chaos-shoppe but I have become very attached to it: John has ADHD. He went undiagnosed and has no idea he has it
- Not helping matters is that Jaune ALSO has ADHD and was diagnosed (this is also a headcanon), so that hyper and bubbly personality is just what John associates with it; if someone went "hey I think you have ADHD" he'd be in complete denial lol
- When he was a kid he'd always have lollipops or straws in his mouth. When he got too old for that, it was pencils and pens, and when he got too old for that, he started smoking
- It is absolutely a sensory thing and he doesn't realize it is a sensory thing. Mans just needs something in his mouth
- If he happens to run out of cigarettes he goes back to pencils and pens. There are bite marks on all of the pencils at the police station lmao
- One time he took a pen from Evermore's office and just went to town on it
- Other stims for him include tapping his fingers on tables/desks, flicking his lighter repeatedly, and bouncing a pencil between his fingers/against the table
- In general him stimming is a lot more subtle than Jack, usually doesn't even realize he's doing it
- Definitely the type of person to flip the "lucky cigarette" when he first opens a pack. This has lead him to accidentally putting the end with tobacco in his mouth because he forgot about it, multiple times
- Has really bad road rage. This is why Jack drives
- As his kid self's costume would suggest, he's always dreamed of being a cop. It… definitely isn't what he thought it'd be, that's for sure
- Is bisexual. Did not realize this until he met Jack
- His favorite donuts are caramel glazed
- I just want him to be soft and put down his dang walls
Jack
- Silly cop man!! I love him
- Just a big ol' goofball with a big heart
- Cares a lot for John and would absolutely die for him
- Lowkey I love how he snaps at the end of Tender Treats, like YEAH GET HIS ASS!!!
- Great with kids! Judy adores him
- Has a tea kettle! it's easier to use than a coffee maker in his opinion, he can make things other than coffee with it, and the noise actively reminds him to take it off the stove because he WILL forget otherwise
- Got bullied a lot in school because he was the "weird kid". After he graduated high school Jack left his home town and never looked back
- Became a cop because he wanted to help people. Was not at all prepared for The Horrors
- Is usually the one that patrols the cellblocks
- Bob made a point to give him a fun fact every time Jack passed his cell and Jack got so sick of it, lol. Part of him was glad Bob broke out of jail just because he didn't have to hear it anymore
- That partially attributed to why Jack got so pissed after Bob climbed onto their squad car (alongside y'know, surviving a bullet to the back and 27 to the chest)
- He is autistic :> Like John he wasn't diagnosed, tho Jack's pretty sure he has it and is okay with that
- Wringing/clasping his hands together is a nervous stim. In general Jack's stims usually involve his body, like cracking his knuckles, tapping his foot, or that little shimmy he does in the Newgrounds ending for Deadly Smiles
- Also shakes his fists when he's excited, but tries not to do it at work
- Pranks John sometimes to lighten the mood/make him smile
- Has a surprisingly dark sense of humor
- Literally him not understanding that using the actual dead body of some super cannibal for a joke was so funny (and very mecore)
- After the whole thing with Mr. Clown, Jack had a panic attack in their police car and John had to calm him down :<
- Actually a great cook! It's a hobby for him
- Also loves to bake ^^ this is also a hc I stole from tick-tock, but hey it's sweet (literally) and I like it
- He still gets donuts from GoNuts tho since they make them WAY better than he can
- Always makes his eggs scrambled because regular eggs feel weird to him
- Prior to Deadly Smiles, he didn't take the cult seriously. That changed real fast when they came back to John's house on fire
- Gay gay homosexual gay
- His favorite donuts are chocolate with sprinkles
- Gives great hugs! He's been compared to a walking pillow
- He's just a big softie aaaa
Both
- No thoughts, head empty vs many thoughts, head full
- The OG sun/moon duo next to the thieves
- Jack is the one who catches feelings for John first, and for a while he just. Sits on it not knowing what to do with it
- Like he loves John, he knows he does, but he doesn't know if John feels the same way and really doesn't want to make things awkward between them, or worse case scenario outright ruin their friendship
- John... whoo boy
- Man's just in a big deep pit of denial for the longest time
- Literally Jack was John's bi awakening, so John tried his damn hardest to pass off these feelings as anything else
- When he finally realized "oh god I'm in love with him", his face went bright red (I'm specifically thinking of that one series of sketches by necr0dancin and I REALLY hope people know what I'm talking about)
- Even after that it was still heavy denial because he didn't know if Jack felt the same way, didn't think Jack could love someone like him, AND he still had lingering feelings for Jane, and felt that finding someone new, hell maybe even feeling this way at all, was betraying her
- So yeah John had a lot of roadblocks in comparison kjdfnkjf
- Eventually Jack, with some spurring from Patty (and maybe Captain and Shotgun) does manage to confess. John doesn't know how to feel but god it's a weight off his shoulders knowing Jack feels that way about him too
- Jack meanwhile is so damn happy it's reciprocated! He didn't fuck things up!! Now maybe they can kiss!!!
- It's clumsy and messy as all get out, but they're partners now, in work and in love
- Uhhh okay now that my full-ass setup is out of the way let's get to the cute stuff
- Stress + overworking + his house burning down = that sickness John caught absolutely WRECKS him, he's tired and feels like shit for at least a week. Cue Jack taking care of him, all the while teasing him because he told him that coffee mug was gonna get him sick
- Literally there is so much potential in John and Judy staying at Jack's house after theirs burns down oh my god
- They're both surprising horror movie buffs: John's favorite movie is Nightmare on Elm Street, Jack's is Friday the 13th. Freddy vs. Jason is a guilty pleasure for them both
- Sometimes Jack will lay his chin on John's hair. It's very soft
- If he's okay with it Jack will also run his fingers through John's hair
- The ways they show affection is just. So small but so meaningful.
- Jack keeps a couple cigarettes on him even though he doesn't smoke and doesn't really like John smoking, just in case John runs out
- John listens intently whenever Jack goes on a tangent, and it's one of the few things he's able to fully focus on next to work and his kid
- Enjoying each other in silence, the only sounds being the white noise of a heater or TV
- The damn SIZE DIFFERENCE with these two when they hug and cuddle my word
- They're both forgetful as all hell - fittingly, Jack remembers what John doesn't and vice versa
- They're both absolutely the type of person to walk into a room and immediately go "what did I come in here for again?" tho, sometimes at the same time
- I want them to be soft and in love so bad
Uhhhh okay that's all I can think of atm and I feel I've left this ask sit for a bit too long so. Here you go, enjoy and thanks again for letting me talk about these guys <3
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nsfw alphabet (alex skolnick)
i keep seeing these over on ao3 in the metallica tag so i decided to give it a try myself. imo, these are more headcanon-y type posts than straight fics hence why i’m posting here.
this applies to alex as a whole, from his early days as a scrappy little jewish boy with elder parents to the badass guitarist he is now. might sound contradictory given from what i saw with fever, in how it’s exceptionally difficult to fit a man’s life (or how he feels) in a single sentence. and yet i made it work out throughout this whole thing here.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
this old boy loves to cuddle. you wouldn’t think of him as the cuddly type given how stone-faced he is, but he most definitely is. he’ll put his arms around you and hold you close to his chest: he’ll also bring his nose down to the crown of your head to better absorb your scent. it’s almost as if he’s protecting you.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
alex’s favorite part of his body is undoubtedly his hands. those long, lanky, spidery fingers that creep and crawl about, and when he moves quickly about the guitar neck, he moves quickly on you. think: sitting at the dinner table or watching tv on the couch and he sets a hand on your knee faster than you can read this sentence. or giving you a quick fingering when you’re out in public.
his favorite part of your body is your legs (he is definitely a leg man). nice, shapely legs accentuated by skinny jeans so he can’t take his eyes off of you. cross your legs in front of him and he’ll trip on his words. if he’s eating you out, he’ll kiss the inside of your thighs until you’re ready to come—don’t know how he does it, but he’ll make you come quickly all by manner of caress on his legs.
he likes “imperfections”, too, like stretch marks or freckles. he’s got that gray streak, those deep eyes, that large nose, and that protruding belly now (before then, he was skinny and slim and his tummy was as flat as an ironing board); surely, you’ve got something that makes you feel old, foreboding, ugly, and fat (or too thin), too.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
alex is a “low and slow” kind of guy so he doesn’t cum very easily, and when he finally does, uh... he does (it’s not like… randy marsh peter north levels, but it’s nothing to sneeze at, though). he’s more career focused than anything so you’re not going to get any creampies from him but when he cums, he’s just dying to know what he tastes like to you. expect a lot of oral with him, too - more on that below.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
this poor man gets far too many questions about the gray streak in his hair, namely “is it real” (it is, move tf on). that being said, he genuinely loves it when you run your fingers through that fine little sliver of silver. tell him to hold still so you can fix it for him, and he’ll do it. it’s both his trademark and his greatest source of angst.
he also loves it when you compliment him, like genuinely compliment him: calling him handsome is guaranteed to make him melt into a puddle. he won’t show it right away, but once he shows it, you know you did something.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
had a couple of relationships along the way, and none of them ended too well. he’s no angel, for sure (he’ll admit to it: having tried booze, cigarettes, and lsd when he was still 18/19 and whatnot) but he’s oddly reserved for a lead guitarist, though. you’re not going to find any supermodels or anything like that: he’s quite literally the antithesis of what you expect from a lead guitarist.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
like i said, he’s a hand and tongue kind of guy, but when it comes to the act? good ol fashioned missionary. call him an old bat but hear me out: he’s over your body but you can see him climaxing right before your eyes. he lets you top from the bottom and call him a good boy. he also strikes me as a doggy style kind of guy, too, having that sense of control himself (he’s a libra boy, they like balance).
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
oh, he’s definitely goofy. those deep, ocean blue eyes will seduce you with a singular glimpse but make a dick joke and he’ll let out a big belly laugh. if he’s a bit tipsy, it’s even better (he is so cute when he’s tipsy; drunk alex is too adorable for words). that being said, when he’s in the mood, it is palpable, like you feel it in your soul. that big voice of his softens to the silkiest, huskiest tone ever, that diamond-shaped face softens like that of a puppy, and he’ll give himself to you.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
HO-LY SHIT, that man is groomed. he just looks like he smells good all over.
the carpets do match the drapes.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
being the engine that he is, it’s all contingent on his feelings.
as a young buck out on the road with testament, he’ll start to miss you and want to be close.
as a slightly older but still young buck riding the dark specter over the entire 90s and the 2000s that is no one having a clue what the genres of the decade are, he’ll really start to yearn for your soft touch and your company.
as an older guy, if he’s doing the thing where he’ll play a show with the trio, a show with someone like jane getter, skyping a guitar lesson to a bunch of kids, and then embark a six-week tour with testament all within four days of each other, his energy will probably be sapped and he’ll just want to sleep and read on his one day off, but he is open to a little “wake up”, though, if you know what i mean.
he’s so laid back and content with everything being overwhelming that seeing him genuinely stressed out is actually a rare occurrence, and when it happens, man, do you feel it.
and even then, you ask him “what’s wrong? is everything okay?” and he’ll talk for hours, ESPECIALLY if he’s had a glass of wine.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
hooo boy. he’s a gentleman… but every gentleman enjoys a good dirty joke. and behind every good dirty joke is a feeling of curiosity and desire wrapped in insecurity about two layers deep. when he’s laying in bed before he gets up, he’ll touch a little bit. he touches himself… often, even as he so often crosses his legs as he’s lounging on the couch with his guitar (or gizmo) on his lap. it’s never full masturbation (unless you give him a reason to, like dirty talk) but there’s a reason he’s got big dick energy, though.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
*low whistle*
hand and finger kink. “through his stomach”/belly kink. food kink (and how). “baby boy” kink (call him “baby” or some variation). praise kink. spanking. hickeys (yes, even outside of his youth). role play, him playing the role of the huge nerd or the sexy professor. hair kink. threesomes. teasing. switching. a little bit of pain play, like fingernails or teeth. LEATHER.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
the bed, of course. the couch, too: maybe the floor or outside if you’re in pinch. maybe. you really got to be desperate to do it on the floor in his eyes. i figured this one just yesterday: THE BEACH!
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
compliment his body, for one thing—or just compliment him in some way. he’s got a pretty good bullshit detector, too, so it better be from the heart.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
creampies or anything messy. as naughty and kinky as he is, please please please please please be clean. wash your hands, take a shower or a bath—hell, he might join you in the bath 😉 he’s also not a “breeder” kind of guy, either.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
oral is like, his bread and butter. he’ll want to know what you taste like and his tongue is longer than you might think, too—why do you think he’s so skilled at speaking off the cuff? 🤪 he likes it when blowies include looking straight into his eyes or hands running down his chest and his belly because it’s so pleasurable and intimate for him.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
alexander nathan skolnick… is one of the most sensual human beings ever. it’s funny, too, because you just don’t think of him as that from that stern, stoic resting face and those sharp eyebrows. but he is all touch, though. he is all touch and feel and softness. he is so sweet, and tender, and surprisingly gentle even with those toned thighs and stout arms of his—all the love is in his belly, his chest, and his gray streak. you make him feel gorgeous and sexy, and he’ll return the favor to you.
he is surprisingly vulnerable, too, like when you find a way into him that’s true to you, he’ll be professing his love before you know it. he won’t be afraid to show you those “little boy moments”, either, where he’ll act in a way that makes you literally forget how old he is for about a minute or so.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
alex isn’t crazy about quickies because they’re… well, quick (even as a 16-year-old boy, he wasn’t crazy about them). but if you want one, he’ll be more than happy to oblige.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
…should go without saying.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
as a young buck: he was nothing but endless stamina. black curls fluttering every which way. that exposed chest in your face the whole time.
as an older buck: don’t let that chubby buddha belly shamelessly hanging over his belt fool you. if he can run 3 miles at 5 o’clock in the morning through central park, he can still unquestionably go for a couple of rounds. he’s probably read up on tantric or something, too, when no one’s looking, just… knowing how sensual and touchy-feely he is. if anything, his well-fed pot just adds to it.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he’s got none himself (duh), but if you do, he’ll be happy to experiment. knowing how he is with hands, he’s more a bare-handed kind of guy to get you or himself moving.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
he is the teasest tease that ever teased tease a tease. it ranges from coming up behind you and licking those rainier cherry lips right next to your ear to finding a way to watch you undress (standing in the next room and holding a mirror in front of his face as he’s brushing his hair but he’s also watching you across the hall) to tracing those fingers on the curvature of your hip or your thigh from under the table.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
you know, for a boy with a big voice, he’s awful quiet. when he’s aroused, his voice gets so soft and whispery that he nearly breathes the words. his groans are delicate and soft, and he whimpers a lot, too.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon)
referring to how quiet he is, he loves to watch you in complete silence. if he’s into you, he will watch you from the shadows. he’ll be all eyes on you and no one else. he’ll never tell you that he is really in love with you unless you’re alone with him—and you sometimes wonder if he loves you at all, because rather than be big and boisterous about it like all too many a man in love tends to do, he would rather it sit in silence until he’s ready to emerge from the cool rock, like the scorpion out in the desert.
he’ll sing during the act, too. yeah, he says these excuses about how he’s not much of a singer, but he’ll sing for you, though. he’ll sing anything, but his favorite thing to sing during is pretty much anything from the stones: the beatles are pure and childlike, where the stones are the bad boys.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
he’s of good size, about 5/6 inches. slender, too, so when he penetrates, he slides right in. he wakes up erect quite a bit, much to (both of) your surprise. he’ll be spooning you and you wake up to feel something firm and full up against your ass. he likes the other way, too, like you put your arms around his waist and then feel him below the equator. voilà, free handjob before his cup of coffee!
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
it’s weirdly high, especially once you give yourself to him. alex is stoic, but if you find a way to cut him up, he will not leave you alone. he’ll want to be around you all the time. he’s sad when you’re not around or you can’t make it. he’ll do anything for you—he’ll even keep you a secret, just so the spotlight stays away from you because a real girl and fame don’t mix.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
he will stay up all night with you. if you’re hungry or you want to watch tv, he’ll join you (new york is a big city with a vast nightlife: it’ll be one in the morning and if you want to get ice cream, he’ll put on some pants real quick and come with you just so you aren’t roaming the streets by yourself).
but if you’re tired, had a long day, and that little rendezvous was more than satisfying, he loves a sweet little kiss on the neck and a whispering of “good night, baby”, like it’s sweet dreams for him.
#alex skolnick#testament#testament band#headcanon#nsft alphabet#alphabet series#text#fever in fever out#dead man walking#eerie inhabitants#like blood from a stone#fanfic#fic#head canon#smut
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ateez as boyfriends. ♡
song list: sunsetz- cigarettes after sex, robbers- the 1975, romantic lover- eyedress.
[a/n]: i know i have to finish other things, and i 100% will. i just personally needed some good ole fluff.
genre: fluff, disgusting fluff. requested by anon. <3
——————————-—-♡———————————
seonghwa
he’s very attentive, and of course extra caring when it comes to his partner with his “motherly” status.
not to the point where it’s straight up babying. sometimes. just very sappy.
examples such as: feeding you bites of his food, fixing your hair right, adoring cheek pinches.
he loves to spoil and be cheesy about it.
cheesy as in, you’ve made a personal bouquet of flowers because of how often he’ll give an individual.
they’re too pretty to just toss away.
he’ll cook you your favorite dishes and would literally do it everyday if he could, no exaggeration.
he balances his hefty schedule very well, it isn’t an easy thing to do but you can rely on him even if he’s in italy it seems like.
his favorite type of skinship is holding both your hands while you both converse, or nose kisses.
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hongjoong
this guy will fucking PAMPER you.
you fall asleep without taking off your makeup? boom, serum applied and all.
your nails need a touch up? he will paint them for you.
will literally make your clothes. no joke.
he’ll design couple outfits for the both of you, while making you the coolest shirts and just everything you want.
absolutely loves taking pictures of you and your dates, every photo is treasured then.
if he has a pen in hand and is just off in space thinking of you, he’ll scribble pretty doodles while kicking his feet like a school girl with a crush.
the page will be of sloppy hearts and little things like a field of roses, just from your memory.
favorite type of skinship is when one of you lean on each other, if you’re not laying on his shoulder, he will lay on your’s.
with your arms locked together.
——————————-—-♡———————————
yunho
he is the cut out of a “golden retriever boyfriend”, wow who knew?
never a dull moment with this guy.
is an accidental romantic trope of a man.
if there’s music playing in any room of the dorm, he’ll immediately take your hand and twirl you in your two’s personal ballroom.
you can get away with anything.
you wanna do his makeup? he’s already in the chair.
if you leave him looking absolutely insane and he has tears in his eyes he’ll still give a thumbs up and a “love it, baby.”
he survives off any type of physical contact.
so it’s tough pin pointing a certain one is a favorite.
but he loveslovesloves to completely wrap his arms around you to lift you an inch above the group to dip you while he kisses your entire face and neck while you laugh your head off.
or having you just completely lay on him while he holds you. best bed.
——————————-—-♡———————————
yeosang
he’s like a best friend type of boyfriend.
with his own romantic moments of course.
his favorite times with you are spent at home, or places of significance.
tends to low key be playful or mischievous.
buying a small cake for your first month anniversary, and smearing the frosting on your cheek.
reeeeally enjoys pets.
if you hold his face and rub his cheeks, play with his hair, rub his back— he’s melted.
often gives words of affirmation and comfort for his love language.
type of man to hold you and rock back n’ forth in a dimly lit room.
overall, a very relaxed and easy going person to be with.
his favorite type of skinship is nuzzling into your neck during hugs, or when you kiss his birthmark. very sweet.
——————————-—-♡———————————
san
i see him being the biggest romantic out of the group.
he’s always admiring you. always.
twirling your hair around his finger, giving you all his attention while you’re speaking, having his arm around you while walking.
if you compliment him, he’ll literally scrunch his shoulders and giggle.
look at him adoringly, he’ll look down cause he knows his cheeks are pink.
will go all out on anniversaries or your accomplishments.
your!! hype!! man!!
if he sees you being critical of yourself it’ll go something like:
“euhh… this dress makes my body look—.”
“BEAUTIFUL!! you’re fucking gorgeous!”
he loves any type of skinship from you, but his go to is a good kiss on the lips. cupping your face, he wants you to feel him after you two break away.
——————————-—-♡———————————
mingi
mingi is such a dorky partner it’s cute.
he’s romantic in an almost innocent way, as in he’ll find a flower while you both are walking to hand to you.
whenever he goes on tour, he leaves you a shirt of his while you exchange your perfume or something he can hold.
lays his chin on your head from behind.
wholesome things like taking selfies of your shadows in romantic positions.
often tangles his fingers in your hair while massaging your scalp.
loves when you greet him with sweet names.
say “hello, handsome,” while you two hug and he will purr.
his favorite position for skinship is having you sit on his lap while you face him.
you can either hug, hold each other casually, and gives perfect access for kisses.
speaking of, kisses between words happen every single conversation.
it’s as normal for him as it is getting out of bed.
——————————-—-♡———————————
wooyoung
this guy will make his person feel like the only one on earth.
it’s not a surprise, seeing how he treats his friends already.
gets so excited to see you, even if you come back from the grocery store.
even though the relationship is there, he will flirt as if he’s on a mission.
winks when you make eye contact.
is so extra, the type to dip you before a kiss.
would also break out into dance if a certain moment comes up with you, the bedroom will become a dance floor.
always holds onto you in anyway he can. literal hugs, intertwining your hands, he just needs the touch.
with skinship he goes for straight up kisses, doesn’t matter where.
just kiss him.
——————————-—-♡———————————
jongho
being the youngest, he’s likely the least experienced.
but he’s absolutely a good partner.
you literally see a different side of him.
he’s such an active boyfriend.
brushing your hair, occasionally styling you, helping you shop for clothes.
he’ll massage your back if you’re sore, carry you to bed when you pass out.
doesn’t quite know how to handle compliments and praise.
he’ll fidget and huff with a warm face.
if you have trouble sleeping, he becomes a personal music box full of lullabies.
if a member or someone in his family asks about you, get ready to sit for awhile.
man can go on forever.
his favorite type of skinship is probably obvious.
neck kisses!! giving and receiving.
#kpop#kpop fanfic#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#ateez has boyfriends#fluff#ateez scenarios#ateez fluff#ateez reactions#ateez reader insert#kpop fluff#kpop scenarios#kpop fic#boyfriend scenarios#seonghwa#hongjoong#yunho#yeosang#san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho
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RANDOM HCS
Tag(s): @peppermint2d @krisquote @unfortu-nate-ly
I hit 500 followers recently, and I'm honestly so fucking grateful!! The fact that I've been able to reach and make half a thousand people happy with my writing makes me wanna cry 🥺 I love you all!!
I also couldn't think of anything for my boy Russel 😔✊🏼 I'm sorry fellow Russ lovers, I need to delve more into his lore
↳ CHARACTER(S): 2-D, Murdoc Niccals, Noodle (Gorillaz)
↳ WARNING(S):Mentions of AFAB Reader, Mentions of Cigarettes, Cheating, Slight NSFW, A Bit of Angst (mostly on 2-D's)
↳ TYPE: Headcanons
2-D
- 2-D once shoved a cigarette up his nose in an attempt to do a ‘reverse smoke’. It.. it didn't go well.
- You ended up having to find a way to forcibly make him sneeze so he could get the ashes out of his nostrils, his snot was spotty for weeks.
- This, surprisingly, was the event that made him stray from cigs for a few months.
--
- He really likes it when you play with his hair, most and if any contact on his head would be physical abuse coming from Murdoc, and the gentle movements of your fingers rubbing his scalp are enough to make him forget any of that.
- His hair is pretty long too, and he allows you to experiment with it as long as you'd like. Anything to just lay his head on your chest and feel your delicate hands massage his head.
--
- “Whaddya mean my normal voice isn't the same as my singin' voice? They sound the same to me!”
- Acts like he can't tell the difference between his speaking and singing voice. He can. Don't fucking believe him. He's spent years with Murdoc Faust Niccals, he knows how to be a snarky little shit.
- It's the perfect way to annoy you. You ask him to sing for you, and suddenly you're met with the most horrendous version of Souk Eye that you've ever had the displeasure to hear.
- “What? Yew asked me ta' sing didn't yew?”
- Bastard.
--
- 2-D may not be the most confident, but he knows he’s a handsome guy, and honestly? He likes it when you get jealous over him. Gives him a sense of acknowledgement, and also your cute angry little pout makes him melt.
- “Aw luv, is someone a lil' jealous?”
- No, 2-D, no one's jealous over the lady stripper fawning over you, fuck right off.
- Seriously though, he loves you- poor guy still hasn't recovered from the Paula Cracker Incident, and he treats you like gold. 'D knows what it feels like to be cheated on and..it's not good.
--
- Hates it when you call him by his real name, hates it. He won't stop you from saying it, he realizes it's kind of weird to call your significant other by their stage name, but he's gotten so used to 2-D that hearing the words “Stuart Pot” makes him cringe.
- It reminds him of his days before Gorillaz, when he didn't have to worry about his position in bed because of how much blood will flow to his eyes, or when he didn't have to wake up shaking and looking out his window to make sure the god damned whale wasn't out there.
- There are only a few special occasions where he'll happily respond to you saying his real name, and most of those are in bed when he's bent between your legs. (;
MURDOC NICCALS
- You're the only one he allows to touch El Diablo, after the deal with good ol' Satan, he's pretty paranoid about it.
- He's almost broken 2-D's wrist because of it, so consider yourself pretty lucky that he loves you. It's the reason why both of your hands are intact.
- “No, luv that's not- you don't hold it like that- okay give it- give it to me.”
--
- Now, Murdoc trusts you, and he truly loves you, but if you ever, ever tell anyone that every Saturday the two of you have a movie night with Hot Cocoa and snuggles, he will fucking obliterate you.
- His favorite movie is Bride Wars
- He's not seen as a touchy guy, and Satan forbid that anyone in the band finds that out. He kidnapped people for fuck's sake, his reputation would be ruined if people found out he likes sprinkles in his whipped cream!
--
- Much like 2-D, you can't tell me that Murdoc doesn't like making you jealous. He likes aggressiveness in his partners, and the way you forcefully pull him away whenever he flirts with someone makes him want to pound you into the mattress.
- He thinks it's all fun and games, you should know he'd never leave you! At the end of the night, you're the one he's making scream.
- “Oh c'mon dearest! You can't seriously think I'd ever leave you for that.”
- Doesn't understand how insecurity works, but give him a break. Anytime you call him out on it he just blames fucking Sebastian. Or Jacob. At this point he can't even remember.
--
- Although he may try to act like he's only in it for the fame, Mudz truly does love the band. Once you finally got to meet them he tried his best to stray you away from them, but after a while he got used to you and their shenanigans.
- Watching you build relationships with each of them honestly makes his non-existent heart swell, you somehow have enough charisma and charm to match their extremely different characters, and anytime he sees it he falls in love just a bit more.
- He doesn't like how you and Noodle have “Men Ain't Shit” nights though, it pisses him off.
NOODLE
- Noodle absolutely despises the DARE music video, so fucking much. She's embarrassed by any content from her teen years, and she finds the dancing in that video horrendous.
- Not only that, since she provided the vocals in that song -plus some backups from 2-D- she feels absolutely petrified anytime she hears her own voice.
- The fact that the video has 206 million views kills her.
- “Y/N, don't you even try.” “.....” “Y/N.” “....You've got, to press it on you-” “くそったれ!”
--
- If you can play any instruments, please play them for her. It seems pretty stupid considering she can play a bunch of instruments, but hearing your own talent applied gives her butterflies.
- She makes you play for hours.
- When she was a kid she'd quite literally force 2-D to play her favorite songs on the keyboard until his hands hurt, you think she's gonna let you up because you're tired? Hah!
- No.
--
- Noodz has organized a weekly Spa Day between the two of you, Russel, and 2-D. Don't ask why Murdoc isn't invited, just don't.. don't ask.
- She has access to some really good Japanese self care products, plus those really stupid and unnecessary products that only exist for shits and giggles.
- “Noodle- the avocado face mask isn't edible-” “But it's made of Avocado!” “Noodle, no-”
--
- Boobs. Boobies. Tibbies. Big ol' tits.
- You cannot tell me that this girl does not love tiddies. After a long day in the studio, she just dives head first into those soft pillows.
- Spending so long with three men kind of..does things to a woman. Years of watching Mudz or 2-D bring big chested ladies into their rooms sparked something inside tiny Noodle.
- And if you just happen to have big boobies? Man, just brace yourself for some old fashioned loving. And lingerie. So much lingerie.
#Gorillaz#Gorillaz Headcanons#2-D Gorillaz#2-D x Reader#Stuart Pot x Reader#Murdoc Niccals Gorillaz#Murdoc Niccals x Reader#Noodle Gorillaz#Noodle x Reader#2D x Reader
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I know that it'll probably never happen, but I want Dynamite Joe to come back. Joe was one of Jigen's exes who had no ill will against him and didn't want to outright kill Jigen and they didn't have the usual "Jigen shot him so they crave vengeance" or "He shot Jigen and Jigen runs into him and gets his revenge" thing Jigen's exes usually have, it was more of a "You're loud and annoying and I couldn't stand being with you for long periods of time" type thing.
Here's what I dream of: Lupin actually asking Jigen to call Joe because they need help dealing with an explosive neither of them know how to use, for a job. At first Jigen is irritated by Joe's presence and acts like he doesn't want him around but as time passes, Jigen actually becomes more comfortable with Joe as they start talking and joking about their history together and all the excitement and close calls they had, and Jigen actually laughs at one of Joe's stupid jokes, a laugh Lupin's never heard before.
This drives Lupin to become jealous because Jigen is getting closer to Joe and semi-ignoring Lupin. So Lupin does what they all do when they're fustrated. He goes and rants to Goemon about it
"I can't believe this ! Jigen didn't even want the guy on the job but now he's all cuddled up to him ! I walked in on them watching Spaghetti Westerns together ! He and Jigen were sharing a cigarette and drinking whiskey !"
"You sound just like him."
"What are you talkin' about, Goe ?"
"You sound just like Jigen whenever he starts ranting to me when you bring Fujiko around and ignore him for her, but you don't do it with just Fujiko either. Now you feel what he feels."
This actually opens Lupin's eyes because right now, he's feeling frustrated and terrible and hates feeling this way, so he feels worse when he realizes he's been putting Jigen through the same thing for years. He then deflects the conversation.
"I don't see what Jigen sees in him. He's a loud mouth, he's cocky, he's arrogant, crude and his jokes suck !"
"Then you should be asking yourself what Jigen sees in you, you just described some of your own personality traits.",
And Lupin just looks at him in shocked and stunned silence and wants to go off because how dare Goemon have the audacity to imply that he was anything like Joe but doesn't because he knows that secretly, Goemon is right.
But instead of just talking to Jigen, he comes up with "Operation: Stop Joe From Stealing Away My Husband." which leads into a bunch if shenanigans of Lupin trying to subtly sabotage Joe, only for them to backfire on him and making Jigen think he's the one fucking up.
After the job, that went rougher than expected, Joe's about to take off, saying goodbye to Jigen in private but Lupin eavesdrops and hears Joe ask Jigen to come back to him and give their relationship one more chance and how it'll be just like old times but this time, Joe would be a better man to Jigen and treat him like he deserves to be treated.
Lupin obviously assumes the worst and leaves before he can hear Jigen answer because he's afraid that if he actually hears Jigen accept Joe's offer, he wouldn't be able to take it and that night, he sees Jigen leave with Joe and his heart breaks and he goes to Goemon in shambles and just falls into his arms.
"He left this time.. for real... I should have treated him better..."
"You were the best partner you could be."
"I could've been better....I've lost him Goe..."
And he practically spends the night breaking down in Goemon's arms before he goes to drink his sorrows away.
Then the morning comes and just as Goemon is giving Lupin some tea for his massive hangover, Jigen comes through the door much to Goemon and Lupin's shock because Lupin thought he was gone for good and because of Lupin's reaction, Goemon really thought Jigen had left.
"Why're you here....? Here to say your goodbyes ?"
"What the hell are you talking about ?"
"You n Joe were gonna run off and be a happy couple just like the good ol days, right ?"
"You didn't hear the whole thing."
"I heard what I needed to hear and saw you leave with him !"
"You're an idiot."
And Jigen has to sit him down and tell him that he rejected Joe's offer and that they only left to go for a ride and get one more drink and cigarette together and lost track of time before Joe dropped him off and went on his way and Lupin just feels like a dumbass and Goemon is too tired to deal with this so he goes to bed.
"So just to get this straight, you're not leaving me for Joe ?"
"For the umpteenth time, no."
And Lupin does the thing where he jumps into Jigen's arms and clings to him and peppers his face with kisses.
"Even though you're stupid, I'm stickin' with you for the long term, partner."
"I'm so relieved to hear that."
"I really can't believe you thought I'd run off with Joe of all people, I could only stand being married to the guy for a few months before breaking it off, he always left hair and toothpaste in the sink and always clogged the drain after washing his hair and never did the dishes."
"....."
"Lupin ?"
"YOU WERE MARRIED TO HIM ?!? I THOUGHT HE WAS AN EX BOYFRIEND ?!?"
"Weren't you married three times ?"
"....."
"Exactly."
#lupin x jigen#lupin the third#lupin the 3rd#lupin iii#lupin and jigen#dynamite joe#jigen daisuke#daisuke jigen#goemon ishikawa xiii#luji#jiglup#lupjig#jigen's exes#there's so many fics about Jigen always hurting#i wanted Lupin to hurt this time
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Wallflower AU (aka highschool au made w/ @bellfort3)
V i b e s
- hanging on the roof; walking across train tracks; skipping school; Lakes, yes, something with lakes; something with different types of sodas.
- My angsty teens are gonna have painted nails
- Tommy bleaches his hair; Wilbur dyes his hair black - dramatic fuck.
- Wilbur in eyeliner plz
- Wilbur wears doc martens; black, yellow, maroon, silver shiny
- Tommy's worn the same exact jean jacket for the past 5 years; it's 2 sizes bigger than he is; but he wears it every single day; it has fur on the inside; and its light washed with tears; the tears didn’t come like it; he's just ripped it over the years
- He doesn't wash it very often, but he's glued patches on it, and Wilbur's drawn on it in sharpie. He just layers hoodies or flannels under it when it’s cold, but still wears it when it's hot
- Tommy's also worn the same shoes for YEARS, they’re duct taped together at this point, they're white converse, they're not white anymore, and he's bleach-washed them SO many times that they permanently smell like chemicals.
- The laces are frayed, so bad that he doesn’t even wear the laces most days.
- Tommy doesn't shy from going in mud or water though, he'll wear the shoes to their fullest and then some.
- I think you can tell by now, that Tommy just doesn’t come from a lot of money.
- They live in a kind of run down town, very poor, old, smallish.
- Wilbur is middle class, which is very well off in the area he lives in.
- Wilbur gives off family disappointment vibes. Where he has to sneak out at night, Tommy can leave through his front door.
- Wilbur calls Tommy “sunshine”, but very sarcastically since Tommy is a dick :)
- Tommy has one of Wilbur's old beanies; it's black and monster branded, the monster logo is green
- Wilbur gave it to Tommy 3 years ago, and Tommy never gave it back
- btw Tommy's 17 and Wilbur's 19: Tommy's a junior and Wilbur's a senior
- Wilbur only drinks Green Apple Monster
- Tommy drinks sugar free redbull, but mostly only when Wilbur buys it for him, because Tommy usually doesn't have pocket change
- Wilbur and Tommy bring speakers to the train tracks and dance and by that, its them jumping around and occasionally pushing someone over
- Tommy uses his allowance to buy cigarettes; Wilbur vapes - both mentally ill
- Wilbur is essentially the modern emo. He has this one yellow and black flannel that's oversized, and he wears it multiple times a week - it’s a problem.
- Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo
- That’s the group.
- I have just been talking about Tommy and Wilbur but they are the main characters so you can suck it.
- A scene with Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo, at a lake, throwing each other in, and Tommy gets his shoes soaked, but he saves his jacket from the fall. Water gun fights, and they drink energy drinks and eat chips. they lay in the grass and contemplate life, Talk abt life yes. Abt existence. Abt how shit it is. Half of them have to wake up early and sneak home, the other half get to stay as long as they like.
- Tommy tucks his t-shirts into his pants, which are always very baggy black jeans with just gigantic holes.
- Tommy and Dream both have ADHD, however, Tommy's meds are purely from welfare, he cannot afford to give any out. Dream however? From an upper-middleclass family. Basically millionaires in this town. He can afford to lose some of his meds.
- He yells in the clearing "COME GET YOUR DRUGS CHILDREN"
- Besides, I've learned that there are like so many different ADHD meds, and maybe Tommy is just on something a lot stronger than adderall. He can't partake in the pill popping, but he doesn't mind. He does it every morning.
- They don't do it often, maybe once a month, depends on how big Dream's prescription is - not that he regularly takes them like a good boy should
- And I won't ever write this, but Gogy hangs out with them every so often, in which Gogy and Wilbur have an on and off again hooking up type relationship
- whenever they hang out, Gogy like sits and Wilbur's lap and shit - Tommy and Punz GAG
- "EW the fuck - get your hands off eachother. ITS GROSS - NO PDA IN MY BACKYARD"
- They hang out in an abandoned Building. But they don't try to fix it up. They're not fucking VSCO girls. They just want somewhere to hang out
- If anything they make it worse - they fucking trash the place
- It’s not intentional though - It’s like they can have fun without worrying abt the mess
- just, sometimes they spill hawiian punch mixed with vodka everywhere
- THEY GHOST HUNT AND OUIJA BOARD AND SHIT
- They hang out in cemeteries too. they play manhunt in a cemetery, but like the regular version- like just hide and go seek in the dark.
- they've done seances even though almost all of them are atheists
- anyways the point of the fact is, is that half of them (excluding the minors you know) I'm looking at you Karl and Q - somethings going on between you two have made out with guys, and I'm not gonna sugar coat it, most modern like takes on religion do not take kindly to that
- they go to prom
- and Dream somehow ends up with a ton of weed, because he had just turned old enough, and had the money
- and they get fucking high OUT of their minds, like they're never doing it again
- like, George and Wilbur definitely hooked up at Wilbur's house, which they aren't supposed to do - because Wilbur's parents will fucking flip that Wilbur is sleeping with a random person. No one is quite sure where SapNap ended up, and Tommy lost one of his shoes. In a panic, they spent the next 3 hours looking for it to find it at the lake by the school - Tommy fucking cradles it to his chest.
- (are wilburs parents homophobic?) (yes maybe a little side of homophobia) (Is wilbur bisexual or gay?) (he is ‘whoever the fuck looks bangable’) (fair enough) (he is ‘gogy my king’) (TRUUUE)
- the bleachers - they hang out under the bleachers
- Gogy = Stylish stoner
- very popular, but never not high
- Karl is like the goody two-shoes of the group, doesn't skip class, and is on the principals list, however, he will NEVER back down from space brownies - its his weakness
- Tubbo has a subway pass, and they do that thing where Tubbo swipes it and everyone fucking bolts into the subway, and they take all the trains at like 4am and just hang from the bars and shit
- Wilbur still dresses relatively like, nicely and scholarly, which puts everyone off. He wears very loose sweaters with button-ups underneath. with khakis or black jeans and his docs
- where his best friend, our Tommy, wears borderline yellow converse, and one bleached two-sizes-too-large jean jacket, and some second-hand-store hoodies, that are always a bit too worn in, but so, incredibly Tommy
- Tommy who legit hasn't brushed his hair in years, not with a brush anyways - too frantic to brush his teeth most mornings. but always chewing gum; Tommy's always everywhere at once
- ADHD meds only half-working on him, they couldn't afford the good shit
- He'll never quite understand Dream handing out his adderall for free, Tommy would kill for the hard shit, but hey, he's never gonna stop his friends from having a good time
- Let's talk about Karl Jacobs
- good ole' goody two shoes Jacobs
- all of his teachers are constantly trying to get him to stop hanging out with Tommy and gang
- every parent teacher conference is "we love your boy, but we are concerned about his friends"
- Teachers have meetings with him, about how the people you surround yourself with can change your future
- Karl's like, from the good side of town, plays first in the drumline, plays violin on the side, straight a's, clean-white-air-force-ones type of guy. Name brand clothes. Combed hair
- Packed lunch every day from his mom; gets dropped off by his mom, kisses her goodbye; Mom is like very involved in school too - PTA parent
- it's fucking good kid Jacobs
- and he's sneaking off with fucking potheads to go to college parties and abandoned buildings
- Does he do drugs? Well, he’s a big fan of treats if you know what I mean :wink wink:
- ….you ever see Ted's video about a 500mg edible …. yeah.
- big fan of gummy bears and brownies
- Karl shows up to Parties and there are shouts of "Fuckin' goody-two-shoes Jacobs is HERE"
- a lot of people make fun of him and think they can push him around - He seems like a softie; welcome mat type beat
- but fucking watch this man chug 5 cups of whatever you give him, and then still win beer pong - Like his best friend is fucking quackity, he can do the hard shit
- its very much a his parents have no clue who he actually is type beat
- Look, his parents have no clue where he is ever
- And if they even know he’s out, they don’t know where or with who
- If his mom is at all involved in the school, she'll hear about Quackity, basically a drug dealer with how much hash weed he hands out on a daily basis.
- Tommy has to be contained in order for the school to run smoothly, and Wilbur is a dramatic fuck that sleeps through most of his classes
- Tommy has to take frequent breaks
- They make him spend 3rd period in the principles office
- Like he obviously needs help but he can’t afford it at all. Even the school can’t do anything for him bc he can’t get anything official for himself - like he can't even try to concentrate
- He gave up so quickly in high school, bc they don’t have enough time or staff to help him
- he tried in middle school - but man, did he give up in highschool
- Yeah. He knows it is hopeless. Can't even afford college anyway. he'll just do whatever Wilbur does
- here's an idea: Fucking Karl Jacobs showing up to school one morning just absolutely hammered out of his mind
- Karl just showing up to first period AP Physics, and he's barely awake, honestly smells so much like weed and booze, and if he breathed anywhere near you, you could just feel the alcohol radiating from his breath
- He's extra bubbly, laughs at everything - takes out his notebook to take some sort of notes, and just fucking giggles at the shapes and equations. He is very spacy, he clearly stayed up all night doing something very illegal; he gets up and jumps around. 2nd period band? oh boy
- He gets sick at lunch bet
- Like everyone got Drunk but Karl got FUCKED up
- It was his birthday, bet
- He took like 17 shots over the course of like 8 - 12ish hours, and I looked it up, despite karl being super scrawny and probably like 140 - 150ish pounds - which isn't a lot for being 5'11 - will not kill him
- BECAUSE, you guessed it, he turned 17
- He didn't sleep, he was awake taking shots and just fucking who knows what until 6am when they stumbled to school
- at lunch, 11:30 in the morning
- he's head down on the table, miserable
- he doesn't have a hangover yet, because it's only been a few hours, but man, is he nauseous - just the smell of food makes his stomach churn
- and the thing about fucking Jacobs showing up drunk as hell - is that at least one of his teachers has called his mom about it
- SHES PRESIDENT OF THE PTA FOR FUCKS SAKE, ONE OF THEM KNOWS HER
- And the teachers aren't stupid, Karl is so obviously drunk
- generally Karl is pretty quiet in class; but now he has no distinction between hanging with hs friends and being in class - he's shouting and cracking jokes and is very tempted to kick his chair over
- Anyways, Karl fucks himself over, end of story
- ONTO PUNZ’S RELGIEOUS TRAUMA WOOOOOOOOOOOO
- It's Punz
- fuckin' golden boy Punz; he plays football; and goes to church; and calls his mother "momma"; wears a nice church outfit; and is polite to the bible study mothers that come over on tuesday nights and gets them drinks
- just a fuckin' golden boy
- A religious family. Go to church every Sunday. Sunday school. Holidays. But. The kid just realizes that they don’t believe in god. Them telling the group like they’re high and he’s like “you know? Some of the shit that’s happened to us proves to me that god rlly isn’t real.”
- and Punz like prays every day for Tommy's dad to get his job back; or for Gogy to get better parents; or for Karl to live the life he wants; and NOTHING EVER WORKS. THEY'RE ALL STILL FUCKED.
- by the way we will get the the Tommy's dad losing his job later
- But Punz's life is controlled by something he doesn't even believe in anymore
- because he's still going to the like church breakfasts, and christmas service, and every sunday morning, and helping his mom's ladies bible study, and his parents are talking about sending him to a youth bible camp -
- and he doesn't even think he believes in god anymore.
- Punz kind of took out his own personal, religious, and family struggles out the way most teenage boys do. Drinking, and lots of sex.
- SO I just imagined this like, really dramatic moment, where its the morning after Punz had a one night stand at some sort of party down the street, and he's long past saving his virginity for his wife, but he's buying her the morning after pill, which his church is just so against, and he has like the moment of, "if you do this, you're done." and he does it
- he's had a couple of those moments, like, when he first had sex, and when he first smoked weed, or popped a pill, or snuck out at night, or skipped church - but that was the moment of "there is no going back"
- like any type of drug or procedure that aborts an embryo, or that blocks fertilization thats already in process in like: the biggest no no in his church community
- so once he stepped out of that drug store, he kind of took a breath, and just came to terms with it
- "I'm an atheist."
- Punz is the pastors son.
- he's like, pre-commited to a catholic college - he’s in deep.
- so when he first announces it to his friends, one really late night, "I think god might not be my thing."
- they just start whistling and say "FINALLY, THE PASTORS SON HAS TURNED AROUND."
- Dream just like turns over to him "how many chicks did you fuck to make you realize that?"
- Tommy just slings his arm over Punz, "I'm glad you've quit the Jesus shit, Punz. Your better than it."
- There’s gotta be this girl ok. He rlly rlly wants to have sex with her but he always backs out. The thing that breaks him. Is that he gets drunk and loses his virginity to someone who is not that girl
- like, he likes this girl, and has a good connection with her, and she likes him, and he knows that its gonna be comepletly consentual, and she's like fucking beautiful right? - and she's the one he wants to loose it to
and he's a stupid fucking idiot and loses it to some fucking random ass chick that doesn't even go to their school
- This triggers a spiral. After that? He slowly starts giving less of a fuck abt everything. He fucked up the one thing you can’t do over and god he’s so painfully aware of it and so painfully aware that he didn’t even fuck up right.
- You’re supposed to wait till marriage. Nope. You’re supposed to do it with someone you love and trust. Double nope. He. Fucked. Up.
- its just like he wanted to do something bad. he wanted to fuck something up. he was questioning his faith, his like, great and sturdy and always-there faith for the first time, and what better way to test faith than to do something shitty and see what comes of it. and so he was planning and planning and planning how he was gonna do this terrible thing - which is such a good kid thing to do, to put so much thought into your own rebellion - but he wanted this to go perfectly.
- Little Pastors Son, Punz, wasn't gonna wait till marriage.
- He was gonna have sex with the girl of his dreams before they were even dating - but man did he like her. Did he want her.
- And then he fucked some random girl when he was black out drunk. He's fucked everything up - he can't wash this away with confession - he's tainted. He's dirty.
- He looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize the heathen staring back.
- He hates who he's become.
- But he never goes back - he can't. He's dirty. He's wrong.
- but the more he goes down the spiral - the more he realizes that one mistake shouldn't have made him feel like that
- that if god was real, which he honestly wasn't sure in that department, he wouldn't want Punz to feel like the scum of the earth for doing something wrong. especially when he felt so bad after he did it. This system was fucked. He didn't want to be apart of another cycle
- and he's just lying to himself every time he goes to church, and reads a cerse for his mom, and meets with younger kids at the church, and plays flag football with fucking church virgins who are good catholics and follow all their mommas orders
- And every night when he says grace he means it less and less. he always does it when his momma asks, but boy does the lords word mean shit to him anymore
From Ethan:
- A turning point to the others in Punz's breakaway from Catholicism is like
- He prays before he eats, usually. Sometimes they wait for him to finish his prayer before eating themselves, just out of politeness. He's a friend, he gets that shred of etiquette
- And then one day he just doesn't. They got some fast food for a whole group dinner out at their hangout spot (a warehouse, did you say??) Tommy is staring at it intently but he waits for Punz to pray. Tubbo's already started eating but the rest wait
- And Punz just starts eating
- Dream nudges him, "No prayer, Pastor's boy?"
- "No prayer," Punz mumbles into his food. "I'm trying something new."
SO, TOMMYS DAD LOSING HIS JOB ARC W000000000
- it starts with Tommy showing up in a different jacket one day
- like you have to understand, he's worn this jean jacket every single day for as long as WIlbur has known him, which is like 6 years
- Like Tommy shows up in this giant, khaki work-jacket and it's his dads...
- HIS DAD DIDNT DIE
- his dad lost his job, which is essentially death to a family who already couldn't sustain themselves
- and Tommy shows up to school, face pale and cheeks sunk in and there are visible bags under his eyes
- and Wilbur just rushes over immediately and hugs him so tight to his chest
- and Tommy just sobs, "pops lost his job -" gasp "I can't - we can't pay the bills this month. everything - its all falling apart Will."
- "Hey - hey. Stop. It's gonna be fine. You're gonna be okay. You always are dude."
- Tommy does have to get a job
- and he probably does drop out of school unofficially, like he just stops going.
- he sleeps during the morning classes, and heads into work at 10am
- he's a carpenters assistant. it pays well as they need young, able men. but most of the younger citizens in the town go to school
- he has to take the day shift because the day shift pays better
- he doesn't mind it, he doesn't - it gives him the opportunity to get all of his energy out; but he misses going to school. as much as he hated it, he misses his friends.
- and lets be honest, its hard as fuck for his dad to find a new job, he doesn't have a great resume - he didn't graduate from highschool. and he isn;t in top health condition, he definitely doesn't have health insurance
- so Tommys stuck with this job for a long time
- his dad uses his last paycheck to buy Tommy workboots so tommy feels in debt to him
- He’ll get his GED eventually.
- I think
- The like religious status of the rest of the group brought to you by me
- Everyone who I don’t mention is just a hard atheist
- Karl and Wilbur are catholic, but to a lesser extent, Wilbur doesn't really go through with lent, and Karl only sometimes does. They go to a different church and go pretty much on holidays only, a sunday a month maybe.
- SapNap goes to Punz's church, they've been friends for years.
- He goes to sunday school but misses a lot of sermons because of his siblings sports games.
- He is involved, but not to the way Punz is - SapNap's mother is in fact in Punz's moms bible group
- Punz sometimes doesnt attend the bible group and Sap's mother is all "now you tell that pastor's boy to actually attend next time, got it?" and Sapnap dies a little on the inside
- And George is an orthodox christian, but he's pretty much quit due to the blatant homophobia he's seen at his church.
AND NOW ON WILBUR SOOT AND KARL JACOBS AND BARKING
- Wilbur has siblings, fun fact
- that we will never talk about or address
- but definitely nothing like Wilbur, more the Karl Jacobs type
- Wilbur is the oldest. he's always lectured about being 'a good influence on your brother and sister.'
- They’re big sports kids. Softball and Basketball (tall genes). Straight Bs; Bed by 10pm; Have never missed school
- Parents pride and joy :)
- Just good suburban kids, Have friends next door, help the neighbors, attend the cul-de-sac barbecues.
- Basically who Wilbur used to be up until highschool (until Wilbur met weed and a good group of stoners)
- Sure he was a disappointment and he had no clue what to do with his life - But he was happier
- Never really liked being the goody- two-shoes boy next door, he doesn't know how karl does it “Playing good boy like a dog”
- Also he used dog terms around Karl
- Because he’s “Playing good boy like a dog”
- He’ll throw Karl a beer and smile “go fetch”
- He laughs so hard when he sees Karl be good in a class or play it up for his parents; Because Wilbur’s so past trying
- Wilbur will walk by and just bark at karl. Bet. Just Growls lowly; Walks in a circle; Anything to make Karl’s parents (or Wilbur’s own) stare at him and scurry away
- Karl’s parents push Karl forward and like hold their younger kids close to their chest, whispering “keep close, don’t look at him”
- They tell Karl to stay away from kids like him.
- And boy do Wilbur’s pa#rents hate it, They push him along and whisper yell at him As he throws his head back and cackles
- I mean imagine, like a stereotypical middle class suburban family: House wife, blue collared father, Two kids; in sports jerseys, Girl in braids, boy in khakis
- And then there’s Wilbur: Doc Martins, black jeans, collar and sweater, beanie. Definitely high on something
- Chains LOTS OF CHAINS
- And he's Barking. Fucking Barking At the nice family down the street
- And then he takes out his vape right in front of his parents and silently offers Karl a hit with a smirk
- Cause Karl’s too busy playing good boy
- And as Karl’s family looks back, as Wilbur is corralled by his mom
- He flips them off with the biggest smirk uou will ever see
- Wilbur's kind of an ass
- And Karl really wants a hit of that vape.
#wallflower au#wilbursoot#tommyinnit#karl jacobs#quackity#sapnap#and Big Q#georgenotfound#gogy#punz#dream#dreamwastaken#tubbo#long post
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‘Tis the season of re-gifting
[This is another super late 12 Days of Christmas fic]
Pairing: Faith x reader
Request: Can you please write a Faith x reader story where they’re both scooby’s but they’re not very close and haven’t really gotten to know each other but since neither of them have a family to celebrate Christmas with they decide to spend the day with each other and bond?
Requested by: Anon
Warning: Alcohol consumption. Reader isn’t close with their family and isn’t a massive fan of Christmas (or Santa).
You had never really been the biggest fan of Christmas. You didn’t hate it, but you weren’t as in love with it as everyone else seemed to be either. You didn’t really have anyone to celebrate with, which was the first issue. Your loneliness could be felt much more deeply at this time of year, you usually spent Christmas Day alone.
You and Faith weren’t close. You hadn’t even spoken that many times, you knew each other by association. She was a slayer and you were a Scooby, so she was around a lot. But there just hadn’t been enough in common for you both to initiate conversation.
You didn’t dislike her, you were kind of indifferent. Willow had been a little jealous what with her thinking Faith was poaching her best friend. But you weren’t so bothered by that.
You had been in the library, reading a book. You had slid the dust jacket of a research-related book over the book you were actually reading. You could never just come into the school library and read for fun without Giles’ judgement. It wasn’t a relaxing environment when he cleared his throat every so often in disapproval. He always insisted that there were so many more important things you could be reading other than the fiction that you indulged in.
The library had been decorated for Christmas, rather tastefully by Giles. It had a cosy feeling that you appreciated. It didn’t make you any less lonely, but it allowed you to be lonely in a pleasant ambiance at least.
Faith had walked in and found that you were the only one in the library. She was bored so she decided to speak with you. She spoke as she walked towards you but you didn’t reply.
She pulled the book down so it lay flat on the table. You hadn’t realised she had been speaking to you. You were escaping to some other place, you had forgotten you were in the school library.
“Busted” She teased when she saw what you were hiding, which made you roll your eyes and smile.
“Don’t tell Giles – he’ll have me alphabetising things again seeing as I have free time”
“You could just say no”
“And face Giles’ wrath? That’s worse than any big bad around here” You said solemnly which actually made her laugh through her nose and nod. She grabbed a chair, facing it towards her and sitting on it backwards.
You had never even on her radar really. She saw you as quiet. Which, you weren’t really. You just didn’t speak unless you had something to contribute. And Faith was sort of the action type leaving you with little space to speak.
You were about to go back to your book when she found herself not wanting to finish the interaction. She found herself wanting your attention. She saw something, a similarity maybe. You both felt like you were on the periphery. She hadn’t been watching you but she was perceptive. She knew the way you withdrew and read or sat away from people more often than involving yourself in the centre of the group.
“You all plannin’ some big Scooby party?” She asked before you could start reading again. You looked at her confused, “For the big day? Christmas?” She added when you still looked a bit confused. Oh. The big day.
“We don’t really do that. Uh, Giles leaves to England. Will’s Jewish and Xander and Buffy have the big family fun-day. So, we don’t really see each other until after”
“What about you?” she noticed you hadn’t spoken about your own plans.
“Me?” You were surprised she asked, “I don’t really… have anything to do”
“Huh. Me either” Faith admitted, looking at the floor for a moment before she looked back up and smiled, “We should do something. Bond, right? Me and you” She said with a bit of a humour in her voice.
So, you planned it. I mean, in so far as you said yes let’s not be alone you can come to my place. And she nodded and suggested a time. Faith had actually expected a rejection from you, which is why she phrased it the way she did. To play it off as a joke later.
But you had nothing to lose and nothing against her. She was actually secretly pleased she wasn’t going to have to hear the festive argument from the motel next door that would have been her only entertainment.
Christmas Day came and Faith came by in the afternoon. You had slept in, so you were fine with this. She knocked on the door and you greeted her, finding yourself a little nervous now she was coming into your living space.
You had agreed not to get each other anything, but she had arrived at your door with a massive parcel in her hands. Her Slayer-strength made it appear light but as she handed it to you, you sunk to the ground with it making her laugh and roll her eyes as she stepped into your home.
“We agreed no gifts. I don’t have gifts” You said slightly alarmed.
“Yeah, well, ‘Tis the season… for re-gifting. Buffy’s Mom gave me that and I have nowhere to put it” She shrugged. You looked at her suspiciously before opening the box.
It was a toaster. It was actually a good gift until you remembered that Faith didn’t live somewhere that could facilitate a toaster. It was actually thoughtful of her to bring it for you to have. She could have just dumped it.
“This is great, thank you!” You smiled.
“Yeah, well, like I said…” She didn’t see the need for you to thank her. It really had been no effort on her part at all. But your surprise made her light up a little. You were quite accepting and she hadn’t expected you to be.
You looked around, trying to find something for her, “Uh, I have a new sweater you can have but I guess that might not really be your style…” You offered gesturing at the ugly pile of wool in the corner that someone had sent you. You had thought it must have been a joke-gift at first but the note had read as completely serious. It was the thought that counted you supposed.
Faith had brought alcohol. A liquid lunch. You had never offered a Christmas Dinner so this would do. She wasn’t fussed as she handed you the bottle of hard liquor to drink from. You didn’t bother with cups. You would only have had to wash up after.
You passed the bottle between you for a while, sat on the floor of your living room with the tv buzzing in the background. You hadn’t decorated for Christmas, other than putting some fairy lights up. You had been given them by Willow and you thought you might as well make use of them.
“Why don’t you celebrate?” Faith asked, after a large drink from the bottle. She didn’t even wince as she passed it back to you.
“I don’t see anything to celebrate y’know. It’s all about family and I haven’t really spoken to mine since I moved here” You shrugged. It wasn’t their fault, you just didn’t know what to say to anyone back home anymore. Faith nodded along, understanding.
“You?”
“It’s always been a crappy holiday, ever since Santa left me a pack of smokes in an empty pillow case” she shrugged, “Kinda took the shine away”
“I was always scared of Santa” You admitted with a smile as the alcohol loosened your tongue.
“Yeah, always thought some creepy ol’ guy sneakin’ in at night was whack” she said shaking her head and catching your eye. You both smiled at that as you thought about it.
You didn’t realise how well you would get on with her. You thought it was such a shame you hadn’t spoken sooner. You just seemed to click. She reached for her jacket and rummaged in her pocket. She took out a cigarette and a lighter, “You mind?” She asked and you shrugged allowing her to light up her cigarette in your house.
It was late evening now, Faith had wrapped herself in your ugly sweater as there was a chill in the room. You had spent the entire day together by this time. Talking and drinking. It was actually nice. You had never really seen this side of her before. You would almost call it soft. She was the kind of woman you could see yourself falling for.
Oh no.
What had you just thought?
This would complicate things. What if she laughed or worse, broke your heart?
Nonetheless, you felt it. Identified that first note of the love song that would be playing in your hearts whenever you were near each other.
You were sifting through your feelings as you couldn’t help gazing at that beautiful face. You watched the way she turned to you, in the glow of the fairy lights you had decorated your house with. There was a smile on her face, one you had never seen before. One that now belonged only to you. You had made her comfortable. Made her feel like you really cared. She wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to kindness without some ulterior motive. And she couldn’t do anything except smile about it.
This was the best Christmas either of you had in a really long time. You were beside yourselves, both of you minds starting to grow attached. Grow to realise you were each other’s only weakness.
You didn’t realise it, but the biggest gift that year was the revelation that came with getting to know the other. One that would one day lead to a bond so deep you would redefine the word love for evermore.
#Faith Lehane#Faith#Faith x reader#Faith lehane x reader#12 days of christmas#12 Days of Xmas#btvs#btvs x reader#btvs imagine#btvs x you#Buffy The Vampire Slayer#buffy the vampire slayer imagines#Faith lehane imagine#Faith imagine#gender neutral#gender neutral reader#Faith lehane fic#Faith fic#Christmas fic
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Rock Bottom
Joe Liebgott x OC
*Rated T for language and adult themes. (5,471 words)
“Have you guys seen that new girl?” Frank Perconte asked as he squeezed into a small seat along the dining table bench.
“What new girl?” Bill Guarnere asked through a bite of food.
“The new intelligence girl,” Frank said as means of explanation.
“She’s an intelligence officer?” Joe Liebgott asked.
“I heard she was with the OSS before this,” Pat Christensen added.
“I don’t think intelligence officer,” Frank pushed the food around on his plate, “but apparently she speaks like 20 languages.”
“No,” Joe said doubtfully, “no way, that’s so many.”
“Who knows? Once you know one language it’s easier to pick up others,” David Webster said.
Joe shot him an annoyed look.
“I think she’s from the Bronx too, Web.”
“Well hey, there ya go! There’s so many languages going around in the Bronx, she probably picked them up there. It’s so much easier to learn languages when you’re young ya-“
“Where’d you get all this info?” Bill cut David off.
“Luz.” Frank was barely intelligible with his mouth full.
“Hm,” Bill grunted. The information was likely true coming from George Luz, the kid had a way of finding things out.
Their formal introduction to the newest G-2 recruit occurred the next day prior to starting their classroom instruction. The men hadn’t expected the classroom time. They knew the forecast had predicted rain but they didn’t dare to hope Sobel would let them off just because of “a little water”. However, by eleven, the early morning drizzle had grown into a downpour that even Sobel didn’t want to be caught in. He relinquished his company to the instruction of basic compass and map reading.
“Gentleman,” Sobel addressed them dryly, his hands folded behind his back, “before we get started, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of the intelligence general staff.”
The men were gathered in a large tent propped up by recently constructed whitewood. Beside Sobel stood a woman dressed neatly in an army issued pencil skirt, jacket and tie.
“This is Valerie Marchetti, she will be working with the intelligence office as a linguist.”
“Told ya she knew like 20 languages,” Frank whispered to Joe.
“Italian!” Bill nudged Johnny Martin.
“Please make every effort to make her feel welcome,” Sobel finished unenthusiastically, “Alright, let's get started. Radio men, follow Ms. Marchetti.”
“Lucky!” Floyd Talbert clapped George on the shoulder as he stood up. George winked at him with a grin.
“So, what’s she like?” Floyd asked as they headed back to the barracks.
“Aw she’s an angel,” George enthused, “so sweet, and she knows her stuff too!”
“You’d think anyone that pretty was an angel, Luz,” Frank said.
“That,” George said, “is because angels are beautiful.”
But George wasn’t the only one over the moon to have a woman among them. All of the Toccoa men were eager for any chance to ogle Valerie. They were oversexed and grateful to have a beautiful woman in their midst, if only for the hope of earning a smile. Most of the men were limited in their interactions with her seeing as she was part of the intelligence general staff but somehow Bill really got to know her, and by extension, Johnny Martin did too. They became a trio on nights out. Bill jumping from group to group, socializing with all the men while the more mellow Johnny posted up at a table with Valerie.
“Does she actually know 20 languages?” Shifty asked Bill innocently.
“Nah, not actually twenty, but she knows quite a few. She’s damn smart!” Bill said taking a long drink of his beer.
“What languages does she know?” Joe asked.
“Italian, her pa’s Italian. Polish ‘cuz of her ma. Yiddish and I think her German’s okay too,” Bill listed.
Joe nodded thoughtfully, “not bad,” he admitted. “Not gonna be any use to us if we go to Japan though.”
Bill shrugged, “who knows where we’re goin’, they got her here for a reason.”
“Was she posted somewhere else before this?” Moe Alley asked.
“She was a code breaker! Can you believe that? So smart,” Bill shook his head in awe.
“Ya sound like you’re in love there, Bill,” Joe teased.
“God damn right, I love that girl. She’s great!”
Joe chuckled, she was a good looking dame that was for sure. Just his type: curvaceous, dark hair and warm eyes. He admired her just as much as every other guy in the bar. There were plenty of local women around, some of who Joe had gotten to know quite well, but there was something about that army pencil skirt that just did it for Joe.
“She gotta fella?” Joe heard himself asking.
“Why? You interested Joe?” Bill asked.
Joe shrugged, “just curious.”
Bill looked over his shoulder where Valerie sat smiling, her full lips painted a rich red. “I don’t think so, but I’ll tell ya what Joe, she’s not any ol’ dame. She’s a spicy one that’s for sure. She’ll tell you what’s what.”
Yeah, Joe found that out for himself the first time he experienced classroom instruction with Valerie Marchetti.
“Well, actually we’d actually refer to this group as the Allgemeine SS,” Valerie said.
“Deutsche Ausrüstungswerke is German Equipment factories so I don’t-“ Joe defended.
“Well yes, but it’s important to know that this is an armaments division under the SS, Allgemeine SS.”
“Are you sure? You said yourself you aren’t fluent in German, are you sure you’re translating-“
“Yes. I don’t speak fluent German but I know these terms and I know the organization of the SS. You would do well to listen to me, I know what I’m talking about.” Valerie snapped.
“Okay, calm down,” Joe threw his hands up.
Valerie sniffed at his gaslighting before spinning on her heel and walking away. After that it was game over, nothing about her was attractive to Joe any longer; not her silky, dark curls, not her full red lips, not the way the dark lines on her hose travelled seductively up her leg. He decided she was more trouble than she was worth.
A cheer rose up from the dart boards that Friday night where Bill, Johnny, and Bull were playing darts with Valerie. She was wearing trousers that night, which Joe found rather flattering. But he caught himself as his gaze travelled down from her waist, and quickly looked away.
“Okay, if I make this last one, drinks are on me.” Valerie bit her lip in concentration.
“Well now I kinda want you to win,” Bill said jovially.
“Ah!” The men around her cheered again as the dart hit another bullseye.
“Damn, how do you do it?” asked Don Malarkey in awe.
Valeria smiled coyly and shrugged. “Who needs a drink?” she asked to the men gathered.
“Nah, you can’t possibly cover all the drinks here,” Bill held up his hand in protest, a cigarette burning between his fingers.
“Don’t worry about it Bill, I pretty much owe everyone in here a drink anyways after the way they all tripped over themselves to buy me a drink when I first got here.”
The men sung her praises all the way up to the bar where Valerie instructed the tender to pour everyone in proximity a beer and to put it on her tab. She had come up right where Joe had been standing with Moe. Valerie glanced down at his nearly empty glass, “you need a beer Joe?” she asked.
“No thanks, still workin’ on this one.” Joe held up his glass.
“James?” Valerie asked Moe. He nodded appreciatively and accepted the drink even though his original glass held more than Joes.
“You sure Joe?” Valerie asked in a sing song voice. It grated on Joe’s nerves.
“I’m good, thank you though Valerie.” His dark eyes met hers. The piercing darkness of them sent a shiver down her spine and she abruptly looked away, blushing.
Joe was walking back from the latrine later that night when he heard some voices out in the dark, in the direction of HQ. The tone of the two male voices that carried on the air made Joe stand to alert. The speakers weren’t too loud, but there was a forcefulness to them. Then the voice of an agitated female broke through. A coldness rushed into Joe blood. He rushed towards the noise. He came upon two F company men who were walking on either side of Valerie. They were walking fast, the pace clearly set by Valerie who sped forward. The men kept in step with with her all while trying to box her in between their bodies.
“Hey!” Joe snapped, stopping them in their course, “what the hell is going on here?”
Joe looked at Valerie, a chilling look in her eyes: fear.
The men hardly seemed bothered by Joe’s presence. “We’re just making sure this young lady gets back to her quarters safely,” one said.
“Are you?” Joe asked, “do you even know her?”
“Sure we do,” the other said arrogantly, “mind your business pal.”
“Val, you know these guys?” Joe asked. Even with adrenaline coursing through his body he winced internally at his use of her nickname. He wasn’t familiar with her like that, why did he call her Val in that moment?
“Don’t worry about it Joe, I can take care of myself,” she said firmly, “I’m just right here,” she turned towards the main HQ building where she was posted up with the other few females. The men made to follow her into the darkness. Although it was only yards away, there were too many spots of darkness for Joe to feel comfortable letting those men follow her all the way up to her doorstep. Joe stepped in front of them, giving Valerie the time and space to disappear into the fold of the night.
“What’s your problem man?” one of the men snarled.
“It’s late, you’re just gonna have to accept you struck out tonight,” Joe sneered back.
The other man, who was significantly larger than Joe, took a menacing step forward. “She your girl or something?” he asked with narrow eyes.
“She’s no ones girl,” Joe said, and he turned away to head back to his barracks.
“Hey, you should’ve stayed out of it, guy.” Then Joe felt a hand on his collar spin him around before a fist made contact with his eye.
“Do you know what guys from F company?” Edward Tipper asked as he took in the blue and blackness that was beginning to come out around Joe’s eye socket.
Joe shrugged into his breakfast, “whatever, I’m not worried about it.”
“Those bastards,” Moe said, “we oughta give them what they deserve.”
“I said I’m not worried about it,” Joe said, “will you drop it?” His friends reluctantly sat back.
It was then Joe noticed Valerie standing a few feet away, a breakfast tray clutched in her hands. She was staring mournfully at the injuries he incurred. As soon as his eyes met hers she quickly walked to the table where Johnny sat, taking a place beside him and disappearing behind the figures of the Easy Company men she loved. Not Joe, he was not part of that group.
“Joe,” Valerie came up behind him as he was bussing his tray. He turned around to face her. Bags hung under her eyes but her signature red lipstick was applied flawlessly.
“Yeah?” he asked impassively.
“Um, I..” she hesitated, taking in his appearance. His jacket was unbuttoned, revealing his PT shirt. His dog tags hung heavy around his lean neck. His cheek bones were sharp, the top of the left one was split just slightly below where the blueness had spread to fill his entire eye socket. Valerie winced looking at him.
“I just want to say I appreciate you checking in on me last night,” Valerie began.
“Don’t mention,” Joe flicked his hand dismissively and began to walk away.
“But you didn’t need to, I feel bad, you’re eye, I would’ve been fine-“
Joe looked at her like she was crazy, “Valerie I saw how you looked last night, you knew it wasn’t goin’ in a good direction.”
“I was almost back to my quarters, I would’ve been fine,” she insisted.
Joe let out a sharp laugh, “why were you alone anyway? Walking in the dark?”
“It’s none of your business,” Valerie said.
“Wow, this is a hell of a thank you, Val,” Joe winced. Damn it, why did he keep using that nickname?
Valerie wrinkled her own nose in discomfort, “well thank you, but next time I got myself.”
“Valerie I wasn’t going to just leave you there!”
“You don’t need to worry about me! I can take care of myself,” she doubled down.
“God damn it, would you get over yourself?” Joe snapped. Valerie reeled back in momentary shock.
“Get over myself?”
“Those guys were trouble! We both know it!”
“Get over myself? What do you mean? You don’t trust me-“
“I don’t even know you, I would’ve done the same for any girl-“
“So because I’m a girl you don’t trust me to take care of myself?”
“It was two against one.”
“I’m a soldier same as you and you were prepared to take them on-“
“Don’t be ignorant, it’s diff-“
“Ignorant? Who’s calling who ignorant?”
“See, you just think you’re so much better than every-“
“I have to be better than everyone! I have to work twice as hard as everyone here!”
“In your cozy little intelligence office? Yeah, sure, try doing the stuff we have to do.”
“I have to train too! I’m strong!”
“But not strong enough to-“
“I am strong enough!”
“Look what those bastards did to me, you don’t think they would’ve done the same to you?”
“Well, maybe not, because like you said I’m just a girl.”
“Yeah well let me tell you that’s exactly why they could’ve done worse.”
“Do you just assume the worst of your compatriots?”
“Do you not? How dumb are you? I thought you were from the city!”
“You know what, just stay out of it next time Liebgott. I don’t want you getting injured on my behalf.” Valerie stormed away angrily.
“You’re welcome!”Joe shouted after her defiantly. “God damn it,” he cursed under his breath. He kicked a trash bin nearly kicking it over, “fuck this.”
Joe was still heated later that night when he finally retired to the barracks.
“Tough day, Joe?” Bull asked. A cigar hung from his mouth as he unlaced his boots.
“Little bit,” Joe eased down on his bed. His face throbbed where he had been hit. Bull looked up at him thoughtfully, “everything alright now?” he asked cryptically.
“All good, Bull,” Joe lay back on his cot exhaling.
“Not all good,” John Martin was suddenly standing over him, “you were fighting with Valerie?”
“Not really, it’s fine,” Joe draped an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the little light that filled their canvas living quarters.
“It better be, I heard you two shouting at each other earlier. What’d you do to deserve that?”
Joe sat up, “I didn’t do anything!”
John crossed his arms and eyed Joe suspiciously, “well, if she’s after you you probably deserve it.” He stalked off and Joe fell back onto his bed.
“She’s a tough one that Valerie,” Bull said.
“So I’ve heard,” Joe muttered.
“No shit from nobody,” Bull continued.
“You gotta point, Bull?” Joe snapped glaring at the guy in the bunk next to him.
Bull chewed on his cigar, carefully considering what he was going to say next, “it was good of you to look out for her. You did the right thing, Joe.”
Joe hadn’t expected that. He nodded at Bull then rolled over in his bunk. He didn’t know how much Bull knew, or what exactly he had heard through the grapevine, but Bull’s words meant more than he thought the would. Finally a little acknowledgment for preventing the crime he had seen coming. No matter how tough she was, there’s no stopping that when two men decide they’re going to do it.
Joe slid his arm under his pillow, trying to get comfortable. That’s when his hand grazed something hard and rectangular. From underneath his pillow he pulled out a chocolate bar. Wrapped around it, fastened with twine, was a note. In neat cursive were the words: You were right. Thank you for your help.
Joe couldn’t help but smile a little bit. Who the fuck was this woman.
She was a goddamn rule following narc when she wanted to be, that’s who she was. Joe and Moe may or may not have snuck out of the base one Tuesday night and gotten pissed at a nearby bar. They were too drunk to be cautious when they stumbled back onto base, their arms around each other, singing.
Valerie was walking along the well lit path to the women’s latrine when she ran into them.
“What are you guys doing?” she hissed confronting them.
“Hello sweetheart,” Moe slurred with a grin.
“Valerie!” Joe said enthusiastically, “wow thank you for the Hershey bar.”
Valerie flushed bright red, “you guys are being so loud! You’re going to get in trouble.” She looked them up and down, “how drunk are you?”
“Not drunk at all,” Moe shook his head.
Valerie wrinkled her nose, “sure smells like you are.”
“That’s rude Valerie,” Joe said jokingly.
“Yeah well you guys are going to get all of Easy in trouble tomorrow if you show up hungover.”
“We’ll be fine!” Moe waved his hand, “don’t worry about us, doll.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Valerie said sharply, “its the rest of the company you’re screwin’ over. Goodnight!” she walked off shaking her head.
“What a bitch,” Moe said off-handedly.
“She’s not a bitch,” Joe immediately snapped.
Moe swayed in place, grinning stupidly at his friend. “Whoa there, you’re not in love with her now too are you?”
Joe rolled his eyes and the men stumbled back to their barracks, now a little quieter.
He would never admit it after the way Valerie had confronted them, but waking up the next day was rough. Joe was determined to keep it together just to spite Valerie. He had muscled through the morning and was hoping for a moment of respite at lunch. But to his great misfortune, tuna casserole was being served. Joe’s stomach churned as he looked down into his plate. He was hungry but he was sure that the final remains of alcohol digesting inside of him would not be happy to share his stomach with this meal.
As he contemplated whether to eat or not, Joe felt eyes on him. He looked up to see Valerie’s sympathetic face from across the mess hall. She smiled at him tenderly at him and he immediately felt pathetic in her eyes. A irrational sense of anger flared up in him and he stabbed at the casserole with his fork. He brought a first big bite into his mouth all while maintaining eye contact with Valerie. The sympathetic smile dropped from her face as she watched his performance. She narrowed her eyes, her lip curling in disgust at his juvenile defiance.
After the meal ended she came up to him, her tray as empty as his was.
“Feeling alright, Joe?” she asked as sweet as syrup.
Perspiration was beginning to form on his forehead. He was not feeling alright, in fact he felt rather clammy. Moe had done the wise thing and only eaten his buttered bread. Joe was seriously regretting not doing the same.
“Feelin’ great, how’re you feeling, Valerie?” he asked obstinately.
“I’m feeling great too,” she said smugly, because she was, and he clearly was not even if he wasn’t admitting it. “Enjoy the rest of the day!” She sashayed off.
Luckily, the mess hall was mostly empty because as soon as she was out of sight, Joe dived for a nearby trashcan and regurgitated the lunch he had just consumed.
“Better out than in,” Moe said as means of comfort, looking equally washed up.
By the end of the week Joe was ready to go out again. Just as it happens to all young men, the short term memory of how he felt after a night of binge drinking had left him by that Saturday night. Having secured and successfully retained their weekend passes, Joe and his friends bought tickets to the dance that Saturday evening.
The majority of Easy Company had the same idea and they, along with the other companies of the 101st airborne, filled the local dance hall. Joe was having a pretty good time. Beer was flowing, the band was hopping, and there was an endless supply of beautiful women to dance with. Joe was taking a break from the dance floor when he spotted Valerie spinning across the room in the arms of a dark haired gentleman from another company.
“Look at her,” Edward said appreciatively from next to Joe.
“Who?” Joe asked, pretending not to know who his friend was referring to.
“I know you don’t like her much, but Valerie, she is a looker,” Edward whistled.
Joe scowled but allowed himself a moment to check Valerie out. She wore a slightly-outdated red belted dress. Little white flowers peppered the fabric from the hem to the shoulders where the cinched neckline generously revealed her delicate collarbones.
Joe cleared his throat, “yeah, but there’s lots of good lookin’ broads around tonight.”
Edward just shrugged and downed the rest of his beer before setting out for the dance floor again. Joe did his best to avoid Valerie. He distracted himself with drinks, jokes, and other beautiful women. Despite his best efforts Joe still found himself looking across the low lit dance floor directly into Valerie’s eyes when a version of Mood Indigo came on.
It wasn’t Valerie in his arms, it was another woman. A woman he hadn’t known long enough to truly enjoy the moody slow dance with. Valerie was in the arms of the same guy she’d been with all night and she did look like she was enjoying the dance. Joe realized she was enjoying it a lot more than he wanted her to be.
The glance they had shared had been brief, she had broken it off quickly to nestle her cheek against her fellas shoulder. But that short moment had stirred something in Joe. In the dark golden light of the numerous high-hanging light bulbs Valerie’s eyes had looked like melted amber. The shadows that flickered across the hall softened her face, giving it an ethereal look. She was breathtaking and Joe wanted to be the one with his arm around her waist. He wanted to be the one she leaned her cheek against. He felt an overwhelming unreasonable hatred for this random man he didn’t know simply because he was the one who held Valerie so close.
Once the song ended, Joe politely bid goodbye to his partner and made a beeline for Valerie. She stood talking to her partner and a few other guys Joe didn’t recognize. He approached their group stiffly, his hands in his pockets. Everyone looked surprised at his arrival, especially Valerie, who was obligated to introduce him considering she was the only one who really knew him.
After a quick nod to the group Joe said, “Valerie can I talk to you?” Valerie’s brow furrowed in confusion but she politely excused herself. Joe lead her to an unoccupied side of the room near the door.
“Is something wrong?” Valerie asked, a fresh glass of champagne clutched in her perfectly manicured hands. Joe had no clue as to what he had wanted to say to her or what exactly he wanted from her. His goal had simply been to remove her from that man’s presence. In all honesty, he had no plan because he was confused on how exactly he considered her; was she a friend? An enemy? Or just another beautiful woman?
“Well, I just wanted to give you the option to dance with me,” he hesitated, watching her face for a reaction, “or one of the other Easy guys,” he added.
“Um, I’m alright, thank you, I’ve been happy dancing with-“ she gestured back at her partner.
“That guy? Psh,” Joe said dismissively, “guys a cement mixer, don’t you wanna dance with someone good?”
Red rose up in Valerie’s cheeks, “who? Like you?” she asked.
Joe shrugged, “anyone’s better than that fool.”
“You don’t even know him, Joe.”
Fair point, Joe thought, but he didn’t like the guy. “I can tell he’s a dip, just look at him!” Joe laughed.
“This is a really terrible way of asking me to dance with you!”
“Hey, I’m doin’ you a favor.”
“Me a favor? Could you be more full of yourself?”
“Me full of myself? What about you little miss perfect. I’m not the one walking around acting like you know everything.”
“I know more than you!” “See there you go, why do you gotta go around putting people down?”
“No one seems to have a problem with me except you!” Valerie shot back.
“Take it outside lovebirds,” an intoxicated private said as he passed them.
His interruption killed the argument between them. Instead they just stood glaring at each other, dark brown eyes meeting golden ones.
Finally, Joe said, “come on, let’s dance.”
“You wish!” Valerie stomped on his foot.
Joe swallowed his curse, “fuck,” he said in a strangled a voice. Valerie turned to stalk away but Joe grabbed her elbow.
“Get off of me,” she hissed, trying her best not to make more of a scene than they already had.
“Come on.” Joe pulled her out the nearest door, throwing them both into the cool Georgian night. Now engulfed by darkness they were really free to fight it out.
“What the fuck was that for?” he demanded.
“Who do you think you are?” she shot back. “Interrupting my evening for what? Just to invite me on a pity dance? I don’t need your pity, I was enjoying myself quite a bit tonight until you started all this!” She threw her hands up in frustration. Some of the champagne from the glass still in her hand spilled over the side, onto her hand. “Ugh,” she exclaimed. She wiped her hand angrily on her dress.
Jealousy stabbed through Joe’s chest at her words. She had been enjoying herself with that guy. “What’s so special about that guy anyways? Didn’t you just meet him tonight?” he sneered.
Valerie opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. She closed it, examining him. A devilish smirk crossed her face, “oh is this what it’s about Joe? You jealous?”
Yes. “No!” he said, “I just don’t know why you’re all moony over this guy. This is a social, not something you bring a date to.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t believe me about what? This isn’t a place for dates? Not usually-”
“That you’re not jealous! What’s your problem Joe? If you’re interested in me just be a man and tell me.”
“Typical, you thinking that everyone has got to be in love with you.”
“Then tell me why you’re being so rude tonight! Either you’re jealous or you hate me.” Was there a third option? Because Joe felt like he was somewhere in between. He definitely didn’t like Valerie. She got under his skin like no one else. At the same time, there was a magnetism about her that kept drawing him in. Those eyes, those lips, even that temper. He wanted to grab her and kiss her just to shut her up.
“And if you hated me you wouldn’t be bothering with all this!”
Joe was barely even listening to her at this point.
He could feel his blood pumping; the adrenaline and anger mixing together to create a roar in ears that made it impossible to comprehend everything she was saying. He knew he was going to do it even as he counseled himself against it. He surprised himself with his sudden movement; he snatched her waist and pulled her into a hard kiss.
Immediately, she pushed him away. “What the hell!” she threw the remainder of her champagne in his face. Cooly, Joe wiped the liquid off his face with the sleeve.
“You told me to tell you!”
“Not like that!”
He stood glaring at her. She glared back, her now empty glass hanging pointlessly from her hand. There was nothing but silence between them, and the chirp of insects in the night sky. The faint sounds from the festivities inside filtered out but Joe and Valerie were completely in their own world, in a standoff.
Then suddenly, mutually, something shifted between them. Flaring rage turned to lust. Simultaneously they lunged for each other. Joe wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hungrily snaking up her thigh. Valerie’s fingers twisted in his hair, tugging at the thick, dark tendrils. He bit down on her lip as she pulled on his hair. Their kisses were messy and hungry; all the pent up anger and tension that had built up between them expressed in an intimate power struggle as they moved to devour each other.
“You drive me crazy,” Joe pulled away for breath.
Her lipstick was completely gone, its last traces staining her swollen mouth red. “I can’t stand you,” she retorted. He kissed her again, tangling her hand in her hair. Their pace slowed from the previous feverish speed to something more sensual without losing its fervor. Joe had her pressed against the building wall. His hands cupped her her jaw and slid down her throat. His mind was muddled with his detestation for this woman and the aching physical desire that was taking over him. She must have felt similarly as one hand pushed against his pelvis, as if warding him off, while the other dug fingernails into the nape of neck, forcing him in closer.
Once again they surfaced for air, this time taking time to really look at each other. The sound of their panting filled the space around them as her eyes searched his for some explanation.
“What’re we doing, Joe?” her voice was oddly vulnerable. Joe traced her jaw with a calloused thumb.
“I don’t know.” He pushed away from her and ran a hand through his tousled hair. Cold air entered the space where their bodies were previously connected. It sent a shiver through Valerie. “I don’t know,” Joe repeated.
He stepped back even further into the dark, his hand on his hips. He kicked a rock on the ground.
“You don’t like me,” Valerie said with the slight intonation of a question. Joe sucked his teeth. “And,” she continued slowly, “I don’t know if I like you.”
“I don’t know how I feel about you,” Joe said.
Valerie crossed her arms, her eyes bore into him. She was waiting for him to say something else, to offer a but. But it never came.
After a few unbearable minutes of silence she finally said, “I’m going back inside, Joe.” The patch of darkness he stood in was filled with a momentary field of light as she opened the door. Then, she was gone and Joe was alone in the darkness.
Joe did his best to avoid Valerie after that, but he felt her golden eyes on him in the mess hall. He wanted to provide her with answers, to tell her how he was feeling, but he didn’t know. He told himself there was a nothing to like about her - she was a pretentious kiss ass who seemed to have every guy wrapped around her finger. But he saw through her - he wasn’t going to fall for her like everyone else had.
Yet, she consumed his thoughts. All the pieces of love and hate swirled in his mind as he desperately tried to conceive a clear way to explain how he was feeling. He didn’t like her, but he might be falling in love with her. But even if he had realized this sooner, it still came too late.
In a matter of weeks she was stepping out with the dark haired guy she had hit it off with that night. He was a boring, strait laced guy, or at least that’s what Joe had gathered from Bill. The guys dullness was obvious. From what Joe witnessed, there was no fire between them. Not that it was his place to care, he reminded himself. Every time Joe saw them together he avoided her gaze. He knew he would see that look that was begging him to step in, to step up and interrupt this course she was on. But, as long as she was with this guy Joe had an excuse not to love her.
#hbo war#band of brothers#joe liebgott#joe liebgott x oc#fanfiction#BoB#hbo band of brothers#angst#heartbreak
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—it’s december (and i still want you) | m.
⇢ pairing: kim namjoon/reader
⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff (the holy trinity)
⇢ word count: 16.7k
⇢ warnings: explicit sexual content, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe kids!), dirty talk, just good, ol’ emotional sex
⇢ summary: as the final farewell to your soon-to-be-ex husband namjoon, you spend with him one last christmas in your parents’ cottage far away from the city, reflecting on your life together before you will part your ways for good.
a/n: omg guys!! i’m so excited to post this, you have no idea:( i’ve been working on writing this for a whole month but i had this particular fic in mind since last year so i can’t believe i actually managed to finish this before christmas like i had planned. i hope you will like this. i’m sending you lots of love for the new year! xx, julia.
For how long you could remember, you’ve always adored Christmas.
There’s something discreetly magical in this time of the year, no matter if it’s an unique aura or the fact you’re the family type of person, Christmas used to hold a special place in your heart, spread a distinctive kind of warmth in your body that made you feel calm and loved.
This year though, it's different. Not because the weather doesn’t suit the occasion and instead of snowing, the sky is cloudy. The very reason is on your kitchen table, next to the big cardboard box you’ve scribbled ‘xmas decorations' on in black ink. There lay neatly folded in manila folder documents, untouched for about a week since postman delivered them. Your future is inside, just above your signature. You know those papers are not going to be read through anytime soon, that the blank space next to your name will be crystal white until the very New Year.
You know he won’t say a word about it unless it’s necessary. He won’t plead, beg, ask for delay. He’s accepted it. Deep down you wish he put up some fight, resisted, fell to his knees in front of you and counted all his mistakes promising it won’t happen again. But it’s your decision. And he has never denied your choice.
You’ve always loved Christmas. Family gatherings by the table, the smell of cinnamon in your mum's famous rolls, the colourful lights on the Christmas tree your dad never stops complaining about when he’s assigned to put them on.
This year however, Christmas is nothing but an unceremonious reminder that it’s going to be your last celebration spend with your soon-to-be-ex husband, Namjoon.
Statistically, the younger you get married, there’s a higher possibility of having a divorce with your significant other. The shorter the period between engagement and wedding is, you’re most likely going to survive approximately three years as a married person. You feel like you’ve never fitted into any statistics and algorithms better than now.
You were twenty one when you first met Kim Namjoon. The only thing you knew about him before seeing in person was the size of his family's wealth. Your mother told you he’s a good man, same age as you, majoring in business and economy tall, blonde fella. You, on the other hand, were just a girl in red pristine dress and uncomfortable high heels, with dreams to trivial for her parents liking.
The place you first met him was beautiful. A big ballroom in downtown with gleaming chandeliers, filled to the brim with people you wholeheartedly despised sipping on their Dom Perignons, a clique whose money combined together could easily build a few hospitals in Africa. You remember your mum patting you on the back, hissing to your ear to straighten, but you knew it was more an encouraging act of hers than a real reprimand. You remember your dad, laughing at something with mister Kim and from the volume and tone of his voice you knew it wasn’t genuine.
You also remember Namjoon, good-looking and smart and so sophisticated in his manners and words he could put into shame any college jocks or obnoxious fratboys you’d met so far during your studies. Namjoon with his exquisite demeanor and handsome face that drew attention from every young lady in the ballroom. You felt small standing next to him and it wasn’t just because he towered over you with his height. For the first time in your life you were in front of someone who was absolutely out of your league.
When your parents decided to leave you two alone for a while, Namjoon let out a long sigh, like some weight was lifted off his shoulders and he finally could breathe properly. He smiled at you, two cute dimples adoring his cheeks and said, ‘’Fuck, I thought they would never leave.” gulping the rest of his champagne smoothly.
You remember how your eyes widened after hearing him speak informally like that, to the point it probably must have looked comical because he chuckled as soon as he saw your puzzled expression.
“Want to get away from here for a while? I know some place upstairs where we can talk without being watched by all those tight wads.” Namjoon asked you then.
This time, no matter how shocked you were, you manage to keep your true emotions at bay. You smiled at him, nodding. “Lead the way.”
Namjoon seemed to know this place by heart, easily navigating through long corridors until he found what he was looking for: a large balcony with a view to the whole city. He motioned for you to come closer where he stood, leaning to the rail and fishing out of his jacket's pocket a pack of cigarettes. With one between his plush lips, he extended the rest towards you.
“I don’t smoke.” you said curtly, probably too abrupt but he didn’t notice, or simply didn’t care.
“Well, I do,” he murmured, lighting up his cigarette and taking the first drag languidly. “Dad's a heavy smoker. He’s been telling me my whole teenage years not to be like him but here I am,” He smirked almost cynically, fuming the poison. “Like father, like son.”
You didn’t exactly know how to react to that, choosing to stare at the city covered in darkness from a distance instead. The summer was in full bloom, night almost stuffy it made you feel hot. Your feet hurt from the uncomfortable shoes you wore and you wondered for a moment how would Namjoon react if you decided to take them off.
It was still annoyingly mute, you started thinking that maybe he was waiting for you to continue conversation somehow. Why did he even want to bother spending time with you here? Why did he want you to keep him company when you couldn’t hold a proper conversation? God, you were awful at smalltalks.
Luckily for you, Namjoon always knew what to say.
“So, Y/N,” he began, your head turning to the side to have a look at him. He was beautiful like this, you had to admit to yourself, dressed in black suit with a cigarette caught between his slender fingers and suddenly a vision of marrying him wasn’t that surreal anymore like you thought at the beginning. “I know what your family business is, I know you’re the same age as me and you don’t smoke,” he listed, gesturing with his occupied hand for emphasis, “but I still don’t know what you’re studying.”
Apparently you weren’t only bad at communicating. You were also terrible at holding eye contact but Namjoon from the very start of your acquaintance didn’t want to let you go that easily, keeping his gaze fixated on you the whole time. It made your cheeks blush and you prayed he didn’t see that in dim lighting.
“I am majoring in fashion design and marketing. I want to start my own brand in the future.” you replied. Namjoon hummed, flicking his cigarette with his thumb and ring finger. “My parents don’t really like this idea. They probably wish I worked as an accountant in their firm or something,” You laughed and to your surprise, there was a smile dancing on Namjoon's lips as well, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I am destined to work for my father from the moment my mother found out she was pregnant with a boy,” he said, voice laced with strange kind of melancholy you hadn’t heard from him since you two met. “I will take over his business after his death and work there until I die.”
“What about your other siblings then?” you asked.”
“I’m the only child.”
“Oh.”
Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah. ‘Oh' it’s a good word to describe it.” He took one last drag off his cigarette and discarded it carelessly somewhere on the floor. For a moment you thought he was reaching to his pocket for another one, but he faltered.
It was quiet for a few long bits of time, until Namjoon broke the silence again.
“It looks like they want us to get married, Y/N,” he said suddenly and you nearly jumped in place hearing his deep ramble. “What do you think about that?” You turned to look at him, only to find his eyes already trained on you, expression smug.
You shrugged. “I don’t have much say in this.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows furrowed like he was genuinely surprised with your answer. “Why is that? Aren’t you the daughter who disobeys her parents by pursuing the career they don’t want for her?” he asked almost mockingly, taking a step towards you. “You can say no. You can dump me and find some guy who would be much better husband than me, or maybe you have someone like that already, don’t you?”
“I don’t.” You didn’t even know why you needed to clarify this so fast, you could have played along and fool him, yet here you were.
“You don’t have a boyfriend?” he concluded.
You shook your head. “No.”
“Well, I don’t have a girlfriend either.”
You sighed. Was this out of relief or because he was now much closer than you considered appropriate for your personal space? Still staring at you with observant eyes, gaze vibrating, plush lips opening to say, “It’s kind of weird for me that you don’t date anyone.”
You scoffed. “I could say the same about you.”
“Not exactly, darling,” he disagreed, leaning his body to the railing so he's back was facing the city, head turned to the side to have a look at you. Your cheeks heated at the term of endearment he used, yet you rolled your eyes anyway. “I don’t do relationships. I was never in one, in fact. But you,” he trailed off, licking his lips, “you look like someone who has dozen of guys lined up to be your boyfriend.”
You were laughing. An authentic, breathy laugh that made Namjoon smile like fool and he didn’t have anything in his diffence because you were just really pretty in your red dress, standing on the balcony and giggling. He wanted to tell you this the whole night, no matter how lame he probably sounded.
“God, that was so cheesy,” you groaned. “Thank you for your subtle compliment. You aren’t so bad yourself.”
Maybe Namjoon was actually content too in this moment, that you didn’t have anyone to come home to as well. Back then he thought it was good because it didn’t complicate things more than that already were. Truth to be told, it was just a disguised excuse.
He didn’t expect you to ask next question, yet your lips somehow formed words on their own. “If you don’t do relationships, why are you okay with marrying me?”
He was so close you could count his eyelashes, you could see that little mole on his chin. You could reach and touch the sharpness of his jaw, smooth the crease between his brows that had formed after hearing what you had said.
“I just have a feeling it might work.” he answered simply. “Will you try making this work with me?”
You smiled. The thought about being wedded to someone like him at the ripe age of twenty one wasn’t that scary anymore. There was a long way before you two but you were in for a ride. Because it could have been anyone, and it was just Namjoon. Just him and above all him.
“Only if you promise me you will quit smoking.” you said.
Namjoon reached to his suit jacket's pocket, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and dropped it to the floor. “Your wish is my command.”
He didn’t laugh it out, didn’t make some snarky comment about you already wife-ing him up.
Because Kim Namjoon has never disrespected your decision.
Few months later, you got engaged. Officially, on family gathering with your closest relatives, as a symbolic agreement made between two wealths. But in reality, you and Namjoon were never the so called ‘traditional’ type of couple. He proposed to you a week earlier, after taking you out on a bike ride by the river. There was no caviar, fine wine and crème brûlée when you both sat together on a bench, inhaling autumn air. There was no hushed whispers and clears of throats from the family, no glass clicking to get attention because he had something important to say. No practiced speech with Shakespeare’s quotes (love is a smoke made with a fume of sighs, actually a very accurate one).
It was you, no make up and grey sweatpants and him, favourite khaki jacket and stuttered words when he took out of his pocket a pink, plastic ring, like those ones they add to candies. Just you and Namjoon, the whole world, reasons, what ifs and doubts disappeared.
He wanted to tell you how much he had fallen for you these past months. That he didn’t believe in love from the first sight and God, yet Lord only knows how he had been a goner from the moment he laid his eyes on you in that stupid ballroom full of materialists. He wished to say he would do anything in his power to make it right, to have you call him your husband proudly while standing hand in hand in front of his future business partners, friends and family.
He did none of that. You didn’t let him to.
Your lips were on his and the words will you marry– died on his tongue when yours touched his bottom lip. You were kissing him, deep and intoxicating and he wanted this brief moment of sweet halcyon to never end. Because he was young, foolish and so in love that he could for once be egoistic enough to say the world was at his feet while you were in his arms smiling into the kiss and mumbling those stupid three-letters-long word.
And you said it again and again. Repeated it when you were home, pinned by his body to the wall of his old apartment while his cold fingers danced on your sides underneath a sweater. You chanted it when he stripped you bare and fuck you silly, no making it even to the bedroom because you were young, impatient and in love.
The wedding was in Spring. You got married when cherries started to blossom in whites and pinks. On the wall in front of you there’s still hanging your favourite photo from that day. Your sister took it with her phone, not some photographer Namjoon's mum had hired to photoshop your faces afterwards. It’s black and white, a little blurry and you’re laughing at something Namjoon had told you seconds before Soojin tapped the button on her phone.
You wonder what will happen with this picture and many others after everything will be done.
Sighing, you open the cardboard box with Christmas decorations. You still have a tree to carry upstairs from your basement but you don’t think about it now. Normally, Namjoon would do it. But you know he will be back by the time you will be already at your sister’s home, eating dinner.
You hear door lock rattling and instantly annoyance flashes through your whole body. If that’s your mother, asking you to come home today and nag you to change your mind again, you swear you’re going to snap real hard this time.
But it’s not your mother. She doesn’t have keys to your apartment. She doesn’t own a briefcase and that’s certainly a noise of it being thrown on the floor next to the shoe case. And she for sure doesn’t sound like your own husband, greeting you during lunch hours on Christmas Day.
‘’God, I was held up in a traffic for an hour. If that’s how’s it going to be for the next days, then I’m not leaving the house,” Namjoon says, walking past you. He pours warm coffee you had made earlier into his favourite Captain America cup right away, and sighs deeply.
You haven’t seen him in the morning. He had already left to work when you opened your eyes, which is not anything new recently. It feels like he’s avoiding you purposely after receiving divorce papers. Almost as if he’s been growing distant to give you even more reasons to end things with him for good.
His eyes trail from the kitchen counter to you, still holding a golden Christmas tree chain in your hands. He hums, gulping another sip of his coffee. ‘’Oh, you brought decorations. Remind me to go for the tree to the basement later.”
You’re irritated. You don’t even know why. Probably because he’s so normal and casual about this. He’s still doing all this domestic shit, keeps up appearances and acts like everything’s totally fine. Except one thing: the lack of intimacy. He stopped calling you baby, giving you good morning kisses and goodbye hugs. He doesn’t touch you anymore, barely talks about anything that isn’t some topic he’d heard in news. He’s become now the stereotypical version of husband every woman wouldn’t want to have. It’s frustrating.
“Why are you home so soon?” you blurt out before you could stop yourself.
Namjoon places his cup in the dishwasher (he never does that and you have to remind him to do it every time) and crosses his arms over chest. “It’s Christmas and I’m the boss. I wanted to leave early, so I did.”
You hate how cynical he sounds. He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he’s not been coming home like that every day just because he can, because he’s entitled to work young economist and businessman who gives himself days off to please his wife.
“I’m not staying here for dinner.” You don’t like how formal your voice sounds. It’s the voice you use while talking with clients on the phone. Two can play this game.
Something shifts in Namjoon's expression. He clears his throat awkwardly and still, the first words come out hoarsely. “You’re not staying home for Christmas?”
Home. This shared apartment bought with Namjoon's money is still yours too. Until it won’t be anymore.
“No. I’m going to Soojin's. She’s making a dinner for her boyfriend and his parents and she invited me as well.”
You don’t know why you feel like you need to explain yourself in front of him. Namjoon nods his head sheepishly. You haven’t seen him look like that for a while. If anything, he looks disappointed. Something aches in your heart at the sight.
“Is something wrong?” you ask, irritation long gone and replaced with something you could mistake only with genuine concern.
Namjoon cracks a smile. “No, it’s just… I thought we could eat here, alone. You know, since it’s our last Christmas together,” He's speaking more quietly now. Almost like he’s afraid of even approaching this topic aloud, choosing the words carefully yet they sound uncertain anyway. “Mom is on Maldives right now with her new guy.” he adds after a while.
“Oh.”
Namjoon scratches the back of his head. “I guess I will spend some time alone, then.” He chuckles but you know it’s not an honest laugh. Namjoon loves Christmas just the way you do, though he will never admit it to anyone and the thought about him being in your own apartment probably even without Christmas tree because he’s too clumsy to decorate it himself, makes your insides clench uncomfortably.
You look at him now carefully for the first time in weeks. He doesn’t look like the confident, snarky businessman he aspires to be sometimes. His hair has grown longer, his skin looks paler, there are bangs underneath his eyes and you wonder if he gets any sleep. He used to cuddle you up during night hours when insomnia kicks in, because he says your body's warmth helps him relax. He doesn’t do it anymore from the day he had read the papers. He lays next you peacefully every night and even if he itches to touch you, hold you, caress you, he won’t.
Namjoon looks lost and perhaps he is, he’s been like that since his father died for lungs cancer over one year ago, leaving his business in Namjoon's hands hence he's the only heir to the empire. It was all too sudden and before you could do anything in your power to help mister Kim recover, the disease had progressed to the point of no return, taking his life away few months after he came to the hospital.
Namjoon hadn’t smoked a cigarette since the day you asked him to quit. He broke that rule once, on his father's funeral day. You found him on the porch in front of his family’s estate, so sad and broken and with a grey smoke swirling around his features. He was crying. You had never seen him like this before. He used to say tears were the luxury he couldn’t afford.
“I’m sorry.” he said to you, voice rough and strangled because there was another wave of sobs forming in his throat.
“It’s okay. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you assured, coming up to him. He gave you the half-burnt cigarette without a word and you throw it away. “It’s going to be okay, Joon.” He crashed his body into yours, straining your black dress with sadness and grief he was always so afraid to show while you were around. You held him like that, rocked him like a baby until eventually his breathing slowed down to normal.
He put his chin on your shoulder, still hugging you tightly, like he was afraid you were going to evaporate and asked, “Do you think I will be able to do it?”
You knew he wasn’t ready for that. Every twenty-something guy wouldn’t be. But you believed in him like he never did in himself. You had all your hopes in him, signed your future with his name, the name of the boy who let go of his beloved addiction just because you said so. Namjoon might have been entitled to marry you but you weren’t obligated to fall for him, yet you did.
Namjoon has always been the strong, monumental fortification that kept you safe in. And together you’ve made home.
Placing your hands on his chest, you pushed him away slightly so you could look him in the eyes. “You won’t be alone,” you urged firmly. “I am here. You’ve got your father's coworkers who put their faith in you.”
“What if I fail them? What if they don’t see me as someone responsible enough to be in charge because I’m some young shithead who had inherited this business from his father?”
“Then you have to prove them you’re worth it.”
“Easier said than done.”
You shook your head, your palms coming up to cup his cheeks. “Kim Namjoon,” you began, “I’ve never given a fuck about economy but when you rant about it over dinner I find it interesting, because you can make it seem like that,” He smiled lightly and your mirrored his gesture. “And I know your views about business. It’s not some liberal shit that’s actually well disguised capitalism. You are more than that, Joon. Don’t you dare ever put yourself down.”
And then he was kissing you. It was more a simple smooch than anything else but it felt right to do so. To stand on your toes and capture his lips in yours. When he broke off after a moment, he placed a fleeting peck on your nose. It made you smile silly and he was smiling too, despise the situation.
“I love you.” Namjoon breathed out, leaning his forehead into yours.
In that particular moment, on a porch of his family's old manor, you were certain you were going to survive every storm when he was by your side.
“I love you too.”
It’s been two years since that day. A lot has changed, hell, both of you have changed. But looking at Namjoon right now you start questioning yourself again, whether this storm is worth letting the ship sink without trying to at least reach the land.
One last Christmas together, he said. Nothing more and nothing less beside two married people biding farewells before they part their ways for good. You owe him that much.
“You don’t have to stay here alone. We can go to that cottage my parents have. You know, the one where we spend my dad's birthday in January.”
If Namjoon is surprised with your sudden statement, he hides it pretty well. His eyebrows raise with interest. “Is that okay for you? I mean, you’re already invited to your sister's and she’s probably waiting for you, she made a whole dinner and–”
“Joon,” you cut his rambling off. Joon. You haven’t called him that in a while. He smiles bashfully and you can faintly see pink tingling the apples of his cheeks. “It’s fine, really. Soojin wouldn’t mind, I’m sure of it. But, uhm–” You clear you throat awkwardly. “–we have to buy some groceries if we want to actually eat something for the dinner.”
Namjoon's brows furrow. “Do we have time to cook something for ourselves?” he asks.
You open your mouth to object but all arguments die on your tongue. He’s right. You don’t have time to do it on your own. Well, fuck, you want to say but then, an idea pops in your head.
“I’ll take care of this.”
You’ve always loved Christmas. Never had you thought about spending them with your soon-to-be-ex husband, though.
Namjoon has always been a convincing person.
You think this side of him comes from the field he works in. When you’re standing in the middle of Christmas market down your street, he analyzes the problem of buying a real Christmas tree like it’s another deal he has to sell to his future business partners, listing you all the pros and cons and transforming them into an excel chart in his head.
He doesn’t even know why you’re here. One minute you were driving to your sister's house after dropping by grocery store, and the second you told him to pull over and wander with you through the numerous stalls with Christmas decorations.
“Why are you so determined to buy a real Christmas tree?” Namjoon asks astonishingly.
You sigh, sending the seller in front of you an apologetic smile. You’ve been standing there with Namjoon for a few solid minutes now and you can sense the man's impatience. You shrug simply in reponse. “Because I’ve always wanted to have one.”
“Yeah, but,” Namjoon pauses when you click your tongue in irritation. Now it’s his turn to sigh. “We are going to be in that cottage just for one night. We can take our Christmas tree from home with us and decorate it there.”
Upon hearing that, you take his wrist and walk a few steps from the seller. That’s it, Namjoon thinks, you’re going to pull another card now. You’ve always been persistent when things you want are in the game and Namjoon is terrible at saying no to you. The evidence stands in your living room, an old Chinese vase that doesn’t suit the design of the room at all but you insisted on buying it. No matter how much he tries, Namjoon can’t help but fall for your pleading eyes every single time, like he did when you pursued him to spontaneously purchase plane tickets for the romantic weekend in Paris across the globe, when you asked him to quit smoking. Or when you stabbed his heart with paper dagger filled with words he will eventually sign because that’s what you want from him.
So he won’t protest either when you’re about to buy a real Christmas tree although there’s absolutely no need to do so.
Namjoon knows he’s been gone since the moment you attempted to puppy-eye him. Nevertheless, for the sake of hearing you trying to convince him with sweet words and maybe some PG-13 arm brushing, he tongues his cheek in faux annoyance.
“Come on, Namjoon,” You elbow him playfully instead. “Don’t be like that. We’ve never had a real Christmas tree before.”
And after that holidays, we will never have an occasion to buy another one together again, he wants to tell you. It’s ridiculous how both of you still sound so normal and domestic when your marriage is yet to be terminated few days after New Year. Maybe it’s just an act you put up for audience.
“Please?” you try once again and yes, there it is. Your hand brushes lightly his biceps.
Namjoon exhales loudly. Then, he points his index finger at the seller. “Give me the biggest one you have here.”
And fifteen minutes later, you’re driving to Soojin's house with a 5’6 Christmas tree on the roof of Namjoon’s crystal black SUV.
It’s awfully quiet between you two, mostly because you’ve been wondering for the past ten minutes how to break the awkward silence and ease the tension. Looking through the window, you try to locate any familiar spot on the streets that could tell you how far from your sister’s house you are. When you pass the Japanese restaurant with big koi fish in the logo, you estimate you’re up to five minutes from Soojin's.
“Does she know you’re not coming for Christmas dinner?”
You’re so deep in thought you almost don’t register Namjoon's talking to you. “Huh?” you mumble dumbly.
“I asked if you already texted Soojin you won’t be on her Christmas dinner.”
In the corner of your eye you see the sports equipment shop. Three minutes to go. “No, I didn’t. I will explain her everything in person.”
Namjoon nods, stopping the car at the red light. You curse in your head. One more minute longer. “Do you think she really won’t mind? Knowing your sister she’s probably going to be pissed off you’re making a fuss in her well-planned schedule.” he says, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Maybe he’s impatient too.
Instantly, you chuckle at his words. Namjoon’s right. Your sister is a control freak. She doesn’t like last minute changes and sudden cancellations. You’re more than aware of that. But this time, you know she won’t have anything against your sudden outburst.
“Have a little faith in her, would you? It’s Christmas.” you reply teasingly.
The light changes to orange, then to green.
“I really want to but I can’t help but think how she almost beat the shit out of me when we both overslept that one infamous morning and you were one hour late to your branch.”
“It was a day after we got from the honeymoon. She hadn’t seen me for almost a month back then.” you point out, although not to justify her.
Namjoon snorts. “She came to our apartment that morning and gave me a lecture when you were showering,”
“Yeah but–”
“She told me, I’m quoting: ‘You had a whole month to yourselves and you decided the morning I was supposed to have a branch with my sister is the best time to bang’.”
You’re fully laughing now, cheeks red from embarrassment because apparently, Soojin was partially true back then. You did wake up that morning around eight to get ready for the meeting, but you were too distracted by the feeling of Namjoon's morning wood poking you from behind. And when you unintentionally moved your body so your ass rubbed against his stiff shaft, the groan you heard in response and a muscular arm sneaking around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest prohibited you any kind of protest.
Your face goes hot at the memory. And by the slight blush adoring Namjoon's cheeks, you know he’s thinking about the same thing as you.
He clears his throat. “So yeah. Your little sister scares me.”
The car pulls in the familiar neighborhood of akin terraced houses, the one in which Soojin lives with her boyfriend standing at the end of the street.
“Even though she’s younger than me, she’s always had in herself to protect me at all costs. She really likes you though, Namjoon. She did from the very beginning. It was just her weird way of keeping things in control.” you say and that effectively puts and end to the conversation.
Namjoon's SUV stops in front of the gate and you see him smiling in the corner of your eye. “I know,” he breathes out. “Don’t be there for too long. We still have a Christmas tree to decorate later.”
You don’t know why you’re beaming like a teenage girl when you slam the door behind yourself and walk to your sister’s house.
Soojin, as Namjoon has predicted, is displeased. But apart from everything else, she’s mostly confused, standing in front of you in yellow apron with hands on her hips and raised eyebrows.
“What the hell are you doing here already, Y/N?”
You sigh loudly, taking off your coat and stepping off your boots. You feel your younger sister’s eyes piercing through your scull yet you don’t falter. Straightening your back, you greet her, “Hello to you too, Soojin-ah.” You hear her scoff in response.
“Hi, Y/N! What’s up?” Taehyung, Soojin's dear boyfriend shouts from the living room. He���s sitting on their couch, fumbling with Christmas tree lights and probably trying to find the faulty one among ninety-nine others working.
“Hi, Tae. Everything’s peachy.” you answer him and the man sends you his signature boxy grin in response.
Soojin crosses her arms over chest. “Peachy? Then why are you here so early? I told you we start at seven.”
“Yeah, about the dinner. We need to talk.”
She narrows her eyes but cocks her head at you to follow after her to the kitchen anyway. There’s quite a mess going on here and from the smell of the pastry lying on the counter you assume she’s making your mum's cinnamon rolls.
“So,” she begins, taking off her apron. “Talk.”
“Are those cinnamon rolls from mum's recipe?” you quip, trying to avoid her persistent stare.
“Y/N, we are not here to talk about food,” Soojin warns but when she sees you extending your hand towards the plate where warm, already made ones lay, her gaze softens. “I changed the recipe a little bit to make it vegan. For Taehyung.” The corners of her mouth lift up slightly at the mention of her boyfriend.
Taking the first bite of the roll, you hum between chews, “Tastes good. Like the non-vegan ones.”
“I guess I made a good job then,” Soojin laughs. “But seriously though, Y/N, don’t play coy right now. I saw Namjoon's car on the driveway. Has he signed the papers yet?” she asks.
“Nope.” you respond, emphasizing the ‘p'.
“Is you being here has something to do with him?”
“Kind of.”
You look up to meet her eyes and that’s your first mistake because Soojin has something in them that makes you reveal every secret you hide right on the spot. It has always been like this between the two of you, you coming to your two years younger sister to talk instead the other way round. You still admire it in her, the determination and persistence she has. You were the parent’s favourite child from the very beginning and Soojin knowing that, was determined to do everything they would have never wanted for her. She graduated college with degree in journalism and writes to the local newspaper, at the same time saving money to publish her own novel in the future.
Your parents bitterly accepted it, just like your future career path, but they weren’t going to let her be that easily, arranging a meeting with possible husband-to-be a year after you got married to Namjoon. Little did they know she had been already madly in love with Kim Taehyung, the photographer who she met on an internship. And instead of going on a date with Park's youngest son, she proudly sent your parents a picture of her and Taehyung with a caption ‘sry im taken' like she was responding to some horny man on Instagram.
You never keep anything from her. She was the first person you told you were in love with Namjoon and she was the first one to know you want a divorce.
“It is about the divorce papers, isn’t it? He doesn’t agree to split up? Is he making any difficulties?” Soojin asks question after question, and you shake your head.
“It’s not that. He will sigh them eventually, I know this.”
Your sister purses her lips. “Of course he will because he loves you,” she says matter-of-factly. You bite your lips so hard you might draw blood. “Do you want to know what I really think about this whole situation?” You nod hesitantly. “I think you’re making a big mistake here, sis, divorcing Namjoon. And have in mind that I am the one telling you this.” She points her index finger at herself for emphasis. “When you told me about that I was more confused than anything else because who the fuck would want to divorce someone like Namjoon. I wouldn’t.”
“Me neither!” You hear Taehyung shouting from the living room.
“Shut up, Tae, it’s ladies talk! Don’t listen!” Soojin shouts back. Her boyfriend’s giggle echoes through the house. “Anyway, back to my point. I know it doesn’t always seem like that but I like Namjoon, despite all the banter between the two of us. He’s a good guy and I’m sure he would never hurt you. That’s why it came as a shock to me.”
You don’t even know how to answer her. Because quite literally, you aren’t so determined about your decision anymore, as you had been just weeks ago. You feel like you’re doing the right thing yet at the same time you can’t help but question your motives. You came here for Christmas food, for fuck's sake, and now you’re having a free therapy session with your little sister.
Last months, of course, has been tough. Namjoon's firm had its first crisis since he’s become the CEO. He was spending most of his daytime at work, sometimes he was at the office even during the night hours, and at some point your shared life at home started lacking of intimacy and affection it'd had before. It felt cold to come back to an empty house and it didn’t use to be like that.
At the same time, your own business began blowing out. More and more people were buying clothes from your online shop and you started thinking for real about opening your own atelier in the city. And ironically, your biggest dream, the thing Namjoon had always supported you in, was the cause of your huge argument that lead to the situation you’re currently in.
It was two months ago. You remember your personal assistant Jisoo calling you and rambling incoherently through the phone. You were only able to make out ‘agreed to rent‘ but that was enough information for you. The developer let you make a studio in the place you had chosen, the place you knew was the best destination possible for not huge amount of money. In that moment, you were on cloud nine.
You remember Namjoon coming home late as usual that evening. You had already prepared a celebratory dinner, bought your favourite wine, lighted up some candles to make it even more cheesy but it didn’t matter because you couldn’t even recall when was the last time you both spent your time like this. Alone, all to yourselves.
Hearing the jingle of the keys you rushed to the door, wrapping your arms around his neck as soon as he closed them behind himself. He stiffened at your touch but you ignored it, hugging him tightly. Sensing his discomfort, you pulled off, looking at him with a grin plastered on your face.
You were too lost in your own excitement to notice how sad Namjoon looked. “I did it!” you blurted out. “Namjoon, I did it! The developer said yes. I can start arranging my own atelier!”
You saw a faint smile on his lips, however it didn’t reach his eyes at all. He sighed and when he spoke after, his voice sounded weary. “Congratulations.” He wasn’t excited like you. There was no trace of a man in him who told you to go after your dreams no matter what. He’s eyes looked shallow.
Your brows furrowed. You instantly felt irritation bubbling in your throat. “That’s it? You don’t have anything more to say?” you snorted.
‘I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah. You look so ecstatic,” you said, voice laced with sarcasm.
At that, Namjoon seemed to have lost his control as well. He bit the inside of his cheek before scoffing, “What do you want me to say, Y/N? Should I dance on the table? Open the door to balcony and shout out my immense happiness to the whole neighborhood?”
You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “I just expected more support from my own, beloved husband. That’s it.”
Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Listen, Y/N. I really don’t want to argue. I had a bad day at work, a whole week actually, and I just want to spend some time alone.” He stormed off the hallway, walking into your shared bedroom.
“Don’t turn your back on me right now, Kim Namjoon!” you shouted after him, entering the room as well. “We aren’t done yet.”
Namjoon practically threw his suitcase on the desk, turning to face you abruptly. “I am done.”
“Everyone has bad days. Me too. You aren’t the only one struggling here, Namjoon. It doesn’t give you the right to act like that.”
Upon hearing that, he chuckled darkly. You saw him gnawing his bottom lip, as if he was debating if he should say what he was going to. “You’re right. Everyone has shitty days. But for your information, mine was the worst since I’ve started running this fucking business. Do you know what happened?” he asked. “Our main investor retreated his shares from the project. Do you have an idea how much is that? 20 fucking percent. That’s a lot of money when there’s a crisis on the stock market and inside the firm as well. So excuse me, Y/N, but I have too much on my own mind to care about your stupid shop.” He slumped down on his chair and rubbed his temples.
You stared at him, trying to fight back the tears trying to spill from your eyes. You didn’t want to break down in front of him. This was your day. You were supposed to celebrate, not cry because your husband acted like an absolute asshole. Yet the tears started rolling down your cheeks involuntarily.
“I’m sorry.” you uttered, exiting the room.
Namjoon looked up, catching the glimpse of your expression and that was the moment he realised his mistake. He stood up and ran after you. “Y/N, wait! I didn’t mean it like that, shit!”
You stopped in your tracks to face him. You were fully crying right now and something in Namjoon's chest tightened at the sight. “Don’t say anything, Namjoon. I get it. Your business is more important than my stupid shop. It’s fine, really.” You sniffed, wiping the smudges of mascara underneath your eyes.
Namjoon put his hand on your arm but when he saw you flinch, he withdrew. “Of course you are important, baby.” he said quietly and another fresh wave of tears streamed down your face when you heard him use his favorite term of endearment for you.
“But it doesn’t look like I am anymore, Namjoon. And that’s the problem.” you uttered brokenly. “I think we should take a break from each other. It’s not healthly for us being together now.”
Namjoon looked anywhere but at you. “If that’s what you want.”
You nodded. “Yeah. It is.”
The break lasted two weeks. You spent some time at Soojin's, travelled to Japan. And when you came back you home you bitterly realised nothing really had changed. Namjoon picked you up at the airport, took you for dinner to your favourite restaurant and back home fucked you so hard and unforgiving you couldn’t remember your own name anymore. He said he missed you and counted days to your arrival. Missed your face, your voice, your pussy wrapped around his cock. You climaxed with his name on your lips and with a promise for a new tomorrow that eventually didn’t come because the reality kicked in sooner than you had expected.
“Don’t you think it was a little bit impulsive of you to file for divorce?” Soojin asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. And you hate your little sister so much because she might be right. You’re definitely far from being all-out and determined about everything. “You know I will be always by your side, Y/N. It’s only your decision to make.” she adds after a moment, reaching to squeeze your hand.
“I know,” you sigh, reciprocating the gesture. “That’s why I need you to do me a favor.”
“I’m all ears.”
You take a deep breath before explaining your initial motives. “First of all, I won’t be at your Christmas dinner. Stop glaring at me like that!” you wail, seeing her expression.
“Babe, do you know where–” Taehyung starts, entering the kitchen but he’s quickly cut off by his girlfriend.
“She won’t be at the dinner!” Soojin points her finger at you accusingly while Taehyung tries to hide his amused smile. He probably has overheard your hushed whispers even though Soojin had asked him not to.
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Because I don’t want Namjoon to spend Christmas alone since he’s mother is on Maldives.” you answer.
Taehyung hums. “Fancy.”
“So you’re spending Chrismtas with Namjoon, right?” Soojin quips, making you nod.
“I am. And that’s why I want to ask if you might share some of your food with me?” you hesitantly wonder and Soojin raises her eyebrows. “We are going to our parents’ cottage and we don’t have time to cook for ourselves.” you explain. She eyes you carefully and you know it’s seconds till she softens. “Please?”
Taehyung nudges her side. “Come on, babe. Let them eat something delicious before they eventually fuck as a final goodbye.”
“Taehyung, that’s not funny!” Soojin protests but her boyfriend only giggles in response. There’s a small smile dancing on your lips and when she locks her eyes with you, she reciprocates it. “Okay, fine. What do you need?”
“What do you have?” you ask.
Soojin gestures for you to come closer to the kitchen counter and opens the fridge. ‘”I've already made bulgogi for Taehyung’s parents so I can give some of it to you. I also cooked kimchi and sweet potatoes. Oh, and those vegan cinnamon rolls. I will pack you a few.” she lists, while taking out the clean food containers from the cupboard.
“Thank you so much.” you breathe out.
“No big deal,” Taehyung assures, sending you a wink. “Although I’m a little bit sad you won’t come for the dinner. Maybe you should just take Namjoon here.” he suggests.
You shake your head. “No, we should spend some time alone, talk through some things and… stuff.” you trail off.
Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “And stuff,”
“Jesus Christ, Taehyung, let them be!” Soojin grumbles, packing the last container into a paper bag and handing it to you. “You owe me something huge for this.” she mumbles but you know she’s just bickering with you. Taehyung hugs her waist tightly from behind, placing his chin on her shoulder and you can help but coo at them.
“Once again, thank you for saving my ass. I gotta go now. Namjoon's waiting.” you say.
“I will walk you to the door,” Soojin proposes, unwrapping herself from Taehyung's arms.
“Bye, Taehyung. Merry Christmas!” You wave at him.
“Bye, Y/N, Merry Christmas! Say hi from me to Namjoon. Oh, and remember: use protect–ouch!” His words die on his tongue when he’s effectively nudged into his stomach with Soojin's elbow.
Giggling under your breath, you shuffle into the hallway. You could sense your sister's eyes on your back while you’re putting on your coat and the moment you turn around, you find her staring at you with puzzled expression.
She sighs before saying, “Y/N, you’re my sister and you know I want the best for you and I will always support your decisions–don’t roll your eyes! I’m having an emotional speech right now,” she huffs, coming up to give you an affectionate hug. “Just please, promise me you won’t do anything reckless or stupid.” she mumbles into the material of your coat.
You shut your eyes tightly. “I promise.”
Soojin clears her throat and pulls away. She looks like she wants to say something more but chooses not to. You’re thankful for that. “Bye, big sis.” she says.
You smile. “Bye, kid.”
You make your way to the car quickly, apologies already on your tongue when you shut the door behind you. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”
Namjoon shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he assures. “How did Soojin's interrogation go?”
“Surprisingly smoothly,” you answer. Smooth is an exaggeration here. It was bumby, with a lot of twists and turns but you made it through with even more conflicted mind and a bag full of food. “She gave me bulgogi.” you add, knowing pretty well what kind of reaction would it elite in Namjoon.
“God, please don’t say things like that. We still have some time before the dinner and I’m already salivating.”
“Let’s go then.”
It’s been quite some time since you’ve been in your parents' holiday cottage.
You didn’t have time to visist it during summer since you were too busy with setting up your own showroom in Seoul and Namjoon… Namjoon was always too caught up in work to have a free weekend. So the last time you’ve had a chance to spend time in their cottage was almost one year ago, in January, on your dad's 52th birthday.
The road to the cottage takes about thirty minutes from the city. It’s situated near the small lake, hidden in a valley surrounded by forests from every side. You’ve always found the place charming and beautiful, ever since you were little with Soojin, when your parents decided to buy land there and built a small house on it.
Your parents visist the cottage regularly, checking out and looking after everything. You had your eighteenth birthday party there. And your bachelorette night was also held there.
You’re halfway through the distance when Namjoon decides to play some music.
He turns on the radio connected to his spotify account and puts it on shuffle. When the first tunes of the song start playing, your face instantly flushes in pink.
It’s one of the songs you both included in your ‘sexy times' playlist as you jockingly named it back then when you lived in Namjoon's old apartment with walls too thin to properly mute the sounds of your moans and whimpers of pleasure which were by any means subtle while Namjoon was having his way with you during late hours of the night.
In the corner of your eye you see that Namjoon is as flustered as you are, quickly reaching to change the song but you stop him. “Don't!” He falters. Fucking hell, why did you say it so abruptly? Your blush deepens. “Leave it, please.” So he does.
It’s a sensual melody, one of your favorite songs in general but you’ve never actually played it for yourself since you moved out from that apartment. It brings too many memories because if anything, sex with Namjoon has never been unsatisfactory and plain vanilla. He’s never left you unsatiate and thinking about those lustful moments makes you squirm in your seat, familiar butterflies flattering in your lower stomach.
And from the clench of Namjoon's jaw and his tight grip on a steering wheel, you know he thinks about the same things as you do.
You wonder what flashes behind his eyelids now, because for you, it’s always him hovering above you, chest sweaty and heaving with every ragged breath he takes as he fucks you deep and with purpose. He’s rough but you like him that way, when he loses himself in you. It’s his hand on your throat, on your hips, bruising as he takes you from behind; marred in red skin on your asscheeks when you haven’t been behaving good enough.
It’s him between your thighs, lavishing your cunt with his tongue until you're writhing and begging him to stop but he never listens, bringing you to immense ecstasy until tears well in your eyes and your voice is hoarse from screaming.
It’s his hushed whispers in your ears leaving you bothered and breathless when you’re on some public event together, flithly promises he’s going to fulfill once you're home because the waiter was too flirty and you smiled at him too courteously.
It’s him standing above you, pulling the belt from the loops until it lands on the floor along with his pants and you on your knees, taking his cock in your mouth to please him the best you could. It’s his fingers tangled in your hair, praising words on his lips because you’re such a good girl, always so good for me.
It’s Namjoon and his hands placed securely on your waist, chest flushed to your back when he spoons your spent body after another round of love making. It’s his soothing and calming voice in your ears when you drift off to sleep with his love confessions and gentle touches on your bare skin.
It’s him and you’re scared it will always be only him. The song changes into another and you hope he doesn’t hear the shaky breath you let out. You don't say anything else for the rest of the ride.
“And here we are.”
A thirty minutes long ride has never been more drawn-out than now. Exiting the car, you promise yourself you’re gonna do everything in your power to make this twenty-four hours bearable and not as awkward as your drive here was.
Once the car is parked, Namjoon opens the trunk and takes out your bags from it along with the cardboard box with Christmas decorations. You scurry to help him but he sends you back with a small smile. “It’s okay. Go and open the door, I’ll get this.”
Inside the cottage you’re immediately met with chilly air so the first thing you do after putting Christmas food from Soojin on the kitchen counter is taking care of the fireplace. It’s a new addition to the living room's design, your parents new investment in biofuel energy, or something.
Glancing through the window, you see Namjoon carrying the Christmas tree into the house and soon it’s standing right in the middle of the room in its full glory.
Namjoon claps his hands. “Let’s do it, shall we?” he asks, reaching to the cardboard box and pulling out the first item that caught his attention: a golden, glass bauble. But before he could hang it on the tree, it slips from his hands and lands on the floor, shattered into pieces.
“Shit,” Namjoon mutters, crunching down to pick up the mess he’s made.
“Don’t touch it, you’ll cut yourself!”
He stops abruptly and you can clearly distinguish the redness on his cheeks. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” he says sheepishly.
“We should start with the lights,” You take them out from the box and start to untangle. “Okay?”
There’s a small smile on Namjoon lips when he nods his head and helps you put them on the tree. Half an hour later, your collaborative job on decorating the Christmas tree is almost done. The final touch is the golden star you’re trying to attach to the tip without success, until you feel a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist and lifting you up.
You let out a surprised squeak at that, putting the star quickly on it’s right place. Once your feet touch the floor, you turn around just to be met with Namjoon smiling down at you softly. “Good job,” he comments, pointing at the tree. If he sees your flustered state, he doesn’t let you feel it. “We should prepare for the dinner. It’s getting late.” he adds and before you could say anything else, he exits the room and disappears in the hallway.
“Y/N?” Namjoon calls out, entering the kitchen. You whip your head to look at him and can’t help but stare. He’s wearing a plain, blue button-up shirt which sleeves are rolled up and revealing his forearms. He must have taken a shower because his honey blond hair still looks a little bit damp at the roots and when he comes closer to you, you feel the unmistakable musk of his cologne. It’s still the same one he uses after you bought him it some time ago.
“Yes?”
You’re dressed in red just like you were three years ago when you first met in that damned ballroom and it’s really ironic, he thinks. Your probably last civilised meeting being like this, a celebratory Christmas dinner made by your sister in a holiday cottage away from the town.
Whatever he wanted to ask you dies on his tongue the moment he hears your phone buzzing on the counter, your mum's contact number popping up on the screen.
You exhale loudly. “God have mercy,” you mutter, picking up the phone. “Yes, mom?” you say and instantly roll your eyes at the sound of your mother’s rambling from the othe side. We'll talk later, you mouth to him, leaving the kitchen.
Namjoon curses under his breath and against every fiber of his being, he takes a few step closer to where you stand in the hallway, staring out of the window, back facing him.
“No, mom, I’m not at Soojin's,” you say to the phone. “I’m with Namjoon. We are having a Christmas dinner at your cottage.”
You’re silent for a moment, listening to whatever your mum is telling you but Namjoon, even in the dim lighting illuminating from the living room could see you’re tense.
“On Maldives,” you answer. She has probably asked you about his mother, as he supposes. “Mom, I told you to stop asking me this. It’s not your decision to make.”
You take a deep breath before adding, “It’s Christmas. I don’t want to talk about this right now, please.” He knows what you mean by ‘this’. He doesn’t want to think about what future is going to bring either.
Your mother can be too much sometimes and he knows it. He’s stood up and defended you in front of her more than once. Responded cleverly and calmly to her every question about kids. And when she met him for a coffee to talk about the divorce, he simply said he didn’t plan to get you in the way, which probably wasn’t the answer she’d wanted to hear.
“Okay,” you breathe out, nodding. “Love you. Tell dad I love him too. Bye.”
You hung up with a sigh.
Namjoon quickly shuffles to the living room, fishing out his phone and pretending he’s been scrolling through it the whole time. When you enter the room, he’s eyes look up at you.
“How was it?” he asks matter-of-factly.
“You know how my mother is sometimes,” you trail off.
“Yeah,” Namjoon nods. ‘’Too much.”
You smile and Namjoon could actually seen in you right now the girl he’s fallen in love with three years ago. You glance at the clock hanging on the wall and say, “I think we can begin.”
“Do the honors.”
The dinner has gone by smoothly. You felt normal, like nothing ever happened and you start wondering if Namjoon isn’t doing all of this just for old times sake. He can’t be, another voice in your head is saying, he isn’t doing anything extraordinary for him: he’s just him, the same guy who proposed to you with plastic ring and quit his beloved addiction so you could agree to marrying him.
You’re sitting on a couch right now, your favourite Christmas movie (it’s Holiday; your love for Jude Law has never died down since you were a teenager) playing in the background. It was your silly tradition, to watch them every year like those basic couples do. You both know by heart the ‘to me you’re perfect' scene from Love Actually and it never fails to make you laugh when Namjoon recites the lines so dramatically.
You’re sitting so close to him you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, your shoulders brushing with every breath or chuckle he lets out and you find yourself wanting to lean into him more. You wish he wrapped his arm around you, pulled you closer, kissed you on the temple and assured everything would be perfectly fine. But it isn’t.
Nicole Kidman has already landed in Los Angeles when you feel Namjoon shifting next you. He takes something out of his pants' pocket, nudging your side in process so you peek at him. You know he wants to say something but doesn’t have an idea how to start, you’ve been with him too long not to recognize the way he wets his lips and rubs his hands on his thighs as the sign of his nervousness. Which makes you jittery as well.
When he finally decides to shoot, Cameron Diaz meets drunk Jude Law for the first time.
“Y/N?” he says to get your attention because he doesn’t know you’ve been more than aware this whole time.
“Yes?”
You’re breathless and you don’t even know why. It’s Namjoon, for God’s sake, your own husband, who won’t be one soon, the voice in your head adds.
“I know we agreed on not giving gifts to each other for Christmas but this isn’t actually a gift. I mean… It was a gift once but now it kinda isn’t so technically I’m not breaking an agreement,” He's rumbling. A sight he’s definitely on edge.
Before you could stop yourself, you place your hand on his thigh. It’s a gentle manner, an affectionate touch meant to soothe his nerves. He raises his eyebrows at that, staring at your hand absentmindedly tracking patterns on his leg. You withdraw your hand awkwardly.
Your gaze lands on Namjoon's palm. He’s clutching something in his fist. With a deep exhale he opens it and then you see it: the charm you lost some time ago and haven’t found till now.
It’s a simple, cheesy infinity sign, a gift from him to you. He decided to give it to you this when he saw the bracelet on your wrist and ask you what’s the story behind it, so you told him. Your parents gifted the piece of jewelry to you on your 18th birthday. Then they, including Soojin, bought you charms to complete it. A clover from your dad, a heart from your mum and a star from your sister. And a few days after you shared this with Namjoon, the infinity sign has found its place on the bracelet.
One day you realised the piece he gave you is missing. You searched through the whole house but you couldn’t find it. Ironically, everything seemed to crumble down from the moment you had lost it. And here it lies now, on Namjoon's open palm.
“Cleaning lady found it in my office. It was underneath my desk.”
“I don’t know what to say,” you blurt out.
“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. You can wear it or not, I just wanted you to have it back.”
He lays the charm on your palm and for a brief moment you hesitate before asking him, “Can you–?” gesturing to your wrist.
“Sure.”
He attaches the piece to your bracelet in it’s former, rightful place and there’s a soft smile dancing on his lips. It’s laced with melancholy, making your insides clench uncomfortably. On the screen Graham and Amanda make out and you know there’s something heavy in the air, unspoken words and conversation you should hold but don’t know how to start.
It’s Namjoon who takes the mattress into his own hands this time.
“Do you think we could be friends after all of this will be done?”
The question surprises you. You don’t have a clever answer for that because the future is always uncertain. You don’t even know if you’re making a right decision. You just believe you do.
Maybe joking isn’t the best thing to do now but it’s your shitty defence mechanism against facing the true. You decide to play it cool. “I don’t know about us but I’m sure my dad won’t stop inviting you to play chess with him.” You chuckle.
It doesn’t seem to amuse Namjoon much, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. You clear your throat, avoiding his persistent gaze. That certainly hasn’t been a good thing to say to ease the tension.
“Your mum insisted me for a coffee two weeks ago. To talk.” he says suddenly.
You purse your lips. “What did you talk about?”
“About us. About the divorce,” The movie is playing in the background but you don’t pay attention to it anymore. What’s the most crucial is right here in front of you, in the person of your future ex husband. “She asked me to convince you not to do it. Said you’re irrational and mentioned something about you always making important decisions hastily.”
You roll your eyes. This is so typical of your mother to say something like that. “And what did you say to her?” you ask, afraid of his answer.
“That it’s only your choice to make and I’m not going to stop you if that’s what you want.”
Your breath hitches. Some part of you really wants him to put up a fight. You spent countless hours wondering why isn’t he doing that until it finally hits you like a whiplash: Namjoon has never, ever in his life disrespected your decision. He might not be on the same page as you but he will never beg you to change your mind. That’s his manifest of the love he has for you.
“Namjoon–” you begin but you don’t even know what you’re going to say to that. Fortunately, he cuts you off.
“Don’t pity me right now, Y/N. Let me talk, please.” He's never addressed the divorce directly and even if you’ve been dying these past weeks to find out what’s on his mind, right now, sitting in front of him when you’re both vulnerable, you aren’t sure of anything. “When I read that papers for the first time I thought it's some kind of a cruel joke, you know? But then the seriousness of this hit me and I was like: fuck, it’s really happening, isn’t it?” he says, chuckling bitterly to himself. “I knew it was bad but I hoped that we could figure it out together somehow and the sun will rise again as it always does after the storm. But I guess I was wrong.”
He pauses and you looks down at his hands. They’re shaking and you fight an urge to take them into yours. “So at first, I was mad at you. I was so, so angry I couldn’t even think straight and I started blaming you for this. I bought a pack of cigarettes and lighted up one but I never finished it. I threw the whole pack into the trash can.” He lets out a long sigh. You’re feeling like the whole air has been sucked out of this room, your heart racing with anticipation of his next words.
“A part of me wanted to pick the sword and fight. But then, one night a few days after I read the papers, I was in my office. I sat there staring at the wall and thinking through everything. And that was when I decided it’s all my fault we are in this kind of situation. You laid it all in front me and I still couldn’t fucking believe I am the problem.”
You’re shaking your head because no, it’s not like this, it isn’t only his doing, but he doesn’t let you speak. “You’re so special, Y/N. You make the world revolve around you. I envy you,” Namjoon says, making you furrow your brows in confusion. “You’re pursuing your dreams and you managed to do all of this on your own. There was no family business you were destined to run like I am. All I do is sit in my father’s chair and try not to fuck up everything he’s built so far. And you, Y/N,” He faces you fully, staring at you with so much love and adoration you want to look away. But you can’t. “You’re so much more than this. And now I know I was just holding you back. But I love you enough to let you go.”
You’re loss for words. Before Namjoon could register what is happening, your hands are on his cheeks and you’re kissing him.
You’re kissing him until you lose you breath, until you both can’t think straight and you’re drinking from each other’s mouths like you’ve been thristing for it for years. Namjoon tastes like the red wine you drank earlier and something only akin to him.
He’s surprised at first, not really comprehending it’s your mouth slotted over his, your breath mingling with his. It takes a sharp intake of air from you to him to sprang into action. He kisses you fiercely, like he’s been dying and your lips where the only cure which could heal him. He sighs into your mouth like he’s finally feeling relieved. Like you’re his savior.
When his hands find purchase on your waist, you feel like you’re grounded after floating in the air for so long. Kissing Namjoon feels like home and you’re scared you will never going to experience this kind of halcyon ever again.
It’s Namjoon who breaks off the kiss first. He’s breathless, panting against your swollen lips and his eyes are shimmering. “God, Y/N,” He sounds pained, like he’s holding onto the last straw of his sanity. ‘’Please, let me have you one last time. I need you so bad, baby.”
He never begs but here he is, shaking and vulnerable, with his hands gripping you so tightly like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear the second he’ll let go. You’re nodding frantically at his words and he dives for your lips again. He doesn’t ask you to use your words like he usually does when you’re both in the mood to play. It’s raw and pure passion when he opens the seam of your mouth with his tongue, when he urges your body to lay back on the couch so he could hover over you.
It’s been long, too long, since he’s seen you like this; keening when his teeth graze your throat and whimpering when he sucks the skin in between harshly and you know it’ll blossom rich red the next morning.
Your hands move on their own accord, reaching to fumble with the buttons of his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin underneath your fingertips. When the garment pops open you can’t help but run your palms over smooth expanses of Namjoon's chest, digging into every ridge and deep of the flesh so you feel him tense under your touch.
He detaches himself from your neck and takes off the shirt, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Sitting on his knees and straddling your waist, he looks down at you with hooded eyes. “Take of your dress,” he commands and you hurry to obey him. You missed this side of him, his deep voice that never fails to make you squirm in pleasure and anticipation of his next move.
You get up from the couch, pulling the zipper of your dress down and letting the material fall to the floor with light thud. You don’t know why you’re suddenly feeling self-conscious, standing in front of Namjoon only in your linegerie. He’s seen you exposed like this many times before yet something about the way his eyes roam your body makes you bite your lip. It’s an expensive set and you’re suddenly aware he was the one who had bought you it. You wonder if he remembers that.
He gestures for you to come closer and with an unexpected boost of confidence you step out of the dress pooled around your ankles and move to straddle his lap. His hands immadietly find purchase on your waist and you wrap yours around his neck, leaning to kiss him.
He groans when your teeth graze his bottom lip and you feel him squeezing your sides tightly. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your mouth, making the corners of your lips lift up in a smile. “Let me take care of you, baby.”
Something swells in your lower regions at that. A sheer want and crimson desire for him to claim you as his for the one last time.
Namjoon reaches to unclasp your bra but he stops with his fingers brushing just underneath the material. “Can I?” he asks gently. No matter how many times he’s fucked you, how many times he's brought you to the brick of pleasure until you were screaming, he’s always waiting for you to grant him consent first.
“Yes.” It’s the confirmation he needs to unclasp it, letting the straps fall to your shoulders and free your breasts to his wandering hands.
One of the things you’ve learnt about Namjoon during years of sleeping with him is that he’s boobs man. So it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when his palms engulf your mounds, squeezing them gently.
Soon he’s leaning closer, taking one of your nipples into the hot crevice of his mouth and bitting down on it so you let out a small noise of content. The angle is awkward but he doesn’t seem to care, sucking the hardened bud until you’re writhing in his lap, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging slightly on the roots.
“Namjoon, please,” you whimper, feeling his fingers brushing the waistband of your panties. You’re rubbing yourself against the bulge that has formed in his pants, needing more, always more of him because you know he’s up to please.
He pulls out from your nipple with light pop sound. “What do you want, baby?” he prompts; the chilly air in the room washes over your bare body and you shudder from the sensation, your core getting wetter with each passing second.
“Want you to touch me.”
“Yeah? Want me to touch your pretty pussy with my fingers?”
You nod, shutting your eyes tightly when his palms find the inside of your thighs where you need him the most, where you’re throbbing with the desire for him to touch you.
He runs his index finger through the material of your underwear where you’re sure a wet spot has formed already. “Answer me,” Namjoon demands and his other hand squeezes your hip harder. There’s a part of you wanting to play with him a little, push his strings to the point he has no choice but put you in your place, bend carelessly over his lap and make you count till he forgives.
But today, it’s not time for that.
You whimper. It’s actually funny how single touch of his combined with his autorative tone can make such a mess of you in span of minutes. “Joon, please,” you moan, bucking your hips into his hand. ‘’Touch me with your fingers.”
Namjoon smirks in response. “Open your legs wider for me, baby.” You do as you’re told, exposing yourself to him. He hums, pulling the material of your panties to the side. “Fuck, you’re dripping. Is this all for me?” A part of him is disgusted for wanting you to know he’s the only one who can make you like this. It’s ugly possessiveness but he needs you to say it. Needs you to admit it.
“All for you. Always for you, Joon–please,” It’s a breathless plea on your lips that makes him dig his fingers into your wetness. He runs his long digits through your slick folds, thumb circling your clit and you mewl, biting your lip in favor to contain yourself from moaning shamelessly aloud so soon. Namjoon however doesn’t like that idea.
“Don’t hold back, baby. Let me hear you.”
His middle finger prods at your entrance and you gasp when he pushes it inside, immediately adding second to the mix and curling them up just right, making your walls clench around them. His thumb still abuses your sensitive nub and you’re whimpering incoherently as he toys with your pussy with practiced ease.
You open your eyes to look at him but his sight is solemnly focused on the way his fingers are sinking into your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to edge until you are actually feeling the coil in your lower stomach tightening. But when you’re about to cry out in pleasure, it all stops abruptly.
Namjoon withdraws his hand from your pussy, placing a small kiss on your pouty mouth briefly, as if he’s apologizing for you denied release. You watch him bring his fingers to his pillowy lips, groaning as his tongue tastes your juices.
“Fuck, you’re so sweet, baby. Wanna taste your pretty pussy.”
Your face grows hot at his dirty words. Namjoon's filthy mouth is something that never has never failed to turn you on. He knows what to say to get you going, to make a shiver run down your spine and insides tighten.
He mannevrous your body so you’re laying back on the couch again with him hovering above you. He takes off your soiled panties and tosses it on the floor.
“Spread your legs.”
You oblige, revealing your dripping center to his hungry eyes. You don’t even have time to shy away from his intense stare because he wastes no time and dives in, lowering himself to bury his head between your thighs. He licks the first strip up your folds and locks his clouded in lust eyes with you. You almost come right there on the spot just from the sight of his plush lips covered in your slick.
He eats you out like a man starved, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue and sucking it into his mouth obscenely loud, making you moan out in pleasure. You aren’t even holding back now, lifting your hips to chase your high but he effectively pins you down in place with his palms sprawled on your hips.
He laps up your slit, tongue dipping briefly inside your hole and causing more of your wetness to gush out. “Fuck, I could eat you out all day. You taste so good, baby.” he groans, sinking two of his digits into you until he’s knuckle-deep, hitting your sweet spot with every scissoring movement of his fingers.
You cry out, lacing your fingers through his locks and tugging harsher than you’ve anticipated when his tongue flicks your clit. “Joon, fuck–please, wanna cum.” He starts pounding his fingers lewdly into you faster at that, dragging it through your velvet folds until you're writhing. “Oh, God. P-please.”
“You’re so perfect, baby. Such a good girl. Let go for me.” he murmurs against your pussy, pushing you into your upcoming release.
Your vision blurr and you’re coming undone on his fingers and tongue, breathing heavily. Namjoon doesn’t stop though. He wraps his lips around your abused clit again, lapping your wetness greedily until you’re shaking from oversensitivity.
“N-namjoon–stop, I can’t,” you whine, shaking your head. Tears well in your eyes, hands fisting by your sides.
But Namjoon's doesn’t listen to your pleading cries. He’s ravenous and loves seeing you desperate like this more than anything. “Give me another one, baby. I know you can,” he breaths out. “Show me this pussy belongs to me.”
His onslaught on your cunt and crude words push you over the edge for the second time and you’re spilling all over his mouth again, screaming out his name.
He waits for you to calm down from your high, rubbing soothing circles on your sides. When you finally open your eyes, you see him smiling down at you, lips and chin covered in your juices he messily wipes with the back of his hand. He leans to kiss you, tongue lacing with yours until you’re tasting yourself on it. He swallows your moans, reaching to fumble with his belt buckle.
Pulling back from the kiss, he stands up to discard the rest of his clothes on the floor. You can see him in his full glory now. You take him in, from his neck and collarbones, through the taunt muscles of his abdomen and prominent v line to the trimmed hairline where you see his cock, hard and leaking precum against his stomach. Your mouth salivates at the sight.
He crawls over you, pumping himself as his eyes roam your nude, pliable body. Your hand stretches to replace his with your own and he lets you do it. Smearing his creamy release all over his length, you keep stroking him like this. Namjoon groans at that, throwing his head back.
You sit up on your knees but before you could take him into your mouth, he stops you. “As much as I want to see you with my cock in your pretty mouth, I need to be inside you now.” Buds of sweat dribble down his forehead and you know he’s holding himself back from flipping you on your stomach and fucking you into next week.
You scoot back and lay yourself, watching as he runs the tip of his dick through your dripping slit. He hisses at the sensation, looking up at you, pupils blown out with lust. “Beg for it, Y/N,” he says, voice deepening. “I want to hear you begging for my cock.”
“Please, Joon,” you mewl, moaning when his tip taps your clit.
He doesn’t seem to be satisfied with your answer, biting the inside of his cheek. “Please, what?” He leans closer, until his forehead is touching yours. “Say it.” he demands.
“Please, fuck me,” Your palms cup his cheeks, breath fanning over his parted mouth. It’s pure desire mixed with desperation when you utter your next words. “Fuck me so hard I can’t think straight, make me forget all of this. Please, Namjoon.”
He doesn’t need to hear anything more. He pushes himself inside you until he’s buried to the brim; your warm, wet walls letting him slide into you easily. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut.
“Shit,” Namjoon curses, closing his eyes as well. His face confronts in both pleasure in pain and you know he’s trying hard no to pound into you. He waits few bits of ragged breaths for you to adjust and starts moving. The first drag of his cock through your walls sends you into frenzy and you moan wantonly when he hits you right there when you want him the most. “You’re so tight, baby. So good, just for me, yeah?” he slurs, picking up his pace.
You nod, lips choking out, “Just for you.” and eyes rolling back in pleasure.
He groans at your words, hands fighting purchase on either sides of your head. You feel so fucking full, his cock plunging into you faster and faster with each passing second. His eyes dip down where his body ends and yours begin, watching himself disappear into your cunt.
“God, I’m gonna miss this so fucking much,” he blurts out before he could stop himself, in a moment of careless ecstasy he’s delivering to the both of you. It slips from his lips roughly and hits you right in the guts but you can’t let yourself dwell in this. Not now.
Now it’s just you and him fucking you into oblivion you’re oh so much craving.
His face falls to the crook of your neck, kissing, biting and sucking every inch of skin he could find as if he’s trying to embed his mark on you forever. Like he foolishly thinks you’ll stay his and only his after all of this will be done.
Namjoon speeds up, thrusting his dick into you in what seems as an animalistic pace now, hammering into your sweet spot with every slam of his hips, making you see stars behind your closed eyelids. He lift up his head to stare at your face.
“Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, engulfing your cheek in his palm. His thumb traces your bottom lip, your eyes snapping open at his command. Your tongue laps at his finger until he pushes it inside your mouth, groaning when he feels you sucking on it. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, so hot–fuck. You take me so well.” he nothing but growls, sliding his hand from your face down your body, until it reaches the apex of your thighs.
Fingers finding your clit, he smirks when he hears you moan his name. “You like that?” he asks, voice sounding almost mocking but you’re keening, nodding frantically. “Want me to make you cum?”
“Yes, yes! P-please, Joonie,”
“I got you, baby. Come for me.”
You’re orgasming the third time this night, even harder than before, clutching onto his arms like they’re your lifeline. He fucks you through this, pushing you past the uncomfortable oversensitivity. You feel his hips loosening their rhythm, thrusting into you sloppily and chasing his own high.
He drops his forehead onto yours, lips hovering inches from kissing yours. “I love you so fucking much,” he chockes out and you feel something wet staining your cheek. Looking up, you find him staring at you with the same kind of fondness he’s been giving you during these past years. It’s Namjoon, your Namjoon who’s never disrespected your choice, who always gives you the part of himself he’s afraid to show to the whole world.
Before you could register what’s happening, you’re sobbing into his mouth, “I love you too,” and kissing him to the point you’re both breathless. You feel his dick twitch and then he’s spilling inside you, coating your walls with his seed in white.
You stay like that for a while, basking in post-orgasmic bliss. You’re rubbing soothing touches on Namjoon's back till he eventually pulls out from you. His cum dribbles down your thighs and you wince when you feel him cleaning you up with your ruined panties. Then, Namjoon puts on his boxers and helps you wear his dress shirt and button it up.
He picks you up from the couch without a word and carries to the bedroom. He lays you down onto the mattress, taking his place behind you. He throws the comforter over your bare bodies, snuggling closer to your back. You feel his breath on your neck, warm and comforting.
He places a small kiss on your shoulder and exhales shakily. “You’re the best thing that have ever happened to me, Y/N,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”
You don’t answer him because you’re afraid of what you might say. Your throat constricts and tears involuntarily spill from your eyes, coating your cheeks in wetness. Namjoon's arm tightens around you and for the first time since you’ve given him those damned papers, he’s laying next to you like this, chest pressed flush to your back.
When his breath slows down after a while, you let yourself cry to sleep. You dream about a boy smoking a cigarette on a bench in front of an old manor.
It’s the sunshine who wakes you up the next morning.
The first thing you think about his that someone has seemed to forget to shut the curtains out for the night. It’s definitely too bright for your liking so you narrow your eyes as soon as they're met with the light. Blinking heavily, you realise where exactly are you. You don't remember you walls being wooden. It’s not your apartment. Which means you're in one of the many rooms in your parents' holiday cottage.
Turning away from the window, you’re faced with Namjoon's bare back. He always sleeps without his shirt on, no matter how cold sometimes it can be. He’s like a human equivalent of a heater. You observe the steady rise and fall of his body and listen to his quiet snoring. It’s something comforting in this and you find yourself seeking his warmth. You shuffle closer to him but then you stop abruptly.
It all hits you like a tsunami.
The dinner, your talk about the divorce, heated confessions and whispered I love yous with tear strained cheeks. His body against yours as he fucked you hard and unforgiving. It was silly for you to let yourself indulge but you couldn’t help but grant his one last wish. His arms around you when you were drifting off to sleep, his pained voice when he was murming sweet nothings to your ears.
And now he’s right next to you, as he’s been there forever, deep in unaware slumber where the reality of your life is nonexistent. You’re wondering what he dreams about.
Suddenly you’re brought back in time to one morning three years ago when you were still newlyweds, still trying to get used to being tied together for life. It was one of your last mornings in Namjoon’s old apartment. After a round of passionate love making, both of you laid in each other's arms on the bed. Young, foolish and so in love you’ve never wanted to leave the embrace of his firm and protective hold on your body.
“Can I ask you something?”
Namjoon hummed hearing your voice, fingers brushing your shoulders with absentminded, affectionate manner and pressing into tight knots from time to time, easing the tension.
You took a deep breath, your digits playing with your wedding ring underneath the sheets. “How do you think our first big argument will look like?” you asked.
You felt Namjoon's body shaking with laughter as he hide his face in your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. “Why are you even asking me this? Do you want me to get mad at you? Do I have a reason?” There was a slight teasing lilt to his voice and you knew he was smirking.
“Namjoon,” you whined.
“I know I have to put the dishes into the dishwasher after using them. And I swear I’m not going to use your hair conditioner ag–‘’
“Joon, I’m serious.” you huffed and he stopped because of the seriousness of your voice.
“Okay, okay. Go on, elaborate on that.”
You sighed, scrunching your eyebrows. You didn’t even know how to vocalize your thoughts. A part of you was aware how irrational and probably ridiculous you sounded but it was Namjoon. He was the closest person to you. He would never judge you and always listen to what you wanted to say.
“You know, recently I read those statistics about people under twenty five getting married…”
“Oh, God, Y/N. I’m someone who deals with statistics on daily basis. How many times do I have to remind you they’re not always relevant?” Namjoon interrupted.
You elbowed his side. “Let me finish!” you pouted, earning a kiss on your crown in response and muffled ‘sorry, babe’. “Basically they say the younger you get married, the possibility of having a divorce is higher.” you explained.
“So you’re trying to say that we fit in those statistics?”
“I didn’t mean that!” you protested. It wasn’t the case. This stupid article was just a something that made you start wondering. “It’s just… I’m scared, Joon. Of our future, what it will bring to us. We got married so early and I know the first crisis will come to us eventually but what will we do then?” you asked, voice quivery.
Namjoon was silent for a moment, until he spoke again. “Are you asking me what would I do if we got into an argument?”
You nodded shyly.
Namjoon squeezed your hand as he was saying with it he was here to hold onto when you needed him. “It’s okay if you’re scared, baby. I am too. But I can assure you that no matter what happens between us, I will do everything in my power to fix that,” he said. “I love you, Y/N. Back then in that ballroom when we first met I knew you were going be my wife one day. And I promised myself that if I ever felt like I was hurting you, I would let you go and be free.”
You pouted. “I don’t wanna lose you, dummy. Stop saying you will hurt me!”
He chuckled. “There are always good and bad days when you’re in love with someone. But they say the sun will rise again even after the biggest storm, right? If you love someone enough, you will overcome all those crisis you were talking about. And change the statistics. ” he said, making you chuckle at his last remark. “I can’t ask you to never leave me but promise me you will always do whatever makes you happy. Okay?”
He lifted his pinky finger and you brought yours, linking them together in a cute, silly manner. “I promise.” you murmured.
Now, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling, you realise how wrong you were this whole time.
It’s Namjoon who’s making you happy. You can’t let your first, big crisis take him away from you because he thinks you’ll be better without him. Fuck the statistics, fuck everything honestly. You’re having the world by your feet when he’s with you, and you’re not going to give up on that so easily.
He is your first love and you’re not letting him leave you so easily.
Standing on wobbly legs from the bed, you make your way to the kitchen. You have a plan in your head and you hopefully will manage to succeed.
You stop in your tracks by the mirror hanging on the wall, staring at your reflection. You definitely like you’ve had a rough night. There are smudges of mascara underneath your eyes because you haven’t removed your makeup before going to sleep and your hair’s a mess. There are splotches of red and violet covering the skin of your neck and cleavage and you’re more than aware now that Namjoon's shirt you’re wearing isn’t buttoned properly.
After washing your face in the bathroom, you enter the kitchen. You pull out from the fridge all the groceries you bought yesterday with Namjoon with purpose to make a breakfast the next day after Chrimstas Eve and start cooking.
You’re going to make your husband's favourite French toast.
Both of you have never been master chefs at cooking, in most cases choosing to eat out in the city or simply order something for dinner but breakfasts have always been something you are celebrating together in your house. And you can proudly admit you’re better than making them than your dear husband.
However, stress is a factor that makes you feel paralyzed in various kinds of situations so before you could blink an eye, you’re smelling something burning. You jump in horror, dropping the teaspoon on to the floor with loud clicking sound. There it is, Namjoon's French toast laying on your pan utterly inedible.
“Fuck!” you curse, sitting on a stool by the kitchen island and burying your face in hands.
Tears well in your eyes. For once you’ve wanted to do something right and here you are, crying over burnt toast because you have no time to make another one and Namjoon's probably already up–
“Good mornin–baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Namjoon's soft, a little raspy voice startles you. Your heart swells hearing the petname he's addressed you. Lifting your face up, you’re met with his worried expression.
He looks so normal. Like in every single morning you’ve spent together. He’s wearing his favourite, blue pajama pants and a plain, white tshirt. He hasn’t even put on eye contacts yet, choosing to wear his glasses instead that have successfully made you feel weak in the knees a few times before.
“Why are you crying?” he asks. You sniffle, gesturing with your hand to the kitchen counter where still lays the burnt toast. Namjoon follows your line of sight, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t understand.”
You let out a shaky sigh, trying to calm down your breathing. “I wanted to make you a b-breakfast. And I fucked up as always because I burnt your favourite French toast.” you stammer out before another fresh wave of sobs racks through your body.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Namjoon crunches down in front of you, placing his hand on your bare knee and rubbing the skin in soothing manner meant to calm your nerves. Just like you did to him last night when he tried to confess his feelings about the divorce. “It’s okay. We can make another one together.”
“But I wanted to do that just for you!”
Namjoon shakes his head and you could see a small smile dancing on his lips. “Silly, why were you so determined to make me a breakfast?”
“Because that’s what you deserve,” you say firmly.
“I deserve to have a good breakfast?” he teases.
You angrily wipe the tears off your cheeks. “You deserve everything!” you exclaim, making Namjoon raise his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re always so good to me, Joonie. This Christmas made me realise just how much you care about me. I can’t let you agree to the divorce so easily,”
“What do you mean?”
You stand up from the stool and he follows you, towering over your form. You feel small but in a good way. You feel safe. “There will be no divorce. I’m not going to leave you.”
Namjoon cups your cheeks and he’s grinning like a fool but he needs you to say it. So he begs. “Please, tell me why is that.”
Your lips are already touching his when you whisper, “Because I love you. And I don’t think I will ever find someone quite like you, Joon.”
And then he’s kissing you. Your teeth clash but you don’t care, standing on your toes to mould your mouths together in better angle. He lifts you up from the floor with ease, swirling your bodies around. You’re laughing together and he isn’t even ashamed there is a tear or two running down his cheeks.
When he places you on the ground again, he knows he isn’t dreaming. He’s just living his dream life, with you by his side.
“I love you too.”
And just like that, your history together starts again.
Bonus:
“We made up with Namjoon.”
You hear your sister shriek on the other side. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you actually banged. You’re nasty, Y/N.”
“It wasn’t like that! I’m telling you we aren’t getting a divorce and the only thing you can think about is us having sex?”
But Soojin isn’t listening to you anymore. You hear her shouting, “Taehyung, they fucked and now they aren’t getting a divorce!”
“Soojin-ah!” you wail.
Taehyung's faint voice reaches your eyes. “I told you they would make up. You owe me fifty!”
“You made a bet?!” you exclaim.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. Ghhh-shh. The connection is-shh-bad! I don’t hear-shhh-you! Bye!” She hangs up before you could say anything else.
Entering the kitchen, you’re met with your husband, casually sipping on his coffee. He lifts his eyebrows when he sees you and asks, “How's your little sister? Is she planning to rip off my balls?”
“Nope. But I’m changing my statement about her. She’s evil.” you say, sitting on a stool next to him.
“Glad we’re on the same page, baby.”
#namjoon smut#bts smut#btswritingcafe#ksmutclub#bangtanarmynet#smutcentralnet#btsbookclub#bangtanhq#btswriterscollective#hyungsmutsociety#namjoon angst#bts scenario#bts fanfic#namjoon fluff#namjoon x reader#namjoon#namjoon fic#bts#my writing
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Storm Season (1/???)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Word count: 1749
Content warning: N/A
Synopsis: Voss comes back from the fleet and makes a new friend. :)
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The docks of Delhon rarely saw fleet ships returning, but when they did it was so often for bad reasons. After all, returning soldiers tended to… shy away from reuniting with their lovely home city. For whatever reason.
Voschi watched the docks from a few streets up, the ship that just dumped him and a few others back to Alternia buzzing with trolls ready for liftoff. Cigarettes had been the first thing he’d gotten once his land legs were back, and this uphill corner store had the best vantage point. It was… bittersweet, to say the least. Not being allowed back. Ever. The nuisance he’d made of himself was apparently too much to keep around after his mysterious, doubly fatal accident. Not enough to leave him dead, though. He’d miss his position, the degree of respect he was owed. And maybe Vassal. A little.
Yet the freedom of being bound to pavement once more was… exhilarating. The rude, aggressive sounds of the upper city, the loud argument about something happening a few streets over… There was something beautiful about Delhon’s crust. Homey. Comforting. But perhaps that was the cigarettes- cheap lung rippers that he’d missed more than anyone he’d ever known here. It probably wasn’t good for him in the long run, especially considering his semi-recent recovery from some major head trauma, but it felt good now.
Right now, this was all that mattered, loitering outside this corner store with his bag slung over his shoulder. Worrying about the rest of his life wouldn’t do him any good, and yet... Did he still have a hive, even? He hadn’t been gone that long, but still… Considering the circumstances of his, er, discharge, he hadn’t exactly been set up with anything substantial.
“Spare a light?” Came a voice, shaking him out of his thoughts. It took a moment for him to realize that was addressed to him, and another to fully take in who it belonged to. His heart jumped, setting off his pulse in ways he hadn’t felt in a good long while.
A young-but-still-older-than-him anon. Clearly jade though, judging by the fangs. He had gorgeous, long curly hair, with a bit of chin… scruff felt too… low class for him, but that’s what it was. He was far too well put together for this part of town. Too… buttoned up and tucked in and shiny. Voschi’s mouth was almost too dry to answer him.
“You’re too pretty too be smoking.” He replied, more hoarse than usual. The troll laughed, his fangs shifting with his lips in an absolutely fascinating way.
“No would suffice, sweetheart.” He said, an amused smile perking up the corners of his mouth. “Suppose I’ll go have to buy another lighter, then…”
“Wait- no, here-” Voschi fumbled in his jacket pocket, thoroughly caught off guard by sweetheart. “Sorry, I just- here it is.” The troll held out his cigarette for Voschi, who struggled to remember how lighters worked for far too long not to notice. This guy was weirdly patient, at least.
“Thank you, baby.” He said daintily, with a flutter of his eyes. “What brings you to-”
The sudden, loud rip of the fleet transfer ships engine stopped the whole street as it took off from the water. Voss winced hard as it rattled his damaged head. Definitely wasn’t going to be missing that one any time soon.
“My, that answers that question.” Grumbled Voss’ smoking buddy, unfurling his massive ears from under his hands. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and blew out an annoyed cloud of smoke.
“Worse on the inside.” Voss snorted. “Believe me.”
“Going to have to.” The anon sighed, eyeing the ship’s ascent back to its mother, just barely visible in the thick atmosphere over Delhon. “Never had the luxury myself.”
“Quite the luxury.” Voschi said with a roll of his eyes. “They really roll out the pink carpet when they toss you back out, big ol’ thing. Lucky I could drag myself outta the adoring public when I did.”
“Oof, bitter are we?”
“Little bit.” Voschi eyed this stranger. The heel of his shoes made him just taller than him, and they were nice. Sexy. Expensive, as sexy often was. The stance was… relaxed, subtly intimidating, all too familiar. “Surprised you never been up though. You got an air about you, mister.”
“An air, sweetheart?” He asked, quirking a thick eyebrow.
“Authoritative type. You definitely been bossin’ people around for a hot minute.”
“Oh, have I?” The way he watched Voschi was careful, curious, perhaps a bit excited somewhere in there too. “I'd like to hear your theories.” Voschi scratched the scar on his chin and hummed.
“Lemme see… Not fleet, less you’re lying to me for some reason, in the wrong part of town to be the overlord of some office building even though you sure look like you could be. You could be a cop. Or a caverns overseer.”
“Caverns?” He interjected before Voss could pitch another guess. Voschi shrugged.
“C’mon man, it’ll take a lot more than a couple of grey contacts to hide the scent of jade. Fangs I coulda given you- if they were stationary. Plus jadebloods are always prettier, in my experience.”
The “anon” put his hands on his hips and clicked his tongue, looking somewhere between annoyed and impressed. Of course Voss was right, because rarely was he wrong. A sense of pride- smugness really- he hadn’t felt in a while bubbled up inside him.
“Fascinating. They let you go?”
“Gets annoying after a while, apparently.” He said nonchalantly as he could with a crooked smirk crawling up the side of his lips. “Got a smart ass mouth on me.”
“Oh I can see that, detective.” Mr. Totally Not Jade hummed, almost to himself. “Looks like someone tried to fix that too, huh?” Voss laughed and ran his tongue across that scar, the one marring his lip to the edge of his chin.
“This?” He asked, with a grin. “Yeah, got this one mouthing off to a cop down here a while ago. Mighta deserved it, but still wasn’t very nice.”
“Poor mouthy baby.” He tutted. “Well I do hope that mouth of yours doesn’t get you into any more trouble back planetside, sweetheart. Hate to see you all ripped up Mr…”
“Horjan. No, you can call me Voschi, Voss. Whatever.”
“Oh that’s pretty. Voschi.” The way he said Voss’ name made him shiver. Nearly blush, even. Maybe that was the weather, though.
“Uh, thanks, Mr…”
“Aarika.” Mr. Aarika said, extending a hand. “Mr. Aarika works fine.”
“Uh huh.” Voss said, shaking that hand and… not exactly confirming his blood color theory. Freezing hands like that meant one of two things, and he didn’t like Mr. Aarika for a fish. Though you could definitely fit fins in those ears of his...
“Rainbowdrinker?”
“Gracious you’re observant, Voschi.” Aarika said, daring to boop him on the nose. “Perhaps too much for your own good.”
“Had my hands on a couple of you before.” Voschi shrugged, feeling his heart beat just a bit faster. “Cadavers too, ‘bout the same temperature. Drinkers are warmer though. Slightly.”
“I can see how this could be annoying now.”
Voss laughed harder than he ought to at that. Mr. Aarika didn’t seem too awfully annoyed, but his smile was… less now.
“Sorry, been a while since I got a chance to flex the old mind.” Voss stretched his beanie down over his forehead a bit more, as much as his horns would allow. He could feel that new… feature of his starting to peek out. It was both ugly and didn't react well to the winter Delhon air.
“Oh it’s fine, sweetheart.” Aarika said with a wave of his hand. “I suppose you’re going to go use your powers of deduction for good now that you're back, hm?”
“Nah.”
“No? Then what on Alternia are you going to use that big brain of yours for?”
“Dunno what’s up with me after I leave this street corner.” Voss shrugged. “Kind been avoiding thinking about it, honestly.” Mr. Aarika tapped his chin, something of a pout pursing his pretty lips.
“Well that’s rather concerning to hear, honey.” He said, snubbing the butt of his cigarette out on the wall. “Back to Alternia and no place to go doesn’t sound exactly ideal. Especially in this city.”
“Mmh,” Voss hummed. “Don’t I know it.” He half wondered if that was revealing too much. Temporarily homeless and no plans felt far too… victim-y, especially now considering the circumstances of Mr. Aarika’s… diet. Alleged diet? There did seem to be some genuine concern furrowing his brow- or close to it. Hard to read that far into his honesty this early.
Aarika checked his expensive looking watch- diamonds? That felt far above a cop’s paygrade- and sighed.
“Well look, Voschi, I’ve got to go but I do hope you figure something out.” His fangs poked up when he bit his lip, seemingly unsure about reaching into his jacket pocket as he did so. Voss watched him curiously as he produced a… card?
“I like you.” He said, twirling the shiny gold thing between his fingers. “If you find yourself too out of luck you can call me, sweetheart. I’m sure we could figure something out.”
“Bit sudden, Mr. Aarika.” Voss said, quirking an eyebrow but taking the card regardless. It was thick and pale yellow with shiny gold accents. It kind of reminded Voss of a marble column. The text on the front said “Aarika” in fancy gold script, along with a couple different methods of contact. The back had a logo that he swore he’d seen before, but couldn’t quite place.
“Oh feel free to rip that up if my eagerness makes you uncomfortable, darling.” He said with a wave of his hand. “I just can't stand to see a handsome young man down and out.”
“Don’t think I’ll go quite that far.” Voss slipped the card into the pocket with his thin wallet. “Uh, thanks, though. ‘Preciate the offer Mr. Aarika. I’ll see what I can do for myself first.”
“Of course.” He said with a nod. “I do hope I’ll see you around regardless, Voschi. Ciao.”
“Uh, yeah bye.” Voss watched him leave, deeply fascinated by what the hell just happened. At least now he was certain about one thing. He was going to have to call Mr. Aarika at least once, just to hear him say his name again.
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Code of the Hills
Tianshan fanfic, au set in the Ozark region of the U.S.
“Where’s your partner Red?”Guan Shan reigned in his panic a second too late and Click ate it up with a shit eating grin. The pain when it came was delayed, one blessing of being too fucked to walk straight enough if he wanted to. Guan Shan spit a mouth full of blood straight into Click’s leering face. Guan Shan knew his eye would be swollen for a week. If he made it past tonight.
- Warnings: Drug use, violence, dirty cops, lots of cursing, angst -
Read on OA3 for more notes
Guan Shan lapped at the blood pouring from his nose. He couldn’t taste shit, not with his gums numb and Click telling him to take another bump.
“This is Grade A shit Red. Where’d you say you get it from ‘gain?”
Guan Shan took the offered bump – his third in the about fifteen minutes he had been with Click in this fucking dingy-ass laughable excuse for a backroom at the local watering hole. He hadn’t had this much coke in years and it was already fucking with him, just like Click wanted it to.
“Told you being a cop came with perks.” Guan Shan turned and hocked a wad of blood and snot onto the floor.
Click laughed and hit Guan Shan between the shoulder blades with an open-palmed slap that was just north of friendly. “Get this man a whiskey.”
“Did’n think you’d come back te this place Red.”
Guan Shan nodded to the women who proffered him a whiskey and took a gulp.
“Ever the polite man. Sam’s got tits from here to tomorrow and you’re on better behavior than the priest during Sunday service.” Click dropped his voice “Ne’ver believed ‘em but you don’t do yourself no favors Red.”
Guan Shan sucked at his teeth. “Saving myself for Jesus.”
Click burst out into a laughing fit. “Got’ damn Red. You haven’t changed a bit.” He played with the bag of coke idly. “So you got more of this shit?”
“More and then some.” Guan Shan nodded and pulled out a cigarette. He could feel his fingers going unsteady and his words slurring, tongue refusing to cooperate.
Click smiled and it was deadly. “Sure thing Red. Sounds like we have some stuff to talk about. Why don’t you come back with us? We’ll drive you.”
Guan Shan didn’t respond. Just lit his cigarette and let the group of good ‘ol boys half push, half pull him out of the backroom, bantering like old friends, smiling like sharks. He was manhandled out of the bar and into the dark parking lot, shoved into a truck and closed behind the thunk of American steel.
-
He Tian sat nursing his beer. A tittering group out on a girl’s night tried to grab his attention for a little while but his best sad and broken act had them off and dancing. He was alone with those words playing through his head.
They’re gonna take me to the back. They won’t do anything at the bar so just go in a little while after me. Keep your damn head down. I mean it. No flirting, no stories, no chatting up the locals. No one can remember you were there. You need to be forgettable. Just wait and blend in. They’ll take me to Click’s place.
Follow without them knowing. Shouldn’t be too hard, they’ll be fucked up and won’t be expecting you. Then it’s your call. I don’t know how many there will be. If you can get the situation under control, do it. But if not just leave me. Finding out where this guy is based is more important.
They did come out, just like Guan Shan said. He Tian shrunk as best he could into the corner. Guan Shan’s copper eyes were bloodshot and he was stumbling. The group was rowdy, shoving him with a little too much joy. A cajoling on the sharp edge of vicious. A smear of blood decorated Guan Shan’s upper lip and his pupils were pinpoints.
He Tian waited until they were through the door before slipping out. He caught sight of Guan Shan being shoved into a beater pickup with truck nuts. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to wait. It wouldn’t do Guan Shan any good to tip them off.
The drive was easy, following the road as it dipped and rose, hemmed in by the thick woods broken only by sudden bursts of sheer white limestone breaking through at odd angles, ragged and proud.
The moon was out and bright enough that He Tian could keep his headlights off and follow at a distance. They drove fast so it was easy to see they were turning when they slowed in a sudden tire-squealing crawl. The sides of their cars brushed the undergrowth creeping over everything.
So this was it. Asscrack of nowhere. Cicadas called out in an unending whine.
-
Guan Shan didn’t even try to catalogue where they were. He was too fucked up and anyways, Click was twitchy in a way that didn’t bode well for Guan Shan’s health.
They turned onto some hidden road and crawled through a winding path before the trucks stopped outside a meth den. The house was probably nice enough at one point. Dogs barked from somewhere and someone was yanking Guan Shan out of his seat. He was manhandled inside past a living room with a flickering TV into the kitchen.
“Feel like home Red?”
Guan Shan grimaced. “Don’t see why you dragged me here for.”
Click laughed. “You can stop playing dumb boy. This is some goodass shit you brought me, so I’ll thank you for that little gift. But there’s no fucking way that’s what you came out here all the way into the goddamn boones for.”
Guan Shan let one of Click’s men pull his arms behind him and zip tie them together by the wrist. He was too tired and sideways feeling. If he was going to get the shit kicked out of him anyways he might as well cooperate enough to prolong the inevitable.
“See’in as you aren’t saying nothing I’m gonna go out on a big-ass limb and say you agree?” Click said.
Guan Shan didn’t respond.
Click grunted out a laugh and kicked a metal chair over to Guan Shan. “Take a seat Red.”
With a hard stare fixed on Click, Guan Shan set his jaw and sat slowly.
“That’s a good boy. I didn’t think you’d go so easy. You’re either a complete dumbass or you have a death wish.” Click turned to the one guy who had followed them in, a big motherfucker bulked up from beers and red meat. “Tape ‘im down.”
The brute grabbed a roll of duct tape off the gritty counter and dutifully taped each leg to a leg of the chair and ran a few around Guan Shan’s chest and the chair back for good measure. The rip of duct tape and a whining light filled a tense silence.
It had been too long since he’d said something, but it was so hard to form words. The world swam and Guan Shan’s heart beat uncomfortably hard in his chest, urged to flutter faster than hummingbird wings by uppers that felt worse than one too many cups of coffee.
Click walked forward and leaned in close, the smell of stale cigarettes hitting Guan Shan’s nostrils like a mule kick to the chest.
“Where’s your partner Red?”
Guan Shan reigned in his panic a second too late and Click ate it up with a shit eating grin.
The pain when it came was delayed, one blessing of being too fucked to walk straight enough if he wanted to. Guan Shan spit a mouth full of blood straight into Click’s learing face. Guan Shan knew his eye would be swollen for a week. If he made it past tonight.
“Oh there it is. There’s our red-headed devil.” Click hacked out a deep laugh that turned into a coughing fit as he wiped the blood off his face with a black paisley handkerchief. Guan Shan glared as best he could and Click just leaned against the counter and lit a cigarette. Silence settled in.
“Bum me a square.” The words came gravely out of Guan Shan’s mouth but he was satisfied that his voice didn’t waver.
Click just laughed again, “I ain’t sitt’en here holding a smoke for you.”
“Gimme another bump then.”
Click’s expression turned sour. “You wanna be high for this Red? You’re a little shit, you know that? ‘Course you know that.” Click leaned forward. “You didn’ think we’d figure out you was with the DEA because you’re,” Click punctuated his words with a well-placed kick, “a dumbass,” another heel kick, the leather of his boots catching the ridges of Guan Shan’s ribs, “‘lil shit.” There was a special type of venom in the last word and the final kick that punctuated it was straight to Guan Shan’s gut.
Whatever was left in Guan Shan’s stomach came up onto the yellowing linoleum floor. The metal chair squealed halfway across the kitchen with the kicks.
Click looked pissed. “You can sing now or later, I don’t give a fuck Red. But we’re gonna get every little bit of information out of your dumb ass about why the fuckin’ DEA is out in the fuckin’ boones bothern’ us good folk.” Click placed his lit cigarette between his lips, nubby yellow crack teeth showing for a moment before he folded his arms and grimaced. “But first we have some other business.”
Click’s gaze flicked up to the mountain of a man that had been idly standing by like he was at a particularly boring church service. Guan Shan’s heart sank.
“Go out there and find ‘im.”
Guan Shan was knee deep into his next lie before he could think about it too hard, stemming panic from working its way in.
“Fuck off Click. I knew you’d be cautious but this is fuck’in overkill. That coke’s real, how’d you think I get it? Ask the DEA all polite-like? Fuck-off man. It’s just you ‘in me and you’re sending Brick House here out there to crash around in the dark chasing after shadows. You’ve been hitt’in the pipe too hard. Melt’n you’re brain and shit.”
Click seemed to consider Guan Shan for a moment and his tall lackey hung between leaving and staying, waiting for the verdict.
“So you admittin’ you’re with the DEA Red?” He took a deep inhale of his cigarette, the cherry lighting up with an audible crackling sound.
“Yeah. How’d you think I get this stuff? We busted couple hundred pounds of the shit I brought you tonight. And no one checks on it after it’s been logged. Everyone in that department is dipp’in into the shit we grab. Usually just for recreational purposes. But I can get you set up with a ‘lil bit here and there. Weed. Crack. Coke. Party pills. We get the big hauls ‘cause we go after the distributors. And there’s extra in it for you if you can give me some tips every once ‘n awhile.”
Guan Shan wasn’t surprised by the fist that connected with his face. He was really gonna look like shit once all this was through.
“You got’ damn motherfucker!” Click fisted his shirt, dragging him and the metal chair forward with a horrendous squeal against the floor.
“Did you just ask me to become an informant for the fucking cops? After everything I’ve done for you Red? Gave you a fuck’in home? Took you in? Then you go dissapear’n and we think you’re dead.” Click was really yelling now, his spit spraying over Guan Shan’s face. “We spilled blood over you Red. And then you show up fifteen-fucking years later looking like the day you disappeared and you have the fuckin’ balls to just think you gonna be welcome back here? You’re dead to us, Red.”
Click turned to mountain man. “Find his fucking partner. He’s lurk’in out there somewhere in the woods.”
“Wait, no, Click I’ll tell you whatever the fuck you want but if he’s out there he’s just look’in for me. He don’ know nothin and it’s not gonna help you much to have to deal with two of us. You’re gon’ have a harder time covern’ up two miss’in people. He ain’t even from around here and you know who they’ll start com’in after first.”
“Oh I know alright,” Click growled and brought his knee up hard into Guan Shan “I know ‘cause you’re here and we seen you come into town.”
Guan Shan was spluttering for breath, gasping, winded as he remembered the fucking truck stop. He Tian kissing him in the beat up Toyota and Guan Shan unwilling to push him off. Static of a station on the radio going in and out and crumpled chip bags crunching as He Tian leaned over the armrest.
Click stilled and Guan Shan lost the thread. Click had flicked open a knife large enough to skin a deer but before Guan Shan could tense the knife was cutting him free from the chair and Click was hauling Guan Shan to his feet.
The knife was back into Click’s pocket before Guan Shan could process what the hell was happening and he shoved roughly out onto the front porch. Moths and June bugs flew through the muggy air outside, circling the porch light. Guan Shan heard the cold click of Click’s gun as he cocked it and pressed the cool metal to the side of Guan Shan’s head.
“Come on out ‘for I splatter your partner’s brains all over my porch.” Click yelled the words into the darkness beyond the porch.
Guan Shan squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. Keep to the plan. Keep to the plan. Start your mother fucking car and get out of here. Get out of here.
His prayers were in vain though. He Tian emerged into the porch light silently, hands up.
–
It had been quiet, which was good. Most of the group had broken off to go party somewhere or pick up more beer and drugs, obviously bored by having their night of partying cut short. That left Click with another giant of a man inside. Easy. He just had to wait for the right moment to get Guan Shan the fuck out of there.
He Tian made a loop of the house, quietly checking if the back door was unlocked or if any windows were open. The house was locked up but again, it wouldn’t be a problem. He just had to wait for one of them to come out for a smoke or grab something from their car.
It was too risky to just break in. He Tian settled in and listened. His fingers itched for a cigarette. He could hear the muffled voice of Click talking. That was good too. Hopefully that’s all they were doing, talking.
He Tian’s first indication that things had gone south was the sound of metal squealing and Click yelling. Someone grunted and retched, a wet splattering sound punctuated by coughs and gasps. He Tian saw red. Breath. Breath. Stay calm and wait. You’ll put him in more danger if you break in now.
He Tian wanted to move, adrenaline beating a tattoo against his veins. He was shaking with it. He Tian dug his nails against his palm, trying to distract his body from the need to move. It was a beat too late when he noticed things had gone quiet.
The front door burst open and He Tian almost bolted for the assholes right then and there. Guan Shan was a bloody mess, barely able to stand up. His eyes were already swelling, purple bruises forming shapes Rorschach would be proud of. His dark shirt was wet with blood and the thin skin above his eyes was split and still flowing.
But despite how much he wanted to raise his own gun and fill these fuckers with enough lead to down an elephant, he couldn’t take the chance. Not with Click pressing the muzzle of agun into Guan Shan’s bloody temple.
“Come on out ‘for I splatter your partner’s brains all over my porch.”
He Tian walked out with his hands up. Guan Shan made a noise somewhere between anger and despair.
He had one chance at this. One chance before the mountain of a man next to Click got to He Tian, patted him down, took his gun and then hauled He Tian inside to share in a few miserable hours as a punching bag before becoming catfish food.
“There you are pretty boy.”
He Tian showed concern, fear, anxiety. Let them mask his face. Let them make Click think he was safe.
“Din’ think I would have such a fun night! Your partner here is a fuck’in dumbass. That’s it, nice and slow.”
He Tian kept eye contact and suddenly, with enough slipping to seem real, tripped. And there it was. With the sudden movement Click reacted before thinking, swinging his gun from Guan Shan to He Tian.
The rest was a blur of instinct and a prayer. He Tian rolled and pulled his gun, aimed and fired.
–
It was over fast. Guan Shan stood stock still, trying not to pull Click one way or the other. It was only after Click slumped down and the mountain man crumpled did Guan Shan realize he was splattered in blood that wasn’t his.
It didn’t matter though because He Tian was there, his hands all over Guan Shan. A quick flick of a knife and Guan Shans hands were free.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
He Tian didn’t respond, simply went about checking Guan Shan over, pulling his shirt up and grimacing at the damage splayed across Guan Shan’s body, head bowed. Guan Shan could feel He Tian’s hands shaking where they balled up in his shirt.
“Hey, hey, come on. Let’s get out of here.”
He Tian’s jaw clenched. “You said they wouldn’t do anything.”
“Well I might have under calculated a few things.”
“A few–” He Tian shuddered, cutting himself off and Guan Shan’s world swooped for a second as He Tian swung him into a bridal carry headed for the car.
“I can carry myself, hey!” He Tian had Guan Shan in the car and was around and in the driver’s seat in one swift motion. It started up on the first try and He Tian was peeling out of the gravel lot and hurtling down the dirt road.
“Whoah, whoah, He Tian, where’s the fire? Slow the fuck down, we still gotta stay low.”
He Tian slammed the car to the stop. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel.
“Is it your first time? You know, doing that.” The words came out as a raspy wheeze and Guan Shan winced. He definitely had a cracked rib.
“Yes, sweetheart, it’s my first time dragging you as a bloody pulp out from a meth house where two motherfucking shit stains were ready to carve you up for entertainment.”
Guan Shan didn’t know why he suddenly felt like fighting but he dug his heels in. “It was our only way in, and now we know Click’s not the one who’s been mixing up the fake pain pills that have been killin’ people.”
A muscle jumped in He Tian’s jaw. The truck lurched forward. “We’re going to the hospital.”
“No we fuckin’ ain’t! Get your head on straight, He Tian, we’ve got a good half hour before the rest of Click’s ‘lil possy comes back from wherever they’ve been gettin fucked up, finds two cold bodies in the dirt and finds me not there and puts two an’ two together.” Guan Shan reached for the cigarettes He Tian kept in the cup holder. “What we’re doin’ is going back to our hotel, packin’ up our shit fast as we can, gettin’ back in this truck and driving as far away from this god forsaken place as we can.”
He Tian didn’t respond. Muggy summer air whipped around them through the open windows.
They rolled into town and Guan Shan relaxed when He Tian turned towards the motel.
“Stay here.” He Tian was out of the truck and headed into the motel before Guan Shan could say anything. He slumped into the seat and lit another cigarette.
Back on the road, orange street lights blurred by as He Tian pushed 100 down the highway. Guan Shan was crashing hard, his whole body ached and he knew tomorrow would be worse. He lit another cigarette, too tired to do anything else, too wired to sleep.
“You’re quitting this case.” He Tian’s voice barely rose above the hum of the car hurtling down the highway.
“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout this right now.”
“They could of killed you.”
“Yeah, and they coulda killed you too. I told you this isn’t like the city. The hills have their own code and these people live by it. Ain’t anyone coming to help hill folk.”
He Tian snagged the pack of cigarettes, depositing them out of reach in his car door. “So you’ve got to, is that it?”
Guan Shan grunted. “I don’t know He Tian. I just know people are dying and I have connections here and I’m gonna use them so we can stop the son of a bitch who’s been poisoning people.”
The cover of night slipped from around them, the first hints of dawn lightening the sky.
Guan Shan was somewhere between waking and fever dreams when He Tian spoke again.
“So what’s our next move.”
Guan Shan cracked his left eye open, the right one was too swollen to see out of.
“You’re sticking along with this thing? You ‘don seem like you like it much.”
He Tian snorted as though it was obvious. “I just killed two men, Guan Shan, I should think it’s obvious that I’m in this thing.”
Guan Shan closed his eye and hummed. “We’re headed in deep then, to a place where the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Where we’ll be alone. You ready for that?”
“Lead the way Red.”
-
I’d love to hear your thoughts, comments, questions- tell me what you think!
#19 days#19 days fanfic#dark themes#tianshan#he tian#mo guan shan#depictions of violence#midwestern gothic#set some time before cell phones#Code of the Hills#egregious use of apostrophes#the accent is a hick hill people twang#not a southern accent
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Fallout 4 Companions react to being given a unique weapon that sole made for them
(IHSJS I suck but finally here it is! <3333) ( left out Codsie and dogmeat as they cannot hold guns (well in game at least, I could just imagine the chaos if they had one dhjhajfjjdh)
With not much to do in the wasteland at this very moment, the companions were all at their respective places, MacCready patrolled Sanctuary along with Strong, Curie was down in her own science space Sole had made for her at the Sanctuary Hot Springs (its a mod and omg is it beautiful and worth it for extra junk) X6 was in Covenant clearing out some stuff to make way for sole to build new things and bring in settlers and Hancock was back in Good Neighbour doing his mayoral duties. Cait was at the NEW combat zone that Sole had gotten fixed up, now it is a pretty little hang out spot where people can practice their combat skills and take on people in friendly duels. Piper was at Publick Occurrences and Danse had also taken up shelter in Diamond City at Home Plate, Nick Valentine was browsing through files in his office. Last that leaves Preston who was held up at the castle trying to do repairs...And lets just say all them being busy...Left Deacon to his own devices...
Sighing softly with a bag full of guns and ammo, Sole stands and begins their journey to each and everyone of their beloved companions dogmeat happily walking behind them
MacCready:
Seeing Sole walk up to him as he squinted his eyes down into the old road of Sanctuary he smiles softly, lowering his gun he walks towards them as well Sole smiles at him and pulls a bag from off their shoulders ‘’here, this is for you, I mean, you don't have to use it...But I hope you like it’’ He raises an eyebrow at sole before looking down into their hands, it was a sniper that he had never seen before in all his days, even when running with the gunners he had never come across something so...Personal. ‘’I made it’’ That answered his question, he smiles and slowly places his old gun onto his back and grasps soles gift firmly ‘’Wow...Sole, I don't know what to sa-’’ ‘’Don't say anything, its a token of appreciation!’’ Sole was already running off somewhere, as always. Mac starts loading up the gun shaking his head endearingly ‘’Thanks Sole, you’re welcome RJ’’ he chuckles out trying to impersonate Soles voice
Strong:
Strong was stomping his feet around holding an old bat in his big green shrek hands, he was patrolling the outside of Sanctuary, his usual rounds. there was gates,traps and defences everywhere, but sole had a lot of enemies so he couldn't take the chance. Soles legs wobbled softly as his foot steps shook the earth slightly, Strongs ears perk up and he turns sharply to sole and stomps towards them, dogmeat whimpers slightly and decides to just lay down ‘’Master! Strong has killed so many mutt dogs!’’ Dogmeat would have coughed awkwardly if he could ‘’That's...Really great Strong!, but here I have something to give to you’’ Sole slowly and with very small struggle pulls out a machine gun, but not just any machine gun. It made strongs eyes twinkle and his muscles tense up it was glorious, he immediately grabs it from soles hands and steadies it ‘’Strong put this to good use, getting rid of dogs and anyone who dare try to get into Sanctuary’’ Sole sighs contently and nods at Dogmeat to finally stand ‘’Ill see you later Strong!’’ and they were off again
Curie:
Curie was very much in her own world, she didn't even hear sole and dogmeat come in, she didn't even notice them at all until sole came right up behind her and asked what she was up to, with a short squeal and a heavy breath Curie softly apologises and asks Sole what they needed ‘’Don't sweat it Curie I should have...Knocked?...Well anyway here! I wanted you to have this’’ it was a Syringer Rifle? Curie was confused at first as it looked very unique ‘’Ah yes I assume you made this?’’ Curie asks in wonderment studying the rifle and the different types of ammo sole had given her ‘’I did, I had you in mind’’ This made Curie blush, a stutter starting to form ‘’Oh my...Thank you, I will always put it to good use, but not too much use! ...yes’’ Sole smiled softly and gave her a small wave as they made their way out, curie sighed deeply in embarrassment but then smiled warmly to herself
X6:
It was quite a walk to Covenant, but it wasn’t too bad for Sole and Dogmeat. They have walked much greater and harsher lengths after all, but as they finally reached the gates Sole couldn’t help but to sigh out a ‘’Thank god’’, walking into Covenant Sole could see that Deezer was still selling lemonade, thanks to Curie it was now....Well...Better and that X6 was brooding off to the side of a building, his way of ‘passing time’ he actually notices Sole first and walks up to them ‘’Sir/Ma’am good to see you’re well, what brings you here today are the settlers coming ahead of time?’’ the same formal tone as always struck sole with a small laugh ‘’No X6 I actually have something to give you’’ x6 watches through dark glasses as sole reaches into their bag and pulls out a very peculiar energy weapon ‘’I made it for you, thought it could do you well’’ X6 was very flattered Sole thought of him ‘’You didn’t need to strain yourself making this’’ Sole shakes their head ‘’I didn’t its fine, I wanted you to have something’’ X6 takes it slowly from their hands and nods ‘’Thank you sir/ma’am’’ even though it was quite a stern thank you Sole could tell he did appreciate it and smiled at him before heading off
Hancock:
‘‘Alright Dogmeat, we’ve made it to Good Neighbour...Tell me why I decided to do all this today?’‘ Dogmeat woofs back at sole and they sigh softly in agreement ‘‘You’re right’‘ Sole walks all the way up to the top of the Old State House and searches around for Hancock ‘‘He must be on the balcony’‘ Sole opens the doors and there he is, Hancock looks over his shoulder and gives Sole a smile ‘‘There ya are, decided to visit this ol’ ghoul how nice’‘ Sole smiles back at him ‘‘Actually I come bearing gifts’‘ Hancock raises an eyebrow and smirks slightly ‘‘Oh didya? lets take a look see then’‘ Sole pulls out what seemed to be a double barrel shotgun but it looked a bit different than others Hancock had seen ‘‘This is for me, you shouldn't have’‘ hancock takes it in his hands and shines it softly ‘‘To show my appreciation’‘ Hancock chuckles at Soles words ‘‘Ill treasure it, truly. Thanks Sole’‘ ‘‘No problem Hancock, ill see you later’‘ and then Sole treks off again, dogmeats tail wagging happily. Hancock takes a drag off his cigarette and smiles into the sky
Cait:
Cait huffed and panted heavily as she boxed a punching bag, she was happy to be active again after ...All that mess. she felt like she owed Sole the world but sole just kept giving her new things to add to the bill one day Cait would pay them back but for now she was content back in the bettered combat zone, Cait hears a particular bark and knew Sole was there as soon as she heard it, she turns and sees dogmeat woofing happily and sole walking towards her with...quite a big bag ‘’Cait!, I see you’ve gotten a workout in huh?’’ Sole said with pointed eyes, Cait snorted roughly ‘’yeah you got that right these guys don't know what they’re in for’’ Sole smiles and shakes their head digging into their bag, Cait was confused at first until Sole pulls out what Cait thinks is some kind of powerfist ‘’Whats that?’’ Sole holds it out towards Cait and smiles ‘’THAT is for you’’ Cait was shocked, as always at Soles kindness ‘’I cant- I cant accept this you’ve already don-’’ Sole shoves it towards Cait a bit more ‘’I made it for you Cait, think of it as...A Christmas present’’ Cait snorted at the phrase but slowly took it and tried it on ‘’See! looks great on you’’ Cait smiles at Sole a bit sadly ‘’Thank you...Really Sole’’ Sole pats her on the shoulder and chucks up a thumbs up as they walked away ‘’Save me a fight alright!’’
Piper:
‘‘I think my legs are gonna give out soon, should we rest up after seeing Piper what do you think boy?’‘ Dogmeat barks in agreement as Sole opened the door to the Publick ‘‘Blue! its so good too see you!’’ Piper hugged sole gently and then pulled away with a smile ‘’wow you been lugging that bag around all day?!’‘ Sole laughed softly and sighed, a bit flustered ‘‘Yeah I guess so, but its been worth it honestly, hey I got you something I hope you like it P’‘ Sole digs their arm into the bag and starts searching around, after a while they pull out a small pistol, but it wasn't just any pistol, actually it wasn’t quite like anything Piper had seen for me ‘‘Oh Blue...You didn't have to do this’‘ Piper was almost teary eyed, it probably took sole quite a while to do this ‘‘Its alright, I wanted you to have something special from me’‘ Piper and Sole smile at each other brightly and Sole goes to open the door ‘‘Thank you Blue’‘ ‘‘No problem P’’
Danse:
Sole and Dogmeat enter Homeplate and immediately flop onto the couch, Sole moans out at the comfort her sore limbs felt and something clanks loudly alerting dogmeat causing him to jump off Sole on the couch and onto the ground to take a fighting stance, Danse slowly peeks his head out from the corner and sighs once he realises its sole, Sole slowly turns their head and smiles at Danse ‘’Heyyyyyy’’ Sole groans out slowly stretching out their body Danse sighs and slowly puts a palm to their back and then another, cracking their back for them ‘’god....Thank you, I’ve been walking all day with basically no rest, but god is it worth it’’ Danse raises an eyebrow at them and they slowly sit up and pat the spot next to them excitedly Danse takes a seat beside them as they ruffle through a bag and pull something out ‘’You remember the day we met’’ Danse was confused by the question but still decided to answer ‘’of course I do why do you ask?’’ Sole turned to smile at him and put something in his lap ‘’well that day you had given me a gun of your own, and now today, I’m giving you something I made for you personally’’ Danse picks up the unique energy weapon and then looks at Sole in disbelief, their eyes were big and full of energy Danse smiles warmly at them then down at the gun ‘’Thank you...’’ Sole pats him on the back and slowly stands, stretching further ‘’You deserve it’’ Sole chucks him a small smile and wave as they make their way out ‘’Outstanding’’
Nick Valentine:
‘‘OH NICKYYYY’‘ Nick jumps up slightly at the sound of Soles voice and sits up in his chair ‘‘God Sole, you gotta scare the old bot huh?’‘ Sole laughed softly and placed a bag on his desk taking a seat on the edge of it ‘‘What’s this? you bring more wild animals in here...Wait don’t tell me’‘ Nick started looking around for any sign of Deacon and Sole laughs ‘‘No no! I came with gifts!’‘ Nick slowly relaxed and sat back in his chair ‘‘Ah so you’re the common day Santa Claus’‘ Sole nods at his statement and pulls out a revolver pistol of some kind ‘‘i made it myself for you, blood sweat tears and-’‘ ‘‘You had me at blood Kid/doll’‘ Sole holds back a chuckle and slowly stands ‘‘what do ya think?’‘ Nick turns back to sole and smiles ‘‘I love it, you really went all out didn’t you?’‘ Sole nods triumphantly ‘‘Yes i did!...Oh and if you see Deacon anywhere...Don’t tell him I’m looking for him’‘ Nick snorts out ‘‘You got it’‘
Preston:
Sole sighed out softly it was getting real dark now ‘’I guess Deacon will have to wait till tomorrow, lets bunk up at the castle buddy’’ Dogmeat woofs and trots off to Soles bedroom there already Sole scans through everyone and their eyes finally land on the familiar hat of Preston Garvey sole with all their willpower made it over to him, softly poking his shoulder, preston turns slowly and then smiles at Sole ‘’sole, its good to see you! actually there’s a settl-’’ Sole places a finger to his lips ‘’No no...No, Preston I will deal with it I promise but can it wait until tomorrow? I’ve had the LONGEST day and I have something to give you’’ Preston blinked rapidly and then nodded Sole sighed contently and slowly pulled out a laser musket ‘’Sole this is...Quite spectacular’’ Preston was awestruck ‘’I’m glad you think so...Because its for you’’ Preston was quite shocked by soles words ‘’What? me? why?’’ Sole laughed softly and brought him into a small hug ‘’Because I care about you, and I wanted to do something special for you’’ Prestons heart swelled at their words and he grasped the gun firmly ‘’Thanks, General’’ sole giggled tiredly and made their way to their room
Deacon:
It was around 3 am when Sole woke up to soft footsteps, but ignored them right after checking their pipboy, suddenly they felt eyes on them and opened their eyes to reveal a creepy bald man wearing a red sparkly dress Sole screamed out and jumped up in bed, knocking their heads together they both yelp in pain and Sole runs to turn the lights on and points a gun at the man ‘’Sole!’’ the familiar voice helped them realise it was deacon and they grumbled tiredly ‘’Deacon what were you doing watching me sleep!...and why the tutu...WAIT have you been following me all day! I knew I felt eyes on me’’ Sole rubbed their temples as Deacon slowly got onto his knees and held out his hands, doing a grabby action at them Sole sighed deeply and bit their lip, walking over to their bag they slowly pulled out Deacons gift and laid it in his hands, he smiles widely as he pulls his hands down to look at it his eyes sparkled behind his sunglasses, it was a pistol with a silencer at the end like the deliverer ‘’Sole...You shouldn’t have’’ Deacon fake cries out and hugs onto Soles leg Sole cuts their eyes to Dogmeat and rolls them with a smile down at Deacon. with a sore body and a pulled muscle in their legs they sigh softly
‘‘It was worth it’‘
(finally finished it!!! I hope yall like it sjdihsaj <3333!!)
#fallout 4#fo4#f4#deacon#paladin danse#preston garvey#dogmeat#piper wright#hancock#maccready#strong#cait#X6-88#nick valentine#curie#curie fallout#hancock fallout#piper fallout#deacon fallout#fallout#bethesda#fallout companions#fallout 4 companions
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hello , hello ! first of all , i’m super excited to be here even if i’m like 10 hrs LATE ( gmt timezone things ) i’m noe , a gay they / them at the age of 19 , and this privileged lil disappointment of a jock boy is gonna be filling the position of kong_01 . despite the rumours ? yuanjun’s actually not nearly as bad as some of the people he’ll be meeting here >:) but you’ll get to know more about that below ! if you’d like to plot just light up that HEART , or add me on disc*rd which i’ll give out in im’s , where i’m infinitely faster . if i’m not gaming .
no tw’s under the cut .
* backstory.
> many people know of yuanjun, but few people truly know him. he's the famous kong families’ son, heir to the kong legacy, now forward position for south korea men’s national hockey team - which brought forth a ton of international fame from back home and amongst hockey lovers worldwide. while his talent is undeniable, he is long overshadowed by his families’ accomplishments, forever reminded that he’d never be the perfect son they’d hoped for, and no one ever lets him forget it.
> being the child of business tycoons who’s art business seemed to never be on the decline, tended to lend itself to an unconventional, pretty lonely childhood.
> although jun no longer wants to dabble in the stupid shit he probably did as a teen, and escape from their home in a childish fit of rage and make the lives of the various nannies that tended to him while his parents were off being great hell, he still wonders sometimes whether this profession is what he would’ve wanted if he’d just not wanted to spite his parents. he loves hockey - that fact is undeniable. he thanks the nanny who took him there once out of necessity to stop his whining, and he fell in love with it almost instantly. but he also questions whether he gravitated to it because it was something he could throw himself into wholeheartedly to fill a void.
> he's very open to different types of people, and after being scouted at 19 and having a massive shift both in culture and identity as he then begun to travel worldwide, he’s a tiny bit more wordly now than he was back then. he's much more concerned about who you are underneath than superficial appearances, which means developing relationships are few and far between, because a lot of people do approach him because of his fame/fortune. he's unjudgemental to the point where his friends worry about his naivety and how easily he trusts people, but he's absolutely not dumb, just very well versed on telling good people from the bad.
> jun may even come across as naïve, but he's very aware of that perception is nearly important as reality. he's not extroverted in a way that demands conversation, but he knows how to talk to anyone from any background even if its just to maintain pleasantries. after competing in various competitions and versing players from canada to japan, he's become much more sharp and ambitious, a guy who very rarely lets distractions take their course. perhaps it’s with this that his family loathe his choices all the more, with his appetite, he was born with the skills required to run a business - pity he never took to anything of the creative sort.
> working in a fast, stressful, highly coveted job such as pro-sports is a full time job and then some; jun doesn't spend much time not working on it. outside of his schedule, he likes bettering his stamina at the gym and eating healthy. he likes being surrounded by authentic people or nobody at all. he’s not one for trying new things and having new experiences due to time management, tending to stick to a schedule.
> he gets a lot of bad press though, which is beginning to weigh a little heavy on him. doubly now the murder has people talking. from being accused of performance-enhancing pills, various personality scandals, to being linked with ‘dating’ (see: ruining the image of) idols and chaebol’s alike. right now, he’s currently battling a lot of unwanted publicity because of a misunderstood interaction online against a wealthy sweetheart that went sour.
> while jun might be generally unsympathetic and analytical when it comes to developing relationships with people that’ll last long-term, he's a bleeding heart when it comes to kids who may have experienced the same lonely upbringing as he did, without the financial gains. right now he spends sunday’s teaching a bunch of local foster home kids how to skate, and is trying to fund a couple of sports scholarships for those who show promise under a fake name, just generally being a good ‘ole guy.
> his family do not approve of his job, ofc. in fact neither of his parents have ever attended any of his matches to this day, and are only on semi-decent terms with him because jun begrudgingly is still tied by name to the business and shows his face at events for all of 30 minutes until he physically can no longer maintain pleasantries. his celebrity image perhaps is one thing they can manipulate, and even then, jun could get into scandals galore and still be doing his job. good press, bad press, it has the kong’s family name at the forefront of peoples’ minds, which always brings forth revenue.
> pros: could be a lot worse considering his upbringing, collected, and level-headed most of the time. wicked good at sports, and keeps a cool head in a tough situation. ambitious, curious, a little reckless. eager to prove himself, rich? and very endeared to people/places he finds fascinating. which are many. knows where the good, authentic chinese cuisine is. hardworking and very interested in the idea of Progress.
> cons: the most private person alive, will not divulge any palatable information about himself or his feelings. devil's advocate always. will put himself and others at an arm’s length the second he feels (disgusted noises) e-emotions (love, namely). gets bored easily. paranoid, leads with the head more than the heart. friends > > > family. a little self-involved, never fucking sleeps - will be that neighbour you can hear padding around above your apartment at 3.05 am like it’s mid-day, aaaaand Loves Winning Above All Else
* personality & relationships.
> like many others, jun has his fair share of surface-level friends. he’s quick to be interested in people, to get to know them better, but it's difficult for him to get closer than that after a childhood of being picked up and dropped by those who looked over him - which kinda has left him with abandonment issues.
> he’s a curator of neat things that aren’t too overtly complex, and that includes friendships. so if you have something unusual about you, whether it's a talent or a way of thinking, he would be inclined to get to know you better. also, he has a lot of leverage with his job. being friends with a sports star slash million dollar trust fund baby who can get you free shit never hurts, just don’t befriend him for the perks, yanno?
> jun is very dedicated to his vision of things, and can sometimes be very obstinate in the way he a) wants them to be done b) doesn't accept other options, think steve jobs. he's very mercurial and can be nice one minute but isn't afraid to switch to hardass boss to get things done and did.
> he is insanely competitive and his strive is drawn out by always wanting to be on top. truly first child material. that's the kind of guy he is, with standards that do not reflect his passive side too well, which sometimes can get him into some “personality” scandals. he is driven, motivated, always looking for ways to be winning.
> i'm sure someone is bound to hate him, he’s probably got a few accounts online dedicated to a steady stream of shit-talking, given his cutthroat status or holding many hockey cups.
> jun doesn’t think too much about his sexuality - he'd probably best be labelled as pan, but leans towards those who identify as women? because of his current placement in a workspace, and with a cultural identity, that both don’t often lend themselves to lgbtq+ rights, i doubt he’d ever make that public.
> he works amongst some of the fittest people in the world, he knows how to appreciate beautiful bodies, but he's not about to discriminate. he's tragically a committaphobe and isn't interested in anything long-term right now, although i think it'd be funny if someone tried. he's very open for flings and one-night stands and even a friends with benefits sort of set up.
* wc’s.
> bring me his baby bro and sis. i command u. i have many thoughts
> somebody who maybe gets in on his foster-kid situation? idk maybe they have a perception of jun being what he is in the articles they read of him, but they see him and are like <3_<3 he actually real Nice huh. i see this being romantic but it could bloom a really nice, wholesome friendship too.
> enemies. not gonna lie, he doesn’t vibe with rich kids w / a stick up their ass, especially since a lot of the people he works with aren’t from exorbitant families. people who loathe him for declining to take over his families’ business? like the boy can’t even name more than 3 artists off of the top of his head?
> fwb except neither of them know what “just friends” mean.
> i would love if jun had a confidante. a best friend, a partner in crime, a total bromance 'cause i can never get enough of those. whatever label you ‘wanna put on it. wiping up each other’s messes. maybe a Betrayal in the works
> again, gonna be a wc, but i would love a “rival” of jun's on a similar level (or bigger) that’s entirely fabricated based off of trashy articles or a misunderstood interaction online. bonus points if they’re an absolute sweetheart, well loved by most people, and generally the antithesis of jun with his multiple drug/personality rumours, which in contrast, make him seem like the bad guy.
> party buddy. this guy hasn’t touched alcohol/cigarettes/any other stimulants since he was underage and wanted to rebel. the word “relax” does not exist in his vocabulary. Help
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Drifting
Characters: Dean x reader, Sam x reader, Dean , Sam , original characters, you
Summary: Bar fights are bad news and these new guys in town seem dangerous but you are looking for any way out.
Word Count: 1089
Trigger Warning: Fighting in line with the show, little tiny bit of smuttiness
part two
It was anything but your typical Friday night down at Gary’s, yes that Gary’s, and you were seconds away from calling the cops. Working in a town in which every establishment is named after the person who opened it was more than boring it was a nightmare. Your fingers hovered over the button for the number 9 and your eyes were narrowed on the two men that had drifted in from somewhere out of town. The scene at the pool table was growing more and more tense as all of the local men gathered behind Ricky, backing him up, and you just watched. Ricky owned a construction business in town named, oh, well, you could probably imagine and he loved two things in the world drinking cheap beer and playing pool. His wife knew this and so did his kids. Waiting for someone to make the first move. Finally, it happened the stranger picked up the pool stick from the edge of the table and held it in his arm like some sort of weapon.
“Now just what exactly do you think you're going to do with that,” Ricky, the type of local that gave all other locals a bad name, said.
“Nothing,” the shorter of the two strangers said, “We won this game fair and square we’re just going to take our money and go.”
“Fair!” Ricky’s eyes bulged, “You two have been scamming every guy in this joint all night long and me and my boys here,” he gestured behind him to the group of men about 5 deep, "are going to teach you not to fuck with country folk."
You wanted to puke as Ricky said it, you hated the folk here and you wanted to be anywhere else in this moment than brokering some bar fight.
It looked as though everyone might have just parted ways if not for the fact that when both of the strange men went to turn their back Ricky just had to mutter something about them being freaks and suddenly the fists were flying.
The shorter man dropped the pool stick he was holding to launch one good right hook to Ricky’s face and after that, the taller man started to work on holding off the other locals as well as he could on his own. The only thing you knew they both had going for them is that they were substantially soberer and so the hits they kept throwing were landing perfectly. If you didn’t know better you would have thought both of them were trained fighters.
At first, you were going to just call the police and let them handle it, but as you watched the way the fighting was going by the time any local jo police officer was able to come by the place was going to be trashed and good ol’ Gary would probably try and take it out of your meager paycheck.
“Hey, Asshat!” You screamed at the blond short-haired man, “get out of here before I call the cops!”
The green eyes that met yours at that moment looked like emeralds even more so with the ruby red drip of blood coming out of a cut on his right eyebrow.
“Hey,” he said raising his eyebrow at you seductively “calm down sweetheart, we were just leaving.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” you said, “my name is y/n and honestly I have to deal with this disaster now because of you.”
The taller man with the chestnut hair and matching hazel eyes looked rather defeated at your arrival and the men who had threatened their money and their good time were all rather beat up and cowering in various corners of the dingy bar.
“I’m really sorry,” he said, “I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean.”
“Sorry,” Dean muttered.
“Whatever,” you did your absolute best eye roll and started to right the first upside chair nearest to your foot.
“We would love to help you pick up,” Sam said. Picking up one of the ashtrays that had spilled little crushed up cigarette butts to the floor.
You knew things were pretty much over now that Ricky had run with his tail between his legs out into the night, so you figured the least the two handsome men could do would be to help you clean up.
It wasn’t long before the three of you were the only ones left in the entire place. Everything that had been uprooted had been set right and so the group of you had decided to have a couple of closing time drinks. You choose Budweiser for the simple fact it was the least likely thing for Gary to notice was missing. It was almost too bright when you stepped outside, the glow of the moon was so much so that the light had you looking out into the empty parking lot. Not a single car remained except for yours and the impala that Dean and Sam had told you about.
You could tell you were a little buzzed because you thought about the fact that both of those boys had probably bedded multiple girls in the backseat of that sleek black impala and a little jolt inside of you had you wondering if maybe you should try and become one of those girls. Both men were hauntingly handsome with their sharp jaws and strong shoulders.
“Are you alright y/n?” Sam asked wrapping an arm around you.
“Yeah totally.” You said although you weren’t sure the tone that came out indicated the truth of your words.
“Be careful out their y/n,” Dean said.
His eyes which you knew could be so bright seemed to lose a little of that shine as he said the words and you noticed how his easy demeanor was replaced by a furrowed brow.
You stood there in the parking lot with two strange men alone. Many thoughts raced through your head. Some were about the fact that this was probably dangerous and stupid but another part felt exhilarated and free. You were being your own person and waiting to see what the consequences would be. You wondered what you should say or do to keep the strange but exciting emotions flowing. Instead of doing anything you just froze feeling Sam holding an arm around you his breathing rising and falling against you. You could smell something like gunpowder on him it was a dangerous scent and you liked it.
“Can I come with you?” You asked.
Dean cracked a smile and said, “yes.”
#dean winchester#dean x reader#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester#sam x reader#dean x you#sam x you#reader insert#supernatural#My writing
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