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cupid-styles · 2 days

Text

brat (sex columnist!harry x best friend!y/n)

in which y/n is best friends with harry, a sex columnist, who needs a little help answering a reader's question.

word count: 3k

content warnings: SMUT!!!! (mean dom/bratty sub dynamic, dirty talk, pussy spanking, paddling, sir kink, degradation, slight edging, fingering)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m really not.”

“No, but you are.”

“It would be for work and work only—”

“I don’t care.”

Harry sighs as he lifts a hand to run it through his curly hair. The noisy puff of air is filled with unsaid annoyance and Y/N tries her best not to roll her eyes at her best friend’s stubbornness, instead focusing on toying with the bracelet around her wrist. Instead of replying, he quickly runs his fingertips over the trackpad on his laptop so it glows back to life.

“Can you at least hear me out?” he asks, his tone teetering on a polite plea, “You know writing about sex is my job. How am I supposed to help this person out when I can’t even offer a fair answer?”

Y/N crosses her arms and shrugs and Harry wishes he could reach across the couch and push them to her sides.

“What makes you think I have any experience being a sub, anyway?” she fires back, keeping her eyes glued on the TV in front of them.

They're currently binging the newest season of The Bachelor, but Harry was more so using the dialogue and Y/N’s periodic gasps as background noise. For the past year or so, he’s held down a job at an online publication as a sex columnist. He loves it — people write in anonymously, asking him questions about everything from premature ejaculation to open relationships. Under the pen name H.E. Bell, he gets paid to write lengthy, thoughtful responses, helping his readers with approaching whatever sexual issue they’re facing. And this week, his editor really wants him to address a particular question about a dominant and submissive relationship.

The thing is, though, is the letter comes from a sub. And Harry’s a dom.

A mean one, at that.

So while Y/N’s diving into a pint of her favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream (Phish Food, obviously), and Harry’s trying his best — and miserably failing — to place himself in the shoes of his submissive reader, he knows what he has to do.

“I hate to tell you, but you scream submissive,” Harry replies, pushing his laptop off of the couch and onto the coffee table. “Don’t even try to deny it. Just… just hear me out. Please. My deadline’s tomorrow afternoon.”

Y/N lets out an irritated huff as she grabs the TV remote and presses pause. Silently, she sits back against the couch, facing her best friend, and shoots him a displeased expression; a wordless allowance to speak.

“I’m a dom and I’ve literally always been that way. You’re a sub, through-and-through. This person is asking about situations pertaining to experience as a submissive, and I can’t really provide them with the advice that they’re looking for since I’ve never been in that headspace.”

Y/N shrugs carelessly. She’s unbothered by his frank analysis of her subordinate behavior — it’s not exactly surprising that Harry, the sex columnist, is able to identify a sub, dom, or switch from 10 miles away. But that doesn’t mean she has to get dragged into his research, or whatever the hell he was trying to play it off as.

“Why don’t you just skip the question, then?” Y/N asks. “If you don’t have the right resources to offer an answer—”

“My editor thinks it’ll bring in a lot of page views,” he says, his throat bobbing with a swallow. His eyebrows draw together some, creating a small worried wrinkle between them. “Listen, I’ll fuck off if you’re totally uncomfortable with helping me, but you’re my best friend and I don’t know who else I could ask with this short of a timeframe.”

She sighs and brings her knees up to her chest.

“Fine. Read me the question.”

A grin breaks out on Harry’s face as he grabs his laptop. He taps on the trackpad a few times as he brings the email up on the screen, eyes scanning over his bright inbox.

“Okay, here’s what they said,” he clears his throat and Y/N really does roll her eyes this time, “Dear H.E.— I’ve been in a sexual relationship with my dominant for three months. Up until now, we’ve clicked really well. The chemistry is great and we always mesh really well both during scenes and aftercare. But lately, I’m worried I’ve been a little too bratty. For context, I’m a bratty sub with an attitude, but my dom knew that going into this. I fear that they’ll grow tired of my nonsense and insistent disobedience, but when I’m in my subspace or engaging in a scene with them, it’s hard for me to pull away from it. What should I do? Do you have any advice for what I can do as a sub to best help my dom?”

Y/N’s plucking at her bottom lip as Harry glances up from his computer. Blinking, she thinks for a moment before crafting a response.

“Well, it sounds like the sub needs to communicate their feelings to their dom. There seems to be a lot of insecurity.” she says. He hums, nodding his head as he types a few words on his keyboard.

“Yeah, that’s true,” he murmurs, “They said it’s hard for them not to be in that bratty headspace, though.”

She shrugs, “I mean, if you’re a bratty sub, you’re a bratty sub. That’s just who you are.”

“Do you think there are any punishments that would work, then?”

“You’re the dom, shouldn’t you be able to answer that question?”

“I guess,” he replies, running his palm over the short bit of facial hair that’s grown on his chin in the past few days. “Spanking, edging, overstimulation, types of shibari, I guess…”

Y/N’s thighs squeeze involuntarily.

“...I just don’t know what works best.” he finishes his sentence, halting the tapping of his fingertips over the keyboard. “What do you think?”

She forces a swallow to coat her dry throat. “It depends.” she pushes out.

“Well, what works for you?”

She thinks for a moment. It’s been a minute since she’s been in a proper dominant/submissive dynamic — the last few times she’s had sex have all been one night stands and quick flings, all of which don’t allow enough time to learn about hard limits, punishments, and safe words. Her brain has to float back to a year ago, when she was sleeping with Reese, a soft dom who tried his best to tame her bratty nature but came back empty every time. He was good — the sex was good, but she wanted — no, needed — more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really had a dominant… achieve that, I guess,” she mumbles thoughtfully. “I mean, I know what I like, as far as punishments go. But it’s not really about what the submissive likes, is it?”

“No,” Harry agrees. He hums as he opens up a second tab and she watches as he types the words “punishments for submissives” into the search engine. She sniffles and attempts to disregard the way her core instantly clenches.

He’s silent as he reads through a few lists, occasionally jotting down some notes into his Google doc. Y/N swallows noisily when he glances back up at her, this time prepared with an apparent list of proposed consequences.

“Okay, can you just tell me which ones you think most submissives would be fine with?”

She nods.

“Withgoing underwear in public?”

“Mhm.”

“Pussy spanking?”

“Yeah.”

“Nipple wax play?”

“Depends on the sub’s pain tolerance, but um… yeah.”

“Paddling?”

“I actually haven’t done that one before.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise.

“No?”

She shakes her head. “None of my doms have ever had one.”

“Doesn’t sound like they were proper doms, then.”

“They’ve all been on the softer side,” Y/N explains shyly. “But… yeah. I guess it’s always something I’ve wanted to try.”

“Is it?”

She can tell by the way his eyes have darkened, that there’s something wicked stirring in that brain of his. She knows she can put a stop to this now if she wants — he’s her best friend and he wouldn’t care if she ended the conversation here and now.

But she doesn’t.

Not for a second.

So instead she nods. And she’s completely unsurprised by the next sentence that falls from his lips.

“Do you want to try it now?”

By now, Y/N’s brain is all fuzzy and melty, so she doesn’t even think before she’s nodding her head eagerly. Harry chuckles and closes his laptop, shuffling onto his knees to lean forward and pluck at her bottom lip. A smirk curves at his mouth as she leans into his touch.

“Getting quite desperate on me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, cradling her cheek into his palm. “Get naked for me then and I’ll go get the paddle. No touching while I’m gone.”

Her stomach flips at the domineering tone in his voice. All too quickly, they’ve fallen into their most intimate roles, and Harry’s carrying himself to his bedroom as Y/N continues sitting there, all gooey-eyed and foggy. And maybe he should have expected it when he returns back to the living room a few moments later to see her sprawled out across the length of the couch, her bralette and underwear still on with her fingers tucked beneath the waistband of the fabric.

“Kitten,” Harry all but growls, making Y/N shiver at the pet name, “Are you already disobeying me?”

She hums as she watches him through half-lidded eyes, soft fingertips petting at her pearled clit. His eyes glimpse down at the tented material and he instantly sets the dark red paddle down on the carpeted floor, kneeling between her legs.

“What’s your color?” he breathes, locking a hand around her ankle. Her pussy quivers just from the simple grasp.

“Green,” she answers, “I’ll tell you if anything changes. Safe word is licorice.”

Harry nods, allowing his large hands to float up her legs. They reach the gusset of her sodden underwear and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, snapping the fabric against her swollen pussy.

“Take your hand out of your panties now and I won’t smack your pussy until she’s raw.”

Y/N doesn’t move. In fact, he thinks her circling fingers only quicken.

“I’ll give you one last warning,” he grits out, squeezing the flesh of her thighs, “I’m not a nice dominant. You won’t be able to walk if you keep going against me.”

But of course, her hand stays glued to the bundle of nerves. Instead, she breathes out a sultry response: “Think I could cum like this, having you watch me.”

In a moment, her cotton underwear is being ripped from her body and thrown aside. He’s swift in his movements as he collects her wrists in his palm, squeezing them harshly and throwing them up, high above her body. She gasps, noisy and wet.

“I don’t fuck around with brats like you for a reason.”

The first spank he issues to her puffy pussy is quick and fleeting, hardly offering a lick of pain. He’s eager to find where her pain threshold lies; if she’s all talk or if she can take the full force of his large palm. By the time he lands the sixth one, her skin now reddening beneath his smacks, he thinks he’s found it and he admits, he’s relatively impressed.

“Aw, did that one hurt?” Harry mocks, watching as her face twists in an expression of discomfort. “That’s because punishments are meant to be mean. You’re not supposed to enjoy them, little brat. You’ve had it too easy, hm?”

“H-haven’t,” she stutters out, wincing as he delivers a seventh, “I’m good, sir, I swear—”

“Oh, bull-fuckin’-shit,” he retorts. “You’re a silly little brat is what you are.”

“‘m not—”

Smack—

“You are.”

She whines until he reaches the tenth one. She’s a wiggly mess of sniffles and whimpers and he shushes her, brushing a thumb over her clit. She gasps lowly and he laughs.

“On your belly.”

This time, Y/N doesn’t defy him and Harry is admittedly surprised. She buries her face in the throw pillow and he rolls his eyes at the theatrics. Before picking the paddle up off the floor, his blunt fingertips scratch at her scalp, gentle and kind as they trail down to the nape of her neck.

“What’s your color, kitten?” he asks softly, rubbing a docile palm over her bare ass.

“Green, sir.”

“Do you still want to try the paddle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, “We’ll start with five and then see where you’re at. You know what to say if you want me to stop, right?”

“Red or licorice, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Since it’s her first time, he decides to ease her into it. He uses only a smidgen of his strength to smack the paddle against the thick of her cheek, watching as the wood ricochets. Her skin jiggles in response and he swallows, noting the way her nails already dig into the couch.

The second and third are just as light but he adds a bit more pressure to the fourth and fifth. When he’s finished, he rubs over the flush skin, slow and intentional.

“How was that?” he asks.

“Good,” she replies, her voice slightly muffled from the pillow, “I can take more.”

A hand quickly finds its way to the back of her neck and her eyes instantly widen. He shifts her head, smushing her cheek into the soft fabric so her voice is no longer dulled.

“Need to hear you loud and clear,” Harry says. “And now you’ll count for me.”

When the oak paddle makes contact with her ass for the sixth time, she grits her teeth but still calls out the number. She follows suit for the next five and, while it’s painful and harsh in the most uncomfortable of ways, she’d be lying if she said her skin didn’t feel like it was on fire. She’s burning for him, feeling her arousal leak down between the apex of her thighs with every last spank.

“Good job, kitten,” Harry announces, dropping the paddle at the end of the set. “You did good, hm? Did the bratty girl learn her lesson?”

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in a pout when his soft palms begin to soothe her aching bum. He instantly takes notice, wrinkling his eyebrows in confusion.

“Can’t give you anymore tonight, kitten. It was only your first time.”

Instead of replying, she simply shakes her head.

“Use your words. I’m not a mindreader, brat.”

Swallowing, she lifts her head up slightly, only enough to give her a peek of Harry’s concerned expression.

“W-wanna cum,” she mumbles, blinking at him, “Will you make me cum, sir?”

And instead of immediately getting what she wants, Harry does the unthinkable.

He rolls his eyes.

“You act like a slutty brat all night, begging to get paddled, and now you want me to make you cum?”

She nods, ashamed and embarrassed.

“What the fuck makes you think you deserve that?”

“I-I took my spankings and paddlings without complaining. And I didn’t disobey you a-after that.”

“But you did defy me to begin with, didn’t you?” he pushes, weaving his hand into the hair at the back of her head. His fist tightens and he lifts her head so her neck cranes back. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And now you want to cum.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But not only do you want to cum— you want me to make you cum.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fine then,” he decides, sitting down and leaning back against the couch cushions. “Come here. Straddle me.”

She forces herself onto her knees and ignores the way her ass and pussy both sting from her punishments. Right now, all she can focus on is her buzzing clit and its need for attention.

She does as she’s told and splits her thighs to fit his own legs between them. Almost instantly, he cups a hand beneath her mouth and glares at her expectantly.

“Spit, brat. Are you dumb?”

She shakes her head, allowing saliva to pool behind her lips before spitting it into his palm. With his eyes staring into hers, he lowers his spit-slick hand down to her mound and pushes a finger inside of her. Immediately, she clenches around it, her eyes threatening to flutter shut.

“Keep them open,” he instructs, “Jesus, your cunt is already milking me.”

She swallows and forces herself to maintain eye contact with the man sitting before her. He’s merciless in his ministrations, especially when he nestles a second, then a third finger and curls them up to her most sensitive spot. Her hands form tight fists as she grinds against his hand, moaning loudly when his thumb reaches her clit.

“What a desperate little pussy,” he murmurs, speeding up the tight circles over the swollen bundle of nerves, “You like getting stretched out, don’t you? Say it.”

“I-I love when you stretch me out, sir.”

“Of course you do,” he smirks viciously, “Is your cunt gonna cum like this?”

“Y-yes, sir—”

“Ask for permission first, kitty.”

“Please sir, can I cum? P-please?”

She’s whimpery and mewling as she bounces helplessly on his fingers, the ribbon in her lower stomach threatening to unravel at any given moment. He hums, stilling the digits inside of her.

“Hold it.”

“Sir—”

“Hold it, brat.”

Her pussy clenches around him but she does. She restrains herself until he finally allows the ribbon to come undone, a slew of whines and curses sounding from her plush lips as she does.

It feels like it goes on forever but when the pleasure finally ceases, she collapses into his chest. Harry gently pulls his fingers from her center and wraps an arm around her waist, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze.

He lets her stay like that for a bit and, maybe selfishly, he enjoys having her limp, exhausted body so close to his.

“Gotta clean you up and rub some salve on your bum,” he finally manages out, ducking down to whisper the words in her ear.

Tiredly, she nuzzles her head against his shoulder. “Five more minutes?”

He swallows.

He doesn’t think she’s in her subspace, but he knows she’s sleepy and fuzzy from the mix of pain and pleasure he just instilled on her body.

And so for that, he’ll give her five more minutes.

Six, if she’s lucky.

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calcifiedunderland · 2 days

Text

Part I (here), Part II

Trey Clover vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Jamil Viper x GN! Reader

In which the way to the Prefect’s heart is through their stomach! At least, according to three of NRC’s students…

I got the idea from @recreyomakesdoodles , from this post! Thank you so much, hope you liked it!!💕

Tagging people I think would be interested: @aruis4nosleep , @tinseltina

Warnings: food/eating

Notes: I decided to split this into multiple parts because I never have any restraint while writing and this ended up being long. Enjoy :D

———————————————————♣️🐙🐍

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Azul pushed his glasses up, balancing a stack of takeout boxes emblazoned with the Mostro Lounge logo on them. Cold blue eyes met Trey’s golden irises. Trey cleared his throat, shifting a heavy picnic basket from one hand to the other. “What brings you here, Azul? I thought you’d be busy at Mostro Lounge…”

Azul snorted, “the Prefect knows to expect me today. Clearly, you are the one intruding.” Earlier that week, he overheard you wailing to your friends about your upcoming History of Magic exam. Apparently, this unit was on Atlantica’s magical history - a topic that was, unfortunately, giving you trouble.

Fortunately, Azul was a mer who grew up learning the history by heart. Naturally he offered you assistance in exchange for having you taste-test some dishes. And how could he not help a poor, unfortunate fellow student like yourself?

Besides, if he wanted to bring along some personally cooked meals to Ramshackle, under the claim that you both would be there ‘for hours, so you may as well try some foods (that I made!) for the upcoming Lounge menu (that I run)!’, that was nobody’s business. And certainly not Clover’s business.

Trey crossed his arms, easily holding the heavy picnic basket like it weighed nothing. Azul could smell the buttery pastries and powdered sugar through the closed basket lid where he stood. “Riddle sent me to give the Prefect an invitation to the next Unbirthday Party. I thought I’d give them some treats to… sweeten the deal.” Though Trey had a disarmingly pleasant smile with the pun, his eyes bored into Azul’s.

Azul frowned. “That couldn’t have been more than a simple text. Aren’t they friends with your first years, as well?” He asked, remembering your first year friends that he’d turned into anemones.

Trey adjusted his glasses and averted his gaze, a telltale deflection sign that Azul didn’t miss. “Well, it’s more official coming from the Vice Housewarden.” “And I suppose the baked goods are complimentary?” Azul sniffed disdainfully at the basket, “Surely, the prefect needs more than pastries. A proper meal,” he emphasized.

Trey’s eyes narrowed, “a basket of baked goods is better than whatever deal you’d have for them,” he nodded to the boxes Azul carried. “Everyone loves a good old fashioned pastry. Can’t say the same for seafood.” Azul opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly both of their ringtones went off.

IM SO SORRY AZUL!!!!! I got caught up with something, can I come over tomorrow?? I likely won’t be done until later, the headmage has me doing stuff 😭

TREY!!! Tysm for the invite, you didn’t have to go out of ur way to give it in person!! ill definitely be there at the party! 😄 sry I’m not there atm, Crowley wanted me to do something for him

Trey frowned, reading your text. Azul huffed, shouldering the stack of food boxes, muttering “looks like today was a loss.” Trey sighed, “well, it can’t be helped…” he made a mental note to put the pastries in the Heartslabyul fridge and just deliver it to you tomorrow, under the guise of ‘checking up on you’ after working for Crowley. The two of them trudged down the path to the Hall of Mirrors, heading back to their dorms.

The two of them walked in silence until Trey abruptly said, “I don’t know what you want with the Prefect, but I hope you have their best intentions at heart.” Azul turned to give Trey a withering look, “I assure you, when it comes to the Prefect, I have nothing but good intentions.” As he stepped into Octavinelle, Azul smirked and muttered, “especially regarding their heart.” Trey lingered for a bit, staring at the Octavinelle mirror with an unreadable expression. “We’ll see about that,” he said aloud in the empty Hall, then headed back to Heartslabyul.

—•—♣️🐙🐍—•—

Meanwhile, you sighed heavily, collapsing onto the chair. The cafeteria was pretty much empty, save for the random student or two. It was already darkening outside, and you were hungry. Crowley wanted you to do something for him just before lunch, and soon half your Saturday was gone running around NRC. You’d even lost track of time, and missed Azul’s study session and Trey dropping in! You groaned, hearing your stomach growl loudly.

“Prefect? What are you doing here?”

You glanced up, seeing Jamil with a large container of tupperware and other small containers. The delicious scent of curries, labneh yogurt cheese, and freshly made pita made your mouth water. Despite yourself, Jamil caught you looking at the boxed-up food more than once.

“…Crowley had me running errands, and I may have skipped lunch…” your voice grew quiet near the end. Jamil raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I actually ended up making too much food for Kalim,” he said, moving around the table to sit next to you. “There’s enough for an extra person, and I’ve have already eaten.”

Your eyes widened, and Jamil started dishing out some curry and flatbread for you. Bright-colored curry sauce and chickpeas flooded the platter, wafting a delicious scent. As Jamil ripped a piece of pita, your stomach growl loudly. Your face felt warm. Jamil only chuckled, pushing the plate he’d conjured towards you. “What about Kalim?” You asked, feeling bad. Jamil smiled, “Please, go ahead. There’s enough for Kalim and you.” A warm smile grew on your face, and you gave Jamil a one-sided hug before digging in. “Thank you! You’re my savior!”

As he watched you eat, a tender look grew on Jamil’s face. He shifted the food containers so he could watch you while nibbling on some flatbread. It wasn’t difficult to determine that you were off on Crowley’s whims again - with you running around the school and being gone for several hours. With that in mind, it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault if he accidentally made too much food, so he thought he’d drop it off at Ramshackle later. It was sheer luck that you’d dropped by the cafeteria!

You hummed, soaking up some of the leftover curry sauce with your flatbread, “this was delicious, Jamil. Thank you so much.”

Jamil smiled genuinely, but a devious look came into his eyes when you looked back at your plate. “Please, Prefect, allow me. Wait here.” He took the plate, going to the kitchens to box up some food for you to take back. Walking back to you, he handed you the container, “It’s getting late, I can walk you back to Ramshackle.”

The two of you set off, with you holding some of Jamil’s boxes. “This was… really sweet of you, Jamil,” you smiled. You knew Jamil always had his hands full, whether it was taking care of Kalim or managing literally everything else. Maybe the food was making you gush, but you were definitely grateful for the impromptu meal. As you opened the door to Ramshackle, you gingerly handed the boxes back to him.

“Ah, wait,” he shuffled them and held a large one out to you. “This one is yours.” Your eyes widened, “Jamil, this is a lot-“ “Please.” Your eyes met his dark grey irises, and warm gratitude filled your chest. “Jamil, I… I really don’t know what to say. I have to repay you somehow-“ Now that was what he wanted to hear.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to try making some new dishes,” he glanced at you. “I’ve been needing someone to taste test them, and Kalim won’t be available…” You nodded eagerly, “Of course! I’d love to help you!” You said your goodbyes, and as the door shut behind you, Jamil had a calculating smirk on his face. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.

————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

Thanks for being patient everyone!! Hope you enjoyed this part, reblogs and comments are forever appreciated 💕

lmk if anyone wants to be added to the taglist! Take care shrimpies~ 😘

325 notes · View notes

changisworld · 1 day

Text

“Are you being serious?”

Fuckboy!hyunjin x reader

Word count;8,001

Summary: You & Hyunjin are finally moving into a positive direction, finals are now here though so you are both trying to focus on that, meaning you both can’t spend so much time with each other unless you both want to go insane. You tell your lecturer how well your assignments are going & he gets the bright idea to let you tutor someone in your class who is struggling a lot & is in desperate need of help… that being Hyunjins friend, Han Jisung.

18+, MDNI, SMUT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT.

main masterlist here

part 1 here & part 2 here

ALL WARNINGS: Jealous Hyunjin, Jealous reader, Possessive Hyunjin, voyeurism??, recording, spit, creampie, fingering, oral(m rec), body worship, PIV, unprotected sex, marking, begging, dirty talk, praise, angst & fluff, crying after sex, brief aftercare (more happens off screen), soft hyunjin

-> reader is described as Hyunjins girlfriend & 'she/her' pronouns are used a few times but its brief<3

->This isn’t proofread so if there’s any errors i apologise mwah x

In the month running up to finals, you have been absolutely drowned in assessments & of course you need to pass, so for that reason, you n Hyunjin haven't spent as much time together. You do both study together every once in a while but you work a lot better on your own & he respects that, leaving you to it as he studies in his own free time.

You have both been doing well in the sense your feelings have grown for one another but college is still the same, Hyunjin still being the bubbly person, sitting with his large group of friends while you sit further at the back, but to give him credit he does openly choose to work with you for random partner tasks (which half of the girls in the same course a you now resent you for) & he brings you a drink at least once a day.

You've just submitted one of your last essays (which you're proud of of course) & now you can relax a whole lot more than you were before... until your lecturer asks you if you would like an extra few credits.

You of course say yes, knowing it will definitely help if for some reason you get marks taken off for your other grades, not thinking it would be too hard to complete, that is until he tell you what you need to do.

"Jisung has been really struggling y/n, you can really help him & I know you can since you've never had below a ninety. Don't feel pressured please, but I'm sure he would really appreciate it." He says to you, giving you a pleading look.

You sigh before just nodding your head, not wanting to let your professor down, but also don't want someone in your class to fail simply because you couldn't be bothered to help him.

You know he's really good friends with Hyunjin, him mentioning a few times & they have always sat beside one another, loving to piss off everyone around them. You know he doesn't take anything too seriously but you would feel more guilty if you didn't at least try.

"Thank you y/n. I'll be sure to tell him when I next speak to him one on one. I'll see you tomorrow & I'll have him come talk to you, if he gives you a hard time though by being an idiot, don't be afraid to stop helping him, you're not being forced." He says to you in a cheery voice as he fixes his papers, messy all over his desk. You say your goodnights to each other & you leave the building, making the short journey home.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You get home & of course Hyunjin is already waiting for you, Tuesdays being the one day a week you promises you would spend time together, regardless of the busy schedules.

"Took you long enough, thought you had fell asleep in the damn hall. What was it he was talking to you about? I'd rather swallow a whole potato in one go than waste my time talking to that guy outside of hours, that guy hates me." Hyunjin questions, not looking up at you for more than a second as he stirs the pasta he is cooking for the both of you.

" He hates you because you made that mans hair go grey with the stress you've causes him n trust me, I almost did, we were talking about how I'm preparing for finals, he also asked me to help one of your friends with a whole lot of it." you sigh as you kick your shoes off & putting your bag on the coat peg hung up on the wall, on the tiny bit of free space that Hyunjins multiple jackets & hoodies now clogging up.

"Really? wait taste this, n who is it? Half my friends are dumbasses so you've got your work cut out, good luck to ya." Hyunjin jokes as he holds up the wooden spoon to your lips, his other hand underneath the spoon to catch any droplets.

You taste it n let out a hum of approval which makes him smile before turning around to continue stirring a few more times before going into your cupboard to grab two plates. "Your friend Jisung! I'm surprised he asked me out of all people, I've only had one actual conversation with him n that was during freshers, I only remember because he was wearing those glasses of his & kept bursting out into song randomly." you chuckle as you recall the memory, getting you both a glass before going into your fridge to grab the bottle of prosecco you bought yesterday just for this occasion.

Hyunjin stops his movement for a second before replying with a 'mhmm' & you don't think too much of it, grating some cheese before putting it on the coffee table in your living room rambling about random stuff, but his mind doesn't move. "So about Jisung, did you say yeah to helping him?" he asks, setting both of your plates down on the small table before grabbing two cushions off your couch n placing them on the floor, patting it for you to sit down next to him.

"Yeah, I agreed because I've only got a few more things to do n I'll be finished, I'd feel guilty for saying no, I can't let him just fail the entire course because I couldn't be bothered you know? If what you're worried about is that I won't have time for you, you're wrong, I'll still be seeing you on Tuesdays regardless." You reply in an your usual tone, giving Hyunjin a peck on the cheek as you thank him for the pasta before picking up your fork & taking a bite.

"Jisung.. Isn't someone you wanna try teach, It's a waste of your time, you should probably pass on the offer. You should help me! I'm sooo stuck on the power point." he responds, his voice monotone, trying to hide how pissed he actually is.

"Hyune, we both know you're not struggling, you only have like two more things to do so stop being silly, n besides, I get a few extra credits if I do it so it will be worth it." you say after swallowing a bite, looking at him & that's when you realise his body language, completely giving away the fact he is now in a sulk as he purses his lips at what you say, not verbally replying to you.

"Hyunjin, what's up with you, hmm? You were so happy when I got home, is something bothering you?" you ask him, putting your fork down. "It's just.. Jisung is just gonna try get in your pants y/n. I know what he's like, if he actually gave a fuck about this grade, he woulda tried way before now, he has a music career now so he doesn't even need college." he says, pointing his fork at you & swaying it around as he speaks, his voice serious despite him trying to sound unbothered.

You just look at Hyunjin, honestly confused on where this attitude has came from. "Just because he might have another career once he leaves, doesn't mean he doesn't wanna pass, Hyune. He won't 'get in my pants' I don't even know him or anything about him apart from what you've told me." a tinge of annoyance in your voice now, not at all liking what he has to say.

"Alright." he mumbles as he begins eating, not wanting to discuss it further so you ignore it, moving onto a different conversation, which makes his mood slightly better than it was before.

Hyunjin leaves an hour or so later, after helping you wash up & cuddling with you until you were dozing off. You give him a sheet of notes you had written earlier in that day just for him to help him with his own essays, changing the wording a whole bunch so he wouldn't accidentally write something similar to you have done, which he can't help but blush at the thoughtfulness. He leaves your apartment in the same mood when you first came home earlier on.

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You're walking to your morning class after grabbing a drink from the cafeteria when you hear someone calling your name from behind you over the music of your headphones, you turn around to see Jisung being the reason your name is being said, his dorky little smile looking back at you as he walks up to you.

"Hi y/n, in case you didn't know but I'm Jisung n I just wanna say thank you for helping me with all of this, means loads to me." he says, giving you an awkward chuckle as his hand rubs against the nape of his neck.

"Don't worry about it, just don't make it a waste of my time, I still need to do loads of my own stuff so I won't be waiting around for you." responding in a cold tone as you put your headphones on again before walking to your class.

You take your own unofficial seat & just go on your phone, not paying much attention to the things going on around you, blocking out the multiple conversations going on around you.

You look down to the right corner of the auditorium & notice Hyunjin isn't sitting in his own usual spot.

You; Where r u? u okay? Hyune<3: yea, just slept in lol, just take pics of what u write n i can use that, ill probs be in after break

You begin texting a response when the chair next to you is pulled out & someone sits beside you, you look to your left & Han is smiling at you, pulling his books out of his bag & placing them on the desk.

"Sir told me to come n sit beside you since he is helping yuna right now n he doesn't have time to re-explain it all to me. You still okay to help me, right?" He blurts out, looking at you with his boba eyes, you just nod your head & he smiles.

Jisung begins to show you where he's at on each part of the assessments he needs to do & shows you the very few notes he has actually been bothered to write down.

"You've only wrote this..? for an entire years worth of work this is all you have to help you?" yo snort as you hand back his notepad, your eyebrows raised. "I thought it wouldn't be this intense!" he responds, his voice whiney.

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You spend the next hour roughly explaining how to do the main parts of everything & you were writing down a few things for him since you realise he is a painfully slow writer, but you choose to hold your tongue since you think he is actually listening since he is actually asking you a question ever so often.

The time hits quarter past eleven so you grab your little blue money purse before standing up to leave for your break when Jisung moves his chair out so you can't leave. "Y/n, could I get your number or something? so I can text you.. about the work! of course." Han asks you as he stands up to face you fully.

"Awk yeah that would make sense, alright." you take one of your pens off the desk & open the cap before grabbing Jisungs hand before you write your number on it & then squeezing yourself past him, walking up the rest of the stairs to leave but he runs up to you again to begin walking with..well, behind you, ignoring his friends at the other end of the room shouting his name.

"Thanking you y/nnie, I can call you y/nnie right? anyways what's your plans for after college hours? Do you have a job you gotta get to? Any sorta clubs? I get the vibe you definitely are a part of... an art class. I woulda said book club but I feel as if that's too basi-" "You talk so much, holy shit. My plan is to finish what I need to finish tonight or tomorrow so I'll have time to actually help you" you cut off, rolling your eyes as you begin walking one of the common area benches, Jisung still trailing behind you.

You sit down & Jisung settles himself beside you, smiling at his friends whenever they walk past, talking your ear off as you just stare at him, not paying attention.

A minute later, You turn away from Jisung & lean your head against the wall in annoyance , Jisung now talking about how he lived in Malesia & almost got eaten by an alligator when your eyes scan the area & that's when you notice Hyunjin strolling towards you. You lean back upright & smile n wave at him & he smiles back, until Han pops his head out from behind you to see who you're waving at, your body no longer covering him from the way you're both sitting.

Hyunjin reaches you but doesn't sit down, instead standing in front of both of you. "Heya y/n, hi jisung, what you both talking about." Hyunjin says in a weird tone of voice, sounding slightly off standish. "Couldn't tell ya, sir didn't really go over anything new so I didn't write anything down to give you, he was just answering others questions, come sit." you say as you pat the spot beside you but he doesn't budge, feet staying glued to the floor, hi eyes moving to now look at the man sitting beside you.

"So if he was answering questions all day, why'd you not just ask him for help on what to do? Why are you putting more on y/ns plate?" Hyunjin spits to jisung, his facial expressions scarily neutral. "Because he would spend an entire day explaining it to me! I asked y/n a million times if it's fine n it's fine! y/n doesn't mind it." Han whines back, throwing his hands around & that's when Hyunjin notices your number drawn onto his hand.

Hyunjin looks at it then back at the both of you before scoffing. "Point is, you don't give a fuck about passing, I'm not stupid. I'll see you later." he speaks in the same cold tone, tapping your head condescendingly before walking away & down the hall out of sight.

"What the hell is his problem, he has such an attitude." you murur, mostly to yourself but Jisung responds anyway. "dunno, maybe stress." feigning innocence.

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Hyunjin walks into class, blood boiling. He sits on the opposite side than he usually does & puts his headphones on, basically throwing the items in his bag onto his desk before logging into his computer & pulling up his word document.

He doesn't look up at any of the noise around him, other students for some reason spending their break in the same room they've been sitting in for four hours now until someone taps his head before pulling his headphones off his head.

"Nice song, what's it called?" Lisa chimes as Hyunjin turns around, relaxing when he sees it's just her & not a random person trying to piss him off. "You're still on your essay? y/n handed hers in already, didn't your little girlfriend feel like helping you out?" she remarks, sitting on the edge of the desk, swinging her legs while she looks down at him.

"y/n.. isn't my 'girlfriend' so to speak n anyways, we both agreed to do it on our own since y/n concentrates better that way n i've learned that so do I, so if you could leave Lisa i'd like that." he responds, his tone sounding more rude than he intended.

"Who pissed in your cereal Hyunjin, jeez. That sucks, I'd love for you to help me, I'm further behind than I wanted to be, can I borrow your notes at least? & you sure y/n works better on her own? She was helping Jisungie a wholeeee bunch earlier." she speaks back, sweet toned, the smile not wiping off her face for even a second, picking up his notepad & flicking through it.

"Mhmm, just take it n give it back at the end of the day. I told y/n helping Jisung is a waste of time but sir n Jisung both wormed their way into her brain knowing she would feel too guilty for saying no, she didn't listen to me, she's too kind." he replies, not bothering to look up at Lisa despite feeling her eyes almost burning two holes into his side profile.

"Clearly not too kind if she can't listening to her own boyfriendddd" she teases, ruffling up his hair. "I told you, we aren't officially together, you taking my notes or no? I have stuff to do Lisa." he snarks as he finally actually looks up at her as she jumps off the desk, jotter in hand.

"I know, just wanted to hear you confirm the fact. I would ask you to send me the notes but you've blocked my number, y/n has you so bitched, didn't think I'd see the day." Hyunjin just rolls his eyes as Lisa says this but he sees you & Jisung walking back into the room, six or seven levels above & he gets an idea.

He rolls his chai out, blocking Lisas path as he looks up at her, a puzzled look on her face. "If you say please, I'll think about unblocking youuu." he taunts, his pretty smile showing on his face. Lisa looks up at you in your usual seat, noticing your quick glances down back at them, trying to not make it too obvious before looking back down at Hyunjin. "Pretty please, Jinnie?" she responds, battering her eyelashes as she ruffles his hair again.

He chuckles before moving out of the way, letting her past. As she leaves, he murmurs a 'next joke, fuck that' to himself, internally cringing at the conversation between them before pressing play on his spotify again & doing his work.

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The day finally ends & you are quick to get out of the room, not being surprised if steam was coming out of your ears with how pissed you are. You noticed Lisa & Hyunjin speaking & you were unable to concentrate from that moment on. 'Why was she touching him?' 'Why was he flirting with her?' 'what a fucking dick' keep bursting into your mind & you honestly want to punch them both in the face.

Hyunjin gets his notepad back from Lisa & walks away without saying much of anything to her, trying to catch up to someone in particular... Jisung.

He knows his schedule like the back of his hand & it doesn't take much walking or time to find him, sitting on a small ledge waiting for the main music room to be unlocked for him, Chris & Changbin, eating a packet of skittles, filling his chubby cheeks while just idly looking around.

"Heya Hyunjin, you alright?" He questions, pulling his legs closer to his chest so Hyunjin can sit down opposite him, which he does. "Been better, got a question for you though." he sighs, leaning forward to dig his hand into Jisungs packet & takes out a handful of skittles, dumping the green ones back into the packet.

"Go f'r it." he speaks, words muffled as he pours more into his mouth. "What you doing with y/n? I pretty much made it clear to stay away, so what is your problem? You coulda asked anyone to help you but I know you went to sir n specifically asked for y/n's help, you can't fool me I've known you too long." he questions, his voice sounding far too normal for it to be comfortable.

"You didn't tell me shit, n I'm not a toddler, what makes you think you can tell me what to do? You're not actually together together so why can't I simply speak to her?" he remarks, smirking at him knowing he is getting under his skin as he throws his empty food wrapper at the bin but missing, making him kiss his teeth.

Hyunjin scoffs at his words, in disbelief. "Han stop being a dick, y/n is mine n it's that simple so just fuck off, I've never told you to leave anyone fuck alone until now so just do it? It's not difficult believe it or not." Hyunjin snaps back, getting more annoyed as the clock ticks by, not bothering to keep his tone quiet as another student walks by every once in a while.

"Yea n we also agreed we wouldn't cockblock each other yet here you are, you guys aren't official which you said yourself so it's fair game. You can't claim someone if you're still flirting with your other little side pieces, me & y/n saw you n Lisa earlier. You seriously wanna get rid of everyone else you see for one person? Next joke." he replies, his voice raising at the end, honestly enjoying how pissed off Hyunjin is getting, his face getting more & more red.

"Lisa is literally nothing to me n yea-" Hyunjin is cut off as Changbin n Chan swivel around the corner, all smiles. "Heya Hyunjin, not seen you in ages, Jisung I got the key so we can go in now, you coming Hyun?" Chan questions as he turns his back to unlock the door.

"Nah, I'm busy n got things to do, I'll speak to you all later." Hyunjin replies, squishing Changbins cheeks playfully, trying to ease any tension the others are starting to sense, before walking off, his breathing intense as he leaves the building & pretty much speed walking home.

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He enters his complex building & storms up the multiple flights of stairs, skipping a step or two each time. He turns the corner & sees you sitting on his doormat, both of you making eye contact.

You stand up & wipe any dirt that could be on you as Hyunjin sighs, stopping in front of you as he moves one of his headphone speakers, not even bothering to fully pull them off.

"Are you gonna speak to me n tell me what's wrong with you Hyunjin?" You speak out, placing your hands on your hips. "Do you seriously not know what you've done? Give me a fucking break. Move, I want to get inside." he spits back before trying to worm his way around you but you stop him.

"Hyunjin what the fuck is your problem? I've done jack shit n yet you're treating me as if I'm an annoyance to you! I'm not leaving till I get an answer." you yell back, getting even more pissed at his attitude.

"I'm not even going to bother arguing with you, especially in my fucking hallway y/n, get inside." He spits out as he pushes your arm away & unlocks his door before entering, not bothering to shut it as he knows you're gonna end up following him.. which you do.

You shut his door behind you & chase behind him as he walks into his bedroom & throwing off his hoodie, not even acknowledging you as he does his usual routine.

"So you gonna explain or what? Also turn around when I speak to you, don't be so fucking rude Hyunjin." you utter, speaking to his back as he doesn't even bother looking at you.

"Got nothing to explain. You gonna tell me why you wrote your number on Jisungs arm when I specifically told you what he would be actually wanting from you & after telling you it would be a complete waste of time?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he turns around to look back at you, leaning on his desk.

You raise your eyebrows at him, not being able to hold back the shocked laugh at his words. "Are you being fucking serious? First of all Hyunjin, I'm not a kid that you can boss around n second of all, I only gave him my number so he can ask me about anything he needs & I'm basically finished everything I need to do for finals so I don't fucking care about helping your friend out a bit!" you yell back, your heart beginning to race.

"It's fucking obvious he was flirting with you y/n?! Are you really that naive to fucking see it? Sorry to be the one to tell you but it's true." he replies, swinging his arms around & pointing as he speaks.

"So fucking what if he was? It changes absolutely nothing since I'm not interested! But if you want to speak about flirting, you're a huge fucking hypocrite since you were basically drooling over Lisa earlier & you knew I was watching! Your attitude is disgusting & if you're acting like this when we aren't even official then what makes you think that is what I want? You're straight up immature." you shout, your voice going a bit raspy & your hands shaking.

"I did that because I was fucking hurt about what you were doing! & I know we aren't officially together but you haven't been acting as if you want to be with me! You don't even listen to me y/n when I know what the hell I'm talking about. I chosen you for me to actually try get into a relationship with but I'm thinking it's not worth it." he cries out, tears threatening to leave his eyes as he says this, shouting back at you.

"Are you trying to insinuate I'm 'lucky' to be in this position with you, get off your fucking high horse holy shit! I didn't flirt with Han at all but you can't say the same about you & Lisa, how am I supposed to trust you if you act like this over something so small? This isn't even fucking worth it Hyunjin, I'm not going to let you see me as if I'm beneath you." you respond, your voice going monotone at the end as you shake your head at him before turning around to leave, realising this conversation is getting nowhere.

Hyunjin is quick to step across his room & get between you & the bedroom door, blocking you from leaving. "When the hell did I say you're beneath me? Why can't you see how upset I am over all of this? I want to be with you in the future but you are just throwing it back in my fucking face? Do you just like the attention or something? Is that why you just straight up refused to listen to me?" he questions, looking right into your eyes with his own, his eyes being similar to how they looked when he came to your house & confessed to you not too long ago, but with anger mixed in along with them this time.

"You're fucking joking, right? What 'attention' am I getting other than you yelling in my face about it? Stop being such a jealous prick Hyunjin, the future isn't now so you don't have this 'claim' on me like you think you do, as much as I want it & how much you claim yo want to, we aren't fucking dating & you wanna know why I think you're trying to hold back? Is because you like the attention & you won't be able to fuck anyone else without it being considered cheating! Come back to me when you can sort your jealousy & other issues out." You scream at him, a tear or two falling down your cheeks but you're quick to wipe them away, not looking right at him as you speak.

Hyunjin cackles at our words before yet again stopping you from being able to leave, putting his hand on the door handle. "You speak so much stuff that you're convinced you know all about but you couldn't be so wrong it's honestly a joke. I don't want anyone else but you & I've made it so clear since the start, You expect me to not be jealous when someone is fawning over you.. what's mine? Acting as if your blood doesn't boil when anyone flirts with me? You being so pissed about Lisa is a prime example. Stop acting like you're any better than me, that you're not just as possessive over me, you just don't wanna seem like a psycho about it." He replies, his tone still full of venom but no longer yelling at you, tonguing his cheek.

"Why wouldn't I be jealous? I'm clearly threatened by all the girls who drool over you, even more so because I'm not similar to those girls, I'm not as confident or straight up ballsy as them! But the way you've gone about everything is so wrong Hyunjin." You cry, voice lowering to match his but the tears not fully stopping & he takes his finger to wipe them away, pouting.

"I'd be lying if I said you admitting you're jealous isn't hot, but stop fucking worrying, I wouldn't give you the time of day if I wasn't one hundred percent sure. Stop crying too, you don't need to. But being for real, y/n, sto-" He is cut off as your phone begins ringing in the back pocket of your jeans & Hyunjins arm is quick to swing around & pull it out before reading the nameless number, Hyunjin hands it to you with his eyebrows raised, already knowing who it is.

You answer the phone & It's obviously Jisung, who doesn't even give you time to say anything before asking you a whole bunch of questions, saying he is 'stuck' on what to do.

As Jisung speaks, Hyunjin taps the 'speaker' button before ushering you towards his bed, his smirk not leaving his face. You look up at him with confused eyes as the back of your knees hit the bed, making you sit on it before Hyunjin pushes on your shoulder so you're laying fully down, your feet still on the floor of his room before getting on top of you & moving your head to the side before nuzzling his face in your neck, beginning to nibble at it, making you tense up beneath him & your breath hitches.

"Jisung can I call you ba-" You're cut off by Hyunjin nibbling down on your neck as he mumbles a 'nuh uh' & your hand reaches up to pull on Hyunjins hair & he does his best to hold back a groan, his hand slithering down to your jeans, unbuttoning the button after around thirty seconds of trying & then using his hand & legs to push them down just far enough for acccess.

He begins to allow his finger to graze over the outside of your pussy, feeling the fabric of your panties, not failing to feel over the small wet patch now visible as he sucks a dark purple hickey into the crook of your neck & your eyes scrunch together as you bite your lip, trying to not make a sound.

"I did the first two paragraphs but I'm stuck on what quotes to use, I think the ones I've chosen are too short to keep writing about, what quotes did you choose?" Han questions on the other end of the phone but you're barely paying attention as the man above you now wriggles his fingers under your panties, now drawing small circles on your clit, making you gasp.

"You can't use t-the same quotes I use J-jisung, read what you've chose o-out to me." you stutter out, hips grinding against Hyunjins fingers as best as you can with the position you're in.

Jisung begins to read out his quotes & Hyunjin can't help but let out a small chuckle, half at how hard Han is trying but the other half being at how hard you're trying to remain coherent, so he steps up his actions. He cups your pussy before dragging his hand down to your dripping hole & entering two fingers in, a small squelch being heard & your legs tense up even more as you melt into his lips, still suckling hickey after hickey into your neck.

"Y/n? Am I breaking up? We can meet up if you want & you can go over it, I know a café we can meet at if you're free?" He requests & Hyunjin breaks away from you neck to reply for you. "y/n is busy, figure it out." he remarks as he hangs up before turning your phone off & tossing it to the side.

"Didn't know you're into that, y/nnie, you're so wet just from a few touches? So dirty." he remarks, smirking at you before locking his lips with yours, his tongue tasting your own before he even gives you time to respond & you bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

His fingers begin to hit against your G-spot as he uses a 'come here' motion as his thumb begins to rub your clit from side to side, making you whine into his mouth, making him smirk.

You move your arm down, dragging your nails down the front of him & over his abs over his shirt before beginning to palm his cock over his joggers, making his hips jerk forward before changing your position by rolling himself onto the bed & pulling you so you're straddling him, his fingers leaving your cunt as he does so, making you whince.

You begin grinding over his covered hard on after kicking your jeans fully off, you being left in just your shirt & panties. "Maybe you're the dirty one Hyune, can't resist touching me while your friend is on the phone hmm?" You finally have the chance to reply & Hyunjin chuckles as his hands come down to your ass, fondling the skin. "Oh but I can resist, but why would I when it's funny to hear him try ask you out while disguising it as 'studying' while you're at my house currently half naked?" he replies instantly, biting his lip as your wetness is now soaking through your panties & leaving a small spot on his clothes, staining them.

You roll your eyes before you pull his shirt off his body, messing up his hair a bit before you slither yourself off the bed & onto his carpeted floor & tugging on his joggers, his hips raising to help you remove them, leaving him in only his underwear.

"You're being bold for someone who couldn't take more than a quarter of my cock last time you sucked it, you trying to train yourself for Jisung?" he teases, resting his bodyweight on his elbows, looking down at you as you pull his hardened cock out, pumping it slowly in your hand.

"Maybe I just didn't want to take any more seeing since I have no idea where it's been." you spit back, looking up at him as you smirk, your bottom lip in between your teeth as you let a glob of spit escape your lips & fall onto his pretty pink tip. He opens his mouth to respond but you cut his words out of his chest by licking a long strip from just above his base to his tip before letting the tip fall past your lips, suckling on it softly, making him hiss.

You let your tongue swirl against his tip before you begin dipping your head lower, allowing your mouth to take part of his shaft in your mouth too. You are still a bit nervous since it's only your second time sucking cock but Hyunjins words fuel you to prove to him you can take it all, so as he is taking a deep breath out, hand holding your hair out of your face, you force your head down further so over half of his cock is now in your mouth & you hollow your cheeks, making his toes curl & have to consciously try not jerk his hips into your mouth.

"You been practicing y/n? Doing so well, taking it so g-good, so pretty." he groans, lightly slapping your cheeks, feeling his cock through the skin of your cheek, giving him butterflies.

You begin to bob your head up & down his cock as you use your hand to jerk him off in the same rhythm, making his grip in your hair tighter as his groans & hisses get more frequent, making you convinced you're probably leaking your own wetness onto the floor you're situated on.

You let yourself off his cock to catch a breath as you let all the spit that's formed in your mouth get dribbled back onto his cock if it hasn't already fell past your lips & you look up at him with glossy eyes as you pump him at a faster pace, his cheeks blown out & now breathing out his mouth.

"Only practice I've gotten is off the pretty boy I'm looking at right now." you chuckle, honestly having no idea where the confidence is coming from before you blow cold air onto his tip, making him yelp & scrunch his eyes shut before leaning forward to pull you back onto the bed.

"I refuse to cum before fucking you" he mumbles, out of breath as he kisses you again, full of tongue. "Open your mouth." he hushes as he breaks away from your lips, fingers playing with your folds over your panties again, his wet cock against your thigh.

You do as he says & he spits into your mouth, humming as you swallow it, nothing but lust in both of your eyes. "Such a slut deep down, aren't you? You want more? Your hips can't fucking stay still." he chuckles, biting his lip as he looks down at the sight below, your lower half squirming to try get more friction & you just whine.

"Hyune.. Please give me it, don't I deserve it?" You question, seduction tinging your voice & Hyunjin can't stop the feeling of his cheeks & ears going hot, the way you're currently talking making his head spin.

He stands up & pulls you towards the edge of the bed, still laying on your back as he peels off your soiled underwear, your pussy glistening & his mouth waters, deciding to spit right onto your clit, making you whine.

He pushes your legs that little bit further apart before situating himself between them, jerking himself slowly while looking down at you. "How bad do you want it, hmm? tell me how much you want it, pretty." he speaks, not looking away from your pretty face as he hits his tip against your clit, making a tiny, sticky slapping noise. "Hyune I deserve it, want it so much, don't I? Look how wet I am for you." you whine, fingers trailing down to spread your lips, exposing your hole to him.

Hyunjin groans at the action , his cock twitching as he aligns himself up with your entrance. "Say it one more time, didn't quite hear you." he replies, hand caressing the inside of your thigh as he drags his cock up & down your folds. "Hyunjin please just put it in! I need it s-" Your cries are cut off as he pushes his tip past your hole & sheaves into you until his pretty, full & heavy balls are against your skin, making you gasp.

"You're so tight, Jisung not fucking you right?" He asks, trying to sound calm & collected when in reality he is trying to not cum on the spot, your warm, wet walls wrapping around his dick perfectly. "t-stop winding me up hyune, please move." you whine in response, making Hyunjin smirk as he retracts his hips before thrusting back into you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

He sets a slow but powerful pace, small squelching noises & both of your whines & grunts filling not only his bedroom but the entire apartment. "For someone wh-who's such a fu-fuckboy, you're not fucking me l-like one." You struggle but get the words out, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine & it works as he grunts before pushing the backs of your thighs up against your chest before beginning to pound into you, making you squeal.

"You wanna try repeat that for me, hmm? You're saying that as if anyone can fuck you like this but me, your cunt is mine, can't your brain understand that or are you just too much of a whore to only want one dick?" He snaps at you, his hair sticking to his forehead because of the sweat as he abuses your cunt, his thumb reaching down to your cunt, making you yelp & your hips begin meeting his thrusts halfway.

You shake your head but he isn't happy with that response & he grabs your face by the cheeks, forcing you to look up at him as he leans forward. "Words, y/n, where did your boldness go, hmm? Who's pussy is this? Tell m-me." He asks, breath quick & short as he doesn't slow down for even a second, letting out a hiss as you reach up to his back & digging your nails into him on accident, for sure leaving marks later but none of you bothering to care.

"Y-y-yours! Hyun-jin I'ma c-cum." you screech, brain going completely blank, your body almost exploding with sensation. Hyunjin smirks at you before standing upright again, continuing his assault on your swollen cunt. "Cum for me then, show me how good I-I make you feel, Only I can do this for you, can't I? Only I know how to m-make you feel so good, you look so beautiful under me, you need to see." he groans back at you, throwing his head back momentarily before looking back down at you as you cum around his cock, wriggling & squirming as it washes over you, your knuckles going white from the grip you have on his bedsheets.

He fucks you through your orgasm, leaving you breathless before he pulls out. You don't have much time to question it however as he pulls out of you & grabbing your phone off the floor before returning to you.

"Gonna show you how fucking hot you look, It's on your phone so it's just for your eyes, no stress." He says, breathless as he turns on the video option before pressing record & sliding himself back into you, your orgasm forming a white ring around his base.

You clench around his thick cock, partly from overstimulation as he begins pumping into you again, chasing his own release now. The camera is pointed at you so you decide to act up a little, pulling your shirt above your tits, exposing your hardened buds to the camera & cold air of the room, making Hyunjin whine. "Look how beautiful you are y/n, you're anything & everything I could e-ever fucking want, taking me so well, I've t-trained you to take my c-cock so well." he says in a husky voice, his throat now dry as he continues ogling you, looking down at your swollen, reddened pussy, dragging the phone down to let the screen get a good look too, watching it tense & clench around him, making his knees almost buckle.

His eyes widen as your fingers move up to your pretty tits as you begin playing with your own nipples, tugging & pulling on them before raising your fingers to Hyunjins lips & he gladly suckles on them, moaning onto them before you pull them out of his mouth & caress your now spit covered nipples softly.

"You like the c-camera, beautiful? You-you're so dirty, so p-perfect for me. Turn your pretty face to the side, show the camera w-what you let me do to you y/nnie" He groans, his voice high pitched & squeaky & you do as he says instantly, not fully processing what he meant or said as he move the camera upwards, showing the purple marks he has inprinted on your skin.

"G-gonna cum y/n." he forces the words out & before you even realise, you're wrapping your legs around his waist & pulling him towards you. He tosses the phone to the side again before falling onto his elbows on each side of your head & you use the rest of your strength to tilt your head up enough to connect your lip to his neck & you begin pinching the skin of his neck with your teeth & you suck a big purplish red mark into his neck as his own orgasm washes over him.

He melts into your skin as his orgasm fills you, coating your walls & giving you goose bumps. You let him fully lay on you as you softly kiss his neck & earlobe, letting him catch his breath back as you also try relax your own breathing.

You lay like this for a minute or two in complete silence as you now begin playing with Hyunjins wet hair, before tears start leaving your eyes. You begin to sniffle & Hyunjins brain switches itself back on as he pushes his head up from your neck to look at you, now crying.

"Y/nnie, why are you crying? Did I hurt you?" He begins to panic as he moves off of you to start checking you but you sit up too, basically following him as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him back down to you.

"Just stay here f'r a bit, Hyune I'm sorry, I didn't know how upset I would make you." you sniffle, not looking right at him as he looks at your reddened face, his heart hurting. "I'm sorry too, I don't want you to feel insecure, I was being stupid. Can we.. go on a proper date? I know it's not the most romantic time or place to ask but I was n still am serious about only wanting you y/n, I mean it, pinkie swear." He asks you in a soft voice & he holds out his pinkie to you & you can't help but let out a small giggle as you interlock them together then kissing your thumbs before locking in the promise.

"Took you long enough to fucking ask me." You reply as you wipe the tears off your cheeks, reaching up to kiss Hyunjin on the cheek & his already red cheeks get an even darker shade.

"Better late than never, Stay here n I'm gonna get us a drink n we can go for a bath." He kisses your forehead before getting off of you but he takes the time to shuffle you up to his pillows & laying your head on it as he grabs his bed throw & lays you under it so you're not just sitting there, before leaving the room dancing & singing.

"Y/n & Hyunjin sitting in a tree" He sings out loud as he walks around his house & you can't help but laugh. "Stop singing that or I'll change my mind!" You yell & he shuts up instantly (not including the whine of protest he yells back), making you laugh to yourself.

I'm not completely sure I want to do a fourth part to this so in case this is actually the finale, I really hope everyone who has taken the time to read it has enjoyed reading the past 3 parts as much as I enjoyed writing them & thank you for all the kind words! <3

TAGS: @tsunderelino @troublemaker02 @ismokeeweed @lmhcats @isagerada

#skz smut #stray kids #hyunjin #skz hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #stray kids imagine #straykids x reader #straykids #skz imagines #skz #hyunjin stray kids #kpop smut #smut

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rosetterer · 1 day

Note

How about Buck taking care of a sick or injured Tommy? 🥹

Hi anon! I didn't edit or even read through what I wrote so I hope it makes some kind of sense, lol. Also, apparently, my thought of a short little story is almost 2000 words so... here you go:

The last time Buck was at the hospital had for once been for a good reason: his sister’s wedding. The memory of getting to kiss Tommy in front of strangers without a care in the world was a good addition to the day that Buck definitely thought about every once in a while. Well, actually, Tommy, in one way or another, was constantly on his mind these days.

He just wished that he could’ve kept thinking about their dates that had happened, some better than others, and the ones that were to happen in the future. Instead, his mind was filled with worry, and yet, still Tommy.

He knew, better than anyone, that being the partner of a firefighter could be stressful. Not everyone could handle it.

And now, as he was rushing around the hallways, trying to find the room number he’d been told over the phone, he understood. He wasn’t sure if he could handle this.

”Wait, wait, wait,” a nurse, much shorter than him, stepped in between him and the door that Tommy was supposed to be behind.

”My boyfriend’s in there!” He huffed out, a little more loud and aggressive than he meant to sound.

”Are you Evan?” The nurse asked then, her voice softening.

”Yeah,” he breathed out.

”Well, go on in then. He’s been talking a lot about you,” the nurse said, now smiling, and opened the door for him.

They hadn’t told him details of what had happened but the words ’Tommy’, ’injured’ and ’hospital’ had made him panic and leave his shift early. But Tommy, apparently, was talking and as Buck stepped into the room, he could see that he was also sitting there, chatting with another nurse, and most importantly, he was still breathing.

”Tommy,” Buck gasped out his name and hurried to stand next to his bed.

His hands hovered over Tommy’s shoulders, his chest, and he didn’t know where he could touch him without hurting him. The nurse was placing some kind of bandage on his leg and there were bloodied tissues thrown off to the side.

”What happened? D- Did the helicopter go down?” Buck asked, hearing and feeling the way his voice trembled. ”Or we-were you on the ground? Did you-”

”Evan,” Tommy interrupted him, taking his hands into his. ”I’m okay.”

”You’re in a hospital,” Buck reminded him. ”Do you have a concussion? Do you-”

”Tell him that I’m alright, please,” Tommy asked the nurse, his voice a little raspy now that Buck really focused on it. There was some soot on his face.

”No concussion,” the nurse told him, standing up straight now that the bandage was on. ”But twelve stitches is no joke.”

”Twelve?” Buck asked, genuinely shocked. ”How-”

”Baby,” Tommy interrupted him once again. ”I promise I will tell you all about it once I’ve gotten some rest, alright? I’m exhausted.”

Right. He’d been on a 24-hour shift.

Buck tried his best to pull himself together and cleared his throat, ”Right. Right… Well, can we leave? You’re coming to stay at my place.”

”Evan, you don’t have to-”

”Actually, I’m coming over to your place. The loft has stairs and I doubt it’ll be easy for you to climb them with your leg like that,” Buck wondered out loud, completely ignoring Tommy’s reply to him. ”I don’t have a shift tomorrow and I doubt you’ll be going back to work for at least a few days or until those stitches come off, so-”

”Evan, I’m fine,” Tommy told him once more. ”You don’t have to worry about me.”

”I’ll go get your discharge papers,” the nurse commented quickly before Buck could reply and slipped out of the room.

”You are not fine,” Buck huffed out, sitting on the edge of the bed. ”And you don’t need to pretend like you are, babe. Injuries suck. I would know.”

”Yeah,” Tommy said with a dry chuckle. ”But I swear, it doesn’t hurt much and they told me that I’m allowed to walk normally as long as I’m careful, so I can take care of myself, you don’t have to-”

”I want to,” Buck whispered to him, finally daring to touch Tommy’s shoulder. ”I want to take care of you. I want to come home with you and I want to make sure you have everything you need. You scared me.”

That seemed to finally make Tommy speechless. He looked at Buck for a while and Buck desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking about but decided to wait instead.

”Okay,” Tommy said eventually.

”Okay,” Buck sighed, relieved.

”I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tommy continued then, resting their foreheads together.

Buck shook his head, ”Not your fault. This is what our job is like. As long as you just keep being as careful as possible, I’ll… I’ll be able to handle it.”

”Right back at you,” Tommy said with a small smile.

Buck pressed their lips together for a short moment.

Tommy was lying on his couch with his leg propped up by pillows that Buck had gathered from around the house. Buck had made a quick meal of the ingredients he’d found in Tommy’s fridge, which often was chicken and vegetables, and that was no different today.

And now, he was just staring.

Tommy had been napping on and off for the past three hours they had been at home. Buck kept his distance, not wanting to disturb his sleep any more than it seemed to be disturbed by his dreams already.

And it was only when he woke up with a gasp more violent than before, Buck finally rushed over to his side. He ran his hands through the curls that had appeared after the very interesting shower session they’d had (nothing sexy, just difficult because of his leg injury) and hushed him.

”It’s okay, you’re at home,” he whispered to Tommy, who was now blinking up at him. ”I’m here.”

Tommy took hold of his free hand, squeezing it so tightly that it almost hurt. He licked his dry lips and swallowed, before resting his head back against his pillow, taking in a deep breath.

”Christ,” he mumbled under his breath.

Buck kept gently scratching his scalp with the tips of his fingers, ”You’re okay, it was just a nightmare. I’m here.”

”Thank God for that,” Tommy whispered to him, somehow holding onto his hand even tighter.

”What did you dream about?” Buck asked once Tommy’s breathing seemed to be under control.

”Today,” Tommy replied, shaking his head a little. ”The call we got was horrible.”

”I’m sorry,” Buck whispered, dropping his hand to Tommy’s neck and rubbing the warm skin there.

”We were called to assist because we were nearby, even though they didn’t air support,” Tommy explained to him. ”Some kid had set the school on fire and with the way the building looked, I doubt it was up to any kind of code. It was like a piece of paper, just burning away.”

Buck nodded, listening.

”There was a spot where the fire was at its worst. Obviously, we started from there,” Tommy continued. ”We went in. There were a lot of kids still stuck inside and we just… We had to get them out. The hallways were confusing… The fire seemed to be everywhere. And the screaming…”

Buck sighed, now gripping Tommy’s hand back, just as tightly.

”The floor gave in, me and two other firefighters went down with it. None of the kids did, thank God,” he said. ”The next thing I remember is being carried out of the building. I don’t think I even hit my head that hard, I mean, I don’t even have a concussion, but… I don’t know if it was just the shock that made me black out for a moment.”

”And what happened to your leg?” Buck asked softly.

”I’m not sure…” Tommy replied. ”Something sharp must have sliced it on the way down. I don’t remember being in pain. Not until I was in the ambulance anyway…”

Buck nodded, ”I was so scared when they called me.”

”I’m sor-”

”No,” Buck stopped him immediately, placing a finger against Tommy’s lips, ”I don’t want you to apologize for getting hurt. I want to know when these things happen and I want you to tell me about them because… I know what it’s like to suffer through these things alone. To keep those thoughts inside your head. I don’t want that for you. You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

The smallest of smiles spread on Tommy’s lips. He tilted his head a little.

”Noted,” he said, bringing his hand to rest against Buck’s cheek. ”Thank you, baby.”

Buck kissed his palm.

”Do you often get nightmares after something like this happens?”

”Not really, no,” Tommy told him, sounding genuine. ”In my nightmare, you were there. Don’t get me wrong, the whole call was horrible, especially because kids were involved but… In my nightmare, you were there and went down as well and I couldn’t find you-”

He paused to take in another deep breath.

”Hey,” Buck whispered, leaning closer. ”I’m right here.”

”I know,” Tommy said, now looking at him intensely, the way that he often did when he wanted to make sure Buck was truly hearing him. ”The thought of losing you… Terrifies me, Evan. When I met you for the first time, I- I thought you were cute but I couldn’t have realized how much you’d end up meaning to me.”

”You mean a lot to me too,” Buck told him. ”And the thought of losing you terrifies me as well but I guess that’s- that’s the price that we’re going to have to pay for doing what we do and being together. I’m willing to live with that. Are you?”

Tommy nodded, ”Of course, Evan. Of course.”

”Good,” Buck said with a small smile, trying his best to ignore his eyes welling up just the smallest amount. ”Because you’re not getting rid of me. I am not going anywhere, Tommy, and even if the damn universe tries to take me away from you, I won’t let it.”

”That is… a lot,” Tommy chuckled gently.

”It’s the truth,” Buck whispered and pressed their lips together.

He allowed himself to linger, knowing that no one would interrupt them.

”Now rest up. I’ll heat up some food and when you’re feeling like it, we’re going grocery shopping. I know you’re all about working out and all that but I will not have my boyfriend only eating chicken and vegetables,” Buck rambled to him as he got up from his seat and started making his way toward the kitchen.

He turned to look back at him before stepping into the kitchen and found Tommy looking right back at him.

Buck smiled, ”I love you.”

And Tommy smiled right back. ”I love you too, Ev.”

They would be just fine.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fanfiction #prompt fill #rose answers #911 on abc

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sleep-drunk-kitten · 2 days

Text

pairing: Jay x fem!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst/miscommunication trope? if you squint? Oneshot bullet point fic

content warnings: none

Summary: Sunoo is sick of watching you pine after Jay when he clearly has feelings for you too, so he devises a plan to give the two of you some much needed alone time

notes: this was the result of a very delusional conversation I had with @nar-nia, thank you for fueling my delulu thoughts and beta reading the first draft love <3 I would never have posted this if it wasn't for your support ;*

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You were going to kill Jake and Sunoo

This was all their fault

They were the ones who had insisted that you all leave the “stuffy” confines of the airbnb your friendgroup had rented for your annual trip to the beach to visit the boardwalk and amusement park barely an hour after you’d all arrived

Doing everything in their power to drag a spaced out Sunghoon and a tired looking Jay along

Sunoo sulking and singing an extremely off-key rendition of “part of your world” while dragging you through the living room in a clumsy waltz, gesturing dramatically at the large glass windows leading out onto the patio to emphasise his point every time he hit a line about dancing or walking

When his attempts at annoying them into going inevitably failed, he decided the only thing left was to get both you and niki on his side and beg

Convincing Niki was a bit of a task, the younger boy content to lounge around on a beanbag with his nintendo

He probably would’ve stayed there had if it was only Sunoo asking him for help... purely for the sake of annoying his hyung

But Jake overheard Sunoo's whispered pleas, and when he joined the campaign and asked the younger boy for help, Niki couldn’t really find it in him to say no

Enlisting your help was significantly easier, even if you were a bit annoyed by his earlier antics

Because while you were close to everyone in your little group, Sunoo in particular had a special place in your heart, having been by your side since childhood, you would do almost anything for him

Even if it meant putting on an indifferent facade in front of the man you’d been in love with for an unhealthily long time

Jay really didn’t want to go to the amusement park

although the rest of you had gotten to sleep and recharge between stops, he and Sunghoon were both tired after staying alert and herding you all from place to place all morning

All he wanted to do was sleep

But Sunoo had somehow managed to rope both you and Niki in on his schemes

It would have been hard enough to say no to his precious little brother

But you?

How could he say no when you were asking so nicely? Pleading your case by saying that this was a trip you’d all taken to make memories together, so what was the point if Jay and Sunghoon weren’t there with you?

God you were just too cute

Jay tries to appeal to you and Niki, knowing there’s no point in trying to talk Sunoo out of this

“But (y/n)-ah, Niki, we’re tired, it’s been such a long day, can’t we just stay in till dinnertime?”

“Exactly,” Sunghoon says from his spot beside Jay, eyes coming back into focus for the first time since you’d started speaking, “we could always go tomorrow, the fair isn’t going anywhere.”

“It is, actually,” Heeseung joins the fray, walking into the living room from the kitchen, looking at something on his phone. “Or at least the ferris wheel is, they’re closing it down for maintenance tomorrow, and it won’t be open again till the day we’re leaving.”

“See! Heeseung gets it!” you exclaim, high fiving him.

Jay feels his heart sink just a little at the sight

It had been almost two years since Niki had told him about your feelings for Heeseung, casually dropping the bomb as the two of them sat on lawn chairs by Jake’s pool, watching you try and fail to yank him off a large unicorn shaped pool float and into the water

Jay had played it cool, laughing along like it meant nothing

Except it did

Because Jay had realised very early on in your friendship that he was a dead man walking

From the moment when Sunoo dragged you over to their table at lunch, announcing that you were his best friend, and you’d introduced yourself with a nervous little smile on your face

To the days where you walked home with them, laughing and bickering with Jake over silly things like whether or not water was wet and if black was a color

And all the times he’d seen you sitting quietly with Niki, allowing him to lean on you like an older sister

With every day that passed, Jay had found himself falling faster and faster, till he got to a point where he feared there was no return

But he was too late

You liked Heeseung

And whether you chose to act on that or not, it just wasn’t his place to try and win you over when you liked someone else

So he sets his feelings aside, packing them neatly away and schooling his expression into something as neutral as possible

“That’s just the ferris wheel though, isn’t it?” Sunghoon asks, still trying to find a reason to stay curled into the soft couch cushions

“Yeah but (y/n)’s been looking forward to trying the ferris wheel since we started planning!” Sunoo whines, nudging you pointedly

“Mnmm!” you nod, It wasn’t exactly true, you’d only mentioned once that the ferris wheel looked pretty

But they didn’t have to know that

“Really, (y/n)?” Jay asks

You nod enthusiastically, not knowing how much you’d regret it

Jay can feel his resolve crumbling, how could he deny you anything when you look so genuinely excited about it? He’d rather drown himself in the sea than be one to take that away from you

So here you all were, walking along the crowded boardwalk, passing by booths with an assortment of hand crafted souvenirs and trinkets on display against a backdrop of colorful cloths, the smell of warm sugar and sizzling street foods mingling with the ocean breeze

It was all fun and games at first, all of you trying foods, taking pictures, walking up to a few stalls and attempting to win prizes, competing to see who could walk away with the biggest stuffed toy that night

You were laughing, joking around with Jungwon, winning a large duck plushie for Niki, twirling around and showing off the pretty sundress you’d thrown on when Sunoo pointed his camcorder at you

Blissfully unaware of the pointed looks passing between him and Jake

The two of them had noticed early on the way Jay stuck close to you

Carefully placing himself between you and any other tourists who were brushing past a little too close for comfort

Watching you twirl for the camera with such a nauseatingly lovesick expression on his face that Sunoo nearly gagged

Only to move away as soon as Heeseung approached you

Giving the two of you “space”

Space to do what exactly Sunoo had no idea

Sure you’d liked Heeseung when you’d first been introduced to his friends

But that hadn’t lasted long at all

Your affections quickly shifting to someone else

The poor pink-haired boy had lost count of the number of times he’d had to listen to you complain about how handsome Jay was

How kind and attentive he was

What an amazing husband he’d be one day

How lucky his future wife would be

Sunoo wanted to grab you by the shoulders and remind you that there was a fair chance that that future wife could be you

He had done just that on more than one occasion

But you brushed him aside every time

Saying there was no way Jay could ever have feelings for you

It drove him insane

Especially when he noticed the way Jay looked at you

Jake was thankfully spared from most of your rants

But he was very much aware of how you felt

And he agreed with Sunoo, there was absolutely no way Jay didn’t return your feelings

So the two of them had come up with a plan

At some point, Jake let slip that while you were very excited about riding he ferris wheel, you were actually scared to go on because you were afraid of heights

You turned to him in surprise, unsure how to respond to the wholly false claim without exposing the fact that you’d lied about wanting to ride the ferris wheel in the place

Sunoo joined in a moment later, complaining about how he’d tried to convince you that it wasn’t all that scary, that these things were checked regularly to ensure they were safe, but that you just wouldn’t listen

You’d elbowed him in the ribs, confusion painted across your features

When Jay made a suggestion

An absolutely terrifying one

“Well… one of us could go with you if you’d like? It probably won’t be as bad if you’re not all by yourself”

“That would be brilliant! But Jake and I promised to go in the haunted house with Niki…”

“I could go with her then, I don’t really feel like scaring myself silly when I won’t be sleeping in my own bed tonight.”

“Could you? That would be great! Whaddya say (y/n)?”

All three pairs of eyes land on you, and for a moment you feel your mouth go dry

On a ferris wheel… In a small glass box… alone… with Jay…

It sounds absolutely terrifying

“I’m not too sure…” you start to say, but Jay bumps his shoulder against yours, and when you manage to will yourself to look at him, he’s smiling down at you

“C’mon, I’ll be right there with you he whole time,” he says, “you’ll regret it more if you don’t go.”

You swallow around the lump that’s formed in your throat

He’s right

You were the one who’d gone on and on about making memories

Here was a prime opportunity to build a memory you’d surely never forget

Wouldn’t you regret it more if you chickened out now?

“Okay…I’ll go,” you said

And the cheers that erupted from the three boys were so infectious that you forgot about the nervous butterflies filling your chest

Until of course you were actually on the ferris wheel

The glass doors sliding shut to seal your fate

You hadn’t known that there was only one seat in the capsul

Hadn’t counted on being right next to Jay, your thighs occasionally knocking together

The proximity was doing nothing to help the racing of your heart, sharp pinpricks of heat blossoming under your skin and spreading up your neck and ears

“(y/n), you there?”

Jay’s voice startles you a little, and you wince before you can catch yourself

“Huh? Oh yeah… I’m here, sorry”

Your familiar, nervous laugh makes Jay smile a little, reminding him of the day you first met

But he quickly brushes the memory aside, choosing to focus on you

You seemed uncomfortable

Were you really this afraid of heights?

He tries his best to smile reassuringly, tilting his head to one side so he’s looking up at you instead of it being the other way round

“Well hello, welcome back,” he says, unaware of the way those few words send the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy

“Hi…” you manage back, mentally patting yourself on the back for how normal your voice sounds

“Hi,” he chuckles, and the sound makes your brain go a little fuzzy, so much so that you barely register it when he gestures behind him. “I know you’re avoiding looking out for a reason, but you really should.”

“What? Oh, right, I- ooh.”

You sigh, suddenly forgetting why you’d been panicking in the first place

“It’s beautiful…” you say, but you’re also looking at Jay when you say it, golden light washing over his skin, making him glow against the backdrop of the sea

“It is,” he says, and if you’d been paying more attention, you would have noticed two things:

Jay’s back was to the sunset, he’d been looking at you the whole time

The ferris wheel had stopped moving some moments prior

Unfortunately for you both, your mind only processes the second, your eyes as wide as dinner plates when your brain catches up with your body and the lack of motion finally sets in

“Jay… Is this ride supposed to stop?”

“No?”

“No?!”

“I mean I’m pretty sure it’s not?!”

Realisation dawns on you, and you rush to the side of the pod, watching as Sunoo and Jake, your own best friend smiles back you, blowing you a kiss

You know what they'd done.

You know because you would have done the same in a heartbeat

The butterflies in your chest seem to double, wings beating frantically against your ribcage

The panic that had temporarily subsided beginning to creep back up your spine

Buzzing through your veins and going straight to your head

How long would you be up here? What were you supposed to do when your heart felt like it was caught in your throat? How were you supposed to remain calm when Jay was sitting right next to you looking so so beautiful knowing he probably thought you were insane for freaking out like this when it really wasn't a big deal and you should have been fine and-

“Hey, hey, calm down, breathe, I was wrong, stop looking out there (y/n).”

Oh no

He’s touching you now, a hand on your arm pulling you back, tugging you away from the glass and the view that honestly didn’t scare you as much as he thought it did

And closer to him

The real reason you felt like you were going to vibrate right out of your skin

Your eyes dart around almost frantically, focusing on anything but him

Jay watches you fidget in your seat, hands clasped together in your lap, face flushed, breathing uneven

He’s never seen you like this before

And he can’t help but blame himself

He should’ve never let Sunoo and Jake talk you into this

“(y/n), (y/n) please, I need you to breathe, look at me please.”

His hands come up to gently cup your cheeks, turning your face away from the “frightening” view outside and forcing you to make direct eye contact with him

You feel your heart stutter where it’s lodged in your throat

“Focus on me, please, don’t think about anything else, just focus and breathe for me, yeah?”

You could cry

Tears welling up in the corners of your eyes

Jay has absolutely no idea how difficult he’s making this for you

Completely clueless to the way the deepening crease between his brows makes you want to kiss it

How the way his lips are pressed together with worry makes your heart flip in your chest

“(y/n), I can feel you shaking, this is just a technical difficulty, you’re okay, nothing’s going to happen.”

But I want it to

The words rest on the tip of your tongue

You want something to happen

The longer you stare at him the harder it is to focus on his eyes, the task proving impossible with the way your heart squeezes painfully in your chest at how soft and open they are, how intently he’s looking at you, it makes you feel like you’re special to him when you know you’re not

He’s looking out for you the same way he would Niki or Jungwon

You need to remember that

But not looking at his eyes means looking at the rest of him

Which you soon discover is almost as dangerous, because what you find yourself focusing on now is his lips

The way they curve around the vowels of your name as he tries to talk you through the jumbled, scattered thoughts and feelings he's causing

Oh the irony

But he's not really faring much better

Jay feels like he’s going insane

He sees the way your eyes keep flickering across his face

Settling on his lips just a little too long for his peace of mind

You're making him question how you really feel about him

Pulling at the strings wound tightly across the box of memories he'd stashed neatly away

Moments where he'd been sure you looked at him in ways friends weren't really supposed to look at each other

He can't do this

Jay pulls his hands away from your face, allowing them to flutter over your skin

Over your jaw

Down your neck

Across your shoulders

Before coming to settle on your upper arms

Leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, gently pushing you away, holding you at arms length, his body bowed as if in pain

“You can’t do that (y/n),” he breathes, letting out a shuddering breath

“Jay?” your voice is barely anything above a whisper, fear creeping in with the panic

Did he see? Did he notice? Did you somehow manage to make him uncomfortable after everything you’d doen to avoid that exact scenario?

“You can’t keep looking at me like that when you have feelings for Heeseung.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, for the cogs in your mind to turn them over and process them through white noise and fog filling your head like cotton

And when they finally do sink in, you blanch, willing yourself to get it together, to apologise, to do whatever you had to do to salvage the situation

But Jay speaks again before you can

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t mean anything to me.”

It’s Jay’s turn to swallow around the lump in his throat, his grip on your arms tightening, face downturned, staring at the peeling blue vinyl between you

The butterflies in your chest slow, settling along your ribs so the anxious beating of their wings stills to a steady thrum

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, surprising yourself with how calm you sounded

“I mean… I mean that you have no idea how insane it makes me when I see you with him, when you’re laughing together and you smile at him like he’s your whole world, because I wish you’d look at me like that, because… and I know it’s selfish but I wish that I could be the only one to make you laugh… But I know that you like Hee, and that’s okay, my feelings are my own, it’s not on you to take responsibility for them, but I need to take care of my own heart (y/n) I feel like I’m losing my mind I-”

“Jay,” you cut him off, voice coming out more harsh than you’d intended, but it works, his mouth snapping shut immediately. “Jay, look at me please,” you say, more gently this time.

He does as you ask, and your heart breaks a little when you realise that his eyes are as glassy as yours

You place your hands over his, and for one, horrible moment, though he knows he deserves it, though he knows you have every right to, he thinks you’re going to tear yourself away from him.

But you don’t.

Your hands are warm against his, too warm, and they’re still shaking, but they’re moving his lower, over your elbows, onto your sides, till they come to rest on your waist. He can feel your pulse in your wrists, matching his beat for anxious beat

He’s so distracted by how soft you feel and how perfectly you fit in his hands that he flinches when you lean towards him, moving away from you on instinct

Cute, you think, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from twitching upwards

“What if I want to?” you whisper, his pupils blown wide as he searches your expression, “what if I want to take responsibility for your feelings?”

For a moment, you’re sure neither of you remembers how to breathe. The world standing still

Jay isn’t really sure he’s capable of forming a coherent sentence, words rushing through his skull and coming to an abrupt halt before they could make it past his lips

So he settles for the next best thing

Slowly, his hand moves from your waist, brushing against your knuckles, tentatively lacing his fingers through your own, careful to give you time to pull away should you wish to

But you don’t

You level your gaze with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as if to say ‘go on’

He lets out a breath, he didn’t know he was holding, cautiously bringing your hand up to his lips, barely brushing them over your skin before turning your hand over and placing a soft, chaste kiss against your palm

His eyes don’t leave yours for even a moment, watching you intently, gauging your reactions. When you don’t flinch or move away, he lets your entwined hands fall to the side.

“What about Heeseung?” he asks, even as he’s leaning towards you, even when you can feel the ghost of his lips on yours.

You giggle despite yourself, bringing your free hand up to thread your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. “It was never him, silly…”

A shiver runs down his spine, whether from your words or your actions neither of you can really say

And it doesn’t really matter anyway

Your eyes flutter closed, you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin-

And the ferris wheel starts turning again with a sharp jolt

Sending you crashing into each other, foreheads knocking together painfully

You both groan in pain, looking around confusedly, trying to regain your bearings as the moment passes

When your eyes meet again, and you realise that your hands are clasped together tightly between you, neither of you can stop the fit of giggles bubbling up in your chests

You’re both still laughing by the time you make it back to the bottom, the doors sliding open to reveal your friends waiting for you with triumphant smiles on their faces

Niki grumbling as he hands Sunoo several folded bills

You let go of Jay’s hand the second you see it, marching over to kick their shins

“You didn’t even go to the haunted house did you?” you whisper-yell, glaring daggers at them

Sunoo’s smile is pure evil, flicking your nose and replying in the most annoyingly smug tone you’d ever heard. “Now now, (y/n), is that any way to talk to the person who so graciously helped you get over the pathetic moping phase of your crush?”

“Which lasted much too long by the way,” Jake chimes in, joining the conversation

“You were in on this?!”

“You weren’t exactly subtle sweetheart, Jay was just fed false information thanks to this kid.”

“Excuse me?”

The bickering continues as you all walk away from the ferris wheel, Niki and Jake both getting whacked over the head with the large pink octopus Sunoo had won for you as an apology (the only reason he wasn’t getting beaten up too)

It isn’t until the two of them run away from you, cackling like hyenas, that you feel an arm wrap round your waist

Holding you loosely, Jay leans down so only you can hear him

“We’ll finish that conversation later, (y/n).”

And then he’s gone

Leaving you standing there, feeling flustered enough to match the octopus in your arms, glaring at a snickering Sunoo

#kiki writes things ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#enhypen #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #park jongseong #park jongseong x reader #fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #engene #oneshot

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bs2sjh · 1 day

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May 13 - Laugh

I'm sorry I missed yesterday. I've been visiting my parents, so I've had no time to write. So we have a double bill today!

Tomorrow's will be a biggie.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been a long time since he'd had a 'danger night'. It hadn't been hard to resist the siren call of the drugs since solving the case to 'Save John Watson'. He had finally admitted years ago that he had been an addict. He had also admitted that he would always be recovering and that he would never truly eradicate the need for them, like a niggling itch in the back of his mind. A big enough catalyst could undo it all.

Helping John to raise little Watson had helped. She gave his life focus and made him be the best version of himself just for her. And John. The years had only strengthened his feelings, yet he had still never plucked up the courage to say anything, to risk everything they had for more. Now, it was looking like he might never get the chance. The intervening days between the argument and the letter had shown that, if anything, things were getting worse rather than better.

He missed them. He missed the sound of Rose's laugh and the feel of a house filled with life. With cooking smells and the detritus of life scattered about. Of homework being completed and bedtime routines. Of companionship and love.

The desire for oblivion called louder and louder. He knew he mustn't break.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

May 14 - Eavesdrop

Air. He needed air. To breathe deeply through his nose, to count to ten and hold the anger inside before he did anymore damage. Thumping the wall had been the release valve inside, yet more anger needed to vent. He was furious.

He marched down the street, too angry to hail a cab or descend the Underground. He needed space and time to calm down before being subjected to people.

He knew it had been wrong to eavesdrop on the conversation. To listen to what Sherlock was saying. His brain filled in the other half of the phone call, and Sherlock didn't dispute anything. So, he must have inferred correctly. How could he have been anything other than angry at finding out his best friend was abandoning him again? Was making plans that didn't involve him and Rose. He thought that after all they had been through, he had at least earned the courtesy of a heads-up that something so life-changing was about to happen.

To think, he'd been planning on telling him. That maybe, after all these years, there was potential for them to be...

It didn't matter. That was clearly off the cards now. Just going back to being friends seemed an impossibly long way off.

As the distance from Sherlock increased, his heart felt increasingly battered and bruised.

For @calaisreno's May Prompt Challenge. Tags in the comments. If you would like tagging, let me know. All previous chapters can be found here.

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janeofcakes · 3 days

Text

One Night in Palermo: Chapter 1

Hi, Everyone! I haven't done this in ages and I hope you'll all jump on board again for another story. It's 18 months after Sherlock jumped from Bart's and he's busily taking down Moriarty's web. He's also pining and worried for John, who thinks he's dead. Sherlock's trying to make his way to the Moran, the web's center, when another assassin comes on the scene. Find out what happens!

----------

One year to the day Sherlock leapt off Bart’s, his best friend watching in horror, found him creeping into a dank warehouse in the middle of Belgrade, Serbia. The dead detective had been all over the country in the last year, as well as those sharing its borders. Hungary and Romania, Bulgaria, North Macedonia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Montenegro; all extensively traveled in the name of destroying Moriarty’s web of terrorists and murderers. He had just come through Kosovo from an assignment in Albania and tomorrow would take him to yet another location.

James Morairty may have died on the roof of Bart’s one year ago, but his criminal organization remained intact and Sherlock could not rest until Greg Lestrade, John Watson, and the beloved Martha Hudson were safe. Then maybe he could return to his old life of London and 221B and cases and John. Sherlock missed John most of all and had not been dead long before realizing the true extent of his feelings for his flatmate. Every moment not chasing down Moriarty’s criminals was spent wondering about John and what he was doing, or how he was doing. Worse yet, he dreamt of his flatmate as well, and they were becoming increasingly explicit in nature.

Sherlock gave a slight shake of his head to clear it. This was certainly not the time to go down that route of thinking. Mycroft’s intelligence indicated ten men in this building, making Sherlock’s full attention to the matter at hand imperative. The year’s assignments marked the longest period of time the detective had ever worked with his brother and there was at least another year to go before it would end. Remarkably, it had not been utterly intolerable as Sherlock had expected. Mycroft understood how Sherlock’s mind worked and gave him only the relevant information for each assignment. They met over virtual calls on a secured platform after each assignment was finished to discuss the next. Sherlock had needed serious medical attention on only two occasions and was immediately taken to a secret facility possessing everything required to address his injuries. The same short, blonde doctor cared for him each time, no doubt hand-selected by Mycroft to ensure Sherlock’s cooperation. The elder Holmes even made an appearance in both situations to make sure his baby brother was all right. He did not make himself tiresome either, much to Sherlock’s surprise, despite spending quite a lot of time by the detective’s side the second time around.

Sherlock had been caught during his last visit to Serbia. His captors quickly determined the usefulness of keeping him alive, but had no compunction with torturing him for the six weeks before his rescue. Mycroft even deigned to perform the extraction himself, he and his team infiltrating the base and killing every man in the bunker before carrying Sherlock out. It was at least a week before the detective could hold his eyes open for more than a few blurry moments at a time. When his senses and powers of deduction had returned, Sherlock was certain Mycroft had not left his side once. Oddly, the two brothers had grown closer as they worked together, but neither spoke of nor acknowledged it.

Having found no one in the warehouse thus far, Sherlock proceeded down a long hallway that led to a large meeting room. Intelligence supplied by Mycroft’s spies had shown it was where the ten men spent most of their time. A door at the left side of the room opened into an office used by a man named Markovič, the indisputable leader of this terrorist cell. He had worked closely with Moriarty on more than one occasion and murdered countless people around the world.

Two other doors entered the meeting room; one that opened to a hallway of small rooms wherein the men slept and the one Sherlock was steadily approaching. The ideal situation for Sherlock was finding all ten men in the meeting room. Slightly less ideal, was Markovič in his office and the other men in the meeting room. Some of them having a kip in their individual rooms was the least ideal, but this time of night typically saw them all together planning the events of the following day. Regardless, Sherlock was prepared for any eventuality, or so he thought.

Sherlock slowed his step as he approached the room’s half-open door, rendering his footfalls completely silent. While each of the ten men was a very skilled killer, all were also dim-witted. Even Markovič, though intelligent, was no more than slightly above average. Sherlock knew his appearance would be surprising, but once the first few shots were fired, he would have to act quickly to avoid retaliation. A scant few feet from the door, Sherlock angled his body for the best view of its occupants and what he saw boggled his mind.

Eight men lay sprawled on the floor, face down on the table, or slumped back in chairs. All of them were covered with blood still oozing from pin-point bullet holes in chests, throats, or heads. None of these men had a chance to do more than consider reaching for their own weapons before they dropped. Sherlock analyzed the scene and deduced the events as they had happened while he moved through the room to Markovič’s office.

The door was also ajar. Sherlock pushed it open slowly, already knowing what he would find. Markovič was sat at his desk, leaning back unnaturally in the chair. His eyes were wide open and unseeing as they stared blankly at the ceiling. A hole was perfectly placed in his forehead, creating an isosceles triangle with his eyes. Blood stained his face where it ran down his nose and cheeks, over his throat to soak his shirt. Significant spatter and gray matter decorated the wall behind him in a sickly red glow.

Without delay, Sherlock went to the third door in the meeting room to check bedrooms for the final missing man. Finding him was not difficult. The first door in the hall was the only one open, so Sherlock let himself in cautiously. He found the man on the floor in a pool of blood, bedsheets twisted around one leg, and a pistol held loosely in one hand. He had obviously been only halfway out of bed when the door was kicked open and fired one shot quickly, the evidence of which marred the door frame next to Sherlock’s left shoulder. The intruder had not done more than twitch his head slightly to the side before expertly placing a bullet in the man’s forehead and watching him drop.

*****

Hours later, Sherlock sat at a desk in a safe house across the border in Hungary. He had changed into jeans and a plain t-shirt in dark green. His eyes were fixed on the screen of a laptop as he waited for his brother to accept the call. When the connection was made, it was Anthea’s face that appeared instead of Mycroft’s.

“Sherlock,” she greeted him. She looked tired. Perhaps the last year had weighed heavily on her shoulders as well. “He wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”

“Nor was I,” Sherlock replied dryly. “The assignment did not go as anticipated.”

“But you’re alright? It’s done?” Anthea asked with a touch of concern in her voice. The two of them had become far better acquainted over the course of Sherlock’s assignments and now had a certain rapport.

“Unconditionally,” Sherlock answered and watched as the subtle creases at the corners of her eyes smoothed away, only for them to return when he asked, “how is John?”

Anthea opened her mouth to reply, but Mycroft entered the room before she said a word. He moved to the screen swiftly and sat, studying Sherlock’s face. He was wearing his usual three-piece suit minus the jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up. A haggard expression dominated his features, but a sense of overall relief washed over them at seeing Sherlock in one piece. Mycroft let the indifference that hid whatever modicum of emotion he had slide into place and sat ramrod straight, his typical persona fully recovered.

“You were able to complete the mission,” Mycroft said with only the hint of a question in his tone.

“In a matter of speaking, yes,” Sherlock replied vaguely.

Mycroft cocked an elegant brow and leaned in.

“What do you mean?” He asked with keen interest.

“I found the bodies of all ten men upon entering the warehouse,” Sherlock said simply.

“An opposing faction?” Mycroft speculated, sounding unconvinced.

“No,” Sherlock said flatly, “it was precise and clean. None of the torture and delay seen between these enemies. A single man walked in quietly, just as I did, and murdered them all with one shot each.

“He killed all eight men as he moved through the room, three before they could rise from the table. Markovič was in his office and posed no challenge to dispatch. The last was in a bedroom.”

Mycroft had narrowed his eyes while Sherlock spoke, considering each word carefully. When the detective finished, his brother raised his gaze to regard him in silent contemplation.

“The work of an assassin where there should only be one,” Mycroft muttered.

“Indeed,” Sherlock agreed, “and it had occurred within the hour.”

Mycroft caught Sherlock’s eye and considered him carefully.

“Sherlock,” his tone took on a condescending characteristic that always made the younger roll his eyes, “while the situation is unusual, it is not out of the realm of possibility.”

“Oh, please,” Sherlock began, but Mycroft cut him off quickly.

“You have a mission that cannot be delayed by a… mystery, no matter how intriguing,” Mycroft said snidely. “Need I remind you of its particular importance to you, brother mine?”

Sherlock closed his mouth with a snap and pressed his lips into a thin line. Closer though they may be, Sherlock hated his brother for consistently adopting this air of superiority at a perceived weakness.

“Fine,” Sherlock spat, “but you will find out who it was. If I’m known to this assassin, I want to know his every movement. I will not tolerate interference.”

“Of course, Sherlock,” Mycroft assured him smugly. “I will use every resource at my disposal.”

****

As confident as Mycroft had been, his channels found out nothing about the assassin in the coming weeks. No one was able to determine where the man came from or where he got his information. One thing became abundantly clear, however. He also seemed to be dismantling Moriarty’s criminal organization one piece at a time.

Sherlock completed two assignments over three weeks before encountering the assassin again. The circumstances were much the same as the first time. The target called Romania home and spent most of his time terrorizing every community within a fifty mile radius. He had assisted Moriarty several times over the last decade and had often welcomed the man into his home. If James Moriarty ever had anything even vaguely approaching a friend in his adult life, it would be this man.

Sherlock watched silently from the shadows as his target entered a small room and closed the door, leaving his guard outside in the dimly lit hall. They were inside a massage parlor not far from the man’s home. He spent four nights a week in this place, making rather dubious visits to a certain masseuse. Fortunately for Sherlock, the man’s guard made similar visits to the owner of the shop.

A quiet whistle echoed through the hall twenty minutes after Sherlock’s target entered the masseuse’s room. He watched as the guard looked right, then left, and then disappeared down the hall. Sherlock waited another five minutes to be sure the guard would not return before moving silently toward the door his target had entered. He stood next to it for a moment, his back to the wall, already knowing it was unlocked. He had spent the last seven days watching his target and tracking his movements. Sherlock knew every habit and routine in the man’s life, right down to leaving the door unlocked while he got a massage and a blow job so he could exit quickly if one of his enemies interrupted.

All Sherlock needed to do was open the door and pull the trigger. He had become quite a good markman over the last year and his gun was equipped with a silencer. He wouldn’t miss and no one would hear a thing. The only thing that made him hesitate was the masseuse. He had not yet decided what to do about her. He could kill her along with the target to prevent anyone being alerted by her screams, which were certain to follow her lover’s untimely demise. He could find some quick way to render her unconscious while she and the target were distracted. He could simply shoot his target and run, risking a successful escape. Sherlock was likely to be tortured if caught, a situation he could not afford. He scowled, the words ‘a bit not good’ echoing through his mind. The only option was knocking out the masseuse and hoping no one noticed him before he did it.

Sherlock looked up and down the hall, just as the guard had, and then moved to face the door. He twisted the knob silently with his left hand and pushed it open. The scene before him was nothing like he expected. Instead of finding the two of them fucking on the massage table, the woman was lying on the floor, unconscious and fully clothed. The target was clearly dead on the table, a bullet hole in his temple. Spatter decorated the wall next to the table and Sherlock could hear the quiet drip of blood as it fell from the headrest to the floor. Curious, he entered the room and squatted cautiously next to the woman. He might have risked touching her to find a pulse, but could see it clearly enough on her neck. The assassin had left her alive.

Sherlock’s gaze darted around the room until it came to rest on a small window near the top of the back wall, the only outside wall in the room. It opened on a hinge, a glass pane that lifted up and it was ajar. Several telltale scuffs left by opening and closing it marred the bottom of the pane. The assassin’s entrance and exit point.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stood. The guard would not return for another ten minutes, but the detective could not afford to be seen by anyone. He walked swiftly out the door and closed it behind him, looking up and down the hall again. Seeing no one, but hearing faint footsteps, he crept into the shadows to wait. Sherlock heard a faraway door open and the footsteps fade away slowly. After a few minutes of silence, he left the building and made his way to the next safe house.

A few hours later and a good two hundred miles away from the massage parlor, Sherlock stood in front of a laptop set in the small bedroom of a cozy flat. He had just relayed an account of the evening’s events to his elder brother and moved on to deductions made about the assassin. Mycroft’s less-than-enthusiastic response was quickly grating on Sherlock’s nerves.

“He has a conscience,” Sherlock argued vehemently. “He could have simply killed the woman, but chose not to.”

His brother’s unimpressed face looked back at him from the laptop screen, thoroughly unconvinced. Sherlock wished, just for a moment, that they were in the same room so he could grab Mycroft’s lapels and shake him.

“Very informative, brother mine, but I fail to see how it will help to find this mysterious assassin,” Mycroft intoned dismissively, glancing at his perfectly manicured nails.

“Finding him, no, but it goes a long way in determining what kind of man he is,” Sherlock sneered. “He is not a heartless killer and that tells us quite a bit.”

“Oh, very well,” Mycroft conceded impatiently. “He may not immediately put a bullet in your head should you meet, but will introduce himself first.”

Sherlock sighed loudly and rolled his eyes.

“I will take care of him,” Mycroft continued sternly and it rankled Sherlock. The tone was the same used to scold him as a child. “You concentrate on your assignments and put an end to this dreadful business so you can return to your precious doctor.”

“How is John?” Sherlock found himself saying. It wasn’t what he meant to say, but Mycroft’s words squeezed his chest so completely that saying anything else would have stopped his heart entirely. He hadn’t even been thinking about John and was blindsided by the rush of sentiment, though he tried to keep that hidden. Mycroft, for his part, looked very disconcerted at the slip. His frustration had gotten the better of him, something that happened far more often than he would like to admit since he and Sherlock began “this dreadful business”.

“Sherlock,” he said with a long suffering sigh.

“Don’t patronize me, Mycroft,” Sherlock snapped. “Just tell me what I want to know.”

“He is…unaltered,” Mycroft replied carefully.

“Unaltered?” Sherlock repeated through clenched teeth.

“I said unwell the last time you asked,” Mycroft straightened his spine and looked down his nose at his brother. “You have not returned to Baker Street. Do you imagine he is any different?”

Sherlock glared at his brother, blood boiling, but said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew his brother wanted to infuriate him. It was a distraction. Mycroft did not want to answer questions about John. It was nothing unusual, but affected Sherlock differently this time. Sherlock suddenly felt exhausted and homesick. Every bit of energy left his body. He was sick for John and if his brother didn’t want to talk about John, Sherlock had no desire to pry. He was not prepared to hear that the doctor had teetered ever closer to a crumbling precipice that might give way at any time.

“Fuck off, Mycroft,” Sherlock snarled. He shut the laptop forcefully just as his brother closed his eyes in disdain at the vulgar choice of words.

Sherlock paced furiously. He was restless and frustrated and frightened out of his mind. Dozens of storylines played out in his mind as he took each step. The most disturbing thought ended with John’s broken body on the pavement at Bart’s, the same place they had both been just over a year ago, and it made Sherlock’s heart stutter in his chest. He gasped at the pain and stumbled into the loo to be sick. He splashed water on his face once he could stand again without retching and tried to calm himself, but his chest only felt tighter. He buried his head in his hands and prayed to whatever deity would listen that John Watson be alright.

When Sherlock raised his head again, his movements were stilted and his face remote. He cleaned his teeth and changed into pajamas mechanically, getting into bed and turning out the lights. Staring into the darkness, he parted his lips and breathed slowly. If he didn’t let his thoughts out of his mind, didn’t give them life, his brain and heart would surely burst from his body.

“Wait for me, John,” he whispered into the darkness. “Please.”

****

The next time Sherlock ran into the assassin, the circumstances were quite different. It was three assignments from the last and in Montenegro. The target had not been difficult to finish, but her brother had spotted Sherlock as he made his escape and set off after him. They ran through the compound, ducking this way and that. Every corner the detective turned should have put more distance between the two, but the man behind only grew closer. Sherlock was getting tired and he knew it. On impulse, he ducked into a stairwell and barely tripped as he flew down the steps. He quickly pushed open the heavy wooden door he found there and hurried into an open courtyard full of towering shrubs and fountains. The moon shone brightly, dazzling stars surrounding it, lighting a path of escape. Unfortunately, the man following Sherlock was too close not to make a move for him.

The man dove for the detective and caught him around the waist with his arms. They went down hard, but Sherlock rolled swiftly and struck out at his attacker. They exchanged a few blows before strong hands wrapped around the detective’s throat. Without hesitation, he slid his own arms in-between his attacker’s and wrenched them outward. The other man’s elbows bent, giving Sherlock the leverage to pull his hands away and ram their foreheads together.

At first, only the other man was dazed, so Sherlock shoved him to the side and hopped to his feet. However, the after-effects caught up with him after one or two steps. Suddenly, his head swam and his sense of balance failed completely. Tumbling to his knees, Sherlock tried desperately not to fall any further. He gasped for breath and felt incredibly hot, but resisted the urge to tear the mask from his face. He preferred assignments that did not require a mask, ones where he could maintain a safe distance from targets and their associates. On this particular occasion, his passage through the compound could find him face to face with anyone and he could not be recognized.

Sherlock took a few deep breaths until his vision began to clear. Getting to his feet, he glanced around to check that his attacker had not similarly recovered. He saw nothing as rough hands grabbed his right arm and twisted it behind his back. A cold knife blade touched his throat before he could make any move to free himself. He was trapped. His mind raced, analyzing his options and discarding them; all the while, the blade pressed into his throat, breaking the skin ever so slightly. He nearly jolted at the sound of hoarse laughter in his ear.

“You thought you would get away?” The man holding Sherlock steady chuckled loudly. He pulled the blade more tightly and the detective winced. “You killed my sister, you son of a bitch.”

A gasp filled Sherlock’s lungs, but not for fear of his life as his attacker assumed. It was what he saw in the dark window in one of the tall buildings that lined the courtyard. A sight Sherlock never would have seen, if not for a glint of metal in the moonlight. As soon as he saw that flash of light, his eyes made out the figure of a man with a gun. Standing in the tall window was the assassin, covered in black from head to toe. His face and hair were covered with the usual balaclava. Any other details were lost to the darkness of his clothes and surroundings. His gun was aimed and ready, if the location of the reflection Sherlock had seen was anything to go by.

Sherlock stood very still, not even listening to the rants and threats from the man holding a knife to his throat. One way or another, Sherlock was going to die tonight. If the idiot behind him didn’t do it soon, he would be robbed of the pleasure by the assassin, who would certainly shoot them both. Sherlock could get away from only one of them, not both. He kept his eyes on the assassin as time ticked by and wondered why he hadn’t pulled the trigger twice already. The man couldn’t be weighing his options. It was simple: Aim and fire.

Just as Sherlock thought the word “fire”, a bright flash of light appeared from the assassin’s weapon and Sherlock felt a whoosh of air on his cheek. He expected pain or instant oblivion and got neither. The air around him was suddenly quiet and his mind registered his attacker’s hands going lax. The knife tumbled to the brick floor as the man leaned heavily against the detective’s back. Going down slowly, Sherlock maneuvered the man onto his back and looked at his face. There, between his unseeing eyes, was a perfectly placed bullet hole.

Sherlock’s head shot up to the window to see the assassin, but the man was gone. The pane held nothing but darkness. Without a second thought, the detective gathered himself and stood. It wouldn’t be long before his target’s body was discovered and the compound filled with people who would be happy to kill him. He crept through the courtyard and silently made his way out, encountering no one as he went.

Hours later, ensconced in one of Mycroft’s safe houses, Sherlock booted up the waiting laptop and entered his credentials. His mind was awash with deductions and questions and theories. If nothing else, the evening confirmed the standing deduction that the assassin had a strong moral compass. Quite a bit of additional data had been revealed as well, but Sherlock had not yet sorted through it. He needed to spend some time in his mind palace, arranging the pieces.

The laptop screen caught his eye when his brother’s face came into view. Sherlock had hoped to speak with Anthea first, but had no such luck. He leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of the keyboard, a posture he often adopted when speaking to his brother.

“The assassin was there,” Sherlock stated without preamble. “I beat him to the mark, but he was there.”

“And you know this because?” Mycroft asked with an arched brow.

“I had a knife to my throat and he shot the man holding it,” Sherlock replied without hesitation.

Mycroft’s eyes widened and he leaned in closer to his own laptop.

“He saw you?” He probed with an edge to his voice.

“Not as such. I was wearing a mask. My whole head was covered,” Sherlock answered evenly. “There was nothing to give me away. I was merely a man in distress.”

He could see his brother relax a fraction and then noticed that his eyes were locked on the small bandage Sherlock had fitted to his own neck. The detective furrowed his brow and shook his head dismissively.

“It’s fine,” he told Mycroft in a dull tone. “Superficial. I’ll be able to go without the bandage in the morning.”

“Good,” Mycroft approved, looking more at ease. “That is to say, I am glad you are safe. I must admit, however, I am somewhat troubled by the assassin’s actions. Surely killing you both would have been more to his advantage.”

“Precisely,” Sherlock replied with satisfaction. “It would’ve been easier as well; hitting my attacker with pinpoint accuracy to ensure his demise before he cut my throat requires much more skill than shooting us both. It proves my point.”

“That the assassin has a conscience,” Mycroft supplied in a long-suffering tone. He sighed. “Sherlock, you are a romantic.”

“I most certainly am not!” Sherlock objected, his good mood quashed in the blink of an eye. “I have merely analyzed the data and reached the logical conclusion, as I have in countless other situations.”

He glared at his brother, who returned the look with a smug smile on his face. Sherlock didn’t feel the need to continue the conversation because his pig-headed brother would not relent. He never had before and would not start now. Growing weary of him, Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Tell me about the next assignment,” he demanded, wanting nothing more than to move the call along so he could retreat to his mind palace.

“Yes, of course. Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Mycroft smirked and began debriefing Sherlock on the next target, The detective both listened and imagined how best to have revenge upon his return to London.

****

The following assignment was easily completed in as much as it was finished before Sherlock even arrived. Four days after Montenegro, the detective stealthily entered a caravan dealership that was closed for the day. His target and a small band of men in his employ had taken refuge there, believing no one would find them. After entering the dealership, Sherlock followed music lilting through the air until he reached an extra-long caravan, knowing what he would find before reaching it. While the music played loudly, the absence of all other noise led him to one inevitable conclusion: The assassin had been faster this time.

Five of the six men Sherlock expected lay dead in the caravan’s central room. It occupied more or less the entire vehicle, housing a kitchenette along one side, a narrow couch and table on the other. Two seats and the steering column filled the front of the room, windscreen before them. A small loo cut into the back of the room with closets opposite. In between the two was a narrow hallway that led to a bedroom. Judging by the positions of the men and the angles of the bullets that killed them, the assassin had come from the hallway. He must have climbed in a bedroom window and used the element of surprise.

Sherlock moved cautiously into the bedroom, expecting to find the body of the sixth man, but the room was empty. It was also a mess. A lengthy struggle had clearly taken place in the cramped room and Sherlock could read it all in the broken and overturned furniture. The upper hand had shifted a few times throughout the fight. A stray shot was fired once, twice, and then Sherlock’s eyes came to rest on a piece of bloody glass lying on the floor near a cabinet on the far side of the room. He went to it in three long strides. It was part of a broken mirror that had been affixed to the wall above a waist-height cabinet. One of the two men had grabbed hold of it and stabbed the other, but which was which? Sherlock’s eyes tracked their movements through drips and smears of blood. The injured man eventually broke free and tumbled out the room’s only open window. The other man must have followed because the caravan door would have been left open had he used it.

Gun still at the ready, Sherlock hurried out the door and around to the back of the caravan. He walked silently along the trail of blood and shoe prints. More and more of the sticky, red substance stained the concrete as he went. There wasn’t enough to indicate that the injured man was bleeding out, but was still a troubling amount. Sherlock quickened his pace, anxious to learn which man was injured. He found himself hoping it was not the assassin. It made little sense, but he felt some odd camaraderie with the man. They did seem to have the same goal and were inextricably linked by it.

Sherlock wove his way through the parking lot, around one caravan and another, until he turned a corner and stopped dead. Twenty feet ahead of him, next to a chain link fence, was the body of a man. He was on his back and was obviously dead. Sherlock’s throat went dry and he quickened his pace. He and the assassin had narrowly missed one another for almost three months. They didn’t know the other’s identity and hadn’t even been in the same room together, but had come to expect one another. At least, Sherlock had. He supposed the same might not be true of the assassin, but he liked to think it was, especially after Montenegro. The man had blatantly made the decision not only to save, but also spare Sherlock’s life and the resulting sentiment had softened his heart toward the man. The detective would have considered these feelings a weakness in the past. Now, he saw it in a completely different light. The assassin gave him something familiar to look for, to count on. He couldn’t have John or home, but could at least have something, though it paled in comparison.

Sherlock was jogging by the time he reached the dead man. He couldn’t see his head properly until he stood right next to him. Once he did, Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. The man before him was not wearing a mask of any kind, nor was there one near the body. Instead, he matched the description of one of the six men Sherlock was sent to kill. The assassin had escaped.

Relief quickly turned to trepidation, however, as he got a better look at the dead man. He had no stab wounds on his body and looked to have been killed by blunt-force trauma. Sherlock’s eyes darted around the scene, picking out a heavy metal bar and more blood. He followed a trail of it with his eyes for a short distance. It led to, and passed through, an old opening in the chain link fence. Something had weakened the links and broken through long ago. The assassin must have used it to sneak inside or he would not have known to use it as an escape. Sherlock looked as far beyond the fence as he could see, but saw no body and no large pools of blood. It seemed the assassin had escaped, indeed. But how far had he gotten and how badly was he injured?

When he recounted the night’s events later for Mycroft, Sherlock left out the possible extent of the assassin’s injuries and hid his concern for the man. He knew precious little about the man. It made no sense for Sherlock to feel at all connected to him and yet, here he was. He couldn’t stop himself from viewing the connection as a separate but united force against what was left of Moriarty. As such, not knowing the assassin’s fate unsettled Sherlock in a way he couldn’t explain and he hoped their paths would cross again soon.

****

The next assignment was long and tedious. Sherlock spent nearly three weeks just garnering enough trust through various acts of theft and bullying as assigned by the target’s second in command to even be told the target’s location. He then spent another six days planning out how to neutralize successfully. His frustration grew day by day at having to waste an entire month on this one target, lengthening his time away from John. John, who he knew was struggling. His last few conversations with Anthea were vague at best, but informative enough to know that John’s grief had renewed.

The knowledge slowed Sherlock’s progress with the assignment and he knew it. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He would rather know at least something about John and be distracted than know nothing at all. He dreamt of his friend every night again; comforting him and assuring John he would be home again. He awoke each morning with renewed vigor at having spent the time with John, even if only in his mind. Part of him hoped dreams did the same for John, but they more likely only discouraged him. Sherlock had the advantage of knowing they would meet again, whereas he was dead in John’s world. Sherlock tried to ignore the regret and guilt that ate at him for it.

Motivated by the desire to end his exile and return home to John, Sherlock lost his patience and brought the assignment to an abrupt end. While in the target’s bunker for a debriefing, Sherlock broke into his office and waited. Nearly two hours later, the man and his second opened the door. Sherlock greeted them politely with one bullet each and left as fast as he could.

His work done, after the agonizingly long month, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to move on to the next assignment. He grimaced as he logged onto the secure server he and Mycroft used to communicate, knowing his brother would berate him for his slowness. Maybe Sherlock would get lucky and Anthea would debrief him. He hoped as he pushed enter and waited, then sighed when Mycroft’s smug face came into view.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock murmured in greeting, saying nothing else. Mycroft more than made up for it.

“Good evening, Sherlock. I am glad to see you have finally finished your assignment. I was beginning to think that your target had persuaded you to stay on,” Mycroft’s snide words pushed Sherlock over the edge. The last thread tethering his frustration over the assignment snapped and he nearly swept the laptop off the table.

“Fuck off, Mycroft!” Sherlock shouted. “You know this is not how I wanted it to go. Just tell me about the next assignment and go back to your cake. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your greatest pleasure.”

“Sherlock, has it really come to this?” Mycroft began with an epic eye roll.

“You started it!” Sherlock interrupted. “Just tell me what I want to know.”

“In due time, brother mine,” Mycroft dismissed Sherlock’s anger out of course, “I have come into some information about your mythical assassin.”

“Oh, yes, perfect. Just what I want to know,” Sherlock snarked back, crossing his arms. “Tell me, Mycroft, how many assignments has he completed while I’ve been stuck on just one?”

“On the contrary,” Mycroft said blandly. “It seems both of you have succeeded in doing nothing. I have no indication he has made any movements during the last forty-two days.”

It was then that Sherlock remembered the trail of blood he had followed so long ago and the strange sense of loneliness he had felt. He had mentioned neither to Mycroft after that assignment.

“He was injured,” Sherlock stated almost without thinking, “in that caravan dealership in Skopje. I followed a trail of blood. He must need time to recover.”

“You failed to mention that in the debriefing,” Mycroft answered, his tone rife with skepticism.

“It was not relevant,” Sherlock replied haughtily.

“Wasn’t it?” Mycroft speculated. “Hm. I wonder.”

“Is there a point to this, Mycroft?” Sherlock snapped, growing tired of the conversation. His brother had a certain knack for analyzing his motives at the most inconvenient times.

“Could it have been a more serious injury, brother mine?” Mycroft continued calmly, unfazed by his baby brother’s outburst. “We have no evidence of him at all in the time between today and that night. Could he have been neutralized?”

“Neutral- he’s not our enemy, Mycroft,” Sherlock countered. “He saved my life.”

“Because doing so suited his purpose,” Mycroft supplied, condescension slipping into his tone. “You are very obviously on a path similar to his own. Why would he want that assistance to end?”

Mycroft was right. It was only logical for the assassin to keep Sherlock alive so the man didn’t have to hit every target himself. The detective had allowed sentiment to color his views of the assassin and if Mycroft didn’t know before, he certainly did now. Damn him.

“No,” Sherlock gave a slight shake of his head after a moment of thought, “there wasn’t enough blood for the injury to have been life-threatening. He will appear again. Just give him time.”

Mycroft pressed his lips into a thin line and took a deep breath through his nose. He had more to say, but obviously debated on whether to do it now or save it. Sherlock knew Mycroft had chosen not to wait the moment his lips parted.

“You will have to deal with him one day,” Mycroft said carefully. “The time will come when you are no longer useful to him.”

Sherlock fought not to roll his eyes. As if he hadn’t considered that particular inevitability already.

“I will handle that when the time comes, not before,” Sherlock said flatly.

****

As if on cue, Sherlock found his next target in a private train compartment with a bullet in his head. They were on a train in Hungary. The man’s two most trusted associates were at his side, also shot dead. The assassin was back.

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth curled as he stood in the compartment’s doorway. He gave a subtle salute to the scene, closed the door, and casually walked back to his own compartment. As he went, he was filled with a sense of satisfaction and hope. With his own efforts coupled with those of the assassin, his timetable would change for the better and he could return home to John earlier than expected. Mycroft may have been right about an eventual confrontation between Sherlock and the assassin, but until then they would each enjoy the other’s usefulness without question.

****

Another handful of assignments came and went, Sherlock and the assassin working in tandem, but never encountering one another. Shortly after leaving another scene in which the assassin beat him to the mark, Sherlock calculated their joint progress once again and found that their current rate would see him back in London a full four months early. He was delighted.

A particularly successful month for both of them resulted in another revision of the time required. They had shaved off a few more weeks, much to Sherlock’s satisfaction. That was how, at eighteen months post-Fall, Sherlock found himself in Palermo, Sicily with only two targets remaining before he could return home to London and his life.

------

I know it was a long one, but I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading and for all your support! I've missed you all so much! Tune in next week for chapter 2 and remember, keep your stick on the ice. We're all in this together.

Love, Jane

#johnlock #john watson #sherlockholmes #sherlock #johnlock fanfic #sherlock fanfic

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