#I love this au so I'm very happy to write more believe me
Note
Ahhhh second first date! Second first date! Of course i need to know how it goes!!
"And the server was definitely super jealous of me."
Thena laughed again. That was all she'd been doing since they left the house, she was quite sure. Since Gil 'picked her up', that was to say.
It was very sweet. He had showed up at her guest room door, dressed up and with a charming smile, even making an attempt to look nervous. He asked if she was ready, offered his arm; he was the perfect gentleman for their first date.
Her second chance.
Of course she had to know more about their first-first date. And Gil was happy to elucidate her once she insisted enough that telling her that much would not cause her brain to catch fire (as the doctor seemed to have implied in some way).
"But it was a nice dinner, then I walked you back to where you were staying at the end of the beach," he recounted, his eyes completely starry. "I had never gotten to actually have a romantic walk on the beach, before. Total bucket list stuff."
"It sounds lovely," she remarked mildly, without much choice with no memory of it for herself.
"The moon was out and everything, and it looked really pretty with your hair and your white dress, and the shawl thing-y you had on over it." Gil gestured vaguely to simulate the flowing garment she had worn over her bare shoulders. It certainly painted a picture, and she was quite sure she knew what he was referring to, having glimpsed a long white shawl in their closet.
She tried not to laugh too hard, mindful of the gentle atmosphere of the bakery. The tables were really just for people waiting for orders. They didn't have a fancy coffee machine, or an official barista. But Gil did bring out cups of real, boiled hot cocoa from the back--a secret only for their own, of course. They were waiting on their fresh baked pastries to come out and cool.
"I was so distracted by you that I didn't even realise when we were back at your doorstep," he sighed, but his comedic tone faded. He looked at her more softly, leaning his cheek against his hand. "I told you flat out that I was having such a good time I wished you were staying further away."
Thena attempted to laugh into her mug, this time.
"You laughed at it then, too." He sounded more wistful now. "But I told you I was serious and asked if I could see you again. I don't know why you were so surprised."
Probably because she had never been one to be asked out by someone like him. Men, sure, but not very sweet, very funny, very honest gentlemen like Gil. Just...men. She wasn't approachable enough for someone as sweet and charming as Gil.
She still thought that, to a degree.
"But you agreed, and I asked if I could kiss you too," he at least smiled at this part of the story, although his longing for the past remained. "You said I didn't have to ask, which wasn't a yes, but I guessed I was supposed to read between the lines."
Again, the Thena in the story and Thena herself in the present were different people. But she felt her stomach clench faintly at the idea.
"I did kiss you," Gil sighed, returning to his lighter, more jovial tone. "And it totally blew my mind. I mean if I wasn't in love with you already, that would'a done it."
"Gil," she admonished lightly, partly laughing and partly sheepish at the description of this passionate kiss she couldn't remember at all.
"What?" he chuckled before taking a sip of his own hot chocolate. "You wanted to know. And that date changed the rest of my life, sweetheart."
She liked it when he called her that. She nodded, looking down at her mug. "I suppose I did. It's a nice story."
"Yeah," Gil concluded, although his sigh felt a little heavier.
She still didn't have any memories of her own to contribute. But she attempted to jump over that wave of guilt, trying to put a smile back on his handsome face. "What was our second date like?"
He clearly knew what she was trying to do, but he kept quiet about it at least. He pulled himself up in his seat and started his next story. "Well, we were still on vacation. I asked a little more about you, and you at least told me you were an artist, and you were there on leave because you found teaching wasn't really your thing."
Thena winced faintly. She was sure that was an understatement. She did have memories of teaching before moving to their current residence, and none of them made her glad to have them instead of memories of Gil.
"I told you that I had been a boxer in college, and that I was just working some boring office job and also wanted," he paused to shrug and make a face, "a change of scenery."
They were both in the midst of becoming different people when they met. How fascinating, Thena mused. Although she was quite sure Gil had always been sweet and charming and funny. Just a feeling.
"It was actually you, on that date, who asked what I liked to do for fun," he admitted much more quietly. He looked down at the table, picking at a chip in the lacquer. "I told you I liked baking and you said I could try working part time in it, just to see if I liked it enough to make it my job."
"It sounds like something I would suggest," she agreed. It was hard to imagine the man she knew now doing anything else, really. Although it was almost funny to imagine him stuffing those muscles of his into a regular office suit.
"I said I'd give it a try," he chuckled, reaching for her hand. She gave it reflexively, sense memory knowing Gil much better than her own mind. He kissed her knuckle. "And now I have the best job in the world."
She smiled down at their adjoined hands as well, feeling as if the weight of the world were on top of them. "The date, Gil?"
"Right, right," he chuckled, allowing her to move the story away from the more emotional of the topics. "Well, you suggested that, and I asked about your art some more. And since the restaurant looked kind of full, and I didn't think that was your scene, I asked if you wanted to walk along the boardwalk a little first."
"We walked by a bakery there, and you asked me what everything was, since I was 'the expert' and all."
That also sounded like something she would say; Thena attempted not to roll her eyes at herself.
"I pointed out the regular stuff," he shrugged and even looked at the pastry cases in front of them in the moment. "Croissants, cupcakes, they had some tarts. You asked about one in particular."
Thena tilted her head as he paused, but she leaned back as he did, having been so sucked into the story that she didn't even notice Ajak coming over with two small plates.
"Thanks," Gil smiled at the petite woman, obviously familiar with her.
"Thank you," Thena added, keeping her eyes on the woman who only smiled and waved in response. Ajak knew her, Thena was aware, but Gil had been determined that they could meet formally when Thena felt more ready to reintroduce those parts of their life to herself.
"This is called a petit four, just a small cake," he chuckled, turning his own plate so she could admire the little dessert from all sides. "It's pretty old school, but you asked me about it when I pointed it out to you. I bought one so you could sample it, even though you told me not to."
Thena eyed the little dessert. It seemed to be vanilla, small and glazed completely white. There was something on the top of it.
"I add just a little sea salt to mine. Call it a secret ingredient."
It was just a hint of salt, but it sank into the sweetness immediately. Just like on that day five years ago, she had tasted the saltiness of the ocean air around them as she took a bite. She could remember the wind on her skin, and how warm Gil's hand was in contrast. The smell of the little shop and the breeze around them, and Gil's cologne wafting gently over to her.
Thena whipped her head up at him. He blinked at her sudden movement but didn't say anything. He was trying to read the expression on her face.
She didn't have any other memories of it. Just that one moment had jumped out at her as she had tasted that same taste--perhaps an improvement upon it. She could remember Gil's smile as she had told him that she liked it.
"You promised."
"Hm?"
She blinked, trying not to cry over a silly little cake. "You promised you would make me one sometime. I told you I expected it to be better, since you were indeed, 'the expert'."
Gil teared up immediately. Of course he did, the gentle hearted giant. "Y-You-"
She looked down at her cake again, the pressure immediately mounting. "It's just that one moment. I can't remember past that. But-"
Thena startled as he launched from his seat across the tiny cafe table from her. He caught her lips at a funny angle, but they both tasted like chocolate and vanilla and sea salt. Her eyes fluttered.
"Sorry," he chuckled, offering a sheepish grin as he seated himself, ignoring the worried glances of other bakery patrons. "Couldn't help myself."
"Hm," she pursed her lips faintly, and he returned to his cake, unable to keep himself from staring at her. She dabbed at her lips, resisting the urge to fan herself. She still had her coat on, but it felt far too hot now in their little corner by the window. "Whatever happened to asking?"
"You told me I didn't have to ask."
#Thenamesh Vow AU#thank you so much sweetheart!#I love this au so I'm very happy to write more believe me#so in the movie she actually never regains any memories at all#which I did find interesting#but I think Thena and Gil have been through enough#taste really can unlock a deluge of memories and sensations#and now that they've made this progress#Gil is gonna be obsessed with making her stuff they've had together#Thena tells him not to get too ahead of himself#she's worried about disappointing him if she doesn't remember more#but he's just so overcome with happiness#people in the bakery look at him like dude calm down#and he's like#sorry can't a man kiss his WIFE in a moment of passion?#Thena drags him back into his seat because he's embarrassing her#Ajak is just behind the counter like ah young love#Now Gil wants to repeat all their dates#in a sense of the word#They literally get home and have brunch right after this but still#Thena texts Kari like wow had a wonderful first date#Makkari: WITH WHO#Thena: my husband obviously
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Alright, for all the Kurt Wagner fans out there, especially those who write fanfics, short list of things he could say in German [because I see a lot of wrong things], especially nicknames. If you're interested I wrote a bit about the possesive pronouns in German in this post. You might want to check it out, in case you get confused from the list below.
If you use things with "Mein", "Meine" or "Meiner" remember that it's not capitalised in the middle of the sentence. Do it like that for example:
" You are right, meine Liebe."
Schatz ~ Treasure
Mein Schatz ~ My treasure
Liebling ~ Darling
Liebchen ~ Sweetling [I personally never have heard someone say that, since it's a bit older, but I know he used in the comics, so I won't complain]
Meine Liebe ~ my dear [when the person he's adressing is feminine]
Mein Lieber ~ my dear [when the person he's adressing is masculine]
Ich liebe dich ~ I love you [NOT 'Ich liebe Sie' that's formal]
Entschuldigung/ 'Tschuldigung ~ Sorry
Es tut mir Leid. ~ I'm sorry.
Meine Freunde ~ My friends
Mein Freund ~ my friend [male]
Meine Freundin ~ my friend [female
[Be careful with those one, because in German we don't really have a way to say 'girlfriend' or 'boyfriend'. We usually just use the words for friend and sometimes add a 'fester/feste' in front of it, but just so you know]
Mein Gott ~ My god [remember that 'Gott' is capitalised]
Mein Engel ~ My angel
In General, please don't just translate things word by word. I've talked about in the post linked above, but it doesn't work like this. And while words such as "Honey" may be nicknames in English, they are not in German.
If you have questions or things you'd like me to add, just tell me, I am always open to suggestions :)
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MORE:
Ich vermisse dich ~ I mss you. // Ich habe dich vermisst ~ I missed you
Du siehst gut aus ~ You look good.
Du bist wunderschön. ~ You are beautiful.
Ich glaube an dich. ~ I believe in you.
Das machst du gut ~ You're doing good.
Alles gut/okay? ~ You're good/ alright?
Ich bin für dich da. ~ I'm here for you.
Du siehst aus, wie ein Engel ~ You look like an angel.
Ich bin stolz auf dich ~ I'm proud of you
Du bist mein Seelenverwandter ~ You're my soulmate
Du bist das Beste, was mir je passiert ist. ~ You're the best thing that ever happened to me.
Du machst mich glücklich ~ You make me happy.
You're very welcome to tag me if you used something, I would love to see your stories
#x men#kurt wagner x reader#kurt wagner#nightcrawler#nightcrawler x reader#fanfics#kurt wagner speaks German
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let me fill you up | Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader
ao3 | masterlist
Pairing: Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader
Summary: You, a Targaryen princess were married into the Lannister fold to ensure the alliance between the two houses, ensuring your eldest brother’s claim to the Iron Throne. Now, Lord Jaime makes your days filled with happiness and makes you eager to present him babies.
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: rhaegar wins AU, no targcest, smuff, fluff, breeding kink, praising kink, a lot of pet names (sweet girl, princess, love), reader has no physical description besides the silvery white targaryen hair, creampie, oral (f receiving), a very devoted husband commited to your pleasure, smut, sex;
a/n: Happy new year! I had posted I wanted to write something like that and it's been a while since I want to write something other than holy and heathen because I must admit I'm not very satisfied with what I've been writing lately. Some validation kudos, comments and reblogs would be very important to me, seriously :') I’ve been thinking in turning this into a small series but I’m not so sure. Could you give me your thoughts on this too? please, enjoy your reading!
Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody
You are sitting surrounded by your maids and children on a breezy night, covered with a fur coat and a crimson silk dress under it. Attentively, you go stitch by stitch and slowly form a lion, sigil of your husband’s house. Ever since Robert’s Rebellion ended and your brother, King Rhaegar Targaryen won, you became promised to the former knight of the Kingsguard, now Lord Jaime Lannister. Life in the lion’s den was not difficult, once Lord Tywin treated her with the most kindness and Jaime was still coming out of his shell. At first, he was your sworn sword in King’s Landing and spent plenty of time together in an unbalanced relationship. Now, you two are sharing a bed after a tumultuous year of war and destruction, as equals. In the beginning, you were sceptical about marrying into the Lannister household, but as the months went by, you found yourself drowned at him. Jaime is careful, gentle and kind. He brings you a small dandelion every morning once he knows it reminds you of home.
His only quirk was the strange attachment to his sister, Lady Cersei. But after being sent to Dorne to marry Prince Oberyn of House Martell and getting distant from each other, your relationship with your husband seemed to finally thrive.
“It appears to be beautiful, my lady.” Said one of her maids, taking care of your youngest son, a small silvery blonde figure of two years of age.
“A bright lion handkerchief for Jaime to carry with him.” You reply, admiring your piece of work. “Do you believe your father will like it, sweetling?” You then ask your eldest daughter, an adorable child of four. Your daughter eagerly nods her head and wraps her hands around one of your fingers to pull the fabric closer to her eyes.
“Dada will love it, mama!” The little one exclaimed, spinning around with the kerchief on her tiny hands.
“What will I love, if I’m allowed to ask?” A tall, blonde figure shows up in your private bedchambers, wearing a classic Westerland attire with a crimson fabric and intricate strings of gold shaped into the sleeves and collar. You smile sweetly to Jaime as he approaches you and grabs your middle child to hold in his arms.
“Papa!” The blonde little girl runs towards her father to embrace his legs and your maids stand up to bow to their lord.
“Have you missed me, dear?” Jaime asked and the fussy children eagerly nodded at him, embracing their father even more. Sometimes, seeing Jaime being so loving and kind towards your children simply melted your heart. You felt the urgency to kiss him and dig your fingers onto his bright hair, begging him for another child. Your cunt ached in pleasure to the thought of Jaime pumping his seed inside of you. You were still young and could bear many more children.
“Mm-rrhm…” You scoffed. “I have missed you too, husband.”
The three children giggled and the child on his arms hid his face on the crook of Jaime’s neck. The eldest covered her laugh with her tiny hands and the youngest beamed along their siblings. Jaime came closer to you and caressed your cheeks with his free hand. Then, a single and gentle kiss he places over your forehead, making your heart flutters with love and passion.
“I have missed you too, my love.” Jaime said, passing his fingertips on your chin and smiling at you.
Your maids quickly stood up and bowed at their overlord as a sign of respect. “Excuse me, my lord, my lady,” Said the servant girl. “Let us take the children so you can rest.”
“But I want to stay with papa!” Said the elder daughter, pouting and crossing her arms. The other two children whined and complained along, but you lowered into their level whilst Jaime talked to the youngest on his arm.
“Sweetlings,” She said, caressing their cheeks. “Your father is rather tired after riding for so long. Go with her, I promise you, your siblings, me and your father will have plenty of time together on the morrow. Is that understood, my loves?”
“I can take you to ride a horse tomorrow and even let you eat lemon cakes before super. What do you think?” Jaime asked, delivering the fussy child from his arms to the other maid. In unison, the three infants agreed and left disappointed. Once you and your husband were alone in your bedchambers, Jaime smiled at you gallantly. You embrace him intimately and are finally able to feel the warmth of his muscular body and feel the softness of his golden hair. His lips reach yours and in a whirlwind of sensations, your cunt is already dripping in anticipation just by a simple touch coming from him. Once he breaks the kiss, he keeps holding you by your waist and gazing at you with admiration.
“You have been gone for too long, love.” You say, passing your fingertips on his lips. He smiles and gives you a peck on the lips before speaking.
“I had duties with your brother, Our Grace King Rhaegar, sweet girl.” Jaime replies, pulling her out gently and grabbing the fabric she embroidered for him.
“I hope you like it, I made it just for you.” You point out, joining your hands to follow him. He keeps smiling as he observes attentively the intricate work you did.
“I shall cherish it and take it wherever I go, dragon princess.” He replied, folding and putting the kerchief in one of his pockets. You giggle as you hear him calling you ‘dragon princess’, a custom he chose to never abandon as a form to remember the late days of their relationship “I wish I had more time to be around and play with the children, I have been missing them and you.”
“They made drawings every day and left it on your desk at your office.” You reply, walking to the window and being followed by him.
“I will make sure to have them guarded in our chambers. Safe as our gold.” He says, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck lightly. You beam in ecstasy feeling his body smother you into a comforting embrace and full missing him.
“Sometimes I still cannot believe we are wedded to each other. You were my sworn shield in King’s Landing!” You exclaim as his hand caresses your empty belly and it tingles by his touch. He grins at your words and says.
“Most people are not so lucky to know your spouse before the wedding day. I consider myself the most lucky man in the world because I could be in your acquaintance from so long ago.” He replies, falling his head on the crook of your neck.
You turn around to be face to face with Jaime, feeling the cold breeze of the rock hitting your back and giving you small shocks as Jaime caresses your back, making you experience a thermal shock and shudder to his touch.
“I feel very lucky to be your wife, Jaime. Most women are not so fortunate to have such a kind, loving and handsome husband.” You mutter as he strokes your hair, in awe with your beauty.
“I guess we are fortunate to be together after so many troubles in war. We even brought new lives into this world to paint a new, brightful history.” He replies, caressing your womb. You stare at his fingers passing up and down your belly and glances at him with a sweet smile.
“And we could have more, love. I must admit I feel empty for so long and I want to give you more children… I know I can give you an entire army of your own. Half lion, half dragon. Unstoppable creatures.”
“You feel empty, love?” He asks, smirking and you eagerly agree with him. “Then allow me to fill you up…” Jaime finished, slowly undoing the intricate laces of your dress to reveal your bare skin under the crimson fabric. In response, you open his attire slowly and little by little his white tunic appears to her eyes.
By this point, your cunt is already sore in anticipation for the moment about to happen and clenches around nothing once he pushes the last section of string holding your garment, releasing you from the pressure tightening your upper body. Jaime pushes down your dress and your underwear is now on display for him, which makes him bite his lip and eagerly take down your white camisole to show him your bare body. You moan as he squeezes your breast and pinches your nipples whilst kissing you. You quickly take off his own undershirt to show off his chest.
“So eager is my dragon princess.” He playfully says, leading you to bed and carefully laying you down. With devotion, he starts to kiss your feet, legs and knees, his hands roaming through your thighs and hips. “Spread your legs for me, little dragon.”
You part your legs, obeying his soft command. “So wet… I can see you truly missed me, my love.” He says, kissing your inner thighs as your body squirms in pleasure before he reaches your intimacy.
“Oh… I have missed you so much, my lion.” You moan your words as he kisses your groyne and passes his fingers lightly over your clit, making your womb tremble and convulse to his touch.
“I can see that, just as I missed you, my dragon princess. Do I have permission to give you a lord’s kiss?” He asks and you only nod in response, making Jaime wet his lips with his own saliva before diving into your dripping core and you to scream involuntarily as his tongue and lips eat you up with full desire. Jaime circles his tongue around your clit and roam around your entire intimacy, making your hips bounce onto his direction. It was his costume to make you come every time before he would be inside of you, now could not be different.
You feel your body explode as if someone threw you into dragon fire as Jaime relentlessly pleases you, making magic with his tongue. Skillfully, he explores your intimate area inch by inch with eagerness, making you dig your fingers on his golden curls, pulling him closer to your cunt and you contorses your body urging for more. Tears of pleasure fall off as you feel goosebumps once you realise you are close to your climax.
As the intensity builds, Jaime's movements become more deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. Your breath hitches, and your fingers entwine in his golden locks, urging him on. The world narrows down to the pleasure he provides, the connection between you deepening with every passing moment.
When the climax finally crashes over you, Jaime doesn't relent. He continues to caress your sensitive core with his tongue, prolonging the sweet release. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you feel the bond between you and Jaime reaching new heights.
“Husband…” You try to stop him and give yourself some time to take a breath, but Jaime does not back off and part your legs once more, holding it as he keeps licking, kissing and sucking your pussy.
“No no, wife… let me please you and bring you to climax once more…” He cuts your words and gently goes back, but now he plays with his fingers on your clit, with far less pressure and slowly draws circles around it, taking soft moans from you. Jaime rises to hover over you, a wicked glint in his eyes. His fingers trace patterns on your flushed skin as he leans in for a heated kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips. “Taste yourself, love.”
And not so long after, you scream his name as you feel waves of pleasure hitting your body as a lightning bolt hits the ground in a storm. Your body is trembling and your legs seem to be two wooden sticks, barely able to stand.
“Please… inside of me, Jaime… I need you…” You plead with him, pulling his body to be on top of yours.
“Your wish is my command, princess.” He replies, kissing you passionately once more and positioning between your legs. Jaime's eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. The anticipation was hanging heavy in the air, your bodies aligned perfectly, and as he slowly entered you, a shared moan escaped both of your lips.
The sensation is electrifying, the culmination of the pleasure he bestowed upon you and the intimate connection between your bodies. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deepening the bond that exists only between you two.
“My perfect princess takes me so well…” He grows as thrusts into you going back and forth nonstop. You lock him by involving your legs around his waist and feeling his hard cock entering your cunt in full force, reaching your cervix and making you beg for more in his ear.
The room echoes with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies, creating a tapestry of love and passion.
“Put another babe on my belly Ser, please…” You beg him as moans leave your mouth and the sound of crashing bodies fill the room quickly.
“With pleasure, love…” He says once more. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deeper inside of your pussy in farfetched positions. He missed you too much after months away from you and it shows by the way he kisses you as he moves desperately to have more of mounting his dragon. The room echoes with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies. As Jaime's movements become faster, the pleasure intensifies, and you find yourself on the verge of another climax. The pleasure is overwhelming, and your bodies move in perfect harmony.
With a final, fervent thrust, Jaime succumbs to the ecstasy and releases his seed deep inside of your womb, growling and grunting with relief and utter bliss. You hit your own orgasm as you feel the warm jets of his seed invading your walls and your body squirm and you scream his name, crying out.
Your bodies tremble in the aftermath, and he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is filled with a comforting silence as you both catch your breath. Jaime's fingers gently trace patterns on your skin as you bask in the warmth of the afterglow. “Do you think we created one more life for our household, love?” You ask him, laying your head on his chest. The world outside your chambers seems distant, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the serenity of each other's embrace.
“Depending on your fertile womb, my love, I have no doubts you are.” He replies, caressing your silvery white hair. “But we must endure in our pursuit on a daily routine. Just to make sure our fourth babe is on the way.” He playfully replies, smirking at you, who mischievously smiles back at him and kisses his lips, wiping some strings of sweat from his face.
Jaime presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur, "I love you, my dragon princess."
And you, wrapped in the arms of the man you love, whisper back, "And I love you, my lion shield."
#fanfic asoiaf#asoiaf fanfiction#ao3#game of thrones fanfiction#a song of ice and fire#house lannister#house targaryen#rhaegar targaryen#jaime lannister#jaime x reader#targaryen x lannister#targaryen oc#targaryen reader#jaime lannister fanfic#lannister#cersei lannister#tywin lannister#asoiaf fanfic#game of thrones fic#game of thrones smut
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when jungkook is leaving and none of you know what to do with yourselves
summary: idol!jk and oc!ash (her name is ash, cz I couldn't think of anything else & Y/N makes me physically cringe), established relationship, jungkook is leaving for military enlistment and they are just spending the last moments together, jimin cameo ;)
genre: fluff, bit angsty, idol au
warnings: again, jungkook going through the whole enlistment procedure, suggestive, oc cries a lott but hey, everyone of us is crying
words: 3.5k
note: it had to be done. I needed to write about this. I'm not functioning straight and I wrote this in a mood where I felt very drained and emotionless so it might show up in the writing....? also, this is concerning-ly unedited. anyways enjoy, feedback is always appreciated <3
you've lost count of how many times you've cried this whole month.
ever since you could walk, talk, and form conscious thoughts, you've noticed that every feeling you've had and tried to express comes out as tears. yes, you're angry, oh my god mom, I wanna shake your shoulders and tell you to believe your daughter for once and not somebody else, but you're silent and you're crying; you've been memorizing every single thing for this presentation and you swear by your future first newborn baby that every word is engraved in your brain, just say the words, people don't care what you fucking say you just need to say something, but you're silent, your legs are shaking on the stage and you think you're crying; you love him, you love this human being staring at you from between your legs with all the love in this whole fucking universe, kind and whole and happy and real, jeon jungkook, you love him so fucking say it, but all you can do is caress his face and let the silent tears cascade down yours.
yes, ever since the beginning of time, all your emotions and feelings have been coming out as tears.
sometimes you think that spending all your teen years bottling up everything because of a mean father and an angry mother messed you up for good. all your life you've hated yourself for crying so easily, especially when in front of other people, feeling so weak and broken all the time. but you didn't think much anymore, at least not as much as you used to overthink when you were younger, scared of fellow high-schoolers, scared of what people think about you. after you've met jungkook, your sweet jungkook, he has shown you that crying doesn't necessarily mean you're weak. maybe you were just sensitive and that was alright, because you've always cried when you felt too much, made you more of a genuine human than everyone else. his words, not yours.
but it did feel good to hear and you didn't know what you've done to deserve it.
you also remember that every time you've hated yourself for crying, you always found solace in the fact that maybe someday it would all run out and you'd be perpetually free from all of it, the childish thoughts of a child.
however, even though you laughed at those thoughts every time you remembered them, you were now convinced of how wrong you were to think that maybe the tears would run out someday if you cried too much. because you've been crying continuously this month, more than you've cried your entire life, and by god, not only have the tears not dried out but also, it just keeps coming more and more if possible.
you choke out once again as you bury your face in jungkook's shoulder, clutching the front of his shirt as he tightens his grip around your waist. he looks at you helplessly, not knowing what to do anymore, because no amount of words or actions could stop you from crying. he knows he has tried it all.
you force yourself to get a grip, rubbing your face on jungkook's already wet shirt to dry your wet cheeks, and look up at the blurry distance in front of you, resting your cheeks against the place you've been hiding. jungkook stands there, one arm wrapped around you and one arm around his mother, with a little smile that keeps blooming at the sight in front of him seeing his jimin hyung hug and bid goodbye to his family, despite all the heartbreak in the air.
he tightens his grip around you and leans down to kiss his mother's head, who is in a state identical to you but still more graceful and elegant than you could ever be. "it's gonna be okay, you two", he whispers, causing his mother to gently smile and take your hands as you let out yet another sniff at his words. as sad and worried as she was at her son's departure, she couldn't help but feel worried for you too, her motherly nature reaching out towards you in a way you never felt from your own mother.
"I will be okay", she smiles at you in a teasing manner, despite her glassy eyes, "but the question is, will your girlfriend be okay?"
"h-hey!", your voice shook as an unintentional smile replaced the frown, "stop teasing me, maa", you whine.
"I am not teasing you, dear. honestly, come live with me for a few days. come to busan. I'll take care of you"
"if you keep saying that, I'll really turn into a parasite and stay in your house forever, maa"
jungkook giggles at your conversation, happy that the most important two women in his life got along so well. and you did, ever since the day you've met his mother. she loved you as her own daughter, as did his father, and made you feel so loved and comfortable that even your antisocial ass loved to spend time with them, making you visit them frequently, with and without jungkook by your side.
jungkook's mother lets go of her son and glides into her husband's arm, who looks at jungkook with pride. after all who wouldn't be proud of this talented, lovely, hardworking boy? jungkook was your boyfriend, and your best friend before your relationship upgraded into something more, and a lot of words came to your mind when you thought of him. but the first word has to be proud. proud that he became the man he is now, proud of who he was and every single version of him, how humble and kind and caring he is, always making everyone around him feel loved and respected. proud of how your friendship managed to stay so strong after all this time, proud how he is trying his best to get through these 18 months without any toll in your relationship.
jungkook hasn't shed a single tear yet, holding you through nights when you decided to be a mood killer, couldn't help thinking that soon he wouldn't be able to hold you like this. you were so far rooted in the future of the enlistment process that you forgot to live the present. you were a mess, shaking and sobbing ever so often, frustrated at hybe, frustrated at the whole lot of bts for taking a decision like this, frustrated at the south korean government, frustrated at jungkook for not being frustrated at how hysterical you've been acting.
jungkook, instead, has been a constant pillar of support. he has been constantly kissing your tears away, pushing his fears away of how you guys might not last through this calamity, reassuring you more than him that it will be alright. and as much as you wish he would express his own feelings instead of tending yours, you were glad that the boy didn't cry because it was all that was holding you back from getting onto your knees and begging him not to go. you couldn't do that to him, couldn’t do that to his happiness because you knew he would've obliged to your wishes, somehow, and break his own heart. he would do anything for you. he has been continuously proving that, after all.
"how is ash holding up?", jimin asks jungkook as he takes a sip of his soju, not feeling drunk enough despite the few bottles of alcohol he has drank. the point of the night was to spend time with each other, jungkook, him, and taehyung, getting wasted and having fun like old days. namjoon was supposed to join them as well, but he was overseas on schedule. taehyung, on the other hand, was already passed out on the couch, but it might have to do less with his low alcohol tolerance and more with his tiredness after landing in seoul from france just a few hours ago, after quite a hectic fashion week. so, it was jimin and jungkook now, them and their alcoholic asses against the whole world. after all, no one could hold their liquor like them in the whole group.
"she is, well, I honestly don’t know", jungkook frowned, a drop of soju ran down his lips to his black sweatshirt but he didn’t seem to notice, "she is totally ignoring that I have to leave and acting completely normal."
"sounds like her. isn't running from her problems her best coping mechanism?". you were close with all the members in the group, and the rest of them considered you as their little sister as well (even though taehyung jokingly called you noona sometimes) but if there was one member who knew the best, it had to be park jimin. he was your best friend after jungkook and the time you spent together, whether be it gossiping or shopping, was always something both of you found therapeutic and cherished from the bottom of your hearts.
a silent pain erupts in jungkook's heart as he finally voices out the thought he has been continuously having for the last few days, "hyung, should I break up with her?"
"yah jeon jungkook", jimin smacks the back of the younger boy's head, looking at him with shock, "are you that drunk already?"
"I don’t-", jungkook chokes out the next few words incoherently, and jimin had to physically shift closer to the boy to make sense of his words, "I don’t know what to do. I-I don’t know how to live without her. I want her all to myself and I selfishly want to ask her to wait for me. but how can I do that when she could have a much better life without me?"
"jungkookie-"
"she could fall in love with someone better than me. fuck, saying it out loud infuriates me but I know that she could be happier, way happier than I can ever make her. you see what I am doing? I am leaving the girl I love to protect my career, to make sure nobody has anything else left to guilt trap us with. I am doing all of this for myself. how selfish does that make me?"
"you keep forgetting that you don't have a choice, jungkookie."
"then why does it all feel like my fault?"
"what are we going to do?"
the words escape your lips without meaning to. they hang like a whisper in the air as your bodies slowly recover from the high they have been through, limbs tangled and eyes closed, forehead resting against each other.
"are we gonna be alright?"
yes, jungkook wants to say, yes because if you decide to stay, I will make it all work, I will make it all okay, I promise. but how can I ask you to stay when it will only hurt you?
"do you want to… maybe… break up?", his vacant voice makes your eyes fly open in bewilderment, not being able to believe that he actually said the words that he said. all this time both of you have been ignoring the pink elephant in the room, only almost two months left before jungkook left for the military enlistment along with namjoon, jimin, and taehyung. you’ve been trying to enjoy what little time both of you had despite your busy schedules, especially jungkook, who has been working tirelessly to make his fans feel a little less lonely when he won't be present anymore. something to hold on to while I am gone, I hope you can stay within this magic shop we've build together, memories of me would console you like the gentlest breeze of a fall evening, I will yet again patch something I haven’t broken.
but one of you had to be strong enough to address it, this overwhelming dread and the constant need to be with each other, ignoring sleep and every other basic need because you knew your time was coming to an end. you needed to address it and needed to be assured that both of you can get through this, your love was way stronger than these 18 months.
but that's the first thing he wants to say?
the way he looks at you breaks your heart. he has a small smile on his face and you can tell that it is genuine, that he is taking one last moment to cherish all of you if you decided to say yes. but there is almost an unbearing sadness behind his eyes, pained and tortured, begging you to say no.
your voice is almost comical when you actually find it, "jeon jungkook, do you want me to fucking kill you?"
and his immediate reaction is almost laughable. you could see his shoulders drop with relief. he buries his face in your neck and drops all of his weight on top of you, holding you in a way that immediately blocks out all the bad things and forces you to focus on him and him only.
you laugh, "you're quite heavy, babyboy"
"deal with it", comes out his muffled reply, as he forces you down on the soft mattress with his bare body, almost an attempt to bury you, and you choke out yet another laugh at his antics, tightening your legs around his waist and running your hands through his fluffy hair. I refuse to believe that it will all be gone soon.
"you haven't said anything. anything at all", he says quietly.
its sad that you know what he is talking about.
"I didn’t know what to say", you reply softly, careful that your voice doesn't shake. he doesn't need to see how you break every time you remember that he is going to leave, which you've been remembering an awful lot these days. no, you need to be strong, for him and for you. after all, you have already survived months away from each other, during tours and comebacks, thanks to both of your careers.
"we have survived before. it's not something new for us. we can do it again", you whisper against his jaw, gulping down the tears threatening to break free. only this time, it's 18 fucking months, and the unspoken words hang into the air.
"you didn't even shed a single tear", jungkook lifts his face and looks at you accusingly, knowing very well that you're a crybaby, "it keeps feeling like you don’t care."
your eyes widen at his words and it feels like a punch to your gut but you can’t say you're surprised. you have been acting indifferent to put up a strong front, and now that you look back, you may have overdone it from time to time. you were never a good actor.
you never understood why it always felt like this, every time you hide your problems from someone to not bother them, and always feel like a shipwreck when they actually fail to notice.
"jungkook, love", you trace his cheeks with your fingertips, his cute chubby cheeks, his lips, moving to his eyelids the moment he closes his eyes under your touch. you drag your fingertips through his scalp, waterfalls of his hair cascading down when you reach his nape, softly pulling his face closer to kiss the tip of his nose. jungkook, my love, how do I tell you that you mean the world to me and that I am not worried that our relationship isn't as strong enough to fight the course of time but I am sad and I am selfish and I don't know how to survive without feeling your presence for even a single day? how do I tell you that you never have to worry about me leaving but worry about me staying forever and suffocating you? I love you and I don't know what to do with myself, I love you and I don't know who I am without that love. what can I say to make it all better?
"babe, are you crying?"
no, you're not crying. you're sobbing.
"wait wait, I didn't actually ask you to cry—", you can see the panic in his eyes as he pulls both of your bodies up into a sitting position just using one of his hands while the other wipes your cheek off, you on his lap, your thighs straddling his waist, bare torsos flushed against each other. you feel him pulling you into a hug as if your bodies could get any closer than they already are. but instead of being comforted, you sob even louder.
"ash, sweetheart, please don't cry", jungkook wanted to punch himself, regretting the words he spoke earlier. what the hell was he thinking, saying that you didn't cry? he wanted to go back and kick his own ass at the stupidity. why the hell would he want you to cry of all things?
you on the other hand could do nothing except bury your face in your boyfriend's neck, and feel the entirety of him, his body, his scent, his hold on you, his voice so clear in your head, nothing but him until the time runs out. you have been so strong till now, haven't you?
"but you're leaving", he could see now, how much of an idiot he had been thinking that you didn’t care enough just because all you were doing was trying to be tough and get through without this exact moment happening. he could hear the desperation in your choked sobs, he could feel the sadness at his own dam threatening to break. he almost felt angry that after all this time, he was still stupid enough to not see through you.
"and I will be back sweetheart, you know I will be. and then there would be nothing standing between us anymore. nothing. for the rest of our lives", he promises as he lifts your tear-soaked face to look at his own. he looked pained, trying his best to be strong when you were falling apart right in his arms, but you could still see the hope behind his eyes because his promise was real and you knew it.
but once the waterworks begin, it just cannot stop.
there is nothing left to say now. it is time, you realize. the chilly breeze washes over you, and you realize that nothing can make you feel as cold as you will when jungkook gets in that car with jimin. your eyes find each other, mouths desperately looking for words to say, promises, comfort, but what can you say that hasn't already been said?
"I love you", you whisper.
"stay out of trouble, okay?", jungkook kisses your forehead and even with the unstoppable tears leaking out from your eyes, you can't help but shoot him a mischievous glance. you, the god of getting into trouble, staying out of trouble?
jungkook sighs, knowing you a bit too well. after spending years together, he knew well enough that you could never be forced to do something you didn't want to do. you were like a storm, passing through in a way that was your own, wrecking everything in the process. while he loved your bravery and carefree nature, he realized it comes with its consequences. for him, it was constantly worrying about you and never wrongfully so. so, he returns to his last resort to make sure that you will be okay, "do it for me."
"okay that is pure emotional blackma—"
you cannot finish your words because his lips are on yours in a second, abruptly plunging you down a rabbit hole because, god, after all this time you're still not used to it. he smells like fresh laundry and mint, moving carefully because he isn't sure that you will allow him to kiss you like this in front of half the people from his company, his parents, and god knows who else is in the base. but who are you push him away?
you drop all courtesy and kiss him back in a manner that is sure yet gentle, tongue brushing softly against his lips. jungkook obliges and parts his lips, breathe mingling and tongue dancing in harmony as you kiss him with all your might, letting all of him overwhelm all of you one last time.
you let go of each other, breathless yet eyes glued. you trace his face, from his eyes to his cheeks and nose, his shaved head, still as soft as silk under your touch. he kisses your fingers when they reach his lips, smiling gently to remind you that yes, he will be gone, and that will hurt as hell but then again, he will be back.
"go, jimin's waiting", you force out a smile, "and please, for the love of god, choose something normal to do, something that doesn't involve jumping out of an aircraft or—"
"I love you."
".....I know."
#bts#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts army#bts jungkook#bts smut#bts scenarios#bts imagines#jeon jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook smut#jungkook#jungkook fluff#bts fluff#jungkook fanfiction#bangtan sonyeondan#bangtan boys#bangtan#park jimin
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𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 — charles leclerc
pairing: prince!charles leclerc x reader ; prince!charles leclerc x princess!reader ; prince!dad!charles leclerc x princess!mom!reader
summary: in which the royal family and prince charles leclerc finally spoke out about the rumors of an affair between him and the actress.
warning: english is not my native language, use google translation
au: yea yea i know some people don’t like the cheating plot, but i think it’s just so bored if everything just go so smooth :(((
read my royal series here
y/n_leclerc
Liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and others
y/n_leclerc I’m posting this just to let you know that our marriage life is still as great as it is before every false rumor, a false rumor always a false rumor so I’m not worried or even care about it, and beside that we’re planning on having our 2nd child together!! 🫶🏻 You might ask who idea it is right? It’s my husband Charles and our son Christian Arthur just ask me if I can give him little sister or little brother, and my husband also said he want a mini Y/n running around the house.
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charles_leclerc ❤️ Tellement chanceux de t'avoir
⤷ y/n_leclerc Christian and I are so lucky to have you by our side
arthur_leclerc Can’t wait to meet a new addition of Y/n Leclerc
⤷ y/n_leclerc Wait what 😂 I’m not even pregnant yet how do you know its going to be a baby girl
ilovecharlesleclerc_ Hii, may i ask what is Prince Christian Arthur hobby?
⤷ y/n_leclerc Oh, he love go-karting, him and Charles use to go-karting every weekend. They LOVE F1
favgirly/n The way she’s so calm makes me love her even more
charles_leclerc
Liked by y/n_leclerc and others
charles_leclerc I, Prince Charles Leclerc of Monte Carlo would like to declear the rumor one more time, that there are no romantic relationship betwen us, the only love that I shared is for Y/n and Christian. And that’s it
Also I wanted to said this to @y/n_leclerc
I must say how happy I am to have a wife who is always willing to help me solve problems in a very calm way, whenever I have difficult problems to solve, Y/n always being the one to help me find different solutions made me respect her even more. More than that, I always feel lucky to have her as my wife and mother of my children.
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viennajaula_ We need a sorry from you @kristiannabailee_official 🙂 you better post it or i’m gonna have to “hunt” you down myself
redferarri Why the worst things always happen to our Charles, he’s the nicest guy and Y/n too they’re just jealous of them!! 😩
genni See i told you, he never ever do that horrible things
blueivyy Not gonna, i hate that girl so much she can’t even say hi to her fan
⤷ loveliee She’s super mean, mean to every single fan
lanadelreysmywife Y/n, the most beloved Princess of Monte Carlo 😩😩😩😩😩
kristianabailee_official
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kristianabailee_official Hi, I'm Kristiana Bailee and you probably know me from my role or with the most recent rumor that I'm in a relationship with Prince Charles Leclerc but in reality it's just me. Yes, I have feelings for Prince Charles Leclerc and I want to write this post to apologize to the fans who have suffered the hurt, the disappointment caused by me and more especially, I want to apologize to Prince Charles Leclerc and Princess Y/n of Monte Carlo for causing these unnecessary misunderstandings.
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krisanddede That’s okay, atleast you know what you doing is wrong. We forgive you
theleclercfaam Should i believe her or not :))
y/nismyqueen The manager better keep her away from the whole royal family. They won’t know what she would do next
sophiagreen I hope Prince Christian Arthur won’t see all of this shit when he become adult, she clearly wants to ruin the reputation of Prince Charles Leclerc and the royal family!
jessica_ 🙂🙂
#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc fanfiction#charles leclerc smut#prince!charles leclerc x y/n#prince!charles leclerc x reader#prince!charles leclerc#prince!charles leclerc x you#prince!charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc smau#f1 imagine#f1 driver imagine#f1 fic#f1 instagram au#f1 driver x y/n#f1 driver imagines
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the shape of your body (explicit)
genre: fluffy slowburn smut
pairing: jimin x reader
summary: the same day you finally manage to speak to your months-long public transit crush, you end up seeing much more of him than you bargained for.
word count: 24k 🙇♀️
contains: explicit sexual content~*~ (after a slow burn lmao) - new york city grad school AU, strangers to lovers, reader is an art student, public transit thirsting, jimin is a dancer and a nude model, namgi and vhope as side characters, basically everyone is gay (they're ART STUDENTS in NEW YORK CITY it's called realism 💅), a smidge of member x member side character relationships, jimin is biromantic demisexual 👀, conversations about body image issues/past relationship struggles/demisexuality and libido, soooo much making out, a couple "failed attempts" at sex, accidental voyeurism (but not how you think lmao YOU'LL SEE), showering together non-sexually, and: fingering, clit stim, nipple play, come eating/sharing 🤭 an attempted blowjob, face sitting, & protected sex (multiple rounds 🥵)
A/N: asjdshgkdfjgs i can't believe it's done 😭 there were so many times i thought i would never finish this fic !!! i have too many friends to thank for talking me off of SEVERAL ledges where i was convinced this whole thing was trash and that i should just stick to short porn or perhaps simply never write again. i'm so glad i saw this one through because there are concepts in here that are deeply important and personal to me wehhh 🫠 i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this one!! thank u for enduring mostly radio silence while i was in jimin lockdown, and of course, happy early birthday to mini, the light of my mf life 🥰💜
(oh and LDOMLT ch 8 is coming next so buckle tf up bitches 👀)
an eternity of smooches to @haliiimede for beta reading and just generally being the best fucking person on planet earth ✨ AND TO @goodsoop FOR THE DEMI SENSITIVITY READ VERY SORRY THAT I AM THE WORLD'S LARGEST IDIOT AND FORGOT TO CREDIT..... i love you both 🥺
read on AO3!
~*~
You’ve taken the subway thousands of times since moving to New York.
Morning rides, squeezed nearly to death between commuters in suits blinking back sleep and school-uniformed kids scream-laughing and paper coffee cups gripped tight by winter-numb fingers.
Long trips with your sketchbook on your lap, riding the line all the way to Pelham Bay Park and back, to surface above ground out where there’s a little more space to breathe, until the setting sun floods orange glow between the buildings just before you descend again.
Late nights coming home, Namjoon’s head thudding back against the train window behind him as he dozes off, one arm thrown around your shoulder to ward off any drunk creeps, his free hand interlaced with Yoongi’s on his other side.
It’s always been the three of you, first in friendship, and now that the two of them have figured out they’re something more, you don’t mind it. But when it’s late and you’ve had enough drinks to feel warm all the way through, to melt something open inside of you, and you glance over to see a loving flicker of eyelashes exchanged as Namjoon leans down and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s temple, you can’t help it.
There’s a little bit of an ache there, right behind your ribs. Sometimes.
But mostly, when it comes to the train, you take the 6 to school. You go through the motions this morning the same as you always do: headphones around your neck, bag slung over your shoulder, immediately dropping into the first empty seat you see as the train doors shudder closed and the car starts to move. Six stops down, 51st street to Astor Place, five days a week, you know it like a heartbeat.
You just wish you knew him, too.
Subway Boy, as Yoongi affectionately labeled him the time you got two pitchers of margaritas deep and made the mistake of confessing to your roommates about your crush— if it can even be called that. Can you truly have a crush on someone you know nothing about, not even their name?
Well, you know a few things.
He must live further north than you, because on the days you see him, he’s already on the train when you board at 51st.
He must like music, because he always has a set of fancy bluetooth earbuds in.
You’re pretty sure he’s an athlete of some sort, because he’s usually carrying a gym bag—and because during this summer’s heat wave, the one and only time you’ve seen him wear shorts, you nearly fainted at the thick, defined muscles of his thighs.
He has an affinity for jewelry, delicate silver always glinting through the multiple piercings in his ears. At odds with this, he seems to prefer to dress comfortably, and you’ve seen him in enough branded school t-shirts and sweats to figure he must also be an NYU student, though you can’t say for sure if he’s undergrad or graduate.
You deeply hope you’re not crushing on someone who still needs a fake ID to drink, but there’s no way to be certain.
Most importantly, you know that he is absolutely stunning. Elegantly handsome, with expressive deep brown eyes, skin like glass, and round cheeks and full lips that flush frozen pink on particularly frigid New York days. His hair has changed colors a few times over the months that have passed since you first took notice of him, but it’s currently a honey blonde, and long enough that he often reaches up to card a hand through it. He does it now, pushing loose strands back to expose his forehead as he frowns down at his phone.
On days where you share the same car, you notice very little else that happens on the ride, thoroughly entranced in Subway Boy’s beauty and his mystery. The train could probably catch fire and you’d miss it entirely.
Today happens to be one of those days, and excitement glitters in your bloodstream as you realize he’s seated across from you. The rush of seeing him always feels like its own reward, some kind of cosmic sign that the day is going to be a good one.
And then the train stops moving.
There’s an audible reaction from a few people in the car, and you glance up a moment later when a voice buzzes over the intercom. You’re able to make out “attention passengers” and very little after that, just the basics about some sort of unforeseen interruption of service and that the train should resume moving again soon.
You sigh, knowing very well that the MTA’s definition of ‘soon’ does not often align with typical human expectations. Figuring you’ve got some time to kill, you reach into your bag to retrieve your sketchbook and the first pencil you can dig out of the bottom.
“What did they say?” A voice, quiet and deep, surprises you before you can even flip to your in-progress page.
You glance up to find Subway Boy staring at you, forearms braced on his knees as he leans forward into the gap between his seat and yours. He’s got one bluetooth earbud pinched between his fingertips and a confused look on his face, having clearly missed the announcement.
Heat floods your face at the feeling of his eyes fixed on you, and it takes you a second to form a response. “Uh— I didn’t get most of it. Something about unforeseen interruption. And that we’ll be moving again soon.”
A muscle works in his jaw as he rolls his eyes. “Typical.”
“I don’t think they know what ‘soon’ means,” you murmur, mostly to yourself as you tear your gaze away from Subway Boy and return to the sketchbook in your lap, rifling through to find your latest half-finished drawing. When you hear him huff a laugh, you have to bite down on the hopeful smile that threatens to shine across your face.
“Definitely not.”
You force yourself to keep your eyes on the page, assuming Subway Boy must go back to his music when he falls silent after his last comment.
With featherlight flicks of your pencil, you start to add a little depth to the quick study you were working on last night, Yoongi’s half-peeled tangerine that he left abandoned on the coffee table when he stepped out onto the fire escape for a smoke.
Subway Boy’s voice catches you off guard a second time. “Are you drawing?”
You bite down on your lip again, a nervous habit, and you nod as you tilt the page so he can see from across the car.
“Wow.” You wonder if you’re imagining the way his voice seems to soften a little. “You’re really good. Are you an artist?”
You can’t help it— your gaze flits up to meet his again. It’s nearly overwhelming to lock eyes with your Subway Boy and hear him compliment you, like something out of a wild daydream. “I guess so,” you remark, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a small smile as you say it. “I’ve certainly paid NYU enough money in my attempts to become one.”
“Know the feeling,” he scoffs, but his eyes smile back, pulled into crescent moons.
“What did you pay them for?”
“Currently, a dual MFA/MA in dance and… teaching dance. Really went all-in on the dancer thing.”
“Oh.” Your eyes widen automatically. You’ve wondered— and yes, occasionally drunkenly speculated with your roommates— what Subway Boy’s line of work might be, but you have no idea why dancer never occurred to you. Because now all the pieces suddenly fall together in front of you: the toned muscles that flex beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, the natural grace he exudes, not to mention his perfect posture.
Of course he’s a dancer. It makes perfect sense.
It occurs to you, a beat too late, that a wide-eyed ‘oh’ is not the most normal response to a truly innocuous answer to a question asked of a random stranger.
But the smile in his eyes doesn’t falter. “I feel like I see you on this train a lot.”
Your stomach flutters like butterfly wings, and you have to look away, back down to the safety of your sketchbook. “Really?”
There’s an extra pause before he speaks again. “Man, sorry. Think I misread that. Now I feel creepy. I promise I’ve only noticed you a normal amount.” Your eyes snap back up to find him wincing slightly, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.
“No, no, I’m— it’s not—” you stammer, trying to recover. “I, uh— me too, I have too. Noticed you. A normal amount. I… I don’t know why I just pretended like I didn’t.”
Subway Boy leans forward, head dropping down with a genuine laugh that shakes his shoulders, and you can’t help but laugh too, out of sheer embarrassment. He’s beaming when he rights himself again, and it sends a thrill buzzing through you, all the way down to your fingertips still clutched tight to your pencil.
“That makes me feel better,” he admits. “At least we’re both creepy.”
As if the universe itself is intervening to save you from any further humiliation, the train shudders back to life and begins to move again. The sigh you breathe is a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.
“That’s definitely a new record,” you say shyly as you move to shove your things back in your bag. “Maybe the MTA actually looked up what ‘soon’ means.”
His focus is tracked over your shoulder when you look up again, and his eyes dance left to right to chase the patterns in the subway tile as you pull into the next station.
“Guess it’s a miracle,” he says softly, not making eye contact.
“Must be,” you murmur back, letting your gaze drop to the floor, unable to hide your smile now.
He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do you, but the warm flush stays in your face for the rest of the ride. When the train pulls into the Astor Place station, you and Subway Boy get to your feet simultaneously, so quickly that your bags knock together as you pull them over your shoulders.
“Sorry,” you say in unison, immediately sharing an exhaled laugh at the synchronicity of the moment.
The doors slide open and he gestures for you to go first before following after. It’s a surprise— he’s never gotten off at Astor before, and when he doesn’t take the option of heading in another direction but instead falls into lockstep next to you, you seize the opportunity.
“Astor Place today, huh?” You hope the observation still falls into the category of ‘noticing a normal amount’.
“Yeah, first day of a new gig. What about you? Class?”
You nod. “Pretty standard stuff. But we start a new unit today, so that’s fun.”
“You in grad school too?”
“Yup, MFA in studio art.” You can’t help but tease, just a little. “Only one master’s degree for me, I’m such a slacker.”
His eyes squint again as he smiles. “Hey, I’m just glad you’re not, like, eighteen.”
“I thought that too!” You keep talking before you can stop yourself. “I mean, when I was… noticing. I distinctly remember thinking, like, please let me not be thirsting over a straight-up child right now.”
“Ahh...” Subway Boy trails off, and you can see a faint pink starting to blossom in the apples of his cheeks. “You were thirsting?”
You can’t help but scrunch your nose up slightly, resisting the urge to full-body cringe at your own stupid mouth. “We are now officially both creepy.”
He fidgets a little with the strap of the dance bag slung over his shoulder. “Hopefully I’m living up to the hype.”
You’re grateful to reach the art building before you can dig your grave any deeper. You nod your head in the direction of the glass doors as you slow to a stop, and he does, too. “This is me.”
“It’s actually me, too,” he remarks, glancing up at the building as if to double-check. “But I have a little bit, so I’m gonna grab a coffee I think. But it was nice to finally talk to you. Not that— sorry, that was weird. Take out the finally. It was good to talk. Meet a fellow starving artist and all.”
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, until you finally work up the courage to ask the question. “Do you have a name?”
“Oh!” His eyes widen, more heat-blush coloring his face. “Yeah. Park Jimin. Probably could’ve led with that.”
You give him your name, and his voice is like music when he repeats it back.
“Well, good luck in class,” Jimin says with a nod. “And hopefully I’ll see you around sometime.” A smile toys at the corner of his mouth, and then he pauses as his words seem to catch up to him. “Well, I mean. I guess I know I will. On the— train— yeah, I’m gonna go before I say any more stupid things.”
“Bye Jimin,” you giggle, and he gives a shy departing wave before he spins on his heel. As he walks away, you can’t help but notice the way he drops his gaze and shakes his head, like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his social performance.
And just like that, Subway Boy has a name— one that loops in your head as you float to class, barely feeling your feet touch the floor. Park Jimin. It’s sweet like him, warm sunshine in your veins as you shoulder open the door to the studio, grab a seat, and start to get set up.
A voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin as Kim Taehyung leans in, having occupied the seat next to you while you were off in la-la land. “Know what the new unit is?” You start to shake your head, then realize it was a rhetorical question when he waggles his eyebrows and continues. “Life drawing. Ready for some naked people?”
You roll your eyes and grab at the strings of his gray beanie, pulling it down over his fluffy hair and eyes in one swift tug. “Bro, we are literally in grad school. Stop acting like a virgin.”
“Like you weren’t thinking it too,” he grumbles to himself as he shoves the hat back up his forehead.
You shoot him a look as your professor signals the class to settle and launches in. It’s the same routine as each unit you’ve rotated through in your graduate studio, so you only half-listen, mostly distracted by Taehyung tearing open the paper wrapper of a red heart-shaped lollipop and popping it into his mouth. His latest oral fixation in his millionth attempt to quit vaping.
You lean down to dig into your bag, trying to ignore the sound of hard candy clacking against teeth as you fish out both pencils and charcoal to give yourself options. You pull a couple of each out of their cases, glancing up in an attempt to refocus on the professor, who is still talking.
It takes a second for your brain to process the image in front of you. His shy smile has been replaced with a serious, professional expression, but there’s no questioning the familiar face, the posture, the silver jewelry, the way he reaches up to run a hand through his hair. Subway Boy Park Jimin is standing in the center of the room, wearing a short black satin dressing gown.
Your jaw goes slack. It feels like it happens in slow motion as you watch Jimin’s strong hands move down to undo the sash at his waist before he shrugs off the flimsy fabric and lets it fall to the floor. And then he’s not wearing anything at all.
You lose your grip entirely on your handful of pencils, and they hit the studio floor with a clatter that certainly feels deafening, each one choosing to roll off in a different direction.
Taehyung glances over at you, brow slightly creased. The lollipop tucked in his cheek impedes his speech slightly, but not enough that you can’t understand him. “Now who’s the virgin?”
You crouch down, praying that maybe you can gather your things unnoticed, but it already feels like every pair of eyes in the room is burning a hole in your back. To his credit, Taehyung at least helps a little, extending a sandaled foot to kick any pencils he can reach over towards you. You scramble around the room to chase after the rest, and you can’t bear to look up and see if Jimin is watching you or not. You’re not sure which would be worse.
Fighting the urge to army crawl out of the room, you grip both hands tightly around your materials as you return to your seat, then tuck everything into the tray of the easel in front of you. You’re a professional, you tell yourself. It’s not like it’s your first time drawing someone nude.
It’s just your first time doing it when you happen to have a crush on them.
But it’s fine. You let out an exhale to ground yourself, then pick up a pencil. It’s just a body.
You vaguely recall hearing your professor explain that you’d be moving through ten quick-sketch poses to begin with, each held for only a few minutes, before switching to a few longer sessions for the rest of class. As you were too busy chasing your pencils around the room, you’ve missed the first pose entirely, and you have to work quickly to get a very rough outline of the second before Jimin moves again at the professor’s instruction.
He switches so fluidly from one pose to the next, and you have so little time, it’s enough to get you out of your head just trying to keep up. You find yourself falling comfortably into a flow state, focused on little more than lines and shapes in front of you and the act of reproducing them on your page. It’s an exercise you know well, and the repetition of it soothes you.
The studio is quiet, save for the scratching of pencils on paper and the soft classical music your professor has switched on.
By the time you finish sketching the tenth pose, it feels like you can breathe a little easier, and your professor offers Jimin a quick break just as you lean back to admire your work. You do your best to quickly duck behind your easel as he stretches, then reaches for a bottle of water set on a nearby table.
Taehyung removes his sheet of sketches and sets it aside before leaning in, pressing his face against his easel to match yours. “He’s cute. Bet he gets like, infinite ass-pussy. Just the absolute most.”
“Shut up, Tae!” You jerk your foot out to kick the leg of his chair, and a boxy grin stretches over his face as he giggles. You stare daggers back. “You’re too damn horny today. Like you didn’t just get your ass eaten in the supply closet last week.” The rumor had spread through your cohort practically overnight— probably started by Taehyung himself.
The menace in question shoots you an over-exaggerated wink. “And I’d do it again, too.”
You roll your eyes. “Nasty.”
The professor claps to get everyone’s attention again, and you peer around your easel to watch as Jimin resumes his place at the center of the room. You settle in for the first of a few longer, more detailed sketches, trying desperately to keep your cool about it. But Jimin is unquestionably gorgeous.
He turns to the side for the first pose, arms wrapped around his muscular torso and eyes downcast, fingertips and thumb resting over his neck and chin as if to cradle his own face in his hand. After a long stretch of time where you manage to get most of a sketch done, the professor cues him to move into a second pose, and he faces the back wall, reaching up to drape his arms over each other, crossed wrists resting delicately on the crown of his head.
You could easily see him as a statue carved out of marble, and you try to ignore the flutter of your heartbeat as you attempt to translate his beauty onto your page each time. You have to hold in several sighs as you work on outlining the strong, toned muscles of his back and thighs— not to mention his perky ass. You can’t help but wonder if the rest of the class is struggling silently, too.
You’re beginning to think you might survive after all when the professor asks Jimin to move again and he does, shaking his body out slightly before reaching to grab a provided stool and shift it to the center of the room. He takes a seat, abdominals flexing as he leans back on his hands and unabashedly lets his legs fall open.
Fuck. You nearly snap your pencil in half.
You try desperately to keep it together as you start your third sketch with unsteady hands. The minutes tick by, and you aren’t aware of Taehyung’s eyes on your paper until you hear his stupid whisper again. “Why aren’t you drawing his dick?”
He’s not wrong. There is a noticeable blank spot at the center of your page. “I’m getting there,” you huff. “Worry about your own sketch, Tae.”
“Girl, you are literally doing detail shading on his legs and he doesn’t even have a penis. What is he, a Ken doll?”
You grit your teeth and refuse to dignify Taehyung with a response. Fine. You can do this, you tell yourself. Don’t think. Just look and draw. It’s not a big deal.
With a hard swallow, you trace your eyes down his body, and… well, you don’t know what you were expecting. It’s just a soft penis resting limp between his legs, framed by an extremely regular pair of balls. Nothing scary, though you can’t quite will the heat back out of your face, can’t manage to silence the recurring thought that makes your stomach drop— it’s cute.
You resist the urge to smack your head against your easel as you finally fill in your sketch’s dick.
You somehow manage to survive the rest of class, but relief still floods your veins when your professor signals for everyone to wrap up what they’re doing for the day. Jimin starts to come alive again from the fixed pose, tilting his head to one side until something cracks audibly in his neck. You tear your gaze away for fear that his eyes might find yours, and shove everything into your bag as quickly as you can, not even caring what ends up where.
“Where’s the fire?” Taehyung questions beside you, but you ignore him.
You zip your bag up and sling it over your shoulder, then make a beeline for the exit, keeping your eyes fixed firmly on the floor. It’s only once the studio door swings shut behind you that you feel like you can breathe again, and you have to keep yourself from outright sprinting to your next class.
~*~
The rest of the day rushes by in an overwhelming blur, your focus entirely shot by the events of the morning. You collapse into a seat on your train home, hugging your bag to your chest, thankful for the first time in your life to not be sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.
When you turn your keys in the lock and stumble in the front door of the apartment, the divine smell of what could only be Yoongi’s cooking immediately hits you full-force. You find him in the kitchen with a towel thrown over his shoulder, searing a large steak in a cast iron pan for what must be a planned date night with Namjoon.
You wrap your arms around his tiny waist from behind as you approach. He responds with his usual greeting: a soft grunt of mild discomfort.
“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, trying to sound as sweet as possible.
“You just did,” Yoongi notes.
You decide to let his sass go, since you really do need help. “Two more?” Yoongi hums, somewhat affirmative, and you continue. “I know you work like 47 jobs and never get any time off—“
“Some of us have to pay rent without the luxury of stipends or rich parents, yes—“
“But is there any way I could… maybe possibly encroach upon your date night just this once? It’s an emergency. I need advice.”
Yoongi sighs, and you shift to peek over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around him as you watch the way he tilts the pan to one side, collecting butter on a spoon to baste over the steak as it cooks. You squish your cheek into his bicep.
“Lucky for you,” he begins, his tone relenting, “Namjoonie just called. They’ve got him working late to prep for the exhibition next month. So date night was canceled anyway.”
“Aw, Yoongiiiii.” You squeeze him tight enough that he makes another disgruntled noise, and you finally release your grip. “I’ll be your girlfriend tonight.”
He rolls his eyes, but willingly plays along. “Then get the wine, darling?”
You fall into a typical routine: Yoongi pulls a tray of roasted vegetables out of the oven as he lets the steak rest, while you grab a bottle of red at his instruction and fight with the corkscrew in an attempt to get it open. Yoongi watches you, slow-blinking, unamused.
“You wouldn’t last an hour in the restaurant industry.”
“Either help me, or shut up,” you hiss through clenched teeth.
When you finally get settled at your tiny kitchen table, Yoongi nods as if to prompt you while he fills each wine glass with a heavy pour. “Let’s hear it.”
You take a deep breath before launching in and recounting the events of your day, trying not to choke as you simultaneously stuff your face with food. Yoongi eats and listens quietly, no discernible reaction on his face save the occasional lift of his eyebrows. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as you finish detailing the way you ran out of the studio the minute class ended.
“Alright. So you saw Subway Boy naked, big deal. Do you know how many dicks I’ve seen?”
You groan. “Spare me the details, please.”
“But this is what you wanted, right?” You shrug, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t play coy now. You’ve been lusting after this kid for months like a weirdo. So why are you stressed?”
“Because!” you huff, frustrated. “It’s— it’s out of order. It’s not like he chose to get naked in front of me specifically, he obviously just thought it was going to be a roomful of strangers. And it seemed like maybe we could be friends or something, but now I don’t know if I should keep pursuing that or just leave him alone. I want to be respectful, but I don’t want him to think I took one look at his penis and decided I didn’t like him anymore, but then it’s like, how do I hold a conversation when he and I both know I have seen his penis, not only seen but studied it, drawn it, and will continue to, weekly, in detail, from multiple angles—“
“You are absolutely overthinking this,” Yoongi laughs into his glass of wine, downing the rest before he continues. “Just get on the fucking train and say hi like a normal, well-adjusted human. This is my advice to you.”
You sigh as you shove a roasted potato in your mouth. “At least you’re a good cook.”
“I’m a great cook,” Yoongi corrects you as he gets to his feet. “Now help me with these dishes.”
~*~
Yoongi’s advice continues to echo in your brain as you lapse back into something like normalcy for the rest of the week.
When the day of your studio class rolls around again, you find yourself hustling not to miss the train, having hit snooze on your alarm a few too many times that morning. You fly down the subway steps just as the 6 is pulling into the station, and you try to ignore the way your pulse is already quickening, telling yourself it’s just from rushing and nothing else.
Pulling the strap of your bag up on your shoulder, you make it to the platform just as the train doors slide open, and your heart instantly leaps into your throat. There he is, leaning against a pole, overwhelmingly beautiful as ever. Park Jimin.
He’s scrolling through something on his phone and hasn’t yet looked up to notice you, and you find yourself frozen in place, jostled angrily by commuters exiting and boarding the train on either side of you.
Panic floods your veins. There’s no time to talk yourself off the ledge, no time to remember Yoongi’s words of wisdom, no time to do anything but make a snap decision. So you do the only thing that feels right: you turn around and sprint back up the stairs and out of the subway station.
The sidewalk is equally bustling, and you try to dodge people while you think through what to do despite the way your head is spinning. You were already going to be cutting it close for time today, and you don’t exactly have the disposable income for a taxi or an Uber. As you try to settle your racing thoughts, your eyes alight on a rack of Citibikes.
Fuck it. You don’t have a better option. Securing your bag on your back, you quickly scan the code to unlock the bike, then shove your phone in your pocket and swing your leg over the seat.
You’ve never biked in Manhattan traffic before, but it can’t be that difficult, you tell yourself. Definitely easier than sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.
Thankfully the street you’re on has a defined bike path, and you do your best to follow the flow of traffic, squeezing your hand brakes to slow to a stop when you hit a red light. It’s been years since you’ve ridden a bike that wasn’t stationary, but it comes back to you relatively easily, like— well, riding a bike.
When you hit a long stretch of green lights, you do your best to pick up speed, trying to make up for lost time. An approaching red light threatens to slow you down again, and you breathe a sigh of relief as it flips to green at the last possible second.
Just as your front tire rolls into the intersection, a deafening car horn nearly gives you a heart attack. You instinctively slam your grip tight around your brakes, and your bike screeches to a halt so fast you’re almost flung over the handlebars. A taxi just barely veers around you as it plows down the intersecting avenue, and you gasp for air, adrenaline coursing through your system.
Holy shit.
You drop one foot to the ground for leverage as you try to get your pulse back under control— you’re pretty sure you just saw your life flash before your eyes. Reality feels a million miles away, but you’re vaguely aware of someone shouting after the car as it speeds down the street.
“Fucking asshole!”
It takes a few seconds for you to realize that it’s a familiar voice, and when you do, you whip around as best you can with a bike between your legs.
“Yoongi?!”
“Oh my god,” Yoongi groans, knuckles blanching as he presses down on his own brakes. “What the fuck are you doing?”
You squint, taking in the helmet strapped over his wavy dark hair and the insulated bag tucked into the basket on the front of his bike. “Since when do you deliver food?”
He grimaces, speaking up to be heard over the noise of traffic. “I just do it to make extra money when my hours suck.”
“What about the coffee shop?”
He shakes his head. “They only have me opening Mondays and Wednesdays right now.”
“What about the bar?”
“That’s just weekends, reliably. Sometimes extra evenings, but only if someone calls out.”
“What about the—”
“Christ, woman!” Yoongi cuts you off with a growl. “The food’s gonna get cold if I have to sit here and run through my entire résumé with you! Are you alright? Why aren’t you taking the subway?”
“Because!” you snap back. “There is a man on that train whose dick I’ve seen and I… I don’t know how to handle it! Okay?!” Though you don’t intend to raise your voice, it comes out loud enough that a group of high school kids on their phones exchange stifled giggles as they fast-walk around you.
“Well you need to be fucking careful,” Yoongi chides. “Biking in the city is not for the faint of heart. And if I’m not allowed to give in to my suicidal ideation, you’re not allowed to crack your head open on the pavement all because you’re trying to avoid a penis.”
“Fine,” you spit back through gritted teeth. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.” You push off the asphalt, legs still shaking a little with excess nerves as you re-find your balance and make your way cautiously through the intersection.
The rush of wind in your ears isn’t quite loud enough to drown out Yoongi calling after you as you bike away. “It’s only weird if you make it weird!”
When you somehow make it to Astor Place in one piece, you dock your bike and quickly sprint to the building, well aware that you’re already late. It’s only once you push the studio door open that you realize how truly frazzled and out of breath you are, and though you keep your gaze fixed on the floor, you can feel every pair of eyes in the room on you. You hold a hand up in an apologetic wave and hurry to find your seat.
Trying to collect yourself, you begin to unpack your materials as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the class. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear Kim Taehyung’s voice beside you.
“You’re sweaty. Why are you so sweaty?”
He’s got an eyebrow cocked when you look over, and you give him the most powerful death glare you can muster, enough that it must actually scare him. “Shutting up now,” Taehyung murmurs, voice shaking slightly as he returns to his own sketches, and you huff an exhale as you attempt to catch up to the rest of the group.
Class passes surprisingly quickly once you manage to get your breath back, much in the same way it did the week prior: you do your best to compartmentalize the body in front of you from the human person you have a giant, embarrassing crush on. It goes decently well in the moments where Jimin is frozen in a fixed pose, just lines and curves and light and shadow for you to emulate. During the breaks when he comes alive again, you hide out behind your easel, trying to ignore Taehyung’s inane bullshit and wishing you could disappear entirely.
The second your professor dismisses everyone for the day, you stuff your things back into your bag, hoping to once again speed-walk out of the room.
But despite your better judgment, you can’t help yourself this time. As you get to your feet, you glance up to watch Jimin pull his dressing gown back on, only to realize his eyes are already on you.
You’re distinctly aware of how much of a mess you must look from biking over, and the fact that you almost assuredly smudged charcoal on your face when you reached up absentmindedly to scratch an itch mid-sketch.
Jimin’s plush lips turn up in the smallest of smiles, and the bottom drops out of your stomach.
With a hard swallow, you avert your gaze from his, sling your bag over your shoulder, and quickly make your escape through the studio door. You can feel your pulse pounding in your throat even after he’s out of your sight, and your hands shake like a leaf all the way to your next class.
~*~
That night, sleep evades you until the early hours of the morning, and it feels like you’ve only just begun to doze off when the harsh noise of your alarm pulls you up from dreaming. You roll over in bed and glare accusingly at your phone, then shut it off, promptly letting the waves drag you under once more, seminar be damned.
It’s nearly noon when you finally make it out of bed and stumble into the living room in your sweats. Namjoon is curled up in his reading chair, a feat for someone of his size, surrounded as always by his massive stack of ever-changing ‘to read’ books. He glances up from the one that’s open on his lap, clearly surprised to see you.
“No class?” Namjoon’s voice is rough-edged, like he’s only just woken up himself.
“Skipped,” you grunt. His eyes track you as you cross the room and collapse face-first onto the couch.
“Is this about the penis?”
The cushion muffles your groan. “Not you too.”
You hear the distinct fluttering sound of Namjoon closing his book and shifting in his seat to give you his undivided attention. “Seems like you want to talk about it.”
You turn your head to the side to take in your roommate. “Maybe. Are you gonna give me the same stupid advice your boyfriend did?”
He smiles softly, one dimple flexing at the corner of his mouth. “I can try to be gentler.”
You huff as you flip onto your side, pressing your palms together and slipping them under your cheek. “Sounds like you’ve got the details already, so please. Enlighten me. Tell me how I’m supposed to handle seeing this guy naked once a week in the name of art.”
“Didn’t William Blake say ‘Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed’?” Namjoon poses it like a serious question, brow creased as if in contemplation, and you roll your eyes.
“I don’t know, Joon, did he? I said enlighten me, not write me a thesis.” You reach up to grab a couch pillow and fling it in his direction, missing by several inches. “Did Blake have anything in there on dealing with a naked crush and trying not to make it weird as fuck?”
“Well, does he seem weirded out by it?” Namjoon counters, patient as ever.
“I don’t know.” You shrug unsurely as you play back your last interaction with Jimin. “He smiled at me yesterday, at the end of class.”
Namjoon steeples his fingers together, leaning forward slightly in his chair, interest clearly piqued. “Okay, and what did you do?”
You squeeze your eyes shut. “I… threw all my shit in my bag and ran out of the room.” When you crack an eye open again, you can see Namjoon trying and failing to keep the smug smile off his face, his dimples giving him away.
“Maybe you could try smiling back next time?” he gently suggests.
You sigh, because you know he’s right. “You make it sound so easy. What’s next? You’re going to tell me to talk to him?”
He laughs a little. “I’d quote another poet, but I fear you might launch more projectiles at me.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Let’s hear it, nerd.”
Namjoon clears his throat for dramatic effect before launching into a recitation. “‘It’s cool, not tryna put a rush on you / I had to let you know, that I got a crush on you.’”
There’s a wide grin on his face as you sit all the way up. “Did you just quote Biggie Smalls at me?”
“Hey, I appreciate all forms of poetry.”
You feign annoyance, but you can’t quite hide the smile beneath it, and you get to your feet as Namjoon continues to mumble a verse of Crush on You under his breath. “Whatever. I need to do laundry.”
“Oh—” Namjoon pauses to interrupt himself. “Lucky’s closed, by the way.”
Already halfway out of the living room, you whip around again at the mention of the laundromat you’ve been exclusive with for the last few years. “What?”
He nods solemnly. “Me and Yoongi found out the hard way last week. They’re putting in an Equinox.”
Your face twists in disgust. “A stupid bougie gym?! You’ve got to be kidding me. Where am I supposed to wash my fucking clothes?”
“We found a place a few blocks up. Quick Clean, or something like that.” Namjoon shifts to dig his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send you the address. It’s not bad, just a little more expensive.”
“This is such bullshit,” you groan as you stomp back into your bedroom, the day already off to a terrible start.
In a gentrification-induced rage, you angrily shove the contents of your overflowing laundry hamper into the giant yellow IKEA bag hung up in your closet, just barely managing to fit it all. Glancing at the mirror on the back of the door, you briefly consider changing out of your sweats, or at the very least doing something with your hair, but you shrug it off— it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone at the damn laundromat.
You grab your headphones off your desk and sling them around your neck, double-check that your sketchbook is still tucked into your bag, then lug everything out to the front hallway. You pull your slides off the shoe rack and slip your socked feet into them.
“Bye, nerd!” you call over your shoulder to Namjoon before the front door slams shut behind you.
By the time you make it to the weird new laundromat, you’re sweaty and pissed off. You knew the walk to Lucky’s by heart, but you had to do this one while looking down at your phone GPS and trying not to get hit by a car. Not an easy feat while carrying every article of clothing you own over one shoulder.
You miss the way the nice old man who owned Lucky’s would greet you warmly and sneak you a cup of coffee from his pot in the back, the way his cat would roll over on the front counter for belly rubs, the way there was always a deeply entertaining telenovela playing on the ancient tiny TV.
The stupid Quick Clean has none of these things, just a shitty pile of magazines in the seating area and weirdly sticky floors. You slam into the front door a little harder than is necessary to push it open, the bell tinkling violently overhead as you enter. The only compliment you can give the place is that it’s relatively dead, save for a couple people on their phones or half-asleep in chairs as they wait on their stuff, and two guys in the corner loading armfuls of wet clothes into a pair of dryers.
You grab a machine a respectful distance away from them and swing the door open when a laugh that’s nearly musical gives you pause. Unable to shake a sense of familiarity, you glance over at your neighbors again, just in time to see one of them reach up to run a hand through his honey blonde hair.
Your IKEA bag hits the sticky floor with an audible thud as panic kickstarts your heart.
This isn’t fucking happening. Of all the laundromats in New York City, you did not just manage to stumble into the one currently being used by Park Jimin.
But even before you can catch a glimpse of his profile, you’re already certain it can’t be anyone else. You’ve spent too much time familiarizing yourself with the slope of his neck, the definition of his forearms, his dainty hands. There’s no mistaking them, adorned today with several silver rings that catch the dim fluorescent light as he grabs more of his clothes from the washer.
The desperate need to turn around and run rises up in your chest, just as before, but this time you steel yourself. You can’t keep running away forever— particularly not when you pulled on your last clean pair of underwear this morning.
A rush of heat floods your face at the thought of the many pairs of underwear in your bag that will soon be sent spinning around this washing machine, where Jimin could easily see, but then it occurs to you that you have seen his penis. Maybe the trade-off will put you on slightly more equal footing.
But you really don’t need to be thinking about Park Jimin’s penis in this laundromat right now.
Shaking your head slightly to try and banish the thought, you set about your laundry routine, trying not to drop any unmentionables on the floor when you dump the contents of your tote into the washer. You dig quarters out of your bag and slot them into the machine, then press the button to start the cycle.
With a final exhale to steady yourself, you turn to look over your shoulder again, only to find Jimin leaning up against the empty dryer next to his, unabashedly watching you with a small smile on his face.
It occurs to you now that you couldn’t have put less effort into your appearance if you tried, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of every random stain on your sweatpants and your extremely fashionable socks and slides combination. Jimin’s just in a white t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans today, but literally everything looks fresh off the runway on him. You suppress the urge to walk out the door and go lay down in traffic, and instead take Namjoon’s advice: you smile back and even lift your hand in a shy wave.
You drop into an empty chair across from your machine and watch as Jimin starts to cross the room to join you, his eyes never leaving yours. Before he can make it, you suddenly become aware of someone else sliding into the seat beside you.
“You didn’t tell me she was cute, Jimin-ah!”
Eyes wide, you turn to see Jimin’s friend sprawled out next to you, one arm draped lazily over the back of your chair. His wavy dark hair peeks out from under a lime green beanie, and he’s swimming in an oversized long sleeve tucked into baggy pants, cinched tight at the waist with a Gucci belt.
“Jung Hoseok,” he gives you a nod. “Friends call me Hobi. You can call me whatever you like.” The way his wide smile pulls his mouth heart-shaped makes you giggle a little, slightly dazed by whatever the fuck is happening right now.
You hear Jimin sigh as he takes the open seat on your other side. “Please ignore Hoseok’s tendency to come on way too strong. If it makes you feel any better, he’s as gay as they come.”
Hoseok flicks his wrist just so. “Guilty as charged.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” you say with a shrug, your gaze flitting from Jimin to Hoseok and back again. “I have two gay roommates, so.”
Hoseok hums, clearly interested. “Gay together or gay separately?”
“Gay together.”
He narrows his eyes. “Open to a third?”
You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected question. “Uh, I’d have to ask.”
He looks like he’s going to say more, but Jimin interjects. “Hoseok— can we get a minute?”
Hoseok’s lips pull together, fish-like, and he nods as he gets to his feet. “Say no more. I’ll just, uh…” He fumbles, looking around for something to do, then crosses the room to take the open seat next to the sad pile of magazines. “…do a little light reading.” He picks up one at the top of the stack, holding it up for you both to witness. “Oh look, the queen died!”
You bite down on your bottom lip to suppress another laugh, but Jimin’s face is surprisingly serious when you look back at him. “I just want to say one thing,” he murmurs, voice low, “and then I’ll leave you alone.”
Nerves settle in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight. “Jimin,” you start, and when he opens his mouth to keep talking, you blurt out the first thing you can think of.
“I’m sorry,” you say in unison, and there’s a beat where you both blink, equally taken aback by the other’s apology. It’s quiet apart from the rumble of the laundry machines and the distinct sound of Hoseok smacking the magazine over his mouth, clearly more invested in your plot line.
You break the silence first. “Wait, why are you sorry?”
Jimin’s eyes drop down to the floor, one black boot toeing nervously at the tile. “I figured you were upset with me because I didn’t warn you.”
Your eyes widen in surprise when you play your initial conversation back. “Oh my god— when I said graduate studio art, you… you knew.”
He nods, somewhat remorseful. “I was kind of hoping that maybe it would be a different class, but. Yeah. I figured. I’m really sorry, I should’ve—”
“No, no,” you interrupt. “I get it. I’m not mad, obviously I didn’t even put it together until right now.” You pause for a second and can’t help but smile a little. “And, I mean, how do you just casually work that into your first conversation with someone? ‘Great talking to you, ready to see my dick in five minutes?’”
Jimin’s head tips back when he laughs, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. “Right.”
You can feel your own face grow hot as you realize what you’ve just said. “God, sorry, I didn’t mean to— clearly I don’t know how to handle this. That’s why I wanted to apologize, for avoiding you and being weird.” You twist your hands uncomfortably in your lap. “I’ve just never been in this situation before, and I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to talk given… the…” Every cell in your body screams at you not to say the word ‘dick’ again. “Yeah. I thought it might be easier to keep my distance. Keep it separate.”
Jimin’s eyes drift back up to find yours, and his casual beauty is so stunning, it’s enough to knock the air out of your lungs. He shrugs softly. “I mean, maybe it would be. But I don’t want to.”
“Great,” you manage a laugh, still breathless. “Because I nearly died on a Citibike the day I didn’t take the subway.”
He laughs, too. “Not gonna lie, I missed seeing you on the train.” You’re not expecting it when he extends a hand out. “Friends?”
You realize belatedly that he’s offering a handshake, and you gently take his hand in yours. His skin is soft and warm, a contrast to the cool metal of his rings that press into your palm as he squeezes.
“Friends,” you echo with a smile, squeezing back.
There’s a sudden thump and a cackle as Hoseok falls out of his chair with a peal of laughter. “You are so fucking weird, Jimin-ah!” he gasps from his spot on the floor. “Who shakes hands?!”
The two of them keep you more than entertained until the buzzers on their dryers sound a second apart from each other. You learn that Hoseok and Jimin are roommates, that they met as dance majors in their undergrad program, and that Hoseok now works as an adjunct instructor and freelance choreographer.
“Because some of us decided we wanted to actually make money instead of digging ourselves further into debt,” he explains with a sly grin and smack delivered to the back of Jimin’s head.
You watch as they meticulously fold, Hoseok regularly leaning over to redo Jimin’s work and chide him about wrinkles, and then they stack the clean laundry back into their bags and head for the exit.
“Bye, new friend!” Hoseok calls as he maneuvers the door open with his foot, and Jimin pauses at the threshold, the bell overhead tinkling gently.
“So… guess I’ll see you on the train?” he asks, like he’s still a little unsure, and your heartbeat flutters.
“Guess so.”
“Cool.” He gives you one last soft smile before he disappears after Hoseok. The bell sounds again when the door shuts behind him, as if to snap you back to reality.
The floating feeling in your stomach doesn’t quite dissipate even long after Jimin has left the laundromat. While you wait on your clothes, you flip to a blank page in your sketchbook and start on something new: the outline of a hand extended in mid-air, rings glinting like an offered promise.
~*~
The next week, Jimin is waiting for you on your morning subway ride, the dance bag that he usually keeps tucked between his legs set on the bench next to him. When he sees you step through the train doors at 51st, you watch him reach over to swing the bag down to its rightful place on the floor, freeing up the space. An open invitation.
You can’t help but feel a little shy as you sink down next to him and murmur your thanks. There’s something about being this close to him that just makes your mind go blank, puts you at a loss for words entirely.
To your surprise, he doesn’t try to strike up conversation either. Instead he plucks one fancy bluetooth earbud out of his ear, gives it a diplomatic swipe across the fabric of his joggers, then holds it up, pinched between his fingers in front of you.
Another invitation, you realize dumbly.
The corner of your mouth turns up as you pluck the bud out of his hand and press it into your own ear. The music that must have paused itself upon the earbud’s removal resumes, and your smile grows when Jimin quickly unlocks his phone to restart the song from the beginning.
An acoustic guitar and a light, pretty voice fill your ear, underscored by a gentle yet driving beat, not unlike the rumble of the train beneath your feet. It’s like the rest of the world fades away to nothing as you stare down at his sneakers next to your shoes, hyper-aware of the mere inch or two of space between you in this moment.
As if to prove your point, the train comes to a sharp stop, enough to make you slide a little on the bench and then you’re suddenly not just close but touching, all the way down, an unbroken line from shoulder to hip to knee.
When you look over in surprise, Jimin is already looking back at you. You swear you can feel warmth radiating out from him at every point where your bodies press together.
After another dazed moment, you come to your senses enough to scoot over, breaking the contact with an embarrassed laugh as you feel your face grow hot.
Your gaze drifts back down to the floor, only to snap up again at another brush of contact, this one not initiated by you or by the motion of the train. Instead, you realize Jimin has spread his legs an inch wider to purposefully touch his knee to yours again and leave it there. You blink softly as you look over at him, but he’s staring firmly out the window of the subway car now, smiling with just his eyes.
For the rest of the ride, you think of little else but Jimin’s knee pressed against yours and the pretty pink flush in his cheeks.
You stay in comfortable silence, music floating in your ears as you exit the train at Astor Place together, until you reach the studio, where you finally return the borrowed earbud. He smiles as he tucks them both back into the case, then pushes open the door and gestures for you to enter first.
Jimin shoots you a final look before your paths diverge, and you sink into your seat with a small, dreamy sigh. Your bliss is short-lived when you hear Taehyung’s voice over your shoulder.
“That was fast.”
You whip around to shoot him a look. “What was fast?”
He makes a face, like it’s obvious. “You’re already banging the model and it’s been, what, two weeks?”
Taehyung’s just close enough that you can lean forward and smack him on the arm, and he hisses in a way that has to be an exaggeration. Thankfully he seems to take the hint, and manages to actually keep his mouth shut as the professor commands everyone’s attention at the center of the room.
When Jimin emerges in the usual black satin, you try to keep your composure, but you can’t ignore the chill that dots up your spine when he lets the fabric fall to the floor.
Nevertheless, you sink into the routine of class, the thrill of Jimin’s naked body now equal parts familiar and exhilarating. The only difference is that today, when you’re dismissed, you make no effort to quickly pack up. You instead purposefully take your time, adding a few extra details to your last sketch before you finally start putting things away. Your gaze flickers up distractedly to see Jimin pulling his dressing gown back over his body as he moves to close the distance between you.
“Hi,” he says simply when he reaches your easel, and you smile.
“Hi.”
“Sorry, is, uh— is it okay that I talk to you, when I’m—” He gestures vaguely to his lower half with one hand, using the other to keep himself covered.
You swallow hard at the thin layer of fabric and everything you know lies beneath it. “Yeah, it’s okay,” you say, hating how breathless you sound.
“When are you done with classes today?”
It takes an extra second for you to remember your own schedule. “Uh, six.”
Jimin fidgets with the satin material in his hands, clearly a little uncomfortable. Or maybe nervous. “Would you… want to get dinner after? With me?”
Your stomach flutters as you nod. “Yeah, yes. I’d like that.”
~*~
When you emerge from your last class, you find Jimin waiting for you on Astor Place, and you’re not expecting it when he greets you with a single question: “Do you like sushi?” You answer affirmatively, and he nods over his shoulder. “Then let’s walk this way.”
You end up tucked into two seats at a place you’ve never been to before, where rolls and other plates of food zip past you on a steadily moving conveyor belt. Jimin shows you how to pop the plates out from their protective domes, and you gather a small feast of options on the table between you to share.
“So,” you start with a nervous smile, chopsticks hovering in midair. “Can I ask the obvious question?”
He quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”
“What made you decide to nude model?” The words alone send fresh waves of heat and nerves through you, sparkling in your chest. “Or have you done it before?”
“I haven’t,” Jimin confirms with a shake of his head, then he pops a piece of sushi in his mouth as if to buy himself time. He chews, bringing a hand up as he speaks with his mouth still half-full. “Do you want the real answer?”
You nod, and his adam’s apple jerks as he swallows. There’s a look on his face like he isn’t quite sure what to say, and then he exhales a weighty sigh. “I’ve struggled with my body for a really long time. Especially in undergrad.”
Your eyes widen slightly— you weren’t expecting such a serious response.
“Dance doesn’t typically have the best culture for that to begin with,” he continues, “and I’d spend literally all day staring at myself in a mirror, so I would just… pick myself apart. Always convinced I wasn’t good enough, that I needed to lose more weight, always.”
The thought of it makes your heart ache, but you let him talk.
“I’m through the worst of it now, so please don’t feel like you need to be worried. But I have some friends who’ve done this kind of thing before and it seemed like, I don’t know, a good challenge?” His brow creases, contemplative. “I really love art, so I thought maybe if I did it, I might be able to see my body in a new way, through the eyes of other people. Of artists.” He pauses, then nods, like he’s said his piece.
It takes you a second to respond. “That’s… beautiful, Jimin.”
He looks down, clearly a little uncomfortable. “Sorry if that was too heavy.”
“I can take it,” you say softly, and it’s enough to make him glance back up in surprise. “Thank you for telling me.”
A faint color floods his face. “Thanks for listening.”
You eat in a silence that’s oddly comfortable, and when you both reach for the same piece of sushi and end up knocking chopsticks together, he lets you have it, picking up the thread of conversation again as he smiles. “What got you into art?”
You make a face, chased by an unsure shrug. “Is it bad if I say it’s the only thing I feel like I’m good at?”
Jimin laughs a little. “I don’t know that I believe you.”
“I mean,” you lean back in your seat. “Maybe not the only thing, but I’ve just never been able to see myself doing anything else. I’m not cut out for the corporate life, as much as my parents wish I was. Art’s always been the thing that I go to in my free time. When I’m feeling so much that it’s overwhelming, or so numb that it’s like I can’t feel anything, the act of creating something just… brings me back to center again.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s an outlet, I guess.”
“Well, if it helps, you’re very good at it.”
“Thanks,” you say with a small smile. “But it’s not even about being good, at least not to me. Maybe it sounds weird, but I don’t really have any interest in being the best. It’s art, so it’s all subjective anyway. I just wanna make stuff.”
Jimin smirks as he adds another empty plate to the growing stack in front of you, tongue poking briefly at the inside of his cheek before he speaks. “I could stand to be more like you.”
“Your turn,” you shoot back. “Why dance?”
At this, he actually brings a hand up to cover his face, and his voice is muffled under his palm when he responds. “I can tell you exactly why, but it’s embarrassing.”
You shift a little in your chair to get a better look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed! It’s not like I—” you cut yourself off before you can very obviously finish the sentence with ‘haven’t seen your dick’, and you shove a piece of sushi in your mouth to shut yourself up, so fast you nearly choke.
Jimin laughs loudly into his hands, and then you’re laughing too, dropping your head down on the table to try and chew your food without asphyxiating.
“Okay, okay,” he gasps when he can finally manage to take a breath in. “I’ll tell you.”
He sets his chopsticks down, overly serious. “When I was little, I was obsessed with Titanic. Specifically the scene where they dance together, and Rose rises up on her toes in front of everyone.” There are practically stars in his eyes as he recounts the moment, and you can’t bear to cut him off. “I just thought she was so beautiful, and I wanted to be like that. Almost broke my toes trying to go en pointe barefoot like an idiot.”
You’re silent for a moment, and there’s a flicker of panic in Jimin’s face, like he’s worried he overshared. “I have to be honest,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Titanic.”
His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “What?!”
Already expecting the reaction, you grimace and nod. “I know, I know. Everyone gets mad at me for it. Go ahead.”
Jimin’s eyes flit from your face to the remaining piece of sushi on the plate between you, then back again. “I mean, we can go solve this problem right now, if you want.” He pauses, then admits with a giggle, “I have it on DVD.”
You shrug, trying to act casual despite the way your pulse has started to quicken. “They canceled my morning seminar for tomorrow, so I’m down.”
He leans forward to steal the last piece of sushi with a smug smile. “Then let’s get out of here.”
It’s a short train ride back to Jimin’s place, and you make it in the front door just in time to see Hoseok slipping out of what looks to be his bedroom. You barely process him as the same person— tonight his dark hair is swept off his forehead, and he’s in nice dress pants and a white button-down, unbuttoned just enough to display the delicate spread of his collarbone.
“Hi kids!” he calls in greeting, and you wave back as you kick your shoes off.
Hoseok crosses to grab a mirrored pair of aviators and his keys off the table by the front door. “Daddy’s going out. You two have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He pauses for a moment, like he’s waiting for a joke to land, then cracks a grin. “By which I obviously mean do whatever the fuck you want.”
As Hoseok pulls the door shut behind him, you follow Jimin into the living room, where you perch nervously on the edge of the couch while he disappears into the kitchen. “Do you like prosecco?” he asks, raising his voice slightly to be heard.
“Uh, I think so,” you say unsurely. “I don’t think I ever developed enough of a palette to have wine preferences.”
“White and sparkling?”
“Sounds good,” you respond, and then you hear the distinct noise of a cork popping before he returns with a bottle and two glasses in hand. He sets everything on the coffee table as he takes a seat next to you, then leans forward to fill both glasses nearly to the brim.
Jimin’s face flushes when you giggle softly at the pour. “Sorry— I like to drink. You don’t have to finish it all.” You shrug and take a healthy pull from your glass. It’s crisp and light, with little bubbles that fizz and pop all the way down.
“Hoseok calls me a lush,” he admits with a shy laugh as he picks up his own drink and turns to face you, sitting back against the arm of the couch. You shift to mirror him, curling your socked feet up under you. He takes a sip, then seems to think better of it, leaning forward to set his glass down on the table again. “I did want to tell you something. A couple of things, I guess.”
The sentence makes your stomach twist, and you try your best to ignore it. “What’s up?”
Jimin’s lips press together for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word whatever he’s about to say. “I’m not, like, trying to be presumptuous by telling you this but I just— I don’t want it to go unsaid and then come up later and be a whole big thing, so. I just want you to know that Hoseok is my ex.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but certainly not that.
“We dated freshman year of undergrad, for… maybe three months? It was the kind of thing where I knew I was bi in high school but was too scared to act on it, so when I moved to New York I just, like, dated the first gay person I met? Which was probably a little shitty of me. We quickly realized we work much better as friends, and it was a very mutual thing. No hard feelings.”
You nod slowly, trying to keep up. “And you’ve lived together since then?”
“No, no,” Jimin replies quickly, and he nearly grimaces as he continues. “At the end of last semester, I, uh… I got out of a pretty bad long-term relationship.” The way he says it makes your heart sink a little. “And she and I lived together, so Hoseok was extremely gracious and offered to take me in.”
He reaches for his glass of wine again, then pauses with it halfway to his mouth. “Ideally the number of exes I’d be living with would be zero, but. You know. This is definitely the better option, at least until I can figure out what comes next.”
A pause settles between you while he takes a long drink and you try to process all this new information. “I’m sorry about the breakup,” you say softly, and he shakes his head as he swallows.
“Don’t be. It was a very good thing. Long overdue.”
“Well,” you correct yourself, the corners of your mouth pulling up. “Then I’m sorry that it took so long.”
At this, he smiles back. “Me fuckin’ too.”
After one more sip, Jimin sets his wine back down on the coffee table, then rolls off the couch— surprisingly graceful— to retrieve Titanic from the small collection of movies lined up on the shelf beneath the TV.
“Ready?”
“This better have a happy ending,” you murmur over the edge of your wine glass. Jimin laughs so hard he nearly tips over.
He settles next to you again as the movie starts, painted pretty in the blue glow of the TV, and you try your best to watch the movie, but it’s hard to keep your eyes off him. Partway through you notice him grab a pillow off the back of the couch and hug both of his arms around it, curling up small.
Cute, you can’t help but think to yourself, and you can feel heat settle in your face as you try to refocus on the story.
When you reach the dancing scene Jimin sits up a little, lips parting slightly, that same starry look in his eyes as when he explained it initially. The mental image of a younger version of him equally enraptured by the moment nearly makes your chest cave in.
The movie goes on, and you’re draining the last of your second glass of wine when out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin’s eyes go wide. Jack and Rose are closely examining a rare diamond necklace, and you don’t understand what he could be reacting to until Kate Winslet delivers her next line.
“Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.”
Your eyes go just as wide as Jimin’s, and you let out a laugh of disbelief that’s nearly a scream. “Oh my fucking god, Park Jimin! You did this on purpose!”
“I swear, I didn’t! I didn’t even think about that part until right now!” He shakes his head desperately as he gasps for air, and he doubles over with his own laughter, rolling right off the couch, arms still clutched tightly around his pillow.
“I literally cannot believe this.” You dissolve into giggles as you sink to your knees on the floor beside him, close to tears.
It takes time for you both to recover, but Jimin eventually manages to pull himself back up to sitting, shoulders still shaking slightly with laughter. He lets the pillow drop to the floor and presses both of his palms down into it as he leans towards you. “But hey, maybe that’s why I like you.”
He’s so magnetic, so beautiful, you can’t help but lean in, too. “You like me?”
There’s a warm glow of color in his cheeks, and you’re not sure if you can blame it entirely on the wine. “I do.”
Your lingering smile slowly starts to soften, and now your heart feels like it might pound out of your chest. “So what, you’re Rose and I’m Jack?”
His gaze drops to your mouth, his voice barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “Uh-huh”. Imaginary violins swell in your head as you surge forward to close the distance and press your lips to his.
Jimin’s lips are soft and warm, and your head spins as you sit up on your knees and lean into the kiss. While his mouth moves gently against yours, his palms press to the small of your back, and the heat of his hands radiates through the thin fabric of your shirt. You wrap your arms over his shoulders, partially for balance and partially in an attempt to pull him closer to you.
He tilts his head, and you whimper against him when you feel his tongue trace delicately over your bottom lip. He returns a breathy noise back as he licks slowly into your mouth, like he’s taking his time, like he’s not in any rush.
Even though you can feel your arousal starting to build, heavy in your gut and slick between your thighs, you realize: you want him to take his time with you.
You’re surprised at the loss when he suddenly leans back, just enough to break the kiss, still keeping you held close. “Is it, um—” he clears his throat, then tries again. “I don’t… want to go any further. Than this. At least not tonight. Is that okay?”
Your eyes search his, and you’re a little breathless when you manage to get the words out. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m good with that. With whatever you want.”
“Okay.” You exhale a laugh when he reaches over to find the remote on the coffee table and pause the movie. “I want to keep kissing you, if that’s alright.”
“Yes, please,” you murmur against his lips.
Jimin shifts a little, and you follow his lead, letting him tip you backwards onto the floor, your arms still looped around his neck, one hand now tangling in his honey blonde hair. He drops a forearm down to the carpet beside you, his other hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist, knees bracketing your hips as he covers your body with his.
He alternates between sucking on your lower lip and gentle passes of his tongue into your mouth, the hand on your waist tracing a lazy path down to your hip and back up again. Something pulled tight inside you starts to slowly unwind, blooming open as you sink into the rhythm, into him.
It’s been such a long time since you’ve just kissed someone like this, without it feeling like part of a race to get naked. And you’ve never been kissed like this in your life— so soft, so attentive. It’s enough to make you dizzy, even with your back pressed flat to the floor.
You lose track of how much time passes as you trade open-mouthed kisses on Jimin’s living room carpet, until he finally pulls away again. Still in a daze, you shift the hand in his hair to gently cup his face, not quite able to believe that he’s really real.
“God,” Jimin breathes, laughing quietly to himself. “I really like you.”
You smile as you blink up at him. “I like you too, Jimin.”
Rolling over, he drops down onto the floor next to you with a blissed-out sigh. He stretches his arms overhead, spine arching like a cat, then lifts up again to glance back at you. “Do you want more wine? ‘Cause we’re only like halfway done. This movie is stupid long.”
“I could go for more,” you answer with a shrug, still smiling.
In one swift move, Jimin flips his legs over his head and effortlessly somersaults up to standing, and your eyes go wide. “How do you fucking do that?!”
“I’m a trained professional!” he calls over his shoulder as he sashays into the kitchen.
You giggle a little. “I would break every bone in my body.”
He’s humming prettily to himself, and you hear the sound of the fridge opening and closing, followed by the pop of another bottle being uncorked. You pull yourself back onto the couch as he rejoins you and pours fresh wine into both glasses, and a sudden curiosity urges you to ask a question. “Is Titanic your favorite movie?”
Jimin shakes his head, but says nothing, and the strange hesitant expression that flashes over his face just makes you that much more intrigued.
“Let’s hear it.”
His eyes flit over to you, then back to the wine glasses. “You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t!” you exclaim, lifting a hand when he scrunches up his nose, doubtful. “Promise.”
With a reluctant sigh, Jimin sets the bottle back down on the table, staring straight ahead as he admits, “It’s The Notebook.”
You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep your mouth in a straight line. At least you manage not to laugh. “I— wow. Really?”
He nods like the reaction is expected, picking up his wine glass and settling back against the couch cushions. “I don’t know, there’s just something about it. It’s comforting, to me.”
“You’re such a romantic,” you murmur, gently nudging his thigh with your foot until you coax a smile out of him.
“You know what?” Jimin’s voice is thoughtful now, more self-assured. “I am.” He takes a sip of his drink before he continues. “For a long time I didn’t want to be. Or thought that I couldn’t be. I used to always try to be so. I don’t know. Masculine, I guess. I think some of it had to do with denying my sexuality, but even once I got around to accepting that, there was still this part of me that would just never allow myself to be… soft.”
His gaze drops down to the wine in his glass, and you sit up, tucking your legs underneath you to scoot closer to him until you’re side by side. “I like you soft,” you say simply, and he looks over at you, still smiling.
“If we watch The Notebook I will cry.”
“That’s okay.” You lean into him to seek a kiss, made sweet from the wine. He hums a little against your lips before you pull back. “Same time next week?”
~*~
Just like that, you fall into a regular routine with Jimin: sharing his headphones on the morning train, sketching out the shape of his body in studio, then picking up takeout and wine to bring back to his place and split over a movie. As predicted, The Notebook does make him cry, and when you show him Kimi no Na wa the week after, hot tears stream down your face at the final scene, the way they always do.
He takes your head in his hands as the credits roll, his thumbs swiping at errant tears on your cheeks. You chase a sniffle with an embarrassed laugh. “Okay. We’re even now.”
On your fourth movie night, partway into Moulin Rouge, something emboldens you when you see Jimin reach for his usual couch pillow. You lean over and gently pry it out of his grip, then shift to tuck yourself into his side and curl your legs up in his lap instead.
“Better?”
“Mm-hmm”, he murmurs as he ducks down to nuzzle against your cheek. “You’re warm.”
These nights end the same way each time: you ride the train home with a wine-soaked buzz in your brain and flushed, kiss-bitten lips, your fingertips brushing over your own mouth at the memory of his.
Once a week quickly turns into more. The two of you coordinate laundromat afternoons where you listen to music together as you wait for your clothes. You usually end up drawing to pass the time, and sometimes Jimin dozes off, head tipping over onto your shoulder so gently that you can’t help but smile down at your sketchbook.
At his request, you help him dye his hair pink in his tiny apartment bathroom, and it somehow suits him just as well as honey blonde. You both get dizzy from laughter and cleaning product fumes as you desperately try to scrub the bubblegum stains out of the tile before Hoseok comes home.
When you finally introduce Jimin to your roommates, the four of you crammed all-too formally around the kitchen table over Yoongi’s cooking, the interaction feels like a cross between a job interview and a prom date meeting your parents. You choke on a piece of chicken that you nearly inhale when Namjoon offhandedly refers to Jimin as Subway Boy, and Yoongi smiles wide enough to show his gums as he gladly recounts your months-long crush in great detail while you bury your burning face in your arms.
But Jimin takes it in stride, laughs into your mouth as he kisses you over the sink while the two of you wash the dishes.
“Subway Boy, huh?”
“I will drown you,” you murmur as you pull away, brandishing the spray hose like a threat.
It’s easy and slow. This blossoming something, a nameless but undeniable spark, the calm comfort of Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers intertwined with yours, his head dropped down on your shoulder.
~*~
You dig your phone out of your pocket as you shoulder open the door to the dance building, pulling up the text from Jimin to double-check his practice room number. A train delay made you slightly later than your agreed-upon time, but you know the takeout bag of Indian food dangling over your wrist will easily earn you his forgiveness.
It doesn’t surprise you that he’s the only one left in the room when you find it, nor that he’s still reviewing the choreography with an expression of severe focus. You hover in the doorway, waiting for him to look up, but he’s entirely concentrated on his own reflection in the mirror.
His movements alternate between delicate and powerful, explosive and restrained, and you have to hold in an outright gasp when he launches his body into an aerial and lands it effortlessly. But then his feet falter in a split second of hesitation, and you can see his expression tighten, clearly frustrated.
“Fuck,” he mutters to himself as he rubs a hand over his face, and he doesn’t even try to keep going with the rest of the dance. You take the opportunity to step a few more paces into the room, and his eyes jump to you in the mirror.
“Hi,” you say softly, suddenly a little nervous to be intruding on the moment. The corner of Jimin’s mouth turns up, but his eyes seem far away, and you can tell he’s still raging at himself in his mind.
“Hi, sorry,” he sighs. “I just— can’t get this. It’s like my body isn’t doing what I tell it to.”
“You need food.” You try to say it gently as you cross the room, holding up the smiley-face adorned plastic takeout bag. “And perhaps the enigmatic charm of Rachel McAdams.”
This seems to shake him out of his thoughts, at least a little. “I do like her.” He steps close enough to slip his arms around your waist and pull your body flush against his. Sweat glistens on his collarbone in the dim practice room lighting. “But I like you more.”
You roll your eyes as you playfully smack a hand against his solid chest. “Stop lying.”
“‘M not,” he insists as he presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Rachel McAdams has never once brought me masala dosa.” You giggle despite yourself, and when his lips drop down to your neck, it’s enough to make your breath hitch.
A spark ignites in your chest that doesn’t go out, not on the subway ride back to your apartment, not through dinner and a movie, and certainly not once you’re most of the way through the second bottle of wine. As the credits start to roll, you waste no time, turning in Jimin’s lap so you can properly straddle him and take his face in your hands.
You trade decadent, easy kisses, and Jimin’s hands settle at the small of your back, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into your hips. A shiver rolls up your spine when he shifts a little and you realize you can feel a growing bulge through the fabric of his joggers, pressed firm against your thigh. He breathes a soft sound into your mouth as his tongue slides over yours, and you’re so overwhelmed, you barely register the sound of keys in the lock or the front door opening.
It’s Jimin who reacts first, turning his head to break the kiss as his cheeks flood with color, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Yoongi storm past, heading for his room. He lifts a hand up to his face to shield you from view as he goes.
“Don’t stop on my account!” Yoongi’s voice is dripping with derision. “By all means, continue fucking on our shared furniture!”
“We’re fully clothed, asshole!” you snap in response as Yoongi slams the bedroom door behind him, hard enough that it rattles in the frame.
When you look back down at Jimin, his face is twisted in an expression you take to be embarrassment. You drop your head down on his shoulder with a frustrated groan, the moment successfully killed.
“Do you…” you pause, turning your head to the side but continuing to ask your question into the fabric of his shirt. “We could go to my room, for more privacy, if you want?”
He hums his agreement, and when you peel yourself off the couch and head for your room, he follows. You spin back around to face him in the doorway, so fast he nearly knocks into you.
You brace your hands on the doorframe as you survey him. “We really don’t have to… do anything, if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”
Jimin nods, and you step aside to let him enter first, pulling the door closed behind you as you follow. He takes a few tentative steps into the room, and you walk past him to drop down onto the floor next to your bed, then pat the carpet to encourage him to join. There’s a flash of something over his face, and then he sinks down beside you. It’s only now that you realize how quiet he’s gotten.
“What is it?” you ask, suddenly a little nervous.
He stares down at the soles of his feet, pressed into each other, his knees tipped open like butterfly wings. “Does it make you feel bad? That we’re not—”
“No,” you answer immediately, and the honesty of it resonates in your chest.
“I know we’ve been hanging out for a while,” he continues, voice low. “And I do want to, you know. Hook up.”
“Jimin,” you lean forward to place both of your hands over one of his, settled atop his knee. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. When you want to, I want to. But I like everything we’ve been doing, too. It’s not like we’re not… intimate.”
His gaze flits up from the floor to meet yours. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you.”
You close your fingers around his hand, pulling it off his leg and up to your face so you can brush your lips over his palm.
“I don’t think that at all,” you murmur against his skin. “Promise.”
There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes when you look back up at him. “Okay. Sorry, I know it’s stupid. Like why do I need reassurance from you when I’m the one being difficult?”
You press your cheek into the warmth of his hand, toying lazily with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you so convinced that you’re difficult?”
Jimin huffs a small sigh. “This conversation has not gone this well in the past.” His eyes drop to the floor again, and after a moment’s pause, he keeps talking.
“My ex and I struggled a lot with…” he shakes his head, as if he’s trying not to say ‘everything’. “Sex. With me wanting it, with us having enough of it. I think it gave me a complex. I could be physically, you know, ready, but then as soon as she’d touch me I’d get in my head about everything and freak out and immediately want to stop.” He pauses, worrying at his bottom lip.
You pull his hand into your lap, your fingers delicately tracing over his in an attempt to provide some comfort. He shrugs when he starts to speak again. “And then, I don’t know, I guess she was just trying to share her side, but... she would make me feel so bad about it sometimes. Because I was genuinely trying so hard but it was like I was never good enough.” Another pause, and this time he sniffs a little. When his eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling, you can see he’s holding back tears. “It felt like she didn’t want me anymore, not if there wasn’t sex. So I left.”
“Jimin,” you breathe, and he flashes you a small grimace, clearly embarrassed by his own dramatics. With a grunt of effort, he turns sideways and flops backwards onto the floor of your room, and you scoot closer to him, your hand still playing with his.
His gaze roams over the ceiling as he sighs. “I don’t want you to think I was this perfect person and she was some awful bitch. She loved me a lot, and I’m sure she was struggling with not feeling wanted either, in her own way.”
Your voice is soft when you interject. “Two people can just be… incompatible. It doesn’t mean either of them is a bad person, or that it’s anyone’s fault. Sometimes things just don’t work, no matter how hard you try.”
Jimin’s mouth pulls up on one side as he shakes his head, eyes squinting. “How did you get to be so smart?”
You can’t help but laugh a little, lacing your fingers together with his in your lap. “Years of making terrible decisions.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze before you ask a question. “Did you struggle with this before, or just with her?”
His mouth twists slightly, unsure. “Yes and no? Both? My desire has always… fluctuated, I guess. Been a little shy.” A smile spreads over his face, and he hums a note. “Like, you know how people say love at first sight isn’t a thing? That it’s just lust?” You nod, prompting him to continue. “I think, at least for me, it’s the opposite. I can fall for somebody, and fall hard, like that.” He snaps loudly with his free hand. “But lust… I don’t know, it takes longer. It’s like a slow burn thing.”
You nod again, processing his words for a moment before you respond. “Well, I’m in no rush.”
Jimin sits up, voice thoughtful as he untangles his hand from yours, and it’s clear he’s getting more comfortable opening up to you. “Right after the breakup, I did a lot of research. I found this term, demisexual, that felt pretty accurate.” He shrugs. “But I don’t know. I mostly just think that... I am who I am. And the people who get it will get it. Like you.”
Before you can even speak, he sweeps an arm under your calves to drag you into his lap in one swift move, and you squeak a little in surprise as your world tilts.
“Demisexual. I like it,” you giggle as he guides your legs to wrap around his middle. His hands slide up your thighs, grabbing at your hips to tug you closer so he can trail kisses along your neck.
“Biromantic demisexual, technically,” he murmurs, head tipping up to find your mouth again.
You drape your arms over his shoulders and hum against his lips as he kisses you. “It suits you.”
Another soft noise escapes you when Jimin manages to maneuver to standing with you still in his arms. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and your legs around his waist, and his hands shift down to your ass to firmly hold you up. You squeeze your eyes shut automatically in fear of being dropped, then flutter them open again when you feel your back press into the soft cushion of your bedspread.
Jimin is hovering over you, forearms dropped down to the bed on either side of you. His eyes search yours for a moment, and then he leans in to kiss you again, so fiercely this time that it leaves you breathless. You can’t help but whimper as his tongue slips into your mouth.
When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to your collarbone with a groan. “It’s late,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over your neck. “I should go.”
You nod responsibly, despite how desperately you want him to stay.
You walk him out, and his sweet parting kiss leaves your heart hammering in your chest, enough that you slump against the frame with a sigh once you shut the door, your knees suddenly weak.
Light on your feet, you follow the faint noise of the TV to find Yoongi in the living room with Planet Earth on at a barely audible volume. He glances at you, his mouth a flat line, then reaches for the remote to turn the sound up a few notches. You drop down on the couch next to him, and it’s silent for a moment, save for the calm narration and the crinkling plastic of him tearing open a bag of Turtle Chips.
“How’d it go?” he finally asks, voice monotone.
“It’s good,” you answer softly. “We’re good.” You fold your legs up under yourself and sneak a look at Yoongi out of the corner of your eye. You’re still a little pissed, but you also want advice. Damn him for knowing everything.
“Have you heard the term ‘demisexual’ before?”
Yoongi nods, still chewing as he replies. “Yeah. Like asexual spectrum, right?”
You shrug. “I guess. It’s new to me.”
He shoves a few more chips in his mouth before he continues. “Is that what your Subway Boy is?”
“I think so, yeah.”
There’s a long pause while you watch penguins march across the screen, and you think that might be the end of it. Then Yoongi clears his throat. “You know, I’m somewhere in there too. Not completely asexual, but definitely not… not.”
Your eyes widen. “Really?”
Yoongi snorts. “Don’t act so shocked. These walls aren’t that thick.”
“Is Joon?”
He smirks, like you’ve just told a joke. “Decidedly not.”
“Oh.” You blink, trying to process. “How do you deal with it?”
Yoongi makes a face, like he’s never thought about it before. “We just communicate, I guess. Be respectful even when we don’t necessarily understand. And, like, Namjoon watches porn, and surprisingly reads quite a bit of erotica—”
“Okay, okay,” you cut him off. “I don’t need all the details.”
He huffs a dry laugh at your discomfort. “It’s not always easy, sometimes it’s frustrating for both of us. But we make it work. We love each other.”
You chew a little at the inside of your cheek, and then you can’t hold in the question any longer. “Is it weird that the idea doesn’t bother me? Jimin said it was a huge issue with his ex. Like, does that make me on the… spectrum?”
Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, you might be? But not necessarily? I don’t know, sex matters different amounts to everyone. Some people don’t mind not having it that often. You don’t have to put a label on it unless you want to, you know?”
“Yeah, makes sense.” You nod slowly as you digest the idea. “Thanks, Yoongi. I appreciate the education.”
His only answer at first is a noncommittal hum, and then he points a finger at the few inches of wine in the bottle you left sitting on the coffee table. “Gonna finish that?”
“It’s all yours,” you say. “Consider it atonement for going to first base on the couch.”
Yoongi grabs the bottle by the neck and immediately drains it. “Apology accepted,” he grunts as he sets it back down. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He extends his bag of chips in your direction and you happily reach in for the biggest handful you can manage.
~*~
During your next movie night, Jimin can’t keep his hands to himself.
They pet up your thighs, your legs draped over his, then slide up to your hips, fingertips tracing patterns over the waistband of your leggings and toying at the hem of your shirt.
His mouth has a similar problem: he leans in to press kisses along the line of your jaw, then down the slope of your neck, sucking delicately at the spot that makes your nipples tighten and sends a shiver through you.
“You’re missing the movie,” you remark, raking a hand through his peachy-pink hair, shadowed at the roots where his natural color has started to grow in. He’s typically good about keeping himself restrained until the credits roll, but you’re barely halfway through Pride & Prejudice, haven’t even cracked a second bottle yet.
“Fuck the movie,” he growls against your skin, and you bite back a whimper when his teeth scrape over your neck. You can’t ignore the way your core is starting to ache from his insistent mouth.
His lips find yours again, and you giggle softly into him. “You’re in a mood.”
“Just been thinking about you,” he murmurs between kisses. It surprises you a little when he suddenly pulls back so he can look you in the eyes. “Should we— do you want to go to my room?”
The air hangs still and heavy between you, and you worry at your bottom lip for a moment. “Are you sure?” When he nods, dark brown eyes blinking up at you, your mouth turns up at the corner. “I’d rather we not traumatize any more roommates if we can help it.”
You lean over to pause the movie before sliding off his lap and getting to your feet, and then you reach your hands out for his and pull him up next to you. “Come on.”
Jimin’s bedroom is so perfectly him that it relaxes you, feather-soft comfort every time you step inside. His bed isn’t made, because it never is, the thick white duvet pushed down on one side where he stumbled out from beneath it this morning. He keeps it dark, blackout curtains drawn to support his night owl lifestyle, and the room is bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights he’s strung up along the ceiling. A myriad of posters and art prints and polaroids are taped to the walls, some beautiful, others sentimental— he even managed to coax you into tearing a few of his favorites out of your sketchbook. You still don’t think they’re anything special, but nevertheless, it makes your heart squeeze in your chest to see them on display with everything else. Like they belong here in this room, like you do too.
The door clicks as it shuts behind him, and then his mouth is on yours again, kissing you dizzy while he backs you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He guides you to lay down, and his hand slips beneath you to drag you up the bed with him as he crawls over you.
His hands come up to tug at your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he breathes.
You nod, staring up at him and not quite able to believe any of this is real. “You can do anything you want to me.” With a smile, he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you sit up a little so he can pull it the rest of the way off.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Jimin murmurs against your skin as he kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, then down between the valley of your breasts. His hands slip down to palm at your tits, squeezing gently, and he mouths at the stiff peaks of your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette. You untangle briefly, only for as long as it takes to get the lacy thing off of you entirely and tossed over the edge of the bed.
You shiver a little as the air hits your bare skin, and then the warmth of his body covers you again, and he ducks down to close his mouth over your nipple and suck. The plush softness of his lips and the firm suction combined are enough to make your eyes roll back, and your spine arches up beneath him when he drags his tongue in a circle over the sensitive bud.
“Shit,” you groan. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, and it feels like your only tether to reality.
It’s easy to believe it’s the waiting, the anticipation of this moment, that makes every little touch light you up like a live wire now. But something tells you it will always feel like this.
While his lips shift to your other breast, one hand slides down to cup your clothed pussy, rubbing gentle friction into your center. You circle your hips to press yourself against the flat of his palm, sighing at the brush of indirect contact and the heat that thrums through you from the pressure on your clit.
You feel Jimin’s weight shift on the mattress as he kneels next to you, and his lips find yours again at the same time his hand slips into your leggings, two fingers tracing the seam of your panties to make you whine softly. If he couldn’t tell before, he must be able to now: how wet you are, enough to drench the lacy fabric so it clings to your cunt, dripping arousal to show how badly you want him.
He’s surprisingly forceful when he tugs the damp fabric to the side, but so gentle again as he slips one finger and then a second into your tight heat. Your mouth drops open as he curls them up to rub at your g-spot, stroking into you over and over while your cunt squeezes tight around him.
Your head drops back on the pillow and you groan. “Oh, fuck, Jimin.”
You can hear how soaked your pussy is as he pumps into you, and the wet squelch of his fingers working inside you would make you shy if it didn’t feel so overwhelmingly perfect. The pleasure edges your breathing with soft sounds, and Jimin swallows them when he kisses you again.
He shifts slightly for a better angle and then you feel the heel of his palm grind down against your clit. It’s enough to make your hips buck up under him with every press of his hand, his insistent touch shooting sparks of arousal through you.
It’s been so long since anyone has touched you, and you’ve wanted this with him so badly for so long, but even still, it surprises you how quickly he can bring you to the edge.
“Jimin,” you break the kiss to gasp against his mouth, unable to believe how close you already are. Close enough that all you can do is cling, to any part of him you can reach: his hair, his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt. “Jimin, Jimin, fuck.”
“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” he groans, and he says the next part softer, like it’s just for him. “My girl looks so pretty on my fingers.”
The pace of his movements doesn’t falter, nor does the heavy weight of his palm as he ducks down to capture your nipple in his mouth again. Your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in to the last knuckle with each thrust of his hand, and your nails dig desperately into his forearm as you feel your orgasm crest.
His teeth graze lightly over the tight bud of your breast, and it’s enough. With a final whine, the arousal that’s been coiling inside you snaps, and your back arches up off the bed as you come hard on his fingers.
Jimin’s fingers keep stroking you through it, the flat of his palm rubbing rough circles against your clit again and again and again and it feels like you might never stop coming. You moan as it rolls over you, wave after wave, until his touch is so overwhelming that you have to pull your trembling thighs together, and he finally relents.
Spent, your body sinks heavy into the bed, and you can’t help the dazed giggle that flutters out as afterglow starts to bloom behind your ribs.
Jimin hovers over you, dropped down onto his forearms, full lips pressing indiscriminately to your flushed skin, all over. You snake a hand through his hair to pull his mouth up to yours, and he kisses you slow and deep.
When you break apart, you tip your forehead to his. “Can I touch you?” you ask, still a little breathless.
“Please,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours again before he pulls away with a small, embarrassed smile. “My pants hurt.”
You sit up on your knees and he does too, and you bite down on your lip as you reach for the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it over his head, and then there he is, beautiful as ever. Familiar, yet somehow all new.
Jimin shivers and whines when your hands run across the bare skin of his chest, teasing over his soft brown nipples before starting to trace a path down to his stomach. You lean in to kiss him, and he outright groans into your mouth when your fingertips tease along the band of his boxers that peeks out over his jeans. You gently bring your palms to his hips to guide him, and he’s pliant for you, shifting backwards at your suggestion until he’s seated, leaned back against the headboard.
Your hands shake slightly as you unbutton and push down his jeans, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh of relief. He’s so hard, you can understand why the tight denim must have been painful: his dick is still straining even now, a thick outline pressed into the fabric of his underwear, and there’s a dark patch that clings to his tip where he’s started to leak precum.
You tug his boxers down with enough force that his length smacks heavy against his stomach, and he makes a strangled noise in response, eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerk violently beneath you, and your jaw goes slack as you watch his cock twitch, and keep twitching, until a steady pool of milky gloss has leaked out over his stomach.
“Shit,” Jimin hisses as he comes practically untouched, and he gasps for air to try to speak. “Fuck fuck fuck— ‘msorry, thought I could—”
You can see him starting to spiral, can feel the panic starting to heat up inside his body, so you take his face in both of your hands. “Jimin.”
“This has never happened before— fuck, I don’t— this is so—”
“Jimin.” When you say his name again, firmer this time, he goes quiet, his eyes still shut tight. “Look at me,” you murmur, and he does, lashes slow-blinking open. “It’s okay. Okay?” Your gaze searches his, trying to convince him. “I like everything about you. Everything you do. You’re perfect.”
Clearly trying to steady his breathing, his chest shudders with effort, and you gently circle your thumb at the hinge of his jaw. He makes a soft noise as his eyelids drop shut again, his cheek pressing into your hand, letting you carry a little bit more of his weight.
It’s quiet for a moment, and his voice is unsure when he speaks. “There’s tissues… in the—”
“Can I take care of it?” you interrupt to ask, your voice low. His eyes blink open again to look at you, and a dark glint flickers there as the unsaid meaning of your question washes over him.
“Y-yeah.”
You take your time moving down the bed to settle between Jimin’s thighs, and you stare up at him, waiting for any indication that he wants you to stop or doesn’t feel comfortable. But he just swallows hard, his adam’s apple jerking in his throat, and nods.
Leaning down, you drag your tongue in steady, long strokes over the flat plane of his stomach to lick the mess up.
As you get the last of it, you’re surprised to feel his hand cup the back of your head. You don’t resist when he pulls you up for a kiss, then licks into your mouth to taste himself, the salt and slick of his cum sliding between your tongues.
When you break apart to swallow, Jimin’s voice is a whisper. “That okay?”
You nod, unable to bite back your smile. “You’re… really fucking hot.”
He smirks as he finds your lips again. “So are you.” The next kiss is sweeter, and then he pulls back. “If you want, we can keep— or I can go down— I don’t want—” He can’t finish any of his half-started thoughts, and you smile, lovingly running your palms over his thighs, back and forth.
You want him so badly, more than anything, but you try to breathe through it. You can see the wheels spinning in his head, that self-critical flash in his eyes, the same furrow in his brow that creases when he gets frustrated with himself.
“I’m not saying no because I don’t want you,” you preface. “But I just don’t want you to feel stressed or get in your head about it. I want it to feel good, and I’m in no rush. Next time, okay?”
His lips are still a little pouted, but he nods, and you lean in to sling your arms around his neck. “C’mere.”
You tug him down to the mattress, and your half-naked bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, hands tracing gentle patterns over bare skin as you kiss.
When you eventually end up with your cheek pressed to his chest, you listen to the sound of his heartbeat settling, his breathing evening out. You speak softly in the quiet of his room. “My roommate’s doing an exhibition on Friday. Will you come with me? I’ve been promised there will be free booze.”
Jimin tightens his grip on your waist, his voice slurring like he’s half-asleep. “Mmm, my favorite person and my favorite thing.” There’s a pause, and he sighs. “That sounded bad. Promise I'm not an alcoholic.”
“I know,” you laugh, dragging your lips over his collarbone, then grunting a little noise of frustration as reality starts to set in. “I have class early tomorrow. I should go before I fall asleep here.”
He whines his disapproval, but when you glance up you can see the fight going out of him, his eyelids starting to flutter closed. You lean up for one, two, three more kisses before you force yourself out of bed to find your bra and your shirt. “I’ll see you Friday?”
“Mmkay.” He inhales deep, like he’s coming up for air. “Text me when you make it home safe?”
“I will,” you promise, and you do.
~*~
Namjoon’s exhibition is laughably fancy for what really just ends up being a room full of gay, overdressed art students. The ridiculous finger foods disappear in minutes— all the broke grad school kids came hungry— but you and Jimin gladly hover around the table of champagne flutes instead, giggles sparkling between you like the bubbles that fizz in your glasses.
You’ve been trying to drag him away to actually take in the art, but he keeps necking his drinks. “You’re supposed to sip it, you demon!” you chide with a laugh as he does it again, picking up a fresh glass and throwing all of it back in one gulp.
He smirks slightly as he shakes his head. “It’s more fun this way. Try it.”
You roll your eyes, hiding the grin that threatens to stretch over your face in the rim of your drink before following suit. He’s not wrong: a rush of warmth creeps up your neck as you swallow, the world softening around you, and it’s made sweeter by the kiss Jimin leans in for. When he pulls back you can see his face is flushing, too.
“Come on, Mr. Park,” you murmur, your free hand intertwining with his as you set the empty glass down and retrieve another. “Take me on a tour.”
Jimin grabs another flute too and then you’re off, and he actually manages to drink this one slowly as you weave through the gallery, the click of your footsteps underscoring the gentle classical music that floats through the speakers. You lean into Jimin in comfortable silence as you take in each art piece, sipping delicately at your champagne, occasionally hooking your chin over his shoulder just for the thrill of being close to him.
“These are all beautiful,” he hums appreciatively as you stand in front of a wide, impressionist landscape, swirls of color that shift into shapes when you step far enough away, but dissolve into unidentifiable blobs of thick-textured paint up close. “Namjoon did a really good job curating.”
“Mm-hmm,” you nod, but your eyes are on Jimin and everything else pales in comparison. He’s dressed up for the occasion, tight black jeans and a white button-down with a leather jacket thrown on over top. His hair is styled, pretty pink strands pushed back off his forehead, and his asymmetrical silver earrings glimmer in the low lighting. The result is so stunning you’ve had a hard time focusing on anything but him tonight.
A thought that’s been running through your mind all evening resurfaces again as you swallow the last of your glass of champagne.
“They should put you in a gallery.” You didn’t necessarily plan to say the thought out loud, but say it you do. Jimin quirks an eyebrow and you decide to double down. “But not here. Somewhere better.”
“The Met?” he guesses, teasing.
“The Louvre,” you counter, and he outright laughs, his head tipping back.
“The Louvre?!”
“You heard me,” you giggle, your body pressed against his side. “You’re art.”
Releasing your hand, he wraps his free arm around you to pull you into his chest, the smile still lingering over his face. “And you,” he murmurs, “are drunk.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” Your voice is muffled slightly as you speak into his collarbone.
You tilt your head up for a kiss, and it seems to surprise both of you how quickly the atmosphere changes. It might be the more-than-several glasses of champagne to blame, or the fact that you’ve found yourselves in a corner, hidden away from the rest of the exhibition’s patrons, but the soft spark that ignites between you quickly grows into a licking flame at the touch of your lips. It’s heat-blush passion as your mouths move against each other, and you’re trying to keep quiet despite the weight of it, heavy in your core, this shared, unspoken need.
“Jimin,” you breathe into him, overwhelmed by all that he is.
He shifts, nosing at your jawline as he speaks into your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere?”
The suggestion makes you a little unsteady on your feet, your high heels threatening to topple over, and he catches you with a hand to your waist when you falter. “Like, somewhere here?”
“Too far to go all the way home,” he purrs, the hand on your body squeezing gently. “And you look too good.”
Your head swims as he kisses you again, and he pries the empty glass out of your hand, setting it down on the nearest table with his. A hand returns to the small of your back, then slips lower, cupping your ass through the fabric of your black dress. His mouth paints a smile over yours, and you grab his wrist. “Follow me.”
Stumbling your way through the gallery, trading laughs under your breath like confidants and kisses when no one is looking, you lead him back to the coat check closet at the front, thankfully left vacant by whichever freshman had been roped in to the thankless job. With a final glance over your shoulder to make sure you’re unseen, you push the door open and tug Jimin inside after you.
As soon as the coat check door closes again, he has you pressed against it, his tongue slipping hungrily into your mouth. His hands skirt up the curve of your hips as he slots a thigh between your legs, firmly pushing up the hem of your dress to grind into your clothed center.
You both freeze where you are at the sound of a moan, one that very distinctly does not come from either of you.
Jimin tries and fails to suppress a nervous laugh. Unable to make out anything in the dark, you reach your hand out, smacking aimlessly at the wall next to you until you find a lightswitch and flip it on.
“What the fu—” The man who made the noise in question flings a hand over his face at the sudden intrusive wash of fluorescents, but you’d know him from his voice alone. Kim Taehyung still has one hand gripped tight to the metal bar of a coat rack, back arched and legs spread for whoever his latest victim is, with his pants and boxers shoved down to his ankles.
Before your alcohol-soaked brain can put together a smug comment about how Taehyung needs to get his ass eaten at home like a normal human, Jimin’s voice surprises you.
“Hobi?”
You clap a hand over your mouth as you realize the man on his knees, pulling his tongue off Taehyung’s rim with a look of utter confusion, is none other than Jung Hoseok. His eyes are wide as dinner plates as his head snaps up to take the two of you in.
“Jimin?!”
“Oh my god.” You start to laugh so hard your knees buckle, and Jimin has to wrap his arms around you to keep you upright. “How the fuck did you two even meet?!”
“Do we really need to have this discussion now?!” Taehyung growls, and it only makes you laugh harder.
“Come on, come on—” Jimin is collapsing into giggles himself as he fumbles for the handle behind you. He simultaneously attempts to pull you off the door so he can swing it open. “Let’s leave them to it.”
You smack the lights off again as you make your escape, Jimin’s grip still hugging tight around your waist as you laugh until your lungs nearly give out. The lobby is thankfully empty, all the attendees pressed deeper into the gallery, so you loop your arms over his shoulders as you recover and pull his mouth back down to yours, unable to stop yourself.
“Let me take you home,” you manage to say in the space between kisses. Your tongue feels heavy when you speak; his is champagne-sweet. “Joon and Yoongi will be here for a while.”
Jimin’s agreement hums, buzzing on your lips. “Wanna take the train?”
You’re grateful the subway car you stumble into is empty, because the pull of Jimin’s mouth is too magnetic to be ignored. You don’t think you could stop kissing him if you tried.
It’s practically a race back to your apartment once you emerge from the station, partially to get out of the cold night air, though you hardly feel it with Jimin’s jacket slung over your shoulders and your body flushed hot from alcohol and desire. As you climb the four flights to your walk-up, both of you giggling and gripping tight to the banister, the spiral of the stairs sends your world spinning. You feel dizzy-drunk on wine and laughter and lust alike, and maybe something more. Something you don’t have words for yet.
It takes you three tries to get your keys in the door, and when you finally manage to get it open, you kick your shoes off and make a beeline for your bedroom, dragging Jimin along after you, hand-in-hand. Thankfully he has the foresight to remember to shut the door behind you, because all you can think about is him: the rich musk of his cologne, the taste of his tongue, the warm blush of his skin under your palms.
The leather jacket hits the floor and you step over it, walking backwards as he licks into your open mouth, shameless.
You nearly fall over when you bump up against the bed and almost lose your balance, and then you reach for the buttons of his shirt at the same time he goes for your dress. The two of you laugh your frustrations against each other as your arms tangle and get in the way.
“You first!” you insist, and he relents, lets you unbutton the starched white fabric of his button-down so he can shrug out of it. Your fingers move to undo his belt and then he takes over, impressively coordinated enough to be able to kiss you while kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, stripped down now to his black boxer-briefs. He pulls your dress up over your head, and then your barely-clothed bodies press together all the way down, the ache in your core now an undeniable throb.
Jimin takes your face in his hands and kisses you again, and you slip one hand between your hips and his to palm at him, earning an appreciative hiss. You rub at him over the front of his briefs, teasing, then dip your touch beneath his waistband.
His cock hangs heavy between his legs, but he’s not quite hard yet, maybe from the cold, so you take him in your hand and start to pump. For fear of too much dry friction you try to go slow, and he groans into your mouth as you twist your wrist a little to circle your thumb over his frenulum.
He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel the heat of his embarrassment bloom against your skin. “Sorry— gimme a second.”
Tilting your head, you press a kiss to his temple. “Don’t apologize. D’you wanna try laying down?”
When he nods, you release your grip on him so he can sink down onto the bed, crawling backwards up to the pillows. Knelt down on the mattress, you settle in the space he makes for you, thighs spread and knees tipped open, and you push his briefs down enough to free all of him.
You hook your thumb and index finger under the head of his dick to pull it flush against his stomach, allowing you better access to drag your tongue in little kitten licks up his shaft. Your other hand moves to massage gently at his balls as you take his tip into your mouth and let it bulge against your cheek, let him slip against the soft wall there to make saliva pool on your tongue, sloppy on purpose.
It’s still not working, not really, and when your gaze flits up to him again, Jimin’s face is pulled into a grimace. Heat rushes up your neck, and you pull your mouth off him and immediately right yourself. You shift backwards a little on your knees as your pulse starts to race. Does he not want this? Did you misread some sign, or push him too far?
Jimin must be able to read the look in your eyes, because he groans as he presses his face into his hands. “It’s not you. Think I drank too much, I don’t— i-it feels good, I—it just—”
You’re not exactly sober yourself. The receding white noise of panic makes it hard to think, hard to know what to say. “I-it’s okay. It’s okay.”
“I just—” he tries again. “I really want to do this, I don’t know why— it’s fucking embarrassing.” The blankets muffle the sound as his palms smack flat against the bed on either side of him in clear frustration. You move out from between his legs, still trying to catch up, and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he pulls his boxer-briefs back over himself.
“Jimin,” you murmur. The bed creaks when you shift to lay next to him, to tuck into his side, and you reach up to run a hand through his hair, a little sticky with the product holding it in place. An anxious, thrumming quiet settles over both of you as his eyes flutter closed.
The words finally come to you in the silence; you can only hope they’ll reach him. “I had so much fun with you tonight. That doesn’t go away.” The crease between his brows softens a little, so you keep talking. “It’s not your only chance, okay? I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here.” Your free hand slips into his on the bed next to you. “And I want you with me.”
He sniffs a little, so quiet you nearly miss it, then turns in towards you. Your noses bump together and your mouth turns up at the corners as you continue. “It’s late, and I… can’t promise there isn’t more ass-eating waiting for you at home. Do you want to sleep here?”
Jimin’s eyes blink open, glassy, and then he nods.
“Come on,” you say softly, sitting up and tugging on your still-joined hands. “How about we shower?”
In the bathroom, you run the water scalding hot, and when you both step in you nudge Jimin forward to stand under it first, then press against him from behind. Your hands wrap around his waist to slide over his stomach as you tilt up to reach his ear when you speak. “This okay?”
He nods, hums a little, and you move your hands up over the whole of his body. Hard lines and soft curves, a work of art you know so well, you can see it when you close your eyes as you map his skin with your fingertips. You nuzzle into the place where his neck and shoulder meet, then press a kiss there. “I’m right here,” you say again, not even sure if he hears you.
But his head turns, and you feel one of his hands slide over yours on his chest. “Will you wash my hair?” he asks softly, and you tip forward to bring your mouth to his, convinced you’d do anything he asked of you.
It’s intimate, the way you take your time running shampoo and then conditioner through his silky pink strands, dragging your nails over his scalp and applying gentle pressure that makes him sigh prettily in response. Jimin steps further under the showerhead both times to rinse the product out, and if a few tears slip down his cheeks, they’re lost to the spray of the water where you can’t tell the difference.
But he does manage the ghost of a smile when you reach to grab your washcloth and he gets there first. “Your turn.”
Once your body and then his are scrubbed and rinsed clean, you shut the water off and grab thick, fluffy towels that you dry off and wrap up in. In the dim light of your room, you pull on an oversized t-shirt and boyshorts, then dig out a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. They’re fairly baggy on you, but they fit Jimin perfectly, and the image of him in something of yours makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest.
You run two glasses under the kitchen tap that you set out to ward off any potential hangovers, and you even manage to find a spare toothbrush for him to use. When he emerges from the bathroom again, still absentmindedly toweling his damp hair, you’re sitting on the bed with your feet tucked under you.
“Do you want to watch something?” you offer gently.
He shakes his head as he stifles a yawn. “‘Mtired. Think I just wanna sleep.”
You pat the bedspread next to you, an invitation. “Then let’s sleep.”
Under the covers, you curl up together, soft and warm from the shower, scented lavender and mint from your body wash and toothpaste. Jimin’s legs tangle with yours, an arm wrapping over your waist, and you press your cheek against the hard plane of his chest with a small sigh.
You listen as his breathing slows, each inhale a little further apart from the last, to the point where you think he’s fallen asleep. You feel yourself start to follow after him, and the last thing you hear before you’re dragged all the way down is Jimin inhaling deep, then mumbling softly into your hair. “Thank you. For everything.”
~*~
Light streams in between the cracks of the window blinds, painting warm shapes over your eyelids that gently wake you. You sigh and stretch as you slowly come all the way up from dreaming, your eyes still heavy-lidded. When you roll over with a soft grunt, you find Jimin fast asleep there, his face smushed into the pillow, one arm slung lazily over you.
The corner of your mouth pulls up, and you have to fight the urge to dot kisses all over his face, deciding to let him sleep instead. It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to roll out from under his arm without waking him and slip quietly out of bed, easing the bedroom door closed behind you.
It’s early, and the apartment is still, washed in morning gleam and the gentle hum of New York City traffic on the streets outside.
You stumble into the kitchen with a stifled yawn, swinging open the fridge and leaning down to retrieve a pack of bacon and the half-empty carton of eggs. Humming quietly to yourself, you dig a pan out and set it on the stove to heat.
Arms slide around your waist, making you jump a little before you melt back as Jimin nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You can feel his body through your t-shirt, still warm from sleep and bedsheets he must’ve only just crawled out from under.
Not quite graceful, you turn in his arms and loop yours around his neck to seek a kiss. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice hoarse on your first spoken words of the day. “How are you feeling?”
Jimin’s mouth is still slurred from waking up when he answers. “‘Mgood. You look good.” His gaze roams down your body and back up, as if to take in your oversized shirt, your bare legs, your hair still messy from sleep. “So cute like this.”
You scrunch your nose slightly as you smile up at him. “Want breakfast?”
A heat starts to pool between your legs as his hands slide further down your back. He pushes your shirt up so he can grip your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear the only thing separating his skin from yours.
“In a bit.”
You can’t help but squeak when, in one swift move, he bends his knees and lifts you off the ground. Impulsively, your legs spread to wrap over his hips, thighs squeezing tight to hold on, and your arms cling around his neck as laughter flutters in your chest. Before you can act on the urge to bury your face in his shoulder, his mouth finds yours again, and the way he kisses you, hungry and deep, makes nothing else in the world matter.
He carries you back to bed, nudging open the door he didn’t quite close all the way with his shoulder, then using a foot to push it shut again. Your muscles unclench when he sits down with you in his lap, and you unwrap your legs from around him, your knees sinking soft into the bed.
You can’t quite shake the thoughts of the night before. “Jimin,” you start, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t—”
“Want to,” his voice is low, ragged edges from sleep. “Doing it ‘cause I want to. I want you. Do you want me?”
You nod, leaning back to look at him, your arms still twined over his neck. “More than anything.”
There’s no rush this time as he shifts backwards up the bed and you crawl over him to settle into his lap again. No tension that’s been building all night, no alcohol buzzing in your systems, no urgency. Just your bodies, half-dressed in sleep clothes, intertwining like they were made to fit together.
Your kisses are sweet and unhurried as Jimin’s hands slip beneath your oversized t-shirt, delicate fingers tracing up your waist. He cups your breasts in his palms, squeezing gently as he licks into your mouth. When he rolls a nipple between his fingers, your breath hitches, sparks of arousal shooting all the way down to your toes. A weight blossoms in your core as you reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, and you shiver a little in the morning air.
“Beautiful,” Jimin says quietly, reverently, and you take his face in your hands.
“You are too,” you murmur, your eyes searching his. “So beautiful.” Your hands slip down his body as he kisses you again, your fingertips outlining the contours of his chest, gently brushing over his nipples to make him groan into your mouth.
Jimin’s hands come to rest at the curve of your hips as your mouths move together, where he teases his touch under the band of your boyshorts. He pulls back just far enough to ask, “Can I take these off?” and you nod.
You shimmy the thin fabric down your thighs, dropping onto your ass with a laugh so he can tug them the rest of the way off, one ankle at a time. As you sit up on your knees again, his hands come to grip your thighs, and he shifts lower on the bed until he’s laying flat on his back next to you.
“Wanna eat you out,” he murmurs softly.
“Yeah?” You bite down on a small smile.
He hums. “Can I— will you please, uh… sit on my face?”
You can’t help but giggle. No one has ever asked so politely. “Yeah, okay.”
It’s slow, languid, the way his full lips close delicately around your clit when you settle over him, how he alternates with lazy passes of his tongue, not unlike the way he kisses you. The pleasure pulls your spine arched and your head tips back, palms pressing flat to the bed beneath you.
“Jimin,” you gasp, “baby, feels so fucking good.”
His tongue is heavy as it drags down your folds, thick when he sinks it into your cunt to taste the slick arousal that pours out of you and drips down his chin. Your hips rock into his mouth, his nose inadvertently bumping against your clit as he licks you like he doesn’t want to waste a drop. Your walls cling tight, crammed up full of him.
With a slurp and a gasp for breath, he withdraws, his tongue made hot from being buried inside of you, trailing wet warmth as he licks back up your pussy to lap at your clit again. Your arms threaten to give out when he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, lips pulsing an insistent rhythm that makes you moan and writhe above him.
“Jimin, Jimin.” The pleasure is decadent, thick, wine and honey, made sweeter by the beautiful boy pressed between your thighs. Emotion bubbles up inside of you to twist with your pleasure, and you tighten a hand in his rose-blush hair as you moan again, nearly a sob this time, a dam breaking.
Jimin hums against you, fingertips digging into the soft skin of your thighs, like he can tell you’re at the edge without you having to say a word, and it’s enough to send you tumbling over it.
“Oh fuck baby, yes, fuck.” Your toes curl tight over the bedsheets as your pussy flutters, throbs, gushes. Your vision whites out as you come hard enough to make your thighs shake, hard enough that your stomach muscles tremble with the effort of holding you up. Jimin’s mouth works you through it, tongue stroking flat and slow to coax pulse after pulse out of you, until everything melts into shaky aftershocks and your thighs clench around him, over-sensitive.
He pulls back when you start to squirm, lips smacking wetly on a final kiss to your pussy, and heat flushes your face at the sound of it. Your limbs feel heavy as lead as you slip off from on top of him and collapse down onto the mattress with a floaty sigh, your pulse still thudding brightly in your ears.
You’re only distantly aware of the way the bed shifts as Jimin slides down next to you. You follow his touch on instinct, turning into him when he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your hairline. Heartbeat still slamming in your chest, mind hazy with morning orgasm glow, you hum contentedly as your eyes flutter open to find him palming at a thick bulge tenting his– well, your sweatpants.
“Looks like it’s cooperating today.” Jimin’s voice is equal parts relieved and embarrassed.
With a lazy smile, you hook a finger in his waistband, tugging playfully. “What do you want to do about it?”
He laughs hoarsely. “I would love to finally fuck you, if you’ll have me.”
“I don’t want anybody else.” The thought spills out before you can worry if it’s too soon to say it, but he just smiles and leans in to kiss you.
At Jimin’s guidance, you lay back against the pillows, a couple of which he grabs to slot under your hips. “There’s condoms in the nightstand,” you say softly, and anticipation thrums in your chest, twinning with your still-racing pulse as you watch him retrieve one, then step out of his sweatpants to roll it on.
He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, and your breaths come shallow into each other’s mouths. You kiss quietly at the precipice of this moment, like you’re afraid it might not be real, a dream you could wake up from at any second.
“Thank you.” Jimin’s low voice sends a ripple through you. “For waiting for me.”
You press a hand to his cheek, your eyes trying to take all of him in at once. “It wasn’t waiting, Jimin. Really. I’ve loved every second with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”
“I’m so glad I met you,” he murmurs.
The head of his cock teases your entrance, and you spread your thighs wider, pulling your legs up towards your chest. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you can’t bite back the moan that spills out of you as he sinks into your tight heat with a cock thick enough to split you open. “Fuck, Jimin.”
There’s a pause when he’s pressed all the way in, his body covering yours, your hands clutching at the broad sweep of his back. He exhales a soft, disbelieving laugh as he looks down to see himself buried in you to the hilt. “God, you’re so tight. Does it hurt?”
You shake your head— you’re so soaked from his tongue and your arousal that it all just feels like melting, a pulsating heat between your legs. When he presses another kiss to your lips, he circles his hips, and you both groan at the feeling.
Jimin’s hands grip your thighs as he shifts and starts to move, starts fucking into you with long, slow strokes that make your pussy flutter, as if to urge him in deeper.
“It’s good?” he checks in again, voice tight, clearly holding himself back.
“So good, baby,” you breathe, “please fuck me.” A smirk flashes over his mouth at your manners, so polite when you ask to take it, and then he snaps his hips into you and you keen. “Fuck, please, just like that.”
He does it again and again, hands pressing down on your thighs to keep you folded up under him as he fucks you. The angle is just right for the thick head of his cock to pound into your g-spot with every stroke, and your back arches as your walls grip tight to him.
Jimin echoes your gasps with his own, swearing under his breath as you squeeze around him. He’s thrusting deep-deep now, and your hips shove up towards him for all of it, your thighs trembling as you take every inch. You’re dripping down his length every time he pulls back, wet enough to soak the sheets beneath you.
The pleasure, the pressure as he fills you up is so overwhelming that your hands reach, clinging to anything they can find. A pillow, the bedsheets, the flexing muscles in his forearms. Your moans come unabashedly now, underscored by the slap of skin on skin, the thud of the bedframe knocking into the wall. “Jimin, Jimin, baby.”
“Yeah,” he pants, choked up like he’s close. “Love it when you say my name.”
You sit up a little, folded legs shifting to wrap over his hips, and your hands come to his face to pull his mouth down to yours. His movements stutter as you kiss him breathlessly, and the brush of your tongue over his must be just enough to make him come undone. With a grunt of effort, he thrusts hard into you one final time, and his shoulders shake as he fills up the condom.
You kiss him again and again, your lips pulled into a smile against his as you tangle a hand in his hair, made messy from sleep and sex. Jimin’s body weighs heavy on top of yours as he drops his head to your shoulder, breath coming in short heat-bursts over your collarbone.
“Fuck. Been a minute.” He presses a kiss there, another to your neck, a third to your jaw. “Do you want to keep going?”
Your eyes widen at the question. “I— can you?”
A soft flush paints color in his cheeks, and he’s suddenly a little shy. “Yeah, I can. If you want. Or we can stop.”
You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your noses bumping. “I kinda felt like I was getting close again.”
He smiles. “Then let me finish what I started.” There’s a bit of shuffling as he moves to the edge of the bed to remove and tie up the used condom, then reaches for the box to retrieve another.
As he tears open the foil and rolls it on, you watch and consider all of him. This body that you know from every angle, that you’ve studied like a textbook, that holds the boy who stepped onto the subway and changed your life and made it better. This body, made to be adored, to be respected and cherished and filled up with love. This body, chosen to be shared with you, to be held by you, to be near you.
That’s all you want, you realize as he rolls over, brown eyes blinking sweetly at you. This body, and all that it holds: the darkness and the light, the pain and the beauty, the soul that so perfectly fits with yours.
“Turn over for me?” he asks softly. “I want to spoon.”
This round is easier, slower, your bodies molding together, shaky from effort and sensitivity. You twist over your shoulder, tipping your head up for a kiss that turns into a shared gasp as he presses into you again. Your walls are swollen enough to be tender, and the stretch of him, the way he fills you up entirely, makes your eyes roll back.
As he starts to grind his hips into you, his hand snakes down between your thighs before you even have to ask. You hook a leg over his to allow him better access and gasp when his cock slides even deeper into you from the new angle.
“So good,” you manage as two of his fingers work circles into your clit, matching the same slow-stroke pace. His tongue slips into your mouth, and with his cock rubbing insistently against your front wall, it doesn’t take much. Pleasure overwhelms you in a hot rush as he so easily pulls you apart again.
“Jimin.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, your walls starting to pulse. Your head tips back against his shoulder as he fucks and rubs you through it, his hums of encouragement buzzing through your body, your hips shuddering. “Baby, oh god.”
Jimin’s strokes start to falter, and then he goes still, your cunt aftershock-fluttering around him as he comes again, groaning your name.
A brush of daylight through the blinds makes your eyes heavy, and they drop closed as you lean into him and breathe through the comedown. You don’t know how long you lay there like that until his kisses pull you back earthside, dotting over your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw. You tilt your head up and he finally finds your lips again.
With a deep grunt of post-sex effort, he rolls over, leaning off the edge of the bed to deal with the second condom. A shiver dots up your spine at the loss of his body next to yours, and you tuck into his side when he lays down again, throwing an arm over his chest to better nuzzle into the crook of his neck. The heat of his palm makes you sigh as his hand rubs gentle circles against your back.
Something cracks open inside of you, warm like his touch, like the sunlight bleeding through the window. You can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat under your hand, and it’s everything, all of him, that makes the words rise up in your throat, undeniable.
“Jimin,” you breathe, “I l—”
A loud bang on your bedroom door makes you flinch, and you roll over with a grimace as Yoongi shouts from the other side. “If you’re finished, just so you know, you left a fucking pan on the stove. Could’ve burnt the house down while you were in there deflowering each other.”
Your jaw drops open and Jimin’s eyes go wide, and you collapse against each other in a silent rush of laughter. You’re surprised when Yoongi’s voice comes back, a little softer this time. “Also I brought some bagels back from work. If you want any, better hurry before Namjoonie eats them all.”
The charged moment has passed, and the words sink back down inside of you. Making a promise to tell him soon, you wrap yourself tighter around Jimin’s side with a smile. “What do you think?”
He nods thoughtfully. “I’ll never say no to a bagel.”
“Come on then,” you murmur, tilting up for a final hit of affection. The kiss he leaves on your lips makes your heartbeat flutter, like the shudder of a subway car.
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coffee girl
part 1: the big spill
pairings: luke hughes x fem!reader
summray: on her way to an interview at the prudential Center, someone crashes into y/n someone causing her coffee to go everywhere, and that someone happens to be luke hughes.
wc: 786
warnings: slight angst? cussing, slight fluff. flustered and nervous reader and luke. nothing too crazy yet. OH cliffhanger..kindaa
au: hi everyone!! i'm back with another luke fic but most importantly i'm starting my FIRST ever series woooooohoooooooo. im super excited and nervous to write but i can't WAIT. anyways! i hope you guys enjoy the first part of this series. like and reblog if you'd like. thank you so much for all of the love on my other works, i'm so grateful.
happy reading <3
I'm late. Very late. I'm rushing. No, I'm sprinting.
I'm late to the most important interview of my life, all because I wanted coffee.
I shout out a quick “thank you!” to Bastria and sprint out the door. I have 5 minutes to get there. I think to myself I can get there on time. I can do this.
Quickly running across the crosstalk, I can see the Prudential Center. Almost there, almost there. Shit, 3 minutes to spare. I pick up my speed, if that's even possible at this point. I can feel my neck beginning to sweat as I take each step.
As I turn to the arena, I feel a chest suddenly crash into mine, instantly feeling the cold liquid; my coffee runs down the front of me.
I pull back from the stranger with a shriek. Looking down at my white shirt that's now covered in brown. My eyes began to water. This can not be happening to me.
“Oh my gosh, shit I'm so sorry” I heard the stranger say, not being able to pull my head up to meet his eyes, if I did, he’d see mine filled with tears.
I pull my wrist to my face to check the time, I'm 3 minutes late. Late. Now I'm crying, big hot tears are hitting my cheeks before I have the chance to stop them.
“Hey hey don't cry, i'll get you a new shirt. Let me help you clean up” the stranger speaks again.
I tilt my head up to finally look at the stranger and I can't believe my eyes. Luke Hughes. you're actually fucking kidding me. His eyes are locked with mine, I'm trying to search for words to say but I can't seem to find any.
“H-here take my hoodie” Luke says as he pulls his hoodie off his body. Holding it out for me to grab it, taking the hoodie in my hands whispering a small “thank you” in his direction.
“you’re welcome” he says as he clears his throat, “again I'm really sorry” Luke speaks again. “It's okay” I sigh back, my eyes meeting him again, “ thank you for this, I have to go” I quickly say to him as I turn on my heel, I can feel more tears on my waterline threatening to spill.
As I make my way away from him, rushing to find a bathroom. I hear someone shout “HEY” behind me, I turn around briefly, to see Luke still standing there “I NEVER GOT YOUR NAME, I'M LUKE” he shouts at me. “Y/N” I yell back, as I turn back around not waiting for his response.
Im quickly rushing into the bathroom, taking in my disheveled state. Tearing off my shirt and throwing it in my bag as I put Luke's hoodie on, his scent filling my nose, he smells good I think to myself. I pull myself out of my trance quickly. Grabbing a paper towel and bringing it under my eyes and wiping away mascara that's fallen on my face. Fixing my hair, licking my lips deciding this is good enough.
Glancing at my watch, to see that I'm now 10 minutes late. Shit. I began to run through the center, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, my chest and legs burning each step I took.
Finally getting to the place where I'm set to have my interview. I slowly walk into the room, hoping my devils hoodie gives me brownie points and distracts them from the fact that I'm over 10 minutes late to my interview.
“Y/n! there you are! I was starting to think you wouldn't show!” “I'm Micheal but you can call me Mike,” Mike says to me as he holds his hand out to me, I quickly grab into a shake. “I'm super sorry I'm late” I say quickly, “I had a… coffee accident” I chuckle out. If you only know who ran into me, Mike, I say to myself.
“Its okay, no worries! You're here now and that's all that matters!” he says back to me, i smile back at him.
“Lets sit, and get this interview rolling” he says while pulling out a chair for me to sit in, quickly taking a seat placing my bag on the floor beside me.
“Yes, let's get started!” I replied back, “oh nice Devils hoodie! I meant to tell you that when you walked in” he says to me. “Thank you!” I say as I look down at the hoodie. Thanking Luke in my head for bumping into me.
“Okay let's get started, '' Mike says. Nodding my head quickly in response, i really hope I get this job, I say to myself.
#nhl fanfiction#nhl hockey#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nhl fic#new jersey devils#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes
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JUST READ YOUR OMEGA!ABBY FANFIC AND OMFG?? THATS SO GOOD!!! LITERALLY AMAZING WRITING<3
If your requests are open, how about Omega!Abby and Alpha!reader where they mark and scent eachother? :D
Thank youu
thank you so much! I call this one "All The Times When Ellie Williams Questioned If She Still Wanted To Be Friends With Abby" ft. Abby's alpha.
female alpha!reader x omega!abby
Palestine: what can you do
Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, there's some smut. 1.3k words.
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Ellie Williams is the biggest victim of your relationship. She thinks she has a right for moral compensation for what she has to put up with, because you two are disgusting.
(She is jealous)
It starts innocently enough: Abby texts her about how cute you’re and how you scented her totally by accident. Ellie rolls her eyes, but smiles and sends Abby a meme.
The first time when you scent Abby it happens unconsciously. You're hugging goodbye after one of your dates, and as you put your head on Abby's shoulder, you nuzzle into her neck. Abby freezes, while you get confused. And then it dawns on you.
“Oh god.” You say, horrified. Abby is blushing, shocked, but she doesn't smell bad. “Oh god, I'm sorry.”
“It's- it's okay.” Abby says as she touches her neck. She can smell how your scents mixed and it makes her feel giddy. “I like it.”
You grin widely and toy with Abby's fingers, like a lovesick idiot. Abby doesn't reciprocate, and yeah, maybe it hurts your feelings a bit, you don't say anything. Abby is not obligated to scent you back.
Then it goes to: "I scented her back today and she looked so happy!!" Which is great to know, but Ellie's lonely ass doesn't want to read it right after she embarrassed herself in front of Dina.
When Abby still doesn't reciprocate after the third time you scented her, you start worrying. So you talk to her.
“Do you want me to stop scenting you? You don't smell uncomfortable, but-” Abby looks at you with wide eyes, probably panicking. “Fuck, I should've asked before I did it, I'm such an idiot.”
Abby panics more and grips your hands tightly.
“I like it. Don't stop, please. And you don't need to ask.” Abby smiles gently and you turn into a puddle. Then Abby frowns. “I guess I feel embarrassed, you know- Because my scent is so weak. That's why I don't scent you back.”
You blink. And blink again. It's true, Abby doesn't have the most suffocating scent, not sharp vanilla or god forbid, lilies, but once you know how Abby smells, you can always catch it. And to you it doesn't matter - you smell her on yourself, and this is all you need. Just have a piece of her on you, comforting you.
“I love your scent.” You say and Abby's pheromones burst. “I want your scent on me.”
Abby smiles, happy to hear it, happy to be enough for you. Then she shyly moves closer and nuzzles into your neck too, making your knees wobble. Your scents mix perfectly.
It becomes quite a common ritual for you: you nuzzle each other when you cuddle, when Abby sits on your lap, when you sit on her lap, you always bury your noses in each other's scent glands. It's safe and soothing, and makes you both feel like you belong to each other, comforting and protective. And Ellie understands that - it’s cute. You two are cute, and she is very happy for Abby, especially since you look like you genuinely believe the sun shines out of Abby’s ass. So she keeps her teasing to herself and lets you two enjoy each other.
Then one day Dina tells Ellie how scary you are when you get territorial and Ellie thinks she will kill you, but then Dina asks if it’s true that Ellie broke Owen’s wrist for cheating on Abby and Ellie’s bloodthirst subsides.
You can't help it, you hate when other alphas look at Abby and fucking sniff her. She is yours. Abby finds it endearing, because she is so not scared of you, you're safe, but she starts to notice how other alphas turn away when your scent gets stronger. She doesn't piece it together until Dina points it out, when your alpha presence affects her alpha presence.
“You make her so fucking scary, Abby.” Dina laughs while you stare down yet another alpha, radiating aggression. “One day she is going to rip someone to shreds for you.”
Again, Abby would laugh, but she knows alphas are more than capable of doing it. Abby tells Dina about what happened to Owen when he cheated on her and Dina smirks, while her scent changes to attraction. Abby grins, knowing that she just made Ellie look more appealing in Dina's eyes.
Ellie can live with that. She understands, she also gets jealous easily, and it is hilarious watching you get all over Abby without even realising it.
You get possessive unconsciously: you see an alpha staring at Abby and you wrap your arms around her, rubbing your cheek over her neck, making sure your scents are mixed, and Abby giggles.
“What are you doing?” She asks and you freeze like a deer, your arms locked around her.
“I-um.” What are you supposed to say? Sorry, this guy was looking at you so I claimed you?
“Yeah?” Abby keeps teasing you and you bite her shoulder lightly.
“This guy was looking at you so I claimed you.” You admit and Abby laughs.
“Oh, I needed that.” Abby says, taking a breath after laughing at you. “Silly, silly alpha.”
You huff, but when Abby kisses you, you melt.
But then you stare her down and honestly, Ellie feels like challenging you out of pure fucking spite. She obviously doesn’t - first of all, because she understands, second of all, because unlike weakass Owen, you will kick her ass. Abby is fucking glowing and Ellie swallows her pride for the sake of her friend’s happiness.
When Ellie gets “you know I just realised that she is MY alpha. like. she is *mine*. it do be crazy out there” Ellie doesn’t expect to see you next day with two hickeys on your neck and a lovesick grin. Abby looks embarrassed and Ellie makes fun of her for it, but then you growl at her and Ellie starts making fun of you for being so whipped. (she never mentions that you’re wearing marks and not Abby, she is not an asshole).
Abby doesn't use scenting as a form of claiming you, because she thinks her scent is not strong enough. She much prefers to scent you in order to soothe you, especially when you're stressed, because it calms you down, but when Abby gets territorial, she leaves marks.
It happens for the first time before you two have sex, but you're already getting handsy with each other. You're making out on your couch and Abby smells your arousal, feels your hard-on against her thigh, and you whine so prettily into her mouth when she grinds against you.
Abby suddenly feels so possessive - she wants to claim you, she wants everyone to know you're hers, and her kisses become rough. You whine when she starts kissing your jaw and then moves to your neck, licking your scent glands with her hot tongue.
“Fuck, I'm gonna-” Abby sucks a bruise on your neck, just under your scent glands, and you cum, wetting your pants. “Fuck, holy shit- Abby-” You keep whining and Abby growls, sucking another hickey. “Holy shit, baby-”
She leaves your neck alone and bites your collarbone. Your eyes become red and Abby whines herself when your thick alpha presence starts filling her nose. She pants into your neck, too turned on, and you grip her waist tighter.
“Please.” Abby begs and you push your hands down her pants, rubbing her clit. “Yes, fuck, right there- fuck!”
She is so pretty when she cums.
And okay, it’s all cool. Ellie is cool with everything. But she fucking hates your ruts. Not only it reminds her of her own loneliness, but it also turns you into a fucking idiot. It’s unbecoming. You’re smart and funny and Ellie, despite her complaints, is actually fond of you. You’ve become one of her closest friends, since when she was really stressed out about Dina and being in love with another alpha, you’ve never judged her and helped her through it. But your ruts come and Ellie wishes she could strangle you.
You're close to your rut, Abby is supposed to study with Ellie in the evening, and your monkey brain needs to make it clear that Abby is yours, even though you know Ellie is not a threat. You actually like her, she is cool and keeps your baby safe when you're not around, but alpha instincts can't be really defied. So in the morning you fuck Abby in the shower and suck a hickey near Abby's scent glands when she cums. She doesn't pay attention: you always play with her neck, so it's nothing new.
So when Abby shows up to their usual study session in the library Ellie is appalled. Abby, oblivious as ever, doesn't even notice it, but Ellie can't stop staring at a hickey on Abby's collarbone: she knows why you put it there, you rut-induced jealous moron.
“She marked you?”
Abby blushes.
“What?”
“You have a hickey.” Ellie nods at her collarbone and suddenly the room smells like arousal. “No, you're not getting horny in the library, Anderson. Have some respect.”
Abby blushes harder.
“I swear to God Abby.” Ellie hisses and Abby laughs, but the smell of arousal goes down. “Keep your alpha in check.”
“Come on, you know I'm worse with the marking than she is.” Abby smiles. “Last time I made a fucking necklace around her neck because Nora hugged her.”
“Please, I don't want to know.” Ellie whines and Abby laughs, a manic grin forms on her lips.
“Oh, you know what she does when she is in a rut? She rubs her c-”
“Fuck off Abby! I don't need to know!” Ellie groans, tired of her shitty best friend and her shitty alpha and their shitty sex life.
“Maybe Dina will do it too, you know.”
Ellie blushes and doesn't say anything, too embarrassed to admit that Dina already did.
“Why am I friends with you? Why am I friends with your girlfriend?” Ellie shakes her head and Abby laughs.
Ellie thinks you’re the worst when you’re in rut with how possessive you are, but she has to find out the truth the hard way. Abby comes to lunch all grumpy and pouty, and Ellie smells the sour spice of jealousy in her scent. She doesn’t smell hurt, which is great, but it bothers Ellie.
“She got paired for a project with that bitch who always stares at her!” Abby bursts and Ellie nods. She knows the bitch - a cute omega from your class who always stands too close to you during student guide’s meetings and looks at you like you hang the stars. You keep your distance, but it doesn’t stop the omega. So Abby is furious.
“Well shit.” Ellie sighs.
“I’ll kill her.”
“I’m not visiting you in prison.”
It sucks, Ellie knows. She also hates seeing omegas smile at Dina, especially since she is so friendly. But Ellie can’t control other people, and Abby can’t too.
So it turns out, Abby comes up with a creative solution.
There are moments when Abby scents you to claim you. You know she is upset about Ollie, and you keep trying to soothe her until Abby decides to take the matter in her own hands.
She pushes you on the bed and strips under your shocked eyes, but you quickly catch up and start taking your own clothes off. You reach for Abby to give her a kiss, but instead she pushes you again until you lie down, and straddles your chest. You grin and wrap your arms around her thighs, tugging her down until Abby sits on your face, her hot cunt suffocating you. It’s heaven. It’s pure heaven. You grip her thighs and eat her out like a woman starved, licking and sucking her clit, lapping at her drooling hole and moaning when you taste her. Abby is whimpering above you, but then she finds herself and grips your hair to yank your head down, holding it one place.
“Stick your tongue out.” Abby growls and you obey, so turned on by your girlfriend you start humping air.
Abby starts to ride your face aggressively, until your damn eyelashes are wet with her cum and you let her, moaning into her cunt as you get yourself off. Abby starts growling “you’re mine” on every tilt of her hips, her puffy clit twitching on your tongue, and you’re done. You cum and Abby keeps going until her thighs trap you and her slick drowns you while she shakes and whimpers on top of you.
The next day Ellie, poor unsuspecting Ellie, hugs you hello when you meet her in the morning in a coffee shop, and she catches a very strong scent. Abby’s very strong scent. It’s not the one that she scents you with - it’s something richer, deeper, as if her usual scent of fresh roses was condensed and spilled on your fa-
You have the audacity to laugh when Ellie connects the dots.
“I hate you both so fucking much. Why do I even bother.” Ellie huffs while you laugh, pleased. “Go wash your fucking face, you stink!”
But you can only smile, absolutely love-drunk. It's fair to say, Ollie backs off immediately after this.
Of course, eventually Ellie makes peace with it.
(She gets her revenge)
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Loved By Seven | Chapter 4
Genre: Hybrid!AU, Poly!AU, Mate!AU, romance, fluff
Pairing: OT7 x Reader
Characters: Human!Reader, Peacock!Seokjin, Serpent!Yoongi, Hawk!Hoseok, White Tiger!Namjoon, Merman!Jimin, Leopard!Taehyung, Wolf!Jungkook
Summary: Hiking was just an activity to get you out of the apartment, the last thing you imagined was ending in a whole different world by touching a jewel. That not being enough you end up meeting seven hybrids, and they all claim you shared the Connection with each of them making you their partner for life.
Notes: Hi! After I posted the third chapter I noticed I have more than 200 followers!!! I truly can't believe it, thank you so much!!! And I decided to write this chapter as fast as I could for a 100 followers celebration, which means the fifth chapter will be a 200 followers celebration along with a one shot from my masterlist. I'm so grateful for the people who keep reading this series and for the new ones who are giving me the opportunity to give them something to read. Likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated. English is not my first language so pardon me if anything is misspelled or grammatically incorrect. Also the main idea came from a webtoon but I can’t remember it’s name. Enjoy!
Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Support me?
Closing the door behind him a very happy leopard stops in front of the elevator to call, once inside he marks the parking lot. Which car should I drive today? Well I'm already late, I should take the smaller one he walks and picks up one of the two pair of keys dangling from his parking space I can't wait to take Beautiful out, just the two of us a boxy smile breaks through with this thought and gets in the car After this shoot I'm gonna pretend to be sick and get back to her quickly.
Thanking to the people who picked up the place for the photoshoot, since it was near the building he lives in, he exists the car and jogs a little bit to meet with his manager, a dog hybrid, waiting for him at the entrance, "Tae, I know you're a really big name in this industry, and thanks to me may I add" Jaehyun says with a silly smile and walking where there was already a lot of people waiting for Taehyung "but you can't be this late to a shoot man" this time is a frown what accompanies his words. "I know hyung, I'm sorry, you know I don't like to waste people's time but something happened yesterday and my phone died so the alarm didn't ring and I had to make breakfast but didn't have groceries so everything was a bit chaotic".
Once they're in front of the crew, Taehyung says out loud "I'm sorry everybody, I didn't mean to be this late" "It's okay, I mean you're THE Kim Taehyung you can be as late as you want" says a young leopard hybrid coming way to closer for his liking, like she almost wanted to touch him, so he takes a step back "I'm sorry Director, it won't happen again" he says bowing at her, which makes the girl blush "Um, Tae, she's no…" Jaehyun stars but gets interrupted "She's not the director Taehyung, it's me, she works with the make-up department" a slighter older fox hybrid walks towards Jaehyun and him "Oh, I'm sorry for being late Sir" he bows again, but this time at the right person "I know you're a big name but it can't happen again while we do this campaign" "It won't I swear" Taehyung says with his anima ears twitching nervously and his human ears red from embarrassment, at this the Director chuckles "It's okay, go get changed and then go to make-up while we set up things to start the shoot" he points at a girl who raises her hand She must be from the costume's department thus Taehyung walks behind her until they get to the dressing room.
"Hi Mr. Kim, I'm Danny and I'll be helping you during this campaign with what you'll be wearing" "Thank you Danny, and you can call me Taehyung, Mr. Kim sounds way to formal for my liking" he smiles gently at her Wow he is even more handsome in person and the rumor of him being a sweetheart are true, thank you universe for already having a partner otherwise I would probably be acting like the girl from make-up "Sure thing Taehyung" she says with red cheeks "These are the clothes you're gonna be wearing for this particular shoot" Danny shows him the main show of the shoot, a pair of underwear, with a pair of jeans and a jacket, both in denim "Okay" the leopard goes behind a curtain to change himself "If you need anything, I'm here" Danny says in a more professional tone "I actually have a question" he says while taking off his shirt "Sure, is anything not your size?" "No, it's not about the clothes or the shoot" "Oh" she says more relaxed "Sure" You're human right? I mean I didn't smell anything particular from you, except a faint smell of giraffe" he rushes his explanation in fear of offending her while almost falling from taking off his pants, she chuckles at this "Yes, I'm human and the scent you're smelling is my partner, it's faint because he's away on business, may I ask why are you asking this?" "It's just that I found my partner and she's also human and I wanted to know how can I court without scaring her, both my parents are hybrids so I don't know if I should do something different" a fondly smile forms on his lips by the mere thought of you "Well" she laughs a little "Andy was very forward, we crossed paths at a coffee shop and as I was exiting he screamed Wait! I think you're my partner to the entire shop and I genuinely thought that wasn't directed to me so I just walked out but he followed me and tapped my shoulder and told me the thing he just screamed was aimed at me, so we sat and started talking. I think everyone in this world knows they're destined to someone therefore you shouldn't be afraid of scaring" she finishes at the same time he pushes the curtain already changed That's the thing, I don't think she knows about the Connection which is so weird but he doesn't let his thoughts reflect on his face, instead he smiles at Danny "Thank you, you were very helpful" "Okay, let me see you" she turns on her job face "Please turn around" she hums looking for something that may stand out in the wrong way "I think you look great, the jacket is not too big, the boxers are up enough to see the brand but your abs can also be seen, and the jeans make your thighs look great, and this denim makes you ears stand out in very nice way. You're ready to go to make-up Taehyung" she smiles at him "Thank you Danny" he waves at her, exiting the dressing room.
"Hi handsome" someone says as soon as he exits, scaring him a little. Turning to look at the person who startled him, he finds the same leopard girl he thought was the director "Hey Taehyung, I was just coming to get you to take you to make-up" Jaehyun approaches but stops when spotting the girl "What are you doing here?" he asks "I'm here to pick him up" "The director told you to wait by your room, thus I'm asking again, what are you doing here?" "I'm just trying to show initiative, that's all" she answers with a fake sweet smile "Let's just go, yeah? We're already behind schedule because of me I don't want to keep delaying everything" Taehyung intervenes. "Yeah, you're right Tae…Lady, please take us to the make-up room" Taehyung puts himself between the wall and Jaehyun, just to be safe from the girl, watching this the girl frowns because she wants to be next to him Especially if he's wearing something so tempting. The three get to the room full of make-up suitcases "Okay, we're already you can leave now" she smirks at Jaehyun "You know make-up artists have to be alone to do the job quickly and without errors" Jaehyun growls a little bit at her but knows he can't do anything because she's right "Tae, call me if you need anything" he looks at the male leopard like saying If this crazy girl throws herself at you call me at which Taehyung only nods, and Jaehyun takes his leave.
"Okay Tae, you can sit here" she purrs the words in an attempt to sound sexy "Please don't call me Tae, only people close to me can call me that" Taehyung says in a deeper and strained tone of voice, one he uses when he's not comfortable or mad, dreading being with her and sitting in front of her "Then we can get closer, don't you think?" she trails one of her fingers up his right arm, trying to reach his exposed chest, however a male hand stops her intention "Look I really don't want to say anything to the director about your inappropriate behavior but if you continue I'm not going to have another choice but to talk to him" at this point his chest was vibrating to let out a growl, but he contained himself. Watching his face she felt a little scared but that didn't deterred her purpose This man is going to be mine, he just doesn't know it yet. I mean, we're both leopards, we obviously belong to each other. I have to be more forward with that in mind she sits in his lap, wrap her arms around his neck and brings her face closer to his, watching how her prey open his eyes wide Oh he looks so cute, and he's gonna be mine "Come on Tae, I know you don't have a partner and look at me, we would be incredible together, you're hot I'm hot, we're both leopards, and I'm just feeling this electricity between us, it's incredible" with each word her voice goes lower and her face closer I can't just toss her, it could hurt her and it would make a mess.
"Lia, what are you doing on top of Taehyung?!" A woman's voice wakes up Taehyung from his shock and stands up, trying not to toss the girl with too much force, and turns to find a familiar face "Mrs. Choi?" "Mom! What are you doing here?!" the girl screams at the woman Is she the daughter of one of the best make-up artists? Taehyung thinks "No, the one who asks questions is me. Now, what were you doing on top of him?" "Mom, we're part-" "She sat on top of me! Started touching me and saying crazy things! And we're definitely not partners, I already have one and she's at home!" it's not his intention to almost scream but that's how it comes out, he wants to be clear with anyone who's listening that he already has a partner, a very beautiful partner What? He has a partner? Well, it doesn't matter he's not marked yet which means anything can happen the other leopard in the room thinks "Oh my God Lia, I told you that if you wanted to come with me you had to behave and why was the door closed, you know that until the senior enters the apprentice can't close the door" Mrs. Choi says "Are you the one who's going to do my make-up?" Taehyung says with a hopeful tone, and he's so relieved even his ears stand up in relaxation "Yes, darling. And I'm so sorry for my daughter" hearing her mother say that Lia crosses her arms in frustration If you hadn't enter mom I could've kissed him "Now let's do your make-up quickly Taehyung, after all this isn't the first time we work together" and it's true for most of his shoots Mrs. Choi has been the one does his make-up so, by now, the know what works the best. After 15 minutes Mrs. Choi is finishing his make-up, she really wanted to finish fast after all her daughter couldn't stop looking at Taehyung and trying to touch at very chance she could get, and the boy's obviously very uncomfortable; "There, all done" she says applying a thin layer of gloss to make his lips stand a little bit, Taehyung looks at himself in the mirror in front of him "Thanks Mrs. Choi, as always your work is impeccable" the woman smiles at him "My pleasure Taehyung, will be seeing each other because of this campaign so we'll see each other soon" Taehyung stands up and exits the room listening to something along the lines of "Let's go home young lady, we need to talk about boundaries at a work place" "But m-".
"Tae, you're finally out" Jaehyun starts asking as soon as he sees Taehyung "What happened? Did that girl do something? You know what? Where's the director, he needs to know this" "Hyung, hyung!" Taehyung almost screams but at least gest Jaehyun's attention "She's Mrs. Choi's daughter, apparently wanted to learn about this world" "Mrs. Choi's daughter? But she's so ahhh" Jaehyun makes angelic noise "and that girl was so oohhh" Jaehyun makes scary noises now, which makes Taehyung laugh out loud. Hearing a deep laugh the director approaches the two young men "Taehyung, did you finish? Are you ready?" "Yes Sir" Taehyung immediately stops laughing and transforms it into a serious face "Okay, please put yourself in front of the camera" the older male chuckles softly at the nervousness of the young leopard.
Modeling comes easy for Taehyung since he was recruited at 16 years old people has praised his good looks and how natural he's in front of a camera, however he started his official career at 20 years old and he's been doing it for 5 years now. It pays the bills and lets him have a certain commodity, and now that he found you he knows he can also provide for you as well. Being in front of the camera makes Taehyung sometimes feel weird or even shy depending on the type of shoot he's doing but once he switches on his modeling talent he can only focus on what pose to next so it can come as natural as possible, something many directors like when working with him is that the leopard almost never need directions he knows which are his best poses, his best faces and most importantly knows how to use his body, which angles show, in this case, the clothes better and how can his animal features add to the mix, play with his tail or hide his ears to show something.
Because of how good he is at his job the shoots ends on time, despite Taehyung being late, and now was time to go home There's no way I'm gonna keep working when it's almost noon and Beautiful doesn't have anything to eat "Hey hyung, I'm not feeling well, I think being with that girl really disturbed me, besides I think I ate something that's bloating me. I think I should go home, tell the other shoots we can double the time when we reschedule or the can pay me less" Jaehyun couldn't say anything because Taehyung starts running to the dressing room "Hi Danny" and changes his clothes in a flash "Bye Danny", the leopard runs again and encounter the Director "Great job Director, thank you for everything, have a nice day, I look forward to the next shoot I swear I'll be on time" he bows and runs again towards his car not even paying attention to the "Taehyung's" Jaehyun is screaming.
Once inside his car he makes a plan First I need to buy her a phone, hers is obviously so old it doesn't work anymore, I have to buy one for Jiwoo too because I know how important she's to Beautiful. Second, the both need clothes just a few and the we can go together to buy more. Finally, groceries for the three of us. Parking at the mall, Taehyung goes straight to a store where he can buy the phones, for his Beautiful he buys the same one he has but pink because he saw that many of her things had that color It suits her that color he smiles at the thought, and for Jiwoo he buys same model but white. Outside of the store he looks at the watch on his wrist Damn it, there's not a lot of time adding something more to the list he goes to the food court and approaches to a Italian restaurant and orders 3 lasagnas to take, and while they're making them Taehyung goes to a store for clothes as soon as he sees a clerk similar to your body type he asks her to pick six shirts, two pair of jeans, and 4 pair of shorts It's getting hotter these days with summer approaching, he pays and goes to another store for the underwear where he basically does the same but this time with a very red face and animal ears glued to his head from embarrassment, in this store he pays even faster. He has to accept he must look like a mad man running from one place to another with a lot of bags; he gets to the restaurant and picks up what is gonna be lunch. Running again he sees his car closer and closer, he puts the lasagnas in the front seat and the rest of the bags on the back seat, once inside he takes route to the nearest supermarket around his building.
Getting off the car after parking, he takes a supermarket cart an starts going through the aisles to pick up and put inside the cart the food of his choice I just hope they like what I'm choosing, but I can always bring them with me if she wishes something else. With the supermarket already seen he approaches the cashier and pays and pack everything as fast as he can, looking at his watch once more he notices it's noon Okay I'm close just have to hurry up a little bit he tries to run with difficulty from the heavy grocery bags. This time he puts the bags on the trunk and gets up inside to start driving to the destination he wants to arrive the most Home.
Finally seeing his building he presses the gas a little bit more, once inside the parking lot, he parks next to his other car and takes out all of the boxes that despite being heavy he can carry all of them thanks to the gym and his leopard genes. He walks towards the elevator and calls it, it doesn't take long and it opens its door and he walks inside. Marking the 10th floor, he's almost buzzing with excitement, his tail is wiggling behind him in a happy manner. The elevator chimes and announces it arrived at its destination opening its doors. The leopard exists and runs for his apartment, in front of the door he opens it Finally. "I'm home"
Chapter 5
Taglist: @lovely247 @apathina @kalala22 @singukieee @tinyoonsblog @arantxaglz @btsiguess-kpop @lachimolala22019 @goldeneclipsedragon @sophiaj650 @sukunasstomachtongue @djodjom1 @uarmyhore @to-see-without-eyyes @chatsgotmytongue @kyuupidwrites @thebisexualonesworld if you don’t want to be on this taglist anymore let me know :), and if you want to be just leave a comment saying so :)
#kpop#kpop stories#kpop scenarios#bts#bts series#bts scenarios#bts hybrid series#bts hybrid au#hybrid!au#hybrid bts#hybrid au#bts hybrid x reader#bts x reader#bts poly au#ot7 x reader
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I LIED, THIS IS MY LAST IMPORTANT LETTER TO YOU AT THE MOMENT:
No but it's seriously has been such an honor liveblogging Bad on the qsmp and I'm so glad I took the chance to do so when I was thinking about whether or not to post about him here <3 While I can't say when I started posting more on my account, I can say that I'm so glad it was this community and Bad that inspired me to do so and I will forever be thankful for that <3
And I also have to say that I was glad that I took part in our little road trip to Purgatory that day and joined the bus discord since I've met so many more people even if I didn't talk there for 2 months after it opened ^^"
And now onto my favorite people (which is just all of you guys but I can only remember so many users o(-()
@alchemicaladarna You have been such a nice person to see in my notes and in my feed <3 While we don't speak much, you're a really sweet person and I'm glad I got to meet you
@anth4rax You are one of the fastest people I've met when it came to liking posts. And while you can be a tad chaotic, you're always a welcoming presence in my notes and in the bus <3 I'm really glad I've gotten to speak to you and be your friend <33
@azure-wing While I believe we don't speak much, it's always a pleasure seeing you hanging out in the bus and notifying others who's live <3
@badanddapper You posting Bad and Dapper clips have always made my day <3 Thank you <333
@baginamybeloved NIKOLA <3333 Siempre es un placer hablar contigo en español or in english and figure out if something is just a my country thing or not xD And even then, it's just a pleasure talking to you and I'm glad we've met <3333
@bixxibee Bixx!!! <3 I'm always happy to see you around and speak to you <33 You're a really nice person and I'm glad I got the chance to meet you <33
@boytoyhalo SIREN!! <3 While I think we've barely spoken, I'm always happy to see you around <33
@celluzu I don't think we've spoken before but I'm grateful for the Bad and Dapper you drew for me during the Trick or Treat on Tumblr <33
@creechurrr CREECHURRRRRRRRRR <33333333333 AUGH I LOVE WHENEVER YOU COME INTO MY ASKS YOU'RE MIND IS SO BEAUTIFUL YOU ALWAYS GET ME AND YOUR FICS ARE AMAZING <33333 AND YOU'RE SO KIND AND I'M SO GLAD I GOT TO MEET YOU <3333
@dappersautismcreature While we don't speak much, I love seeing you here and there and I loved your starhalo au's <3333 OH AND THE UM UM I FORGET WHAT IT'S CALLED BUT THE GRIM REAPER FIC ONE WAS SO GOOD <33333
@disfrutalakia Kia!!! You've always been my go-to blog for the Brazilians and Bagina and I'm so glad I got to meet you <3
@etoilesmoon One of the many people who understand me when it comes to starhalo 🤝 Hope I get to speak to you more <3
@gnostie GHOST!!! While we've only started speaking more recently, I'm so glad Mizu directed me to you when it came to clowns and just cute stuff in general <3 Ha sido un placer de conocerte <33333
@hgduo YOU GET ME. YOU F★CKING GET ME. (Also you're very cool. Tons of love to you <3)
@islayuri YOU'RE SO TALENTED OH MY GOD YOU'RE ART MAKES ME WANT TO EXPLODE <33333
@kadextra KADE. KADE. YOU'RE ART AND YOUR THEORIES AND THE BLACK SIGN STUFF. <3333333 And not only that, but you're such a sweet and talented person <333 Sending you lots of love <3333
@kaijuparfait PARFAIT!!! <333 It's been a pleasure talking to you about starhalo in the past and now more recently hearing (or more so reading) about Godzilla and how it fits Bad <33 Glad I met you <33333
@karoo-o LOVE YOUR ART AND IT WAS AN HONOR MAKING A PLAYLIST FOR YOU DURING THE VALENTINE EXCHANGE <3333
@kays-artstuff Even if you don't do much qsmp art, I'm always so glad to see you in my notes and I love seeing your art, it's so 💥💥💥💥💥
@l3m-n LEM!! While I rarely see you now, it was a pleasure talking to you here and there <33
@little-soldiers We've spoken here and there but you were such an inspiration for me to write out a little fic and I still hold on to that encouragement whenever I want to write something but don't think it'll be well <333 Thank you <3333
@lunaeclipse1057-ao3 LUNAAAAAAAAAA <3333333 While I've already said this, you're genuinely a sweet person even if we've barely spoken and I hope I still see you around <33333333
@lxrd-ren While I don't think you open Tumblr anymore, I just want you to know that you were and always will be the best bus buddy ever <33
@mizuski-broken MIZUUUUUUUUUU OH GOD WHERE DO I BEGIN?????? You always get me when it comes to the paranormal and you're just such a nice person to be around with <3333 I'm so glad I got to meet you and consider you a friend of mine <33333333
@muffinclutch Love seeing you in my notes <333 Hope to see you around <3333
@qsmprambling Always glad to see you around <3333
@starscollide0 YOU'RE ART IS SO 💥💥💥💥💥🔥🔥🔥🔥💥💥💥 And you're also such a nice person <3333 I hope to see you around <3333333333
@tubborucho LISS!! I'm always happy to see you around and you're truly the go to soulfire/tubhalo person <3 Lots of love to you <333333
@ultra-raging-ghost Ghost!!! It's always such a pleasure seeing you out and about whether it be you drawing or talking about mainly ayhalo and cucuhalo to in my notes, I'm always glad to see you <333 Hope to talk to you more <333333
And of course to many others like the people in my notes (@toxic-foolhalo-yuri, @j3ssicaangel, @fl10werc4t, @kayleighthekoala, @starriknight, @mystifiedmystery, @nightlight26, etc.) and everyone on the bus like Theo, Zero, Brubs, Zunto, March, Tannin, Des, Nico, and so so many others!!!! <3 Thank you again for this wonderful experience and trust me when I say, I will always be here <3333
- Yours truly, Star ★
#Thought I'd do one while we're at it cause why not#I feel like the shorter messages seem like I don't care much BUT I DO TRUST ME I THINK YOU'RE REALLY COOL#anyways love you guys <333 I'll see you when Bad goes live <3333#qsmp#qsmpblr
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✨Hello hello!✨
I'm Amethyst (she/her), and I'm your local fanfic gremlin. I've written a lot for a lot of fandoms, right now I am caught in the Hermit/Traffic/Empires brainrot, and if that's how you've ended up here, welcome welcome!
The tag for my random blog stuff is: #amethyst rambles
And I also always post here whenever I post on A03, be it with a new chapter or an entirely new story! #amethyst updates
Right now, I have two WIP AUs!
Through the Sky-Blue Cracks 🌤️
My Hot Guy/Cute Guy, Over-City/Under-City AU that has a lot more going on in it now, it's grown pretty big and is organized in chronological order, not by publishing order, so I write up and down on the timeline filling in parts and pieces as I go!
TTSBC takes place in a modern/slightly sci-fi AU with superheroes, biotech, secrets to hide, trauma to unpack, and as much humor as I can attempt to fit in as well!
Features the local superheroes crushing on each other, anxious writer meets intrepid reporter, the drama professors who can't keep their hands to themselves, penpals gone wild, resident middle-aged married couple who happen to be a mobster and a mad genius, the local cottagecore lesbians, bad boy butterfly and cat lady, protective big sister, Zom-Mom and Sentient Glowstick, a very tired Guy-in-the-Chair with a permanent headache, and more yet to be added! I've got lots of plans left for this AU, so if you're interested, please come check it out!
Tags for the AU are:
#through the sky blue cracks
#ttsbc au
#ttsbc ficlets
Traveling Thieves 🪽
My dark fantasy AU! This one has some heavy themes going on, so I'd encourage reading the tags carefully before jumping in! I'm very proud of how it is turning out, dealing with breaking out conditioned headspaces, survival in a sick system, negotiating power imbalance, the power of friendship (no, really), and of course we've got elves, mercenaries, magic, swords, sorcery, rogues, redstone, and lots more fun stuff like that! Also lots of adorable birbs, one traumatized fiery boy, a mer with an attitude, a good doggo, and hurt/comfort galore! Giving everyone a chance to believe that they've all got a shot at getting lucky.
Tags for the AU are:
#traveling thieves au
#traveling thieves ficlets
Amethysts Scribbling Corner 📝
A little side project of mine to try and stretch my writing style!
My prompt requests are always open! I do not promise to fulfill anything, nor do I promise to fulfill anything within a reasonable time frame, BUT if you have any sort of thoughts/requests/recommendations I absolutely love to hear them and engage with them!
They can be as broad as a simple one-word prompt, or you can even give a brief description of a couple of sentences!
Feel free to request where you want the fic to take place, too! Especially when we're talking Hermit/Traffic/Empires stuff, if you want it to be within the Minecraft server world of that specific series, within a certain one of the Life Series, a modern AU, a fantasy AU...or even TTSBC or Traveling Thieves if you have ideas for them!
Just know that if anything requested for TTSBC or Traveling Thieves contradicts or maybe overlaps with any future plans for those AUs, I might not be able to accept them 😓
As far as rules go...I do not write NSFW. I am happy to write romance and let things get a little spicy 🔥 but keep in mind I'll always end up fading to black...also no heavy gore, body horror, things of that nature. I am very much a fan of writing whump and hurt/comfort though, so please send those ideas my way!
When I need some inspiration I dip into the request bin, and I keep all the requests I receive stored for future reference!
Tags for the series are:
#amethysts scribbling corner
I think that's all that going on with me right now...so yeah! I use this blog for my scribbling corner prompts as well as asks about any of my AUs or writing projects! I love getting the chance to ramble about my worldbuilding, so by all means, give me an excuse and I will make entire posts about that sort of thing!
My DMs are open and I promise I'm not scary! I love rambling and making fandom friends, so feel free to reach out if you wanna chat!
Thanks for coming by! 💖
#intro post#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#hermitcraft#traffic smp#through the sky blue cracks#hermitshipping#worldbuilding#trafficshipping#life series#empires smp#traveling thieves au#amethysts scribbling corner#amethyst rambles#ttsbc#ttsbc au
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Kinda want to write a one-sided ronance post S4 au (within a fix it obvs) where the older teens start actually hanging out and Stobin (eventually + Vickie)confuse literally everyone. They greet each other with cheek kisses, call each other babe (or "Stevie Baby". Listen. Robin calls him bud or buddy or bub or bubba or babe and it's like why so many B's?? Argyle is vibing with it though and joins the bud train) and one time at two in the morning had a coordinated ramble about the names of the cats they will eventually get. (Sassafras, moonshine, and Garborator)
Nancy and Steve haven't really talked about anything, other than Steve saying "hey. I'm sorry if whatever I said weirded you out. I was definitely a bit delirious and Robin and Eddie AND Dustin were all making comments about winning you back or whatever which is stupid, you made it clear where you stood with me. Which wasn't with me. That's fine. and like. Okay yeah when we were together I'd daydream about you being beside me in the motorhome but thats-- it was a daydream. I was sort of thinking I was gonna die and. I wanted to share a little dream that made me happy. And then got everything confused in my head and made it weird and I'm sorry. what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry for being weird and making things uncomfortable. I'm over you. I loved you then, and you were my first real love, and maybe if things were different I could love you like that again but. But neither of us want that or the same things out of life. And we'd crash and burn again. Plus you and Jonathan are together which is a non-starter. Cannot believe I forgot that when it was happening. Jesus. So. Yeah. Sorry for being not a great friend and hitting on you in the Upside Down." And Nancy had nodded and told him not to worry about it. He had been sort of bleeding out and planning on going back into the upside down. They could both be normal about it.
Sometimes Nancy and Robin try to have "girl time" at Nancy's suggestion because they're the only girls in the older group (sometimes. But Robin is not going to let that slip out) but it's awkward without a buffer. Robin is too nervous and rambles and Nancy is too annoyed by it. But they do get on well in group settings, and Steve and Argyle are actually the keenest to smooth over any awkwardness.
Robin laughs more with the group, and grins at Steve and smirks at Eddie and has a sharp tongue Nancy can admire. She's more comfortable with Steve around, insisting he sit beside her or on the ground in front of her so she can play with his hair. (And Nancy is shocked the first time she sees it, because Steve was notoriously protective of his "best feature", but she'd asked and he'd hummed quietly as she takes her fingers through his hair and put tiny, lopsided braids in it.) It's nice to see Robin less jumpy, and wonders what it would take to see more of the side of her Nancy only sees when Steve's around. She just wants to get closer to Robin. Wants a friend.
And somehow, beyond Nancy's notice, Steve and Robin's friend Vickie slowly joins the group. She wasn't involved at all in the spring, but has been hanging around Family Video and a movie night or two often enough that when she settles more permanently in the group it isn't a very big surprise. Eddie and Argyle welcome her in with open arms, Jonathan is only his normal amount of weary of new people, and obviously Robin and Steve are excited for their friends to be friends.
But it just doesn't sit right with Nancy. She can't pinpoint why, it just doesn't. When she sees Robin and Vickie giggling together, or having some back and forth banter that seems to feed into both of them smiling, or Steve throwing his arm over her shoulder, or Vickie leaning into Robin's space as they talk. She always sits beside Robin, Steve on the other, with Eddie beside him. It's usually a tight fit for whatever couch they're on, but the four seem happy as clams to not have any personal space. Once Argyle decided to lay across all their laps, and they just...let him. Finangled themselves so everyone was mostly comfortable.
Nancy figures she is uncomfortable with it because she hasn't ever had a close friend since Barb, and was possibly hoping she could be close to Robin along those lines. So seeing her so close with the others and mildly uncomfortable around her hurt, and seeing her and Steve incorporate someone unversed in the Upside Down into their little trauma club also hurt. Because what did Vickie have that Nancy didn't? That made Steve and Robin and now Eddie stick to her like glue? That made them want her there when she didn't know anything about what they'd been through and could probably never understand?
What made Vickie Summers so special that she's taken what should have been Nancy's place beside her friends? Because that's what really bothered her. It wasn't that Vickie didn't know, it's that Nancy felt she took her place. That Nancy wanted to be where Vickie was, and she didn't know how to ask for it. Asking, trying to talk about how Steve and Robin had bonded so well after Starcourt while she ignored them and then how they bonded with and absorbed Eddie halfway into their bizarre dynamic after vecna, would feel too much like begging or admitting that she isn't quite sure how to make friends.
Nancy is jealous. Jealous that she isn't friends like Vickie and Eddie and Steve and Robin are. That she isn't the one making Robin smile and giggle so cutely. So. She tries harder. Tries to be the friend that Robin and Eddie and even Steve deserve. She tries not to be annoyed by Robin rambling (it really isn't that bad, just. Not relevant. She likes heading Robin's voice, but thinks she could really work on having a filter.), or the way Steve always asks clarifying questions when he should really have known better, or Eddie talking half in different character voices. She thinks it's getting better, her relationship with them. But, still, Vickie is always there, glued to Robin's side almost as much as Steve is, and that always annoys Nancy. Niggles at her brain, that she doesn't deserve to be there because she didn't know what Robin had lived through and fought. Nancy did.
Eventually, Nancy figures out that she wants more from Robin. Doesn't want to be a friend she smiles at occasionally, wants to be the reason she smiles all the time. And that's terrifying. Because Nancy had never considered liking girls, never thought liking girls was a thing she could do. It was something other women did, not Nancy. She liked boys and always had, but. But maybe she always liked girls...too. maybe it wasn't something she that was one or the other. Being different in a town like Hawkins puts a target on your back, being queer in a town like Hawkins even moreso.
She's leaving Hawkins in the fall. But she thinks she wants someone to come home to. She wants Robin to come home to. Robin and Steve seem to be okay with it, from what she can glean of some veiled comments they've made that she's only caught now she's looking for them. They've made some remarks around the kids that make it seem like they'd be safe to come to, no matter what. And sometimes, some of the comments Robin makes about actresses seem a little...well. admiring.
They probably, hopefully, wouldn't hate her for this. And now Nancy and Robin have a friendship, she thinks she can. It's early July, and Nancy is going to ask Robin out.
She gets her alone, bites her lip, and asks Robin in no uncertain terms to go out on a date with her. Robin stares, mouth agape.
"oh," she says.
Nancy smiles, a little. "Yeah. So. What do you say?"
Robin blinks, and takes a shuddering breath. "Oh my god. I. Nancy I'm really flattered but I'm no-i dont- uhg. I'm dating someone." she groans, rubbing her hands over her face.
And oh. Nancy read the situation wrong "oh. Steve. It's fine! You don't like girls, thats--thats totally fine! Id just, um. That is,-"
Robin waves her hands. "No, no! I'm not dating Steve! You clocked me correctly. Definitely gay! Don't worry about that! Hah."
Something in Nancy twists. "Oh?"
"yeah. Yep. Not only am I a lesbian in a small town, I'm a lesbian in a small town that somehow also has a girlfriend." Robin says the word dreamily. Like she still can't believe it. Nancy's brain fills with static. She was too late. Too caught up with how she missed so many chances in the past, that she missed her chance now.
But Robin keeps talking. "And, like. Even if I didn't, I don't think it would have worked between us anyways. Too different, y'know?"
"what?"
Robin gestures with her hands between them. "Well, like. I like being your friend. But, I mean, I wouldn't date you?"
"why not?"
Blinking, Robin tilts her head. "Because of Steve?"
Something bubbles hot in Nancy. "What the fuck does Steve have to do with wether or not we would date?"
"Nancy. Steve's my best friend." As though that explains anything.
"yes? And?"
Robin looks uncomfortable, shifting sideways. "listen, Nancy. You're a good friend. And I've just rejected you. Maybe we should just. Ah. Leave this? I'm really sorry. I'll give you some space, just find me when you're ready?"
"no. What do you mean that we couldn't date because Steve is your best friend? Why would that have any effect on how you date?"
"it doesn't! Not really! Just. Nancy, you broke his heart. His soft, squishy heart! You kinda sorta cheated on him-details very unclear-and then just. Moved on. Pretended like nothing happened. I couldn't do that to Steve. Dating a friend's ex is a bad move. Dating an ex that broke a friend's heart is just cruel." She sighs. Looks sad. As though she isn't the one rejecting Nancy and tearing her apart for how a relationship ended almost two years ago. What did that matter, now? "You're my friend, Nancy. I like you! But even if Steve has moved on, forgiven and forgotten, and if things were a bit different given his full support for us dating if that's what I wanted, I think I'll always remember how he-- how much it hurt him."
"oh"
"I'm. Nancy I'm really sorry. I know how scary it is to put yourself out there, especially like this. It's not fair. I'm just sorry. But. It was true. Steve's the most important person to me. I couldn't ever hurt him. Not like that. Not even if he said he was fine with it."
Nancy stands and walks away. She doesn't cry until she locks her bedroom door.
#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#stranger things#ronance#one sided crush#spicy six#steve harrington#i just think a confrontation between robin and nancy would be really interesting#and robins feelings about things between nancy and Steve and how that would be something of a non starter for a romantic relationship#even if steve was like super cool with it i dont think robin 'held a grudge agaisnt steve for a year bc her crush had a crush on him'#would axtually let it go#and also nancy wanting friends! give her friends. i have so many emotions about nancy not really having friends#since barb died. :( i want her to have friends that she isnt dating ir wants to date!!!#finda writes stuff#finda's rambles#implied ships are#steddie#robin x vickie#robickie
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Boudoir photoshoot
PAIRING | Husband!Dad!Young!Tony Stark x Wife!Mom!Pregnant!Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT | 3K
SUMMARY | Your wedding anniversary with Tony is coming up, and because of that, you venture out and make a special present for him. After some searching, you decide to go for a boudoir photoshoot, which will make a perfect maternity shoot. When Tony opens the present, he can't believe his eyes, and the two of you never leave the house on the night of your anniversary.
RATING | Explicit (E)
WARNINGS/TAGS | Established relationship (husband/wife), Use of nicknames (Sunshine, Love/My Love, Babygirl, Sleepyhead), references to being sick (non-explicit)
SMUT | Dirty talk, daddy kink, breeding/pregnancy kink, lactation kink, hair pulling, oral (F receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!).
A/N | I won't lie; these two have my heart, and I am so happy to bring more of this beautiful couple to your screens! This was an absolute hoot to write, and I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading and the continuous support while writing this! You're an angel, and I'm very happy to call you my best friend! Thank you for everything you do for me and my blog. I couldn't do any of it without you, and I love you deeply 💜
EVENTS
Masterlist | @fluffbruary Fluffbruary '24 | Photography
Masterlist | @sweetspicybingo Sweethearts | Perfect
Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Photo: Source
Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | AU Masterlist
It's a peaceful morning for you and your husband, Tony, as you spend quality time together in bed. Now that your twins, Hudson and Orion, are nine years old, you have a lot more time in the mornings to enjoy each other's attention, and you're getting a lot since you're pregnant with your third baby. Tony can't keep his eyes - or hands - off you and your belly, constantly showering you with nothing but love and praise.
You're currently straddled on Tony's lap as he's sitting with his back against the headboard, and you're wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a football jersey that spans pretty tightly over your belly, showing it off perfectly. Both yours and his hands are on it as you're feeling your son kick, making you giggle in response.
''I still can't quite believe I'm going to have another little miracle baby with you,'' Tony says with a large grin as he leans in to capture your lips, but before he can reach them, you hear a knock on the door, and your daughter Orion's soft voice through the door.
''Mommy? I'm not feeling so well,'' she says softly, and your heart breaks as you hear it. You try to gracefully climb off Tony's lap before opening the bedroom door for your daughter. She walks in and immediately wraps her arms around you, and all she wants is some time with you as you hear her soft sniffles.
''Can you tell me what's wrong, Babygirl?" you say with a concerned voice as you carefully tuck some hair behind her ear. Tony has also gotten out of bed, crouching before Orion to see what's happening with her.
''I-I feel s-sick,'' she tells you, and Tony reaches his hand up to her forehead, feeling to see if she has a fever.
''You're burning up, Babygirl; I will get you some medicine if you go into bed and cuddle with Mommy; how does that sound?'' Tony asks her, and she nods before peeling her arms away from you and grabbing your hand so you can walk her to the bed and climb in with her. When you're both comfortable and pull her close, Tony is on his way to get Orion the medicine, but not before stopping to see how Hudson's doing.
''Good morning, Sleepyhead,'' Tony says as Hudson still wakes up from the night's sleep, but a delighted smile spreads across his features as he hears his Dad. One big difference between your twins is that Hudson is a morning person, while Orion is not, making you laugh each time you think about it.
''Good morning, Daddy! Did you know Orion is feeling sick? She told me her tummy and head hurt,'' Hudson tells him enthusiastically as he sits up in bed before moving into Tony's lap, ready for his morning cuddles.
''I know, Baby Boy; she came to us not too long ago, so now she and Mommy are cuddling in the big bed! But that's why I'm here. Do you want to cuddle with Mommy and your sister? That way, you can all have a big cuddle fest while I make breakfast for all of us,'' Tony tells him, a flood of warmth and love going through him as he looks at his son, a beautiful copy of you.
''Yes, please!'' he says before bringing his teddy bear and Orion's favorite stuffed animal to your bedroom and joining you in bed so Tony can get Orion's medicine.
''Mommy! I'm here to cuddle too!'' he says enthusiastically before climbing in the bed, planting a big kiss on your cheek that has you giggling, and handing Orion her stuffed animal, which she happily accepts.
''Do you guys want to feel your little brother kicking? He's very active this morning, and I know you both enjoy it when he's busy in Mommy's tummy,'' you offer, and they both laugh as your son is kicking while Tony walks in. He takes in the sight of his beautiful wife, his twins, and the baby inside your belly, unable to hold back a few tears of happiness. His biggest dream has come true; he has the family he has always wanted.
''Can you sit up for me, Babygirl? I have your medicine that will make you feel all better soon! After that, you can have more cuddles with Mommy and Hudson,'' Tony says as he walks around the bed, giving his daughter the medicine and a big kiss on her forehead. Now, all that's left to do is wait for it to kick in as the cuddles continue.
When Tony has prepared breakfast, he decides everyone will have breakfast in bed, and not long after he brings it, all of it is gone.
''How're you feeling now, Babygirl?'' you ask Orion after she ate her breakfast, already feeling much better than when she woke up.
''I'm better now, Mommy,'' she said in a sleepy voice, and it's your cue to bring her to her bed and let her get a few more hours of sleep. Tony will be home today, so you call the school, letting them know Orion will stay home for the day. When that's all done, it's finally time to get ready, as you have an important appointment in the afternoon.
Your second wedding anniversary with your husband, Tony, is coming up in two months, and you've considered what you would give him for the past few weeks. It just so happened that not too long ago, you were having a girl's night with Natasha and Wanda when the topic of a boudoir photoshoot came up, and since then, you've been doing some research about it.
''So, as you know, Tony and I will be married for two years in a few months, and I want to give him something special. Do either of you have any ideas?'' you ask as you sit with your legs stretched out on Natasha's couch, one of your hands resting on your pregnant belly, the other holding a cup of tea.
''What about a boudoir photoshoot? I think it will look very sexy as you're posing in lingerie with that beautiful belly of yours,'' Wanda offers, and you raise a brow at her, as you've never heard of that before. Your interest is immediately piqued, though.
''Boudoir photography is a form of professional photography that is intimate, flattering the curves and beauty of a woman's body. You're dressed in beautiful lingerie, and it will be done in a bedroom setting to enhance the feeling of romance,'' Wanda tells you, and it sounds like the perfect plan.
You have found a reputable photographer by the name of Steve Rogers, who has done this type of shoot before, as well as many different ones, so you're very confident the photos will come out beautiful. You have been hunting for a stunning outfit during the shoot, ultimately finding something that has your heart beating faster as you see it, and you know Tony will love it when he sees the photos.
You have decided on an all-black lingerie set that shows off every curve of your body perfectly while allowing your tattoos to shine, as they'll be the vocal point of the shoot, along with the lingerie and your baby bump. When it's finally time to go, the nerves settle in a bit, but you don't show any of them to Tony; as far as he knows, you'll grab some lunch with Natasha, who has happily said she'll cover for you. The drive to Steve's photography studio isn't far, and you arrive about ten minutes early, giving you plenty of time to go to the toilet before the shoot. You love your son deeply, but the fact that he's constantly leaning on your bladder is something you could happily do without.
As you walk in, you nearly run into a tall man with long, blonde hair, a beard, broad shoulders, and muscles for days. You can't stop apologizing profusely as you didn't look where you were going, almost bumping into the man while looking at your phone to find out where you needed to go.
''I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to- to run into you,'' you tell him, stumbling over your words as the embarrassment rises and a bright red flush covers your cheeks and neck.
''Hey, it's okay! It happens,'' he says, and a kind smile brightens his features. That's when he sticks out a large hand, introducing himself as Steve Rogers, the photography studio owner - and the person taking your photos today. You gladly take his hand, presenting yourself as well. Something about his presence calms you down immediately, and you're suddenly pleased you ran into him, as your nerves are gone completely.
''I'll show you the way to the dressing room, and there's a robe for you to wear if it makes you more comfortable,'' he tells you, and you nod before following him, ready to get dressed into the lingerie and prepared to have the photoshoot. You have done plenty of research, so you know what to expect. It doesn't surprise you to see the professional setup in the studio, where Steve is currently prepping the camera for all the photos.
As soon as you're done, you walk into the studio, leaving the robe behind as you're very comfortable in your skin, and you would have to take it off eventually.
''Where do you want me?'' you ask, and Steve looks up at you, directing you to the middle of the room first, where there's a large bed with white sheets on it, giving it a simple look, but it'll be perfect for the shoot.
''During the shoot, you can take on any position you're comfortable in, and since we're doing half maternity shoot and half boudoir shoot, we will have some more sensual poses as well. We can start on the bed and work our way through the shoot from there; we'll have two hours to do the entire shoot so that we can take out rime,'' he tells you in his soft, calming voice, and you get ready for the shoot. About an hour and a half later, you're all done, and Steve beckons you over to look through the photos, picking out some of your favorites already.
''When is your baby due?'' Steve asks when you're looking through the photos and pointing at the ones that grab your attention. A big smile appears when you think about the little boy growing in your belly, and you happily tell him about the small baby you will have in a few months.
''If everything goes well, we will have a beautiful baby boy in January next year! This will be our third as I've already given birth to the most amazing set of twins,'' you tell him proudly, all while your hands constantly rub your belly. Once the two of you have gone through all of them, you're ready to head home, and two weeks later, the photos are done, and a beautiful album is made, which you'll pick up at Steve's studio to keep a surprise for as long as possible.
The day of your anniversary is here, and you have just put on the new maternity dress you bought for dinner tonight. You have arranged for Hudson and Orion to sleep over at Howard an Maria's house, so you would have the entire evening ready to have an amazing date night with delicious food. But first, you're trying to surprise Tony, as you're getting impatient for his reaction.
''My Love? I have a surprise for you," you tell Tony as you walk into the bedroom as you're getting a look at him with his dress shirt open and his pants low on his hips, giving you the ultimate look at every single ridge and muscle, making you clench your thighs. It's no secret you're constantly aroused when you look at him, but now that you're pregnant it is only intensified, which is something he will happily help you out with.
''Oh, more surprises? I thought that dress was already the biggest one of the night because you look fucking delicious in it, Sunshine,'' he nearly growls, and a wave of arousal flows through you, your panties getting wet at the thought of what he will do to you.
''Yeah, I had this done a while back for you, and I really couldn't wait any longer to show it to you,'' you tell him, handing him the photo album that's wrapped up in red wrapping paper, a golden bow around it to finish it off. The bow and paper are ripped off quickly before he opens it, and is greeted by all the photos of you in some of the sexiest lingerie he's ever seen you wear.
He flips through every single photo before saying anything, taking his time to enjoy every single curve you've shown, every tattoo on display, and every inch of skin exposed in the photos. All while he's getting increasingly more hard in his pants, straining painfully against his boxer briefs by the time he closes the book, his pupils completely dilated with pure lust.
You don't get much time before he has you completely naked on the bed, your thighs spread with his shoulders as his thumb is pressed against your clit, making you writhe with pleasure, his tongue dipping in and out of your entrance as he licks up every last drop of your arousal.
''Hmm, look at this perfect pussy, so tight and delicious for me,'' he groans, and you moan as he continues his earlier actions, your back arching when his arms wrap around your thigh, ensuring you're not going anywhere unless he lets you. He's taking full control of you, and you happily let him.
Broken moans and soft whines leave your lips as your hands grab his hair, pulling hard as he brings you closer to the edge with his tongue.
''D-Daddy, please! Wanna cum for you,'' you whine, and a wicked smile appears on Tony's lips as he looks at you through his lashes, speeding up with his tongue before moving back to your clit and wrapping his lips around it until you're cumming for him. The fact that you call him Daddy only spurs him on more, as he's extremely hard in his pants, his balls full of cum that he can't wait to fuck into you.
''Alright then, cum for me, Sunshine, and when you do, I'll fuck you until you're completely fucked dumb, stuffing you full of every last drop of my cum. Is that what you want? Want Daddy to breed you? Too bad you're already pregnant. Otherwise, I would have gotten you so fucking pregnant tonight!" he tells you between deep groans.
"God, you look so fucking sexy with his belly of yours, carrying our child, going to keep you pregnant forever, Sunshine, breed you so you're always nice and round for me,'' he tells you as his fingers plunge in and out of your entrance, his thumb stimulating your clit. Together with his words, you're cumming with a shout of his name, legs shaking uncontrollably as you grip the sheets to ground yourself.
Once he's worked you through your orgasm, he spreads your thighs again before sitting on his knees and lining up with your pussy, impatient to finally fuck you the way he so badly wants. When you're pregnant, you're practically insatiable, and Tony isn't one to deny you when you're so perfect for him, begging him sweetly to fuck you. With a sharp, well-aimed thrust, he slides in, hitting your sweet spot immediately as your eyes roll back into your head, moaning your name loudly.
''Look at you, Sunshine, already such a fucked out mess for Daddy, and I haven't even fucked you yet,'' he says as he sets a good pace, not too rough as he's trying to take his time. However, it's hard for him as he wants to cum inside you, but he needs one more orgasm before he will even think about himself. You will never be left unsatisfied, not on his watch.
''Such a sweet, wet pussy for me to fuck, Sunshine; we'll make such a mess when I cum for you! Gonna fuck every single drop of my cum deep into this pussy before watching it drip out of you, seeing how beautiful this pussy looks when it's leaking with my cum,'' he says through gritted teeth, his thumb quickly finding its place on your clit since he's very close to cumming.
''And these beautiful tits of yours, they're so fucking perfect, Sunshine! So full of milk for me soon. I can't fucking wait to drink from them again and lap up every single drop of your sweet milk; that's what you want, too, isn't it? To have Daddy suck on these beautiful, heavy, round tits of yours?" he asks, and you let out a broken 'yes' between the moans falling from your lips, though you're not entirely sure what you're saying yes to, the pleasure taking you over completely.
''First, you need to cum for me, Sunshine! Cum for Daddy, and I will stuff you so fucking full with my cum! My balls are so full and heavy for you, just for you, my beautiful Sunshine,'' he tells you before your orgasm washes over you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs, shortly after followed by Tony, who shoots every drop of his cum deep inside your pussy, just like he told you. When he has worked you both through your highs, he collapses next to you on the bed, all while praising how good you are for him and how perfect you are.
The rest of the night, Tony switches between giving attention to your breasts and sensitive nipples, suckling, licking, and tugging them until you're begging him to stop, and making nothing but love to you as you're celebrating your second wedding anniversary. By the time your alarm shows you it's 5 AM, you're finally being pulled into a deep, dreamless sleep as you're lying in your husband's arms, and you couldn't have wished for a better way to celebrate your love with the love of your life.
#fluffbruary 2024#sweetspicyhearts#tony stark#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark fanfic#tony stark one shot#tony stark imagine#tony stark x female!reader#tony stark x reader#tony stark x y/n#tony stark fluff#tony stark smut#young tony stark#young tony stark fanfiction#young tony stark fanfic#young tony stark one shot#young tony stark imagine#young tony stark x female reader#young tony stark x reader#young tony stark x y/n#young tony stark fluff#young tony stark smut
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Lose My Mind | Wonwoo
Pairing: Wonwoo x (f)reader
Genre: angst, smut
AU: established relationship, biker!au
Wordcount: 5,722
Summary: you can only deal with your fiancé’s antics for so long before you finally give up.
Warnings: Language, fighting/violence, blood, cleaning of wounds, wonwoo gets slapped, much angst, smut, oral, unprotected sex (wrap it pls), creampie, cum eating.
Rating: M/18+
AN: Happy Birthday to my soulmate @playmetheclassics! I love you so very much, I'm so happy to have met you and can't wait for the day I can hug you for real and I hope you enjoy this lovely pile of angst with a dash of smut. First time writing from someone not reader’s POV so I apologize in advance if it’s eh at all. Trying to improve my skills. Thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil for beta-reading, and @classicscreations for the banner/divider. Enjoy!!! 💜
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“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live this life with you if this is how you’re going to be, Wonwoo.”
The memory plays back in his mind clear as day as he spins the engagement ring around on the sticky counter.
“I love you so much, I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks as the tears stream down your cheeks. He wants to wipe them away, wants to change your mind. But he can’t. He knows he can’t. So he lets you take his hand in yours, setting the engagement ring he worked so hard to find just for you in his palm and letting go.
How could he have fucked this up so badly?
He met you four years ago at some party he couldn’t remember the host of if he tried. You were in skin tight jeans, a lacy bodysuit leaving very little to the imagination, boots, and a motorcycle jacket on top.
The definition of perfection in Wonwoo’s eyes.
Alcohol brought you two together quickly, and soon after sobering up while talking to you, had you on his motorcycle as he drove through the city to his place where you two had sex into the early hours of the morning. The way you moaned his name, nails scraping down his back as you clenched around him had him seeing stars and finally believing in something, anything, because you existed.
You ghosted him for a month and he was going insane. Just one night with you was addicting enough that he needed more. He needed you around him at all times. He needs you on the back of his bike, your arms tight around his waist as you clung to him for dear life.
He finally found you at another party, cornering you in a room and demanding you explain why you ghosted him.
“Had to see if you were worth it. If you really wanted me or if you were just drunk and horny.”
He cut off any further explanation with his lips against yours, roughly fucking you against the wall when you said the word please.
Two years later, he’s hopelessly in love with you and you are with him. He had introduced you to his biker gang, which you thought was adorable at first, but soon grew to have a love/hate relationship with. You became friends with the other significant others of the gang, all of you often worrying about your men getting into trouble. The others treated it like a joke, but you genuinely worried every day and night for him.
He often came home with bruises or a cut lip. He wouldn’t tell you what happened. He couldn’t. It always led to a fight. Which would then lead to angry makeup sex. He’d promise to lessen the fighting and you’d stupidly believe him. Every. Time.
The third year, he wound up in the hospital you worked at after a car merged into him when he was in their blind spot. You told him to get rid of the bike, to just get a car and be safe. He refused. You were mad, but you loved him enough to stay home with him and help him get better.
The day he proposed, you two were at a bar, surrounded by his crew. Mingyu handed you a shot, saying congratulations, not realizing Wonwoo hadn’t proposed yet. When you looked at him, it made Wonwoo want to tear Mingyu apart for spoiling it. He took you away from the group, taking you outside where it was snowing. He stood you next to his bike, getting down on one knee and showing the ring, asking you to be his forever.
He swore he understood the entire universe when you said yes and put the ring on.
That stupid ring.
That stupid ring he can't stop playing with as he fights the urge to throw it against the wall with the liquor bottles.
“Wonwoo? It’s three in the morning, where have you been?” Your voice is laced with exhaustion, worry, fear, and anger.
He hates that tone. But it’s nothing compared to the tone that always follows next.
“I got sidetracked with the guys.”
“Sidetracked? Are you serious?” There it is.
He tries to sidestep you in the dark living room, hoping you don’t see his face. But you do.
Because you know.
You always know.
You’ve known since the beginning.
He fights. Late at night in the back room of a dirty bar. He fights.
And he wins.
Usually.
Your hand reaches for his forearm as he tries to move past you. You’re smaller than he is, but you have a control over him that he’ll never understand. He puts it down as either you being in the medical field or simply his love for you and the way he’d walk on fire for you.
He winces when you drag him to the bathroom, flicking on the light and making him sit on the edge of the tub while you acquire the first aid kit. He watches you move, you still haven’t looked at him. Your body moves around the bathroom like it’s done this a hundred times before, setting up the counter with everything needed to clean wounds and stitch up the hits he received.
When you finally turn back to him, putting on the disposable gloves, your eyes avoid his, grabbing his hands and assessing the damage. You let go of one of them, keeping his dominant hand in yours as you turn back to the counter to grab what you need.
“Y/n…”
He’s cut off by your perfectly timed and nowhere near gentle application of rubbing alcohol. He takes it as a threat to be quiet, so he does. He watches you work, cleaning his knuckles before adding medication to them and bandaging him up. You quietly repeat the action on the other hand, this time a little gentler with the alcohol.
“Jacket.” You mutter it softly, and he’s quick to obey, shedding the leather jacket that reeks of beer, liquor, and a dirty room, without making much movement. You inspect his arms, seeing only hints of bruises forming, but no blood or dislocations. Not this time at least. As if routine, he removes his shirt too, letting you access the hits he got to the chest and back. Nothing this time.
Your hands delicately hold his face, your eyes continuing to avoid his gaze. His eyes follow yours as you analyze his injuries, preparing in your mind what you need to do. All part of the routine, he thinks.
You turn back to the counter, hesitating.
“Where are your glasses?” You ask, turning back to him, pouring some alcohol on a pad.
“I…I lost them.”
You sigh, dabbing the alcohol harshly against his eyebrow, letting him wince in pain.
“Where are your glasses?” You ask again, with a hint of anger in your voice. He knows he can’t get away with lying.
“They broke.”
“How’d you get home?”
“My bike.”
He wasn’t prepared for the sharp slap across his face.
All the punches he’s received in his fights, all the hits and kicks and cuts and bruises, all felt like nothing in comparison to that slap.
But he doesn’t react. He sits and he waits for whatever’s next because this isn’t part of the routine. When he fights, his glasses are tucked away somewhere safe and he puts in his contacts, tearing them out once he’s done and the glasses go back on when he’s back on the bike so he can see on his way home.
Your eyes finally meet his, and it feels like the earth is about to swallow him whole. The betrayal and the sadness in your eyes just enhance the pain from the slap. You say nothing, and neither does he as you turn back to the counter to quickly put everything together.
You silently get back to work, cleaning up the rest of the injuries, turning back to the counter to open up the little tube of glue he knows you hate using. He’s seen you at work doing this, you’re great at it. But that’s because it’s your job and you’re good at your job. And it’s also in a perfectly clean and sanitary place. But in your bathroom, at three in the morning, patching up the man you love? It’s a complete one-eighty. And he sees the fear in the way your hands shake, the way a single tear falls from your eye as you turn back to him.
He closes his eyes as you take a deep breath, trusting you completely.
His nails dig into his knees the moment the tube makes contact, the glue seeping into the wound, forcing himself not to move or react to the pain of you pinching his skin together to help the adhesive do its job.
When you’re done, applying a gauze pad over the adhesive stitches to keep them safe, his eyes follow you as you put everything away, throwing away your gloves and washing your hands. You don’t spare him a glance as you walk out of the bathroom, turning the light off and leaving him in the dark. He stays seated for a moment, trying to figure out how to fix this until he hears a door close.
He heads to your shared bedroom, only to find the door closed and locked, two pillows and a blanket sitting in a pile on the floor. He leans his pained forehead against the door in defeat, sighing.
“Y/n. Let me in, please?”
Silence.
“I’m sorry, baby. I know I need to end this. And I will. There’s just one more and if I win, we’ll have enough for us, for the wedding, and for our future.”
He thinks he hears a faint sob on the other side of the door and has half a mind to kick the door down to be with you. But he can’t. You have every right to be mad, every right to be hurt and to cry and to lock him out.
He grabs the pillows and blanket and heads for the couch.
The next morning, Wonwoo wakes to the sound of your medical kit being placed on the coffee table. You silently wait for him to sit up, quickly brushing his hand away when he goes to rub his eyes. You turn around, grabbing the required materials to clean up his wounds again.
His hand subconsciously grabs your thigh when you wipe an alcohol wipe across the laceration in his eyebrow. He feels the way your hands still, your body turning into a statue at the contact.
You push through, finishing it up and turning back to your bag, pulling out the things needed for a week of taking care of his wounds.
“You only need to keep the gauze over the stitches for a day or two. It’s the glue kind of stitches so there won’t be anything to remove, just keep it closed or you’ll have to go to urgent care to have them fix it. The rest are all superficial. Just don’t touch them and they should be fine.”
You speak at such a rapid pace, but still manage to sound professional like you do with your patients. But it’s nothing in comparison to how fast Wonwoo’s mind is racing.
“Y/n…?”
“I’ll leave some extra gauze, polysporin, as well as just regular bacitracin. The ice packs are all in the freezer if you feel any soreness. Drink water and electrolytes and you’ll be fine. Your backup pair of glasses are on the kitchen counter.” Your voice fails you and you try to hide the sniffle it causes.
“Fuck, I’m going to be late.” You murmur, grabbing your medical bag and heading to the front door where you have two suitcases. How did he not hear them being brought down?
“Y/n, where are you going?” He slowly moves off the couch as you stuff the bag into the suitcase.
“Ari’s for now. She can only let me stay a few days, though. I’ll figure the next place out when I get there.”
“Why?” His voice cracks and you finally turn to look at him.
“Because I give up.” You shrug, voice breaking at the admission. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live this life with you if this is how you’re going to be, Wonwoo.”
All at once, he feels his world crashing around him.
“Baby, please. Don’t…don’t go. Just sit down and we can discuss this.”
“There’s nothing to discuss, Woo. You’re going to stay in that silly biker gang. You’re going to keep going to that bar. You’re going to keep going to that back room. You’re going to keep fighting and coming home battered and bruised with broken promises of stopping and living a better life.”
“I…I’m serious this time, though. It’s just one more fight next month and we’ll be set.”
“We’re already ‘set’! We’re more than set, Wonwoo! I don’t need designer clothing, a nice house, fancy car, or jewelry. I don’t need any of it! You are literally the only thing I need and you can’t give me that while fighting.”
You take a few steps toward him, your fingers playing with the engagement ring that he had to win three fights to be able to afford.
“I love you so much, I’m sorry.” Your voice is broken, you’re crying and he can’t do anything about it as you take his hand in yours, setting the engagement ring in his palm and letting go. You say nothing more as you drag your suitcases out the front door, refusing to look back at him.
Time stops as he sits there, the faint sounds of you getting in a car and driving away in the background as he tries to process.
You left.
You left him.
You gave him the ring back.
The pain from the wounds on his face doesn’t even come close in comparison to the way his heart shatters when he looks at the ring in his hand.
He pockets the ring in his wallet, downing his drink in one go and slamming it down on the counter, almost crushing it.
It’s been a month since you walked out. A month since he last spoke to you. A month since he heard your beautiful voice. You were gone. No longer his and he no longer was yours.
However, you never came by to get your stuff, never sent someone else to do it either. A month and you haven’t set foot in the house you shared with him. Half of that stuff is rightfully yours, so there had to be a reason for you to not come back for it, right?
There has to be.
“Wonwoo? You ready?”
He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands before he turns to his best friend, Changkyun.
“Yeah. I just need to put my contacts in. How much time do I have?”
“Eh. You know there’s no real start time. But we’ll say like forty-five minutes? Take your time. Get focused. Seungcheol doesn’t give up easily. He’ll kill you if it’s an option.” Changkyun laughs, but Wonwoo knows his friend is serious. He’s seen the way Seungcheol fights. It’s brutal and one guy he fought was put into a coma and has been for the past eight months.
“‘Kay. I’ll be ready soon.” Wonwoo slowly gets up, walking past his best friend and towards the bathroom. He takes half a second to look around the bar. It’s become a habit the past month he’s been hiding here. Hoping and praying you’ll walk through those grimey doors. But you never did. You never will.
Except he swears he sees you sitting in the back corner with Changkyun’s girlfriend. But before he can confirm if it’s you or not, one of the newer members with the nickname Dino, is drunkenly yelling his name and wishing him good luck. By the time Seungkwan ushers him away, you’re no longer in the back corner. You’re nowhere. Just another illusion there to haunt him.
After spending a good amount of time in the dimly lit bathroom, the blue light flickering in and out. He removes his glasses and puts in his contacts that he hates wearing, he sets his jacket down on the counter, glasses sitting to the side and tucking all his important shit in the pockets, including the wallet with your ring.
Your ring.
“Fuck, why am I still doing this?” He silently questions himself, fist slamming down on the counter in anger. He looks up at his reflection in the mirror and he’s sick of himself immediately. What he’d give to punch himself in the face for driving you to leave him.
The thought to punch the mirror quickly appears and disappears in his mind when there’s a quiet knock on the door.
“I’ll be out in a minute, Changkyun. Just— I need a moment.” He states, trying to mentally prepare himself for this last fight. The knocks return, but louder.
“I said I’ll be out soon!” He shouts, trying to resist the urge to open the door and punch his best friend just for annoying him. He heavily considers it when suddenly the door opens and he feels like he has been punched in the face.
It’s you.
You’re right there.
In that fucking dress he bought you after one of his first wins.
You’re really there.
“Y/n? What…? What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you.” You state calmly, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.
Did you cut your hair? Color it? It looks nice. He wants to tell you how gorgeous it is. How gorgeous you are.
God, he wants to crush you in a hug, keep your lips against his until either of you can’t breathe, have his hands everywhere on your skin and cause goosebumps. He wants to be close to you, but the growing fear that you’ll run away from him again is too much.
“You love me, right?” You ask quietly, staring at the disgusting ground. You already sound like you’re about to cry and it’s making coming closer to you even more difficult for Wonwoo.
“More than anything.” He breathes out quickly.
“More than fighting?” Your brows knit together as you slowly start to look up. “More than the money and the ‘better life’ you seem to think I need? More than your gang or your bike?” Your eyes find his gaze at the mention of his bike and he wants to scream at the world for the tears building up behind your beautiful eyes.
“Of course, more than any of that, baby. I’d give it all up for you.” He takes a small step forward and you take one back, closer to the door.
“Yet here you are, a month after I walk out, ready to fight someone Changkyun says is actually dangerous and requesting my medical assistance.”
“You’ve been talking to Changkyun?” He’s been talking to you? And Changkyun didn’t tell him he was in contact with you? All while, spending hours at the bar with him drinking himself to sleep, wondering where you were and if you were okay.
Did he tell you about him? About how much he missed you? How it felt like his soul had died without you?
“Of course I’ve been talking to him! I needed to make sure you were okay.”
His mouth opens, but he can’t speak because you’re speaking again.
“We’re supposed to get married, Wonwoo. And live a life together. Have a family some day, get a cat or something, go out and come home early because we’d rather be together than out there socializing.” Your voice falters with a small laugh, the tears silently falling.
“But I can’t marry someone who’s risking their life every night, not just with the fights, but driving a motorcycle without glasses or contacts. I can’t marry someone who causes me to be in a constant state of anxiety every time you leave the house.”
“I’ll get rid of the bike. I’ll leave the gang. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” He steps towards you again, and you take another step back, back meeting the door.
“I don’t care about the bike, Woo!” You finally yell, throwing your hands up in frustration. “I don’t care about the gang. I don’t even care about the bar! I care about you and your safety and how little you care about it.” You pause to take a breath, hands shaking as you try to reform your thoughts.
Wonwoo’s heart cracks at the sight. He takes two steps back, giving you the space he knows you need. He wants to say something, anything, to make the tears stop falling, but you’re right and he couldn’t defend himself if he tried.
“Do you know how many people I’ve seen come into my emergency room half beaten to death? Do you know how many I’ve seen die from those injuries? Or put into induced comas because the brain injuries are so severe? I don’t want to be there one day and have them roll you in on a cart half alive. My heart would break if I did. I mean, fuck, I wanted to fall apart when you got in that hit and run and brought in.”
He looks down to the floor, memories of how upset you were when you came into the emergency room and found him lying in a bed. With a broken leg and scratches everywhere from being dragged down the road by his bike.
He kept reassuring you it was never going to happen again, as if he could predict the future, but you were still upset and pushed him to sell the bike that was trashed and get a car.
He ended up buying a better bike and you barely reacted when he brought it home. He promised to be safer and fucked you senseless after.
“I… what do you want me to do?” He hesitantly asks, “Do you want me to back out of the fight?” You scoff, crossing your arms.
“We both know you can’t do that. Joon would have your head on a spike if you lost him all that money.” You close your eyes, stepping forward and away from the door. “I want you to do two things for me. Win and never fight again. Keep the bike, hang out in the dirty bar with your friends, drink all you want. But never go in that back room again.”
Your eyes lock onto his and he feels smaller in comparison to you. Your hands reach out for his as you step closer and his gaze falls to the contact.
“I promi—”
“No.” Your hands tighten around his, “your promises mean nothing now. You’ve promised me hundreds of times. Don’t use your words, prove it with your actions.”
He doesn’t hesitate when he pushes forward, pressing you back against the wall as his lips crush into yours. His tongue easily slides past your lips when your mouth parts in shock.
Your arms snake their way around his shoulders and his hands drop to your thighs, lifting you up to wrap them around his waist, pressing you further into the door.
“I’ll do it. I’ll win for you, and I’ll never step foot back there again.” His lips leave yours, quickly finding their way down the space between your neck and shoulder. “I’ll do anything if it means never having to go a month without you again. I miss you so fucking much, y/n.”
You respond with a whimper, hands tangled in his hair as he feels your hips try to roll forward. Wonwoo pins your hips down, stopping them from moving and rolls his hips instead, eliciting another whine from you.
“Woo, baby, please.”
His lips make their way up to just under your ear when he whispers, “what is it, baby? Please what?”
“I need you.”
“Yeah?”
“Missed you. So much. Want you.”
He pulls away from your skin to look at you.
“You have me. Always and forever. Just you and me.” He places a small kiss on your forehead, a small grin forming, “and maybe a small kitten. We can name it Snuggles.”
“I like that.” You sniffle, the tears pooling in your eyes again. “But I need more right now, Woo. Please.”
“I got you, baby.” He kisses your lips once more, standing you back up momentarily to pull his jeans down to his ankles, cock springing free from his underwear. You reach down and give his cock one stroke before his fingers wrap around your wrist, placing it by your head, grinning at your pout.
“We don’t have time.” He chuckles when you’re about to complain, kissing your pout away as he wraps one of your legs around his waist. Your free hand reaches down to pull your underwear to the side while his free hand lines himself up before slowly pressing past your folds.
“So fucking tight.” Wonwoo rasps, watching his cock slowly disappear as he sinks you down on him, grabbing your other leg to wrap around his waist as well. Your ankles lock together and he grunts at the feeling of your heels poking his skin.
Wonwoo shudders when he’s fully inside, cock twitching every time you involuntarily clench around him after almost every breath you take.
His hand sneaks down between you two, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing small and slow circles, watching your face contort into that of pure pleasure.
“My girl. My beautiful baby.” The praise and pet names quietly fly past his lips as he leans forward, lips latching onto your neck, “gonna marry you and make you so damn happy. Gonna love you every fucking day and night.” You don’t respond with anything but whimpers and whines, your hands tangling back into his hair and pulling him up to kiss him.
Everything about this is sloppy and heated and neither of you can last more than a few moments as you’re both coming undone around the same time, his hips stuttering you further into the door as he fills you up.
He keeps you against the door for a minute, but before you can ask to be put down, he’s bringing you to the counter, laying his jacket out enough for you to sit on so you can avoid the grossness of the dirty bathroom. He grabs some paper towels and cleans himself up, bringing his underwear and jeans back.
He catches you just in time when you’re readjusting your underwear, moving to stand up to fix your dress. He stops you, placing his hands on both of your knees, keeping them spread apart.
“Hold on.” He whispers, getting on his knees and scooting you closer to the edge, “let me clean you up.”
“Woo…” you try to speak but he picks that as the perfect moment and licks up between your folds, collecting what he can of both his and your orgasms. His lips latch onto your clit, switching between sucking harshly and softly blowing on it. He can feel how close you are, his actions a little more chaotic until there’s a hard banging on the bathroom door.
“Wonwoo! I know I said there’s no time on this, but there’s a fucking time on it. Let’s go.”
“Two minutes, Changkyun!” Wonwoo snaps back, anger quickly taking over his voice.
“You have one minute before I come in there. Whatever you’re doing with y/n, make it fast.”
You look down at Wonwoo in horror, but that just eggs him on, “you heard the man, baby. I’ve got one minute.”
Your eyes widen at the evil smile he gives you before diving back in. Only this time, he doesn’t hold back; licking, sucking, fucking you with his tongue until your hips are bucking upwards and you’re trying desperately not to scream his name out as you come.
You have to push his face away from your center, much to his dismay, before he causes a third orgasm. He fixes your underwear, helping you stand up as his lips find yours again, hands adjusting your dress. He reaches behind you, grabbing his jacket and opening it for you to slip your arms into.
He pulls away from you, eyes locking on yours as his hand dips into a pocket, grabbing his wallet and pulling the ring out, dropping the wallet back in the pocket.
The ring fidgets in his fingers as he looks down at it before glancing back at you.
“…I give up the fighting, the money, the lack of caring about my safety. I’ll be better, I’ll do better. As long as it means this ring stays on your finger forever.”
The tears form in your eyes again as you slowly reach for the ring, delicately taking it from his fingers. You slowly put it back where it belongs on your ring finger, Wonwoo letting out a dramatically heavy breath that he didn’t think he was holding.
“Deal.” You whisper quietly, pulling him back down for a kiss that’s perfectly interrupted by the door opening.
“I gave you three minutes. Let’s go. Sorry, y/n.” Changkyun shares a look with you that Wonwoo can’t quite read, choosing to ignore it as he reaches for his glasses on the counter, placing them in your hand.
“I’ll win.” He whispers, kissing your forehead and walking out after his best friend, your ring wearing hand in back in his.
The fight is, as expected, brutal and bloody. Seungcheol never holds back, throwing punch after punch like it was his only goal in life to beat Wonwoo down to a pulp the moment the two of you stepped into the back room. Seungcheol gave you both one glance, chuckled, and looked away before the fight began.
Wonwoo was able to dodge a good amount of the punches, but the ones that did land sent him straight to the ground, trying his best to stay conscious.
He can feel the blood dripping down his face from a cut between his eyebrows. His nose feels broken. He's pretty sure his leg is bruised from Seungcheol kicking him down and kicking harder when he’s not responding.
“Get up.” Seungcheol grumbles, circling Wonwoo, “unless you want your girl to watch you get pummeled.” He shrugs, a smug grin across his face as Wonwoo lifts himself onto his hand and knees.
“I don’t mind. Maybe she can tend to my wounds after.” He smirks, watching Wonwoo try to steady himself as he stands up. “She can kiss them better. That what she do with you?”
Wonwoo’s eyes dart to you, in the corner or the room, holding Changkyun’s girlfriend’s hand tight. Your eyes are wide and you’re trying not to react to anything happening, trying to stay neutral in case either of you needs immediate attention. You can’t hear the salacious slander Seungcheol is taunting Wonwoo with, and for that, he’s thankful.
Seungcheol speaks again, but Wonwoo doesn’t bother listening, instead bringing his fist back briefly before punching Seungcheol in the jaw, sending him backwards.
He wastes no time taking advantage of Seungcheol being even slightly disoriented, knocking him to the ground and punching one after the other. It takes you shouting his name to pull him out of his mind and stop punching the man beneath him. He sits back on his feet, mindlessly watching as Changkyun checks on Seungcheol before Wonwoo is declared the winner.
He’s shoved aside by his best friend as you’re brought to the losing participant, checking his wounds and determining what needs to be done, instructing Changkyun how to do it before turning around and doing the same with Wonwoo.
“Anything feel broken?” You whisper, cradling his face in your hands, analyzing the injuries. He tries not to wince as you gently move his head side to side. The nitrile gloves feeling oddly cool against his sweaty skin. “Tilt your head up for me, baby.” He obeys your murmur, teeth gritting as he does so. His eyes find your sad ones and he finally understands it.
“I won.” He whispers, a battered hand reaching to wrap around the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his. “Never again.”
You nod, flashing a soft smile as you pull away from him, letting go of his head, checking his hands quickly before grabbing a towel and covering his knuckles. “We should go home. I can treat you better there.”
You stand him up slowly, your name being called by Changkyun as he has someone else sitting Seungcheol up, wiping up any blood. You turn just in time to catch the keys being thrown at you.
“Here. I’ll take Wonwoo’s bike. Take the car.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Don’t let him get on that bike like that.”
Wonwoo doesn’t miss the smile that appears on your face as you nod. You’re not the only one that cares about his safety.
After you say your thanks, you help Wonwoo into the passenger seat of the car and get in the driver’s seat, taking him home.
“I mean it.” His raspy voice pierces the silence in the car after a moment, “No more fighting. No more riding without my glasses. I’ll take better care…I’ll be better…for both of us.” He unwraps his hand from the towel, wincing slightly, and moves his hand over to your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze.
“Good. Because I’ll throw an actual fit if I walk down the aisle to you in a tux with fresh cuts and bruises all over your face.”
“I think you’d kick my ass.” He jokes, but you just smirk.
“Baby, I’m medically trained and have been taking self-defense classes for years. I know how to stop the blood flow to your brain and stop you from breathing with one hit. Don’t fuck with me.”
“I love the image of you in a wedding dress just beating people up.”
“Don’t compare me to the bride in Kill Bill, Woo. Please.” You groan and he laughs.
“It’s hot. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re lucky I love you.”
There’s a long pause before Wonwoo finally speaks again.
“That I am…”
#kvanity#thekpopuniverse#kflixnet#wkcnet#kelly writes#kelly posts#fic: lose my mind#seventeen#Jeon Wonwoo#Wonwoo#jeon wonu#Wonu#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo x y/n#wonwoo x you#wonwoo angst#wonwoo smut#svt smut#svt angst#seventeen angst#seventeen smut#wonwoo fic#svt fic#wonwu fic
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Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 1
Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc
Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?
Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret
Word count: 4.5k+
A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.
This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.
Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki
Next Chapter 3
It's not about how fast you go.
It's about how long you go fast.
Fast like-
A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start.
Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.
Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.
"Raiko, are you ready?"
Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again.
"Give me a minute, will you?"
Okay, where was I?
It's not about how fast you go-
A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.
Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...
How about I tell you a little bit about me.
Name's Raiko Suruki.
Yes, that Suruki. Here we go again.
I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add, proud podium sitter for thousands of times, also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world. The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.
After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man and having his first and only child - that's me in case you didn't know.
Anyway, without any second thoughts he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.
He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it, be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.
It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of the rally series in Japan.
The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.
It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards.
And everything started going wrong.
All of a sudden the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by dnf's on every scoreboard. And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the disaster and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point.
The mess piled up more and more and it showed.
Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, well, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't enough.
The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened.
It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.
The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.
Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.
Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.
I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could to save it.
Until now.
So, let's try that again, shall we?
Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.
Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.
Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.
Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.
But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father.
Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.
"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.
"Your mantra sucks."
He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?
"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."
Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.
"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.
"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.
If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.
As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.
Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.
He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.
Racing was a man's world.
With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.
Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.
Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.
A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.
They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.
But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.
You.
The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence.
The only people that did were your team in the garage, from the mechanics to your PR agent.
Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.
Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.
This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway.
It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.
The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.
"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"
You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.
Time to get this show going.
Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.
You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.
No pressure, right?
"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"
"Yes."
"Good. All set?"
"I think so."
"Raiko, look at me."
"You're not my style."
"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him.
"You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."
He was right.
Let's prove everyone wrong.
The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.
"3."
It's not about how fast you go.
"2."
It's about how long you go fast.
"1."
Fast like lightning.
"GO!"
A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.
Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally depending on which stages got picked for the day. More forest terrain gave way to hard roads, receeding in wheel control, gaining insane suspension pressure. This one was more of an open valley terrain, which was a bit safer, but the later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.
"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.
"1 left 100."
Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion.
You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.
Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.
"3 right don't cut."
Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.
You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.
"6 right very long."
Hard left into a tight corner.
"Cut 8 left."
Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.
This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.
Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.
Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.
Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.
1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma - 1.24.55
2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59
3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.23.40
"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.
"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.
"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.
"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"
"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."
"But-"
Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.
"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.
You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.
"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."
"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.
He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.
"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."
With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station until he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.
Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.
"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he added a daring wink, flashing his cocky smile at you.
Ew.
Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.
"I don't want your autograph."
Taken aback at your response, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.
"Suruki Racing...," he started doubtful, "the shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead," he finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.
Who the fuck was this guy?
The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.
"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself.
"Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo.
If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red tones before anything else.
He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.
Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.
Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.
"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"
Eh, come again?
Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.
"B-Beetle dupe?!"
"I thought you were a guy."
Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.
You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.
"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.
He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.
You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.
So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples surrounding him. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.
Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.
Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.
Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.
"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear making shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."
Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.
Oh, just you wait -
A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.
Uh-oh. This wasn't good.
They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.
Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.
"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"
"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"
"Is your car even going to last a season?"
"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"
I guess that was it for mystery, dad.
Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.
If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.
Driving was dirty.
Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver.
The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.
Respect was fought for, not earned.
It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.
You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.
You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.
Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.
However, this first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?
As you trudged on the warm asphalt, warmed by the mid-spring warmth of March, there was one thing you knew for sure.
This is gonna be a long season.
Next
Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!
#Runaway#Naozumi Hiyama#Naozumi Hiyama x reader#Naozumi Hiyama x you#Overdrive x reader#Overdrive x you#racing au#Overdrive Mackenyu
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Hello. Your Come (Back) to Me fic was one my most memorable fics. Will you make a fic rec list of some of your most memorable fics and why you enjoyed them.
Thank you so much for this. I'm very proud of Come (Back) to Me. I've loved "Somewhere in Time" for as long as I love VC, 30 years now. That epic love story merged with Loustat just wrote itself and to know that people derive joy from it makes me feel so so happy!
Memorable fics rec! The most important thing I find for why I love a fic is when I can feel that it is written with respect and love for the characters.
So I'm listing the fics this way:
1. Loustat Human AU that stay firmly in character. When you read, and you can hear their true voices and believe their actions to be those of Loustat's.
@angstosaur Star-Crossed Lovers my first ever human Loustat fic. Lovely.
@riley-beautrelle Perfect Loustat met up in a holiday spot and true to character, fall head-over-heels for each other big time.
dolphinspirit I Hate You But I Love You More Loustat working on marriage, so much love, growth and healing.
2. Loustat fics that are absolutely hysterical (sometimes OOC) but so well-written with so much love and knowledge of VC (I absolutely adore funny Loustat)
@siahatha Renaissance Lestat in therapy so many memorable clever scenes dealing with anger and eating-disorder
cherborowitz In Spite of All My Faults Loustat x Emma+Clueless
@graygiantess and chxmpxgneproblems What, Like It's Hard? Loustat x Legally Blonde
murfrumbles AMC IWTV Omegaverse I firmly believe that this writer should take over writing for Mayfair Witches tv show bc their knowledge of VC and MW is incredible and omg I couldn't stop laughing and I agree with every word!
3. Loustat vampires AU that are canon-compliant and written to fill in the gaps or go beyond.
@riley-beautrelle For a Young Violinist Nickistat, gorgeous, atmospheric, written with so much love. Comfort despite the inevitable pain
@nalyra-dreaming Monstrous are what Monsters Be
Lestat talks to Louis about Magnus, haunting, harrowing, healing
@prouvaireafterdark Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame Lestat being Dr Fareed's guinea pig for sexperiment. Hurt-comfort, very smutty very loving and complete with beautiful artworks
@lesfleursrouges Bitter is the Sorrow Louis is haunted by Lestat, painful and exquisite
@virginiaisforvampires All of You Lestat has nightmares about Akasha and Louis comforts him, short but satisfying.
@thefairylights Whatever Our Souls are Made Out of~ Loustat reunited in modern days, working out their problems, fluffy and loving
literary_genius Making it Work Loustat trying to make their relationship work.
I'm missing so many. But everyone, please do reblog and mention your most memorable fics. Let's give some love for older, memorable fics.
#interview with the vampire#amc iwtv#lestat#lestat de lioncourt#loustat#ldpdl#iwtv#iwtc fic#iwtv fic recs
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