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ageofbajabule · 2 months

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Miracle

Alt!Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.8 K

Warnings: Drug use (marijuana, coke), Alcohol consumption, Partying, Oral Sex (F! & M! Receiving) Unprotected Sex, Depression, Abandonment, Lying, Crying, Arguing, Fluff.

Author’s Note: Please note that this is an Alternate Universe! And it is fiction, if any of the warnings are potentially triggering to you then I suggest you move along and avoid this fic. (Also, please note that I would never ever depict any of the guys to be like this. We don’t know who they truly are and again this is simply fanfiction.) This is inspired by Bad Omens song Miracle off of their The Death of Peace of Mind album. Also picture credit to the lovely @holybananafuck she did an absolutely stunning job on bringing Miracle Jake to life🤍

Going to parties wasn’t typically your vibe. However your dorm roommates bribed you into going as it was the first big party since coming back from summer break. You would much rather be at home listening to your favorite bands, or painting your next masterpiece. You had taken it upon yourself to get a degree in Art and Philosophy. In hopes to become an Art teacher or a tattoo artist.

You didn’t need a degree of course to be a tattoo artist, but learning different techniques in art helped your creative mind. You had started an apprenticeship at your favorite tattoo shop. Abby had taken you under her wing to train you, she absolutely loved your portfolio. You had already been teaching yourself since your senior year of high school.

You had purchased a tattooing machine set, an insane amount of ink, needles, and of course tattooable practice skin. Abby had said within the next year you could have all of the training necessary completed before becoming an official tattoo artist for her shop. Getting the degree was a back up plan in case your tattooing career didn’t end up working out for you.

After getting ready, you had finally opted on wearing a red lace bodysuit, paired with black ripped jeans, and your Doc Martens. You grabbed your black and gray flannel as well, putting it on as the early fall was a little chilly. Being satisfied with how you looked, you and your friends left. The party thankfully wasn’t at a frat house, instead at Xavier’s house that his parents left him for the weekend.

You typically hung out with what others would typically say is “alternative people”. And there was nothing wrong with that, you liked the people you surround yourself with. It was a comfortable friend group you had come to know. However tonight there was a new face at this party, one you hadn’t seen before. Yeah you never went to parties, but you still almost knew everyone from going out bowling.

Walking past the mysterious man, you had pulled your friend Maddy to the side.

“Who is he?” You grabbed a cup making yourself a vodka soda.

She giggled softly, “That is Jake… He’s majoring in music I believe. And he’s been trying to get his band going… But other than that, there isn’t much to tell about him. All I’ve heard is that he’s good in bed.” She smirked, making herself a drink.

You weren’t really looking to have a hook up. But he drew you in, and couldn’t put a finger as to why. You nodded, taking a sip from your drink.

“However, I don’t think he’s one to settle down… Guess he likes the party life.” She shrugged.

Maddy ventured off to find her boyfriend while you stood off the side, watching Jake from a distance. He wasn’t that tall, but he was gorgeous. His hair rested just upon his shoulders, a chestnut brown. Tattoos traveling all over his arms, his shirt was a little torn by his chest revealing a chest piece to you. His hands adorned with rings, and his ears gauged, a small hoop in his nostril and an eyebrow ring.

He was your type, but you tried to steer away because most times it didn’t end well for you. But your feet were telling you otherwise and suddenly you were in front of him.

He turned to face you, smiling softly.

One look at your eyes, and I cave in…

“Sorry, Hi. I’m Y/N…” You said shyly, sticking your hand out.

He chuckled softly, shaking your hand. You could feel the calluses on his hands. A guitar player perhaps. “I’m Jake, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I’ve never seen you around before? Are you friends with Xavier?”

He raised an eyebrow to you, “Yeah, good friends actually. Although it's funny, cause I’ve never seen you around before…”

You felt your cheeks warm, “I’m not typically one to party often.”

“A shame, it's nice to see such a pretty girl…” He mumbled, but you caught on.

You blushed, shaking your head lightly, “I’m not pretty. You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it…” He looked up at you with a twinkle in his eyes. He pulled a rolled joint from his flannel front pocket. “Wanna smoke?”

You nodded, as he led the way to the backyard of the noisy house. He sat down in front of the bonfire that was lit, weirdly enough no one was out back. So it was just the two of you. He placed the joint between his lips, bringing a lighter to light the end of it. Once it was lit, he took a couple puffs before handing it over to you.

You smiled softly, saying a thank you to him as you took a couple hits. Coughing slightly, you passed it back to him. “So tell me a bit about yourself.” He spoke with a bit of raspiness to his voice.

“Well, I’m attending university to get a degree in Art and Philosophy. While also doing an apprenticeship at my favorite tattoo shop. I hope to be a tattoo artist, and my sponsor thinks if I keep doing what I’m doing I’ll land a position for myself in no time.” You smiled softly, running your hand along your thighs nervously.

Jake nodded and smiled taking in what you had told him. “That’s amazing. I’ll have to check your work out sometime.” He smiled, taking a drag from the joint.

“So what about you?” You pulled the joint from his hand. He smirked softly.

“Music major, although I’m trying to get a band going with my brothers.” He grinned, shaking his head.

“A band, that’s really cool. Do you guys play often?” You took a drag, starting to feel the effects now.

“We have some gigs lined up to play at bars. Nothing crazy.” He shrugged, taking the joint back, finishing it off.

“You should see us sometime.”

“I’d like that…” You smiled softly.

The rest of the night you and Jake completely hit it off. The two of you had a lot more in common than you thought. And Maddy wasn’t lying when she said he was a party dude. The two of you played pong most of the night and kept winning every game. Eventually the two of you ventured off walking around the streets of the local frat homes as parties were starting to die out.

“Uh, did you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” He asked nervously.

“You don’t have too. I’m sure you want to get back to yours.” You felt your cheeks flush.

“No, I want to make sure you get back safely.” He smiled at you.

“Okay, it's just a couple blocks this way.” You smiled softly as you pointed in the direction.

He made sure to stay on your side, keeping you from stumbling into the street. As the two of you were still a bit drunk from your night out.

After a bit of walking you finally reach your dorm building as he walks with you up to your dorm room. Right outside your door.

“Well this is it.” You smiled at him.

He smiled softly, “Well I’ll leave you to it. It was nice meeting you Y/N.”

“You too Jake. I had fun tonight…”

“Uh, do you want to trade numbers?” His cheeks flushed.

You nodded, handing him your phone, as he switched yours out with his. After putting in your number, he finished putting his in yours.

“I’d like to get together again.” You grinned at him.

“Yeah of course. Have to get you to come see a gig.” He chuckled.

Then he leaned in closely, your breath starting to speed up as your lips touched. His lips are soft, satin and warm. It was a sweet small kiss.

One taste of the life, now I crave it

Then he pulled away, “Fuck. I’m sorry…” He chuckled nervously.

“No! It’s okay…” You blushed. “It would probably be best to leave it at that…”

He nodded, backing away slowly. “I’ll see you around love.” He said in a playful British accent.

After the small goodbye you retreated into your now empty dorm. You figured your roommates would be out for the rest of the evening and return in the late morning. So you decided to text Jake.

You: Thanks for walking me home. I appreciate it. And I’d love to see you play one night.☺️

Jake⚔️: Of course, I wouldn't have let you walk back all by yourself. And definitely! We have one coming up soon.

And that was the last you heard from Jake… You would reach out for the next few weeks hoping to hear back from him. But he completely ignored your messages. Maddy had told you that he probably wanted a hook up and since he didn’t get any he just dropped you.

You heard of him attending parties, and pretty much picking any chick he could find and leaving the party with them not too long after. Maddy had told you, she saw him snorting coke right off some chick's breasts the other night at a party. Making you see red, why were you even remotely upset?

Because you felt the two of you had a connection? But, maybe you had misjudged him.

It was Halloween weekend. All sorts of parties were going on this weekend so you were bound to run into Jake at one of them. You had different costumes to choose from. And the first night out you opted into a slutty nurse. (How original.)

Maddy helped pull your costume together by applying fake blood to it, and making sure your boobs perked out. You had gone for a dark makeup look and grabbed your wristlet. “Tonight, just forget about him! Clearly he’s missing out.” Maddy smiled at you softly.

“Don’t worry, I’m over it.” You lied through your teeth as you spoke. You weren’t over it, you still thought about how soft his lips were. How the two of you connected over music and wrecked ships. He was different to you…

Upon arriving at Xavier's house Maddy had left your side going and found Travis right away as she always did. You rolled your eyes playfully and went to the keg to get yourself a cup. You eyed around seeing if there was any sign of Jake. But alas no luck.

You ventured around, participating in drinking games as well as taking shots as you got further into the party.

Then you heard a familiar laugh, your ears perked up following the sound.

Coming to the outside balcony you see Jake dressed in a pirate costume with his arm wrapped around another girl, as he does a line off the table. You felt your blood boil…

It’s not too late to die for a reason

Jake’s eyes traveled towards you after he hit his line. His eyes widened as they locked with yours. You sucked your teeth nodding at him raising your cup then taking a long sip from it. Walking away from the scene, making way towards the bathroom down the hall.

Hearing footsteps tailing you, you felt your heartbeat grow faster.

“Y/N! Slow down.” Jake yelled for you.

You growled, “Why, Jake! Obviously you have no interest, you haven’t spoken to me in weeks! I’ve reached out and received radio silence.”

Jake groaned, “Things are just complicated.”

“Complicated my ass… You seem pretty fucking occupied with Slutty Nun back there.”

“As opposed to you being a Slutty Nurse?” He chuckled.

“How fucking high are you right now?” You grabbed his jaw looking at him closely.

“Don’t fucking start.” He pushed your hand away from his face.

“What else did you do besides coke? Are you on fucking molly, xanax?” You shook your head.

“What’s it to you?”

“Because Jake, you are trying to make something of yourself and taking this route will just make it worse.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Listen just because you have your life together doesn’t mean I do, or that I have too.” He rubbed his nose.

“Wow Jake…. I thought you were different from others. But you just proved me absolutely wrong.”

“Honey, if you thought you would get something from me… It would’ve been one night and done.” He was standing dangerously close to you now. Smelling the hint of tobacco and teakwood off of him.

“Maybe I should’ve made it worth your while and did something that night.” You bit back.

“Why can’t you do something now?”

You giggled loudly, “After you’ve clearly been with another chick this whole night?”

Fall down on the sword you were swinging

Jake, wrapped his hand around your waist pulling you close. “Come on…”

I wanted to dress a blade up in red, with both of our necks

You melted into his touch pulling him into the bathroom. The alcohol had made you desperate for him. You were so drunk your anger you felt towards him had vanished making you vulnerable to him.

“Tell me you want this…” He held your face in his hands softly.

“I want this…” You pleaded to him, pulling him in for a heated kiss.

He wrapped his hand around your neck pulling your hair with his hand as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Tasting the whiskey on his breath. You melted into him, moaning softly into him, earning a groan from him as he locked the bathroom door.

You tug him closer to you, resulting in him lifting you up to place you on the counter. He pressed you against the mirror, trailing kisses down your neck leaving sloppy wet kisses.

“Jake…” You whined out, feeling the heat between your legs.

Like he knew what you needed, his hand moved to your clothed pussy. Pulling your thong off in a swift action stuffing them into his pants pocket.

“Fucking crying for me, aren’t you sweetheart…” He kissed your lips sloppily and his two fingers collected your slick, feeling how wet you were for him. “God… you’re gonna be the death of me…”

He licked his two fingers, humming contently before getting down to eye level with your cunt. He wrapped his lips around your bundle of nerves making you yelp, as your hands reached down to grip onto his hair.

He starts kneading his hands around your ass, pulling you closer to his face. Shaking his head back and forth like a starved man, lapping you up.

“Oh fuck…” You whine, as your back arches as you lean your head against the mirror.

Jake then slips two fingers, pumping and curling them at a steady pace. Grazing that spot that is ever so sweet inside of you. You felt yourself getting closer.

He pulls away for a brief moment, still pumping his fingers. “Come on angel, give me it. Drown me in it.”

Something inside of you snapped, as he reattached his mouth. He went into a frenzy, continuing to eat you out bringing you down from your high. He lapped up every inch of you, pulling away from your convulsing body, his lips glistening from you.

You pulled him up by his shirt grabbing his face to kiss him roughly, tasting yourself on him. Humming against his lips. He rutted his hips against you, feeling his hard, hot thick self pressing against you.

You pushed him back slightly, hopping off the counter. Pushing him against the counter, going onto your knees you undo his pants pulling them down to his knees, springing his cock free. Throbbing, the tip red and leaking with arousal. Taking your hand you wrap it around him, pumping him slowly, taking your thumb and rolling it over the tip as he shudders beneath you.

“Don’t be a tease baby.” He looked down at you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with lust.

Giving him your best doe eyes you smile softly, licking the tip slowly and languidly before taking him into your mouth. He groans as his head rolls back, as he relaxes against the counter.

Teasing him slowly, by flicking your tongue around his head, then took him far enough for the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat, beginning to bob your head. His hand reached to gather your hair from your face. Letting out a moan against him, causing him to buck his hips causing you to slightly gag but you continued on breathing through your nose.

After a little while of bobbing your head and using your hand to pump the rest of his length. He eventually took control by grabbing your hair. “Just let me know if it gets to be a bit much. Tap on my leg.”

You nodded at him, as he then began to fuck your mouth. Feeling tears spill out the side of your eyes as he kept driving into your mouth, succumbing to his destiny. He was in an absolute haze. “God your mouth is fucking perfect…”

Somehow you managed your breathing to keep yourself from gagging, you hollowed your cheeks out as he kept thrusting. Eventually you felt him twitching, hearing him groan and watching his face contorted in pleasure he finally released down your throat. As you take every last drop of him, making sure to remember his distinct taste.

Jake eventually pulls back, cupping your cheek as he looks down at you. “So fucking beautiful.” He picked you up kissing your lips softly, getting a taste of himself.

The door then rattled as someone was trying to get in.

“Bathrooms occupied!” Jake yelled as you gathered yourself.

“Come on man you’ve been in there forever! Stephanie’s getting all fucking weird dude and asking for you.” A guy yelled back to him.

You looked at Jake as you stood up, adjusting your costume. “I guess you better tend to Slutty Nun…” You scoffed.

“Y/N, don’t do this. We can-“

“No Jake, this. This was obviously a mistake…” You felt your head throbbing. You then exited the bathroom quickly vanishing from the party.

But I wasn’t able, and I wasn’t stable, I guess

Jake’s POV

You felt like you were drowning, planning all these gigs. Trying to maintain your grades, and keeping up with whatever you had going on. The only things that kept you afloat were your music and drugs…

“Jake, come on dude! Get your fucking shit together.” Your youngest brother smacked you on the side of your head.

“Yeah, cause that’s gonna solve all my fucking problems man!” You cracked your neck, standing up slowly.

“You have been late to practice every fucking time we schedule it. And the gigs you’ve been slacking off man. You fucking wanted this, and now you’re throwing it away. What is your problem?” Sam got into your face.

“My problem! You want to know what my fucking problem is!? Its fucking everything. Everything I’ve ever worked for I just fuck up Sam, I don’t have brains like you, Josh or Danny. I just make stupid fucking mistakes and deal with the consequences all on my own. And I’m just a fucking mess.” You pushed him back. Causing Josh and Danny to intervene.

“Yo man, walk it off.” Danny called out.

“No, you know what. Fuck this, and fuck you guys.” You packed your guitar up and left the studio. Driving to god knows where, whichever girl was wanting to fuck you was all you could think about. Of course you thought about Y/N but you pushed her into the back of your mind. All that would be is heartbreak and disappointment.

She didn’t deserve that from you. She needed better and you couldn’t offer that to her, not with your fucked up mentality.

But nevertheless I’m fucking depressed

Another party you were off to. Travis was throwing one this time around, you knew it probably wasn’t best to go considering Y/N would probably be there. But so fucking what. You were so far gone it wouldn’t have mattered. Just as long as you had your bump, booze and a girl by your side.

Throughout the night you kept yourself busy, drowning in your sorrows. Getting a bump whenever you could, and flirting with all the girls that came through. Like you were testing the waters of who would come home with you tonight.

You were so far gone, you could barely stand straight. You ended up sitting on the lounge chair on the deck outside. Lighting up a blunt, smoking it by yourself, while some of your buddies eventually joined you. The four of you bullshitted, then out of nowhere you could hear her. You bit your lip nervously, standing up telling the guys you were just getting another drink.

Making your way into the house, you accidentally bump into her. “Jesus christ!” She yells.

You both look at each other. “Jake…”

“Y/N…”

“I um. Wasn’t expecting you here.” She wrapped her arms close to her chest.

“Don’t worry, I won’t waste your time darling. Going to get myself a drink and maybe another bump or a fuck.” The drugs and alcohol were taking over.

“Real classy Jake. Don’t you think it's time you grew up?” She scoffed.

“I’m grown baby, what’s the harm in having fun?” You smirked.

“Getting fucking high on god knows what and drunk every night is not having fun Jake. You bailed on your last gig.”

“Keeping tabs on me now?” You looked at her with wide eyes.

“Not keeping tabs, Josh asked me to come out. We are lab partners, you know.” She rolled her eyes.

“Look I don’t give a shit. You’re not shit…”

You watched her face get red as her eyes welled up with tears. “Jake I honestly wish you the absolute fucking worst. You are so fucked up… What is wrong with you? How can you think this is okay?” She was starting to get loud with you.

“I’ve been fucked up, you didn’t notice from day one. Haven’t you heard the stories? I’m a fucking mess baby… And no one is ever going to change that. I’m not going to give you what you’re looking for… I don’t do relationships. So stop fucking trying to fix me.” You yelled into her face. Causing her to cower back and she began to sob quietly to herself excusing herself from you.

You punched the wall beside you, screaming to yourself. How much more of a fuck up can you be…

So you stormed off and found some passable looking chick that was down to just fuck. You didn’t care you needed to blow off steam. Get your mind off things, off of her. And this was the way you went about it.

I hide it with sex, and drink till it's fatal

It’s so fucking painful

It’s a mess

The next few weeks you just drown your sorrows with booze, drugs and any chick that was down for whatever with you. Eventually Josh was fed up with you fucking your life up. Waking up with the worst hangover ever. Josh came barging into your room.

“Alright man, I’ve been letting shit slide for too fucking long. You need to sober up. This isn’t fucking you man. What has got you all fucked up?”

Your head was pounding as you adjusted to the real world. “She’s got me fucked up… She’s so.”

“She’s got you fucked up? You got her fucked up!” He was angry. “She called me last night fucking crying, I could barely understand a word out of her. Do you like fucking up the good ones Jake?”

“Of course not!” You felt yourself getting angry, not at your twin. At yourself.

“Then what the fuck is your deal?”

“I need help man… I need something…”

So give me something beautiful

So give me something else

“Jake… you have to want to help yourself… I can’t just.” He sighed.

“I can’t lose her.” You choked out.

“I honestly think that was the last straw…”

“Josh. Please, I need to get better. For us, the band. For her.” You were crying now.

“Well, what did you think was going to happen acting like that?” He sighed sitting beside you.

“I think I love her. But I just, I’m scared. Is that how it’s supposed to be? Am I supposed to be scared of this feeling…”

“Brother… I think you are scared from something actually working out for once. She is… She is exactly what you want in someone. And, man- you need to get your act together.” He rubbed your shoulder.

“So help me…”

I need another miracle

I really need some help, I need a miracle

Her POV

Spring semester had started, you were focused on your apprenticeship. Excelling in it, just as you suspected. You had grown close with Josh, becoming quite close even with the hurt Jake had put you through. Josh had apologized for his brother's actions even though it had nothing to do with it. As Jake was his own person and could own up to his own actions.

“Just come to our show Saturday.” Josh smiled softly, paying for your guys’ coffee.

“Josh… I don’t know.” You sighed quietly.

“I swear on my life. It will be worth it. And Jake… He. He’s better.” He beamed.

You looked at him with a serious look, but there was hope in his eyes. Hope that you would go, in not just support of him but the rest of them.

“Fine. But if Jake does some fucked shit, I’m a goner.” You had a serious tone, grabbing your coffee as it was called.

“I promise, he’ll be on his best behavior.” He smiled softly. “And besides, I want you to meet this guy I’ve been seeing… His name is Ethan. And I want to know what you think of him.” He blushed talking about this new guy to you.

“Okay, well now you just have to fill me in on everything!” You giggled softly as the two of you went on your daily walk.

Who’s left when we’re all for the taking?

Saturday came, you had opted to wear jeans and a t-shirt for the gig they were playing at the local bar. You didn’t want to wear anything flashy as you were going in support of your friends' band.

When arriving at the bar, you decided to start a tab getting yourself a Tequila Soda. You opted to sit at the bar with the perfect view of the stage. Seeing Danny and Sam finishing up on setting the stage up. While noticing Josh out of the corner of your eye, you waved to him with him waving back.

In a couple of minutes the guys hit the stage, as you watched them step onto the stage. You felt your heart start to beat quickly when you noticed Jake had actually made it. You drank the rest of your drink asking the bartender for another, as the guys started out their show.

Throughout their set, you paid close attention to Jake and how he played. You haven’t been able to see them just yet so you were mesmerized by his skills. You knew Josh had a beautiful voice from the times you’ve hung out. But you didn’t know Jake was amazingly talented.

Although in the back of your head all you could picture was how he had treated you. And how fucked up he was the last time you saw him, it had you wondering if he had gotten his act together. Or if he was still the same old prick you were facing the last two times.

No lives left to bet on obeying

Once their hour long set was finished, Josh had rushed over to you embracing you into a hug. “I’m so glad you came! What did you think?” He pulled back, raising an eyebrow.

“You guys are amazing! You didn’t tell me the talent you all had!” You playfully punched his arm.

“Jake has. Something’s changed, and honestly I think it makes us sound better.” He smiled softly.

You gave a hurt smile, that you knew he wouldn’t pick up on. And order the two of you a drink. “So where is this lovely Ethan?”

“He should be coming back soon, he went to the bathroom before I came over here.” He smiled while taking his drink you got him.

“Over here!” Josh flagged him down to join you two.

“Sorry, it was crowded as fuck over there.” Ethan giggled softly, embracing you into a hug. “I’m Ethan, you must be Y/N! Josh always talks about you.”

“The one and only. Best lab partner ever! But also the bestest friend.” You smiled softly. You were happy to see Josh glow with him, yet you felt a pang as you were missing out on something like that.

For the next hour you learned a lot about Ethan and came to find that he was going to school for film. Which was one of the many reasons Josh was so interested in him. Ethan had even offered to be one of your clients for when you can start tattooing on actual clientele which would be relatively soon.

Suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulder, looking over to see it’s Jake. You took a deep breath smiling softly.

“Hey… Is it okay if we, uh. Talk?” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Sure…” You stood up from the bar stool telling Josh and Ethan you would be back.

What are we calling it?

You felt your nerves practically shaking. You were scared, excited, and had all these emotions going at the same time. The two of you decided to step by the one area that wasn’t as crowded in the building.

“So um.” He started nervously.

“Before we continue I just want to make sure… You’re sober right?” You felt bad for asking, but wanted to make sure this wasn’t going to be another bad evening.

“I’ve cut out the hard drugs… I’m just smoking and drinking now. But I’ve barely had anything tonight.” He looked at you with honesty in his eyes.

“Okay… go on.”

“Look, I know I haven’t been the best person out there… And I know I’ve completely avoided you, abandoned you and was overall and outright dick to you. And that wasn’t fair to you…” He took a deep breath.

What does it cost?

“I was just… In over my head, when you found me. I didn’t know how to handle myself, or what to feel or how to feel. I’ve been broken for a very long time. And I just…. I love you to death-” He looked at you before you cut him off.

“But I’m drowning…” You sighed softly, looking into his sad eyes.

He tilted his head with tears threatening his eyes, stepping closer to you. He grabbed your hands, lifting them into his.

What are we calling it?

What does it cost?

“Jake you… You have put me through so much… And-“

Suddenly his lips crashed into yours pulling you closely to him. As you kissed him back passionately cupping his cheeks with your hands, as his wrap around your waist.

So give me something beautiful

The two of you separated from one another slowly, taking a breath. As you steady yourselves, looking at one another.

“You have to mean it Jake… You can’t just throw love around-“

“I do mean it! I- I’ve been cleaning my act up since. Josh practically knocked sense into me… I just. I’m stubborn and a fucking handful.” He gave a sly smile as he chuckled. “I just… ever since. Fuck I don’t even want to speak of her really. I just never believed I could love again… yet here you are.”

“Like I’m some sort of miracle…” You giggled softly looking at him.

He shook his head, smiling softly. “Yeah… like a miracle. Come on… Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed your hand.

“Wait! I have to tell Josh.” You looked at him with pleading eyes.

“Fine, I don’t want him thinking I scared you off again.”

The two of you walked back to the bar together standing beside Josh. “Hey, we’re gonna leave. Everything’s alright.” You whispered to him, smiling softly. “Now you have a fun evening with Ethan, and it was so lovely meeting you!” You hugged the both of them before closing your tab out and leaving the bar with Jake.

“You and Josh must’ve gotten really close, huh?” He smiled softly, walking you to his car.

“Yeah, we have. He’s honestly one of my best friends now…” You smiled softly as Jake opened the door for you to get into his car. Getting into his car you put your seatbelt as he gets around to the other side.

The drive back to the apartment he and his brother shared wasn’t too far from the bar. And surprisingly wasn’t too far from your dorm room either. The campus had everything relatively close to one another, which was a nice advantage.

After Jake parked his car, he got out helping you out of his car. The two of you walked up two flights of stairs before coming to the door of his apartment.

“I apologize if it's a mess… Partially my fault. But we’re managing.” He chuckled, taking his shoes off, as you did the same.

“It’s fine really. At least you have your own place. I stay in a shitty dorm.” You giggled softly.

“So…”

“Well, you have me here. All alone…” Speaking in a sultry tone.

“That I do…” He smiled pulling you close to him and he pecked your lips softly. Before pulling you in for a deeper, heated kiss.

You reciprocated back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he hoisted you up carrying you to his room. Giggling against his lips softly, he placed kisses against your jawline. As he got into his room he shut the door laying you on the bed softly.

He trailed kisses down your neck, as your hands played with his hair. You felt a flood of arousal to your panties, his hands went underneath your shirt, toying with your bra as he unhooked it, removing it while pulling your shirt off as you assisted him.

“You’re so beautiful…” He smiled, capturing your lips again, while using his one hand to massage your breast while the other toyed with your nipple. Eliciting a whine from you. That same nipple he latched his mouth, licking and nibbling at your hardened nipple.

“Fuck, Jake…” You left out a quiet moan.

“Don’t be shy baby, it’s just us…” He smiled softly, encouraging you.

Tugging his shirt off, you can see his bulge through his tight black jeans. Just wanting to be set free, you started to undo his buckle to help make the process quicker. After a little bit of back and forth shared kisses the two of you were finally completely bare in front of one another. You blushed as you covered yourself up slightly with his comforter.

“Baby…” He tilted his hand crawling over to you. “S’just me… You want to treat that pretty pussy nice?” He smiled softly, lowering himself as he peppered kisses along your stomach.

You nodded as a whimper escaped your lips. “Treat it real nice…”

He smiled softly, kissing the inside of your thighs leaving marks behind. Once he nestled himself, he licked a slow stripe causing you to shudder. After his first taste back he hummed, “I’ll never get over this…” Attaching his lips to your bundle of nerves, he continues to lick and flick his tongue. Earning nothing but profanities and cries of his name.

He then moved down a little to nestle his nose right against your clit as his tongue was prodding your entrance. He continued to fuck you with his tongue as he shook his head back and forth causing you to get closer to your orgasm. You felt your legs start to wrap his head, but he used his hands to hold them as he kept lapping at you.

“Oh, god. I’m…” You tilted your head back as your orgasm rippled through you. Your legs began to shake, as Jake licked every drop he could get. Before coming up and kissing your lips softly.

“I could get used to that…” You giggled softly, caressing his cheek.

“I’ll do it whenever you want, however you want, angel…” His cheeks were pink as he smiled at you. He went to the night stand to grab a condom.

“Wait.”

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow, “What’s the matter?”

“I’m on the pill, and I’d much rather… Feel all of you.” You blushed.

He smiled, retreating back, and looking at you. “You’re positive you want to do it without it?”

“Unless you’re not telling me something?”

“I’m as clean as I can be.” He chuckled softly, “I’m always prepared.” He lined himself up with you, tapping his cock against your sensitive clit before pushing into you.

You placed your hands on his arms as he slowly dragged his cock into you. Letting you adjust to him, feeling the slight burn from the stretch. After a little his thrusts became a steady pace to help ease you. You could feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, earning a moan from you.

“You feel like heaven…” He groaned as he brought his head down to kiss your lips softly. You groaned against his lips as his pace picked up. You wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him in closer as his hips snapped with purpose.

“Fuck” You moaned out again, as his mouth moved to suck on your tit licking and bitting at the nipple. His thrusts became more harsh as he fucked you harder, hearing you skin meeting one another as it bounced off the walls.

Jake eventually pulled back, to watch where you two connected, watching as he fits perfectly with you. He slowed down to do long languid thrusts watching you fall apart on him. He spits directly onto your pussy, taking his thumb rubbing circles causing you to go into your second orgasm of the night.

After letting you come down, he then pulls out earning a whine from you, as he smiles softly. “Come on baby… I want to watch you.” He sat against his headboard, while you straddled his lap taking him to line yourself up before sinking down onto him.

The two of you make an audible groan from the feeling, his hands placed firmly on your hips, kneading into your skin as you start to ride him making figure eights with your hips. Placing your hands on his tattooed covered chest. You could see the finer details of the work he’s had done.

Jake sneaked his one hand up to your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. Eliciting a whine from you, causing you to bounce on his cock.

“That’s it angel… Just like that.”

He lifted his legs slightly to start thrusting up into you. So as you would come back down, he would hit that right spot inside of you.

“Can you give me one more?” He kept thrusting into you, as he groaned nearing his.

“I- I don’t know…” You felt your legs growing weaker.

“Yeah you can. Come on…” He encouraged you, holding you flush against his chest as he started fucking into you. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he rocked into you. Your clit was brushing against his pubic hair just right, bringing you to the brink of your last orgasm he was able to rip through you.

“That’s my girl…”

His girl, you pulsed around his cock as you rode your orgasm out. He wasn’t too far behind as you could feel him twitching.

“Where, baby?” His breathing was labored.

“Inside…” You looked into his eyes, both of you completely fucked out.

His eyes rolled back as one final snap of his hips, he stilled inside of you filling you up making you more full then you were. He rested his head against your chest, kissing it softly.

Lifting his face with your hands you kissed his lips softly. And he responded back with an even deeper kiss.

“I love you…” You mumbled against his lips.

“I love you.” He murmured, smiling against your lips. He pulled away slowly looking into your eyes. “Thank you… for being patient with me. And giving me a proper chance.”

“Thank you, for being honest… It means more than you’ll ever know.”

“I’ll be honest for the rest of my life. I’ll never hurt you ever again.” He rested his head against yours.

“My little miracle…”

Taglist-

@ignite-my-fire @sinsofstardust @char289 @gretasfallingsky @thecoldwind @holybananafuck @thunderstomp-and-tequila @myleftsock @hi-hi-hello11 @brujamagik @fkfearandliveyourlegend @itsafullmoon @wagnerbrainrot @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van smut #jake kiszka #gvf smut #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x y/n #greta van fleet smut #gvf fic #jake gvf smut #jake gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #jake greta van fleet #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fic

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jellogram · 27 days

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How I Landed Professional Writing Gigs (from scratch)

Okay so I am currently a full-time writer for a travel company but this was absolutely not my first writing endeavor so I thought it would be helpful to write out some things that I wish I had known.

I write non-fiction/marketing/journalism-oriented work, but there's some overlap with fiction publishing. However, you should understand that making a living solely from fiction is significantly harder than this.

So here is what I did:

1. Write as much as you can.

This seems obvious, because you need to practice, but it's more than that. You NEED to be creating work to fill out your portfolio. Write everything. Write essays about things you like, write short stories, write social media captions, interview whoever responds to your emails and write about that, just write write write as much as you can. With as much variety as you can. Writing ad copy in different styles is going to be a big one.

2. Compile all of this into a portfolio.

There are many ways to do this, but you need a) a digital folder that you can submit on forms and attach in emails and b) a website with all of your work that you can link with one URL. You can make a website with something like wordpress or you can just use substack or medium.

In your portfolio, include all of your best work. This will likely be pretty unimpressive at first, and mostly school papers and passion pieces, but it's a start. You just need to get something together, because when you start applying, you will often need a portfolio to even complete the submissions.

Now, this is crucial, do not publish all your creative pieces. If you have a poem or a short story that is particularly good, you can add it to your digital folder, but DO NOT PUBLISH IT on a publicly accessible site. You'll see why below.

3. Apply to literally everything.

Now you are ready to start looking for gigs. These will, almost certainly, be unpaid at first. Obviously this sucks, but it also doesn't have to ruin your life. If you're in a position to take a whole unpaid internship, that will definitely help, but there's other options.

Your new best friend is Submittable. This is how I got my first fiction piece published. Submit to e v e r y t h i n g. Paid, unpaid, whatever you can find. If you have a piece of creative writing that you truly think is publishable, you grind on Submittable for hours after work/school, sending it off to every publishing call that's even vaguely related.

This is why you can't publish your best work on your own site — nearly all of these listings require first publishing rights, meaning you keep ownership of your piece, but they don't want it if the public has been able to access it already. Once your piece is published on their site, you can add it to yours.

4. Keep track of where you've been published and put that list in your bio from now on.

You are nothing but the places where you have been published, which is why it's vital to gather as many credits as possible.

5. You can also get gigs on Upwork.

This is a great way to gain more experience working for a client and hopefully getting a few publishing credits. This is technically paid work, but you're not likely to make more than a few bucks. Send bids for the lowest paying, least popular gigs. Just chat with the client back and forth a bit to make sure they're legit.

This kind of work SUCKS, but it can help you beef up your portfolio and get more credits. It will also teach you, unequivocally, if writing is really want you want to do for a living. If you hate dealing with client requests and doing grunt work and being told what to write, you're probably going the wrong direction and you'll learn that quickly from Upwork.

6. Once you have an OK portfolio/list of credits, start looking for more consistent work.

Technically you can start doing this at any time, but you're unlikely to land anything consistent until you have a few credits and some solid experience.

This type of work is usually paid. By this point, if you've gathered up enough credits, you should be beyond unpaid internships. That doesn't mean it won't be difficult to find work. Getting a job always sucks and this is no different, you're just better primed for it now than you were before the previous steps.

I found all my consistent jobs on Indeed. There's basically two kinds of work at this stage: contracted and salaried. I've done both.

Contracted work basically means you have an agency. They work with companies who are hiring out copywriting agencies for whatever writing they need. This kind of work is nice because you have a lot more control and flexibility in your daily life. However, you are at the will of your agency. If they don't give you any jobs that month, you're out of luck. Unless your particular agency is very very consistent, this is most likely more supplemental income than primary income, especially if you live in a place that taxes the living hell out of contracted workers.

There's also independent contractors, but I strongly advise against trying to make that work unless you already have years of experience in the field.

Salaried work is a JOB job. You might still have some flexibility, but your daily hours and workload will be out of your control. I started with the contracted work and moved to a full time job, and while I definitely prefer the lifestyle of contracted work, I would not trade the comfort of regular paychecks. Up to you.

7. If you can't find a regular job, start branching out your skills.

If you have been hitting every job board and publishing outlet you can find, you have credits, your portfolio is excellent, and you STILL can't find a consistent job, you might want to start adding semi-related skills to your resume.

Fortunately, you can do this (for free) online. It's time consuming, which sucks if you're already doing all of this while maintaining another job. But it can make or break your chances.

I looked at what all the writing-related jobs on Indeed were requesting as skills, and started learning them. I used Hubspot, Google Analytics Academy, and Coursera, because they give you certificates upon course completion that you can add to your resume. Codecademy is also really quick and easy for coding.

All of these are available for free, but with Coursera you have to apply for a scholarship for each course if you'd like to take it without paying.

In this process, I learned:

SEO

HTML5

CSS

Social media and email marketing

WordPress

Google Analytics

Obviously this list will vary depending on what type of writing gig you're looking for, but if you're in the market for advertising or blog work, I think SEO, html, and Google Analytics are good places to start.

Graphic design is also a super useful skill that will go a long way towards setting you apart from other candidates. Specifically Adobe, but even a little Canva experience can help.

Once you've acquired these skills, try to make something with them. Build a small website or collect a graphic design portfolio. The more skills and experience you can show off, the better.

And that's it! I'm sure some of you will read this and scream "But OP, I did that and it didn't work!" and I'm sorry. This is what worked for me, so that's all I can really offer.

Good luck out there!

#this was like a year of my life lmao #remember when I was horrifically depressed a few years ago living with my parents #this was how I got out of there #writing #publishing

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rezdragon · 10 months

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Hm, how about a project update (August 4, 2023)

The Disaster Archives Since I finally finished Normal, now I can invest all of my TDA time into Everyday, which is TDA’s next story. I’m still working on Rez’s route, but TDA is currently taking a backseat while I focus on other projects, which I’ll talk about below. You could definitely say that it’s currently in the pre-production phase and I’m going to be spending way more time in pre-production this time. Zero promises when it will be out. I want to say 2024, but even that I feel isn’t totally accurate. It depends on a lot of factors as to when I will finish it.

Behind the Scenes Video for Normal I took a break from working on anything for almost two weeks and then started making an album instead (more on that below). In the middle of that, I thought “Oh, I better work on the behind the scenes video.” because I nearly forgot about it (depression). I’ve gotten about 7 minutes into it so far, I’m starting to run out of behind the scenes footage heh.

New Album - State of Agony A new album has been rumbling inside of me since early July and I’m finally getting it out, this is what I’m working on currently. It’s called State of Agony, but I’m taking my time working on it. I probably won’t release it until September. I’m trying to make real sounding music on it, but hey, dark ambience stuff slipped in there anyways. I promise, I’m actually trying really hard to NOT make this an overly long monster like AloneSea was. There’s one track that I finished this week that I think I’m gonna share after I make this post (at least here on tumblr, elsewhere will have to wait).

Fine Art Shows YES! This is what I’ve been working on since literally May of this year, but your creature Rez is working on showing in Fine Art shows! I’ve entered into a show in Spokane, Washington called Terrain. I’ve been waiting for an acceptance letter which is suppose to come next week! If I get into Terrain, I’ll be busy with getting that set up and ready to go. I’ve got a table that I have to destroy. It’ll uh... it’ll make sense when I finish the piece, you’ll see, I’ll post about it. I’m also working on getting into another gallery in Spokane with an art group I’m in. If you’re wondering what medium it is, it’s SOUND! I’m known as the sound artist of the group!

Ghost Stories of North Idaho I want to come back to this project, would love to get it out in time for Halloween. I think I needed some space away from the stories before I give them a second look over. I know I keep threatening to work on this, but I think I will legit come back to this once I finish tinkering with my album.

Short Film Writing has stalled pretty badly on this, and I’m getting tempted to start over because I’m having a lot of trouble writing the conclusion. I really wanted this out in time for Terrain, but I just could not get the writing to work with me, and I didn’t want to submit sloppy work. There’s always next year, but I was a little disappointed in myself that I couldn’t submit a film (has to be a film I can legally sell, so machinima is a no-go).

Orintheous’ Revenge I posted about this awhile ago, but I’ve been wanting to focus on more original content that I can sell, and the fine arts galleries and shows is why. I’m trying really hard to get my name out there (believe me, I’m pestering public radio), and I’m beefing up my portfolio as well. So unfortunately, I haven’t had a lot of time to focus on OR, but I will come back to it someday, that story is too good for me to ignore (although I should really spend a day writing out the series bible before it all leaves my brain, having been forced out by TDA).

The Trickster It’s been shelved for the time being, for the same reasons as OR, but I will ABSOLUTELY come back to it someday, I have wild ideas for it and I want to use them.

#updates

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ishtrust · 2 years

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Review of cleanmymac x

REVIEW OF CLEANMYMAC X PC

REVIEW OF CLEANMYMAC X LICENSE

REVIEW OF CLEANMYMAC X FREE

The "Protection" section scans the system for malware in programs or files. Users always have the option of viewing the files before deleting them to prevent important data from being lost. Duplicate mail attachments and the recycle bin can also be deleted here with one click.

REVIEW OF CLEANMYMAC X FREE

The Cleanup section optimizes the system for better performance and at the same time is intended to create free memory space by removing temporary data and defective objects that can cause errors in the system.

Manage built-in widgets, plug-ins, and preferences.

Clean service files from your removable devices.

Empty Trash and get rid of app leftovers.

Delete unnecessary language files from your Mac system and apps.

Remove the universal binaries that are unnecessary for your Mac.

Clear caches created by your system and applications.

CleanMyMac X can be divided into five categories, which appear on the left side of the program interface and offer you different possibilities: Both programs basically work like this: they are supposed to detect and delete old data garbage, free up memory, speed up system speed, detect large files and delete unused programs. But manufacturer MacPaw also has the Windows counterpart called CleanMyPC in its portfolio. I'm using CleanMyMac X for macOS, currently under macOS Catalina 10.15.2. Because the program is also available for Windows.

REVIEW OF CLEANMYMAC X PC

Now let me explain how CleanMyMac X can solve your PC and Mac problems. Meanwhile, I now have a "lifetime license" on my computer, which costs about €90.

REVIEW OF CLEANMYMAC X LICENSE

CleanMyMac X comes with a lot of toolsĪt that time I invested €36 in an annual license and I still have no regrets. So with a little research online I quickly found a program that should not only solve all my problems, but also bring other useful features to my "old" working machine: CleanMyMac X. Tidying up the hard disk, uninstalling programs and a new installation could have solved my issues, but I simply didn't want the effort. Programs took just as much time to get ready for operation, and the forced shutdown via the power button became almost a daily routine at some point. Despite or even because of always up-to-date operating systems, the boot process took longer and longer. In 2019, the hardware nevertheless began with nerve-racking quirks. The good piece also allowed for retrofitting, so I bought a few RAM sticks for a lot of money and was able to work well with a total of 24GB. I was able to render large 4K videos without any problems, open multiple browser windows and countless tabs with sophisticated web pages, and at the same time edit article images using Photoshop without any noticeable problems. My old iMac 27" (Late 2015) had worked quite well until last year. But as soon as the first programs are installed and the hard disk is strained, the piece of technology starts to become lame over time. Everything runs fast, programs open quickly, and the CPU temperature is kept at a comfortable level.

#Review of cleanmymac x

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fatal-error-blog · 2 years

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Happy 6th Birthday, Fatal_Error!

Fortunately for him, I've had my hands full with other blog-related projects and tasks, so he gets to enjoy a quiet birthday this year. I hope everyone has been doing well! It's still been pretty quiet on the blog, which isn't awesome, but I've been working on some updates that should hopefully be ready to go out soon, which is awesome! As always I really appreciate everyone's patience with me and I'm just so jazzed to show ya'll what's coming up next. So for Fatal's 6th birthday, I thought it might be interesting to some to share 6 things that have been going on behind the scenes: 1) I FINALLY got a new job! In past posts I've mentioned having to take breaks/step away from the blog quite often in pursuit of job hunting and just general adulting. For those who aren't aware (or maybe are new here - if so, howdy!) I'm not a fulltime comic artist, and I don't rely on this blog or comic as any kind of primary source of income. So I've had to put a lot of energy and time into working on portfolio pieces that aren't just Fatal_Error (although he's in my portfolio, gotta represent!), putting in job applications, going to interviews (if lucky enough to get one), all of which takes a pretty tremendous mental strain and a lot of focus. And I've been at it for...like more than 2 years, lol. But I've finally gotten a new job, I start Monday, and I'm stoked! I'm going to have a lot more freetime to dedicate back into the comic and I couldn't be happier, because things in my opinion are about to get good. 2) The second volume of the graphic novel is almost ready for preorder! At this point I'm wrapping up the bonus comic (that those who get the second volume will see first, and will be posted online for free soon after), finishing up resizing some stuff, and just finalising the bonus preorder item and some items I want to release at the same time (like how I did with the stickers and poster last time). I'm aiming to open preorders in like, mid April. 3) In needing to plan ahead for future volumes, I have definitively figured out that there will be NINE chapters of the story in total, meaning that as soon as Chapter Five is done it's all downhill from there! We're almost at the finish line for the story!! 4) For those interested, I've been working on some Etsy shop updates with FE related items, because I haven't really added anything new in a while. Ideally it'd be nice to have them ready around the time that volume two is available but we'll see! 5) The Bluescreen Event is almost here! I've mentioned this before but Bluescreen is a side comic that I've always wanted to release as quick daily or every-other-day updates for as long as the side comic goes on for. This unfortunately requires me to have all the updates ready to go, otherwise I risk running out of updates before I can catch up. But I'm excited that it's almost ready! It's one of my favorite side comics and I think ya'll will enjoy it too. More on that later! 6) This summer (Summer 2022) I want to finally wrap up what had been started for Fatal's 5th birthday. So stay tuned ;) And that's all for now! I'm gonna keep working so I'll be able to update the story as soon as possible. Have a great day, folks!

#xed has something to say #fatal error birthday #6th birthday #fatal error #bluescreen #xedra art

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yeojaa · 4 years

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( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

The Nanny Pt. 3

Lee Bodecker x Nanny!F!Reader

18+

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: alcohol/drinking, food, corrupt cop, mentions of prostitution/smut, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, mentions of serial killers/murder, mutual pining,

Summary:

Based on this Request: The reader moves to Meade/Knockemstiff while answering an advertisement for a nanny in the paper. We learn that the ad was posted by Sandy, who has the reader watch her child whenever she and Carl leave to do their secret thing. After one of these trips, Sandy and her husband never return, so the reader is left caring for their baby. With the new investigation into these events, she meets Sandy’s brother Lee, the older, out of shape, alcoholic bachelor, and they are suddenly thrown into each others lives as he begins looking into his sister’s disappearance. Through it all, Lee starts to fall for her, and they slowly become a family.

A/N: I got inspired re-watching one of my favorite shows and I want to know if anyone else gets the reference I’m using! If I missed anything I should include as a warning that I missed please let me know! This is also unedited!

Taglist Form is in my bio!

Series Masterlist

Your shoulders tensed listening to the radio in the morning. Sitting on your ottoman, you were painting your nails, using the coffee table as your nail station. It was a really bright morning, and you had the curtains pulled open to draw in light. Julie frantically rushed between her room and the bathroom getting ready for her shift at the diner. The newest single from The Beach Boys was playing through the little counter top radio, but at the top of the hour, the melodies playing through the speaker changed to the news. The top story of the morning was chilling.

“Jules,” you said, calling her over hesitantly, putting the cap back on the bottle of polish. “Come listen to this.”

She scurried out of her room while working to tie her apron in the back, and then she stood next to where you sat to listen to the story on the news. The color drained from her face as you both listened to the reporter describe the horrific scene that was under investigation early this morning.

Roy Laferty was an evangelical preacher whose body washed up by the lake very early that same morning. The news report talked about the police investigation, and also disclosed his wife Helen, is also reported missing. They are looking into the disappearance of Helen, as well as opening a full investigation on Laferty’s murder. They also urge individuals with any information regarding the two to call the Sheriff’s department and to provide a statement.

“That’s horrifying,” you mumble, shocked as you try to process the news. Julie nods in agreement but strangely doesn’t seem nearly as affected by the news as you.

“It’s happening again,” she mutters, obviously concerned but her lack of surprise worries you.

“What do you mean again?” you ask.

“There was a string of unexplained murders, all men, like this newest one,” Julie explained, “This was all over the news like two years ago- can’t believe you hadn’t heard about it.” All you could do was shrug; this was all new to you. “Obviously, there was nothing linking their deaths, but there were these five killings a couple of years ago that are still unsolved. There’s no evidence, but the town rumors it was like a serial killer or something. Nothing is confirmed, of course, just a story.”

“What makes people think it was all the same person?” you ask, hesitantly.

“All the people were always the same type,” she shrugs, “Men all in their 20s and 30s. Again, there’s nothing linking them all together. It’s just talk.”

You clicked off the radio, and didn’t know what to do with yourself. Julie patted your shoulder, comfortingly but she had to go on with her day. So did you, and you almost her ability to move about the apartment almost unfazed by the news. You suppose it makes sense, her growing up here she’s probably used to it. You didn’t have the experience or the thick skin she had.

You had decided to go to the library, still preoccupied by the news segment as well as the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff. You spent the better half of the morning looking at the library’s archives of old newspapers. You wanted to read more about the unsolved cases Julie had told you about, so there you sat for several hours looking through the microfilm reader. You even stumbled upon articles that featured the Sheriff.

There he was plain as day on the front page when it was announced he had won the election the first time he ran several years back. You couldn’t help but notice the changes in his appearance and demeanor compared to the man you keep running into. He was a little slimmer, and he looked a lot happier, a little fuller of life, you decided was a good way to explain it. His smile was wider, and you could see the difference in his eyes as well. It was seeing how he was before the stress of the job began to take its heavy toll. He had on the same leather jacket as well, you were fairly certain, even though the one in the photograph hung a little looser.

You continued to skim through articles, piecing your way through the history of Knockemstiff. Little articles in black and white that persevered the history of this dark little town. You were beginning to realize this backwater town was a lot more tangled and complex than you originally believed. It was a tangled history, riddled with crime and unclosed cases, that people seem to have either forgotten or choose to ignore for their own sake. Your mind wandered back to the things Julie had told you about the Sheriff and him being corrupt. You wonder how much of what you read about linked back to him. Though you imagine if he has any sort of political connection, which a man like him must have, the things he was involved in probably didn’t even make it into the paper. The thought made you physically shiver.

You put the large leather portfolios of archives you took and put them back into their proper place on the self chronologically. You grabbed your sweater from the back of your chair, and pushed the chair back into place. Looking up at the clock on the wall, it was only just one in the afternoon. You decided to head down to the diner and grab a bite, and also visit Julie during her second shift. It was a short walk from the library to the diner. Everywhere felt like a short walk here, probably because everything in downtown was not much bigger than a few blocks. The majority of people lived far from the center of town, on their own land and farms.

The little bell on the door rang when you stepped in and Julie waved at you from behind the counter and pointed for you to grab an empty table in her section. You put your bag on the table and took a seat. It was a fairly busy time, most people who worked at the surrounding businesses coming in for their lunch break. Julie brought you over a coffee and then said she’d be back to chat when she got to take her five.

Lee hadn’t been able to go home since the phone call. The symptoms of his hangover were worsening and he was growing more irritable. His five o’clock shadow was still evident on his tired face and his head was pounding. He tried his best to just power through it but the sound of anyone trying to talk to him just made his ears ring.

After leaving the scene, he had to stop by his office and then he was on the phone for the better part of an hour fielding calls from frantic citizens not only of Knockemstiff but also Meade, where Laferty was from. Despite how horribly he felt, he tried his best to keep his temper level and just reassure people he had things under control. He was losing his patience.

He opened up his desk drawer and grabbed his bottle of asprin. Empty. He threw it into the small waste bin and got up abruptly grabbing his jacket off the hook and storming out. He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving and he didn’t care. It was a short walk to the drugstore from the station and he wouldn’t be five minutes. He just needed to do something to stop his head from hurting.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” the pharmacist greeted when he walked in. He nodded his head upwards briefly to reply without having to talk. He just needed to get in and out. She went back to whatever she was working on when he came in, and he browsed the aisles for what he needed. After paying and walking out, he glanced in the direction of the diner when he was crossing the street. There you were, again. Sitting alone and chatting with the waitress that was refilling your coffee.

He let out a heavy sigh, and then continued walking. He didn’t want you to see him like this, hungover, unshaved, wrinkled uniform and heavy undereye bags from his lack of sleep. You looked- well, Lee thought you were the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while, maybe ever. There was something about you he couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe it was just because you weren’t from here. You were a fresh face, and not ruined by this town. There was a sweetness and an innocence in how you talked to him, because you didn’t know him like the rest of people here did. He liked that.

Even when he left the station for the day, he couldn’t even go home yet. He had a meeting at the bar with one of Brown’s lackeys. He was just supposed to collect his cut so he couldn’t imagine it would take long, but he was still annoyed. Stepping into the bar he looked around as he took off his hat. It was a little more crowded tonight then when he was here last. The red curtain was closed and his eyes lingered there for a moment before directing his attention to the man he recognized who was waving him over.

“Sheriff,” the man greets and Lee slides into the booth across from him.

“Hayward,” he replies. Without even needing to order, the bartender comes over bringing them a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“You ever go back there?” Hayward asks, watching as a girl came out and brought a man behind the curtain who had been waiting at the bar.

“No,” Lee scoffs.

“They are amazing,” Hayward says, almost giddy. Lee feels sympathy towards the poor woman who had to take care of him. Lee doesn’t acknowledge the statement and just empties his glass and begins to pour himself a second.

“So, my cut?” Lee asks. Hayward frowns and goes into the breast pocket of his sports coat and pulls out an envelope of cash.

“You aren’t getting full,” the man says when Lee cocks a brow at the thinness of the envelope.

“Still?” Lee asks, pissed. Hayward nods. Lee’s jaw clenches.

“You didn’t keep things tidy on your end,” Hayward reminds him, “You got one job. Keep the cops out of our territory. We had two cruisers drive through last week. The only reason you’re getting anything at all is cause you managed to keep your people off us when we did the exchange with Deckard’s crew.”

The man finishes his drink, and then slaps the empty glass on the table. He pulls out his own envelope, which is much thicker than Lee’s and drops down more than enough for the drinks. He chuckles condescendingly and tells the Sheriff to get a dance. Fuck that. Lee takes the extra money and plans to just put it right in his pocket and go home. He finishes his third scotch and suddenly his headache was back. He felt worse than he did earlier today.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” a feminine voice asks, making him break his line of thought. He looks to his side and he recognizes her as one of the girls he sees bringing men to the back room, behind the velvet curtain. He shakes his head, and instead of leaving him alone, she slides into the booth next to him. Her hand grazes over his thigh. “You seem awful tense, Sheriff,” she says and then bites her lip.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He knows she doesn’t actually want him, and it’s just an attempt to get him to spend money in the backroom. If he doesn’t focus his already hazing vision, maybe she could vaguely remind him of you. He can’t do it, but he wants to. Her hand moves up his leg and he pulls away. He adjusts his pants and she shrugs.

“Maybe next time then,” she winks before walking away. He rests his head back on the vinyl seat and sighs. He grabs his hat and jacket, leaving before he changes his mind. “Ask for Cherry when you come in, yeah?” she calls when he walks out.

You are just everywhere. You’re in his head and he doesn’t even know you. He needs to sleep, desperately, and part of him in the back of his mind hopes you’ll be there. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember.

“Have you heard about the Church fundraiser coming up?” Julie asks. You shake your head. “It’s a pretty big deal here. Everyone participates.”

“What is it?” you ask, kicking off your slippers so you can sit crisscross on the couch.

“Bid-On-A-Basket,” she says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing.

“Never heard of it,” you reply, “It sounds fun. What is it?”

“All us single gals put together a picnic basket with everything for a lunch,” she explains, “and then all the eligible bachelors bid on the basket and a date with the girl who made it. Last year, the dreamiest guy, Bill Whittier, bought mine- it’s so fun. Me and Bill didn’t work out but it was a good time.”

“I don’t know anyone here,” you say hesitantly.

“Perfect way to get a date then,” she teases. You bite your lip. You aren’t sure about this.

“And what if some creep is the highest bidder?” you counter.

“You get a bad date story for your next date?” she poses. “Please,” she begs, “It’s for a good cause, all the money this year is going to help the Sunday school.”

“What if no one bids on it?” You rebut.

“Look at yourself,” she scoffs, “you’ll get bids. Trust me.” You roll your eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally. She smirks, completely planning to wear you down.

“Remember it’s for the kids,” she reasons, “It wouldn’t hurt to go and participate.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” you laugh.

Time passes and soon enough you get another call from Sandy, and you are suddenly back to taking care of Valerie. You had missed her, a lot actually. You definitely have gotten attached to her, and you think you’ve grown on her too. Sandy was vague this time for how long they’d be gone, but since the previous time went so smoothly, you didn’t worry about it.

About a week after Sandy and Carl left this time, there was another disturbing news report. You were sitting on the floor, changing Valerie and you had the television playing softly in the background. The news told the story of another body, this time found in the woods off of the highway. You finish changing the baby and hold her close, her little chin resting on your shoulder as you watch the news story. It was just like Julie had talked about. Another man, thirty years old. He was shot and his body abandoned. You jump at the knock at the front door.

You peep through the curtains, and you see the Sheriff waiting on the front porch. You wonder if he knows you’re there. Part of you almost wishes he knows it you here and he wanted to see you. It’s incredibly stupid on your part and you know better, but nonetheless, part of you hoped he came here for you. Very stupid. With Valerie on your hip, you open the door.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he says walking into the house. He stops in front of you and presses a kiss to Valerie’s forehead and she squeals happily seeing Lee. You close the door with your foot. “May I?” he asks, and opens his arms. You agree, based on Valerie’s reactions to him whenever she sees him. He takes her in his arms, and she starts playing with his tie. He loosens it so she can play with it and not choke him.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” you ask. He reacts in a way in a way you can’t really read, but you don’t press.

His mind just goes back to the woman a couple weeks back in the brothel who asked him the same thing, and that his mind immediately had gone to you. He just clears his throat and snaps himself out of that thought process.

“Um, I just came by to see Sandy,” he says, “But I can fathom a guess that she’s not here?”

“Excellent deduction,” you joke, and he smirks. Valerie has his tie in her mouth and is covering it in drool. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you nod. “You looked a little scared when you answered.”

“Just watching the news before you showed up is all,” you explain, “They were talking about how there was another man found dead.”

“Ain’t got nothing to worry about,” he says, “We’re on top of it. I’m on my way over there now.”

“Can I ask you something?” you ask hesitantly.

“Of course, darling.”

“My friend, you probably know her- Julie Grady.”

“Yeah, nice kid,” he says, listening but gently pulling his tie from Valerie’s grasp. She starts playing with the flap of the pocket of his jacket.

Kid. You almost grimace. That’s right. Of course, Lee would view someone your age that way. You weren’t. You chastise yourself for even caring, but you decide to continue. You shouldn’t care how he sees you.

“Yeah- well, she told me there have been others,” you continue, “I also read up about it, just the newspapers at the library- but she said people thought it was some kind of serial killer… I just, I want to know what you think.”

“I don’t think know,” he answers honestly, a little taken aback, not expecting you to approach him with something this serious. “I doubt it,” he explains, “Serial killers stay close to home. Now those cases you read about, and these two we are looking at- they sound close together but logistically, they aren’t really. Two of those unsolved were in completely different states- just like this new one.”

“So, no traveling serial killer?” you chuckle, trying to sound lighthearted. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“Most people like that stay in one area,” Lee explains, “They work jobs, they have a home, you know? They tend to stay near where they live.”

“That makes me feel much better,” you answer honestly.

“You got nothing to worry about, and that’s a promise,” he grins, although he supposes coming from him that probably doesn’t mean much. Regardless, it makes you smile.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” you offer again. He bites his lip, taking a moment to think.

“Sandy keeps a bag of candy in her cabinet,” he says, walking into the kitchen with you following close behind. He passes Valerie off to you and he chuckles under his breath at the state of his tie. He reaches up in the cabinet and pulls down a brown paper bag, filled with taffies and chocolates.

Something about this man who has a whole time scared of him playing with his niece and then stealing sweets from the cupboard is something you find so strangely endearing. He unwraps one of the brightly colored taffies and then puts the bag in his pocket.

“I gotta go,” he announces, “let me know if you hear from Sandy, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply.

“Gonna head out to that scene, and do my report,” he discloses, not really sure why he’s telling you. “Then I have a meeting at the rectory about that fundraiser thing. Figure out security.”

“They need security at Bid-On-A-Basket?” you ask, with an eyebrow raised. He smiles.

“You going?” he asks, flirtatiously.

“Just seems weird to have police at a Church thing.”

“There’s been stupid fights,” he shrugs, “some guy will get outbid and cause a fuss. Nothing serious. Probably just gonna be me and a deputy in case. You going?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” you say sheepishly. “Why?”

He walks towards the front door, and you follow seeing him out.

“Cause I gotta know if I’ll be bidding on a basket,” he winks.

“You gonna start a fight if you don’t win it?” you joke.

“If it’s yours? Absolutely, darling.”

Taglist:

@adelaide-walker @thedepressolit @samanthadegaro @pyronack @greeneyedblondie44 @acciosiriusblack @weenersoldierr @teenagemutant @witchybarb @iraot @my-love-darling @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @swiftieandthewintersoldier @letsfly-andbe-free @rebekahdawkins @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @hersilencedscreams @unsaltedalmonds @dangerdolns @vintagepigeon @bluebouquetcupcake29 @goslytherin @captainofallfandoms @buckistan @aynanasstuff @everything-is-all-clear @rosalynshields @tinynshykitten

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #the devil all the time #sebastian stan characters #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker x f!reader #lee bodecker smut #slow burn #mystery #lee bodecker oneshot

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kassandras-one-braincell · 3 years

Text

Eivor x Fem!Reader - Ink Me Up

Oh, what to do when the Norwegian woman tattooing your thigh is insanely attractive, clearly gay, with a criminally good bedside manner?

Warning: about tattooing and obviously needles.

Word count: 4363

Can be found on AO3 here.

Heavily inspired by this post here. The tattoo itself is purely self-indulgent. Eivor is stupidly attractive and it's not fair. (Y/N) replacer safe.

After months of saving and deliberation, the time had come. For the longest time you had dreamed of getting something big, bold and beautiful permanently inked into your skin. Something meaningful. And you wanted someone talented to tattoo it.

Thus, you found yourself scouring the web for reputable tattoo shops, hours upon hours poured into searching artists’ portfolios, hoping that someone was skilled enough at black-and-grey realism within a relatively close radius. If you were going to pay a hefty sum for a tattoo, you wanted it to be perfect. Your desktop was flooded with reference images of sword lilies – the subject of your desired ink – and about a dozen different parlours, tabs whittling down one by one during your search.

The final tab was the website for a slightly pricier shop, but one of the artist’s Instagrams utterly captivated you. Their artwork was extraordinary, the details in their pieces stunning and intricate; you decided investing a little extra cash would be worth it. Eivor Varinsdóttir, handle @wolfkissed_ink. Grinning, you emailed the artist, requesting a consultation.

You explained to the artist during that consultation that you wanted a composition of black-and-grey realistic gladioli on your left thigh. Sword lilies represented strength, after all, and you wanted to commemorate overcoming a difficult part of your life with something gorgeous and symbolic. That and, well, flowers were pretty. Within the week they had responded with a sketch that was beyond what you could have possibly thought up yourself: two stunning, bloomed sprigs of the flower with petals floating either side, lifelike as a monochrome photograph. Smiling ear-to-ear, you booked up your first appointment.

Unbridled excitement led to the time before your appointment soaring by, with you opening up the file of the sketch almost every day. Bringing us to the present: you stood anxiously outside the parlour door, 12:50pm, ten minutes before your scheduled appointment. Sucking in a shaky breath, nerves both good and bad, you stepped inside.

The tattoo shop was sleek, modern and decked wall-to-wall with flash sheets, the small designs varying in style, colour and detail. Everything was spotless, as one would expect, with shining awards dotted about. Just seeing the various trophies did well to quell some of your anxieties, knowing you were in good hands, that you’d end up with a lovely piece on your thigh. A stout man covered neck to foot in swirling Japanese designs manned the front desk, smiling warmly at you, obliterating any stigmas you had heard from older relatives about tattoo culture.

Biting your lip, you made your way to the desk, mustering a nervous smile. As thrilled as you were about getting the tattoo, the whole pain aspect was still rather daunting. “Hey, one o’clock appointment for (Y/N) (L/N)?” You fidgeted with the hem of your shorts while the gentleman checked his desktop.

“With Eivor, right?” he verified. You nodded.

“Sorry I’m a little early—”

“No, not at all! Rather you be early than late,” he chuckled, clearly sensing your worries. His eyes flickered across a clipboard. “She’s not with a client at the moment, so I’ll send you through now, if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you bade, pulse quickening. Come on, you’ve wanted this for so long, you can’t pussy out now.

The guy asked you to wait by the desk as he ventured down a long corridor, the black paint giving off an ominous vibe that did nothing for your nerves. A few seconds later, he returned, cocking his head for you to follow. Your knuckles were white from gripping the strap of your purse so tightly.

He led you to the room at the end of the hall, holding the glossy black door open for you. “Go easy on her, Eivor, it’s clearly her first,” he called out, flashing you a wink, before letting the door close behind you.

Holy shit.

She was hot.

Eivor was nothing short of a modern day viking. Tall, rippling with muscle, late twenties to early thirties, blond hair strewn into an unruly braid with a strip on the right shaved clean to the flesh, revealing a fucking skull tattoo of a bird…a raven? Her face was stupidly handsome, eyes blue and icy but warm with greeting, a long and gnarly scar cutting into the flesh of her left cheek with a smaller nick protruding from her upper lip. Hell, the nape of her neck was marred with an even more vicious looking scar. She wore a tight black t-shirt that strained around her deliciously grizzled arms, which were adorned with Norse-looking runes and text curving into circles, ink that carried on to her hands and neck. The smile she offered you made you weak in the knees.

“(Y/N), right? I’m Eivor, a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, voice deep and gravelly, decorated with a rasp that to you sounded like butter. Fuck me, she’s a tall, tall glass of water.

You shook her hand when she extended it to you, marvelling at the patterns and blacked-out bands on her long, thick fingers. Her nails were cut extremely short, confirming the strong lesbian vibe she gave off. “Likewise,” you squeaked, cursing yourself for acting like some bloody schoolgirl.

She sauntered over to her setup, weight carried in her shoulders, consolidating her already intimidatingly attractive butch energy, sanitised her hands and pulled on a clean pair of gloves. “Come on over,” she said, grabbing a disposable razor from a box. “I’ll just need to make sure the area is shaven, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” you replied, joining her by the leather chair, covered by a sheet of cellophane. It was a relief to see all the hygiene precautions taken in the shop. Eivor picked up a disinfectant wipe.

“Left thigh, if I remember correctly?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

She dropped to one knee – wasn’t that a fucking sight – and wiped down the expanse of your thigh before gliding the razor over the flesh.

Hesitantly, you asked her what the general procedure was, desperately trying to divert your thoughts from the sapphic spiral they were travelling down.

“Alright, after I’ve finished here I’ll apply the stencil. You’ll get to check if you like the placement, and if you don’t I’ll keep going until you’re happy with it. It’s a big piece, so we’ll have to split this up into two sessions, as we discussed alongside payment.” She brushed away the loose hairs and peach fuzz. “I’ll do the linework this session, and the shading next time.” With one final pass of the razor she pulled back, tossing it into a bin.

Eivor then picked up a sheet of thin paper with the sketch printed on it. She plucked a purple pen from her table. “Give me a few minutes to trace the stencil, then we’ll apply it and see how you like it.” You nodded, trying to focus on your breathing.

While she traced over each line of the sketch, she kindly attempted to soothe your fears with small talk. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of a ‘gladiolus’ before our consultation. Any reason why you chose it?”

You smiled. “They represent strength. I finally got through a rough spell and wanted something to celebrate with,” you explained, heart skipping a beat at the soft expression on the artist’s face.

“All the more reason to get this perfect then,” she said with a grin. The way the scar on her upper lip quirked was positively adorable. A couple minutes passed and she re-capped the pen. “Stand up straight for me, darling.” Oh.

Cheeks burning with bashfulness, you complied. Eivor took a second to angle the stencil before smoothing it over your thigh, leaving a purple outline once she removed the paper. “Just have a look in that mirror over there and tell me if you’re happy, okay?”

You walked over to the mirror and stared at your thigh. The tattoo was large – which you expected, with the amount of detail in it – and perfectly central, the loose petals appearing to float down the length of your thigh. “Perfect,” you breathed out, giving the woman a thumbs-up.

Eivor switched over her gloves and gestured for you to take a seat on the chair. “Get comfy, then. Do you have water?” Nodding, you took out your water bottle from your handbag. “Brilliant. Still want to do this?”

“Hell yeah.” Weirdly, the nerves about the pain (not about the sexy artist) had almost wholly subsided, leaving you brimming with anticipation.

She poured some jet black ink into small caps, no larger than the tip of your thumb. “Remember to breathe through it and hold still, yeah? You picked a smart place for your first tattoo, not too close to the bone.”

“I’ll try.” Eivor opened a sealed packet containing a new, sterilised needle, inserting it into her tattoo machine. She switched it on, the buzz of the machine’s piston filling the room with a gentle hum. Looking up at you, she cocked her brow – if only your gay thoughts could bugger off for two minutes – as if to ask, ready? Affirmatively, you beamed at her.

Dipping the needle into the ink, she pulled the skin of your thigh taut. Immediately, you noted the warmth of her hand on your leg, fighting off a shudder. Then came a mildly painful scratching sensation as she brought the machine to your thigh.

Honestly? It wasn’t bad. Irritating, like an itchy eye, but not drastically unpleasant. You followed Eivor’s advice, keeping your breathing steady, averting your attention to the artwork on the walls, some of which you had seen on her Instagram portfolio. Portraits, flowers, animals, realistic-looking jewellery…the woman had mastered black-and-grey. You knew you picked the right artist. The frown of concentration on her face spoke volumes about her dedication to the art, steeled and intently focused on the lines she was pulling.

When she wiped the area and reached for more ink, she glanced up at your face. “All good?” she asked.

“Yeah, no issues here.”

“Wonderful.” She set back to work, positioning her needle over the flower’s curved stem, dragging it downwards in a slow arc. “Your skin takes ink like butter, by the way.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you breathed out. Her hand suddenly felt a little warmer. Tell me this woman does audiobooks, you thought.

After a few more lines, you tried to pepper in some small talk without breaking her concentration. Fortunately, her bedside manner was immaculate, and she entertained your questions without any grudges.

“Your voice is really soothing. Where abouts are you from?”

“Oh, thank you. I’m from Norway, moved here a few years back.” She grinned at the compliment. “It’s funny, people usually say the opposite about my voice.” You wondered if they were deaf.

“It’s a nice rasp,” you chuckled. Buzzing stopped, more ink.

“I was bitten by a wolf when I was nine,” she explained. Buzzing recommenced, scratching returned. “My larynx never properly healed from it, so I’ve sounded like some chain-smoker since before I hit double-digits, despite never touching a cigarette in my life.”

“You don’t sound like a chain-smoker, though. I mean it.”

Her grin widened. “That actually means a lot.”

An hour passed by, most of it spent in comfortable silence, with Eivor checking in on you occasionally to see how you were coping. Certain patches of nerves stung a little more than others, but none of it was unbearable. That was until her machine passed over a particularly rough area. It fucking killed, the burn of the needle seemingly deeper than anywhere else, the sting infinitely more intense than before. You hissed, gritting your teeth together.

“Ow,” you winced, clutching onto your water bottle in an attempt to relieve the pain, to no avail.

Eivor continued pulling her line, her rasp coming out in a low mantra. “Just breathe through it, nice and slow…” You tried to follow, attempting in vain to relax your shoulders. “Keep holding still for me…” Your breaths came shallow but steadily so, the stinging slowly becoming more endurable. The machine reached the end of the line. “Good girl,” she muttered, blissfully of absent mind.

Good girl.

Oh fuck.

Just when your clearly gay tattoo artist couldn’t get any hotter, she comes out with some hot-girl bullshit like that. And fuck, you didn’t think you had a praise kink before, but now this certainly awakened something. Why, why did it have to sound so good in her husky voice? No, you were absolutely not going to fantasise about your artist, not when her hands were on your skin, on your thigh of all fucking places. God, this stupidly attractive Norwegian butch was making you uncomfortably hot.

When she finally pulled away, sweet bloody reprieve, you took a sip of your water. “That wasn’t fun,” you remarked.

“Took it like a champion, though,” she beamed proudly, clearly unaware of the affect her words had just had on you. “Need a break?”

“Just a minute or two, thank you,” you sighed with relief. Eivor wiped you down and analysed her work.

“We’re just over halfway there,” she commented. Only halfway? Fuck. You allowed your eyes to wander over the black lines, all perfectly smooth from practiced precision. Yeah, this woman was talented.

“I mean, that killed, and that was my thigh…” you trailed off, making her laugh. “What was the most painful tattoo you’ve gotten?”

Eivor answered without hesitation. “My head, without a doubt. Packing solid black into that thing was agony. My fingers killed, too, but all completely worth it.” You couldn’t help but agree with that last part. Her hands looked extremely good, both with and without those gloves.

“I’m guessing places with more nerve endings and by the bone are the worst, then?”

“Definitely. The palm of the hand is the most sensitive, and it’s tough to get right. Ink bleeds, skin bleeds…and if you don’t do it well it’ll just fade. All that pain for nought.”

You gulped down some more water. Ouch. “Duly noted.”

After ninety odd more minutes, Eivor switched off her machine for good, the linework finished and utterly flawless. “All done for this session,” she announced, changing gloves once more to clean and wrap the area. There was minimal irritation around each line, and the wipe felt wonderfully cool against the reddening flesh.

Once she finished placing various equipment in a tub labelled ‘autoclave’, she escorted you to the front desk. You paid half the decided fee of the tattoo and booked your second session for three weeks’ time. Eivor gave you an aftercare kit, explaining in detail how to keep the tattoo clean, how to prevent infection, and to avoid direct exposure to sunlight as much as you could. Eagerly, you listened, trying to drink in as much of her voice as possible before departing.

“I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Take care, (Y/N),” she grinned. From the moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew that grin would be engraved into your mind for the weeks to come.

The second appointment couldn’t have come quickly enough.

You spent an embarrassing quantity of time thinking about your dreamy tattoo artist, right up until the day you walked back into the shop, this time free of any concerns pertaining to the tattoo. The gentleman from before recognised you and asked how the tattoo was holding up, if you’d had any issues keeping it clean, to which you replied all was good. Only this time, Eivor came to greet you by the front desk.

“How’s it going?” she asked, welcoming as before.

“Really good. I just hope I’ve been doing everything right,” you chuckled, anxiously glancing down at your thigh. The redness had completely disappeared a few days after your first appointment, the black ink proudly meandering over your skin.

Eivor smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, you’d know if you haven’t. From here it looks like you’ve done a fantastic job of keeping it clean, anyway.” You followed her to her studio, mentally noting how she was wearing an even tighter black t-shirt than last time, the fabric clinging to the defined contours of her muscled back, biceps, abs… Needless to say, the gay thoughts had returned at full-force.

As before, she shaved and disinfected your thigh, but instead of a stencil she had the full greyscale reference images for the design printed and taped to a metal beam above her table. She took careful time in diluting various caps of black ink into a plethora of greys, experience shining through as she added precise amounts of diluter to each cap. There was something addictive about watching the woman work, with how methodical she was, how delicately she handled the bottles of ink.

When she unpacked a needle, you noted the shape was different to before. “Now, some parts are gonna be only a little rougher than before. Others will suck, I’ll warn you now,” she mentioned as you positioned yourself on the chair.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” you joked. Eivor laughed.

“You handled it like a trooper before. I have zero doubts you’ll do the same today.”

And so she began, making multiple passes with the machine unlike before, packing in the different shades of grey in front of her, scratching into the already broken skin. It wasn’t massively painful, but Eivor was right – last time was a breeze in comparison. You rested your eyes and bore the pain, focusing on the faint music playing from the shop’s reception.

As previously, she was ever considerate, checking up on you as she worked – albeit not as frequently, now that you were accustomed to the needles – and encouraging you through the nastier patches. You tried your hardest to not look at your thigh, wanting the final result to be a surprise, but over time it grew increasingly difficult not to sneak a glance at her hands. Merely the thought of them flustered you (pathetic, you knew) and nothing would be more embarrassing than drifting off into a less than appropriate fantasy about the woman when she was simply being professional.

Time blurred together amongst your inner dilemma – to look or not to look – until Eivor’s signature rasp caught your attention. “Time for your least favourite part,” she said, giving you a knowing look, positioning her needle in one of the petals over the area that hurt like a bitch previously.

“Oh god, I forgot about that area.”

“Just own the pain and keep still, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Eivor smirked: a wicked thing that could have killed every sapphic in a mile radius. “Squirm and I’ll pin you down. I’ve had to do it before, and I’ll do it again.”

That, under different circumstances, would be an appealing notion.

Closing your eyes once more, you tried to decipher the song lyrics resonating through the shop’s hall, grimacing when the needle penetrated the skin. Just focus on Rihanna, focus on Rihanna…

“That’s…not so bad, actually,” you mutter, not entirely self-assured of the words leaving your lips, hoping some placebo affect would take place.

Eivor chuckled, dipping into another shade. “You sound convincing,” she drawled.

“I’m – ow – serious… Okay fuck, that’s way worse.”

“Shh, it’ll be over soon. Find something to focus on.”

So you did, on what happened to be the first thing in your immediate line of sight when you re-opened your eyes: Eivor’s bicep. God, her shirt strained around the muscle, black fabric against tanned skin and the deep green runes littering her arm. Perhaps the ink had something to do with her ancestry, given that the woman said she was Norwegian – that or she was just a mythology nerd. Your eyes trailed over the spirals of script, the perfectly concentric circles. Mind wandering, the idea that she may have tattoos on her back and front piqued your interest. Then came the delightful image of Eivor without a shirt. Pinning you down. Fuck.

Before long the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache where the needle had worked at your skin. “All done, darling,” Eivor murmured, wiping the patch. Darling. You knew it was simply her bedside manner, trying to keep you as relaxed as possible, but damn was it having the polar opposite effect. Cheeks feeling impossibly hot, you unscrewed the cap of your bottle and took a sizeable gulp of water. She gave you a moment to breathe, now that the most difficult part was out of the way. Still flustered, you drained half your bottle.

Concern plastered on her face, Eivor leaned closer, inspecting your face intently. “Are you feeling faint?” she asked, evidently worried. “It’s important you tell me if you are—”

“No, no, I’m fine, really.” You were stuttering, annoyed with yourself that you made her worry. “Just being weird. I promise.”

“You do?” Her eyebrows were still upturned, not entirely believing you.

You nodded frantically. “Yeah, really. Please don’t worry.”

Taking a slow breath, she restarted the machine, relief flashing across her features. She gestured for permission to continue tattooing, which you granted, and set back to work.

Cursing internally, you let your eyes flutter shut, thoughts full of nothing but ‘good girls’ and ‘darlings’ in a husky Norwegian accent. Numbing yourself to the needles, you drifted off into slumber.

“Hey, (Y/N)?”

A gentle pressure squeezed at your hand, slowly stirring you, bringing you back to the world of the living. Yawning, you opened your eyes, gaze brought to a gloved hand atop your own.

“Good evening,” Eivor said, retracting her hand and watching as you gasped and scanned the studio for a clock in a panic. Evening?

“Kidding,” she laughed. “I finished up ten minutes ago.” You shot her a half-hearted glare through sleepy eyelids.

“That was mean,” you pouted. She grinned.

“I do stab people for a living.”

Snorting, you swung your legs over the side of the chair, stretching them to regain a semblance of sensation. Chest pounding with excitement, you looked to the mirror at the side of the room, then at Eivor, silently asking permission to peak at the finished tattoo. She held out her hand in gesticulation.

Giddy with anticipation, you walked over and… Holy shit.

It was beautiful.

Each shade of grey blended into one another in a perfect harmony, so seamlessly that the black outline from before was barely visible. The shadows underneath each leaf, each petal looked real. Every speckle and wrinkle on the petals shone through, love and attention going into every marking. The falling petals were akin to a photograph, with the light grey background wash tying them to the main flowers, each little shadow appearing to give them different depths. It was beyond anything you imagined. All that pain, mental and physical, turned into a lifetime of beauty.

You didn’t realise you were crying until the salt of tears rolled into your awe-parted mouth.

“I’m, well… Wow.” Beaming, you turned to face your artist, who looked at her artwork with pride. “Thank you, Eivor. Thank you so much.”

She shook her head and offered you a box of tissues, from which you took one gladly. “I’m just honoured to have helped you lay that chapter of your life to rest. May the sword-lilies battle any shreds of it that remain.”

Stunned by her poetic inclination, you dried your eyes in silence, lips curved into a joyous smile. Meanwhile, she removed her gloves.

“You have tissues at the ready. I’m guessing people cry a lot here?” you asked, finally prying your eyes away from the masterpiece on your thigh.

“Mostly from the pain,” she remarked.

“You know, you could just lie to me so I don’t feel like such a fucking sap.”

The sound that left Eivor’s mouth in response was nothing if not angelic. She practically howled in hearty laughter, echoing through her studio, her eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t think it possible for your grin to widen further still, but her outburst was contagious in the best way.

“I’m glad you’re happy with it. Truly,” she breathed out, chest stilling from her fit.

“It’s beautiful. Happy is an understatement.”

Eivor made her way over to the desk in the corner of the studio, where a graphics tablet lay alongside a stylus. “Now, before I dress it, I’m legally required to ask you if I have permission to photograph the tattoo for advertisement purposes. I appreciate it’s a personal subject matter and completely understand if—”

“Go for it,” you shrugged.

“Are you certain?” You nodded.

“Of course. It’s a work of art.” The smile she gave you was genuine.

“This’ll only take a minute. Thank you, really.”

She knelt down and snapped a picture with the tablet, checking the quality. “All done.” Eivor then proceeded to sanitise her hands and slip on one last pair of gloves, grabbing the wipes and plastic wrap from her station. “The photo will be uploaded to the shop’s website and my professional Instagram, if that’s alright with you. Completely anonymous, of course.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Although, it’ll be weird seeing my leg on my feed.” She chuckled.

“Feel free to email or DM if you have any concerns with the healing.” Patting your leg, she stood up to her full height, placing her gloves in a biohazard ziplock. “Well, I’m honoured to have given you your first tattoo.”

“Honoured to be your…canvas?”

And just like that, your time with the artist was up. You watched wistfully as she put together an aftercare pack at the front desk, your previously overjoyed expression drifting into a sad one. After paying, you thanked her one final time.

“Take care, søta,” she said with a wink.

The very moment you arrived back home, you whipped out a Norwegian-to-English translator and immediately tried to replicate her pronunciation of the word she called you, blushing profusely when discovering it meant ‘cutie’. And upon opening your cleaning pack, you found an addition that wasn’t present in your previous bundle:

A small slip of paper. On one side, a mobile number. On the other, in beautifully neat cursive,

I’d love to take you to dinner. Text me if you’re interested?

Yours, Eivor

#eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #female eivor #tattoo parlor au #modern au #ac valhalla

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fictitiousfoodie · 3 years

Text

A Few Weeks FINAL PART

I just want to say thank you for all the love, likes, and comments on the series A Few Weeks. I am open to suggestions for the next series or one shots you want to see.

Masterlist is updated with all part!

Tags for Masterlist or marvel writings in the future are open. If you are apart of the tag list for this series I will NOT be tagging you in future pieces unless you have already requested it.

Requests are open as well

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR USE MY WORK AS YOUR OWN!

Word Count 1.3K

All Parts HERE

Y/N stared in silence but quickly regained her composure. She could do this. She would let all the emotions out when she got done with the meeting. But, for right now, she needed to stay professional. Luckily most of the meeting was her taking notes setting meetings, or keeping track of information. When the meeting ended, Y/N quickly left the zoom and focused on work.

--------------------------------

A month and a half later, Y/N was happily walking to the sound stage. Production had decided to work on other areas of the film and go back to what was being shot in the UK later on. After the first zoom, Tom had sent her a text message saying he was sorry again and would like to talk about what happened. Y/N wrote backing, saying there was no need and no hard feelings. She had a job to do first and foremost and wasn't going to let anyone stop her from doing it to the best of her ability. She had prepared for today. She knew Tom would be on set. She had two lists on her portfolio binder she carried around. The first, although not titled as such, were Things to Talk About w/ Tom. This list was in case Tom tried to start anything other than a professional conversation with her. The second list was Things To Do If With Tom, which had all sorts of tasks that could either distract her or altogether remove her from the situation.

The day had been lovely. Tom had been working with lines and makeup and directors, so he never had a free moment, and if he did, luckily, Y/N didn't. She got home feel better than she had in weeks. An excellent first day had fanned the flames of being on set.

---------------------------

Three weeks later, Y/N had been having a string of bad luck. Sophie had found a job in New York a few weeks ago and was leaving tomorrow. Filming had ramped up in hopes of trying to make up for lost time, and she arrived home every day dead tired. Plus, Tom had a new assistant who happened to look just like her, and as much as she told herself, it didn't hurt or matter - it did.

"Hey, you almost ready?" Y/N called to Sophie.

"Yes, but like I said, we don't have to go out. I know work is exhausting for you right now." Sophie tried to reason.

"ARE YOU KIDDING?! My best friend has gotten a job in New York. There isn't a chance in the world that I wouldn't be celebrating and going out with her one last time before she leaves. Now let's go!" Y/N exclaimed

They went to dinner at their favorite restaurant then went to several bars and clubs, meeting up with friends and colleagues along the way. One of the writers they had become friends with suggested they go to Daz, a very high-end club a few blocks from where they had been. The club was nice. It had lots of seating tucked into all sorts of corners, and although it still had a dance floor, it was a calmer, more seductive feel to the entire place. Y/N sat with Sophie and company around a table and got a drink enjoying spending time away from work and life. A new song came on over the sound system, and Sophie grabbed Y/N had and pulled her to the floor. They danced and laughed for the rest of the evening. Eventually, the night came to an end, though, and Sophie had enjoyed one or two drinks more than she should've and was keeping Y/N busy in trying to round up their things to leave. Right as they were walking out, Y/N spotted him out of the corner of her eye. Sitting in a corner booth by himself was Tom. He already had his eyes on her because the second he had noticed her, he hadn't been able to tear them away. Something inside Y/N started aching. She could see the pain in his eyes. She recognized it from what she saw in the mirror. He had seemed just fine on set and in meetings, but she realized he must have been hiding it just like she had. She hadn't truly gotten over everything. She had just learned to live with it. Sophie started to gag, pulling Y/N out of her stare and caused her to rush outside, barely making it in time for Sophie to get sick in the plants.

"Come on, Soph let's get you home," Y/N said more to herself than Sophie.

The following day Sophie was packing the last of her stuff into her suitcase for the plane. Y/N was standing at the door trying to be excited for her best friend and trying to hid how lonely she knew she would be without her. Sophie's phone dinged with the notification of the arrival of her uber taking her to the airport. They hurried to pick up the last of her things, and Y/N promised she would either mail anything she had left or give it to her when she came to visit. They hugged and got teary-eyed saying goodbye, and Y/N watched from the front step as Sophie rode towards the airport.

A hand on her shoulder startled her. She quickly turned around and was surprised to see Tom.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck! You scared the shit out of me." Y/N explained as she clutched her chest.

"I'm sorry su-" He had started to say sunflower but stopped. Y/N noticed, and him not saying it killed her. But Tom continued before she could say anything. "I'm sorry, and I know I am not the person you probably want to see, but I knew Sophie was leaving today, and I just wanted to stop by and see if you were doing okay and give you this." He extended his hand with a book in it. Chicken Soup for the Sisters Soul. Y/N laughed at the ridiculous book in his hands, and Tom smiled. Silence fell between them, and both their smiles faded with the weight that hung in the air. Tom broke the silence first, saying, "I guess I will go - if you need anything, I am always here for you." Y/N grabbed his hand and paused as she tried to figure out what to say. She wanted him back in her life. She wanted to smile with him and share books and thoughts with him. " I ... you .... I'm sorry. I made mistakes too. And it wasn't fair of me to not let you clarify or talk about it. Everybody makes mistakes, and I can't expect someone to not make them. If you'd be willing, I would like you to stay. And maybe if you do, you can forgive me, and we can try this thing over again. But for real and just the two of us." She didn't know how to stop talking now that she had started. "Because you know I love Seb and everything but not like you, and he is more of a friend or big brother anyway. I think this could be really good, but I am bad at relation -." She was cut off by Tom pulling her into a deep and passionate kiss. He had heard everything he needed to. She had said she loved him without even realizing that's what she had said. The kiss seemed to tell the rest, and as they came up for air, Y/N, "So, you caught the I love you part then." Tom chuckled to himself and placed a soft kiss on her nose, whispering, "Yeah, Sunflower, I did. I love you too."

@smileygirl08 @lizzleathal @jennamarieee623 @friedhistoryfolkloreweasel @kteelou @vivien-1211 @country-cowgirl-101 @blacksnape123 @freakishlyadorable @demonicax666 @allo-frouto @sherala007 @teatimewithhiddles @kooky4crystals @albinotigerpython @loucometti @funnyusername15 @kulteule @missryerye @izz2313 @kikisparadise18 @spn-obession @kaitlynisinfinite @icant-hangout-imdrumming @avengerstanforlife @dazedkrosupreme @snoot-n-bootn @brittbax @writer-fun-n @marianas-studyblr @cumberlocked4everr @marshxx @memenerdlover @patdsinner33 @reddesert-healourblues @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans @scottlangsorangeslices @yobroitsjayden @knewsbyk @buckyfan12 @thighhighsanti @namjoonies-moonchild @daughterofautumn @zareen165 @livetay84 @lorielulu7 @kingtwhiddleston @kaelaofasgard @drdaddystrange @itsxxalexx @yanderequeen @chvntelle-99 @potatoloveisreal @sarahivi @ive6669 @radi0active-thoughts @jenjen8675309 @awesomeowlbook@moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom @qweenofgods @spookyparadisesheep @hood-jabi @fanficforfun @buckysbae @hey-diddly-ho-neighborino @fanficworld @aurorasnape12 @winters-childern-languge @prettychaoticlottie @grav3dollie-666 @charistory @amf71010 @amora-lauf3yson @thebookisbtr @killjoycai

#marvel #Marvel smut #marvel series #loki #loki fanfic #loki smut #Loki x reader #Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston Smut #tom hiddleston fanfiction

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obey-only-me · 3 years

Text

Portfolio By: Akuzondelivery

Warnings // threesome, F!MC, mentions of female anatomy, slight domination, netorare themes, slight exhibitionism.

Simeon has been learning more about his camera and his new interest in photography. He studied and tried different art styles and approaches and now he was inspired by a book at the library. Wanting to add new pieces to his collection and to try something out of the box. Something he might not have been able to do before. But now that he had you, your support and love, he felt he could do anything. And of course you wanted to show your love and support; so when he asked you to be his model for you agreed right away. It was when he asked for Lucifer’s help you started wondering what kind of shoot he had in mind.

“It’s a boudoir shoot. So I have something for you to wear while you pose with Lucifer.” Simeon said it so calmly you almost didn’t register what he had said.

You were at Purgatory Hall, well his bedroom, setting up the scene. You felt a little nervous standing in such sultry lingerie under the short robe you were using to cover up. But trusted your loving boyfriend and loved seeing him smile excitedly. After placing his tripod in just the right spot he walked over to where you are.

“If you don’t want to do this...I’d understand. Are you sure you want to?” Simeon brought you into a tight hug, his big hands gently caressing your back.

“Hmm. I’m a little nervous but, I’m excited too.” You confessed with a shy grin as you pulled away just enough to look at him.

“...you look beautiful.” His eyes sparkled slightly as he said it, making you blush.

“Kiss for good luck?” You teased.

Soft, familiar lips caressed yours for a moment, parting just as the door to the bedroom closed, Lucifer now joining you and Simeon.

“Ah. Well excuse me.” Lucifer said with a hint of humor. “Have I interrupted?” His smirk was as sly as ever.

“Finally our second model has arrived!” Simeon joyfully called his friend over. You were excited to be working with Lucifer. You trusted him, and he was so handsome it made you excited to be touched. But more work was going to be fun for the three of you.

“So what am I wearing?” Lucifer quizzed as he looked you up and down, pausing a moment on your short white robe.

“I thought I’d have you stay in your suit. Minus your coat. I’m hoping to keep a lot of focus on MC.”

Again you shifted nervously, and with excitement.

With that the shoot started. Keeping your robe on you sat on your knees in the middle of Simeon’s bed. Simeon took a few test shots. Set his timers. Readied his digital camera he would be manually snapping shots with. And had Lucifer join you.

He sat on his knees behind you and under Simeon’s direction, Lucifer began by opening and removing your robe slowly. The shutters started and slowly Lucifer and you were entangled. His gloved hands holding your waist, slowly exploring your body. The eye contact Simeon wanted was turning you on more than you’d like to admit. Lucifer’s gaze was confident and dominating, his touches light and feather like. He made no attempt to hold back where he was touching, not that you minded.

“Your face is so red MC...are you enjoying this?” Lucifer whispered hotly into your ear.

Simeon’s eyes caught the perfect moment, your reaction to Lucifer’s whisper.

“That was great. Whatever you did, keep doing it.” Your photographer was inspired now.

Lucifer let out a low chuckle, continuing to whisper and began grinding against you slightly. He removed his vest, gloves, and tie before continuing.

“Keep your eyes on me...” Lucifer’s large hands roamed up your sides, teasingly caressing your breasts and rear. “You’re irresistible like this...”

As the shutters continued, Lucifer’s touches became firmer, more teasing. You glanced over at your boyfriend, wondering if he was okay with Lucifer’s direction. He seemed excited still, a tinge of red across his cheeks.

You felt Lucifer’s lips against your neck, making a moan slip from your lips. Simeon’s face jumped from behind his camera to watch you shiver and squirm under Lucifer’s touch. He watched as Lucifer kissed up your ear, dragging his tongue in small areas on your neck as he did so. Instead of jealously however...he wanted to see more.

“...MC...let Lucifer...Touch you more. If you’re okay with that...” he timidly spoke, this was the first uncertain direction given.

Caught up in how warm your core was growing under Lucifer’s touch you nodded, wanting more as well. Lucifer didn’t hesitate to oblige, a hand moving to touch you between your legs. Rubbing your sex through the lace and thin fabric.

“Spread your legs MC. Let him get a nice picture of you.” Lucifer whispered again, making it impossible to hold back your sighs of pleasure. Simeon watched with dark eyes as you spread your thighs open, letting the shutters capture your pathetic state.

Lucifer’s other hand crept under your bra to tease and pinch at your nipples.

“L-Lucifer...” you whispered to keep from moaning out. He pressed his hips against your ass, making sure you felt how hard he had grown from teasing you.

“Saying another man’s name in front of your boyfriend...how naughty.” Lucifer let his hips grind against you as his finger slipped pass the fabric covering your heat to kiss your sensitive pearl. Now your moans fell freely from your lips, filled with arousal and shame.

“Mmmnnn...!” You looked to Simeon again, wondering how much he would let happen before he made them stop. But he paid little attention to your gaze as he continued to move around the room and take pictures.

“Look how hard Simeon is...watching you be played with.”

That’s when you noticed how erect Simeon was. His cock pressing tightly against his pants. Now your arousal built, knowing Simeon was enjoying it made you want more.

Lucifer brought your gaze back to him, pulling your chin to kiss you deeply. You moaned into the kiss as he pulled down the lace bra to free your breasts. The cool room made your nipples stiff and sensitive. His fingers dipped further under you, pressing into your entrance. Your arm curved so that your fingers could tangle in his hair, your hips moving against his fingers and grinding against his hardened cock at the same time.

Lucifer began roughly entering you, pushing into your pillowy spots. Your legs shook as the heat within you kept building. Lucifer’s breathing was heavy and staggered. You noticed then that the zipper of his pants was being pulled down. Now his bare, hard cock pressed against the small of your back. You could feel how thick and big he was. Your walls twitch with anticipation. And Lucifer definitely noticed.

“You want it dont you? You want my cock deep inside you while your boyfriend watches.” His fingers picked up a merciless pace, bring you close to an orgasm. You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your loud moans, but a voice spoke up.

“L-let me hear you...MC...”

You looked at Simeon who was stroking his own cock, his lengthy member weeping with precum only a few feet from you. The glazed over look in his eyes was familiar. He was really enjoying himself.

“C-cumming...” you moaned out as your walls clenched around Lucifer’s fingers.

“Good. Let go MC. Cum for me and Simeon...” Lucifer kept whispering praises and encouragement against your ear until you finally moaned and shook from your blissful burst.

Breathing heavily, you moaned until finally level headed again.

“You’re so cute MC...” Lucifer teased before pushing you forward onto your hands and knees.

He slipped your panties down your thighs, letting his cock slide between your slick covered lips from behind. You were still sensitive from cumming so your moans were strained.

“L-Lucifer! Your cock feels good...” you moaned shyly, remembering your boyfriend was still watching, stroking his cock vigorously while he took photos of your breasts and your weeping pussy.

“I’m going to make you feel even better. Do you want it?”

“I-I do.”

“Simeon?”

“I...I want to see it.”

With everyone’s consent, Lucifer slowly pressed his thick cock inside you. You could feel him stretching your body in a new way, making you shiver around him. His hips moved slowly, but even that was enough to build another orgasm.

“Lucifer! Simeon! So good!” You moaned out without thinking, mind completely focused on how good it felt to have him drill into you.

“Good MC. You’re taking me so well.” Lucifer hissed as he held on to your hips, his own snapping into you roughly as you relaxed around his shaft.

By now Simeon had set his camera aside to pull his own pants further down, stroking himself as he approached the edge of the bed.

“MC...would you....”

Lucifer lifted your face by gently pulling your hair up.

“Order her Simeon. Tell her what to do.”

Locking eyes with you, your usually shy boyfriend took his friend’s advice.

“MC. Open your mouth.” Without hesitating you followed his order and greedily sucked the tip of his cock as he eased forward. “Good Girl. You’re so good...” As he slowly eased down your throat, his large hand took Lucifer’s away and gently held the base of your neck.

Familiar with his shape and size, it was easy to suck and lick his pulsing hot cock.

Your moans vibrating around him made his hips buck for more. He felt a bit impatient but loved being down your throat. The room was filled with the low guttural moans of both men and lewd sounds of skin on skin. Being filled by two people you love admired was a new sensation. You loved looking up and seeing the erotic expression over your boyfriend’s face. And Lucifer was building you one of your hardest orgasms. His quiet stream of curses made your face hot.

“You’re so tight MC. I see why Simeon’s is late to see me on your days off. You must stay in bed all day with her.” Lucifer teased as his pace quicken even more.

Simeon also picked up his own pace, eagerly thrusting himself down your throat. His moans were breathy, gaze never leaving yours.

“I’m going to cum soon.” Simeon huffed. “Can I-Mmmn. No.... Drink it all down MC.”

“I’m going to finish soon. Take all of it like a good girl.” Lucifer hissed.

You held Simeon’s hips as he uprubtly stopped to release in your throat and filled your mouth.

“MC-!” He moaned out as he finished.

Lucifer’s thrust were wild and rough but he too came soon after with a loud grunt, still inside you to empty himself.

Pulling away and out of you, Lucifer shifted on the bed to rest on his back. Simeon sat on the edge of the bed next to you and you found yourself weakly falling next to him. You hadn’t cum yet, and Simeon wanted to see you make that face you make when he takes you over the edge.

Lucifer cleaned himself up with his bedside tissue. Redressing as the both of you talked.

“Let me know when you need another partner for MC. I’m more than happy to teach you more Simeon.” Lucifer said with a wink before fixing his tie and jacket and leaving the room.

“Simeon..?” You timidly watched his back as he stood to strip himself of his clothing, throwing them in a pile.

Turning around you saw he was still aroused. Still yearning for your heat.

“MC...I love you. I hope you had fun.” He sweetly cooed as he flipped you onto your back and hovered above you.

“It was fun. I hope you...enjoyed yourself too.”

His sweet kisses on your collar bone became nibbles as he pressed his hips against yours.

“You were...really sexy telling me what to do.” You admitted with a bright flush. His kisses trailed down your stomach, guiding himself down between your legs.

“I...like telling you what to do. Lucifer wanted to teach me how but I didn’t think it would be...this way.” He admitted himself. He couldn’t look at you, instead mesmerized by the sight of your entrance leaking Lucifer’s seed.

Leaning down, disregarding another man’s cum leaking from you, Simeon sucked and licked at your sensitive clit. Electricity shooting through you with even the slightest touch.

“I love you...Simeon.” You moaned out as he licked and sucked at your nub. Your legs were already shaking from having built up such a strong orgasm earlier and Simeon was bringing it back. Letting your moans fall freely, he was egged on as you continued to buck your hips against his rough tongue. His palms held your thighs to the side as he lapped at your beautiful pearl.

“I l-like it when you call me a good girl too.” You huffed out through moans. Hearing you say that made his cock twitch.

“You are a good girl MC. You’re my good girl.” He cooed against your heat.

He shifted again, aligning his already harden member with your entrance. “Do you want it? Tell me you want to be my good girl.”

“Please, I’ll be your best girl.”

With that, Simeon eased himself deep inside you. His cock stretching and pushing against your walls. His pace was even and gentle, but having him hit all of your favorite spots was making your vision see stars.

“Mn. Simeon!” He liked hearing you call his name. But he kept himself steady, making sure not to hurt you.

“MC, you feel so good...” he sighed just before kissing you deeply, letting his tongue guide yours around.

The room was quiet for a while, only the sound of skin slapping skin could be heard as you kissed and moved against him. Your hands moved to gently run through his hair as you kept kissing. Dark locks slipping through your fingers. You exchanged heated whispers of I love you’s and each other’s names as you both chased climax. Each thrust bringing you both closer together.

“Good Girl MC. I can’t hold out much longer...”

“Cum inside me Simeon. I want you to.”

Trapping your lips once more, Simeon picked up his pace, almost erratically. Your whole body was tensing and relaxing as your core finally unravel and shook though you. Feeling you clench so tightly around his shaft, Simeon spilled himself deep inside you. Both of you continued to move through your gasping moans and sighs. Once completely empty, he pulled out to watch his seed begin to leak from you.

“MC you’re so beautiful. Don’t move.”

Like you could move after such a powerful orgasm. Simeon returned with his camera, a normal occurrence in your own bedroom. Of course he has his own secret stash of pictures of you. But what made you most embarrassed was the collection of pictures of you weeping his cum. From your mouth or from your entrance, Simeon loved the way you looked with it dripping down your body.

“Simeon-!” You bashfully covered yourself after a few clicks of his shutter.

He chuckled lowly, knowing you would ultimately decide if he got to keep any of these photos. Crawling back on the bed he held you close, resting your head over his pounding heart. You held him tightly as you cuddled him back.

“I love you Simeon.” You said just before kissing him. “Do you think...we can do this at my place next time...?” You blushed at the thought of there being a next time.

He laughed lowly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Anywhere you want to be. As long as I’m there with you.”

#obey me #lucifer #simeon #+18

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baekhansol · 3 years

Text

beauty (k.ys)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : college au (kinda?), slice of life?, comfort

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 : mature

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : boudoir photographer! yeosang x plus size/curvy f!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3260 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : body insecurities, plus size/curvy reader, nudity in a non-sexual way

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 : yeosang helps show you your own beauty

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : despite the images, y/n’s skin color is not mentioned. I used these images mostly for the poses as a visual for you all! this was beta read by the lovely @sugasbabiie and part of @yutasgalaxy's Flashing Lights collab.

When your best friend suggested you do a boudoir photoshoot with your acquaintance Yeosang as the photographer, your initial answer was no. After a week of you feeling really down about your body image, she brought it up again, and eventually gave in. Yeosang told you he likes to meet his clients and get to know them before photographing them, so you met him for coffee.

You knew it wasn’t a date, but you couldn’t help feeling giddy about it. You had a crush on him for a while, but never had an excuse to get close to him. He’s so handsome, and you were about to let him see you in lingerie? The thought made you nervous. But before you could back out, Yeosang sits across from you with a warm smile, a coffee in hand.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently, noticing how you were staring into your cup of coffee. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, you know. It’s about making you comfortable,” Yeosang softly reassures you. “I know this was your friend’s idea,” he adds gently.

“I’m just… nervous, is all. I know you’re good at what you do… I’ve talked to some of your clients before… but I just… they’re always skinnier than me and prettier,” you admit, tightening your grip on your mug.

Yeosang lets out a soft laugh and pulls a folder out of his bag. “I’ve worked with men and women of all body shapes, Y/N,” he begins, opening the folder and sliding it across the table to you. “I brought my portfolio for you to look at, and everyone in there gave me consent to share these photos, of course.”

You begin looking through the photos, thankful you were in a reclusive corner of the cafe as you do so. They weren’t erotic, but sensual. You knew the images captured the beauty of each individual. They were breathtaking, and you wanted to be one of them.

“Yeosang, you’re really good at this,” you admit, continuing to flip through the photographs.

“Thank you, I try to be,” he says, smiling.

You set the date for your photoshoot, and the day came within a blink of an eye. You had met with Yeosang a few other times after the initial meeting, as he wanted you to be more comfortable with being around him. He gave you plenty of time to go over the client agreement, and you respected how thorough the document was.

Yeosang had instructed you very clearly on what to take out to wear and how to do your makeup. So, you set out your favorite pieces of lingerie, a matching set and a bodysuit, the oversized button-down he chose, and a simple mini dress. You put on foundation and did your eyebrows, but nothing else, as Yeosang requested.

When you hear a knock on the door, you pull your bathrobe around you tighter and peer through the peephole before letting Yeosang in. It was unfair how good he looked, and you tried to force the thought into the back of your mind. He had a few boxes of what you presume to be his equipment with him, and you hope he didn’t have to struggle too much to get to your apartment. You quickly open the door, letting him inside and getting out of his way.

“Hey! Are you excited?” He asks, smiling brightly as he brings his things inside.

“I’m still nervous,” you admit, shaking your head.

“Well, don’t be. I’m here, and it’ll be fun! I promise,” he says, taking in your appearance. “I’m glad you did as I asked; that will make things easier! Now, where is your bathroom?”

You quickly show him around, and he makes himself at home. He plugs in a curling iron and goes through your makeup, glancing at the lingerie you chose and the colors he should use.

“Sit on the countertop and close your eyes,” he requests.

“Okay?” you reply, sounding more hesitant than you meant.

“I’m going to do your makeup. Do you trust me?” he asks, looking into your eyes. You merely nod, trusting him and his craft.

Yeosang’s touch on your face is gentle and calming. You feel him sweeping on eyeshadow, and he soon turns on soothing lofi music as he works. You know he is blending the eyeshadow as he takes his time, and you do your best to keep your eyes close.

“Open your eyes and look up for me,” he softly requests.

You open them, meeting his intense gaze. His lips purse in concentration, and you quickly look up at the ceiling. He sweeps eyeshadow under your eyes, blending it gently.

“Do you normally heat your eyelash curler?” Yeosang asks, causing you to look back down at him.

“It depends on the day,” you admit, watching him plug in your hair dryer and heat the curler. “And how much time I have to get ready,” you add with a slight giggle.

He tests the warmth on his hand, and you close your eyes before he could ask. Yeosang curls your eyelashes, gently setting the tool down on the sink before he applies your eyeliner. You feel the pads of his fingers brushing your eyelids before he has you open his eyes for him to put on your mascara.

He smiles at you, the masterpiece he was accentuating. “Have you ever seen a video where they clean an old piece of artwork?” Yeosang softly asks, beginning to contour your face.

“Yes, I have,” you say, doing your best to stay still.

“Well, that’s what I’m doing with you,” Yeosang explains, putting blush on your cheeks and dusting your nose with it. “You already are a beautiful piece of art, and sometimes you need a new view to see its beauty,” He tells you, picking out what happened to be your favorite shade of lipstick.

You feel yourself blushing, and you glance away, unable to meet his eyes. “You think so?” you ask him quietly, your heart thumping.

“I know so,” he answers, carefully applying your lipstick. You smack your lips together, and he smiles brightly.

“I just have to curl your hair, so you can get off now and take a peek,” he says, stepping out of your way as you jump off the countertop.

You turn to see yourself in the mirror, and are awestruck. You were expecting something less modest, but Yeosang almost perfectly captured how you normally did your makeup. He did it simply but beautifully, and you couldn’t help but gape at yourself.

As you stare, you feel him taking your brush and brushing out your hair.

“Yeosang,” you murmur, meeting his eyes.

“Hmm?” he hums, raising an eyebrow as he begins to curl your hair/

“Can you do my makeup more often?” you giggle playfully.

He laughs, and you love the sound.

“Maybe,” he says mischievously, careful not to burn your hair.

You allow him to do your hair, watching him work his magic.

“There,” he cheers, adjusting your hair before giving it a light coat of hairspray. “Done,” he proudly concludes.

“Yeosang, are you sure you’re not a makeup artist instead of a photographer?” you tease.

“I’m pretty positive, Y/N,” he laughs, turning off and unplugging the curling iron.

“So I was thinking of a few different poses, and I brought some ideas with me,” He tells you, pulling out the photos. “I figured we could do a few nude ones with you under your comforter or sheets, so I won't see anything first?” he suggests, showing you the guides.

“So I basically just hold the comforter up like this?” you inquire, getting on your bed and pulling at your comforter, facing the wall as if you didn’t have your robe on.

“Yes, and then you’ll sit up more to curve your back, like,” he pauses, finding the photograph he wants before showing it to you, “this.”

You feel insecure despite his calm demeanor, and you shake your head. “I don’t want to do any nude,” you say, your voice soft.

“That’s okay then. Instead, why don’t you change into your lingerie and put the button down over it?” He suggests instead, going to grab his equipment.

You nod, your hands shaking slightly as you pick up the lingerie and button down from its place on the bed. You head into the bathroom, shutting the door as you slip into it. Your insecurities try to get you to stop and cancel the photoshoot, but you knew at the same time you would be disappointed with yourself. Instead, you button the shirt completely before coming back out of the bathroom.

Yeosang glances over at you and smiles as he finishes adjusting the lights. He turns them off and guides you towards your window, which he had thrown sheer white shades over.

“I want you to stand in front of the window like you are stretching with your arms up. Lean forward and slightly to the side,” Yeosang instructs you.

You nod and stand in front of it, letting yourself actually stretch out your spine. You lean to one side, letting your body curve more.

“Perfect, you’re a natural,” Yeosang says, and you feel your cheeks heating up again as you hear the fluttering of the camera.

“Now I’m going to have you pose on your desk chair, if that’s okay to bring it over here?” he asks.

When you agree, he easily picks it up and sets it in front of the window, his biceps flexing.

“Just sit on it as you normally would, okay?” He says, and you sit up straight. “Is it okay if I unbutton and adjust the shirt a little?” Yeosang inquires.

“Sure,” you reply, glancing up at him shyly.

He unbuttons the shirt down to below your bra, exposing the floral lace. You feel your cheeks heat up, but he adjusts the shirt to pull down onto your arms, exposing your shoulders and offering a delightful view of your cleavage and bra straps. You look down at yourself, and feel sexy from the simplicity of the new neckline.

He steps away and snaps a few photos, and you start to feel more confident in yourself.

“Now, turn sideways when you sit on the chair. I’m going to have you pose, but will you be comfortable with taking off your shirt?” Yeosang asks, stepping back towards you.

You figure that it would be a sideways view, so you nod and unbutton it, tossing it across the room to be out of the way.

“Carefully lay on your back. Can you balance on it okay?”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad,” you laugh, carefully adjusting yourself.

“Slowly lift your legs up as you lean backwards, so your head will be lowered.”

You slowly do as he says, feeling your abdominal muscles tightening to keep you balanced on the chair.

“Curve your legs with one straighter than the other,” he directs you, gently tugging your hair out from under you. “Now hold your hair slightly to show more of your torso.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Don’t move.”

The command in his voice stirred something inside you, but you do your best to ignore it. You were Yeosang’s client, and in the agreement, there were no sexual relations with him. You hear the snapping of the camera again, and see Yeosang moving to different positions to get multiple angles.

“I have a few more poses I would like you to try, okay, Y/N?” he says, and you merely nod. “You can stand up, since this one is also in the chair,” he tells you.

You carefully roll out of the chair as he explains, “I want you to climb onto the chair and be sexy about it, okay? Leaving a leg straight out with one in as you face me?”

You nod as he turns the chair sideways before carefully doing as he asks. You reposition your legs and body, and he opts to take pictures of each change.

“Are they coming out okay?” you timidly ask as he puts his camera down.

“I think so. Do you want to see?” he asks, showing you his camera and flicking through a few of what he has taken.

You look sexy, and it surprises you. “Whoa,” you murmur in shock. .

“Of course it is,” he giggles, smiling brightly. “Now, how about you change into that bodysuit?” he suggests, pointing to it.

“Sure!” you say, picking it up and going into the bathroom.

You do your best to change quickly, and you hear him moving around in your bedroom, presumably setting things up.

When you take off your underwear, you're embarrassed to find a small wet spot. You hadn’t thought your crush on Yeosang would do this to you now of all times. You groan slightly and make sure to throw them in the hamper as you slide into your bodysuit.

You come out shyly, and see a soft sheet on the floor with the lights around it.

“I think you’ve seen this pose a few times before. It’s where you lay on your back with your legs up on the wall?” Yeosang says, tilting his head.

“Yes, I have! I really like that one,” you admit, carefully sitting on the floor and resting your legs up against the wall.

Yeosang nods and continues, “Do you want to wear heels? I know some people do, but it isn’t always comfortable for everyone.”

You look up at him through your lashes and shake your head.

“That’s fine then,” he says with a smile, bending down and adjusting your hair around you.

He moves one of the lights ever so slightly before snapping more photographs. “You’re doing really well,” he praises you.

You sit back up as he goes to get something out of his bag and ask, “Yeosang, do you ever get aroused while taking these photos?”

You can’t see him freeze, but he does. “Do I what now?” he questions, pulling out some fabric and looking at you.

“Do you ever get aroused when taking photos…?” you repeat.

Yeosang sits on your bed, holding the fabric in his lap. “Normally, I don’t,” he admits. “Every now and then, yes.”

You nod, playing with the sheet underneath you.

Yeosang quickly changes the topic back to what you were doing, and you don’t notice him snap a few more pictures. “I know how you said you didn’t really like showing your arms, so I brought you this sweater,” he tells you, showing you the soft ivory sweater. “It was oversized on me, so it should be about the same for you,” Yeosang adds, gently setting it on the bed as he helps you stand back up.

You sit on the bed and carefully put it on with his help, avoiding smudging your makeup. It was cozy and soft, not too itchy. You pull your hair out of the neck of the sweater, and you hear Yeosang snap a few photos.

“The final prop I have are these,” he says, reaching into his bag and pulling out fairy lights.

“Oh?” you ask, tilting your head as he plugs them in.

“I’ve never done it before, and I’ve always wanted to play with the lighting on them,” Yeosang admits. “And if they don’t turn out well, well, at least we can say we tried,” he says with a laugh.

“What am I supposed to do with them?” you ask, smiling brightly. You were excited that he wanted to try something new with you.

“Just kind of… wrap them around you and play with them,” he suggests, picking his camera back up.

You nod and do as he says, laying down in one of the positions you had seen in his portfolio. You lay on your back with your legs bent, and you look up at Yeosang as your head bends off the end of the bed.

“Ohh, very nice,” he says, clicking away. “Now, try on your stomach with your legs up and ankles crossed,” Yeosang suggests.

As you move into position, Yeosang gently moves the lights around you so you wouldn’t be too restricted.

“Rest your head on your arms, but keep one out and face me,” he instructs, and you do just that. Yeosang gently fixes your hair, his fingers combing through it.

“Perfect, just like that,” he says, snapping more photos of you.

He set his camera back down, a bright smile on his face. “Okay, I think I’m done!” he says. “I should be able to get them back to you in two to three weeks.”

You nod and begin untangling yourself from the lights, and Yeosang quickly helps.

“You did really well, you know,” he assures you, smiling.

“Thank you, Yeosang,” you say, hesitating before hugging him.

Yeosang took longer packing up, but you didn’t mind. You begin to take off his sweater, but he stops you. “Y/N, please, keep it,” he begins.

“Yeosang, I can’t-”

“Please. It suits you,” he insists, his pleading look making you give in.

You purse your lips and instead slide on a pair of shorts before cleaning up your bathroom.

After he left, you laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. You really did just do a boudoir photoshoot with a male photographer.

Two weeks went by, then three. After the fourth week, you were beginning to worry that the photos didn’t turn out well.

When the fifth week came and went, Yeosang finally messaged you.

Yeosang: Do you think you can come over sometime this week?

You: yeah, when works for you? I’m free most of tomorrow

Yeosang: Can you come tomorrow around 8?

You: sounds good

Yeosang: see you then!

After running into traffic, you managed to navigate Yeosang’s apartment complex and find his apartment number. You adjust yourself before knocking on the door.

“It’s Y/N,” you call.

Yeosang answers it with a worried look. “Hey, are you okay? You were late,” he mentions, knowing it wasn’t like you to be this late.

“Yeah, sorry… I ran into traffic,” you explain, not meeting his eyes as he lets you in.

Yeosang nods, leading you into his studio. He ushers you to your computer, but you’re awed by the photographs adorning the walls. You recognize some as the samples, but some almost looked like yours.

“I’ve been doing my best, but I can’t seem to get them to my liking. Some of it is a matter of filters, and I can’t choose which looks best. You really are a natural,” he tells you, pulling up your file.

You were shocked by the results. You could barely believe that they were supposed to be images of you.

“Yeosang, I-” you gasp, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Yours are by far the best I’ve done so far,” he murmurs, clicking through the countless photos, some of which you didn’t know he captured.

“Yeosang, I have to ask…” you shyly murmur, your cheeks heating up. “Why did it take so long?”

This time his cheeks and ears slowly turned red. “You looked better than I thought in my sweater,” he murmurs. Noticing your furrowed brows, he continues softly, “I really liked you, even before doing these for you. It was a nice excuse to get to know you better. I know it's bad to ask former clients on dates, but…”

The question lingers for a moment, and his expression slowly turns into one of disappointment from rejection.

“Yeosang, I’d love to,” you breathlessly admit.

#ultkpopnetwork #kpopscape #kpopficsnetwork #ateez fluff #ateez comfort #yeosang fluff #yeosang comfort #yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang fanfic #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang comfort #yeosang x reader #ateez fanfic

103 notes · View notes

youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms · 3 years

Text

I’m Sorry

Request: “Bucky x non avenger reader where reader recently got a divorce due to the man cheating on her,and reader is friends with Bucky for a long time but was not able to tell him about it, until she was recently employed by Stark as an employee and Bucky encountered reader's ex with another woman?”

Word count:1124

Warnings: Language

Main Masterlist

MCU Masterlist

Y/N stared at the papers she had just gotten, on Valentines day no less. She was done with him and her name was officially Y/N Y/L/N again. She found it ironic that she went to get it changed the same day she got the papers. Now all she had to do was get a job. She couldn’t live off the money he had to give her forever.

--------

Y/N sat in the chair uncomfortably. She hadn’t actually been to a job interview since she married her ex. He hated it when women had jobs. “Ms. Y/L/N?” Y/N looked up, “Miss. Potts is ready for you. Please follow me” Y/N got up and held the portfolio in front of her. She followed the receptionist down the hall. She opened a door and motioned inside, “Here you go.”

Y/N bowed her head lightly, “Thank you.” She walked in and looked at Pepper, someone she had met a few times when her friend Bucky would drag her to Tony Stark’s parties. “Miss. Potts, thank you for taking the timeout to interview me.”

Pepper smiled, “Oh, it’s no problem Y/N. Please sit down.” Y/N did as she was asked, sitting the portfolio in her lap. “Now, I remember you mentioning you haven’t had a job in a few years. Could you elaborate and tell me how many?”

“About 5 or 6. I quit to focus on trying to have a kid with my, now, ex.”

“Right, and you have a bachelors degree in Engineering and Business?”

“Yes, I started the Business degree in High School by doing Duel Enrollment. Then I started the Engineering once I graduated High School and then got my Bachelors degree in Business.”

She nodded, “Here, I need a new assistant. One who can deal with the annoying hours that you have to put up with. I think you could be good for it. Would you like it? It pays $82,000 a year.”

“I would love that more than anything! But are you sure you don’t want to look at my resume?”

Pepper smiled, “Like I said, based on your degree’s and what I’ve heard you say at some of Tony’s parties and what Bucky has said, I’m sure you’ll be perfect for it.”

“Thank you! When would you like me to start?”

“Tomorrow if you could.”

“I can! I definitely can!”

“Good,” She handed Y/N a piece of paper and pen, “Just sign and initial where it asks to then you’re all good.”

Y/N picked the pen up and nodded, “Got it.”

--------

Y/N sat in her office that was next to Peppers as she was in a meeting. Y/N was responding to an email when her personal phone went off. She grabbed it and scrunched her face when she saw Bucky’s name. Why would he be calling her? She answered and placed the phone next to her ear, not expecting what she heard.

--------

Bucky laughed as Sam fell flat on his face. “That’s what you get for running with someone who can practically never get tired from running.”

Sam groaned and pushed himself up, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, I--” He quit talking when he saw Y/N’s husband walking out of a coffee shop with a woman that definitely wasn’t Y/N.

“Dude? What were you gonna say?”

“That motherfucker.”

“What?”

“Y/N’s husband. The fucker is with another woman.”

Sam looked over to where Bucky was glaring and his raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well shit.” He noticed the shadow next to him moving and soon saw the semi-stable 100 year old man stomping over to the other man. “Bucky! What the hell! Don’t do what I think you are!”

Bucky ignored him and walked up to the younger man. He grabbed him by his arm and made him look at him. “What the hell, man?!”

“Why the fuck would you do this to Y/N?!”

“Do what?”

“Cheat on her!”

“That was over a year ago! We’ve been divorced for almost two months!”

“What?”

“Yeah fucker. Didn’t she tell you?”

“She didn’t tell me shit.” He turned around and walked back to Sam. “She didn’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“That she was getting divorced. Or hell, that she is divorced from the fucker.”

“Damn, something Y/N didn’t tell you? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Same” Bucky pulled his phone out of his pocked and dialed his number. After it ran a few times he heard her pick up and before she could say anything he spoke, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, “What’re you talking about?”

“Oh I don’t now, maybe that you got divorced?!”

Y/N cursed under her breath, “Shit. Sorry, I forgot.”

“How the hell do you forget that you’re getting divorced?!”

“I don’t know! I guess it’s because whenever I’m with you all my worries go away. All I think about is having a fun time and actually enjoying myself.”

“You could have told me! I mean, I just made myself look like a major dick because I accused him of cheating on you!”

“Well he did! But that was why we got divorced! Listen, I’ll explain it all after work tonight, okay?”

“Wait, you got a job?”

“Yeah, I’m Pepper’s assistant. I actually thought I told you.”

“Nope.”

“Well I did. Anyways, Pepper said I’ll be off by 6 tonight, meet me at my apartment at 7. I’ll text you the building number and address.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

--------

Y/N opened the door as she heard the knock. “Bucky. Come in.” He walked in and as she closed the door he sat down on the couch. “Bucky, I’m really sorry for not telling you.”

“It’s okay.”

“But it’s not! We’ve been friends since you’ve came back and I feel like I’ve betrayed you by not telling you!”

“Hey, it’s fine. I mean, sure, I was pissed in the moment. But now I’ve realized that you couldn’t help it. I know you and I know you would never keep something like that from me on purpose. Honestly, I’m just happy that you finally left that fucker.”

“You really hated him, didn’t you?”

“Y/N, you’re the smartest girl I know and he didn’t let you show any of it. I stood by as you took test after test. Negative result after negative result. Freaking out because you couldn’t deliver, again.”

“I really am horrible for making you watch that.”

“No, I chose to be there. You needed someone and I was there. Hell, who was your date to your sisters wedding?”

“You.”

“Exactly, now I could go on a list of other times, but I wanna talk about how you’re now Pepper’s assistant. So go.”

Y/N laughed and sat down next to him, immediately talking about everything.

199 notes · View notes

choiwrites · 3 years

Text

kth | wolfgirl (m.)

Words: 10k Genre: twlight!au, it’s new moon but taetae as jacob, ur bella but you have a personality :o, oh also smut and a little angst Warnings: no protection and no fcks given, language ig?, descriptive seggs lol, vampires and all that bs if that triggers sum of yall, oral (f receiving), tae is younger than u and kind of a sub (dom tae is overdone we need change in this country) i cant think no more no thots hed mt Rating: 18+ Song: Iron & Wine - Flightless Bird, American Mouth Summary: During your stay at your Aunt's house in the wet town of Forks, you never thought the boys next door will change your perspective in how you see the world.

The weather in Washington was something you’re not used to. You can never go places without getting mud on your shoes and it takes more than your patience to clean them every time before going out. Sure, it was great to experience a different weather other than the blazing sun in Los Angeles, but it was hard to adjust. You weren’t ready for it with all the sleeveless and loose tops you brought from Los Angeles.

After months of debating with your mom, you decided it would be a great way to spend your summer vacation turning your camera focus into something more dark and cloudy. Your professor had also suggested that it would look good in your portfolio if you try different moods in photos other than the hot weather in Angeles. So, you thought about it for months before asking your mom to buy you tickets to see your Aunt Sylvia who you're currently living with for the meantime.

She was in her mid-thirties, but she looked younger than her real age. She knew how to groom and with the way she looks, she probably had that life during her high school days. You rarely see her though, you can remember all the conversations you both had. She leaves home early for her duty at the police station as an attending desk officer. Her place wasn't big, an average suburban house painted in cold tones of white and gray with dark furniture inside. It's not your typical definition of cozy. Good thing you brought your two sweaters — one with a Christmas tree embroidered on it and one with the phrase "'tis the season!" Wearing a sweater in Los Angeles only means one thing, and that is the season of giving. But who cares, it's not like anyone was going to notice, right?

About to finish the second cup of black tea, an idea pops into your mind about what Sylvia had said about the landscapes nearby the house. However, she had warned you about the risks of a few wild coyote appearances, but one could call you a junkie. There’s no fun in danger, but dangerous does rhyme with adventurous.

A cool whip of breeze enters the thin fabric of your sweater, immediately regretting stepping out of the doorstep after locking the door. As you are approaching the back of the house to enter the woods, young laughters echo through the area, lessening your fear for a bit. It must be safe if a group of teenagers are hanging out in such a secluded forest.

Unbothered by the noises, whether they were from teenagers or not, you make your way further into the woods of coppery branches on the endless verdant ground with subtle eau de nils. It’s like walking into a surreal three-dimensional render of a forest, too perfect to be right in front of your eyes.

It was quiet and serene in the woods. Aside from birds chirping, it felt like out of this world. It was an alien planet. Everything was green — the moss surrounding the place, every tree had some sort of fungi beneath it, the soil dark brown as if staring right into the earth’s eyes. The very healthy kind of earthy, and it was easier to breathe in the forest than it was in the city of Los Angeles. No wonder why they're both on the opposite sides of the country. They're literally poles apart. Being at Forks, it's as if you were able to be in a different country. It was secluded, unlike in Angeles, there are people in every place you go.

While changing the film of the camera, a strong gust of wind on your left side. So strong that your body stumbled onto the ground. You were on your knees, camera shattered as it hits a hard medium-sized rock. You break a couple of curses to the wind.

The camera looked hopeless with lenses separated from it, lying in pieces against a rock.

"What the hell was that?"

There had to be some kind of a fast animal that ran from your side, which quickens your pulse, but the devastation you felt for the camera overthrew that fear. When you caught a glimpse of the 'wind,' it was human-like. It ran around in every direction surrounding you, freezing you into place. The only thing you were able to do was to keep watching the human-like creature run in circles like lightning. You tried standing up, but it approached you in a rapid current that you fell into place again. But you couldn't see it, you weren't able to look into its eyes.

"You shouldn't be out here alone,” behind you says.

You whimper, embarrassed when the deep voice sends hums into your nerves..

"Why didn't you run?" He looks at you with knitted brows as he approaches to help you get on your feet. He’s far too attractive to be a wild coyote, you slap that stupid thought away.

"I... I didn't know what to do,” you force out, still affected by the broken camera and creeping fear.

He was around four inches taller than you. He looked about your age. Dark thick hair, with light brown irides inside his almond-shaped eyes. His skin was of a rich walnut tan, and his dark green hoodie complements that.

"You must be Sylvia's niece. I'm Taehyung,” he said in a sultry manner as he offered a hand for a handshake.

"How do you kno-"

"She told us. My family's close with Sylvia. Our mothers used to be best friends, y/n." He puts his hand back in the pocket of his hoodie.

A tinge of embarrassment brushes through your cheeks, feeling guilty that you didn't give him a handshake. But all of that is ignored when he smiles.

"Did I creep you out?"

You chuckle softly. "No, of course not. I'm just still in the moment... of processing." You ease him, as if you were able to read the tension in his undecipherable eyes.

There was a few seconds of silence before Taehyung spoke again when he noticed your camera on the ground.

"Hey, we have a technician at home, maybe he has some tools he could help you with."

He was absolutely gorgeous. You find yourself lost in his face, studying his features and every little action he does. He would look so good as a muse. If only you could capture him right now, he'd be perfect under the clouds that create shadows that contour his cheeks and makes his eyes even more mysterious.

"Don't worry, you can trust me. Sylvia knows where I live,” he adds.

Though that doesn't really solve the problem, you find yourself walking with Taehyung in the woods, drifting away from the devastation and fear from earlier.

The laughters were from them. The laughs you heard earlier before entering the woods were from Taehyung's friends. They confirmed that they were walking around the woods earlier and that they passed by your house. All looking friendly with similar doe eyes, almost like they were relatives. They were all in a circle, all of them sitting on a chunk of thick logs, dressed in a similar way. The men were younger than you, but there is a girl who's older than you. She didn't seem as friendly as the others as you notice the judging glances towards your way. She had shoulder length of hair and she was just as tan as Taehyung. Taehyung discussed each of them one by one to you, all of them introducing themselves in an endearing manner except for her. Only saying her name was Leah and that was it, which made you feel an ounce of intimidation.

"So, y/n, how long do you plan to stay?" Embry, the one with the shortest hair, asks as he plays with the two twigs he'd been digging up dirt with the moment you arrived. His color was a tad bit darker than the others. He had a grin that could steal every girl's heart. He was gorgeous. They were all just as gorgeous as Taehyung.

"Oh, one month. I have a college application to fix back home,” you answered surely. You were only here to take photos for your college portfolio, and making friends was out of the picture until today.

"Sucks for Tae, I had a feeling you could be more than a willing candidate to be his girlfriend." Everybody laughed except for you and Tae who exchanged awkward glances at each other.

"Stop it, Bry." Taehyung wanted to laugh along but embarrassment got the best of him.

"She looks so out of place. You probably party a lot in Los Angeles, don't you?" Leah gives you a stern look, seriously waiting for your response. She only wants to get a reaction from you and you weren’t the only one to get the feeling as the group feels the rising tension between the both of you.

"No, I don't go to parties. Mom is very strict." You tell her. You didn't want the group to feel that you were intimidated, after all, you wanted to befriend everyone.

"She'd be perfect for our overnight tomorrow then." She prickly grins.

"Right! Want to join us in La Push? It's the nearest beach out here. We'll have bonfires and such," Seth, the youngest one with the tiniest body (still bigger than yours), expresses in excitement. Out of all of them, Seth was the friendliest.

"I'll go talk to Sylvia for you, if you want." Taehyung raises his brows. He had been laughing quietly ever since he had brought you to meet his friends - which seems like he regrets, additionally. He was more mysterious than you thought. He didn't share much of his life during the discussion, only three things: his last name was Kim, he’s 20 years old, and he lives at the rez along with the rest of the team.

"Sure. I'll just bring my other camera." You smiled.

Taehyung said that he'll get Chase, a friend of his who wasn’t part of the circle, to fix the broken film camera. He assured that it will only be a matter of three days before the camera is all yours again. After a few more useless fun discussions, you had forgotten that the sun had settled for a while. When Taehyung realizes your face of worry, he offers to give you a ride home. Great, a ride with the wild coyote who had immediately earned your trust by rising a brow. You wouldn’t be so shocked if you end up ‘missing’ in the news in the next hours.

He owned a Chevy pick up truck. It was red, but faded, making it seem vermillion in color. It had a few dents and you were sure that it wasn't one of the smoothest rides you've ever had. But Taehyung made a few jokes about how he feels uneasy with the truck as well, only to reveal that it has been with him ever since his birth.

"It's great. Very retro." You gave him a smile to let him know that he doesn't need to feel embarrassed with his truck.

"Shut up, Y/N. I know it sucks, okay. I can't even play a single song here without a static." He laughs and you admit it.

He gave a charming wave to your window and had a small chat with Sylvia, who’s been home for hours, before leaving, probably about the La Push trip for tomorrow. Once you've changed into your pyjamas, Sylvia knocks on your door as you are about to settle in bed.

"Tae told me about the La Push camping tomorrow,” she began.

"Are you gonna let me?"

She smiles in an assuring way. You can't deny how lovely she looked with her hair down, her waves framing her heart-shaped face. "Of course, honey. You better wake up early tomorrow. Tae told me that he'll pick you up by seven." She winks and rubs your shoulder before heading downstairs.

A beach trip in a cloudy town without bringing any hoodies with you? Sounds about perfect, if you’re looking for a hypothermia attack. And you were never a morning person either so it’s a big mystery why you even agreed to go in the first place. The waking time in Los Angeles was ten in the morning. In Forks, it was seven.

When Taehyung arrived, he was wearing a black shirt and a black leather jacket, pairing it with slightly oversized pants. He looked bigger than yesterday, maybe it was the jacket that made him look buff. He waved softly before you even stepped out of the doorway. He was carrying a medium-sized paper bag with small wet stains.

"My sister made us breakfast. Just in case you didn't have enough time to prepare," he opens the car door for you and waved to Sylvia goodbye, "thought you'd take more time because you probably wake up late in the city."

“I’m somehow a little offended with that assumption,” you cooed and he replied with a stammering laugh, unsure whether to take it as a joke or not.

He fumbled with the stereo and it played better than yesterday, giving you a sloppy smile as the first chords of Creep by Radiohead plays.

"You fixed it?" You take a bite from the sandwich his sister prepared. You thank God his sister prepared it for you, your stomach would be growling by now.

"Yeah. I just didn't want us to have that awkward silence along the way." He breathily laughs.

Everything Taehyung has is beautiful. He had an amazing laugh, a deep sultry voice, and doe eyes. He's simply astonishing. You were sure that everyone he has met so far had fallen in love with him. You weren't one to deny that either.

It took around fifteen songs before the both of you arrived at the beach — thanks to Taehyung's amazing playlist. It was quiet, the weather didn't change much in the place. Still cold and dark, untouched by a glimpse of sunrise. It was windier than the rest of Forks, and you wore your Christmas sweater to at least help with the cold a bit.

It was weird to say, but Taehyung radiated heat whenever you were near him. It's like when you're not around Taehyung, you feel the coldness of Forks. His truck didn't even feel cold though his air conditioning was on, you just felt a sense of unfamiliar comfortable heat you found yourself curling in your seat minutes ago. The group welcomed the both of you except for Leah of course. Sooner or later, you knew you'd start to hate her.

"You guys are early,” you tell Embry and Paul as they greet you with warm hugs.

"Of course, we are. It's La Push, baby." Embry gives you a wink and you blush.

"Okay, Bry, I haven't had my breakfast and you're already winking." Paul fake puked and the rest of the group laughs.

They started setting up tents as Taehyung offered to take your bag when he noticed how it's weighing you down. Before he could put it in the tent, you took your digital camera and started roaming around by yourself to take pictures of the view. Astounding as you had expected. It's like you were in the middle of nowhere. Only Taehyung's friends were at the beach which was a lucky shot for you and the group.

"Set up the fire, Tae! We're having breakfast." Leah yells across the place as she places the logs in the middle of the circle the tents are built in.

Taehyung sighs loudly. "Get ready for the Quileute Tribe stories."

"You seem tired of it, you joked.

While Taehyung builds a fire with the rest of the boys, you secretly take pictures of him busy as the both of you keep talking.

"It's always the story every camping day. The Quileute Legends, you know? The scary stuff."

You knit your brows when the word ‘scary’ comes into play, bringing your camera down to take a better look at the almost sweaty Taehyung.

"Scary stuff? How scary? Thrill me." You weren't aware as to how much Taehyung also studies your features. He wanted to know you better, but he was afraid of scaring you away by asking too many questions. It had always been his issue, scaring people away from him. And this time, he didn't want to let you in like the others, he just wanted to be acquaintances. But the more he spends time with you, the more he wants to be near you as if there were magnets pulling you together.

"I don't know what would thrill you, y/n. But the world is darker than you think, it's not always safe." He gives you a look. It was impossible. You were five feet away from him, but you could almost see your reflection in his eyes. It was too comforting. You were devoured by his eyes, falling steadily into his charms.

"I know. It's just as scary in L.A., I mean," you gulped, "crime is everywhere. Can't really stop it." You explained.

"It's not always crime that's scary, y/n. I'm talking unexplainable things." He smirks.

"Like paranormal?" You gaze away from him, starting to take pictures of the beach. But no matter how hard you try to distract yourself from Taehyung, your eyes keep falling on him.

"More than paranormal. Ghosts are easier to believe in."

You inhaled sharply. "I mean those are just legends, right? What's with the obsession in the Qui-Quileute Tribe?" You struggled pronouncing the word.

"It's not me. It's a tradition." There was a moment of silence before you could think of what to say again.

"Delete my pictures by the way." He scoffed.

"I thought you didn't notice."

"I was posing."

You laugh at his joke, still certain you're never deleting any of his pictures, most definitely the one when he accidentally looked at the camera.

"You look sort of beautiful in the camera." Your lids flutter like a high school girl. “Not just in the camera, I mean… haha.”

He stares at you in confusion, and somehow you always find yourself frozen and embarrassed whenever he looks at you. "Sort of beautiful? You're more naive than I thought." He removes his jacket and throws it on the log nearby, revealing his buff body. You look away in discomfort, you didn't want to find yourself checking him out. "I'm not what you think I am. And I don't think you want to know."

"Maybe I do." You point the camera towards him and take a shot of his reaction. You wink.

The clouds hovering above the clamorous sea tell that there's probably rain coming, but it seems like the group wasn't bothered by it at all. You were sitting next to Taehyung two feet away from you on the logs nearby the fire that Seth had given up trying to help making after a couple of failed attempts. His heat never failed to linger around you though.

Sam was discussing the Quileute Legends and the group was very fascinated with the story, even though Taehyung had confirmed earlier that they've already heard the story too many times from their own families. Sam was good. He had a way in telling stories. You find yourself actually believing the legends. Werewolves and vampires? Shapeshifters and Children of the Moon? You weren't one to believe in such fantasies. You liked to watch historical movies more than fairytales, but with the way Sam elaborated every part of the legend, you can't deny the shiver that you felt when he discussed the cold ones.

Fast like lightning. Beautiful and alluring. Undead without a soul.

You thought it was ridiculous for Sam to even give out a warning about the cold ones. You were suppressing your laugh a little bit, and you were sure Leah already had her eyes on you. Why would Sam give out a warning about the cold ones? It's not like they were actually real. He also mentioned a treaty. And he sounded pretty serious about it too, even Taehyung was carefully listening. All of their eyes were on Sam, except for Leah.

Sam talked about a specific family of the cold ones, that they proposed a treaty. These cold ones are not allowed to hurt anybody from Forks, or else the mentioned werewolves are allowed to pose a fight with them. He talked about it like it was a plan.

It was afternoon and the clouds were still as thick as it was in the morning, but rays of sunlight shone through the gaps between the dark clouds. It looked ethereal, an aesthetic you'd only see in paintings. You thought those paintings are only manifestations of amplified emotions of the painter, but here you are, smiling to your camera as you take hundreds of shots.

"Save some memory for the other landscapes," Taehyung says beside you, throwing pebbles to the water, each bouncing impressively for three times.

"I know, I just can't get enough of this. You don't see that in L.A." You pointed your index finger towards the horizon of the sea.

"Yeah, but at least you can swim in LA. It's too cold out here to even go for a swim,” he emphasized.

"Not when you're around. It's weird, but I feel like you have a fever. You're too hot."

He raises his brows . "I know I'm hot," he chuckles.

"I didn't mean it like that,” you protest, though you know for a fact, Taehyung right. If he were to live in L.A., he'd be escorted many times by a modeling agency.

"So, I'm not hot?" You knew he was teasing and your embarrassment was obvious enough because of the blood rushing through your cheeks.

"You're attractive. I'm sure you know that." You roll your eyes, trying to keep everything casual — which is getting harder and harder every time he's around.

"No, I don't,” he teased. He was obviously getting pay back on you for taking candid shots of him earlier.

Your eyes landed on Sam and Emily play-fighting in the sea, just the sight of them being happy made you feel a bit of a heartache. You were a sucker for romance. The boys told you earlier that they were engaged for three months now. Leah was Sam's ex-girlfriend and Emily was Leah's ex-best friend. Finally putting the pieces together why Leah was one of the hardest to be with. She was extremely hurt and broken. She would rather shut the world out rather than let anybody in. She would rather be alone, than find anyone again who could possibly hurt her.

"Look," you poked Taehyung who was too busy throwing pebbles, "Sam and Emily are swimming. We should too!"

Though you were shivering, you bravely took off the mustard jacket that Taehyung had let you borrow. You were left with your thin brown tank top and denim shorts. He's still in his black shirt, unbothered to even take it off nor his jeans.

"What are you doing? Let's go." You tell him as you walk towards the sea.

This was a bad idea. It felt like ice was draping all over your body. How can Emily look like she's having fun when you're over here freezing just by stepping into the water? Half of your body was shivering from the wind, the lower half was for sure numb. You wanted to slap Taehyung for taking so long to get in with you, and you weren't even sure why you were so desperate for him to get in with you. It's not like he had a heater with him.

It took Taehyung a few more seconds before he started taking his shirt off, revealing his caramel skin, but it wasn't his color that caught your eyes, it was how built he is. His body looks like it was sculpted by the most talented and precise sculptor. It was defined, and shadows are doing magic in giving it silhouettes in the right areas. The best part about it was how shy he was taking off his clothes, like a teenager getting ready for his first swimming lesson.

He was for sure planning to swim today, revealing the gray trunks he’s wearing underneath his jeans. He needs a bigger one that fits him better, because the trunks he's wearing isn't doing him any justice.

Okay, no. Maybe it was justified by a subtle outline of his —

Don't even look down there, y/n, you tell yourself.

You didn't know where to focus. His thighs were just as eye-catching as his abs. Just as toned and thick. It would be such a material for thigh riding, you thought and you quickly shake your head at the idea. It has to be the waters that did this to you. Time has never been more relevant when he was walking towards your way, as he scoops water with his hands to wet his hair, while biting his bottom lip and giving you a small smile after.

"Freezing?" He smiles, eyes pierced on your small body. You were hugging yourself, embracing yourself from the fact that if you let go of your hands, you might touch something else.

"You were taking so long."

He chuckles before holding your arm, taking it off your body. "Come on, dip your whole body." He pulls you softly towards the ocean, the sound of walking through water comforting your ears.

He was a foot away from you, the water level was on his chest and so was yours, but slightly higher. He looked even more godly. His hair pushed back, and to see his face in its entirety was a blessing, a gift.

None of you dared to talk, and you thought it was better that way. You just get to stare at him, as the sunlight lands itself upon his bronze eyes with specks of gold if you would close enough, majestic indeed to see something like that once in your life. You'd wish to wake up to that every morning.

There was this comfortable silence between the two of you. Drops of water fall under his eyelashes, fluttering them as he struggles to stare back at you. The moment was ruined when he suddenly smiled and looked towards Embry and Paul. Embry was sitting next to Paul, staring at the both of you while laughing. You shrug, feeling invaded.

"Why? What is it?" you asked Taehyung.

"They're thinking ridiculously."

You furrow your forehead. "How do you know?" He tightens his hold around your arm as he keeps you steady near him, aware of you struggling to touch the floor.

"I just know," he softly plants circles on your arm with his thumb, "trust me."

"Maybe we shouldn't stand too close to each other then. I think they're making a big deal out of it." You didn't want to come off feisty, but you guessed it went that way for Taehyung as he moved away from you without letting you go.

"No, they're not. They're just teasing." When he said that, it was like he only said it to get near you, to assure you that it was okay to be close to him like that.

"Still cold?" he asked.

"Not so much anymore." You muttered. There were so many questions you wanted to ask Taehyung, but your voice isn't very trustworthy at the moment. You know it will betray you the moment you open your mouth.

"Penny for your thoughts? Why did you want to swim?" His voice was soft, calming as the ocean.

"I wanted to test how warm you can make me, even in freezing water."

He laughs breathily. "Seriously?"

You nod. He wanted to tell you a lot about himself, but like you, he was just as scared. Skinny dipping wasn't really your thing, especially in cold water, so after a few more moments of swimming and small talks with Taehyung, you let yourself dry by sitting next to the tent, keeping yourself busy by viewing all the pictures you took.

It was four in the afternoon, and the sun looked like it was already setting. Time was almost irrelevant at Forks, you wake up and the next thing you know, you're already getting ready for bed. Even though today was quite eventful, the clock still ticked quickly.

Feeling dry enough, you walked to the other side of the beach, Embry had mentioned that there was a cliff nearby along the woods. Though Taehyung was busy drying himself and laughing with the others, he glanced your way as you were heading towards the woods. You lifted your camera so he knew what your motive was, and he flashed a sly smile.

Trees. Cliffs. Birds.

The place could be a haven for the National Geographic Channel.

"I thought the pack wouldn't ever leave you alone like this." A deep voice spoke behind you, his english accent was thick and strong. You were sure that if you turn around, he’ll be ten feet away from you. You regret blinking your eyes, because the next thing you knew, he was right in front of you. His expression with so much thirst, so much hunger. For what?

You only inhaled sharply, first thing coming into your mind, confusion overpowering your nerves. You examined the man before you quickly. Olive skin, dark ruby eyes. His skin was inhumanly shiny, he almost looked dead, but in a mesmerizing type of way. He had dark purple circles, but his eyes were beautiful enough to distract you from it. He mirrored a cement under sunlight, he had fragments of diamonds and glitters on his skin. It wasn't your brain consuming you but his visual, his aura.

"Didn't bring your dog with you?" You weren't sure what he meant. He takes a step forward to lean into your ear, and your feet beg to stay, your eyes staring deeply in his beauty. You were too engaged, everything about him had you in place.

"You smell different from the others. Are you aware of that?" His breath touched your skin and there the exact opposite of heat seeping in your skin. “La tua cantante. I can hear your blood flowing through your veins. I can hear your heart. It's beautiful." He sniffs your neck as he hisses.

He wasn't human, and this time you were sure. He had danger lingering in his eyes, but it dressed so captivatingly beautiful, you found yourself lost.

"It won't hurt, I promise. It will be just a tiny bite, you won't even feel it."

There were words coming out of your mouth, you swore that. But nothing, your mouth still and close. It's sort of like he had power upon you, controlling and manipulating your body to be a mannequin.

"Shh, don't fight it. You won't win over me." His teeth were grazing on your neck, seeking for a soft spot. You were unsure of his nature, what could he be?

An alien from this alien planet? An experiment gone wrong that escaped from a lab, perhaps? Maybe a demon, or an angel. A greek god of some kind?

They were all terrifying.

At the corner of your eye appeared a shirtless Taehyung, but he didn't look like himself. He was red, smoke flaring around his body. His chest expanded by time, and when you felt a small sensation of sharpness on your neck, Taehyung jumped towards the man.

No, it can't be.

This isn't Taehyung. Taehyung was gone. Maybe you were imagining things, but you felt all of them happening in front of you. As the man got distracted, your senses came back, falling on your side from losing balance. You pushed yourself away from the two monsters, as you would describe it. This wolf was huge, enormous. Any man who would try to fight it will easily lose. It stands almost seven foot, three bears wide.

Without trying, the creature had already decapitated the man. You weren't sure how to feel — safe or worried — but you were sure that you are mortified, and your face clearly expresses that.

You were only moving away from this huge thing in front of you, maybe that'll help you escape. But you don't even know if you wanted to escape. A part of you believes that Taehyung is inside that wolf, maybe eaten alive, or a spirit.

So much for the wild coyotes, thanks for the heads up Sylvia.

Your eyes met his. Dark bronze eyes with specks of gold if you look close enough. You could almost see yourself in them, they were that kind. His eyes had a message for you, to approach him, to pet him, that it was okay and he will never hurt you. Before your hand could land on his lowered head, Sam and the others came running to help you, obviously seeing the wolf, but not even being bothered like you were.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Sam helps you stand on your feet.

Sam and the wolf had some kind of connection. Sam stared at it and the wolf left.

"So, wolves are normal here?" you spoke with a weak voice.

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, thinking of how he can explain what just happened. You know that he knows something, and he was struggling to tell it.

"Where's Taehyung?" You scan their faces with no sign of Taehyung.

Holy shit! The wolf ate him! you thought. All you want to see right now is Taehyung. To prove himself. He can't be that wolf. The wolf must have eaten him. It is far too impossible for Quileute Legends to be real.

"We should get going before the other cold ones get here." Sam assists you to get back in the tents, completely ignoring your state of bewilderment.

Maybe it's a Forks thing to be mysterious and quiet. It irks you so much that none of them are even acknowledging what happened. This would be a great story for your mom.

Hey, Mom. Just wanted to call to tell you about how great my day was. So Taehyung, right? Aunt's neighbor, really hot guy I'd totally fuck, got eaten by a werewolf. But that's not too crazy, an incredibly beautiful medieval British man held me hostage, telling me he wanted to suck my blood. What a Forks thing! And everybody saw this huge tall wolf, I'm talking as big as a shelf kind of wolf, but they all acted like it was some puppy leaving the scene. Anyways, Mom, I'm traumatized. Going home in a week.

There is no way you can paraphrase that. No way you can make everything happening right now to sound normal at least one bit. This must be normal in Forks, but this is some Hollywood work in LA already. Things like these don't happen unless there was a shoot next door.

"Hey, you okay?" Leah approaches you. Her concern is seemingly genuine.

"I'm alive, guess I am okay. Where's Taehyung?" You don't bother to look at anyone at all, you drive your attention to the waves landing on the beach, hoping you could synchronize your breathing with them.

"Taehyung's fine. You don't have to worry about him."

"I saw him there. He was... he was red! Like he was burning! And... and there was smoke. Then I blinked, then there's a wolf. I swear it ate him!" Leah looked at you with wide eyes, but her lips were shaking trying to hide a smile.

"You're not taking me seriously! That wolf killed that guy! I don't know. He sounded British!" Leah bit her lip. "That was horrifying. I saw its head removed, there was no blood! What was that?" Leah inhaled sharply before looking at you with assurance.

"Can you calm down? The wolf you saw, don't you think it was described like the one in the legends?" Leah almost shouted, yet still controlling her laugh.

"Shapeshifters? Those are legends, Leah! The wolf ate Taehyung!"

She chuckled. "No, they are real," she protested.

"The British man there was a cold one, a literal vampire. Taehyung didn't kill him, he was already dead."

No.

"Shut up, Leah. I know you hate me, but this is no time for jokes."

She laughs harder. "You're right about me not liking you, but I'm not joking. That dark brown werewolf is Taehyung. One and only Taehyung. 20 year-old Taehyung who lives at the rez. That Taehyung."

'The world is darker than you think. It's not always safe.'

Taehyung had already given you clues from the start. But a word from Leah wouldn't be enough to stop your mind from going everywhere. You needed to hear this from Taehyung.

It was twilight already and the group had decided to spend the night in their cabin, instead of the beach. Sam explained that it was for your safety which until now he hasn't elaborated yet. Emily offered newly baked muffins, but it was too late before you could grab one when all the boys devoured around them. You gave Emily a smile.

"You can have the next batch." She shied away.

Emily looks like an average girl next door. She had fringes and medium length hair, they were very flat. Her skin was like the others, tan and healthy-looking. One thing you haven't examined deeply about her were her eyes. Embry had told you once that staring at Emily would bother Sam, and when you first saw her, you knew immediately why. She had a scar on one of her eyes, they looked painful. It looks like a cat scratch, only if that cat was a lion. It covered half of her face, but that didn't stop her from being lovely. She was still pretty in every way.

Taehyung arrives at the cabin, looking at everybody except you, his body resting on the door frame. He was heavy-breathing like he just finished a race. Sam came after him, giving him a small pat then walking towards Emily. Taehyung's eyes remain on the floor. His actions were complicated. You haven't figured him out yet.

"Y/N, Tae, maybe you can talk outside alone." Sam smirks at Taehyung, and Taehyung smiles back.

'This is no time to be smiling!'

Taehyung finally looks at you before leaving the door and you follow. But he still hasn't talked. And your rage is piling up inside you, you finally take a step forward.

"Care to explain what the hell happened there? I thought you were swallowed by that — that thing!" He gulps, stopping his tracks and turning around to see your face.

"I was scared," you muttered.

He totally understood why you were scared. Because he was just as scared and confused as you when he first discovered who he was, and just like you, he chose to deny it in every way he can, and he hoped that denial can make a change.

"You're not supposed to know about this. I didn't want to put you in this position — of knowing what truly there is." His eyes are sad, like he was a missing child.

The same day Taehyung figured out what he was, his eyes looked exactly the same; with fear, agony, and deprecation.

"So, you're a werewolf?" You felt his pupils dilate.

He looked at you in disbelief as if he hadn't given enough clues yet.

"Werewolf. Shapeshifter. Monster. Dog. Whatever you call it, it wasn’t my choice." His voice was weak, almost ashamed of what he had just said.

"And you kill —"

"Vampires." He finishes your sentence before you could assume. "Just vampires. The cold ones? Those that violate the treaty? They’re real." And so the legends were correct and real, and the evidence stands right in front of you, breathing and staring at you.

But no matter what angle you look at him, he wasn't a monster. He is not what he is described in the fairytales. He wasn't a merciless creature, not even harmful. He was just this young boy who lived near you.

"I get that you're afraid of me. Trust me, so am I."

"I'm not scared of you. If it weren't for you I would be bloodless by now." You bit your lip. "But I'm still a little overwhelmed." You gulped.

He had no words, but he was relieved. And you knew that when his eyes twinkled, the kind he gave you when you were jamming to the songs he had in his truck.

"If it's okay for you, I'm inviting you and Sylvia to my birthday tomorrow. It's just a small gathering."

"Will there be drinks?" you kid.

"Sam doesn't really want me taking any drinks for the meantime." He chuckles.

"Why not?"

"He said that I can't be on alcohol during my first six months of phasing. Why? Do you drink?" he innocently asks.

"Was just teasing." You playfully pushed him before proceeding to walk back in the cabin.

Before you even knew it, Taehyung was irrevocably infatuated with you. He wouldn't have thought that a college girl would give a small attention to someone younger than her, or even finding out about who he truly is and still staying by his side. He had spent so much time denying who he was, but maybe being a werewolf isn't so bad after all, if phasing is what it takes to protect you or anyone at all.

You were just like what he thought you would be — kindred spirits.

The party isn’t filled with loud chats and crowds, it is a gathering. Taehyung tried his best to always stand by your side to give you ease in enjoying such an unfamiliar place as Sylvia gets indulged in conversations with the others, completely forgetting you. Every minute though, he'd have to leave you alone on the couch but he'd return as soon as he can.

There weren't much talks between you and him either, only a couple of smiles exchanged whenever Embry and Quil do something embarrassing in front of the both of you.

It seemed as if the night was the longest night of your life, only occupied with listening to others’ stories and Taehyung sipping a punch from his red cup. He had asked a few questions to keep things interesting, but it was hard to keep the mood flowing. You had asked about his hobbies and all the boring stuff you could think of, and surprisingly he would reply with enthusiasm like he have always wanted to be asked those questions. This makes you more curious how his daily life goes, how many people does he actually talk to.

When the hand of the clock drops at ten, you were just patiently waiting for Sylvia to get on her feet and cut the conversation with the others but she seemed to have consumed more alcohol than she could tolerate and the next thing you knew she was laughing like a maniac. You were stuck in a loop circle of smiling so thinly to everyone you get eye contact with.

You distract yourself with admiring the intricate designs of Taehyung's small home, and the thought of a young Taehyung growing up in where you're sitting currently makes your heart jolt. It's uplifting seeing his pictures on the wall, but there was a difference between his smile before and his smile now. One can easily tell which was more true. You had no clue what it's like to be his kind, hell even now you still can't believe what he is. But it sure shows in the way he had changed judging from the innocent photos that hang on the wooden walls. You've never known him since then, yet you wanted to restore this angel-being beaming at the sight of a camera who now hates being in photos because he thinks he's some sort of a monster.

You wanted to ask him about the pictures, the one where he was wearing a towel with a headband, the one where he was framing his face. All of them speak some kind of connection with you, maybe it's your love for photography that makes you feel this way, but innocence is one of the hardest thing to lay your lenses on.

Then you finally got it. What your professor was talking about, drawing something intangible to your camera. This is what he meant. Your gallery is only filled with landscapes, mostly the aesthetic of architecture and nature. Taehyung is what you needed to change the mood of your photos, not the weather, not the dark ambience of Forks, but his story. If only there's a chance for you to grasp his mystery in a single picture, his adventurous smile in one flash.

A pang of pain in your forehead pulls you back into reality, and the lights that stood above you only made it worse. You needed to leave immediately before the pain has you grunting. Welcomed with a wrapping breeze, you brace yourself and regret wearing the dress Sylvia begged you to wear. She said it was her favorite when she was your age, a Prussian blue dress that stops before your knees with tulle around the hem and a lighter blue ribbon on the chest.

Of course Taehyung who sits beside you would notice your leaving, and before you can inhale the fresh air from the porch, he was already asking what's wrong.

"I don't feel so good. I think I'm gonna have to go home alone since Sylvia's still occupied," you said, pushing on your temples with your thumb and middle finger.

"I can drive you home. I don't think they'd notice that we left, they're all pretty wasted." He chuckles, complementing the high tones of the strong wind that travels past your bodies.

"I'm really sorry. I'm being rude, I mean this is your party... your birthday party and you're going to drive me home."

He places the sippy cup on a coffee table near the entrance, and he was palming his pocket to reach for his keys.

"It's fine, y/n. The party's been dead four hours ago and I can't send you home alone. Do you have the house key or should I go back inside and ask Sylvia for it?"

"She gave me a duplicate. I think it's best we go now. My head's really killing me."

It was unusual, headaches. They rarely come to you since you monitor your phone usage and water intake. You hate getting them because you hated taking meds for it, and you just hoped Sylvia would have a stock of it. Your fingers have been roaming your forehead for a while yet you can't seem to navigate where the pain is, where it's beating. It would be better if you could massage it along the ride but you were struggling to even keep your fingers raised.

Taehyung stops the car in the middle of somewhere as you are hitting your head continuously on the head rest. It was quiet, a deafening silence that rang your ears that brought you to open your eyes. Taehyung wasn't in his seat anymore, only fog filling for his place crawling under your skin.

There was your breathing, crickets, and rustles of trees that travel the air. You weren't sure how to react but one was definite, you were scared. The hand resting on your thigh turning white and wet, breathing faster and heavier as the air seems to be corrupted with toxic poison that does nothing but suffocate you.

Don't get out of the car, don't get out of the car, you chant internally hoping it will help your situation.

"Hello, dear," a slinky voice says through the window, almost similar to the man— vampire from yesterday. Could it be? Could there be more? "Don't make me wait, dear. Open the door and make this easy for the both of us, hm?"

It sounds the exact same as the accent the man had with an alluring tone that draws you to open the door. However, it wasn't just her tempting attempt into convincing you to endanger yourself, the pain in your head inflates as you try to control yourself.

"You want it hard, my dear?" She smirks, you weren't sure but you hear the spread of the corner of her lips.

Then she was in front of the headlights, filled with rage, her eyes dark and dangerous as she showed her predacious teeth. From here, you can feel the vibration of her anger as if she had the ability to let you feel all the harnessed emotions inside her. You can count them one by one: anger, vengeance, and the feeling you get before success. None of them were positive emotions, none of them was mercy. She came here to accomplish one thing.

Your death.

Finally understanding it, inside her browbeating eyes were agony and mourning. She was here to avenge the death of the vampire that Taehyung had killed. She was as beautiful, as seductive with her pale skin and ruby lips, curly strawberry blonde hair that flows until her shoulders.

You discovered that there was a split second of slow agonizing memory of your life before it's taken, and you wished there was none. She runs towards you, careless whether she bashes her head into the glass. She takes your neck, her fingers poking specifically at the sides and right before you can regain your breath your eyes open.

Gasping and catching air, awakening in the seat with Taehyung by your side who drives in silence as Midnight Rambler by The Rolling Stones plays from his rusty stereo.

So if you ever meet the midnight rambler

I'm coming down your marble hall

Well, he's pouncing like a proud black panther

Well, you can say I, I told you so

He sits there, unaware of the chaos that repeats in your head. It all felt so real, the grasp on your neck that locks your throat, you could've sworn you've given your last breath. The pain had stopped, replaced by dizziness that you knew would pass as minutes go by.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is there something on my face?"

You shake your head. "I didn't know I was staring."

That's right. You didn't know you were staring. There was so much comfort in knowing he never left, the heat of his presence brings you a feeling of security. It's okay now. Taehyung's still here. By your side.

Once reaching home, Taehyung does his best to assist you as though you were ill. It's cute how he acts that way, so careful, so gentle. Upon reaching your room, Taehyung stops before your bedroom door, almost waiting for an invitation.

"I should get going now. I'll tell Sylvia you felt sick." And before he could say good bye, you're already wrapping yourself in the blankets as he passively makes a step away from your door.

"Taehyung," you said, reaching out. "Thank you for today."

He doesn't turn back. "You're welcome. Also, thank you for coming."

A shiver spreads across your back when your lids start to fall, and your body jolts upwards. The beautiful woman from the early nightmare visits your mind again, her face inches from yours close to ripping it apart.

"Taehyung," you whispered, but he heard you within the thin walls of the lonely house. "Can you... stay for a sec? I... I had a nightmare earlier... felt so real. C-can you?"

He walks back, eyes landing everywhere except your body that waits for him on the bed. Is she serious? he thought as you opened the blankets for a space behind you.

"Until you fall asleep?"

You nod. He kicks off his shoes and he positions himself behind you, both of your breaths synchronizing as he lies down softly. You bury your cheek into the pillow when you feel his warmth wrap the room, the security coming back. You turn your head to see him watching you inches away, his hand keeping his head up as he rests his cheek against it. You take his free hand that lies on his right side, pulling it to your stomach requesting for him to scoot closer until his body brushes your back.

You can stay like this, for longer than you can imagine. Just the sounds of your breaths and the hums of his loud thumping heart that makes its way to your upper back, the release of breath from his nostrils that flies over your hair. Peaceful. Safe and sound.

In his embrace, you forget everything: the packing for Los Angeles, the fear of not getting into any university, the supernatural that you had discovered that you still cannot comprehend, the clouding fear that something is coming to get you. In his arm, it's like they never existed. The worries are nothing but disappearing sea foams, a water in heat that evaporates into thin air.

You enclose the hold in Taehyung's hand above your stomach, intertwining them for ease. Falling back into his embrace, he subtly moves away hoping you wouldn't notice. His warmth turning into heat, breathing ragged, hold on you tighter and stronger. Then you feel it, a gentle thrust behind you and he pretends to adjust position. He pulls you closer with the hand on your stomach and you sigh which caused a poking at your butt.

You may not be the smartest person on earth, but it doesn't take a book to know what it was. Taehyung murmurs an apology, his words passing by your neck which sends your stomach into a spiral. You rub your thighs together hoping to dissipate the throbbing in your core, not now.

Not now that Taehyung's beside you. Or maybe it should be now that Taehyung's beside you, you were open for a helping hand. His hand over your head tucks a strand of your hair, the finger brushing on your temple made your aching much harder to ignore. There would be no distraction, no having to worry about who will hear the both of you, for God's sake the house was built in the middle of nowhere, so you thought 'Fuck it.'

You tug his hand to the middle of your chest, to rest them between your breasts as your head turns to face him. He gulps, looking at you intently with lust hovering over his hooded eyes. You lean towards him, your lips reaching his and he pulls away for a second before diving back in. He had pillowy lips, and if it weren't for your hot need at the moment you would let your lips sleep on them for a longer while, but as of right now there are a lot of tensions that need handling.

You leave his hand on your chest while he's still shy to grope one of your breasts. Your hand then wrapping the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, he sighs. That sigh caused the aching to grow, shaking your behind to feel how needy he was and he sighs again. His hand that was on your chest now pushes below the curves of your breasts to pull you closer, to have more friction, to thrust into you.

Until he couldn't take it anymore, he wants you below him as much as you want him on top of you. He hovers above you, his knee swift in spreading your thighs open and he is bucking in a steady pace on your clothed entrance.

"Take me, Taehyung," you breathe the second he leaves your lips.

He takes it slow, burning your insides, as his fingers pull the bow on your chest, untying the effortless knot you had made in the mirror. Too slow to keep up with your throbbing heat, you trail his hand to open the loose front, exposing

your nude bra. His eyes are pinned on yours, and you would make quick glances at his moderate hand you're directing. You unclasp the front of your bra, and when he hears it setting on the bed, he kisses you as if asking if you were really sure. Beneath the feverish endless kiss were words of fear from him, what if he wasn't truly ready.

The last time he had experienced this was long ago, a time before he knew how dangerous he could be. Careless of what his hands could bring, when he hadn't given a single thought for any of his actions. Well, it was one time, only once with the first girl he had ever loved. And the first was always the quickest, but it was unforgettable, he had kept every detail of her daisy fresh skin remembered under his fingertips. The laughs they had shared in between, a significance of the innocence they were about to lose. His head loses in doubts, questions that can only be answered if he risks hurting you tonight.

Then you whisper, "It's okay, you're not going to hurt me." Because in your mind, that was the last thing in his abilities. You smile, "It's okay." Rubbing circles at the back of his trembling hand, his jaw clenches.

Once he had started kissing you again, you parted his lips with your tongue in which he had replied with a tender bite causing you to moan within your throat. This motivates him to grope your breast, aggressing as seconds pass by, pulling a nipple in between his fingers and you arch your back. You rest your feet on his back, synchronizing with the movement of his hips. You admire the way his head moves downward, stopping after every inch of your skin to place a soft kiss until he reaches your breasts to which he places a long stripe lick moving from one bud to another while his eyes remain on yours. He's going to be the death of you.

You pant, trying to reach his hips that came to a halt. His hands pushing the hem of your dress higher, stopping at the middle of your waist. And his evil slow hands, still taking his time, move behind your thighs to pull them away from his back and placing them on his shoulders as he gets comfortable right between them. With gaze pierced on yours, he flats his lips on your clothed slit, tracing the wet spot visible in your white underwear. The thought of you being almost naked underneath the dress ever since earlier brought Taehyung into insanity, he could've fucked you with his fingers on the couch, he could've removed them and left your pussy out in the open as he keeps it in his pocket, he could've done so many things if only he knew earlier how much you'd wanted him just the same.

You look at the empty ceiling, too affected by the darkness in his stare, you were scared you would cum too quickly if you remain watching. He pulls your garment upward to put his bare thumb against your clit, until you couldn't take it and you look down again to see him putting the said thumb in his mouth. Sweeter than the cranberry juice he'd been tolerating to drink, adding that to the list he could've done earlier while your panties were in his pocket; enjoying the sweet fervor of your cunt on his tongue. He plays at your clit, tongue curling to lap up the wetness that increases as his spit mixes in. He knows so well what he's doing, the fragile scoop of his bottom lip from your opening to your clit where he stops.

Everywhere around his lips glistens as the bright light from the hallway outside your room shines upon them. His hands still holding your thighs steady, he slips his tongue inside you which has you shaking and he had to adjust the control in his grip. Once they've settled, he puts his touch above your breasts, flicking both buds in each hand.

You were crumbling under him, desperate for release, grunting in a throaty voice as you tried to keep yourself together. Tears huddle in your eyes, blurring your vision until he stops, now smiling above you while he pulls your underwear away from your body. It doesn't take long for him to get naked and you take time to admire his build. His skin was made of honey, toned and reflective of the warmth he emits. His cock slapping his tummy before he could fully get out of his tight boxers, his tip reaching his button.

He returns to his position between your thighs but this time around he was the one to wrap your legs around his waist. His shaft falls between your slit and he makes subtle movements in burying himself between them.

"I just want to say," he began, "how amazing you are." A gravelly moan of your name escapes his lips as you take matters in your own hand, thumb going over the head of his cock while the rest of your fingers rest wraps his cock.

He thrusts into your hand. His face forming wrinkles, frustration painted across his face. Until he falls on both arms caging your head, bucking for more friction, enjoying the suppleness of your touch. He was groaning, panting, and making a mess of himself to which all echoes from one wall to another. You put a hand on his abdomen to break his movement. He obeys, feeling you part yourself for his cock, torturously slow in entering you.

You pull your hands to your sides, getting a hold of Taehyung's biceps. Opening your lids to watch his pupils dilate as he rams the rest of his length inside your beating entrance.

"Y/n," he groans, brow knotting together when you clench around him. He's going to fall apart, he thought. You wrap him tighter, letting go of yourself in ecstasy, careless whether you melt into the bed or break it, all is well as long as you're looking into his eyes.

He chants your name again and again in a symphony of continuous moaning, and all you could say is how good he sounds. A compilation of ah's and oh's whenever he reaches your spot, his head brushing against it and it felt like nothing but heaven. More, he wants more, if only he could fuck you endlessly he would. The bed hits the wall in coordination of his sharp thrusts, and he's losing himself in you he couldn't care less if he breaks the walls. In sync with the sounds he makes were your gasps and high-pitched whispers of his name that he can see himself in the near future thinking of them and fucking himself alone in his room as he recalls them.

"Tae— oh fuck, Taehyung," you cried out causing his cock to twitch inside you, you call out for more. His name and a couple of curses were the only words you could spew out. Trembling, you feel an explosion of euphoria inside you, letting go of the tight grip around Taehyung's arm.

With one last fluid thrust, he pulls himself out and spills himself on top of your stomach. Both of your breathing slows until they were no longer audible. He rolls to his back beside you waiting to cool down and you take care of yourself by wiping his cum away with the tissue from the nightstand.

"I'm sorry, I made a mess," he says, breaking silence.

You didn't reply, instead you lie on your side to face him and wrap his cock in your warm hand. His cock still hard and wet under your touch, he breathes out a long sigh. "I made a mess of you too."

He chuckles before placing one last kiss on your forehead, and you watch him fall into his dreams. You shut the door, thankful Sylvia didn't come home during the circumstances earlier. You make a note not to leave it open next time.

Next time? Were you actually hoping for a next time? It's not long until you're leaving. Forks is not your home. Your home is on the other side of the country, and everything you grew up with awaits there. Forks is not your home, you tell yourself. The night grows along with your need for sleep, falling onto Taehyung's chest and getting lost in a slumber. You wake to Sylvia opening the door, an indication of her coming home, and you fall asleep again.

The next time you wake up, the sun shining alight from the windows to your eyes, Taehyung was sitting at the end of the bed fully clothed. His head turns slightly, feeling the sense of your waking.

"Y/n, there's not just one who wants to kill you," he says but you couldn't make out a single word, "there's a whole coven of them."

a/n: happy new year! pls dont take the bella comment seriously. also team jacob ftw!!! also appreciate my banner work owo.this is my first descriptive smut like i actually write them having sex idk i hope yall like it tho :* i love y’all!

#taehyung #kim taehyung #bts taehyung #kth smut #smut #bts smut #bangtan #bts scenarios #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts reactions #bts #jungkook #jimin #rm #jin #hoseok #yoongi #angst

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Of Tattoos and Accidents

Summary: Sasha and Connie drag you to your tattoo appointment and you don’t regret it. Pairing: Armin Arlert x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: language, tattoo artist!Armin Word Count: 1.3 k

A/N: Ha, I didn't write a smutty piece!

"Ready for your first tattoo?" Connie barged into your bedroom followed by Sasha as you were brushing your untamed hair. "Absolutely not. Is it too late to cancel?" You sighed, the idea of a needle poking your skin making you throw up. "Come on, Y/N, you had 2 fractured ribs, a broken leg and you still walked to class after that wardrobe fell on you. You can take a needle." Sasha encouraged you, her hand patting your head. "Yeah, and then I fainted during that same class." "I'm amazed, really. Remember when you got run over, got up and still came to my party?" Connie shook his head. "How are you scared of a tattoo?" "I'm just scared of needles, okay?" You sighed. There was nothing you could do to convince your friends to cancel that stupid appointment you drunkenly made. "But not scared of getting hit by a car? Come on, Y/N, we're gonna be late." The brunette grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the room with Connie pushing you from behind. It was decided: they were gonna force you to get that tattoo whether you liked it or not. Besides, how bad could it be? "I don't wanna do this, guys. Please, let's go back! I promise I'll do your dishes for the rest of my life!" You cried out as your friends pulled you into the tattoo parlour. Your hand grabbed the door handle as you were trying to resist them, nails clawing their arms. "Sweet Jesus, let go of me or I'll call your parents!" You resorted to empty threats. "Um, you guys need any help?" A foreign voice asked and your eyes darted to the source. "Hi, you must be Armin." Connie smiled, his arms around your waist as he tried to pick you up but you just wouldn't let go of the damn handle. "I'm Connie, I have an appointment with Eren. These are Sasha and Y/N." "Is she alright?" Armin whispered, a look of concern on his face. "She's just stubborn, aren't you?" "I wanna go home, please!" You bit into Sasha's hand, the girl letting out a yelp. "Y/N? You must be my 3 o'clock." The blond calmly stated. "First time, I assume?" He playfully asked you. "Come on, woman, get it together. Remember when that dog bit you and you limped back home, too afraid to go to the hospital?" Connie snickered. "Please stop talking." You pursed your lips. "Hey, I promise it won't hurt." Armin smiled. Your grip around the handle loosened and you finally took a good look at him. A few piercings in his ears, a killer tattoo around his neck and eyes so blue you could drown in them. The man looked both like an angel and a devil, and it intrigued you. After you finally calmed down your friends went into two separate rooms, Connie to get his seventh tattoo, Sasha to pierce her septum and you were left with Armin, who invited you into what seemed like a reception room. "You don't have to bullshit me, I know it's gonna hurt like a motherfucker." You took a seat on an armchair as he handed you a portfolio of his drawings and doodles to choose from. "I'm not bullshitting you, it all depends where you'll have me– it. The tattoo." The blond shook his head at his slip and you couldn't stifle the giggle that came out of your mouth. "Sorry, it's been a long day." He lied. "No worries." You smiled and flipped through the pages. "Wait, these are all done by you?" "Every single one." "Damn, you're really good!" "Thanks." His cheeks flushed red. "Um, anyway, it really all depends on the area on your body. Shoulders hurt the least." "What hurts the most?" You asked, curiosity dripping down your tongue. "Umm... feet and... " "And?" "L-lower areas." Armin was blushing furiously. Normally he wouldn't have a problem explaining these things to his clients, he wasn't necessarily a prude, but something about you made him stutter like a toddler. "Oh, ooooh, I get it, duh!" You rolled your eyes at the slow gears in your head. "I think I want this one." You handed him back his portfolio and pointed at the splendid drawing of two koi fish, representing yin and yang. It perfectly mirrored your style, as well as your personality, and you were content with your choice. "Perfect! And where will you have

me? IT! Jesus, I'm so sorry." He trailed off, your smile only making him more flustered. "Honestly, just take me out first." You joked, fingers playing with a lock of hair. "I think I'll have it on my upper shoulder. I'm not ready for too much pain yet." "Great, let's get you ready." The shirt you were wearing was loose enough for you to pull it down your arm, offering Armin both enough room to work, and a good view into your cleavage whenever he got up from his chair. He was a professional, though, and whenever he focused nothing could distract him. The first puncture made you suck your teeth and clench your fists but he was right, it didn't hurt as bad as you thought it would. "So, what was that about a dog biting you?" The blond asked, brows furrowed, eyes on your shoulder. "Oh, God, Connie and his stupid mouth... I'm kinda prone to accidents. I'm not clumsy, just severely lacking luck." You explained with a sigh. "Yet you're still scared of needles?" "Um, yes? I guess we all have a phobia. Some are scared of spiders, others of heights. I'm terrified of needles." "Yet I'm poking you." Armin laughed, the smile quickly fading after realising how sexual that sounded. "With a needle, I mean." You were beginning to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. "Well, I gotta face my fears, don't I? Besides, I've always wanted a tattoo. I used to get those temporary ones when I was a kid." "Well, maybe you'll get some more. Oh, I'm gonna have to do the shading now. This might hurt a bit more." He let you know before getting up and changing the needle. "Got anything for me to bite into?" You joked, genuinely hoping it wouldn't be that bad, but to Armin it sounded like an invitation. "N-not really." "I'll just use my hand then." Goodness gracious, it hurt like a bitch. You bit into your knuckles, almost drawing blood, muffled curses filling the room. It amused and concerned him to see someone so determined to get a tattoo, despite your intolerance for pain and fear of needles. "Fucking hell!" You removed the fist out of your mouth, nails digging into your thighs. "Bitch ass motherfucker!" "It's over!" Armin laughed at your reaction. "It's alright, Y/N, I'm done." "Oh, thank the fucking Lord!" You wiped the tears off of your cheeks. Armin cleaned you up and gently placed a patch over your first (and last) tattoo before handing you a booklet with instructions. The two of you walked back into the reception room and you plopped back on the armchair, careful not to touch it with your shoulder. "Um, I don't normally do this but do you want to go out for a drink sometime?" The blond smiled. "I'm paying." "Yeah, you better pay after what I went through." You chuckled. "So, is that a yes?" "It's a definite yes." "Y/N, I thought you were getting murdered in there." Connie walked in followed by who you assumed to be Eren. "Ah shit, was I that loud?" "Loud? I think you guys need to soundproof your rooms." Sasha chimed in, flaunting her new piercing. Armin walked you and your friends out and handed you a small piece of paper with his number on it. "What was that all about?" The brunette eyed you up and down with a shit-eating grin on her face. "I don't know what you're talking about." You slid the paper in your pocket. "Wait, Armin gave you his number? Think you can get me a free tat?" Connie sneered at you. "Oh, yeah, totally!" "Really?" "Hell no."

#armin x reader #armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot fluff #snk #snk x reader #snk fluff #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [Finale]

Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 [Finale]

➜ Words: 5.1k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is an art form. It takes more than just having ingredients and following a recipe. It’s the flavour, texture, taste, and the presentation. It’s knowing why when things go wrong and how to fix it. It’s knowing the right kinds of ingredients to pick, how much of each should be combined, what techniques and methods to use. Baking is therapy. Baking is scientific. It is art. The ingredients are as follows:

Fresh strawberries

White chocolate sponge cake

Sugar

Butter

Eggs

You place the fresh strawberries into the refrigerator as the stand mixer whips the six large egg whites and two cups of sugar. When it's combined, you place a bowl over a double boiler on the stove and whisk until the mixture is hot. You put it on your stand mixer again until the white chocolate swiss meringue buttercream is stiff. The cubed butter and white chocolate is added shortly after until it's smooth. Once you’ve got your components prepared, you slice the cooled white chocolate cake into two layers and set the bottom layer on a cake board on the turning cake table. You spread the meringue buttercream evenly with an offset spatula and layer the strawberries. Afterwards, you put the other chocolate sponge cakes over it and repeat the process. You finish the white chocolate strawberry swirl cake with white chocolate strawberries on top for decorative purposes and pipe flowers with a twelve inch piping bag. “It looks fucking incredible.” Jungkook leans over the counter, peering at the frosted cake you’ve just made. “It was supposed to be white chocolate raspberry swirl, but I know you like strawberries, so….” The boy grins, a wide smile that makes his big nose scrunch. “I love it.” You burst out into giggles. “You haven’t even taken a bite yet!” Jungkook begins slicing the cake. You’re proud of what you’ve made — but it’s kind of sad at the same time. This is the final product of your portfolio before it's ready for submission. You’re glad it’s over, but it also means your journey here is ending. It’s November now. And it’s been one whole year since your relationship with Jungkook shifted. A year ago — when the internship posting went up and you found out he was going to be your partner over the summer. When you were made his exam partner in your fine pastries class. When that Friday night happened and you bursted out crying in the kitchen, and he comforted you to no avail despite it being a cold night where the air bit his skin and turned his cheeks rosy. Where he bought you grape soda for no reason whatsoever other than a poor attempt at trying to make things better. It seems like it was so long ago, but it’s only been three hundred and sixty days. It makes you wonder what will happen a year from now or two or ten. “Not too sweet?” You watch your boyfriend’s expression carefully. Jeon Jungkook has his brows deeply furrowed with a thoughtful expression like he’s trying to give honest output. His fork is cleaned empty and it lowers to grab another bite. “It’s perfect.” He melts into a smile. “Maybe you made my sugar tolerance go up.” “Maybe because I improved.” You loll your head to the side, challenging him. “It’s almost as good as your chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes, huh?” Jungkook scoffs lightly. “I wouldn’t go that far, babe, but we can all dream.” You sulk. “I’ll find out that recipe one day, Jeon. You mark my words and when I do, I’ll profit off of it.” He laughs, the sound tickling and boyish, causing another smile to rise onto your features. Jungkook digs in, having yet another bite and he lets his teeth rot with the sweetness. It’s not long before he remembers something, strides away with a hum and returns with a cold tray. “What is it?” you ask curiously as he sets it down and removes the saran wrap. “It’s truffles. I made it in my art of chocolate class, but it’s an original recipe. Give it a try.” He pushes the tray towards you and you don’t hesitate to grab a chocolate truffle. You would never, on any planet, deny the opportunity of consuming chocolate, especially when it’s made by Jeon Jungkook. You’ve never said it out loud before, but for some reason he always makes the best. No grocery brand or chocolatier can beat what he often bakes for you. So you try not to devour the truffle all in one bite, opting to relish and savour it. You take half of the truffle into your mouth and chew with the same consideration he had for you. And you’re surprised as the deep flavour melts on your palate. “Coffee?” Your brows furrow and you lick your lips. “Did you put black coffee into it?” “I was inspired by a memory,” Jungkook says with a soft smile. “What do you think?” “I love it,” you exhale in awe, finishing the bite and licking your fingers. It tastes kind of bitter, but it has a sweet note at the end. It’s bittersweet. But mostly ends up sweet.

Life with Jungkook continues. Lectures and workshops become more hectic the closer the end comes, but in between classes and late nights spent in the kitchens next to ovens, you and Jungkook still find plenty of time with one another. Or at least enough that you still have your dumb debates and have your hour of snuggling — which Jungkook regularly falls asleep during. The honeymoon phase of your relationship eventually fades away, but luckily it molds into a comfortable pattern that neither of you mind whatsoever. There are still knowing gazes shared across busy rooms, his hand that often comes on your lower back that you find security in, tender kisses shared when the two of you greet each other and bid temporary farewells. You still love Jungkook very much and you don’t ever find yourself afraid of him leaving you abruptly. Your relationship becomes normal too, so Yoongi and Taehyung has little to tease you both about. They instead relish in bullying Jimin when he ends up going out with a coworker of his at his new part-time job, much to the shorter man’s dismay. Hoseok, on the other hand, while no longer in a relationship, finds an interest in teaching and starts to look into what it would take to become an instructor. You’re happy for him and so is Aeri who tells you she’s considering going abroad someday to expand her culinary skills and cook more international cuisine. She keeps herself preoccupied by improving herself and becomes someone worthy of your admiration. But for the most part, things remain consistent and constant. There’s still bickering over lunchtimes and dinner times across the cafeteria table. Still nights of crashing Yoongi and Hoseok’s apartment and playing games. The five of you also start playing Dungeons and Dragons much to Taehyung’s delight who becomes the dungeon master — and while Yoongi always says he wants to stab himself halfway through every session, you’re sure he enjoys it as much as everyone else does. The memories made are ones you cherish the most. And before you know it, graduation has come. “You look beautiful, dear,” Jungkook’s mom holds back tears as she grasps your hands tightly. “Congratulations.” “Thank you.” “Come on, you two!” His dad suddenly calls, holding an old camera up to his chin. “Let’s take some photos to remember the occasion!” One hand holds your rolled certificate and the other holds your navy gown, you stand in front of the school sign with Jungkook who adjusts his black cap. He drapes his arm over your shoulder and the both of you tilt your heads towards each other and give the biggest grins. The camera flashes. Again and again. The corner of your mouth starts moving as your smile twitches. “How many is he taking?” “Just smile,” Jungkook mutters through his grin as both his parents, his aunt and uncle, Lia and Eunbi, and grandma look on proudly. “He’ll do more if you try to argue.” “Two more!” His dad shouts, despite taking another five. His entire family seems so elated that your heart swells with endearment. “I didn’t know your family would be so happy when you told them we were dating,” you murmur, switching your poses a bit. “You know, your grandma just asked me when we’re getting married.” “Really?” He glances at you and then scoffs with another smile that’s more genuine. “Be lucky she has half a mind not to start asking when we’re having kids. Unless…...” “I swear to god, Jungkook, if you get down on your knee in the middle of our graduation with everyone watching, I’m going to kick you in your shin.” He giggles, nose scrunched, eyes crinkled. It’s not long before Jungkook’s mother drags over Jimin overbearingly by the hand with Taehyung, Hoseok, and Yoongi for a group photo. There’re so many parents, family members, and phones and cameras being passed around that your plastered smile starts to break on your face. Everyone’s mother and their goddamn cousin’s cousin wants three copies of the same exact picture. “Oh my god, kill me now,” Yoongi groans but still has that dumb fucking grin on his face. He looks more like a kid showing off his braces or a grandpa who has his dentures stuck. You think he’s putting on that idiotic grin just to ruin the pictures — even his mom is yelling about it on the sidelines. “Just a few more,” Jimin whispers with more perseverance than anyone else has. “Who is even taking our picture, right now?” Hoseok asks, his brows furrowing. “Does anyone even know who that lady is?” “I think she’s the associate dean’s assistant who’s going to put it on the website.” Taehyung breathes out, his cheeks aching from his smile. “Either that or that’s my cousin’s brother-in-law’s younger sister’s friend.” “Alright, that’s enough.” Yoongi gives up and walks out of the frame. Everyone starts dispersing before there are protests and they’re rounded up for another pointless photo session. But after a while, you’re granted some freedom to roam around with Jungkook. There’s still a few more photos taken, ones with Aeri and classmates and teachers, like Miss. Kang, who you always liked. “I always knew the two of you could be close.” The female teacher has the cheesiest smile and you have to admit, you’re glad she never changed Jungkook’s internship like he wanted. In a way she’s like your matchmaker, but you’ll never say it out loud in case you give her more credit than it’s due. She already seems to know it anyway. “Good luck on your future journeys. You both have great potential.” Namjoon and Sejeong also show up to congratulate the pair of you as well. And they meet Jungkook’s family who seems to adore the couple straight away, asking plenty of questions of what their shop is like and if their son was in any way helpful. But while you’d like to stick around to hear all the conversations, it’s nice to take a break from the bustle to just walk on the paths that you used to take all the time with Jungkook. You don’t know what it’s going to be like when you leave this place. “Aren’t you kind of sad?” Your hand squeezes Jungkook’s and you turn to look at him. “Yeah,” he admits. “But I’m also happy we don’t have to submit projects or do exams anymore. I’ll miss the routine. Of being able to hang out with the guys and eat with them all the time. But they’ll still be around and I have you.” Jungkook’s gaze meets yours. His eyes are tender, soft. You smile at him. That’s right — this chapter might be ending, but you’ll still have many more with him. “Y/N!” There’s a call of your name and you turn to see your family waving at a distance. Your mom holds a flower bouquet, most likely for you and your cheeks swell with a smile. Your arm extended in the air to wave back and your steps quicken with Jungkook’s to meet them.

A lot happens after graduation. There are many changes and alterations. While you’ll still always be learning until the end of time, you’re no longer an official student and you’re thrown to the hounds called the real world. But it’s not all that bad. You get hired back at Kim’s Wedding Cake Company and work with Soohyun who’s returned from maternity leave. Yuna also sometimes joins during the weekends and much to your delight, she tells you that she’s enrolled in the institution as she had wanted. You can only imagine what kind of knowledge she’ll gain and stories she’ll end up having there like you did. But there’s not a lot of time to reminisce when there’s work and a ton to learn, but you find yourself enjoying it more than finding it difficult. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t return to the company. He instead gets hired at a chocolatier shop not far from where you work. It’s only a ten minute walk down the block; five for each of you when you meet halfway like you frequently do for lunch. He tells you that he’s learning a lot, on what it takes in the artistry of chocolate, that there’s more meticulousness than what meets the eye. It sounds like an absolute nightmare to you, but he loves it — especially on the days when he smells sweet and there’s some chocolate smeared on his cheeks. And you don’t hate that he often brings you home truffles and caramels to try. The two of you also move in with each other, sharing an old apartment not far from your workplaces. It’s not much different from how you used to live on campus at different dorms, except now there are bills to be paid and Jungkook steals all the hot water in the shower. You wonder if this is what it feels like to be an adult. “Y/N?” There’s a familiar voice, but one you haven’t heard in ages. A smooth timbre that sounds light and humorous at the corners. You whirl around, regarding the tall man with dark hair, dressed in a dark turtleneck and a black trench coat. His sheepish eyes crinkle in his smile, lips pink and plush. “Jin?” A grin spreads into your face as well. “Oh my god! How are you? It’s been so long! What are you doing here?” “I live here, remember,” he reminds in the midst of squeaky giggles. “And I’m good. I’m actually on my way to a meeting. I’m working in management of Toute Pastries and Pâtisseries.” “Wow, working in commercial bakeries? That’s impressive.” But you’re not exactly surprised. You knew Seokjin always had it in him and you feel proud that someone you used to know has become so great. Seokjin laughs. “Not really. It’s kind of less hands-off than I’d like, but what about you?” “I’m good too. Just heading to my friend’s bakery.” You hitch a thumb over your shoulder. “Today’s the opening. Do you want to come?” “I’d love to, but the meeting starts in twenty. I saw the sign the other day though. The bakery is that place that was being renovated on Imlingss Avenue, right?” “Yeah. It’s next to the department store.” “I’ll swing by when I have some time then.” “When you have some time?” You eye him playfully and cross your arms. It might be inappropriate to be so sarcastic with an acquaintance, but being with Jungkook has made you more snarky than is probably socially acceptable. “So you’re a hot shot, now, aren’t you?” Luckily, Jin doesn’t take offence and simply laughs. “I swear I’m not!” It’s good to see him. You thought you never would again, at least not face-to-face like this. But what you least expected was that your conversations could be so light and natural. It isn’t difficult at all and you don’t find yourself uncomfortable nor holding any resentments. You aren’t sad or angry. It’s like seeing an old friend again. “I heard you were with Jungkook,” Jin says with the corner of his mouth quirked. “That’s a surprise.” “Isn’t it?” Whenever Jungkook used to come up in a conversation, all you ever said to Seokjin was how trash he was. But that was before you really knew anything about him. “But he’s great. An idiot sometimes. But it’s great.” Jin can see the happiness radiating off your face and it’s infectious. “I’m happy for you, Y/N.” He says it sincerely, genuinely, and your smile widens. “Thanks.” The both of you share a little more small talk before you’re on your way. And once farewells are said and done, you don’t look back or peek over your shoulder for another glance at him. You’re content continuing straight forward. “Sorry, I’m late.” The door chimes as it slowly shuts after you, the warm furnace heating the air and melting off the coldness of your skin. “Of course you’d be late.” Yoongi is in his black apron, white shirt rolled up to his elbows and his arms crossed. “We already took the photos, don’t expect that we’ll re-take them.” “A joy as always, Yoongi.” You smile at him, taking off your jacket and putting it on the coat rack at the corner. Jimin comes to greet you and you sigh softly. “Why’d you ever agree to open a bakery with him, Chim? You must be a saint to deal with his shit all the time.” “I heard that.” Jimin laughs. “Trust me, he kept on asking Jungkook when you would come. He’s all bark but no bite,” he whispers but it’s loud enough that Yoongi looks sorely unimpressed. The shop is cute and spacious. It’s rather modern with square tables and chairs lining the walls. The lights come from the sides of the fancy ceiling, and there’s a counter to check out at with a main glass case where people can choose pastries from. In the corner, there’s also several smaller pastry display cases where patrons can grab trays, tongs and fill up their own plates. You quickly greet everybody and then move to grab your one prized possession. “Lemon meringue pie?” Taehyung laughs, watching you put two on your plate. “You know I just have to.” You smile and sit at one of the tables, luckily having it on the house. Taehyung sits across from you. “Man, you’re so nice to let Yoongi have the entire recipe since it’s yours too.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t like I had any plans with it in the first place, plus it was Yoongi’s idea to add the secret ingredient.” “Which is?” Taehyung grins his infamous boxy smile. “Nice try.” “I’ll find out one of these days,” you warn. Taehyung handed you the recipe a long time ago but he conveniently omitted the secret ingredient and you haven’t forgiven him since. “And then I’ll be making it for myself every other night instead of giving my pretty penny over to Yoongi and Jimin.” “Yeah, good luck with that.” He leans back in the comfortable chair. “I’m sure Yoongi will be protecting that from you for the rest of his life. He might be willing to exchange information though if he can get his hands on Jungkook’s chocolate-covered strawberries.” Taehyung wiggles his brows, but you shake your head with a sigh. “He won’t tell me. I swear he’s holding it above my head so I can never ditch him.” The man laughs and takes a look around the new shop. Everyone is here — Hoseok, Jimin, Yoongi, Jungkook, Taehyung, Aeri and you — the entire crew with no one else missing. There are other people as well, sponsors and Yoongi and Jimin’s other acquaintances, but you muse how hard it is these days to gather up like you used to. Everybody was busy and on their own paths. Doing their own thing. But it’s what made moments like these more precious. “I would’ve joined them, should’ve,” Taehyung says wistfully with a sigh. “The original plan was actually Jimin, Yoongi, and I.” “Yeah, but you wouldn’t have been happy.” You take another bite of the pie, chewing in your cheek. “Yeah, that’s true.” “Do you regret it? Going back to school?” “No.” Taehyung smiles gently. “I love learning and I knew after graduation, I wanted to keep learning. I’m not as good at cooking as I am at baking, but it’s still fun and I think I’m getting better. The only issue is Yuna.” The man visibly and dramatically shivers and it elicits laughter from you. “Does she bother you a lot?” “Less like bothering and more like she literally pops up wherever I go,” he tells. “Sometimes I’m just minding my own business and then boom, out of nowhere, I turn the corner and she’s there. I’m starting to think she’s like a ghost or like….like…” “—a witch,” Jungkook finishes and then leans down to plop a kiss at the top of your head. “Hey.” “Hey.” You smile and he leans down to steal a bite of your pie, but you don’t mind much. “You’ll never guess who I saw earlier.” Curiosity gleams in Jungkook’s eye and you grin, wanting to put him suspense for a little longer. “I’ll tell you about it later, but is everyone grabbing dinner afterwards? I haven’t checked the messages yet.” “Yeah, we are.” Soon, Hoseok comes over and introduces his lady-friend that he brought with him as Naul. But you know through advice he’s sought through you a few weeks back that he’s been seeing her and taking it slow. It’s nice to finally meet someone you’ve heard about, and you find that her calm and collected personality fits into Hoseok’s quite well. You also meet Jimin’s girlfriend who is sweet and an avid talker about all things deli meats. At your surprise of how ham supposedly doesn’t taste as good as some other cold cuts, she insists that you and Jungkook need to have a double date with her and Jimin so she can enlighten you on the world of salamis — to which you agree needs to happen. She’s peculiar, but sweet and cute when she’s with Jimin. “So you’re really going?” you ask after Aeri confirms it. She had told you a month ago that she applied to study abroad and you couldn’t be anything but happy. Especially now that she’s just told you that she’s been accepted, you have nothing but eagerness for her. “Yeah, I’m a bit nervous, but I’m super excited.” You pull the girl into a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you, but have fun and stay safe. Stay in touch.” “Thanks and I will, Y/N.” She giggles against you and pulls apart. “I hear Amsterdam is really nice and my aunt keeps advertising it, so I’m looking forward to it.” “Apparently, those Dutch men are really something,” you murmur and she laughs. “You know, if I wasn’t in a happily committed relationship and with my dream job, I’d probably ask if I could come with you cause damn, they’re like a tall glass of water. You need to take advantage of that.” “Who’s a tall glass of water?” Jungkook approaches with a sorely unimpressed expression. It makes you go tight-lipped and Aeri giggles, slinking away before she’s caught in the crossfire. While you and Jungkook playfully bicker in the middle of the store and he grabs you in a chokehold and you tickle him — much to the shock of the other patrons who don’t know you — Yoongi looks on behind the counter with a displeased expression. Except that’s only his natural resting bitch face and not what he thinks internally. Or at least that’s what Jimin realizes when Yoongi says to him privately— “They’re a pretty good match, huh? Jungkook and Y/N.” “Yeah.” Jimin smiles, watching the two of you act like children. “They are.” It’s sad when the opening event eventually ends. The night comes and dinner is soon over too. Everyone ultimately says their farewells, waving before they go off on their own way and you linger just a moment until everyone’s gone. It’s nostalgic to be around them, reminding you of days that seemed simpler and easier, and when you were unaware of these facts. It’s sad to say goodbye since you don’t know when you’ll see all of them again. At one place. At one time. But at least you have Jungkook with you, so you’re far from being alone. “Don’t worry,” Jungkook jokes around, “They’ll be back for our wedding.” “When is that going to happen?” you scoff, looking at him and how his features are illuminated under the lampposts that you pass. You squeeze his hand in yours. “It’s a surprise,” he answers slyly. You grin. “And what if I reject you?” “Then I’ll be a very sad man.” “And if we don’t work out at all?” “Then we’ll still be best friends,” Jungkook says and interlaces his fingers with yours. “I’ll always be here for you. Because I’m lame and I think I’ll always be head over heels for you.” He smiles wide, bunny teeth revealed and features soft. “It’s a promise.” And one you believe in. Luckily, you and Jungkook never split. You end up getting married two years later with Aeri as your maid of honour and Taehyung as the best man — the brunette giving you so much anxiety with his spontaneousness that you nearly wish it was Jimin who was the best man instead. But everything ends up without too many hitches or difficulties. It’s hectic lives that you and Jungkook lead, but ones you love. Ultimately, the pair of you get a townhouse together halfway between the suburbs and the city. You wind up running Kim’s Wedding Cake Company with Yuna many years down the line after Namjoon and Sejeong step down to retire. And Jungkook achieves his dream of becoming a chocolatier and ends up getting silver in The World Chocolate Masters competition. The two of you have your first child together one drunken night when you both think it’s a good idea to have sex in your sacred spot — a professional kitchen. It’s the first and last time, swearing you’ll never do it again when you’re both on your hands and knees afterwards, sanitizing the entire area for fear of losing your jobs for the violation of health codes. But you end up conceiving that night and it’s the first of many kids — rascals with sweet-tooths. Life with Jungkook is a mundanity you could’ve only dreamed of. And you often count your blessings that you somehow ended with such a cheeky, lovable boy.

[Epilogue] “And that’s how I met your grandmother.” There’s a plump toddler sitting on his knee, slobbering as he babbles, and a slightly older girl sitting cross-legged in front of him on the carpet. She’s no more than five years old and blinks up at the old man with matching doe eyes. “So a stupid man dumped grandma and then you came in and saved her?” she asks in a high-pitched voice. “Essentially.” The old man nods and takes off his rounded spectacles to place on the small table beside his plush armchair. It’s his special seat for story time, placed under the picture frames of you and Jungkook over the decades, from your graduation to your wedding. “We were friends first and then started to date afterwards, but yes, it’s right to say I did save her.” “Like a superhero?” He grins and confirms, “Like a superhero. Now, do you know what the moral of the story is?” His granddaughter shakes her head. “No. What is it?” “The way to a person’s heart is through the stomach,” he declares with a smile. “If they like chocolate, you make sure you’re good at making chocolate. You like chocolate, right?” “I like grandma’s cakes!” she exclaims much to his amusement. “What nonsense are you telling her?” You’re leaning on the doorframe leading to the kitchen, sighing lightly as you shake your head with your arms crossed. Your hair is slowly turning gray, but you’re still as attractive — if not even more so. Jungkook always mused how much more beautiful you got the more you learnt and experienced. And he likes the wrinkles around your eyes, even when you don’t. It reminds him of how many times he’s made you laugh over the years. “Grandma!” Your granddaughter jumps up with a big grin that’s reminiscent of a bunny. She has big doe eyes that seem to sparkle in the afternoon light shedding into the cozy home. “Grandpa was just telling me how you guys met. He said he saved you. Is that true?” “I saved him, dear.” You pat her head gently. “Without me, your grandpa would be hopeless.” The older man at his armchair chuckles. “That is true.” “It’s time for lunch, you three.” You hold up your grandson and your granddaughter skips towards the kitchen. Jungkook staggers upwards from his seat with weaker knees and muscles that feel exhausted to the bone. He’s still in rather good shape though for just turning sixty three two months ago. Even when you constantly worry about him, he can still play catch with the kids in the backyard and put them on his back without hurting it much. When he comes into the kitchen, the two kids are in their seats and busy already digging in. His mug that says ‘Jungkook — World’s Best Chocolatier’ sits at the corner of the fruit place mat you bought at the thrift store. The letters of the mug are worn around the edges, handle chipped at the bottom, but it’s still his favourite. But Jungkook doesn’t sit down to eat just yet. He rounds the table and comes to the sink where you’re humming away. He leans his arms on the edge of the counter, standing right behind you and leans in as you turn your head. Jungkook kisses your cheek. “I love you.” You smile, the same one he fell in love with all those decades ago when you both were still young students who knew nothing about what was to come. “I love you too.” Much to Jungkook’s contentment, you lean into him, filling his senses with your scent as you press a soft kiss to his lips. And it’s not bitter whatsoever. It’s sweet.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #bts series #bts baking series #bts baking AU #bts baking!AU #jungkook x reader #jungkook reader insert #and with this the entire series is complete #thank you for reading #for those who read every single chapter and every single word I had to offer #I really appreciate following me for such a long journey and I hope it was worth it #:>

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