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atlafan · 4 years

Note

could u maybe write something ab harry and the reader reuniting after taking a break for a while 🥺 just something a lil angsty and fluffy

a/n: oh wow, I’ve actually been wanting to write something about this for a little bit, let’s see what I can whip up! Less angst in this than I thought, but super fluffy. Hope you liked it! This is an au, so ya boy’s not famous.

New York to London

It wasn’t easy, but you both decided to take some time apart. You both just graduated from college, and you needed to figure out what you were doing for jobs. If you needed to move somewhere for work, neither of you wanted to hold the other back. You were in love, but you were still so young. If it was meant to be, it would happen, right?

You ended up in New York. You loved clothes and fashion. Were a marketing major with a minor in art. You found yourself living in a cozy apartment on the upper east side, working remotely for a clothing app. You got to design and select outfits for people. It was sort of like Stitch Fix. Working from home allowed you to fill up your sketch books with design ideas of your own. Sometimes you would go out and work from the local coffee shop, just to have a change of scenery, of course making sure to buy coffee and food in exchange for the free wifi.

You and Harry agreed not to really talk, or fill each other in what you were doing. Neither of you wanted to fall into the “please, just come move here with me” trap. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, or if he had decided to go back to London altogether. You missed him, and it was a good relationship, but it had definitely run its course. You were with him for two years, you did a lot of growing up together, but you were never certain if he was the man of future.

Six months into your job, you had started making friends in the city. You found time to go out and enjoy the night life when you could. You had even gone on a few dates here and there, a couple of one night stands when you were sick of using your own devices to get off. Things a lot of young, twenty-somethings did. One day, out of the blue, you got a text from your ex-boyfriend.

Harry: hi love, is it okay if I still call you that? lol...anyways, I’m in NYC for a few days...work thing...would love to see you if you’re up for it...xx

You take a deep breath when you see the text. You hate the way it makes your heart flutter. You ended up dating Harry in the first place because he always had this way of making you nervous, but in a good way. You always had butterflies around him, and you always found it hard to say no. You were genuinely curious to see how he was doing, and what exactly he did for work, so after waiting precisely twenty minutes, you decide to text him back.

You: hey! course it’s okay ;p I’d love to catch up! dinner and a drink sound good?

Harry: sounds great, name the time and place

You and Harry decide to meet up at a restaurant near his hotel that Friday night. You didn’t want to go to some tourist trap, but you knew of a nice place near where he was staying. You made sure to look your best, maybe remind him a bit of what he was missing. You knew he’d do the same. You put on your best little black dress, put your hair up into a sleek high pony, and put on some makeup. You grabbed a pair of red pumps for a pop of color, and into your uber you went.

It was a nice, spring evening. It was getting warmer out, so you only needed a light jacket along with your dress. You wait in the lobby of the restaurant for him.

“Y/N?”

You’d know the sound of his voice anywhere. You turn around and smile. He was almost shocked, you had never looked better. He looked nice. Blue pair of slacks, white button up with the first few undone, and a salmon pink sport coat. Classic Harry.

“Hi!”

You wrap your arms around his neck and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“You look great.” He says, blushing slightly.

“Thanks, so do you. I put a reservation in for us online. Wanna see if the table’s ready?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

He puts his hands in his pockets and follows you up to the hostess. She checks you both in and leads you to your table a few minutes later.

“Come here a lot?” He asks as he sits down.

“Sometimes. Been here with some friends.”

You take your jacket off and hang it on the back of your chair. He gets a really good eye full of you. He smiles when he sees you wearing the necklace he had gotten you for your last birthday.

“So, you’re in the city for work?”

“Yup, I’m an admissions counselor for a small school up in New Hampshire. I got hired to do a lot of the traveling, so I’m rarely on campus.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Where else do you travel to?”

“Mostly the state of New York and Massachusetts.”

“What made you-”

“Hi folks, I’m Max, I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start either of you off with a drink?”

“I’d love a glass of pinot noir please.” You smile.

“Just a Corona for me, thanks.”

“Excellent, I’ll be back in a few minutes with those.” He smiles and walks away.

“Anyways, what made you want to become an admissions counselor?”

“I get to travel with all expenses paid. I really had no idea what I wanted to do after I graduated, so this gives me more time to figure it out. I can explore the various places I go to. S’not like I’m tied down, right?” He jokes.

“Right.”

He clears his throat.

“So, it seems like the city’s treating you well.”

“Very well!” You chuckle. “I love it so much. I get to work remotely too, so no one really bothers me, which is great. I’m able to work on my sketches in my down time.”

“Yeah, you’re working for like a clothing subscription service?”

“Mhm, it’s awesome. I love getting to know my clients and all that.”

“You seem happy.”

“I am. I feel really independent.”

The waiter comes back over with your drinks. You end up ordering a salad with some grilled shrimp, while Harry opts for a veggie burger. You clink your glasses together.

“So, it’s okay that I texted right?”

“Of course! I think I’d be a little upset if I knew you were so close by and didn’t even think to say hi.”

“I’ve wanted to reach out for a while, but...I know you said you wanted some space.”

“Well, we both agreed on that.”

“I guess.” He shrugs.

“Did we not?”

“No, we did. I guess all I mean is...I don’t know...takin’ a break has just been weird, that’s all.”

Before you can respond, your food is brought over. The conversation lightens up a bit as you eat. Harry really enjoys the food. Towards the end, he insists that he pays. You eventually agree to just split the bill.

“Wanna come see my place? I think you’ll like it, it’s cozy.”

“Sure! Thought I’d have to work a little harder for you to invite me back with you.” He smirks.

“Oh, stop it.” You swat an arm at him.

The uber ride back to your place is quiet. He was impressed by the building you were in. He couldn’t believe you could afford such a nice place.

“So, it’s a studio, but it’s not cramped.” You show him inside. “Like, I can stretch out in the shower.” You giggle. “Got really creative with the storage too.”

“View makes it all worth it, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.” You both look out the window together. “Sit, sit. What can I get for you? I have more wine, and some beers int he fridge.”

“Beer’s fine, thanks.”

He sits down on your small couch while you get the drinks together. You come back over and him a beer.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” You take a sip of your wine. “So, do you, like, have an apartment in New Hampshire?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a small place to call home when I’m not traveling.”

“That’s good.”

“Mhm.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Can I ask you something...sort of personal?”

“Um, sure.”

“You haven’t been, like, hooking up have you?”

“What?”

“Because I haven’t.”

“I never told you not to.”

“So, does that mean you have?”

“Harry...we’re not together, we’re broken up.” You frown and so does he.

“A break is different from a break up, though, right?”

“We agreed to end things so we could go off and find our career paths. I mean, I think about you a lot, but I guess I didn’t really think we’d actually get back together. It’s been six months, Harry.”

“I know...”

“I mean, I’m not seeing anyone. I’ve had a few dates here and there, but nothing serious. I don’t really have time for it.”

“Me neither...I guess the only difference is I haven’t wanted to even be with anyone else, random or not.”

“I find that very hard to believe.” You scoff. “If there was a day I couldn’t see you, you’d tell me how touch starved you were.”

“That’s true, but it was your touch I was starved for, no one else’s. You know me, I was never the hook up guy as it was. It’s gross.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Do you always hook up with different people or-”

“No.”

He nods his head.

“How many have there been?”

“What does it matter?”

“Just wondering if I need to catch up or something.” He scoffs.

“Harry, we never agreed on not hooking up with other people, we never even talked about it.”

“Because I just assumed we wouldn’t! Don’t you miss me?”

“I miss being in college and having zero responsibilities.” You sigh. “I try not to think about what I miss about you too much. And no offense, but I’ve actually begun a career. You’re still figuring things out. It wouldn’t good if we tried to get back together right now. I like living alone, and-”

“Alright, I get it, you’re better off without me.” He rolls his eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.” You put your hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it away.

“Do you think I like not being good enough? I’d give you the world if I could, but I literally have zero idea what I’m passionate about. I feel like I wasted four years of my life. Now when I talk with these kids on where they want to go to school and the reasons they want to go...” He shakes his head.

“You’re a people person, you’ve always been that way. You have a stage presence to you. A room lights up when you walk in.”

“S’not exactly a transferable skill, love.”

“You’ll figure it out, Harry. I know you will.”

A year or so later you heard from a mutual friend that Harry moved back to London. He had gone off into the world of PR, and he was thriving. Your job had lead you to some opportunities to go to London, they had even asked you if you wanted to relocate there. Many of the clothing lines they had were exported from there, and they wanted you more on the buying team since you had such a great eye. You said you’d consider it and go for a visit to check things out. You and Harry hadn’t talked much since he had seen you in New York, but you wanted to pay him the same courtesy he given you.

You: Hey, Harry! It’s Y/N...I’m coming to London next week for a work thing. Might even be relocating there! I was wondering if you’d like to get together. Maybe you can tell me how great the city is, lol

You had deleted the text about five times before actually hitting send. Two hours later he got back to you.

Harry: Did you think I deleted your number?! Of course I know it’s you! That sounds great, let me just check over my schedule with my assistant and I’ll get back to you on when would work.

You: wow, an assistant, how fancy are you?

Harry: she keeps my head on straight, that’s for sure

You: well, I’m looking forward to seeing you...it’s been too long!

Harry: I agree

And just like that, you had butterflies in your stomach. You hoped maybe he was single, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he was seeing someone. He was a girlfriend guy, and you had basically told him you weren’t getting back together last time you spoke.

You were given a wonderful tour of the office you’d potentially be working in. Everyone seemed friendly, and you certainly wouldn’t be the only American working there if you decided to accept.

Towards the end of the week, Harry invited you over for a dinner at his flat. You were surprised he didn’t want to go out. Maybe you’d be starting at his flat and then go to a club? You were dying to see how the London night life compared to New York’s. You take a cab to his flat and text him when you’re there. He comes downstairs to meet you outside.

“Harry!” You practically squeal. You wrap your arms around each other for a nice embrace. “It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too. Driver found the place okay?”

“Mhm.” You smile.

“Come on up. Just got dinner on the table.”

He leads you upstairs. Your jaw drops when you see how spacious his flat is. It was a one bedroom with a nice open concept. It looked like he entertained quite often. He had a bar set up in the living area.

“This is beautiful.”

“Thanks. Figured I could afford a nice place, why not have one?” He shrugs.

You use his hall bath to freshen up. He has you sit down at his dining table. He had made curry.

“This smells so good, thanks so much for cooking.”

“I figured you’d enjoy a real meal after eating out all week.”

“You figured right, thank you.”

“Oh stop.” He sits down. “Just eat, yeah?”

You moan after tasting the food.

“This is delicious.”

“Thanks.” He smirks. “So, do you think you really might move here?”

“I might, yeah. It seems like a really big step up for me.”

“No one back in New York to miss you?”

“Nope.” You grin. “Other than the few friends I’ve made.” You shrug. “My family is really supportive too.”

“That’s great. I’m really glad I came home. I feel like once I did the opportunities came flying in. I love PR. I make phone calls, set up events. And I get to meet so many cool people.”

“And you have an assistant.” You chuckle.

“S’not what you think. She’s not some young thing that’s enthralled with me. She’s like forty years old, has a couple of kids that don’t need her home with them anymore. She’s a great help though. I actually requested someone a little older.”

“Why’s that?”

“Some of the younger girls in the interview, when they actually came to speak with me, I don’t know, I just kept getting this weird vibe.”

“It’s because you’re so captivating. You’re intimidating, but charming.” You take another bite of food. “Sexy.”

“Oh, gimme a break.”

“I’m serious! You always made me feel nervous when we first started talking. You would always really sit back and observe the room before talking. You can be quiet sometimes. But that was you then, that’s just a version of you that I know, you could be different now.”

“I’d like to think so. Although, I think I’m just a good listener. I definitely like reading a room before I join a conversation.”

“I’m so happy to see you doing well.” You take a sip of your drink. “So...any lucky ladies or fellas in your life?”

“No.” He laughs. “M’way too busy for all that. I mean...I’ve had some fun here and there, I’m not celibate.” He takes a sip of his own drink. “What about you?”

“Nothing serious.” You shrug. “I haven’t minded being focused on my career, you know? I have a good work-life balance, don’t get me wrong, but like if I were in a relationship right now, I may not be making this move.”

“Tell me, if I didn’t live here would you still consider moving?”

“I don’t know. It’s a huge plus knowing I’d have someone close by, someone I know to show me around. If you had the time of course. You could even tell me what the good neighborhoods to live in are.”

“You could get a flat here. It’s a really nice building to be in. I bet you’d be able to afford it if I can. They want you to be a buyer?”

“Yeah, my boss thinks I have a great eye, and I always get the highest ratings from my clients.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m happy for you. I know last time we saw each other it didn’t seem like it, but I was really confused about the direction my life was going. I wasn’t happy.”

“You’re happy now?”

“Very much.”

“Good.” You put your hand over his. “It’s all I ever wanted for you, to be the best version of yourself.”

“Same here with you.” He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “I got some chocolate covered strawberries for dessert. Wanna move to the sofa?”

“Sure!”

You both sit down on his large sectional. You dive into the sweet treat.

“Do you entertain a lot?”

“Sometimes, yeah. I like it better than going to some stuff club. You can be out until four in the morning if you’re not careful.” He laughs.

“Well, I’d love for you to take me out to a club sometime.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice, love. I’ll take any excuse to dance with you.” His dimple peeks out in his grin, and it makes you melt. “When do you have to give them your decision by?”

“A few days. I’m headed back to New York tomorrow night.”

“How’s your hotel been?”

“It’s nice...not as cozy as this though.” You lean back into the cushions and look up at him.

“Yeah, I definitely don’t miss that about working in admissions. Different hotels all the time sounds like fun, but when you just wanna do your laundry and you can’t, it gets old really quick.”

“I can imagine.” You make a bold move and rest your hand on his knee. This time when you touch him he doesn’t shrug you away. “I think I may move here. I can home here and you can cook for me all the time, or you could bring me to your fancy parties.”

“Is that so?” He scoots a little closer to you. “It would get some people at the company off my back. They’re always askin’ why I never have a date to anything.”

“And why don’t you?”

“I don’t know, I’m there to work, not bring arm candy with me.”

“Ah, but that arm candy can help you network. I’m impeccable at networking.”

“Alright, so you’ll be my date then when I need one, is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” You smile.

“What about when there’s no fancy party? Can I call you for a date?”

“I’d like that.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I please kiss you?”

You nod yes. He leans in, cups your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours. They were soft, just like you remember. He takes them away a little too quickly for your liking though.

“What’s wrong?” You frown.

“I just don’t wanna, like, rush this, that’s all. I don’t even know what this is, but whatever it is, I don’t wanna mess it up this time.”

“Harry, you never messed anything up. We did the right thing before. I think we’re both in a place where we could have room to be together again. But, I think you’re right, one step at a time. Let me actually accept the job and move here before we dive into anything.”

“Exactly.” He sighs happily. “Okay, I’m gonna kiss you again, and then I’ll drive you to your hotel.”

You giggle as he smooches you again and again. Harry never really ever stopped loving you, and you could tell. You never really ever stopped loving him either.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles angst

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

A Calculated Risk (VHope)

⭒ AO3 Link Here!

⭒ Relationships: Hoseok x Taehyung ⭒ Genre: fluff, strangers to lovers ⭒ Final Rating: General Audiences ⭒ Word Count (Chapter): ~5.1k

⭒ Tags: fluff, getting together, strangers to lovers, anxious Hoseok, art student Taehyung, pre-slash

⭒ Summary: When Hoseok sees the crying young man on the plane next to him, he wonders if the calculated certainty of his life is really worth the loneliness.

⭒ A/N: This fic was written for our lovely sunshine Hoseok’s birthday!

Hoseok was good at staying out of trouble. He kept his head down, his nose out of business that wasn’t his, and his hands clean. It was how he’d gotten to become the youngest sales manager in his company. At twenty-six, it was unheard of to be such a powerful figure in the industry. Yet there he was, flying to a variety of countries, meeting with powerful men and women, convincing them to sign up, make contracts, do business. He liked his job okay. He did it well, he was charming, and he enjoyed being the face of a business that did good things for the world. But a part of Hoseok felt like there was something missing. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Rather… He knew what it was, but he didn’t want to know. He was lonely as hell. Random one night stands in a variety of hotel rooms that started to all look alike across the continents, a series of failed relationships with every gender and sex – most of them summing up to a singular thing. You’re too nice. There was never any excitement in Hoseok’s life, and he liked it that way. Excitement, the unknown, these were variables that did not turn out guaranteed positive results. And that’s what Hoseok’s life was built on. Taking risks was not in his vocabulary.

So, when Hoseok found himself seated next to the stunning young man with dark eyes and big ears on the way home from Canada, despite that fact that he desperately wanted to say something… He remained quiet. And he intended to remain quiet the entire way back to Korea. It was for the best. This man looked like a risk taker. Someone that Hoseok could never make happy.

Hoseok let his eyes slip shut, tapping out a rhythm on his arm rest. They’d been in the air for about an hour, and the young man had been staring at his phone the whole time. Easy then, to avoid contact, he figured.

He heard a sniffle, and grimaced; hopefully the boy wasn’t sick. He couldn’t afford to catch cold. He’d need to pick up some vitamin c just in case. Another sniffle, and a shaky sigh. Hoseok scowled. He cracked one eye and peeked over.

The young man was still looking at his phone, his blondish hair hanging down. But in the part of his exposed face, Hoseok could see tear tracks; he’d been crying. He was crying.

Hoseok shut his eyes again, his mouth forming a fine line.

‘Stay out of it, Hobi. Not your problem. Stranger on a plane. Stranger danger. Avoid risk. Crying handsome boy is a risk.’

“Are you okay?” The words were out of Hoseok’s mouth before he was even aware of asking

The boy looked over, sniffled, and nodded. His chin began to quiver and he shook his head no, but quickly yanked his hood up over his face, pulling his knees to his chest.

“I’ll be more quiet,” he whispered. His voice was low and rumbly, immediately sending chills of the good variety down Hosoek’s spine.

“No, I—That wasn’t it. You just look sad. Can I help?”

The boy shook his head no. “Just a breakup.”

Hoseok winced. “I’ve been through a lot of those,” he whispered, nodding. “I know you’ve probably heard it a lot from friends, but it does get easier.”

“I know. I’m sure it will. I just can’t believe I was so stupid… Coming all the way across the world to see him and he just—” He broke off. “Sorry.”

“No, continue.”

‘What are you doing, Hoseok. This is a risk. Risks are unnecessary in your life. Stop it.’ “It helps to vent sometimes. And we have plenty of hours.”

The boy nodded and chuckled weakly, swallowing hard. “He—We met online. And we hit it off and he promised… He promised me so much. So I saved up for years while we dated.. To come to Canada. To meet him and he just… One weekend and he dumped me.”

“Did he say why?”

“He found someone else. Someone who lives there. Turns out he’s been dating him for about six months… Didn’t tell me.”

“Oh God, what an asshole,” Hoseok muttered, his face twisting up in anger. “That’s fucking low, if you don’t mind me saying. Sure, breakups happen, but to be cheating, and to not tell you before…”

“He said he only wanted me to come so he could try to get a threesome in before we broke up. Figured I’d be happy to get his dick in real life once.” The boy gasped then and closed his mouth fast enough that his teeth clicked. “Oh God, I’m so sorry – that was way too much information.”

Hoseok chuckled. “A bit, but it’s okay. You didn’t sleep with the jackass did you?”

“God no, I’m not wasting my time. He can sleep with his creepy little affair on his own.”

“Good on you.” Hoseok hesitated before sticking his hand out. “My name’s Jung Hoseok.”

“Kim Taehyung. Are you from Korea?”

“Mhm, I live in Seoul. I was in Canada on business.”

“Really? What do you do?”

“I work for a company that helps supply hospitals with different equipment. We have contracts with a lot of countries. I go and sorta try to sell them the products, make sure they’re happy with what we’re doing, contracts, deals, all boring stuff.”

“But you get to travel? All over?”

Hoseok nodded. “Pretty much. It’s one of the perks of the job. Busy, but it’s nice to be on the move. What about you? You look pretty young.”

“Says you. All that stuff, sounds like you should be forty.”

Hoseok chuckled. “I should be. I’m lucky to have this position so young. I’m twenty-six.”

“I’m twenty-four. I just finished college. Art school. So… I’m unemployed.” Taehyung shrugged, looking down at his lap. “My friend says the coffee shop he’s working at is hiring, so I’ll check that out when I get back to Seoul.”

“What kind of art do you do?” Hoseok asked.

“All kinds, mostly drawing and photography. Uh…” Taehyung turned and grabbed his carry on. He pulled out a large black binder and held it up for a second. “You probably—Is this weird?” He asked.

“What?”

“I’m a stranger to you. You don’t really care about this. Or me…”

“I saw a handsome guy crying next to me. And, in talking to him… He stopped the tears. I care.” Hoseok held out his hand, letting Taehyung hand him the binder. He went through it page by page, blown away by the talent he saw encased in thin plastic sheets. The young man had an eye for detail, and for beauty. His photography in particular was absolutely stunning. Everything from piles of rocks to buildings to people, both posed and candid. His drawn art was unique and abstract, making Hoseok turn the book this way and that to really take in everything that was going on.

While he looked, he could feel Taehyung watching him, and could nearly sense the anxiety rolling off him. He cared what a stranger sitting next to him on a plane thought… It was sweet, and sad.

He finally closed the book and handed it back. “You’re only twenty-four?” He asked.

Taehyung nodded, chewing his bottom lip. “That work is stunning for your age, Taehyung. You’re really going to go a long way. I encourage you to look at companies you might not consider originally. Bigger tech companies and others that may not delve into the arts. They’re always looking for designers and photographers, and I bet your portfolio would really impress some of them. It’s probably not what you want to do long term, but a contract with a powerful company could really get you moving in the right direction. At least get you some funding if you wanted to do your own business or something similar.”

As Hoseok spoke, he could see Taehyung’s smile growing. It warmed his heart. Taehyung’s phone buzzed on his lap and he looked down, the smile that Hoseok had just put there drooping.

“The dickhead boyfriend, huh?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Taehyung emphasized, and Hoseok nodded. “He’s trying to make up with me.”

“And what do you want?”

“Him to go the fuck away. Forever. He broke my heart, he’s not allowed to do this.”

“Then ignore it.” Hoseok shrugged. “Turn off the phone. Let me buy you a drink.”

“Wh—What?”

Hoseok motioned to the stewardess that was making her way down the aisle. “Let’s keep your mind off the jerk, at least until you land. I’ll buy you a drink and we can watch some movies together.”

Taehyung smiled again, his eyes seeming to be searching Hoseok’s face for something. Hoseok motioned to the waitress, handing over his card. “I’ll have a beer, if you have any, and then whatever my friend here wants.”

She nodded. Taehyung smiled shyly. “Uh, I—I’ll take uh… Something sweet?” She nodded.

“I could make you a pineapple rum, if you’d like, it’s pretty sweet.”

Taehyung nodded as well. “I like pineapple.” She handed Hoseok his bottle and his card back after popping the cap off, as well as a cup to pour it in if he wanted. She set to work mixing Taehyung’s drink and passed it to him as well before continuing down the aisle. Hoseok reached out and tapped the screen in front of Taehyung.

“What genre gets your mind off idiot boys? Whatever you want.”

“Uh—I don’t know. I don’t watch movies that much, I guess…”

“Hm.” Hoseok flipped through the screen. “Not romance… Not drama. Tragedy. We could do comedy? Uh.. Action. Uh…”

“That one,” Taehyung pointed at an image of a cover. Hoseok hesitated. “That’s horror.”

Taehyung nodded.

“You like horror, eh?” He clicked it, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt. Good to know he figured – more proof this insane… Whatever the hell he was trying to do… Wouldn’t work. Those who liked horror took risks. And risks—

“I hate horror,” Taehyung said.

“So why watch it?”

“Because it’s scary and I hate it. It’ll keep my attention so I won’t be thinking about him.”

Hoseok hesitated, thinking for a moment. He had to admit, it was pretty sound reasoning. He nodded.

“Do you have headphones?”

Taehyung pulled out a handful of wire from his bag and nodded. Hoseok waved over the stewardess. “Do you have a jack splitter?” He asked. She nodded and dug around for a moment, handing one over to him.

“Thank you.”

They got set up with the splitter and Taehyung pulled down the window shield. Hoseok lifted the arm rest so they could sit a little closer, sharing the same small screen as the movie began. Hoseok hated horror so much. Within twenty minutes he was gripping the other armrest, his leg bouncing nervously. Taehyung had moved almost direction against his side and was gripping his other arm tightly, his eyes wide as he stared at the screen.

Each jump scare Hosoek and Taehyung would both jump, sharing a nervous glance and a giggle afterward.

Hoseok reached up at one point, taking Taehyung’s hand and twining their fingers. When Taehyung blinked at him, he smiled. “Easier to squeeze if you get scared. Less likely to scream.”

Taehyung grinned that bright grin again and nodded, looking back at the movie.

They made it through the rest of it, jumping and squeezing each other’s hands. Hoseok finished his drink and was tempted to order another, but figured sobriety would be an easier state to tackle scary movies in. When it finished, Taehyung reached out, finding the sequel and grinning at Hoseok.

“Another?”

Hoseok hesitated, but nodded. That smile… It was something else entirely. The way his heart picked up a few beats when Taehyung rested his head on his shoulder again, twining their fingers on the seat between them. The waitress came by and smiled softly. “Can I get you two anything?” She asked.

“We’re okay, I think. Taehyung?”

“I’m good. Thank you,” Taehyung smiled up at her and she nodded. The two turned their attention back to the film.

Six hours and three sequels later, Hoseok heard a soft snore. He shifted as gently as he could to see, smiling a bit when he realized Taehyung had fallen asleep on his shoulder. His heart still did that little pitter-patter. This was a problem. How could he let himself fall for a guy he’d just met? A guy who was willing to fly across the world to meet a stranger? A young, handsome guy who probably took risks like Hoseok changed socks and thought that going out without properly re-lacing his shoes every morning was totally acceptable. As Hoseok sat in silence, no longer needing to focus in order to potentially distract Taehyung as needed, his mood soured.

What was so wrong with him that people wanted nothing to do with him? He was safe, sure. And he was peculiar… But he wasn’t a bad man, he thought. Just because he didn’t take risks didn’t mean he was no fun. Or wasn’t a good person to be around. But time and time again that was the message. Not good enough. Not fun enough. Not exciting enough.

And this – this foolish idea that had begun formulating in his head, the fantasy that maybe this young man would be willing to give him a chance – it was frivolous at best. It was an unnecessary risk. The statistics, if Hoseok were to crunch them, were sure to show that the chances of Taehyung saying yes were low enough, staying with him beyond one date even lower, and staying with him long term statistically insignificant. So he was best just getting it out of his head now, before it sat and festered like a wound.

The film ended, as the others had, with a “dead” monster and a jump scare to leave it open, and Hoseok was too unhappy to even startle. He tugged the earbuds out and turned off the screen, sinking down a little to try and rest. And – despite his bitter mood as he drifted off to sleep – he couldn’t help but notice just how nice Taehyung felt on his shoulder.

Hoseok awoke with a good, hard stretch, blinking up at the roof of the plane. “Rest well?” Taehyung’s voice was soft and deep, and Hoseok felt goosebumps rise to his skin.

“I did. Did you?” He asked.

Taehyung nodded, leaning his head on the back of the seat. He shifted over and pulled his legs up into the seat so he was facing Hoseok directly. “Do you have a partner at home?”

“A what?”

“You know… Boyfriend or girlfriend.”

Hoseok shook his head. “Just me on my own. I work too much for dating.”

“Not true, necessarily,” Taehyung argued.

Hoseok half smiled. “That, and all my exes have told me I’m too boring.” He reached out and tapped the screen; fifteen minutes until they were set to land.

“Boring?”

“I don’t like unnecessary risk,” Hoseok explained. “I don’t like being surprised and I prefer to plan things so that they will – in as much statistical assurance as they can – go in the right direction.”

“I don’t see that as such a bad thing.”

Hoseok laughed. “You’d be one of the few. Most leave because I’m just too safe.”

“Sometimes people… Some people… Need safe,” Taehyung argued. He rested his chin on his knees. “I need safe.”

“You’re quite wounded,” Hoseok agreed, wondering if he was reading between the lines in the way Taehyung meant – or if it was wishful thinking.

The two sat in a comfortable silence as the plane descended. At least Hoseok figured it was comfortable. He was anxious, as he tended to be in social situations where he wasn’t sure what the other party was thinking. But Taehyung seemed relaxed, sitting next to him, flipping through his phone. Hoseok wondered if he was reading messages from the ex, or someone new. Did people move on so fast? He didn’t know. Usually other people asked him out, and he calculated the risk based on how well he knew them – not the other way around.

The two got off the plane and headed to the luggage carousel together, not purposely, but also not purposely straying from one another’s side either. As they waited, Taehyung looked over.

“ Am I right in thinking you’re gay?” He asked abruptly.

Hoseok blinked, hesitated… Then nodded. “You are.”

“And single. And a sweet guy who helped a crying stranger on the plane.”

“Wouldn’t you have?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung admitted, shrugging. He snagged his suitcase from the belt. “Let me give you my phone number.”

Hoseok took his own bag. “Why?”

“So we can go out on a date.”

Hoseok smiled sadly. “Taehyung…”

Taehyung’s smile drooped a little. “Oh. I misread.”

Hoseok shook his head. “Yes and no. You are a handsome young man, and I do find you interesting and fun to listen to. But we don’t know each other. And because of that, I can’t calculate the risk of going out with you.”

“So why not get to know each other? That’s what the point of dating is.”

“True. And I could, except even only knowing you for this short time… I can say with relative confidence that you would have minimal interest in me beyond a date or two.”

“And why is that?” Taehyung asked.

“I’m not your type.”

“Shouldn’t I decide that?” Taehyung chuckled. “You’re cute, nice, independent.”

“And utterly boring. While you’re the type that watches horror movies to feel better, and flies across oceans to meet a stranger in the hopes of finding true love. I could never take such risks. Or any risks, really. That’s why I’m not good for you.”

“Yeah, well look how good taking risks did me.”

“This time, maybe. But that’s the thing about risks. They can end badly. I don’t like that. I don’t like things ending badly.”

Taehyung sighed softly. His head drooped a little but he nodded. “I wish that wasn’t your answer, but I appreciate you being honest.”

Hoseok smiled weakly. “Look, Taehyung. You’re young, you’re handsome as hell, you’re talented. You’ll find a person to treat you right. That’s a good match for you.”

“I hope he’s like you, honestly.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know enough to know you’re smart and thoughtful. I hope he’s the type of person who’d help a crying stranger on a plane.” Taehyung reached out and grabbed Hoseok’s wrist. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Risks are scary, but the only way to truly be happy sometimes, is to take them. Just remember that. You took one today and you changed my whole mood – Possibly my whole week. Risks don’t always end badly, but you’ll never know unless you take them.” He let him go and sighed, pulling the handle up on his bag. “Have a good life, Hoseok. Maybe I’ll see you around one of these days.”

“Same to you, Taehyung. Keep your chin up.” Hoseok watched Taehyung walk off before heading off himself. Strangely, as he rode the bus back to his apartment (he’d calculated that the bus was far safer at this hour as opposed to a taxi), he felt… Not so sure about his decision with Taehyung.

He’d weighed his options, and saying yes to Taehyung had seemed like the riskier option. And risk equaled bad news. That motto had always worked for Hoseok. So why did it feel so bad?

As the days passed, turned into weeks, Hoseok thought less of Taehyung. He sometimes wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he found a good job or a nice boyfriend. If he ever thought of the strange, kind stranger on the plane who turned him down in the airport. Doubtful, Hoseok figured. He wasn’t memorable enough.

Whenever he did think of Taehyung, a small, painful knot formed in his stomach. The internet had said it was probably cancer, as those sites are apt to do, but his best friend, a med student, had ruled it as simply regret. Impossible, really, Hoseok didn’t have regrets. That was the great thing about calculating risks. He was confident in his choices and therefore had no need for regrets. Except this one, maybe.

Two and a half months after Taehyung and Hoseok had departed the airport, Hoseok was having a bad day.

He’d woken up late – something he never did. He’d been forced to take a bus because it was safer than a taxi at the hour he’d be on the road, but it also made him an hour late. On the way to his office, briefcase and coffee in hand, he’d tripped – having tied his shoelace haphazardly – and spilled his coffee down his front in an attempt to prevent himself from face planting into the wall. Which meant a trip to the nearby mall – this time walking distance – to get a replacement shirt, seeing as he had a presentation… That he was three minutes and fourteen seconds late to.

After the fiasco of the presentation, Hoseok sat outside for a few minutes during his lunch, attempting to re-gather his bearings and finish his day strong. It was working too. He felt calmer, he felt like the rest of the day would be great. Just a quick pop over to one of the quick eateries to grab a bite before his lunch hour was finished. He flipped his wrist to check the time, scowling when nothing but tanned skin peeked out of his shirtsleeve. Right. He’d forgotten to put on his watch in his rush this morning. No problem, the world was technologically advanced for a reason. He opened his briefcase and pushed some papers around, hunting for his phone. It was tucked away in the pocket. And absolutely dead when Hoseok tried the power button.

He huffed and snapped his briefcase shut.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he called to a middle-aged woman walking across the sidewalk in front of him. He bowed politely. “Sorry to bother you, but do you have the time? My phone is dead.”

“Oh, of course. It’s one forty-three.”

Hoseok’s eyes bulged. He scrambled to his feet, startling the woman.

“Sorry!” He cried, bowing again. “Late back to work. Thank you so much.”

He rushed off toward the office once more, feeling even more frazzled than when he’d left for lunch. How had he sat there for a full hour and fifteen minutes nearly? He never lost track of time like that. His days were simply too busy.

Hoseok berated himself as he turned into his office building. How had his day turned out so badly? He hadn’t done anything different the night before. There was no change in diet or weather or season or schedule to throw him off. So what the hell was going on?

Hoseok was so up in his head that he failed to see the young man turning the corner as he did. The two collided, and Hoseok went down, skidding on his butt as his briefcase, not shut firmly from his earlier panic, opened and scattered papers across the hall. The man in front of him swore then gasped as he fell as well.

Hoseok looked at him, his eyes bulging. “Taehyung?!” He spluttered.

Taehyung gasped, yanking his headphones from his ears. His hair was shorter, a little neater to his head, and he was wearing a nice dress shirt and slacks. He had a black binder under his arm. “Hoseok!”

He scrambled to his feet, setting the binder down and going to help Hoseok gather the papers.

“How have you been?”

“Good, what are you doing here?” Hoseok asked, piling them back in his briefcase.

“I’ve got a job interview. I mean I had one. For my art. This place is looking for a new marketing team member and I thought my photography and art might be good. Plus, I’ve improved my computer art skills too. What about you? Why are you here?”

“I work here,” Hoseok said, standing up straight and brushing himself off.

“No way, what a crazy coincidence,” Taehyung said, grinning. “They really liked my stuff.”

“We’re in desperate need of some fresh blood in that department,” Hoseok agreed. He hesitated, his heart doing a strange little stutter step now that they stood so close to one another.

“How have you been?” He asked after a second.

Taehyung smiled a little distantly. “I’m okay. I got over the breakup. Took some time, but I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah? Found a new partner?” What a strange feeling, Hoseok thought. That clench in my chest. I hope it’s not heart trouble…

“No, still single.”

Ah, it’s released now, probably just a fluke from my crazy day.

“I see,” Hoseok replied lamely.

“And you? Found someone perfectly safe?”

“Not really looking,” Hoseok admitted. “I mean, not opposed, but… I tend not to ask people. Ah…” He shrugged awkwardly. “When do you find out if you get the job?”

“They’ll call me later this week.”

“Ah, good. Well. Maybe I’ll see more of you around then. Must be going now…” He hesitated once more before moving past Taehyung toward the stairs. Taehyung grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Hoseok… The airport. When you refused me…”

Hoseok swallowed hard, lowering his gaze.

“I’m glad you did. I needed time to recover mentally from the breakup and get myself back together.”

“Good. I’m glad. You’ll be all the better for it.”

“But,” Taehyung pressed, still not letting his wrist go. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about you. And my interest in you hasn’t faded.”

“Taehyung…”

“I don’t want danger right now, Hoseok. I want you to know that. I want calm. I want peace and relaxation and a steady, firm ground. Someone to support me, that I can support just as much. Someone who isn’t going to go wild, and would rather stay inside playing a board game or snuggle on the couch with a good action movie than go run a marathon. Just so you know.” Taehyung let him go, his face pinching for a moment.

Hoseok hesitated, not sure how to respond. His hesitation must have told Taehyung something though, because Taehyung tugged a pen out of his pocket. He walked over to the entrance desk, thankfully unmanned for lunch, and snagged a sticky note from it. He scrawled on it and slapped it into Hoseok’s palm.

“It’s a risk. I know that. But think about it. I’m free this week… Pretty much all week.”

Hoseok nodded, taking the paper. “I will. Be safe… The cars…”

“I will. Enjoy work.” Taehyung put his earbuds back into his ears and grabbed his portfolio before he headed out the door.

Hoseok watched him go before looking at the sticky note in his hand. Taehyung’s number was written on it, along with his name. Hoseok’s chest clenched again, and his stomach knotted up in that little twist. So maybe he did like Taehyung. He sighed and tucked the number into his pocket before hurrying up the stairs to try and get some work done before he ended up staying late.

Unfortunately, the events of lunch did not lend themselves well to an atmosphere of hard work and focus. Hoseok’s mind kept drifting. To Taehyung, to the number in his pocket, to what he’d said. He wanted safe. He described exactly the type of man that Hoseok was. Safe, boring in the eyes of so many, and said that was his ideal. Was he being honest? There was no reason for him to lie, really, Hoseok figured. So why not be honest. Would it change? Maybe. Probably, if he was being honest with himself. Most of the time humans did change. But was that such a bad thing?

Of course it’s a bad thing. Change is uncalculated… Change is a risk.

“Shut up,” Hoseok whispered to himself. He scooped up his desk phone and dug Taehyung’s number out of his pocket.

Taehyung picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Is this Taehyung?”

“Hoseok? Yeah it’s me.”

“I’m free tomorrow night. I thought I’d be free tonight but… I seem to be quite distracted and will likely not be leaving the office in time for dinner.”

“Tomorrow night,” Taehyung repeated. Hoseok could hear what he thought was a smile in his voice. “Dare I suggest… I could pick you up something for dinner. If you wanted. Since I know where you work.”

Hoseok hesitated. What if he was late tomorrow because of it? What if he couldn’t sleep? What if he said something silly to Taehyung because he was tired? “I—”

“Too big of a risk?” Taehyung offered.

“Yes. I’m sorry. Was this a mistake? I’m so strange.”

Taehyung’s laugh was bright, and Hoseok’s heart skipped a few beats. “You’re not weird. You are. But I like it. Tomorrow night is fine, but please remember to eat tonight, okay? Even if it’s something quick. You’re going to feel worse if you don’t.”

“You are likely correct.”

“Is this a cell phone?”

“No, office… My cell phone is dead.”

“Well, when it charges, why don’t you text me. You can pick a place, I’m not really all that picky about food except I don’t like super spicy things. We can decide the best way to meet up and the details then, or tomorrow morning and afternoon. Does that work?”

“That sounds good. Very planned… Thank you for being patient and understanding.”

“I want this to work out, Hoseok.”

Hoseok hesitated. “I’d say… It’s a calculated risk.”

“How are the rewards?” Taehyung asked, a grin in his tone. “Do they greatly outweigh the risks?”

Hoseok smiled a little to himself. “No. Frankly, they are… Probably pretty balanced. But with great risk comes great reward, or whatever the daredevils say, right? This reward seems too good to pass up.”

“And what reward is that?” Taehyung teased.

“Oh, one of a kind. A beautiful boy. Even better, one that is okay with me being weird and boring.”

“Sounds like a good reward.”

“I agree. So… I’ll text you when I get off work and charge my phone, okay?”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“Goodnight.” Hoseok hung up, staring at his phone for a moment after he did. What a risk. That was a huge risk, who was he kidding?

He turned back to his computer, working on spreadsheets while going through a mental list of good restaurants for a first date. It was a risk, no denying that. But sometimes, every now and then, the reward is worth the risk.

#vhope #thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #btsguild #networkbangtan #bangtanxm #fluff #taeseok #taehyung x hoseok

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hklnvgl · 3 years

Text

but for their voices (ii)

(for the first week of the Mister Impossible Countdown by @pynchpromptweek : Adam’s College Experience! tw: past child abuse)

2/4 | ao3 | from the beginning

Ronan and his lips were back in town.

Benjy kept telling everyone who cared to listen how wonderful this coffee shop was, so Adam had suggested it as a meeting place. It was cozy and full of plants, and even though it was quite busy they managed to get a quiet table.

The only problem was their menu was huge and full of options, and Ronan’s greeting hug had overwhelmed Adam enough to effectively leave him unable to choose anything from this long list of things he’d never tried before.

“I’ll just have a cup of coffee,” he eventually said, when Ronan had grown bored of pretending to read his own menu and had moved on to tearing paper napkins apart.

“No cake?”

“I had a big lunch,” Adam lied, because what was he supposed to say? I’ve never actually had red velvet nor carrot cake and these are all quite expensive anyway, so I’ll just make myself a sandwich when I get home and be done with it?

Ronan shrugged. He stood up to go order, allowing Adam a moment to take a deep breath.

This was going to work. He was going to make it work.

Ronan slid back into his chair. He brought a tray with two cups of coffee, no pastries in sight.

“They’re out of fucking donuts,” Ronan said. Adam hadn’t asked.

Adam should have prepared a list of conversation topics.

“So how’s the farm?” he asked, after a few silent moments, because most of the texts Ronan had sent him since they met were random facts about his animals and his crops and a surprising amount of information about garden power tools.

Ronan shrugged. “You know, it’s a farm. There’s always shit that needs fixing and stuff to buy and stuff to sell. You should come sometime.”

Adam stilled. “Where was it again?”

“Virginia. You’ll like it, I think. I’ll take you to watch the sunrise from the top of a barn and everything. Best shit there’s in the world.”

Adam nodded, dumbly, because Ronan had this little smile on his face when he talked about his farm. About Adam in his farm. He’d promised himself he’d never go back to Virginia, but he was used to breaking all kinds of promises by now. He’d also promised himself he’d be a new Adam once he started college, and here he was, freaking out because he’d been invited to a boy’s home.

“As long as your parents don’t mind—” he muttered, not really sure he wanted to make the commitment, feeling bold and daring at the same time because he actually longed to see the place that had raised Ronan Lynch.

Ronan’s laugh was sharp. “Nah, you don’t have to worry about that. At all, man.” His grin grew larger. Colder, too, matching his icy eyes. Adam tilted his head. “They’re both dead, so—”

Great. This was why Adam didn’t normally ask about other people’s families. There was all kinds of shit out there that people didn’t want to see brought up by strangers when trying to relax in front of an overpriced cup of coffee.

“Sorry,” Adam said. Why had he thought coming here was a good idea? He should leave the talking to Ronan, who probably knew how to speak to people without making a mess of himself.

“It’s alright. Well, it’s not, obviously, but it’s been some time, and I’m better now. Keeping myself busy helps, and all that.”

“Yeah.” Adam wanted Ronan to stop talking. He didn’t want Ronan to tell him more about his family or about what he’d lost. Those were things that were supposed to stay secret. You weren’t supposed to bring them up and wield them around like they were some kind of unescapable truth. You weren’t supposed to show strangers your pain. Because that’s what they both were, right? Strangers. You didn’t owe anything to strangers, and Adam wanted to keep it that way.

Because if Ronan trusted Adam with this, wouldn’t he also expect Adam to give something of himself in return?

“My dad was murdered,” Ronan said then. All trace of a smile had disappeared from his face. It made him look older.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat.

What was he doing? Why didn’t he stop Ronan?

It’d happened all over again—he kept manipulating people into thinking Adam was this kind soul, selfless and gentle, with a heart big enough to carry other people’s problems and sorrow and make it all better. He’d done it with all the friends he’d made since arriving at Harvard, and then he’d fed them all these stories about a wonderful Adam Parrish who was reliable and generous and very far from the true Adam, who was just sitting there at this diminutive table while Ronan poured his heart into the open for Adam to pick the pieces he liked and destroy the rest.

Ronan shouldn’t be telling all this to Adam.

He didn’t know where Adam came from and what he was capable of.

“I used to drink a lot, back then. It got pretty bad—I fucked a lot of things up.” Ronan’s fingers drummed against the table. Adam wondered if taking them into his hands would shut Ronan up.

“I’ve never actually been to a farm,” Adam said.

Ronan blinked, as if realizing he was still there, and all the things he’d said, and how he’d said them to the wrong person.

But then he smiled, because Adam was good at what he did, and he’d tricked Ronan, too.

“Fucking town boy. It’s settled, then. You have to come.”

Adam felt something warm pool in his stomach. Shame, probably, but also having Ronan’s eyes meet his.

When they finished their coffee, Ronan dropped Adam off at the dorms before heading to Gansey’s off-campus apartment.

Adam knew he should say something before Ronan left. Something equally important as what Ronan had so carelessly told him, or at least something more substantial than the bickering they were currently having about Ronan’s taste in music.

Ronan deserved Adam’s truth. As usual, Adam couldn’t afford to pay the price.

He leaned over the gearshift and cupped Ronan’s face with his hands. He waited one, two, three beats, but Ronan didn’t move. He didn’t shove Adam away or turned his face.

Adam kissing Ronan’s lips was Adam giving him the pieces of himself that he could part with. It wasn’t near enough, Adam knew. But Ronan’s cheeks were flushed when he left, so perhaps it could work for a while.

At least, until Ronan saw the real Adam beneath.

(next chapter)

#pynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch #trc #mister impossible #tdt #cdth #pynch fic #fic #cw child abuse #d #but for their voices

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allandoflimbo · 4 years

Text

Take It Back (Chapter 22)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: About five years ago, a one night stand with Y/N tore Bucky’s life apart. It was also the night before his wedding. Now he’s married to her sister and she needs a place to stay.

Chapter Warnings: Some language, mentions of cheating and sex. Like I've said before, this story is filthy.

MASTERPAGE |

Chapter 21

Two years later.

“We’ve been doing so well for five years that I found it strange that nothing has broken us yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m paranoid, maybe I’m just expecting something to blow up in our face. Like I feel like sometimes it’s hard for you to see how much I really do love you.”

Ashlyn’s heartfelt response made Bucky sigh.

“We’re in our new home, Ash. We’re literally on top of the world, and I’m on it with you. Of course, I see it.”

“Yeah?”

He smiled softly.

“Yes. We’ve worked on our issues and we’re doing so well.”

Silence. Two hands were on the back on his neck, dark eyes looking into his.

“Have you ever made love, Bucky?”

The question caught him off guard and Bucky’s heart was suddenly in his throat.

“Five years and I’ve to think I’ve never made love to you. It's always just been sex. I’ve always wanted to, though.”

“Ashlyn...”

“Baby, let me show you how much I love you.”

He wanted to rip her hands off his neck, but instead, he reached around and held them tighter against his skin.

And for the first time in a while, he thought of you. He finally admitted to himself that he still wanted you.

After much denial, he caved and thought of you as he fucked his wife.

Bucky couldn’t take it.

His heart kept shattering over and over again as he grabbed her small neck in his hands, the neck of someone that was supposed to be his wife.

He felt hot tears behind his eye lids as he sobbed into her neck, as he attempted to make love to her, knowing he was doing so miserably. Because it wasn't love, what he felt for Ashlyn was no longer love.

Just respect.

He grabbed her hair in his hands and whimpered as he tried to allow himself to feel.

He had put up a wall around his heart for so long, trying to be this horrible person he really wasn’t; all of it just to forget you.

He was supposed to love his wife by now, he had hoped to especially because of how well she had been treating him lately. She was truly trying to become better and she had.

They finally had a great life together, they had it all, but he still loved you.

And he hated you for it.

“Bucky, baby gonna cum.” Ashlyn had cried, tightening her legs around him.

He came into her with a shout.

He should’ve known everything had changed, that he had finally admitted to himself that he was not over you and that he needed to talk to Ashlyn about it. He knew this the moment he felt the disgust run up his spine at what he had just done- what he kept doing.

He wasn’t an unfaithful man.

He was prepared to finally look the barrel of the gun down the eye, but what he wasn’t prepared for was for Ashlyn to hand him a little gift back five weeks later with a bib inside along with a positive pregnancy test.

Daddy’s little baby.

The bib had read.

Bucky was shocked. He had thought Ashlyn had been on birth control - he was not ready to be a father. And most importantly, he didn’t want to have a child with her.

He had held Ashlyn in his arms as she rejoiced.

Afterward, when she was in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, Bucky’s head had been in the toilet as he violently puked out his nerves.

He hated the situation he was in, and he hated you.

“Steve, did you buy more tomatoes like I asked?”

A muffled response came from behind the closed bedroom door down the hall as you rummaged through the refrigerator.

Looking one last time behind the bottles of random condiments - ketchup, mustard, soy sauce, and Worcestershire sauce- you cursed under your breath as you dropped a garlic glove from between your fingers.

Brodi’s little nose was sniffing at the clove at your feet before you realized it.

“Brodi, honey, stop it. This is for din-din.” You said playfully as you reached down to grab the garlic.

Brodi stuck his tongue out at you and you sighed contently.

You hadn’t even had the chance to get dressed yet, barely making it through the door before already preparing a nice dinner for you and Steve.

Giving up on finding those extra tomatoes, you turned your attention back to the cutting board in the counter.

The last two years living with Steve had been amazing. You couldn’t have asked for a better roommate.

It all started when he spoiled you by offering the largest bedroom in the apartment.

He was kind. He’d let you call dibs on the shower whenever you wanted and on Netflix. He was understanding. He would respect your boundaries on your lowest days - especially on those days- when you needed to be alone and just sulk in silence.

Steve lived in a nice three-bedroom apartment on the upper west side, right off West 88th St, and it was more than what you ever thought you deserved. But with much gratitude and kindness, you took his offer and accepted it.

His gesture never went unnoticed by you. It wasn’t every day you were offered such a comfortable living situation.

When you first moved in, you had asked him why he lived in a place with two spare rooms if he lived by himself to which he simply responded that he used to have roommates that lived with him fresh out of college but over time as they each began to make their own money and eventually got married, they got their own place.

Steve never moved out, he was able to afford it all himself anyway, so it worked out perfectly.

Barnes Enterprises has blessed him with a beautiful salary at the time.

Speaking of Barnes Enterprises, you hadn’t spoken to him in five years, but it wasn’t like you didn’t own a television or a smart phone. You knew that The Barnes were now living a happy and wealthy life somewhere across town in a prestigious penthouse somewhere on the East Side by the river.

You tried not to think about it, you tried not to think of him anymore.

It took you about five months to get used to living a somewhat upper-class life.

You still settled for doing the same things you always did, vowing to yourself to never change just because you were now more comfortable. You would take the train - the M track - every day across the said river to Brooklyn to work at the coffee shop, where you had been promoted to Manager (but truth be told you were looking for something closer now). You never thought you would be one of those New Yorkers that could wear headphones the entire commute to work on the train ride and on the walk to work. You were always worried you’d accidentally miss your stop or miss something important, like if the train derailed or if you wanted to pay extra attention to a bum that was doing crazy things on your train.

You were surprised that only a few months in, you were able to simply count the stops in your head, and let your feet drag you to where you needed to go on a will of their own. You weren’t like the tourists who waited for the walking man crossing to light up on the sign to cross the street while you blast your favorite song of that week.

You didn’t think you’d fit in so well, learn the city so well. And yet you did.

On your way home, you’d go to the little market and buy some groceries when you had the chance, and if not, you’d try to at least stop by at home first, In one arm you’d have the ingredients for the night’s dinner, and in the other holding a leash walking Steve’s Boston Terrier, Brodi.

You were more than thankful that Steve let you keep Pebbles, and even more so when Brodi and Pebbles got along fairly well.

The dynamic between the both of you had changed gradually and then suddenly.

You knew what you were getting yourself into.

The first few months living with Steve you would feel his lingering eyes on you during small nonintimate moments. Like when you were preparing breakfast, trying to flip one of the pancakes, or when you were reaching across the coffee table to grab the remote control.

Part of you felt bad for him, you knew very well how he felt about you.

It wasn’t until your sixth month living with Steve that you walked in on him tying on some nice dress shoes. You had leaned against his door frame with a small smile and crossed arms and asked where he was going dressed so nicely.

His cheeks turned a sight shade of red.

“I have a date.” He had said smugly.

It had caught you off guard at first. You could still feel his lingering gazes, his comments with underlying meaning.

Not that you were trying to play him or that you enjoyed the attention, but more so because you wanted to feel the same way back desperately. You wanted to move on, you wanted to love another man, especially a good one at that. You prayed that with time maybe it would happen.

Maybe life would give you another chance. You wanted a distraction from your late-night thoughts when you would still think of Him and how he used to make you laugh, how he used to kiss you, how you felt when you saw That dress, and how he had felt when he had made love to you in his bed that he now shared with his wife.

Steve and Sharon didn’t last long. Four months later at some ungodly hour of the night, Steve had walked in drunk into your shared apartment. It was hard to miss the way his keys had slammed onto the kitchen counter, the way he had looked into your eyes when he pleaded with you and cried asking why you just wouldn’t love him. Why you wouldn’t kiss him again, finally give it a try.

After his pleading moment, you had held him tightly to your chest as he finally told you that Sharon had dumped him.

Maybe this was your chance and maybe you should finally give it that try.

You had run your hands up the side of his face, allowing his ears to slide in between the edges of your finger tips. With slight hesitancy, you had angled his head down to yours and You kissed him.

You gave it a try- you and him.

You knew it might’ve not been the best idea, especially since he was your roommate, but part of you secretly hoped this was finally the escape you needed, the once you’ve been asking for.

You’ve been given The chance to move on, with someone else.

You wished you felt more in your shared second kiss, god how you had prayed for it. It was sweet and gentle, but it lacked that fire that you had felt when you kissed Bucky.

And that made your heart shatter.

But you pushed it down and kept trying to make it work. Six months had eventually passed and here you were.

Tonight was your turn to cook dinner and you had worked late at the coffee shop. You had called Steve on your way home asking if he could pick up some tomatoes since you were exhausted.

With another sigh, you quickly shut the refrigerator door.

“Did you find them?”

His happy and jittery voice came from behind you.

You turn around slightly after putting the freshly washed vegetables on the cutting board to see a tight towel hung low on his hips. Your cheeks turned a slight pink shade as he walked up behind you, taking your hips in his hands.

He moaned slightly as he placed a small kiss on the side of your neck.

He loved kissing you.

“So you did get them?”He chuckled slightly against your skin and the rumble made you smile.

“Of course,” he continued his trail of kisses up your neck and to the back of your ear, “Why don’t we do something else instead, though?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked.

When the words left his lips you felt something cold in the pit of your stomach and you tensed against him. Steve noticed this and slightly cleared his throat to prepare for the upcoming rejection that he had heard a one too many times.

He’s noticed how you’ve been together for months, and you haven’t slept with him yet, he noticed how you kept avoiding it. How you would lie and say you were too tired, just to get up and watch some tv or look on your phone. How when he would drag his hand just slightly up your thigh, how you would grab it and intertwine his fingers with yours.

He was even starting to wonder if you didn’t believe in sex before marriage.

With a deep breath, you removed his arm from around you, “I’m hungry, I should cook."

”We can order take out.” He murmured against your hot flesh.

You started feeling dizzy, sick to your stomach.

“Come on.” He returned his arm to your lower tummy, “We can order take out. We haven’t had Thai in a while.”

You felt the bile in your throat, the strong hammering of your heart against your rib cage.

“I don’t want Thai, Steve. I want to make home made dinner,” You remove his arm one more time, this time sharply. Your voice was borderline imploring now, “Why don’t you go get dressed and then pick out something good for us to watch?”

Steve gave you a look that made you want to smack yourself across the face. You could see the look of shame in his sad puppy eyes.

Damn you.

You were glad that Brodi decided at that moment to hop on his back legs to get Steve’s attention. Steve let go of you and looked down at his little dog.

You watched in shame and guilt as Steve called Brodi to follow him to his room. He didn’t even look back at you.

——

One moment you had been cuddled in his lap as you watched TV. Then you felt his hands on you and you allowed it.

You needed to try. You needed to stop feeling like you didn’t deserve it.

Quickly, The air between both of you became thick and he stared up at you. You felt yourself gulp as you felt the soft skin of his palm against the side of your face.

You felt physically sick to your stomach. You felt like a whore.

You didn’t deserve his kindness, his love. What you were doing to him was killing you for the first time in five years.

Why were you doing this to him? Letting him touch or kiss something so vile?

You were your own worst enemy, but with a great cause.

You had gone head first into this, hoping that something innocent could become something great. That what you had with Bucky would be something you could eventually shove under the rug and that you would eventually work things out with Steve. That’s why you never blew off the idea.

Dating him had been exciting the first few months, but for some reason, as you now sat in his lap and with the way he was looking up at you, it finally hit you how much you did not want him.

What the hell was wrong with you? Did your heart really want to betray you that much?

The soft feeling of his lips on yours caused you to close your eyes even more tightly together.

Maybe if you just tried…

You felt him grasp the back of your neck harder, bringing you down harshly against him. The feeling of his tongue dancing around yours caused him to moan.

It wasn’t until he had flipped you over so you were laying on the couch beneath him, his lips on your neck, and his hand bringing your thigh around his back when you felt the disgust in the pit of your stomach.

You were disgusted with yourself, you were ridden with an absurd amount of guilt.

You couldn’t take it, not when you kept picturing his best friend.

Five years and you still kept hoping.

“Steve, no!”

Your shout came from somewhere inside of you the moment his fingers touched the bare of your tummy, like a natural reflex.

Steve pulled back, startled. You looked up at him with guilt, feeling dirty, as he sat back on his feet kneeling between your open legs.

You tried to close them in shame.

Steve looked confused and worried. He knew you’d kept stalling around this, but he wasn’t expecting that exclamation from you.

“Did I hurt you? I am so sorry-“

What was wrong with you? Steve was perfect, he was a gentleman, he was gorgeous, he was everything you’ve ever wanted in a man, and here you were not wanting to go through with it.

Why? Why couldn’t you just give yourself this opportunity, why did you keep pushing him away?

Damn you, you knew why.

He was cut short as your face crumbled and hot tears started leaking in your eyes.

How could you do this to him? To everyone.

You couldn’t take it anymore. At that moment, you realized you could no longer hold it in, any of it.

Steve pulled back even farther as he rose to stand up on his feet. He had a feeling in his chest that something was really wrong.

He knelt down next to your face on the couch and softly touched the side of your face.

“Stop it, Stevie.” You begged softly turning away but not necessarily pulling away.

“You’re scaring me.” He mumbled, “did I touch you wrong? Please. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head furiously from side to side.

“No, it’s not that,”

He swallowed hard, his eyes narrowing together in concern.

“Tell me.” He pleaded, hands softly touching your forehead.

“I need to tell you the truth.”

His breath hitched in his throat and he paused before asking further.“What are you talking about?”

Your bottom lip trembled as you brought it between your lips.

“I can’t do it.”

His eyes trailed over your features, considering your words delicately.

“If you’re not ready, we can wait, it’s okay. I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do yet-“

God, why was he so damn sweet?“It’s not that- I can’t,” He looked at you confused. You looked into his eyes and repeated, “I can’t.”

His face immediately changed from sad to blank and he began to understand what you were saying.

The silence became unbearable as you felt him rip his hand off your face. His face was red as he stood up quickly on his feet.

“What are you doing to me?”

The question made a soft sob escape your throat.

“I gave you a place to live, I gave you so many good things-“

“Because you are my close friend and you have a good heart. Not because of your feelings. I know you, Stevie.”

You knew you couldn’t have said anything more heartless.

But your heart was ramming away inside of you now.

“I gave you my love,” he continues. you felt more tears in the back of your throat as you turn your face towards the back fo the couch in shame, “I gave you five years of my life because you asked me to wait for you and suddenly you ‘can’t’? You told me to wait. You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, Stevie, I always hoped something for us.”

“‘No. If you did, you wouldn’t suddenly not want this.”

“I want to want this!”

“Then what the hell is the problem?”

You were silent.

He literally recoiled as he observed your face.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Silence. “Please, for the love of God just for once tell me the truth. Is it because of him?”

There was another silent break before you nodded shortly.

You heard an intake of a sharp breath followed by an aggravated groan.

Fear crept into your body as you slowly brought yourself to sit up, hiding your face behind your hair.

Steve just stared at you in disbelief.

“How long?”You were confused by his answer.

“For how long have you loved him?” His voice broke, “Since the wedding night? Since before you two met? Since you met me?”

“Steve-“

“No, Y/N. I should’ve known. I always had this feeling, but I thought no that wouldn’t happen. You wouldn’t lead me on for so long.”

“Steve, listen to me-“

I don’t wanna hear your little pleading voice anymore because this is serious. I wasted five years of my life on this. You wasted five years of my life pinning over something that was pointless-“

“It wasn’t pointless, would you stop with that.”

“If it wasn’t pointless then what was it? You know I was waiting for you.”

“But you went out with Shanon.”

“Because I was trying to keep myself distracted. Do you know how hard it is to wait for something, for someone that doesn’t communicate.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“Should’ve told you? You knew this! God, and you kissed him. I can’t stop picturing the two of you ever since you told me. I tried to push it down and eventually I did but it kept coming up.”

There was silence between the both of you for a few long seconds and all you could hear wAs your breathing.

You had to tell him the truth.

“It wasn’t just a kiss.” You whispered.

Steve raises a brow and tilts his head, not sure if he heard right.

You raised your head up slightly so you were looking him dead in the eye. Some of the strands of your messy hair stuck to the side of your face in a disarray, “It wasn’t just a kiss that night.”

You whimpered.

Steve felt many emotions at that moment. Shock, anger, jealousy.

He literally recoiled as he stepped back.

“No…” he whispered shaking his head in disbelief, “He wouldn’t- he wouldn’t do that to her, to me. You wouldn’t.” You felt his burning gaze on the side of your face as the air between the both of you became hot, "Why would you hide something like that?” His voice was broken.

“Because I wanted to make it go away, I wanted to pretend it didn’t happen!”

“Why? So you could then make a move with me? His best friend?”

“No! Because it was wrong!”

“Then why did you guys do it in the first place?”

“It just happened.”

He scoffed “Shit like that doesn’t just happen, y/n! You don’t just sleep with someone who was already in a committed relationship. Are you kidding? it was in the making. Shit I should’ve known something was up when he went missing that night. He was with you. And That’s why you ran away.”

You sniffed loudly. He still remained in the same spot still and in disbelieve. Hurt.

“Why are you telling me this?” He asks pathetically, “Why now?”

“Because I can’t hold it in anymore.”

“I just want you to stop and think about what you’ve done to me, to your sister. Damnit, even that bastard that I call my best friend. He shouldn’t have done what he did, but you shouldn’t have ran out on him like that. Underneath his stubbornness and his foolish acts, he’s a good man. What you did was not right. What you did to any of us. For once, stop thinking about what you want and what others want. Damn it, I loved you. You know I always have. But this breaks my heart. Prove to me that you’re still the strongest woman I know.”

You were shocked at his change of heart. You felt guilty.

“You still love him and I have a feeling there’s a lot left unsaid between the both of you.”

You didn’t deny is as you remained quiet.

Steve allowed himself to take a couple of deep breaths, now matter how much pain he was in.

“Does Ashlyn know?”

“No. And I don’t think he would tell her either.”

“She’s going to be devastated when you do.” He added quickly as he spun around to grab your phone off the coffee table.

Fear crept up your chest as you eyed him and the phone in his hand.

“What?”

“She has to know. This was so wrong. What you both did to each other, to everyone around you; it was wrong.” You watched as he blinked violently, trying to keep his tears at bay, “I can’t even stand to look at you right now,” He took a deep breath as his hand stopped over your phone, “I don’t want you here.”

“Steve, please-“

“I don’t want you here because by you staying here all you’re doing is running away. You have to tell them,” His voice was surprisingly calm as he continued, “You have to tell her especially. Because what you both did is so wrong. For the sake of all of us. And you’re just hurting me more now. I loved you. And god, I still do even after all this. Which is why I’m giving you a chance. You can come back, but only after you tell everyone about what’s really going on.”

You shook your head quickly, already imagining your sister’s reaction.

His reaction.

You gulp, “I can’t- I can’t do that.” Your blurry eyes watched as he reached out to you, your phone in his hand,

“Call her, and tell her you need a place to stay. You need to talk this out-“

“-I’m not a home wrecker, Steve. I’m not a damn mistress. I can’t destroy them.”

You both said at the same time.

Steve watched you as he took in a deep breath.

“I didn’t say you were, and I don’t know what happened between the both of you. But You can’t keep it hidden. I’m making you go there, I’m going to help you stop running away from your past.”

“Steve.” You begged, “I can’t.”

“You will,” He looked you dead in the eye, “You’re lucky I’m not a bawling mess right now for you, because I sure like hell want to be.”

You didn’t know what to say to that as you stared at the throw pillow on the side of the couch in shame, but yet relieved all the same.

Steve finally knew the truth, and something about that felt liberating.

But he was right, you had to stop thinking about you and just you. Right now, you were hurting everyone.

Especially Steve.

“Please, it will make everything better.” He whispered.

Hesitant at first, you take your phone from his grasp. You stare at it for a few seconds longer than necessary.

“I’m sorry.” “Stop, Y/N-“ “Listen, please.”

You begged. Finally, he met your eye and you saw a flicker of hope in them.

“I’m sorry I haven’t moved on. It has nothing to do with you, I still wanted us to try, regardless of the past.”

Steve stared at you as he took in your words. He nodded shortly.

“I believe you. Look, give her a call. Get this whole thing straightened out, and when you are ready, really ready, to come back, I’ll be here waiting for you.”

You considered his proposal.

If shit hit the fan with Ashlyn and Bucky, at least you would have someone to run back to.

“You’re a selfless man, Steve.”

He knew that by you taking this step, it would finally allow you to heal.

You were finding your sister’s number and about to call her when Steve’s hand landed on your left shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with loving someone. It’s how you handle it that makes the difference.”

You pondered his words, and with a deep breath, you finally made that phone call.

You were going back.

While Steve watched from afar, he raged in silence for his best friend. After everything, he still couldn’t believe Bucky had touched her in a way that he always wanted to.

He was absolutely seething.

@wxntersoldxer16 @void-imaginations @heykarsyn @avashroom @sarcastic-and-cool @lunaticbarnes @benhardygalileo @wildmavs @runaway-escape @stevieboyharrington @kimvmarvel @chipilerendi

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Drabbles #Bucky Barnes Series #Marvel Fanfici #Marvel fanfiction #Marvel smut #Bucky Barnes Smut #Bucky Barnes Angst #Bucky Barnes Drama #Take It Back #Alandoflimbo #allandoflimbo

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thompsborn · 4 years

Note

“you’re the grizzled old mechanic i’m kinda scared of who’s been keeping my car running and you found out i’m living in my car and oh shit you offered me the couch at your place? and you made me breakfast? how do i even pay you back, can i work for you?” au

happy fathers day, here’s some irondad with his lil mechanic son becoming a lil family (and, because i wanted to, some parksborner, too)

—

“So, what happened this time?”

Harley puffs out a breath, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders bunching up to his ears in a half assed kind of shrug. “Honestly? Not sure. I checked under the hood last night and couldn’t see any issues, but I must have been tired or somethin’ ‘cause she barely made it here in one piece. Thank Christ you’re on call or I’d be totally fucked right now.”

Tony hums, leaning forward with slightly furrowed brows and squinted eyes, taking in the engine slowly and precisely to spot anything wrong. “Don’t need an oil change, right?”

Instinctively, Harley rolls his eyes—despite what Tony seems to think, he’s more than capable of fixing up his car and changing the oil himself. It’s more a money issue than a knowledge issue, and Tony, for whatever reason, never charges Harley when he brings his banged up Mustang to his shop after closing hours. So, it’s easier, really, on his wallet and on his physical health to just bring her in and have Tony fix her up. He doesn’t bring any of this up, though, because Tony... Tony is a quiet sort of man, doesn’t like the small talk or the chitter chatter. He’s brooding in the way only a man in his fifties can be, shoulders hunched with the weight of a long life, bags under his eyes and a healthy bit of salt and pepper to his hair. Harley tried making a sarcastic comment his second time he came in and Tony didn’t respond in the slightest, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence until Harley was good to go.

He’d rather have the stupid questions that he always responds with the same answers to than the silence from before.

“No oil change needed,” Harley replies. “Just changed it last week. That’s not the problem.”

Tony quirks a brow and looks at Harley over his shoulder, something unsure and almost condescending on his features. “Just checking,” he says. “Lots of people come here thinking their car is at ends meet, just to be in complete awe when I change their oil and it runs without a hitch.”

“I’m not gonna be one of those people,” Harley tells him. “I know enough to know that.”

“And yet you’re here, asking for my help with your shitmobile, nearly once a week.”

Harley shrugs again and looks away.

“Alright,” Tony murmurs, hands in the air in some sign of surrender. “I’ll take a look and fix her up in time for curfew, kid. No worries.”

Without thinking, Harley says, “I don’t have a curfew,” and only panics for a second before casually adding, “College,” after it in explanation. A false explanation, but—still.

Tony seems unbothered, turning back to look at the engine. “Fine. Then she’ll be ready in time for you to go home and get a full night’s rest before your classes tomorrow. Sound good?”

There are no classes, and there is no full night of rest—Harley will find a vacant lot in the shadow of a building where his car will blend in, and he will sleep in the backseat long enough to be able to function through a shift at work with only a minor crick in his back to deal with.

It’s routine, at this point—park, sleep, work. On a good day, make enough to splurge on a hot meal. Usually, just cheap, greasy fast food.

“Sure,” Harley says anyway. “Sounds good.”

Looking back on it, Harley’s not entirely sure how this happened.

Like—he knows how, he lived it, each and every agonizing moment of it, but, sometimes, when he reminisces on the timeline of events, it doesn’t really feel real. It doesn’t feel like something he really experienced.

It is, though. First, with his dad, leaving in broad daylight and never coming back. Harley, seven years old and—and so sad, wondering why daddy left, wondering if daddy ever loved him. Mama pet his hair when he cried and promised him that they didn’t need David Keener to be happy, but there was a lot less happiness in that house when he left. Darcy Keener started to look heavier and heavier with each passing day, until it seemed as though she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. As much as Harley tried to get his little sister to smile, Emilee, far too smart for someone so young, would only start to cry with anguish. She missed their father. Harley did, too.

Then, for a few years, slowly lifting themselves up, building a new foundation without David’s help, until it was stable enough for the three of them, until they weren’t really—happy, no, but—content, maybe. Something close to it.

Until Emilee got sick.

Harley got his first job to try and pay the hospital bills and buy the medicine she needed when they inevitably couldn’t afford to keep her in the hospital anymore. He got his second job while still working his first, dropped out of high school because his mother was too stressed to even notice when he stopped going, managed to start fixing up neighbor’s cars and broken lamps and mowing lawns during the little free time he had just to get that little bit of extra cash. He got the right foods that the doctors said Emilee’s body was capable of processing, he added his money to his mother’s stash set aside to buy her meds, he sat with her every night until she fell asleep before climbing out of his window to work the night shift at his second job. He did everything he possibly could.

He was seventeen when Emilee passed away in her sleep. Peaceful, the doctor’s assured them—she felt no pain, and now she’ll be able to rest. In Heaven, they assured, where she could be happy again.

Harley stopped believing in Heaven the day his dad abandoned them. He didn’t say that, though—just hugged his mother and let her sob into his shoulder.

Darcy lost herself, a little bit at first, and then entirely. She slept in and would be late for her shifts, drank more coffee than was healthy and then made it worse by adding liquor to it at seven in the morning. She looked at Harley with glazed over eyes and never seemed to hear the way he cried at night. One day, she didn’t come home from work, and Harley waited up for her all night, the panic slowly rising in his throat until it felt like he was choking on it, thinking that she might never come back. Thinking that Darcy and David might start to go hand in hand—but she did come home, dead on her feet and looking bruised. She went straight to her room and never responded when Harley asked where she went.

On his eighteenth birthday, Darcy didn’t remember. He bought himself some cupcakes and he sat on the floor of Emilee’s room and he drank the liquor he stole from his mother’s cabinet until he felt numb to it all. Slept like that, curled up atop the carpet, bottle curled up against his chest and arms hugging himself.

She drove to work one day, a little too far away from sober. They said her eyes were probably struggling to focus and her head might have been spinning and she didn’t realize the light was red until it was too late to stop.

He left the night that she died.

New York, of all places—and he still isn’t sure why he chose to run to the city, hours and hours away. The distance, maybe, to separate himself from his past and allow his chest to expand easier. Breathing, sometimes, feels like a task, or a chore. Too much work, but still he does it. Doesn’t have a choice, really.

The drive from Rose Hill to New York was made in his mother’s car, somehow not totaled despite the accident. There were stains that he didn’t want to look at, didn’t want to think about. The first thing he did was trade his piece of shit car for someone else’s piece of shit car just to get rid of the memories, just to free himself from the knowledge that he was driving the thing his mother died in.

That’s what he drives now, the crappy Oldsmobile that he traded with someone on Craigslist. It’s old, run down, in need of a lot of love, but he can’t afford a new car, so he does his best to take care of her. Names her Em, doesn’t think of why.

It’s her and him against the world, though. They have to make it out alive.

Someone slash’s his tires while he’s sleeping.

He doesn’t notice it when he first wakes up, just sits up, tries his best to stretch his limbs in the limited space, and reaches for his shitty pre-paid phone that he only bought so that his work can get in contact with him. There’s no missed calls, no unopened texts, and he’s not scheduled for today.

Climbing out of his car to properly shake out his sleep heavy limbs, he looks around the alley that he parked his car in last night—was too tired to drive to the lot he usually parks in at night. That’s his mistake, really, because the lot is vacant and hidden in the shadows and no one ever bothers him there. Alleyways, though, are often visited by other homeless people and the people who make drug deals in the dead of night and, occasionally, random, harmless kids just going on a walk, apparently used to and unafraid of the danger.

There’s no telling who slashes his tires or why the hell they did it, but it’s the first time he’s had to call Tony’s shop during working hours, in need of a tow truck, four new tires, and—well. Harley could do with a hug.

He won’t ask for that, though. It’s been a few years since he had one, anyway.

It takes five words for Harley to almost have a panic attack.

“This is pretty pricey, kid,” Tony tells him, arms crossed over his chest as he frowns at the Oldsmobile with furrowed brows. Harley thinks the air is immediately sucked out of his lungs because—well, of course it’s pricey. Of course he shouldn’t have assumed that Tony wouldn’t make him pay just because he’s let Harley get light work done for free before. Of course.

“Yeah,” Harley says, feelings a bit—breathless? He fumbles for his wallet, sinks his teeth into his lower lip so hard that he thinks he tastes copper. There’s a small stack of bills that he pulls out with unsteady fingers. “I, uh—I have—how much is it? I can—I mean, I can try to—or just, just leave, or—or—”

Tony holds out his hands, no longer looking at the car and instead trying to hold Harley’s gaze with his brows raised. “Calm down, kid. It’s fine.”

Harley shakes his head. “No, I—I can’t afford it, so I’ll just—“

“I’m not making you pay,” Tony interrupts, looking confused. “I haven’t made you pay yet, why would I start now? College discount, kid. Most college students can’t afford this shit, and you clearly need to have a working car. You’re fine.”

“But—”

Before Harley can try to argue this, the door leading from the office of the shop is pushed open and a—a teenager?—comes walking out, looking down at his phone with a frown. “Uh, Mr. Stark? I know I was supposed to be helping you out today, but Dr. Banner just texted me saying he was looking at my project and knocked something over and now the lab is—“ the guy squints at his phone, looks bewildered, “—engulfed in blue flames. His words. I think I gotta—“

Tony laughs—laughs, something that Harley hasn’t heard in the months he’s been coming to this shop—and waves his hand. “Go ahead, Pete.”

The guy—Pete—looks up with a sheepish smile, falters when he sees Harley, and only looks conflicted for a few seconds before he spins around and goes back into the office, emerging a few quick moments later with a bag slung over his shoulder and a pep in his step. “See you later, Mr. Stark!” he calls, before making his way out of the shop without looking back.

“He seems...” Harley trails off, effectively distracted from the clawing panic that had been climbing up his throat before. “Happy?”

“Yeah, usually is,” Tony says, sounding fond, lighter than Harley’s ever heard before. “He works with my husband, but he goes to ESU, which is closer to here than to the lab. Doesn’t have a car or anything, so he usually just hangs out here and gives me a hand after his classes until I can give him a ride. But, sometimes, shit happens and he has to take the subway instead.” He turns back to the car, already on the jack and raised up enough to deal with the tires, no longer seems inclined to talk about price or anything as he gets to work on the front driver’s side tire. Instead, he asks, “What school do you go to?”

Harley falters. “Uh, what?”

Tony glances over at him, quirking a brow. “School, kid. Which one?”

“Right. I, uh—“ Harley stops, tries to wrack his brain for a quick, easy answer. After a moment that’s definitely too long, he replies with, “NYU.”

Tony frowns at him. “Really?”

Harley looks away, clears his throat. “Yeah. NYU.”

“Alright,” Tony murmurs, turning back to the tire. “Let’s say I believe you. I don’t, ‘cause that was the most obvious lying I’ve ever seen, but let’s say I do. What do you study? What classes are you taking right now?”

“Why do you care?” Harley fires back, a harsh bite in his tone.

Tony huffs a laugh. “You’re a kid, that’s why. Lying can’t mean anything good.”

“I’m nineteen,” Harley tells him. “Legally, an adult.”

“Still a teenager,” Tony says. “You gonna try to answer the questions, or are you gonna tell me the truth?”

Harley clenches his jaw, grinds his teeth. “It’s not your business.”

Tony falters, hands pressed against the tire that he’s already gotten off. Eventually, he turns around. “Alright,” he says. “Not my business. That’s fine. How about we talk cost instead, hm? Tires aren’t cheap, kiddo.”

And that panic from before comes crawling back, sneaking its way up Harley’s spine as he tightens his fingers around the bills still clutched in his hand. He holds it out and pretends he isn’t visibly shaking. “This is all I have.”

“I’m not taking your money,” Tony tells him.

Harley thinks there are tears burning the backs of his eyes. “Then why the fuck did you bring up cost? Just, take it, and I’ll—I’ll head out, and—“

“I have a feeling,” Tony cuts in, “that, whatever it is you’re lying about, it’s not safe. I have a feeling that you’re not safe. Am I right to assume that?”

Harley blinks at him, wide and misty in the eyes.

Tony hums. “I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, let’s sit down and chat.”

There are walls that you build up—a foundation of bricks placed at seven years old when you’re abandoned by a father you thought loved you. Walls that become higher, more reinforced, as years upon years of shit goes by. Harley has a fortress built around him, to keep people out, to keep himself in.

It takes thirty seven minutes for Tony to carefully pick at those walls until they crumble, and it leaves Harley sobbing in a way that he hasn’t let himself do since Emilee died, heaving for breaths that ache and burn his lungs and make his head spin, tears pooling in his eyes and streaming down his face in rivers. Tony looks heartbroken as Harley chokes it all out, tells him everything, admits that he’s been sleeping in his car for over a year now and has nobody left.

Pulls him into a hug, a soft and warm kind that Harley would never assume the brooding mechanic was capable of, and tells him, “It’s gonna be fine, kid,” and brushes callused fingers through Harley’s hair like his mama used to do. When he’s done and exhausted, Tony offers him a place to stay for the night, and Harley is too emotionally drained to refuse, allows himself to be guided to Tony’s car and given a ride to a house that’s only five minutes from the shop.

Dr. Banner—Bruce, apparently—doesn’t seem all that surprised when he gets home, just smiles kindly at Harley and puts on a movie while Tony makes something to eat. When Harley, with his knees curled to his chest and a blanket draped over his shoulders, hoarsely asks why they’re being so nice to him, Bruce softly tells him, “Tony and I had pretty rough childhoods, too. When we see kids that need support, or a home, or even just a hot meal, we do what we can to help. Did it for Peter, and now he’s top of his class at ESU and on track to graduate early. Helped out Harry, too, and that kid is gonna change the world.”

Harley is still confused.

“Sometimes,” Bruce goes on, “all you need is someone to tell you that you’re gonna make it to the other side. That’s what we try to do.”

He eats—more than he’s had to eat in a long, long time. Sleeps on the couch because he refuses to take their guest room, and he has breakfast with them, too. When he goes to leave, though, Tony frowns. “Where are you gonna go?”

“Back to my car, I guess,” Harley says, shrugging.

“That isn’t safe,” Tony says.

Harley shrugs again. “I don’t really have a choice.”

Bruce looks at Tony, at Harley, and tells him, “We have the space. If you need somewhere to stay until you can get your own place, you can stay here.”

He says no. Of course he says no, but when he starts to leave again, he remembers that his car is still in the shop, remembers that his phone is dead and he was supposed to work today and his boss told him that if he was late again then he would be fired. Remembers that he got a hug for the first time in years last night and it made him feel safe in a way he can’t ever remember feeling before, and he turns on his heel with his jaw clenched and his head held high, makes his way back to the kitchen and says, “I have one condition.”

On Harley’s second day working at the shop with Tony, the door opens and two guys walks in, in the middle of a conversation that seems energetic and lively. One of them, Harley recognizes at Peter, the guy from before. The other, he doesn’t know. They both stop when they see him, exchange quick glances before making their way over. “Hi,” Peter says.

Harley has motor oil up to his elbows and smeared on his cheek and he doesn’t think he looks very presentable for meeting someone new, but he was raised to be polite. “Hi,” he replies, using a rag to try and wipe the oil from his skin.

“I’m Peter. This—” he gestures to the other guy, “—is Harry. You’re Harley, right?” At Harley’s slow blink, Peter assures, “Dr. Banner mentioned you yesterday, and I remember seeing you, last week, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Harley says. “I’m Harley. Harley Keener.”

Peter grins, and Harry shifts a bit awkwardly from foot to foot but still manages a friendly sort of smile. “Cool,” Peter says. “Do you need any help?”

Harley looks down at the engine he’s been fixing up, knows that he doesn’t need help, no, but probably wouldn’t mind the company since Tony had to take a call and ran off to run an errand right after. “Not really,” he says. “But, you can... sit down, or something, I guess? I’m almost done with this, anyway.”

Harry cocks his head slightly, looks at the engine for a moment and then at Harley again, before looking at Peter with a slightly bigger smile. “We can sit,” Harry says, taking Peter by the wrist and leading him over to the nearest bench.

Turning back to the engine, Harley tries not to notice the weird sort of silence that’s hovering over them. He’s not good at conversation starters, really, and he feels oddly nervous, like he wants to impress them. Can’t really place why.

“So,” Peter starts, breaking the little bought of nothing. “Where’re you from?”

It’s a simple question. It’s a loaded answer.

Harley stops and considers it for a moment.

“Tennessee,” he eventually responds. “But... I think I like it better here.”

When he looks, there’s somewhat knowing smiles pulling on both Peter’s and Harry’s lips, like they can see through his answer, read it for what it really is. He doesn’t mind, he realizes. His walls were already broken through, and he doesn’t want to go back to hiding himself behind the rubble that remains. Rather, he wants to use that rubble and build himself a bridge.

Maybe, that way, he can make it to the other side.

#my writing #harley keener #tony stark #irondad #bruce banner #peter parker #harry osborn #science bros #parksborner #but it's pre slash #might write a part two if i get inspiration

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justphilia · 4 years

Text

Aubade is a great fic; too bad it’s possibly dead.

Been a while since I did a long long babble on a fic I like, and lately, I’ve been rereading a few fics to fuel my entertainment. I low key notice how rare it is to find a multi-chaptered fic for Ritshou that doesn’t have Terumob as main, which is really funky honestly.

I talked about Aubade once, in my list of incomplete fanfics I missed back in like February. But it’s so good, I’m gonna make a long post about it lmao.

Even though this fic has literally taken the number one ranking in my favorites list, it only took today for me to bookmark it in my ao3 (mostly because I’ve been waiting it for it to be completed before doing so.)

And generally, anything that I bookmark on ao3 is something I’ve cried about at least once, whether it’s because of the story or because I love the story too much. So anyways,

Aubade by Ravenesta is a M rated Ritshou fic centered around Ritsu, who moves in with Shou after Shou declared he was going to stay in Japan for good.

They buy an apartment together near Ritsu’s university and go on a shopping spree in IKEA for furniture and such, which is as chaotic as it doesn’t sound. The tension between them is real and it’s there, so much so you just want them to get together already sometimes.

I’ve read this fic for a total of 4 times, and I will keep rereading it until the day I die. If you asked me what would come to mind if I thought about Ritshou, it would be the fic’s summary;

My dove, my doe, I love you so I cannot, will not, let you go

Ritsu and Shou have been orbiting around each other ever since they were thirteen years old. Really, something like this was inevitable.

It’s so simple and sweet, and somehow, without fail, every time this summary (specifically the poem) comes to mind, I would get teary eyed. Even now I’m getting :’( over the poem, just because it literally speaks Ritshou to me.

The fic starts off with Ritsu heading back home by train to Seasoning City during his summer break from college in Grain City. It’s written in a way where it’s very easy for you to visualize the scenario of Ritsu waiting for the train to come while holding a cup of cheap coffee.

It’s realistically detailed too, going as far as to include little quirks about Ritsu and the people around him (stranger or not).

Both Shou and Shigeo gets introduced during a phone texting scene, where you can easily tell their personality was conveyed right through the way they message Ritsu. Shigeo adds little face emoticons with caring and sweet messages, and Shou shortens his words to ‘u’ and ‘ur’ with chaotic spacings between words and many exclamation marks.

Even Ritsu has his own way of messaging, always adding punctuation to his sentences.

Later on, after Ritsu arrives in Seasoning City, he’s picked up by Shigeo and Teru, who are already a couple in this fic, and you can tell how much Ritsu misses his home.

Teru is such a beautiful mess in this fic, everything about him is dramatic and overtop, going from his haircut to his little diet habits, and he’s still playful with Ritsu. The ‘Little Brother’ nickname will never go away.

(Also, at some point, Ritsu makes a face immaturely after seeing Shigeo drop a kiss on Teru’s head and I think that was pretty funny)

(Also also, they all call Reigen ‘Dad’. Which is hecking adorable, but it did confuse me at some point because Ritsu named Reigen’s contact as Dad and I legitimately thought that was Ritsu’s actual dad until later.)

Fast forward after Ritsu gets a haircut from Teru in Spirits and Such. Pretty funny considering how Reigen did the same thing to Serizawa in Season 2, but I’m mildly sure Serizawa doesn’t exist in this fic so it was probably a coincidence.

So they’re going shopping and Ritsu gets another text from Shou, because Shou isn’t in town, or at least, that was what we were led to believe, until he does pop up.

And it wouldn’t be Shou if his appearance isn’t random, so of course his first line is to comment on Kiwis looking like balls.

Ritsu, being Ritsu, responds by calling Shou an asshole and proceeds to be conflicted between wanting to punch Teru, because he knew all along, or wanting to hug Shou, because Ritsu misses him so much. He goes for the latter.

Cue Shou and Ritsu hanging out because Shigeo and Teru had to go save Reigen from a spirit job, and their interaction is just so Ritshou it makes you feel fuzzy inside y’know? Because it’s just...friends being friends.

Ok so fast forward again, and they’re sitting around in Ritsu’s room and here’s where the plot begins:

Shou, sleepily, declares he wants them to live together, before suddenly falling asleep.

And Ritsu panics because he can’t tell if he’s serious or just sleep drunk. So he consults Teru to confirm this, who answers that, yes, Shou was being serious, and this just makes Ritsu panic even more because wow he did not expect that and mostly because he can’t afford an apartment.

Shou, being the rich boy he is, offers to settle the payment, because of course he would.

Ritsu weighs his options in his head and convinces himself that he’ll do it. So that’s what they do. They make a little list, which is funny and adorable, and start scouting for apartments online.

Fast forward yet again and Ritsu’s plan was to first gather his shit from his dorm room, crash there for a bit, before fully moving into the new apartment.

Reigen, Teru, and Shigeo are seeing the two off at the train station, and Reigen being Reigen, he’s all double checking that Ritsu has all his shit and it’s just such a dad moment.

Most of their luggage is Shou’s because Ritsu packs light and most of his things are at the dorm, and I brought this up because of this scene:

“It’s my oldest friend!” Shou had argued, trying to wrestle it from Ritsu’s hands. “Six years I have known you, Suzuki, and never once has there been a working bulb in this lamp.”

We get a few more cute scenes of Shou running around and being playful before being tired out and falling asleep on the train, and there’s this tender moment where Shou’s snuggling on Ritsu’s jacket, which the latter had taken off early, and he makes a comment saying how it smells like Ritsu which just baffles the only. It’s...nice, makes me fluffy.

Anyways they reach Ritsu’s dorm to crash and pack, and they have this scene where Shou gets a little emotional about how organized Ritsu is, and he genuinely couldn’t believe how Ritsu is making this work.

So! Chapter 6, alright! And it’s the apartment viewing chapter, because of course they need to view apartments before moving in (which is as fun as it sounds).

They view 3 apartments, with the third try being the charm;

Apartment 1 fucking sucks! And Ritsu only chose this because he wanted to get a feel of how apartment viewing works, and you gotta hand it to him for thinking ahead. So no matter what, he knows he won’t be buying this apartment.

Apartment 2 was actually pretty decent, the landlord, however, was not. Throughout this scene, she is constantly trying to get into Ritsu’s space, and you don’t exactly know what’s up until the very end where she gets really close. Shou saves Ritsu in the end by dragging him away and making it known that, “THIS IS MY MAN DO NOT TOUCH.” And makes an enemy out of her, so big whoops.

Apartment 3 is kinda awkward but workable, with their landlord being the sweetest man to walk this earth. His kids were born on the viewing day, which made him a little late, though Ritsu finds in understandable. After the viewing, Ritsu asks if they can crash at the apartment even though they haven’t actually gotten it yet, and the man’s like, “Don’t worry, you’re gonna live here anyways so might as well crash here now!” Protect this man.

Next scene we have Ritsu finally moving out of his dorm and into the apartment with Shou and after getting a few groceries, they finally decide they should head to IKEA for furniture. It’s a pretty funny scene because everyone knows IKEA is an equivalent to a bloody maze, so you get to watch them play around in the display rooms and climbing into beds and getting lost.

And it’s funnier because this is the Shou’s first time stepping foot into an IKEA, and Ritsu makes fun of him for it briefly. Shou gets back at him later on when they’re playing around in a bathroom display room.

he doesn’t quite notice where Shou’s wandered off to until he turns around from a bathroom sink and spots him in a shower stall, calling him over with a wave of his hand. Ritsu steps inside, ducking his head under the bar for the shower curtain

He almost startles when Shou reaches over and pulls the shower curtain closed with a flourish, leaving them enclosed in the shower stall, somehow still mysteriously lit by no lamp that Ritsu can see. He shoots Shou a questioning look, only to snort when Shou leans back against the shower wall, a hand over his heart and eyelashes fluttering.

“Why, Mister Kageyama,” he says, all false coquettishness, “Cornering a young girl like me alone in a place like this? How scandalous.”

He considers giving Shou the reaction he wants, a laugh and a shove on the shoulder and possibly a comment about exactly how classy making out in an IKEA shower stall is, but the reaction he’d gotten earlier was too good to resist playing along with the joke.

He shamelessly uses his height advantage when he steps into Shou’s space, one leg between Shou’s and a hand propped casually on the wall beside his head. He leans down so that their noses are almost touching, and says low, “Well with you standing here all gorgeous like this, how could I resist?”

It’s pathetic joke flirting, some cheesy disaster line out of every old black and white movie he’s ever watched with his mother, so he doesn’t quite expect it when Shou seems to freeze, eyes wide and locked onto Ritsu’s. It’s only for a few seconds, a barely noticeable pause before Shou’s howling with laughter as he pushes past him out of the shower, but Ritsu gets caught on it, on the hitch he thought he’d heard in Shou’s breath, on the way he feels oddly wired, like his skin is buzzing from the proximity, and what the fuck had just happened?

This scene, ladies and gentlemen, had me sold on the fic. Starting with how Shou had playfully dragged Ritsu into the display shower in an attempt to tease Ritsu, only to be surprised that Ritsu had played along because, according to Ritsu, the raven would usually just laugh and dismiss the joke as a joke.

You can literally see that’s where the subtle feelings come out, where their friendship suddenly moves a bit faster into something more. It’s a slowburn for a reason, because their relationship happens really slow, so it’s moments like these that makes you really warm inside.

We come to a near end to the fic from here, which includes a scene where Shou cooks and Ritsu has a wet dream that’s pretty brief tbh and nothing too explicit don’t worry. Then there’s some scenes where Ritsu’s doing school things and Shou’s being Shou in the kitchen and everywhere.

It slows to a stop after the iconic Shou and Ritsu flies scene, because we’re all suckers for Ritsu trusting Shou that he won’t drop him when they fly.

SO! You can pretty much get the idea of how the fic will end/go from there since the major arc scene has been settled (moving in together). And frankly, if Ravenesta was to stop the fic on chapter 9, I don’t think we’ll lose too much since the only thing we didn’t get is a conclusion to the slowburn.

If you’ve read up to here, thanks for indulging me I suppose. I mostly write little reviews for my own sake since I really talk too much and it’s very hard to collect my thoughts at times.

Is this a fic I would recommend? Most definitely yes, it’s lovely, it’s well written, it’s captivating. It is the embodiment of Ritshou’s romance, and I really wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #kageyama ritsu #suzuki shou #ritshou #shouritsu #fanfic babbles

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

Note

We're both fighting over the last packet of ramen at target because we're both broke college students + sabriel. Thank you.

Sam spotted the only remaining packet of ramen, lying forlorn, at the far behind of the shelf after he'd already given up hopes of dinner that night, and was sulking in another aisle. Once he had, though, he instantly abandoned his (ironic) half-hearted toilet-paper shopping, and rushed.

The faster he was done with this, the sooner he'd be able to return to his notes.

But while he was still a full metre away, a much smaller guy seemed to cut into the race and snatch it up. "Ah!" Said the guy, not having seen Sam at all. "I knew squatting to a cat's eye-level for a once-over, is always the key to all things good."

Sam made a small, whining noise in his throat; that he didn't exactly intend to make. That got the guy's attention, and soon he had a pair of clear brown eyes turned up at him, enquiring. Uncertain, as he held the packet in his hand. He looked weary, in spite of the humor in his words, but then in college campus during finals, everyone does.

Fuck, Sam's chest almost hurt, upon realization. He was going to have to fight this guy for that stupid packet of ramen. He needed that. But - this guy looked so small. He -

What had his life even come to, for Christ's sake?

Sam sighed, holding his hand out, hoping for the guy to not protest too much. "Excuse me, but I saw that ramen first."

The query in his eyes gave way to a defensive glare, as he clutched the packet to his chest. "Well, I ran all the way from the cashier's counter, so I don't think so!"

Sam swallowed, not taking his outstretched hand away, yet. "Dude, you don't get it. I need that."

"Well, I need it too!" He glared back. Sam blinked at him, trying to do the 'puppy-eye' stare that Dean and others at home always said worked really well. But probably, being stressed off his ass about the next day, and hungry without a single full meal since the previous day's lunch didn't help his convincing quota. Because the guy kept glaring at him. "Move! I need to get back to the dorm."

"You can go." Sam frowned, only just realizing that he accidentally had the smaller guy cornered. "Just - you're not getting it, I need that packet, okay? Give it to me. Please." Sam made a reach for it, stretching towards him. His voice was raised.

The blond shuffled backwards till he had his back against the shelve, with a sound of metal. "Hands off, man. This is mine." His voice held more courage than his eyes did. He looked sort of terrified, and Sam hated himself already, for doing what he did next.

He made another move for it, leaning till he had him pinned - but he didn't have his heart in it, so instantly, the other guy was wriggling away, and this time, with a proper frown. "What the fuck, dude?" He declared, and didn't look half as scared as Sam felt, at this point. "I told you to get away; I'll call the goddamn Target security on your ass, if you touch me again!"

Sam's voice cracked in the middle of saying, "I'm sorry, I -"

"Make yourself another fucking packet, if you 'need' one." He had his voice raised too. "Or go get something else. Or to another store. This one's mine!"

Sam knew he wouldn't possibly fight this guy for it. He knew he could, he'd probably have him in like a minute - sorry, but the guy was short and skinny - and Sam had experience. But he knew he wouldn't, because the thought made him ache, again.

(Maybe what hurt was his stomach, and not his chest, because that would make a lot more sense.)

"I can't buy something else, or go to another store." Despite how hopeless he felt, he kept his voice flat. He struggled to, but he didn't want to have a breakdown in the middle of a Target store in front of someone who he was trying to take ramen from - when he hadn't even had a conversation about this with Dean before. "Maybe you could do that." Please do that, his eyes begged.

The guy crossed his arms on his chest, against his oversized Stanford hoodie. "I can't do that." He emphasized, in a deadbeat tone. And then, on half a wry chuckle, trying to make it sound light perhaps, he added. "I'm so totally broke."

And that was that. It was the end of things. It was hearing that fucking word that made him lose it.

Of course he didn't start breaking stuff in the aisle and getting hysterical - he literally couldn't afford to, but that word seemed to shatter the last of his walls. A single tear rolled down his face, and his cheeks heated up with the realization of it. "Hell, me too." He strangled out of a choked throat, screwing his eyes shut completely, on having finally uttered those damn words.

("But hey, ask me for whatever cash you need, okay? Trust me. I'll get it." Dean had added, at the end of the announcement of his recent unemployment, following Bobby Singer's death. His older brother was only 24, but already worked so many jobs to pay for them, and since their dad's death, he had been wearing himself thin trying to support the both of them, and Sam couldn't possibly ask him for more - even though, for it to be 'more', he needed to have asked for a single thing before it. He never even had to do that, because Dean just did everything. And now, he was struggling himself and trying to keep Sam happy by offering to send him more money and Sam hadn't even spared a single second of thought to his own condition before firmly shaking his head.)

But now, the other guy moved towards him, the glare melting away, as he puts his hands on Sam's forearms. "Dude, you good?"

"No, I'm not, okay?" He let out, wondering why how he got here - crying in front of a complete stranger, in Target, over fucking ramen. But he wasn't going to get into his sob-story right now. Not to a random person, not like this. Not when he still had shit to cram when he got home, and needed to concentrate and not spend the night drowning himself in tears he'd gathered over the last many years.

"Hey, hey, hey," A voice interrupted him. "I'm worried - Sam, isn't it? I think you're in one of my classes somewhere, I'm Gabriel, hello there - and calm down, alright? Is this about the ramen, because if it means that much to you -"

Sam eyes him uncertainly, blinking away the tears that are still pricking away at his eyes. He can hardly breathe properly. "I - I am so sorry, okay? I didn't mean to -" He begins, harshly shoving the palm of his hand against his eyes, and the guy - Gabriel - shakes his head.

"You're holding it together, okay? Don't worry about it, you're good, okay?" Gabriel says, keeps saying, until he's said it so many times that Sam can say it to himself.

"Yeah. Yes. Yes, I am." He mutters, morose and still feeling crappy about this entire ordeal. "I - I just haven't eaten a single thing since about 8 am, and that was only a stupid fucking cup of coffee in the college canteen because I didn't have the one extra dollar for sandwiches. And the last meal I had was yesterday, and I don't know what to do anymore, because I have my goddamn final tomorrow, and I don't know how I'll get through those three hours without passing out at this rate, and I just -"

"What? You have a final tomorrow?" Gabriel interrupted him, looking very concerned. "You should've said that before, Sam. You know what? We're getting you back to the dorm."

"But I -"

"Oh, shuddup" Sam frowned, but he went on nonetheless. "You should've played the 'finals' card before, plus you should've told me the passing-out-part, dumbass." Sam looked ashamed of himself. "At least now I know you're a giant idiot, who doesn't even know how to use his trauma into getting a ramen from a little softie like me. Listen to me. You look like crap, and I don't know you enough and there's all of that, but I know you won't try to hijack this ramen from me anymore, so you know what? We'll just share."

Sam had a loose smile on his lips, from the 'hijack', and he wasn't completely in his head either, so he weakly nodded. "Thank you."

"And 'cause you've got to study," Gabriel shrugged. "I mean, obviously you're at least a little bit dumb because of afore mentioned cards that you didn't use, so I recommend that you go to your room and study, and I'll make the ramen. What room are you in?"

Sam almost protested - because this guy seemed really nice, and pretty cool and all of that, and come to think of it, he had heard of him before - but what if he didn't come, and what if he -

But he didn't have to say it. Gabriel seemed to understand, all by himself. It stunned Sam how someone could comprehend his complicated trust-issues so simply, but Gabriel did. "Or, you know what, you could resume revising and I'll make the ramen in your room, okay?"

"Communal kitchen," Sam swallowed.

Gabriel nodded. "Alright. Come on."

Gabriel offers to drive him back in his car, and Sam blinks at him incredulously, because he usually takes the college bus, which is never really on time, and doesn't go many places - but has to work for him. But then he doesn't say anything about it, because he knows the 'there's broke, and then there's broke with a capital B' concept too well.

While he slumps in his seat, shoulders folded in, he is hit by the realization that his wallet is no lighter than it already was, and becomes aware of the fact that Gabriel paid those thirteen cents.

And to think Sam had been trying to fight him for it, made him want to bury himself under the cheap fake-leather seatcover, to avoid having to face Gabriel's kind, concerned eyes.

It's after he's been sat at his table for almost a half hour that Gabriel comes in, with a tray, a bowl of steaming ramen and spoons. Sam is already feeling more in his element, because until he's flipped through every page of his syllabus, he never does feel prepared - and now he's way more confident than he was before, and that also may have something to do with the fact that he gets to look forward to dinner.

Gabriel hands the whole tray to him with a small smile. "There ya go, Sammich." Sam is kind of engrossed in learning a definition, so before he's free to hold it, Gabriel has already put it on his table. He stands by it, looking slightly proud of himself. Or maybe Sam. Maybe both.

"Thank you, uh," Sam mumbles under his breath, his breaths tightening again. "Thank you very much, Gabriel."

"Nevermind." He nodded.

"No, I really do need to thank you, Gabe." Sam says, and he isn't even thinking too much at this point. "You're really nice, and I, uh, hope I can repay you some way for doing this for me, soon."

"Don't think about it right now." Gabriel says, and urges Sam to have his dinner while it's still hot. "I made it for you, hon. Tell me how it is, honey," He teases, in a caricature of a suburban wife.

"It's amazing." Sam promises.

Gabriel sticks around for a while after Sam's eaten - it's not a lot to eat, even though Sam could bet he got the larger half, but he has company to talk to while he eats, so it stays for a longer time.

They talk, and then Gabriel picks up Sam's Ethical Law Handbook for kicks and Sam has an idea, which he bashfully suggests. Gabriel has absolutely nothing against quizzing him on chapter 5, to his sheer delight - he justifies it saying that he's already done with all of his finals, and would probably just go home and sleep anyways, and learning a bit of Ethics couldn't suck that much - and they do that past midnight because Gabriel is into it too, and Sam knows it helps.

Angels might not exist, but there are some people very close to being that kind of good, he decides, on a sleepy note after Gabriel has gone back to his own room. He doesn't have time to think about more cheesy things, and goes to sleep almost immediately after - dreaming of Gabriel, who's "hijacking" ramen at gunpoint, in an aeroplane, for some reason.

The next day, after a surprisingly satisfactory exam - he'll get more than most, and way more than the required grade, he's sure - he goes back to Target.

Since they haven't restocked yet, he goes to another one - taking the college bus, and has to walk all the way back (because the bus is absolutely and completely unreliable, is why) to their dorm. And this time, he's the one knocking at Gabriel's door, with a packet of uncooked ramen in his hand, nervous of what he's about to do.

Gabriel opens the door, wearing shorts under a Marvel t-shirt, but lets Sam in easily. "How hard did you rock the paper, Sammoose?"

"Sufficiently hard," Sam supplies, smiling wide.

Gabriel sees the packet in his hand, and it's his turn to smile. "Paying me back, are you?"

"Sure. But I only owe you three-fourths of it, so maybe I can stay and finish my one-fourth portion with you?" Sam says, and it's borderline hopeful, but what he doesn't expect is for Gabriel to laugh.

"I was beginning to wonder when I was going to get asked out for all of my good deeds," He winked, and takes the packet from Sam's hand and walks over to his kitchen. Sam follows him there, with a laugh himself.

"Doing it out of the goodness of your heart is more attractive, Gabe, but nevermind." He grinned, and without really thinking about it, joins Gabriel in the kitchen - well, to help with all the "cooking" that instant noodles need.

***

Aaaaand - DONE! Whoa, this was supposed to be a LOT shorter than it is now, but I dunno, I couldn't come up with a funny ending so it kept going and became sad. Will edit it later, I've gotta rush to studying myself 🍪 But here's a word out to the tribe: @ctrl-alt-destiel @emmii4 @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @adventurous-blob @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @moderatelypanickedbiromantic @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @noemithenephilim @galaxy-charm @trenchcoatsandfreckles @naitia @ladywaywarddsc @zoerayne2426 @thekidsmaybealright @hellfire37 @3dg310rdsupreme @impulsivedandelion @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect Do lemme know if you want to be added or removed from the list! Or if there's specific stuff you wanna be tagged for, and not me answering the prompts I've received (*eeeee's happily* thank you so muuuch, croutons) because I'll probably be fitting a lot of writing in, this weekend? So stay tuned, I guess. I love y'all! Have an amazing daaaay ~

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 years

Note

Do you have some short domestic fluff Steter for me with Stiles in college?

Here’s what we got. - Anastasia

Roasted by syriala

(1/1 I 778 I General)

Stiles knew that he shouldn’t be doing this again. His wallet wasn’t even crying anymore, by now it was screaming at him to just keep on walking, and not duck into the new coffee shop at the corner. But the smell of freshly roasted coffee was too alluring to be ignored so Stiles ignored the tear-inducing small number in his account and opened the door.

Fair Trade Hugs by BlanketFortAvenger

(1/1 I 1,857 I General)

Stiles starts selling his hugs to buy fair trade coffee, but 'someone' finds a way to stop him. So, Stiles hits back with some of that r/maliciouscompliance. If Peter wants to play by the rules, then he's going to have to play by Stiles' rules.

"Matchmaking" By Kittie by orphan_account

(1/1 I 2,472 I Teen)

Once he was mostly in, Stiles twisted his body and repositioned his hands to push, so that he ended up sprawled, somewhat sitting, his back to the apartment and facing the window he’d just come through.

He sat there panting from exertion for a few seconds before breathing out, “I am never doing that again.”

“I’d really like to know why you did it in the first place.”

Stiles startled violently at the unexpected voice and turned around to see Hot Neighbor Guy standing inside his front door with a single eyebrow raised, keys dangling from his hand, having obviously just gotten home and witnessed Stiles’ entire stint as a wannabe acrobat.

Safe Place to Play by TwistedAmusement13

(1/1 I 2,804 I Not Rated)

Stiles just wants to play, okay?

Rant-a-thon by Ragga

(1/1 I 2,942 I Teen)

So Stiles may be having a bad day. Or a week. Or a semester. But he knows he just needs to blow off some steam and then he will be better than ever. And accosting a random guy and blurting out his entire life story? That sounds like the perfect idea!

And as it turned out, it was.

Or, Stiles rants a lot and then Peter feeds him. And soulmates.

Uncle Peter has a boyfriend- wait, what? by Mellow (SweetCandy)

(1/1 I 4,591 I Not Rated)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16.“Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,”‘Bambi’.“Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous.Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Happiness is Everything You Can Offer Me by SquishySterek (Herm_own_ninny)

(2/2 I 5,855 I Explicit)

The moon was such a distant thought in Peter’s mind. He was holding the stars, and that was all that mattered right now.

All the World's a Stage (but the light design is subpar) by BonesOfBirdWings

(1/1 I 6,819 I Teen)

Peter Hale is a successful Off-Broadway actor, and Stiles is a stage lighter who literally falls into his life.

Peter smiled at him. "Thank you, Stiles. But should I take this to mean that you don't want a meatball sandwich from Banh Mi Saigon?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "You - I - Yes, I want! Oh my god, you do the best apologies! Can you piss me off more, please? I accept all future apologies enthusiastically!"

Peter chuckled. "I'm sure that won't be a problem, dear boy. I've been informed that I'm an asshole by a very reliable source."

Stiles beamed. "But you have good taste in food, so things balance out?" he ventured.

Peter threw back his head and laughed. Stiles' grin brightened in answer.

sideways rocking stars by nezstorm

(4/4 I 10,585 I Explicit)

“Please get your uncle out of here before I mangle the pretty face he earns his living with. And keep him away from me because next time I won’t be this generous.” The guy said, a saccharine sweet smile plastered on his face, and then he just walked away, leaving a slack-jawed Peter to be pulled and prodded out of the club and into the street.

He whirled on his nephew the moment they were safe and alone in his apartment.

“Who the hell was that?!”

Derek regarded him for a moment, eyebrow arched in disbelief. “You really don’t know?”

“I wouldn’t be fucking asking if I did.” Peter seethed.

“That,” Derek stalled collecting his keys and jacket, “was Stiles.”--Or the one with Peter as a rockstar and Stiles refuses to fall for his manipulative ways.

I'd Give It All for You by Tahlruil

(1/1 I 12,356 I Teen)

Peter was damn near ready to pull his hair out.

That scent, that fucking scent, was still haunting him. It was all over the campus and it should have been child's play to find the source. Instead he was chasing his own tail more than anything, going 'round in circles and never finding what should have been a goddamn two-by-four in a pile of sand. It left him frustrated and half-feral, always a hairs-breadth from losing what had once been impeccable control. He hid that as best he could - a werewolf without a pack couldn't afford any real slip-ups - but he'd sent more than one co-ed fleeing from smiles that were more snarl than anything else.

Moonshine Pie by UnstableIntention (BeneficialAddiction)

(5//? I 14,821 I Teen)

Baker Peter who can only express how he feels with the pies he turns out day after day in his little shop down on Main Street. PTSD and insomnia keeps him up all night so he bakes and he experiments and he feeds the people he cares about. He’s a little awkward, a little quiet, a little shy… broken maybe. He doesn’t like the loudmouthed kid who starts coming in every week and stuffs his face while moaning like a porn star.

At least at first.

Trophy by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

(1/1 I 14,904 I Mature)

Stiles is a model and best man to Scott. Peter is a hot-shot attorney and best man to Chris. Both thought it was one hell of a one-night stand. An unexpected run-in five weeks later begins the start of a relationship that suggests there could be something more between them.

I'll Find a Home in Your Heart (Whether You Want Me There or Not) by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

(4/4 I 32,247 I Mature)

Stiles Stilinski just wants to go to college, meet a nice guy and maybe get his happily ever after along with his degree. What he doesn’t plan on is the introduction of a persistent new housemate that shows him that what he wants in life, might not be what he really needs and that a happily ever after can be found in an unexpected place in the form of a very unexpected person.

#teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #fluff #college au #Anonymous

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

Inside Out

Summary: After one too many instances of Duncan being the token stuck-up rich guy, you’re ready to show him how the rest of America lives by taking him through a day in your life.

Word Count: 6746

A/N: Oofta, this is long. Sorry about that. Hope you guys enjoy; feedback is always appreciated, my inbox is always open, and I’d love it if you would reblog this. Thanks!

The first time that it happened while you were out with Duncan, you were willing to excuse it. He had been grappling with a stock market dip that threatened to send the Shepherd Foundation into a financial crisis, so him not bothering to look up from his phone to place an order, as well as not tipping the barista, was something that you had quickly forgiven. A smile towards the overworked employee and a folded ten dropped into the tip jar is sure to make their day better, something that you know from experience. Besides, there’s no way that Duncan would be the type of person to not tip; the man has more money than he knows what to do with. Even with that reassurement in your mind, your smile still falters when he takes the coffee from the barista without even bothering to thank him.

The second time that it happened, you were talking yourself through a list of errands that needed to be ran on your day off, trying to figure out the most logical plan of action for what you needed to accomplish. When you had shook your head before angrily muttering that you “can’t fucking afford taking the car to get the oil changed” and deciding to change your own oil, Duncan had scoffed.

“That’s a joke, right?” He had laughed, looking up at you over the thin frame of the glasses he wore for working at his computer.

“Uh, no? I’ve been putting off getting my oil changed for months now, and since I still don’t have the extra money to go and get it changed I just need to change it myself before my engine stops working.” You were sure that the look of confusion on your face was almost comical, but you had never met anyone who was baffled at the idea of a car’s oil being changed.

“Don’t people do that for you?”

“Yeah, but that costs a lot more money than just going to the auto store and buying the oil so I can change it myself. I’ve done it before; it’s not difficult, just tedious.”

Duncan mulled the words you spoke, the idea of goods being exchanged for services such as auto mechanics obviously not having crossed his mind before. He didn’t bring it up again, but you could see the disdain in his expression at the thought of you having to do something as low-brow as changing your own oil. The next day, you “found” a hundred dollar bill tucked in the pocket of your jacket, as if Duncan thought you were stupid enough to believe that you had just missed the money in your pocket before (you didn’t give it back though; although you had already changed the oil yourself the night before, the money was still more than enough to buy you groceries for two weeks and still have some left over).

The more time that you spent with Duncan, the more that you saw the less undesirable aspects of his personality that you had purposely turned a blind eye too when you first got into a relationship with the man. That’s not to say that you’re this perfect human who never makes a mistake; quite the opposite, in fact. You’re clumsy, opinionated, and prone to engaging in heated debates about topics that you’re passionate about with random strangers.

The one thing that you’re not? Entitled.

Duncan Shepherd, you’ve realized after three months of dating, is one of the most entitled people that you’ve ever met. It shouldn’t be too shocking that the heir of a multi-million dollar political foundation and one of the most influential lobbyists in Washington expects everything to be handed to him on a silver platter, but you had been wooed by his intelligence and wit far quicker than you could see how he treated those who he thought to be “beneath” him. The little one-off insults, which he probably thought nothing more of once the words left his mouth, were a daily occurence now, although you’re sure that’s because you’re looking for them now.

After a bicyclist blocked the lane because a police car was in the bike lane: “Maybe if they could afford to get a ride somewhere, they wouldn’t have to worry about getting killed on their commute.”

When the waiter at a fancy restaurant apologized for the delay in seating: “Do you people even know who I am? Who my family is?”

Upon seeing a food drive donation center in the lobby of his building: “Again? Didn’t they just do one a month ago?”

After you gave money and food to the nice homeless lady who sits outside of your building: “You know that she’s probably conning you? That’s their game, most of them go to their house after this and laugh at people like you, with your heart on your sleeve and always willing to blindly give.”

The negativity got tiring, if you were being honest. It’s entirely possible that he is right when he tells you that you see the world through rose-tinted glasses, but is it such a bad thing to see the positives in people? To understand their struggles and want to brighten up their day or help them in any way that you can? You really don’t think that it is.

The breaking point comes when Duncan comes over to your apartment after work. You’ve just barely finished putting the perishable foods that you bought at the grocery store away, yelling for Duncan to let himself in so you don’t have to set everything down. You don’t even have to look at him to know that his nose is crinkling as he takes in your small apartment. Small in Duncan’s world, at least. For you, it’s the perfect size and you love how cozy it is. Stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, you turn and kiss him on the cheek when he wraps his arms around you.

“How was your day off?” He mutters into your ear. Finals are finally over, which means that you’ve been able to enjoy a rare day off before your work schedule kicks in.

“Busy. I still have to fold the laundry that I finished this morning, I cleaned the place for almost an hour, and I just got back from grocery shopping.”

“Do you need help putting the rest of your groceries away?” You’re mildly shocked that he’s willing to do any sort of chore, but nod nonetheless.

It’s silent for a minute while you both go to work at removing items from the bags and placing them on the counter. When you finish with your bags, you turn to see Duncan holding a package in his hand.

“What’s this?”

“Uh, coffee?”

“No, it’s not.” You furrow your brows, snatching the bag from him and turning it to make sure that you did, in fact, buy your favorite brand of coffee.

“Yes it is. Same brand I’ve been buying for a year now.”

“But...it’s already ground?” He looks just as confused as you feel right now.

“What other form would it come in?”

“Everybody I know grinds their coffee beans at home.”

“I don’t really have time for that, and plus this is way cheaper than buying actual coffee beans.”

“I’ll have to buy you a coffee grinder.” Duncan muses, pivoting towards the corner where your coffee maker sits. “And maybe a new coffee machine, too? Seriously, (Y/N), did you get this at the Salvation Army? What if--”

Your vision goes red as he starts to nitpick at your personal assets, rage blocking your ears from hearing what else he’s saying. It’s infuriating, to have this man that you deeply care for, and who knows that you’re from two very different upbringings, go through your items and decide what is up to his standard.

“--are you even listening?” Duncan asks, suddenly looking at you now. Breathing deeply, you place a hand on the counter before looking up at him.

“You know, you’re extremely entitled.” His eyes widen, and he looks almost offended by your statement. Good, you think bitterly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not entitled, (Y/N).”

“You, Duncan Shepherd, are arguably the most entitled motherfucker I’ve ever met.” You raise a hand in warning when he starts to open his mouth, letting him know that you’re not finished. “You think you can come in here, look through all of my things, and tell me what I should do better? I’m so sorry that not all of us have the money or means to buy a fucking state-of-the-art coffee grinder.”

“Is this about money?” Duncan says after a long moment. “Because I’ve told you before, I will gladly pay for anything you desire.”

“No, it’s not about the money! Jesus, Duncan, I’m not a charity case.” You throw your hands up. “You think that everyone who isn’t in your tax bracket is below you, and it’s disgusting to watch.”

“Name one example.” He scoffs, leaning against the fridge and glancing at his watch like this is a waste of his time.

“Literally whenever we go out. When have you ever tipped someone?”

“I expect a high degree of service. They shouldn’t automatically expect a tip, they should have to work for it--”

“And when have you ever done a fucking honest day’s work in your life?” You cut him off.

“What are you even talking about?” Duncan asks in disbelief. “I work every single day for countless hours.”

“Yeah, at your family’s foundation.” You bite back, pushing yourself off of the counter and facing mere inches away from him. “The only job you’ve ever had is one in a comfy office that’s had your name inscribed on the door since the day you were born.”

“That’s not the only--”

“Oh, right, I’m forgetting your illustrious college internship with the Senate Majority Leader. Silly me! I forget, Dunc, did your mom stop seeing him four or five years ago?” Duncan grips your wrist in his large hand, yanking you against his chest.

“I suggest you take a few deep breaths before you say something that you’ll really regret.” He warns lowly, visibly seething when you laugh.

“‘Regret?’ I don’t regret anything about this! Do you know when I first got a job? It was right after I turned sixteen. My parents made it clear to me that I needed to work for what I wanted in life, and that it was time for me to start making my own money. I worked two jobs until I was nineteen, and the only reason I cut back to one is so that I could do a work-study and take some of the money off of my student loans.

“And please don’t mistake this as bitterness, because it’s not. I fully believe that money, if taken for granted, poisons people from the inside out. Rich people like you don’t understand anything about living a normal life. I can’t just hire somebody to go get groceries for me, or do my laundry, or drive me around, or buy my fucking stupid-ass goat shoes when there’s a limited-edition release and I can’t be bothered to stand among everyone else.” You shake your head in disdain, tears pricking at your eyes. “Your wealth has poisoned you, Duncan. You can complain about struggling all you want, but your only struggle is that you would be absolutely lost if you weren’t able to throw your money at all of your problems to make them go away.”

The air in the apartment is heavy, feeling much the same way as it does after a summer storm has swept through the area and washed away the heat of a Washington July day, only leaving behind the humidity and steam from the evaporating rain. Your chest heaves, a weight off of your shoulders now that the words that have been building up inside you are finally out in the open. Duncan stares at you, lips parted as he tries to form some sort of comeback to what you just said. You laugh lowly, wiping your eyes on your sleeve and gazing out the window to avoid looking at him.

“You should go,” you say quietly, “it’s almost time for dinner, and I wouldn’t want to soil your refined palate with the three-day old spaghetti I’ll be eating.”

You’re expecting him to leave, to storm out the door and not speak to you until you physically can’t handle the silent treatment any longer. That’s why, the more time that passes without any sign of movement, the more rage that starts to course through your body.

“Why are you still here?” You finally confront, spinning around to face Duncan. His eyes meet yours, the blue shade darkened by the tears he’s been holding back.

“I don’t care how mad you are, (Y/N), but I’m not just leaving after an unresolved fight.” Duncan’s calm demeanor only infuriates you more, and you huff loudly as you roll your eyes.

“Fine, whatever, go ahead and stay! But don’t expect me to say anything to you.” He wants to say something else, but instead he sighs and nods.

“Duly noted.”

It’s easy to ignore Duncan at first. He sits patiently at your counter, almost as if he expects you to apologize to him (for what, you’re not sure). If he’s going to annoy you with his presence, you decide, you’re going to annoy him as much as possible. The music on your bluetooth speaker is turned up as far as it can possibly go without you getting noise complaints from your neighbors, and you’re sure to play the rock music that Duncan absolutely hates. It’s kind of fun to purposefully ignore him, and the giant glass of wine you have with your leftover spaghetti makes you snicker everytime you furiously avoid eye contact with him. The only time you do make eye contact with him is when you go to bed, staring at the man sitting on your couch while you shut the door to your bedroom.

Unfortunately, Duncan’s a master of deciphering when, where, and how to pick his battles. An hour into tossing and turning in your bed, right when you’re starting to get lonely enough to consider opening up the door and begrudgingly asking him to move off of the couch, Duncan sneaks into your room and slides into bed next to you. You sigh when his arms wrap around you, but your body relaxes against his anyways.

“You were right.” Duncan breaks the silence with a sentence that you’ve never heard come out of his mouth.

“Seriously?” You’re shocked and tired, which doesn’t make your sentences the most coherent.

“I don’t understand what it’s like, and I do tend to use my wealth to my advantage and to belittle others. I just didn’t realize I was doing it to you, too.”

“Why is it any different when you do that stuff to me?”

“Because I care about you.”

“See, that’s another thing you don’t get, Dunc. Basic human decency towards everyone, even strangers, goes a long way. You should strive to treat everybody nicely, as opposed to just those you care about. Money can only get you so much, in terms of connections and friendships.” You mutter, breathing steadily so that you don’t launch into another tirade against him.

Duncan stays quiet, mulling over his next words carefully. He’s thinking for so long, in fact, that the steady feeling of his chest rising and falling almost lulls you to sleep. When he speaks, you don’t fully comprehend what he’s saying. Duncan has to shake you slightly to get your attention, making you whine before you turn over to pitifully glare at him.

“I was almost asleep.” You grumble, a yawn slipping out of your mouth.

“You can sleep after this,” he promises quickly. “(Y/N), I want to understand what you go through. Your life is incredibly different from mine, and at the risk of sounding conceited, I want to experience what it’s like to live ‘normally’ for a day.”

“You know that means you can’t use your black card? Or call your driver, or utilize any of your assistants, or--”

“Yes, I understand. I’m completely ready to do things for myself.” You cock an eyebrow at him, but nod nonetheless.

“Okay then.” Wanting to tease him more is quickly nullified by the fluttering of your eyelids as they forcefully drag shut, desperate for you to sleep.

Something’s off when you wake up, but you’re not sure what it is at first. Rolling your head to the side, the first thing that you notice is that your bed is empty of the man who laid there mere hours ago. The second thing you notice, and the thing that has you immediately awake and jumping out of bed, is loud cursing and the smell of something burning. Your mind is racing with all of the possible worst-case scenarios that could have led to the current predicament--faulty wiring, a charger exploding, somebody breaking into your apartment and lighting the curtains on fire (that last one is definitely a little far-fetched, but your anxiety doesn’t really care)--while you round the corner and slide into the living room.

Your fears are extinguished, but your confusion is only increased. Duncan curses between his teeth while he throws a smoking pan into your sink, flipping the water on to help quell the burning. Your nose crinkles at the scent of charred food, and you open the windows to help clear out the smell.

“What the hell did you do?” Duncan’s eyes are wide when he turns to face you, expression mirroring that of a child who just got caught with his hands full of forbidden treats.

“I thought I would try to cook breakfast, but that didn’t really go to plan.”

“Ya think?” You tease, examining the stove to see where he went wrong. “For starters, the burner’s up way too high; that barely gives you enough time to cook your food before it’s starting to char. What were you trying to make?”

“Bacon?” Duncan says sheepishly, cheeks a bright pink as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “And then it started popping and sizzling, and the grease--”

You can’t help the sympathetic smile that pops onto your face as he holds a hand in your eyesight. Sure enough, he’s got his own battle wounds from the hot grease landing on his skin. It’s minor, but grease blisters are still a pain in the ass to deal with.

“Aw, Dunc.” You coo, kissing his hand where the blister sits. Duncan hisses slightly through his teeth at the sudden coolness of your lips against his irritated skin, but he doesn’t move his hand until after you pull away with a wink. “Have you never made breakfast before?”

“No. We always had kitchen staff when I was growing up, and I don’t even eat breakfast until I get to the office now and I can make one of the interns grab me something.” He admits, averting his gaze when he mentions growing up with a kitchen staff.

“At least you wooed me with your pasta-making abilities before you attempted to make breakfast.” You reassure him, kissing him quickly. It’s easy to see that he’s genuinely trying to stick to the challenge that he imposed upon himself last night, and you don’t want to dampen his spirits before the day’s even begun. “I think I have some cereal in the cabinet, if you’re hungry? That’s one food that you can’t burn.”

You notice with delight that Duncan already started the coffee, and you eagerly fill your favorite mug up with some. Stirring some creamer in, you readily take a sip in the hopes that it will wake you up. Although it does wake you up, it’s not from the caffeine being consumed. Instead, the bitter, burnt taste has you coughing in disgust, dumping the coffee out and filling your mug up with water to wash the taste out of your mouth. Glancing over at the table, Duncan smiles awkwardly at you, a mouth full of cereal.

“Sorry.”

Breakfast was rougher than you had thought it would be, so you decide the next ‘task’ for Duncan will be something much easier: laundry. Duncan had blanched when you told him to cancel his laundry service for this week, but he wasn’t going to back down when it came to showing you that he was more than capable of doing things for himself.

“You have this nice laundry room that you don’t even use?” Glancing around the spacious laundry room, that’s arguably the size of your bedroom, you’re shocked.

“No, it’s just easier to get it sent out.”

“It may be more convenient, but it’s also a lot more expensive than doing your own laundry.”

You sit on top of the dryer, waiting for Duncan to return with his laundry basket. You’re still mildly befuddled that you didn’t know this laundry room was a part of Duncan’s penthouse apartment, but it’s a very large place, and it’s very easy to get distracted when your sexy boyfriend makes it his mission to fuck you on every available surface of the capacious apartment. You were even nice enough to bring your own laundry detergent and dryer sheets; it wasn’t necessary to ask if he had the supplies to do his own laundry when you already knew the answer.

Finally he returns, pushing the sleeves of his black cashmere sweater up to his elbows after he sets the basket down. You’re momentarily distracted at the ripple of his muscles before looking away in the hopes that he didn’t notice, but the smirk that paints his face makes it obvious that he’s noticed. He always does. Holding out a large hand towards you, he effortlessly helps you off of the dryer.

“So where do we start?”

“Where do you start?” You correct, snickering at the panicked expression on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“Laundry really isn’t that difficult, Duncan. Surely you did your laundry in college?” The guilty look on his face makes you groan loudly. “Really, Dunc?”

“Look, everybody I knew in college had their laundry sent out--”

“All senators’ sons and the heirs of influential families?” You barely pause, knowing what he’s going to say. “Look, I’ll help you with the first load, but after that you’re on your own.”

“Thank you.” He says brightly, kissing your forehead before dumping all of his clothes into the washer.

“Uh, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you gonna separate those?” He turns around, face a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

“Like, one load for shirts and one load for pants?” You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, shaking your head slightly.

“Not...exactly. More like one load for all your lights and one load for all your darks.”

“Why?”

“So that way, the colors don’t bleed and turn your clothes different colors. Here,” grabbing the first item you see that isn’t black, you turn and hold up his light blue dress sock, “what pile would this go in?”

“The...da--lights?” He guesses, grinning when you nod.

“Yeah, exactly! It’s not as difficult as you think it will be; the lighter colors and whites go in one load, and then your darks go in another. Considering the majority of your wardrobe is black, I wouldn’t be too worried.”

“I think I’ve got it?” Duncan says hesitantly.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. I want to do this myself, I want to prove to you than I can do this.” He’s so eager that it makes your heart twist painfully, but you nod and caress his cheek.

“Alright. Just yell for me if you need me, okay?” He nods, playfully slapping your ass as you turn to leave.

The experience of Duncan doing his laundry seems to go much easier than making breakfast, and eventually the sound of the machines doing their job and Duncan humming has you dozing on his couch. You’re barely propped up on your hand, only keeping yourself awake by your head dropping and startling you back awake momentarily. You’re half-tempted to just say ‘fuck it’ and take a nap, since it really does seem like Duncan’s got the hang of this laundry thing. Of course, the second you actually do let your head drop back against the cushions, Duncan’s loud “shit!” has you jolting up off of the couch.

“What happened, did you set the laundry room on fire?” You’re having visions of Duncan managing to set anything and everything on fire; maybe his family had an actual reason for never teaching him how to do things for himself, maybe it’s because he’s a walking matchstick.

“No, worse.” He says sadly. You hustle into the laundry room, stopping in the doorway when you see the dejected look on his face.

“Oh no.” You try to look as sympathetic as possible, but it’s hard when Duncan’s sadly holding up a baby pink button down shirt.

“I could have sworn I separated all of the whites, but I guess this was stuck to something?”

“Dunc, what do you even own that’s red?”

“My red Gucci blazer that I got a month ago.” He groans.

“Baby, it’s okay.” You soothe, taking the shirt from him and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“This has happened to you before?” He asks brightly, pleased that you’ve also experienced the same thing.

“Well, no…but I have friends who have had this happen to them!” Duncan sighs, clenching his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “Hey, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I can’t even manage to do the laundry right.” Slipping past him, you glance inside the washer to look at the other clothes.

“Look, that shirt’s the only casualty! I’d say that you did pretty good.”

“Really?” He doesn’t believe you, but you’re determined to get rid of that heartbroken look on his face.

“Yes. Drying’s the easy part, we just hang up all your shirts and dress slacks to dry, and then we can use the dryer for everything else.”

You start sorting through the washed clothes, throwing the ones that need to be hung up on top of the dryer. Duncan goes to work at hanging those up on hangers, while you set the dryer to the needed settings. Looking at the man in front of you after you’ve finished, you’re struck by this moment of sudden domesticity. You’ve never really seen Duncan do chores before, and the quiet, comforting silence of working together to finish laundry is odd. Nice, but definitely odd.

“So? Ready to call it a day?” You ask once Duncan’s finished.

“No. I told you I was going to make it through a whole day, and I’m not backing out now.” It’s only noon, and at the rate things are going you’re a little worried that living life in the ‘middle class’ is going to absolutely wreck him by the end of the day.

“You sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. What’s next in a normal day for you?”

“Hmm, what sounds scarier to you: going to the grocery store or washing a car?”

“Neither of those are scary, (Y/N).” You roll your eyes.

“Yes, I know that, but which one strikes the fear of God into your soul at the mere thought?” Duncan’s entirely unamused, but plays along anyways.

“I guess washing a car?”

“Alright then, we’ll wash the car before we go to get groceries.” Duncan just barely bites back a whine, resolving to stay strong like he’s intended.

“Why is washing the car a big deal? We’re just going through the automatic one, right?” Duncan asks once you’re both safely in your beloved car and driving towards your destination.

“We could go through the automatic one,” you chuckle, “but considering I don’t get paid until next week and we’re making this as realistic as possible, I’m going to pay the four dollars for the manual wash and we can wash it ourselves.”

“You’ve washed your own car before?” Duncan’s legitimately aghast at this admission, the mere idea of such an act of labor incomprehensible.

“Why is this more surprising to you than when you learned I could change my own oil?”

“Huh...I don’t know, actually. Maybe the knowledge that I have to help out with this particular task?”

You pull into the empty car wash stall, pulling four dollars from your center console and handing it to Duncan.

“Here, go put that in the machine for me, please?” You smile widely, pecking his lips when he takes the money from you and opens the door.

Hopping out of the car, you grab the rubber floor mats and prop them up against the wall before meandering over to Duncan, who’s carefully reading the instructions on the machine.

“Ready? Once you put the cash in, the timer starts.” You grab the spray wand from its docking station.

Duncan feeds the bills into the machine, which beeps at him to let him know that the time has started. He tentatively takes the spray wand from you, and you press the ‘wash’ button on the machine.

“Just make sure to not stand too close to the car, or else the water pressure could damage the paint.” You remind him. Experimentally pressing the trigger, Duncan jumps at the sudden spray of water that douses your car.

“Am I doing it wrong?” He looks to you to make sure he hasn’t screwed this up.

“No, you’re fine! Keep going.” You encourage him.

It takes him a little bit to get the hang of it, but soon he’s spraying the car like he’s done this a million times before.

“What next?” He asks, watching while you press the ‘soap’ button.

“Now it’s the soap. Just do the same thing that you just did.” Duncan’s face lights up at the stream of bubbles appearing on the end of the wand, quickly maneuvering it so that it gets on the car. “That’s good,” you call once the timer beeps for the final two minutes, “now grab the brush.”

“And scrub the car?”

“Exactly!” Duncan’s hesitant at first, and you can tell that he’s worried about scraping your car.

While Duncan works on scrubbing your car, you turn the wand back to the rinse setting and clean off your floor mats. Your quiet hums abruptly turn to a loud squeal when something cold and wet touches your hair, jumping as it drips down your back. Whipping around, you playfully gasp at the sight of Duncan with soapy hands.

“That wasn’t in your job description.”

“Neither is this.” Your grin morphs to a look of shock when Duncan swipes his hand across your nose, leaving a trail of bubbles on your face. Duncan laughs loudly when the foreign object makes you sneeze, wiping his hands on the rag he grabbed.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” You ask, lunging over to grab a handful of the bubbles.

Duncan grabs at your hand in an attempt to stop you, but you’re just quick enough to lightly slap his face and paint his cheek with the suds. He growls playfully, and you laugh while you try to pull away from his grip. He wraps his strong arms around your torso, easily lifting you up in the air while you shriek. The furious kicking of your legs does nothing to stop him, and he blows one last scoop of bubbles in your face.

The battle comes to an end when Duncan lowers you back to your feet, hands still resting on your ass. He smiles down at you, wiping the remaining bubbles off of your face with a gentle touch. Once he’s certain that your face is clean, he kisses you deeply. You have to stand on your tiptoes to even comfortably reach him, his firm grip on your ass helping slightly to keep you level with him. The shrill beeping of the timer sends you both jumping apart, glancing at the angry red LED screen as it reads 00:00.

“I think I have another dollar in my car.” You mumble, fingers intertwining with his.

“No need, I have one.” Sure enough, Duncan produces a dollar from his back pocket, feeding it to the machine without taking his eyes off of you.

The car is washed without any more incidents, and you and Duncan are on your way to the grocery store.

“Wait, why aren’t we stopping at Whole Foods?” Duncan’s euphoria at finally accomplishing a task today is quickly replaced with confusion as you pass by the chic building with its iconic green lettering.

“I already told you that I don’t get paid until next week, and even if I did get paid today, Whole Foods is the sort of place I only shop at when I get my tax refund.”

“So, where are we going?” You wish you had your phone camera out so that you could capture the look of absolute horror on Duncan’s face when you tell him.

“Walmart.”

There’s a reason you’ve been saving grocery shopping for the final activity of the day. Although these other tasks have been challenging for Duncan, you feel like this one will be the most eye opening. He’s never had to budget for food like you have to every week, deciding which staples are more important depending on what’s the lowest price. He doesn’t get the struggle of only having thirty bucks to buy enough groceries to last you two weeks, and he’s certainly never had to buy the generic brand of anything. This isn’t so that he can pity you; instead, it’s so that he can truly see what the people he treats like garbage have to go through. The baristas who depend on tips to buy their food, the homeless woman who can get fresh fruits for her kids with the money that you give her, even the canned goods that you buy from here so that you can donate to the food drive in his building.

Duncan holds onto you tightly as you enter the supermarket, eyes darting around as he takes in this uncharted territory. For you, this place is all-too-familiar, but Duncan’s experiencing a Walmart for the first time.

“Why are there so many screaming kids here?” He whispers in your ear.

“Just a hallmark of any Walmart, I guess.” You pull your grocery list up on your phone, mentally plotting out what aisles you’ll hit first. “Okay, I need eggs, juice, rice, pasta, breakfast foods, almond milk, bread, and peanut butter. Maybe some fruit and vegetables, too?”

“‘Maybe?’ Are the ones you like not in season?” You turn red, picking at your fingernail to avoid looking at him.

“No, sometimes they’re too expensive and I can’t afford to buy them.” You mutter quickly. For some reason, you didn’t think that the issue of money would be brought up while you were buying groceries; willful ignorance, on your part.

“Oh.” Duncan says, as though he hadn’t quite realized that sometimes people have to forego certain things in order to make ends meet. Maybe he didn’t realize that until now, you muse; it’s not as if his childhood nannies did the Shepherd family grocery shopping here.

“Let’s just go.” You try to change the subject, swinging the cart around to go down the aisles.

“Does that happen a lot?” Duncan asks as you begin to walk down the first aisle.

“Does what happen a lot?”

“You not being able to buy groceries?”

“Oh, it’s not that I can’t buy any groceries, but I like to have some leftover money in case of emergencies and so that I have some to give to Marta.”

“Marta?” Duncan asks.

“The ‘homeless’ woman that sits outside my building, the one you’re convinced is conning me? She sits there on Tuesdays and Thursdays, while she works odd jobs the other days of the week until she gets a call back for a job interview. Her kids are in school during the day, and they don’t know that they’re on the verge of homelessness. I try to give Marta at least ten bucks a week, that way she can make it to the Dollar Store and get some food for her and the kids.”

“Really?” His voice comes out quietly, and you have to lean closer to hear.

“Of course. There’s good, honest people like Marta who have just fallen on some hard times, and I want to be able to help those people in any way I can. Being charitable isn’t a negative trait.” Duncan’s silent, mulling over what you’ve just told him.

“But you still have to limit yourself to do that?” He finally questions.

“No, it’s just that I have to sometimes skip a couple of items so that I can buy the essentials.”

“What are the essentials?”

“Stuff that I can make multiple meals out of. Bread is a big one,” you grab a loaf of bread from the shelf and toss it into the cart, “I can make sandwiches, french toast, garlic bread, and I can make breadcrumbs to top almost anything.”

“And rice and pasta?”

“Again, I can make almost anything using that as a staple. Chicken fried rice, casseroles, any type of crockpot meal. With the variety of noodles that there are, I could make a different meal every day of the week using just one box. You start with your staple foods, the foods that you know are the most important, and then you go from there.”

Duncan listens intently as you explain the intricacies of grocery shopping on a budget, hand resting on top of yours as he pushes the cart along with you. He watches while you look at the shelves, barely checking to look at the prices before throwing the generic brand of pasta into your cart.

“Why’d you pick that one?”

“Because it’s cheaper.” You explain simply, as if this is the easiest thing in the world to understand.

“But why is it cheaper compared to the other ones?”

“The other ones have name brands on them. Stores will often increase their profits by producing their own generic lines of products that they sell cheaper than everything else.”

“Hey, I’ll be right back.” He says suddenly, turning on his heel and walking out of the aisle. You’re a little confused, but brush it off as a phone call from one of his employees that he has to take before continuing on your way.

Duncan doesn’t come back for another ten minutes, and by then you’re nearly done with your shopping. You shouldn’t be getting worried over him, considering he’s a grown man, but the sheer size and dizzying labyrinth of shelves that make up a Walmart would disorient even the most skilled store-prowler. Right when you’re starting to mentally debate about whether or not you need to call him, his deep voice gets your attention. You snap your eyes up to see him carrying a blue shopping basket, loaded to the brim with food items.

“Think this will be enough for Marta and her kids?” You stare at him, lips parted as you try to think of something, anything, to say.

“You--you got all this for them?” Duncan nods, his full bottom lip pulled between his teeth as his eyes seek yours.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be a nice thing to do.” You laugh in disbelief, nodding slightly.

“It’s definitely a nice thing to do. But...why?”

“If there’s one thing that today’s taught me, it’s that I really am an ‘entitled motherfucker.’” He references the words that you had thrown at him in anger yesterday. “I don’t want to be like that anymore, not when there’s people like you going without certain things just so that they can make someone else’s day a little better.”

You can’t think of any proper response to that, so you just lean up and kiss him.

“You, Duncan Shepherd, can be extremely sweet when you want to be.”

“You make me want to be ‘sweet.’” He mutters against your lips. “Oh! Look what I got for you!”

“Duncan!” Your face lights up when he pulls out a couple of cartons of fruit, making him grin widely. “You have most certainly redeemed yourself.”

“Enough for you to make some of that chicken fried rice you were talking about earlier?” He asks hopefully.

“I think that’s a fair trade.”

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#Duncan Shepherd #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagines #house of cards #house of cards imagine #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine

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neo-culture-mafia · 5 years

Text

NCT 2018 as Mafia Positions

LEE TAEYONG ~ Leader (GOD FATHER)

He was brought up in a Mafia family himself so once he came of age, he branched his own syndicate. His father was furious...using the word ‘furious’ was an understatement though. He broke the family branch and created his own: Neo Culture

Leads the work day with an iron fist, yet doesn’t hesitate to unwind with his members during the night time. Always looks out for his members when they show weakness and fatigue with their day to day life.

“Oh no honey, I’m an angel...I swear! The horns are just there to hold up the halo.”

______________

MOON TAEIL ~ UNDER BOSS 1

He was there to step in for Taeyong whenever he was needed outside of the country for business. He held a lot of power within himself and the younger and inexperienced members. He kept quiet until needed, yet he was always lurking in the shadows taking note of everything and everyone.

Once he was needed though, you sure as hell need to know that he will make his presence known and he will instruct fear into his victims when needed.

“At times I feel like giving up, but then I bite my tongue and realize I have a lot of mother fuckers to prove wrong.”

______________

SEO JOHNNY ~ UNDER BOSS 2

The under boss who made his presence known from the beginning. He would always remind the others when Taeyong was out who they needed to be listening to. He would be by Taeyong 24/7 - ready. Ready to make the calls to blow something up or simply to call everyone to dinner.

He holds the older members together and makes sure everyone has someone to go to if they needed it. Wouldn’t be afraid to get his hands dirty for the ones he loved and held close to him.

“Keep your head high...but your middle finger higher.”

_____________

NAKAMOTO YUTA ~ FOREIGN BOSS OF AFFAIRS (JAPAN)

Lives up the Neo Culture branch located in Japan. Rules his own soldiers with an iron fist that has all of them shaking on the daily. Spends most of his time reporting tensions of the Yakuza and Neo Culture to Taeyong. He knows when to pick his men up and transfer them back to Seoul for safety. Makes his own plans for his branch yet will always have clear communication with his hierarchy.

Isn’t afraid to ask for help from his higher-ups. Has his life on the line every day with being so far away from Headquarters...but you wouldn’t catch him talking about his problems to his men because he has an image to maintain.

“The hottest lives have the coldest ends.”

______________

QIAN KUN ~ MEDIC

He didn’t even mean to get caught up in the mafia. It was a fluke thing, really. He had met Taeyong at a coffee shop that he had been working to get through medical school. Taeyong had walked in late at night with a huge gash on his shoulder. Kun being the almost certified doctor he was, took Taeyong and got him fixed up and out the door in less than 10 minutes with a complimentary coffee. The next night at the same time, his shop was bombarded by men in fancy suits with Taeyong offering him a proposal: Leave college and this job for the Mafia and be guaranteed protection for him and his family in China.

As he thought about his family, he knew he couldn’t say no. He wanted a better life for not only himself but his mom and dad. He needed this even though he hated to admit it. When they come back from a mission or a run, he doesn't get nosy and ask questions...he just does what he was brought here to do.

“There is only one hell: The one we live in now.”

____________

KIM DOYOUNG ~ HEAD OF WEAPONRY

Always had a thing for guns and knives...seems to call him. He makes sure everyone who is going on a mission or run is fully equipped for anything that may be thrown at them...literally. He makes sure everyone not only has weapons but also, safety gear that could withstand anything from a gunshot to a cherry bomb (which he also makes himself)

He has a cold exterior but once you get him out of his office and surrounded by his fellow members, he is very lively and very blunt in getting his point across in the most loving way possible.

“If the enemy is in range...so are you.”

______________

TEN ~ TRAINER FOR HAND TO HAND COMBAT

He takes everyone under his wings. He works alongside Doyoung but in the opposite form: Hand to Hand. Ten makes sure that he teaches EVERYONE apart of Neo Culture hand to hand so just in case that a weapon fails or they are in close range, they know how to easily take out an enemy. He also teaches fatal shots to pressure points, temple hits, and body twists. Makes it so it seems as if when they fight, they are boneless.

He is always open with his members from the get-go. He makes sure he is always available for his members...his family.

“Your body is a temple...don’t let me knock it down.”

________________

JUNG JAEHYUN ~ INTERROGATOR / TORTURE SPECIALIST

Jaehyun uses mental tactics to get inside his victims’ heads. Makes it feel as if he already knows what they have done when in actual reality he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be getting out of them. Yet when he meets a tough cookie that doesn’t fall for his mental tricks, he doesn’t have a problem getting physical with different instruments.

Once off the job, he couldn’t hurt a fly. He relies on the care of his members to rid his mind of the horrific things he has seen during the day. Warm smile yet killer eyes that makes even the toughest man weak in the knees.

“Do not let too much thinking paralyze the doing.”

DONG SICHENG (WINWIN) ~ FOREIGN BOSS OF AFFAIRS (CHINA)

This boy couldn’t hurt anyone from the get-go. He learned from pain and mistrust that he only has himself and his members. He joined Neo Culture when his family was murdered in a Triad hit and run. He tried to leave China after that so he went to South Korea. He lived paycheck to paycheck until he was taken under Taeyong’s wing. He was put as Foreign Boss of Affairs for the China branch. Like Yuta, he reports tensions of local gangs and Neo Culture to Taeyong.

When it gets too much for him - being in China - he always welcomed back to Seoul along with his own men. His anger sits locked inside of him...just bubbling over in the pot labeled as his mind. He believes that he should treat his men with a kind hand at night and a firm fist during the day. Always welcomes his own into his office to talk about their feelings. He felt as if he had no one for the longest time and he doesn’t want others to feel as if they had no one either. He’s there.

“You can tell how dangerous a person is by how they hold their anger inside them quietly.”

______________

KIM JUNGWOO ~ SNIPER / MANIPULATOR

His steady hand comes in use when he is needed for roof-top duties. Always knows where everyone, why they’re there, and what they’re going to be doing 10 minutes from now. Yet, when he is needed on the ground, he is used to getting people to come with him. He is used to using people. Buys pretty ladies drinks just to get them back to headquarters to find out what their partner is planning, or he could become friends with another leader to get insights on what they are doing in cases of funds, attacks, or pop-ups.

Is relatively hidden in the shadows for good reason. Once he’s recognized more than once then he has some explaining to do to the person he was trying to seduce. He isn’t afraid to aid the others on the smallest of missions just to make sure that they get out of their alive.

“Never start an argument with a man that can take you out from another zip-code.”

______________

WONG YUKHEI (LUCAS) ~ MANIPULATOR

He is ready to get into anything just to find out sought-after information. A car, a brawl, a bed - you name it. You name it, he’s probably been in it to get valued information that will put his team ahead of everyone else so no one can touch them.

During work, he doesn’t let his emotion get in the way of anything, yet when he’s around his members he lets all emotion go and unwinds. He is always changing himself so he doesn’t get recognized.

“Keep yourself closed off for it won’t give me the opportunity to get what I wanted in the first place.”

___________

LEE MARK ~ HEAD OF JUNIOR FORCES

Mark...he’s the man that Taeyong goes to when he finds another kid that needs someplace to go. Mark usually goes on hits with the other members, yet when they’re at headquarters - you can find him training everyone younger than him. He is skilled in everything from explosives to money transfers in hacking. He’s paving the way for all the prospering youths to be prepared for when they become legal. Once they become legal, then Mark won’t have to teach them anything else and will expect them to prove their skills to all the other members.

Super caring and fun to be around with the members (to be) during training, yet when he’s out on a run - he’s as scary as Taeyong. He was a natural born leader so even though he’s younger than all the official members...he’s looked up to. He paved his own road that he’s traveling on so he can teach others to do the same for themselves.

“You better watch yourself, I did this all by myself.”

_______________

HUANG RENJUN ~ ASSASSIN

He was the second child in his ethnic Chinese family. His parents were poor and couldn’t afford him. They left him outside an orphanage and he grew up there with his anger boiling inside of him. He had terrible anger issues so once so many homes wouldn’t take him...he was transferred to Korea where as soon as he arrived at the new home, he ran away. Taeyong caught him stealing random scrap supplies from their warehouse and decided to bring him in.

He has a lot of anger so he makes sure to put everything into his actions as he trains and practices. He wanted vengeance at first but now he just wants a safe place where he knows people care for him.

“When you get angry, count to ten...when you reach eight, throw the punch that no one expected.”

_____________

LEE JENO ~ POISON / HALLUCINATION SPECIALIST

Even though he’s still younger than most members, the members come to him asking for anything to drug a victim, especially Jaehyun. He always had a knack for making people go crazy in their own minds. He was a troubled youth which made his parents roam and eventually disown him. He carries a chip on his shoulder even though he has a family now: Neo Culture

He used to use his own Hallucination tactics on himself to escape his painful reality of being unloved. After meeting Mark and all of the other boys though, his own happiness became his drug he just couldn’t get enough of.

“It’s not called dreaming when you induce it on yourself...it’s called a hallucination.”

___________

LEE HAECHAN ~ DECOY

He uses his slyness and trickery to throw off others while on hits. He is used by the higher-ups in missions. No one would expect an innocent looking boy to be deadly and involved in such hazardous tasks. Whether it’s using prosthetic to disguise himself in the line of enemies, or stealing identities to get into elite social and business gatherings for other syndicates, he does it all.

He always had an issue of figuring out who he was as a little kid. With this work though...he could be anything or anyone. Yet, once he takes off the fake body features and makeup, he becomes the classy and funny boy his friends have all grown to know.

“Why be ordinary when I have the chance to be anyone?”

_____________

NA JAEMIN ~ ARSONIST

Jaemin always loved the idea of fire. Anything that you created could be gone so quickly. He loved being in control of it though. He loved being able to manipulate it to the point where he figured out to burn a single space in a matter of 5 minutes. He works alongside Doyoung in the aspect of learning what it takes to makes bombs and do it safely. Yet, sometimes he doesn’t care and just lets it range free as he watches in awe of its power to destroy something it took so long to build.

His family kicked him out at 13 once they found his stash of explosives and fire equipment. Taeyong found his ability and hobby a good use and asset to the team. He acts super badass and hard when in actual reality, he’s super soft and a huge nerd when he is surrounded by his friends.

“The most powerful weapon on Earth is the human soul on fire.”

______

ZHONG CHENLE ~ ESCAPE ARTIST (IN TRAINING)

He was always put in sticky situations as a child. He came from the same situation as Renjun, yet he was never taken in by anyone. When he finally was, he escaped as quickly as he could from that ‘home’. He was tied down by the people who were supposed to look after him, yet he got out. He uses his abilities to be able to get out of any situation. Whether he is in the situation, or he’s telling another member what to do, he is relied on to get them out of there in a safe and timely manner.

He uses his abilities in his day to day life. Whether Kun wants him to help with washing some bloody towels or Jaehyun needs help to scrub blood off the floor, Chenle will quickly, effortlessly, and seamlessly slip out of the room unnoticed. Once he escapes, he runs to his friends to hang out and play games.

“It’s not that I want to escape my life in itself, I want to escape the harsh reality OF my life.”

____________

PARK JISUNG ~ ANTI - DOCTOR (IN TRAINING)

Basically goes against Kun. If an enemy is brought in and Kun already fixed them up, he would be the one to go back in and reverse everything that helped. He worked under Kun for a while and learned everything he needed to in order to save someone, and then reversed it. Kun didn’t approve but he would never let Jisung know that. If it’s still confusing, basically: an enemy comes in all beat up and injured (shot) - Kun fixes said victim - Jaehyun gets information out of said enemy - Jisung comes in and takes out the stitches that held all his wounds closed. Slowly and painfully. He knows how to keep the person alive while still bringing the most pain as possible.

His family kicked him out at age 11 for being ‘psychotic’. He learned how to fend for himself through the waves of wanting vengeance. Yet, with being the youngest, he has all his hyungs to lead him on a better path with the exception of his trained work.

“I’m not afraid of monsters thanks to the one that lives inside of me.”

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littlemisskookie · 6 years

Text

Four Letters: Ch 8

Four Letters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Ship: FWB!Jungkook | IceQueen!Reader | Yoongi Description: College!AU. Enemies to Lovers. Your icy exterior makes it seem as though you dislike everyone- which is partially true. But the one person you truly dislike is the cocky frat boy Jeon Jungkook. Warnings: Threesome, Double Penetration, Ass-Play, Dirty Talk, Oral, Cum-Eating, Cum-Play, Degrading Names, Spit Roasting, Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Forced Orgasms, Pussy Slapping, Gagging, Creampie, Blowjob, Intercourse, Deep Throating, Light Spanking, Slight Exhibitionism, Unprotected Sex, Choking, Squirting, Lots of Overstimulation, Light Spitting, Slight Dub-Con, Sloppy Seconds? D/S Themes, Light Fluff, Angst Word Count: 12,330

"Why are you crying?"

You look up at Tae from your laptop, tears streaming down your face. You hurriedly wipe them away as Taehyung rushes to your side, giving you a warm embrace, cradling you to help you feel warm and comforted.

"Shh, I'm sure it's ok. What is it?" Taehyung questioned, his voice soft and soothing despite the fact he had just been woken up by the sounds of your crying in the middle of the night. His eyes were trained on you with concern, and you could tell that much from how the laptop's screen illuminated his features in the otherwise dark room.

"I-I forgot to submit my essay and n-now it's too late," you sniffle, wiping away at your nose. "God, I fucked up so badly. I can't believe I was this irrisponsible."

"Hey, it's alright. It'll be ok," Taehyung assures you, massaging your shoulders.

You felt as though you were being a melodramatic baby, but you couldn't help yourself. You had pulled an all-nighter on this before and forgot to turn it in. Now you were minutes late, and you knew you'd end up getting a zero on the essay. There was no doubt it'd bring down your grade. "No it isn't!" you heard yourself wail.

Taehyung was patient and kind. "You're bright, Y/N. One paper isn't going to get in the way of you graduating. It's only your freshman year of college anyway."

"I hate it already," you sniffle, pouting as you looked glumly at the screen. It seemed to mock you and the cold tears that ran down your cheeks.

Taehyung slowly shut your computer. "You should go to bed. There's nothing that can be accomplished by moping over something that's already been done. You'll pull up your grade with the next few graded assignments- I'm sure of it."

You rise from the chair as Taehyung pulls you closer to the bed. He lifts up the sheet for you to climb inside, following you after. You roll on top of him, bear-hugging his waist as you nuzzle his chest. You're overcome by the scent of him, not some cheap smelling cologne- just Taehyung. It smelled like home. It smelled like memories of your first kiss with him at a football game, where your team won and you were cheering so loudly that he leaned over and kissed you just to shut you up in the most polite way possible. It smelled like snuggling next to a roaring fire when his parents were out of town, the two of you curled into a blanket and tipsy from sneaking the vodka from the liquor cabinet, playing ISPY despite the fact both of your visions were blurry.

Your lids are droopy when you pressed your lips against Tae's, molding them together. You melt into the feeling, a smile on your lips until you pull back, your eyelids fluttering open.

Beside you is a man you do not recognize. Another nameless student at your school, another face you wouldn't see. Yet the two of you were stark naked beneath the sheets, and you could feel the bass from the speakers cause the house you were in to vibrate. You heard each crashing boom and the muffled hollers from downstairs, and you had just given this stranger your virginity.

It had been a bit over a month since Taehyung left you.

Or had it been longer? It felt as though each minute was a day, as the days drag on into years. For all you knew it had only been a week.

So your friend Lisa had dragged your depressed self to a random party, and you drowned yourself in your worries with alcohol and started to dance, only to hook up with the man who had been grinding on you for a majority of the night.

You roll over, looking at his face, analyzing it. Up close he wasn't nearly as blurry and evidently wasn't nearly as good looking. But you had dated Tae, so your standards were by far higher than most.

It was funny. You always assumed you would've given it to Taehyung. Whether it be after a few more months of dating or on your wedding night- you had built up this whole fantasy of it being sweet and sensual and romantic- giving your virginity to the man you loved.

Instead, it had been boring, sloppy, and short.

"That was great," the man grinned beside you, adjusting as he sprawled himself against the mattress. He's a senior- which explains why you had never seen him. Though he decided to hook up with a random freshman, you didn't know. He glances at you. "Did you cum?"

Considering the fact he hadn't even touched your clit, something that even the inexperienced you knew about, you'd have to decline.

"Sure," you find yourself saying. You thought back to what had just transpired between the two of you. How uneventful. You came to the conclusion that sex was by far overrated- and for that matter, men.

Of course, it would take you three months to finally put that to heart, as you slept around with plenty of men in some effort to numb the feeling of being abandoned.

But for now, you'd subside with putting your clothes back on and leaving the room, going back down to the party where drunk people would dance pressed against one another without a care in the world.

You bump into someone the minute you step off the stairs. A doe-eyed boy collided with your figure. He was tall, but there wasn't much muscle there. You recognized him, however. He was the boy who apparently arrived at the school in some fancy car that no broke college student could afford, who's parents were rumored to buy his way into the school.

You forgot his name but nevertheless didn't pay much attention to him. What would you care about some spoiled rich kid? He probably didn't have to work for anything that was handed to him, and as he grew up he wouldn't know how to do anything. People like that were always reduced to nothing- rubble- from what you knew. "Sorry," he apologized as you turned away, brushing past him.

It was your first interaction with Jeon Jungkook- but months later he would become built and obnoxious, shedding his rich boy persona in favor of the more punk look- and absolutely content with bugging the ever loving shit out of you. At which point the two of you had changed so drastically that the brief encounter was completely forgotten.

If only you knew at that moment what he would become. What the two of you would become.

"Y/N!" he shouted.

You freeze. How did he know your name?

"Y/N!" he calls again. You turn around, brows furrowed. His voice was higher than usual.

"Y/N!"

Your eyes snap up, and you bolt upright, turning towards Lisa who stood at your doorway, the light to your room on.

"Y/N, is it ok if I borrow one of your jeans? The ripped ones that are that washed out color," Lisa questions. "I'm surprised you're still sleeping in. It's the middle of the day. I mean, I know we don't have classes today but..."

You're dazed, still trying to bring yourself to reality, trying to decipher what little you got from the dream before it disappeared from your mind forever. The blend of memories and dreams that seemed to blur.

Lisa gave you a concerned look. "Are you ok? You look out of it. Well... frazzled."

You rub at your eyes, your mind hazy. "It's nothing just a weird dream."

Lisa snapped her fingers and pointed to you. "You're running but the thing you're running to just gets farther and farther?"

"That's your dream- not mine," you huff. It had been a while since what transpired between Hoseok and Lisa- weeks, actually. She had been rather depressed at first, and you returned the favor by cheering her up in her time of need.

She definitely seemed a lot more chipper, though, recently.

"Where are you going anyway?" you questioned as she rummaged through your closet.

She bites her lip in excitement, turning to you as she holds the jeans to her chest. "I have a date today."

Your eyes are wide as you stare at her. "Wait- what?"

"I met this really cute guy at the coffee shop a few days ago; cliche, but it was so cute! They got our drinks mixed up and we ended up sitting with one another and chatting. We exchanged numbers, and I didn't want to say anything because I figured it might be a bit too soon- but we've got a date today!"

"That's great, Lisa!" you say enthusiastically. "What's his name?"

"Jin," she grins. "Oh, Y/N, he's the most gorgeous man you've ever seen! Like, if Aphrodite and- I don't know, some other really hot person, had a baby- it's this guy! He's absolutely dreamy!"

You're pleased to know that she's getting over Hoseok, and hopefully, this Jin character will help get her mind off of the man she had been in love with for so long.

"Maybe one day Jin and I could go on a double date with you and Jeon. I know it's too soon to think of such things, but I can't help it," Lisa says gleefully.

"Jungkook doesn't date. Besides, I went on a date with Yoongi. Not Jungkook," you clarify. Though, you still need to properly speak to Yoongi about the whole Jungkook situation. The two of you had been tiptoeing around it too much, without addressing the situation, and it made whenever the two of you hung out way tenser.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Yoongi's just the guy you're going out with because he's safe."

"What do you mean by that?" you question, furrowing your brows.

"C'mon, Y/N. Everyone calls him the guy you- and you figure if you get someone similar to yourself they'll be less likely to hurt you- because you wouldn't hurt you. You're scared of Jungkook because you're scared of getting as close to someone as you were to Tae."

You tense at that, the name making your muscles tighten.

Lisa gives you a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, I'm just speaking my mind. I mean, it's obvious. You're afraid of getting attached to someone because it'll mean getting hurt. With Yoongi you can stay detached."

"Since when were you one to speak your mind?" you questioned.

Lisa shrugged. "I don't know. I guess having to prevent saying what I've wanted to for so long, I realized that I'd be a lot happier if I said what I meant and meant what I said. It quits the bullshit, y'know? I'm a lot happier when I say what I've always wanted to. Maybe you could learn something from it."

You glare at her as she wags her brows, and you know perfectly well what she is insinuating. "There's nothing I want to say."

"Only because you won't admit it to yourself yet," Lisa teased. "But don't worry- sometimes it's hard for insiders to see what the rest of the world does."

"And what does the world see, exactly?" you ask, cocking your head to the side.

She steps forward to ruffle your hair, though it doesn't do much. You've got bed head still from just waking up. Her smile is bright, and you can't remember the last time it was so genuine.

"That you're head over fucking heels for Jeon."

You're tapping furiously at your laptop, eyes flickering up to the assignments that you'll have to do later on. Read this chapter, read that, write this essay, fill out this question- you loved Psychology, of course, but the teacher really loved to pile on homework for the lot of you.

You feel a presence slide next to you, and you turn to Jungkook. Your brows furrow. "What're you doing here?" you question. "You don't usually sit next to me."

Jungkook shrugs. "Lisa's not here- you probably know what happened to her- and Hoseok's away to visit his sister. So why not?"

"I dunno, it's just different," you mumble to yourself, your cheeks heating up when you realize you stammered your words a bit. You needed to concentrate on copying this down- not Jungkook.

"Am I not allowed to sit next to you?" Jungkook questioned.

"Why would you want to?" you shoot back, eyes darting back to the words above. Your teacher had a habit of turning things off too fast or clicking through the slides at the speed of light.

Jungkook shrugs again. "I just like spending time with you."

You snort in derision, amused. "You like sleeping with me, that's what."

Jungkook smiles at that. "I'm serious. Sleeping together or not, you're pleasant to be around."

Your fingers freeze over your keyboard as you look to him. "I think pleasant is the last word someone would describe me as, Jeon. You must not know me at all."

"Nah," he grins, his smile oddly adorable. "Maybe I just know you all too well."

"I'm called an Ice Queen for a reason," you remind him, going back to copying down the information.

"Ice can melt," Jungkook says.

"Why would I melt?" you say, looking to him for a straightforward answer.

His grin only grows larger. "Some people are worth melting for."

You blink at him, your face stony. "I'm going to ignore you now and pretend that you did not just quote Olaf from Frozen with the cheesiest line ever said."

Jungkook cackles at that, and despite your insistence on ignoring the annoying prick, you can't wipe the small smile on your face or suppress your uplifted spirits.

Namjoon was currently in one of the storage closets putting away the knickknacks that were cluttering up the studio. You glanced to Yoongi, deciding that if you were going to say something, now was the time to. At least while Namjoon was gone.

"Uh, Yoongi, can I talk to you?" you ask him softly.

He looks up to you. "Sure, what's up?"

"It's about Jungkook."

He tenses at that. "What about him?"

"I mean... I'm sorry. I should've told you that I was hooking up with him on a regular basis. It wasn't fair of me to keep that a secret from you while we were talking or on that date. What I did was wrong and I'm truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you, and that was truly my last intention. I guess I figured that if I told you would judge me. I mean, it's Jeon, your frat brother, of all people. And I complain about him 24/7- I'm rambling, I'm sorry. My point is I should've told you."

Yoongi shrugs. "What? You don't need to apologize."

Your brows furrow. "I don't?"

Yoongi shakes his head. "You and I aren't given a title or anything yet- hell, we only really went on one date. And if we aren't exclusive, you have the right to sleep with whoever you want. Even if it's Jungkook. What happens between the two of you isn't my business."

You blink at him in surprise. "So... you're not mad?"

He smiles lightly at that. "Nope."

"So... we're good then?"

"I think so."

"And you want to continue..."

"This?" His eyes lock with yours. "Definitely."

You lick your lips, smiling slightly to yourself at that. You open your mouth to say something, but it's at that moment Namjoon reappears from the storage closet, beaming to you.

"Oh, Y/N, I almost forgot!" He walked closer, unaware of the conversation you and Yoongi had just shared. "Would you mind helping us carry stuff into the frat house for the party? On Friday. We need a lot of help since a few of the guys are gonna be gone."

"The party this Friday?" you question, quirking a brow.

"You'd just have to help some of the guys carry the coolers and not spill the beer- it's nothing really," Namjoon assured you. "And your sorority is the sister house! Therefore it's kind of your responsibility as well."

You roll your eyes at that. "Fine, fine, I'll help."

"Great!" he cheers, patting your shoulder. "You need to get some more muscle anyway."

You gawk at that, and Yoongi only cackles.

"Xiyeon, I'm so sorry for how I treated you a few weeks ago. I was frustrated, angry, and overwhelmed. I got it in my mind that you'd replace me. Somehow you'd take Hoseok and become Y/N's best friend- I was just insecure. But it was wrong of me to lash it out on you," Lisa apologizes, her hands held in Xiyeon's.

The two of them had finally sat down to have a proper conversation face to face, talking about everything that had transpired between them. You were there to act as something of a mediator in case something went out of hand, but based on the glassy eyes and the way the two squeezed each other's hands, you guessed that wouldn't happen.

"Oh, Lisa, I'm so sorry. You were struggling with Hoseok and I worsened everything by sleeping with him. I might've been drunk but I still did it, and I know that hurt you deeply and put a strain on everyone's relationship. I was so stressed, the guilt was eating me alive. I should've told you straightaway, though," Xiyeon says, one of her hands slipping out of Lisa's to wipe away a tear, her lips trembling.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. You suffered far more than you should've. You're innocent and you didn't mean for it to happen. But I can't forgive you," Lisa says softly.

Your head snaps up at that, and Xiyeon's face falls.

Lisa breaks out into a grin, though. "Because there's nothing to forgive. You don't need to apologize to me."

Xiyeon finally lets the tears cascade down her cheeks, throwing herself onto Lisa, hugging her tightly. The two of them clung to each other, gripping each other's clothes as they tried to pull the other closer. Their embrace was tight, and both of them were outright sobbing, their bodies shaking as they held each other in their arms.

You found the tender moment to be sweet. You cough awkwardly, though, making your prescence known. "I know this is a sweet moment and all- but it's pretty gay, so might want to warn Jin he's got competition," you snicker.

The two laugh at that, with Lisa slapping your arm.

You smile to yourself. Despite how many problems were within the group, and the guys that surrounded your life, you were always going to be content with your girls.

"Yoongi texted me. He says that he's running late due to traffic, but he'll be here later to help," Namjoon tells you, looking down at his phone.

You nod in response, shrugging. "That's fine. Just tell him where I am and to come and find me. Where do you want me to help anyway?"

"Jungkook's supposed to be rolling in any minute now with some coolers of beer- it'd be a great help if you helped him carry it inside," Namjoon said. His attention was soon diverted as someone else called for his attention, and you gave him a nod as a silent goodbye, stepping outside to the car.

It rolled up into the driveway- the crummy car that many of the guys used to run their errands. Jungkook parked it, stepping out as he opened the trunk. You step forward, creeping behind him.

"Hey, Jeon," you greet.

Jungkook seems to jump five feet in midair, and you can't help but cackle evilly seeing the expression on his face. "Dear God, woman! Don't just sneak up on me like that!"

You chuckle at how frazzled he still seems. "Namjoon told me to come here to help you carry some coolers inside. Probably because of those spaghetti arms of yours."

Jungkook scoffs. "Wow, sure. You, in comparison, look like those dancing things in front of car sales."

You give a mock-offended expression. "I'm insulted!"

"Yeah yeah. Help me with these coolers, then we'll really get to roasting each other."

You laugh at that, rolling your eyes. You're surprised, however, when Jungkook quickly leans in to catch your lips, cradling your face in his hands as he presses his mouth against yours. It isn't forceful or rough, and it lasts only for a second before he breaks away.

"What was that for?" you question, calm but confused.

"Am I not allowed to do that?" Jungkook asked, eyes wide with worry. "Did you not like it or something?"

"What? Yes, Jungkook, you're allowed to. And I liked it- I always do. My question is why you did it though," you ask him again, collecting your thoughts. You weren't mad at him in the slightest. In fact, you're smiling a bit, feeling the faint feeling of his lips against yours lingering.

"Oh." Jungkook thought for a moment, as though he weren't so sure himself. "I dunno. I just felt like kissing you I guess."

"Oh," you respond, wondering if you could read into his words a bit deeper.

Jungkook looks to you nervously. "Can I kiss you again?"

You chuckle, amused at how hesitant he seemed in comparison to how many things he had done with you sexually before. "Sure," you say. Jungkook's hand is on your cheek again, and he kisses you tenderly. You close your eyes, kissing him back, feeling yourself melt into the feeling.

You catch yourself for the briefest moments.

Pushing him away slightly, you shake your head. "We still have to do a job, Jeon."

"Oh- right!"

You wouldn't have thought it'd take half an hour to drag coolers inside. But you also didn't suspect them to weigh practically a ton. How the hell it was so heavy, you didn't know. But needless to say, once the very last one was slammed down onto the tile floor on the kitchen, you were a sweaty mess.

Jungkook was worn out as well, was panting, sitting down on the floor to lean against the kitchen cabinets.

You sit down next to him, sweaty. "Is this the part where we roast each other again?"

"Let me catch my breath first," Jungkook huffed, running his fingers through his hair.

You catch the glint of silver along the digits and quirk your brow. "Since when did you start wearing so many rings?"

"Oh- I just felt like it today. Damn things were digging into my fingers the entire time, though. I should've taken them off while we were getting those blasted coolers."

Your eyes linger on the rings, concentrated on the veiny hand from the workout, and the long digits decorated by metal. Jungkook seems to notice how your gaze lingers for a second too long, because soon he's licking his lips, staring at you with the same expression.

"Want to... take a break?"

Jungkook's tongue traveled along the slope of your neck, his lips sucking tenderly to form bruises along your skin. Your back was firmly pressed against his chest as you arched yourself into his touch, his rough hands kneading your breasts. You whimpered, spreading your legs, your skirt opening further to reveal the lacy underwear you had hidden underneath.

"Mm, does my babygirl like being touched here?" Jungkook questioned, mumbling the words into the crook of your neck as his fingers pinched the sensitive buds, hard as pebbles in his hands as he toyed with them.

"Yes," you say breathily, opening your droopy eyes as you looked to the door you were facing, trying to recall whether or not you had remembered to lock it. Your mind was hazy, however, when Jungkook's hands slid down your shirt, riding over your skirt to lift it up and slide your panties off your legs. The cold rings glided along your skin, and you shivered at his touch as you kicked off the cotton, his fingers reaching down to your heat. The cold metal contrasting with the warmth made you gasp despite yourself, and Jungkook petted at your folds, his fingers now glistening with your fluids.

"What about here?" Jungkook questioned slyly, pinching your clit, having you shudder and arch against him as he continued to toy at it, rubbing it carefully and slowly, though the pressure had you rolling your eyes back.

"God, Jungkook, please don't stop," you say, leaning back, craning your face to look at him. His lips collided against yours, devouring each whimper and moan that cascaded from your lips.

The door swung open to reveal Yoongi, and before you can curse yourself for forgetting to lock the door, his eyes are planted on the scene before him. Your cheeks turn crimson, and you snap your legs together, feeling utterly humiliated to be caught in the act by Yoongi no less. You opened your mouth to explain through embarrassed stammers and apologies, but Jungkook beat you to the chase. His hand, still caught between your thighs, moved lower to roughly thrust into you, two digits curling inside. You groaned before you could even bite your lip, feeling him move his fingers within you, the cold metal inside of you making you even more sensitive to his ministrations.

"Hey Yoongs," Jungkook says casually as though he weren't fingering you at the moment. He grins, licking his lips. "Nice of you to join us."

You look at him in alarm, but as he hits your g-spot and grinds the palm of his hand into your clit, you're unable to utter even a single sentence. "Spread your legs, babygirl. Let him see the view," Jungkook cooed. You hesitantly spread your legs apart, Jungkook's hand freeing itself from its grip on your breast to pry apart your legs, leaving you completely exposed to Yoongi's blank gaze. "Though, from what I know, he's already seen it, hasn't he?"

Yoongi looks darkly to Jungkook, his mouth pressed in a tight line. "Are you trying to rub something in my face, Jeon?"

Jungkook feigned innocence as you whimpered against him. "What do you mean? Don't act like you don't like seeing her like this. It's no secret you've had a thing for her. C'mon, I'm sure she can handle two at once, can't you babygirl?"

The question directed to you has you shudder and bite your lips, your gaze locking with Yoongi's. His expression is unreadable, and you think he's about to storm off and wants nothing to do with you. Instead, he surprises you, walking forward to crash his lips against yours roughly. It's more dominant and domineering than what you were used to him, but still, you welcomed it, kissing him back with equal urgency. Your mind was swimming, Jungkook's fingers slipping out of you to rub against your clit as his tongue brushed against the expanse of your neck, sucking harshly.

Yoongi got off of you for a moment, tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Off," he said simply, his voice gruff and raspy already.

You didn't hesitate, unwrapping Jungkook's arms from around you to pull the shirt off. You unclasp your bra for extra measure, feeling both of their lustful gazes ravish over you in nothing but a skirt.

Yoongi makes the first move, his hands fondling at your breasts as he sucks against the side of your neck, as though trying to conceal the forming bruises with his own, a sign of his own possessiveness that you hadn't seen from anyone other than Jeon.

Jungkook smirks at Yoongi from behind you. "Don't seem to be in such a bad mood anymore, do you?" he questioned.

Yoongi grunted in response, annoyed by the younger. "I can share for one night, dickhead."

Jungkook's fingers dip back down to your pussy, petting at the folds before sinking the two digits knuckle deep once again. "She's gotten even wetter since you walked in. She's dripping all over my hand like a slut."

"Must be excited to have two cocks at once," Yoongi grunts, his blunt nails digging into your breasts with a firm squeeze.

Your mind spins. The two of them seemed to work so well together, feeding off of each other in a comfortable manner, their words and movements like clockwork as they orchestrated with each other. You wondered how this was, and you remembered something Jeon had said but a little while before you two even started hooking up.

You tried to prevent the flaring of your cheeks- unwilling to admit to yourself that your small attraction to Yoongi had led to racy thoughts that had nothing to do with radio mixes or CDs. But you weren't going to let an asshole like Jungkook get to you. "Even if he did, he'd probably to better than your lame excuse of a dick."

"Really?" He quirked a brow, and you knew instantly that you said the wrong thing. "Because I can assure you that isn't exactly the case. Yoongi and I had this friend, and she wanted to spend some time with us- Yoongi's alright, I suppose, but I'm-"

"Knock it off kid, no one wants to hear about how the two of you spit roasted Kyulkyung," Hoseok said, grabbing onto the collar of Jungkook's shirt and yanking back, an annoyed look on his face. Everyone here was way too used to Jungkook trying to get under your skin- it had become quite the norm.

Jungkook shrugged, that annoying smirk remaining as he looked to the elder. "What? I'm just trying to help Y/N. Lord knows she'll need some good masturbation material when she fails to get laid tonight."

It clicked. No wonder Yoongi didn't show much reaction. It probably wasn't the first time he walked in on Jungkook with another girl and was invited to join in. And it was also no wonder he knew how to use such a filthy mouth, seeing as he was spit roasting girls with Jeon.

Yoongi's tongue slipped into your mouth, and the wet muscles twirled around one another, moving at a rhythm only you two knew.

Jungkook hissed. "She's clenching down so hard on my fingers, Yoongs."

Yoongi hummed, removing his forceful lips from your own to allow you to breathe. His hands remove themselves from your breasts to grab at your face, one squeezing your chin tightly. "Seems like we've got a greedy one this time, then, hm?" Yoongi hummed, amusement lacing his voice.

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you clenched down harder on Jungkook, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he moved his fingers inside you more, loving the way you instinctively squeezed around the digits.

"Y'know, she wouldn't stop teasing me about how you gave better head," Jungkook mentioned casually, admiring how rosy your cheeks turned. "I begged to differ- but maybe it was because I didn't see it in person. Care to demonstrate?"

Yoongi smirks at you, tilting your chin up so that you had no other choice than to stare him in the eye. "Awe, you said that I gave you good head? Better than Jeon, baby?" Yoongi cooes. You shift your gaze to the floor, but he redirects your head. "I asked you a question, answer."

Jungkook's hand slides out of you, and both turn to squeeze your hips hard enough you think they'll bruise. "He asked you a question, babygirl. Yoongi's got a short fuse sometimes."

You're one to talk, you think to yourself. You don't dare to say it aloud, however, knowing full and well you'll bend to their every whim and wish. "Yes," you say clearly.

Yoongi gives your cheek a light pat, giving you a grin of satisfaction. "Cute."

Jungkook tsked as Yoongi starts pulling your skirt off and draping it down your legs. "Don't get cocky, now."

"Apparently you don't give her good enough head- I feel like I have every right to be cocky," Yoongi bites back, descending down your body. He tugs you closer to the edge of the bed, and he kneels on the floor. Your legs are on the edge of the bed, and Jungkook scoots behind you, supporting you as you lean against his chest. Yoongi spreads your legs further, having them lay flat against the bed, your naked cunt exposed to him, glistening with your juices.

"Why don't you teach me, then?" Jungkook suggests, his voice a quiet hum. "I want to see how she squirms for you."

"I'll have her fucking my tongue in no time," Yoongi grunts, his hands digging into your thighs, red marks already beginning to form. He licks a stripe along your slit, tongue gathering fluids from between your folds as it drags up to the sensitive clit, adding a small twirl for finesse to have you shiver.

"Shit," you say, biting your lower up at the sensation, Yoongi attaching his lips to your cunt now, sucking nimbly as he warms you up with his tongue. The blood rushes down, the heat making you feel as if you were in a sweltering room.

Yoongi stares up at you as he stares up into your eyes, his tongue lapping at your folds, dark and piercing, studying you carefully. You felt as though the tension was too much, and quickly turn away, squirming as he sucks harshly at your clit. Jungkook doesn't tolerate any of it, however, grabbing onto the back of your head, gathering a thick chunk of hair before forcing you to look down at Yoongi. "Watch him fuck you with his tongue," Jungkook says, his voice a deep growl as he rasps in your ear. "I want you to see how he properly eats out a slut."

You curse quietly under your breath, your eyes trained on Yoongi, and you feel him smile against you before traveling lower again, not wanting you to reach your release so quickly. His tongue laps at your entrance, the copious amount of fluids covering his taste buds. Lewd sounds fill the room, and there's not much you can do to conceal your moans.

Soon he's tracing two fingers around your entrance, sliding them in easily with absolutely no resistance, the slick covering his fingers as he crooks them up into your g-spot. You gasp aloud as he repeatedly curls his fingers in a come-hither motion, harshly sucking at your clit. You can hear each lap of his tongue against your pussy, and the sounds make you squirm against him, biting your lip as you instinctively buck into his fingers, riding his face.

"Add another finger," Jungkook suggests, staring down at your exposed cunt as well. "She's taking two cocks tonight- she'll have to be stretched out properly."

Yoongi does as Jungkook says, adding a not just a third digit, but a fourth as well, your walls squeezing around the fingers as they stretch further to accommodate him. Jungkook's right, though. You'd definitely get more than just four fingers tonight. And you were looking forward to it.

"You like the idea of having two cocks lodged in that tight cunt of yours, at the same time?" Jungkook purrs in your ear, his words dark and laced with lust. His pupils are blown out with just at just the thought. "You'll be so stretched out, babygirl. Your greedy little pussy won't get enough. A slut like you can barely be sated with one dick, hm?"

"Fuck, I want both of you inside me," you moan, your mind spinning at the thought of having both of them fucking your pussy at the same time. Not just one in your pussy and the other in your ass, but both of them stretching you out and filling you out to the brim, their cocks pressed against each other as they manage to squeeze into your convulsing walls. And once both of them came in you, you'd be so full, and copious amount of cum would be leaking down your legs and smeared over your pussy, despite how deep they spill into your womb. The image was the hottest thing you could think of.

Yoongi thrusts his fingers inside of you, his tongue swirling around your clit, milking you for all you were worth in order to get you to cum on his tongue. Your hips seemed to move on their own as you rutted your hips into his fingers and tongue, the friction of his tongue against you making your movements almost animalistic.

Suddenly Yoongi removed his mouth from your cunt, pulling back, though his fingers continued to pump into you. However, your orgasm soon began to die down, only at that teasing amount of pressure that had you yearning for more. "You don't get to cum until we say you can," Yoongi says gruffly, dark eyes glazing over you.

You bit your lower lip, eyes pleading. "Yoongi, please?"

Yoongi looks up to Jungkook, their eyes locking.

You turn to Jungkook, craning your neck. "Jungkook, please, c'mon!" You weren't used to being teased like this. The last time Jungkook did it to you, you were furious.

Jungkook shrugged, a smile plastered over his face, however, to see you begging. "Yoongi's rules, not mine."

"Use your big girl words, baby," Yoongi suggested, a deliberate thrust with his fingers that had you arching your back against Jeon's back. "What do you want?"

"I want you to make me cum on your tongue," you blurted out, cheeks becoming flushed once again.

Yoongi grinned deviously at that. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he says huskily, his hot breath fanning over your heat before he connects his mouth against your cunt, sucking on the clit until the rapid pace of his fingers and harsh sucks had you cumming on his face, your hips jerking in mid-air to the point that Jungkook had to pin them down.

Yoongi didn't stop, however, his tongue continuing to lap at your clit as you squirmed, cringing from the overstimulation.

"Don't stop, Yoongi," Jungkook encouraged, keeping your legs spread apart to prevent you from caging Yoongi between them. "Get her to cum again."

Yoongi obeyed, his tongue continuing to suck tenderly at your engorged clit, and you felt tears prick the corner of your eyes. You felt the pain and pleasure blossom throughout your core, and your fingers tugged at Yoongi's locks, trying to push him away, but he stayed firmly in place until you were outright sobbing, your second orgasm taking control as you shake.

You're limp in Jungkook's arms, panting as you collapse against his chuckling form. Still, you know in the back of your mind that it is far from the end of the night.

"Aren't you going to say thank you, babygirl? Yoongi worked hard," Jungkook cooed, fingers threading through your hair.

You couldn't form proper sentences, however, your lips not moving.

"He asked you to answer, baby," Yoongi says darkly, leaning over you.

Your legs slowly close, and your hazy mind struggles to think of what words you should form. You're too late, however, as Jungkook and Yoongi exchange a knowing glance. Jungkook reaches for your legs, prying them apart, spreading them once more as Yoongi's hand went down to slap your cunt.

You jolted upright, fully alert, tears at the corners of your eyes as you yelped. Yoongi looked irritated, and you remember the bit about him having a bit of a short fuse. You feel guilty for being too lazy to even respond, and now you were paying the price.

"Fuck, Yoongi, I-"

"That's not what I want to hear, baby," Yoongi tsks, his hand slapping down to your cunt, watching you jerk at the sharp pain.

He holds one of your legs in place as he repeatedly smacks your pussy, hearing your whimpers. You cry, tilting your head back onto Jungkook's shoulder as you endure the pain, but he has none of it. He grabs onto a chunk of your hair, forcing you to look down as Yoongi landed another harsh smack against your pussy. "I want you to say thank you every time he slaps your pussy, cockslut."

Yoongi landed a hard slap against your cunt, making you jerk and jolt in Jungkook's grasp, your eyes trained on how you quivered at Yoongi's sharp blow. "Thank you," you whimper quietly.

Yoongi smacked your pussy once again. "Louder," he commanded.

"Thank you!" you speak clearly, voice daring to go to a rather normal level of volume. Yoongi doesn't seem satisfied, however, another blow following, as though he was intent on making you scream. Your lips quivered, and Jungkook's fist squeezed tighter, tugging at your scalp as your eyes stung. "Thank you!" you say, your voice shaky as you yelled it.

Yoongi patted against your cunt, fingers brushing through your folds as he leaned in, tongue messily moving with your own. "Good girl," he purred. "I think it's time you get fucked, isn't that right?"

Your watery eyes lock with his gaze, and you nod. Jungkook let's go of you, scooting back as he drags you back towards the center of the bed. Yoongi follows, quirking a brow to Jungkook. "You fuck her first- make her fucking cry," he suggests.

Jungkook grins at that, dragging his pants down his legs along with his briefs. He pulls you closer into his lap, spreading his legs as he lifts you to sit on his erect cock. "Gladly," he says to Yoongi. "Sit on my cock, Y/N. I want you to face Yoongi while I fuck you."

You're obedient, like putty in his hands as you lift your hips, reaching behind you to grab his dick, aligning it with your entrance before sinking down onto it. You let out a hiss, and Jungkook wraps his arms around you, jerking his hips up to buck into you, deep thrusts.

You gasp aloud, Jungkook's grip firm to make sure you don't fall off as he aggressively rams into you, hitting so deep to the point there's a hint of pain along with the pleasure. You struggle to stay upright as he bottoms out into you each time, his dick appearing and disappearing with each thrust. Your tits bounce wildly, and Yoongi's eyes glaze over your wrecked form with pure lust.

"Toy with yourself, baby," Yoongi suggests. "I want to see you fuck yourself on his dick."

You don't hesitate, your hands kneading at your breasts, the pebbled nipples pressing into your palms as you rubbed them against your hands, pinching and toying with them as you stared Yoongi in the eye. You bite your lip, preventing moans, though low grunts still emit from your mouth.

Jungkook reaches forward, lodging three fingers inside of your pussy to stretch you out further as he thrusts into you. "Still so tight. We'll barely be able to fit our cocks in you, babygirl," Jungkook grunts, the squelching sounds filling the room. "Don't worry; we'll make it fit."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you're panting, brows furrowing as you focus on the pleasure at hand. The heel of Jungkook's palm digs into your clit, and you're not able to do much more than let out a silent scream as he continues to abuse your body, still fucking himself into your pussy.

Your face contorts, legs beginning to wobble. "I don't think I can cum again, Jungkook, please."

"You're gonna be cumming on our cocks a lot more than this, baby," Yoongi cooed, glancing to Jungkook, which made the other man dig his palm harder against your clit, making you crumble against him. "Have to make sure you're properly fucked out, don't we?"

"Mmf," you grunt, biting onto your lip as you tilt your head back, trying not to cum again, not sure how much more you could take so quickly.

"Shit, I don't want to cum inside her just yet," Jungkook says, slowing down until he was still inside of you. He unwrapped his arms from around you, lifting you off of him. You let out a breath of relief, absolutely relieved and grateful, panting with a mind at ease until his next sentence. "Yoongs, you haven't hooked up with anyone since we spit roasted Kyulkyung, have you? I mean, last time I checked."

Yoongi furrowed his brows. "What? I haven't hooked up with anyone since then- I mean, other than Y/N."

Jungkook let out a breath of relief, looking to you. "He and I got tested afterward and came out clean. And if what he says is true, he's still clean."

"Where are you going with this?" Yoongi deadpanned. "Of course I'm clean."

Jungkook grinned, smacking your ass cheekily. "Fuck her pussy. I'll fuck her mouth in a bit."

You look back to Yoongi. "I thought you didn't want to have sex, Yoongi?"

Yoongi's eyes are dark, and he steps forward, grabbing you by the hips roughly, jerking you towards him as you fall on all fours. He raises your hips, your ass in the air as he smacks his hand against your ass, squeezing your cheek as he did so, the blunt fingernails digging into your skin to shut you up. "I changed my mind," he grunted.

"You haven't fucked her, yet?" Jungkook asked, confused, the information new to him. It morphs into a cocky grin, however. "You're missing out, Yoongs. Tightest, wettest pussy I've ever fucked. Keeps me coming back for more."

Yoongi only grunts in response, and you hear him taking off his pants. Soon enough the blunt heat is pressing against your entrance, and he's sinking into you. He bottoms out with a rough jerk, trying to press himself as deep as possible into your womb. You groan at the feeling, but he doesn't give you time to adjust, bucking his hips against you. His fingers dig into your cheeks, spreading them apart so that he can watch as his cock appears and disappears inside of you. Your slick juices cover his shaft, and it glistens in the light before he plunges himself back into you.

Jungkook squeezes the base of his cock, which is an angry shade of red, and soon enough he's grabbing your hair again, your head previously pressed firmly into the mattress to suppress your moans. He grabs at your chin, forcing your mouth open as he lodges his cock into your mouth. "Suck," he commands as you straighten yourself up. You obey, letting your tongue twirl around the head before he sinks lower, bottoming out into your throat. Your eyes water at the intrusion, and you screw them shut, your nose buried in his pubic hair.

Jungkook's hand wraps around your throat, preventing you from getting any air without his consent. He grunts, dragging his cock out before slamming his hips into your face once again, and he can feel the way his dick plunges into your throat, the walls contracting around the girth as you struggle to take him in as Yoongi continues to pound into you.

"She's taking our dicks like a champ," Jungkook chuckles, his other hand lodged in your hair as his mischevious eyes lock with your watery ones, and he sinks you as far down onto his cock until your nose is squished against his pelvic bone.

"Guess the whore likes getting spit roasted- she's still so wet," Yoongi grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic.

"Put your thumb in her ass and rub her clit. She'll cum hard within five minutes," Jungkook suggests, jerking his hips back before hitting the back of your throat again, all of the breath knocked out of you once again.

Yoongi spreads your cheeks further, spitting on the muscled rim before plunging his thumb inside. Your eyes seem to roll back at the feeling of having both holes filled, and it doesn't help when his fingers expertly pinch at your clit, toying with you as you continued to clench and clamp down on his dick.

"Shit, she's squeezing around me like a fucking vice," Yoongi hisses, rubbing you faster.

Jungkook chuckles in response, "She'll try to milk you for all you're worth. Cockslut is so greedy for cum- isn't that right?" He pulls out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting the head of his dick to your lips briefly before breaking off. He stops squeezing your throat, and you cough and sputter for air.

"Yes," you manage to gasp out, your voice raspy already. "I want to be filled up- please."

"Hear that?" Jungkook laughs mockingly. "She wants to be our personal cum dumpster. Pathetic, isn't it?"

"Careful what you wish for, baby," Yoongi responds, a harsh thrust that has you knocked over so far that your head bucks into Jungkook's abs, pressing against it firmly.

"Fuck, I'm cum-" You're unable to say much more, tears streaming down your face as Yoongi rubs your clit harder, and you're shaking. You feel yourself squirt all over the sheets, Yoongi's rapidly moving fingers now getting soaked in your cum as you thoroughly soaked them.

"Shit, I didn't know she was a squirter," Yoongi hisses, biting his lip as he sees you shake beneath him like a leaf.

Jungkook grins. "She does it a lot. She can't get enough. Don't worry, though, I'm sure we can make her do it again before the end of the night."

"Fuck yes. Such a messy girl," Yoongi smirks, stilling his fingers finally.

"Pull out, Yoongs. I think it's about time both of us take her," Jungkook suggests, licking his chapped lips.

Yoongi's thumb leaves your ass and he pulls out of you. You whine at the feeling of being empty, but Yoongi lays down, patting his thigh for you to hop back on. You're more eager than you'd care to admit, sinking down on him. He lays flat on the mattress, hissing as you sink back down onto him. He grabs your face once he bottoms out into you, and he brings your head down, crashing your lips against his in a passionate and heated kiss. He bucks his hips up into you at a steady pace, your tongues pressing together, your face kept in his grip, your chests pressed against each other in a sense of intimacy.

Based on your relationship with Yoongi so far, this was how you would've assumed your first time with him would've been. It would've been close, intimate. Probably not as wild and rough as Jungkook was, but not vanilla. You were it'd have the two of you rocking against each other, hips moving in a languid motion, staring into each other's eyes as corny as it seemed, with his arms caging you into an embrace that kept your chests pressed against each other.

It wasn't until you feel rough hands spread your cheeks apart that you're yanked back into the reality that your first time with Yoongi was far from what you originally thought it'd be. But you couldn't deny the fact that the experience was probably already ten times better.

Yoongi's hips slow their pace, stilling inside of you as Jungkook spits on the part where your and Yoongi's bodies connect. Your juices are still covering Yoongi's length, and dripping down your own thighs still. Jungkook's blunt head rubs against the slick surrounding your entrance, and soon enough he's pushing into you, inch by inch. You gasp, grasping onto Yoongi as he keeps you caged against his chest. You feel yourself stretch to accommodate Jungkook's length, and before you realize it his legs spread further as he mounts you, bottoming out.

"I told you this slut could take two cocks at once," Jungkook grunts, though his typically seductive voice is shaky. "Fuck, so tight. Your slutty pussy is just sucking me in, babygirl."

"Oh my God," Yoongi says, sweat dribbling down his temples, and it's clear that he is trying hard to concentrate and control himself. "Shit, fuck, it's..." He trails off, unable to properly describe what he's trying to say.

"Are you ok, babygirl?" Jungkook questions.

You nod, biting your lip, concentrating on the pleasurable stretch of having two cocks in your pussy at one time. "Move, please."

As though on cue, both men begin to buck their hips, their thrusts sloppy and restricted, though the stretch was pleasurable. The way they bucked into you had you moaning the entire time, and you absolutely loved the feeling of being filled. Slowly, though they didn't have much room for movements, both men were pumping themselves into you, and you tried to prevent yourself from clenching down on them with your vice-like grip.

"Mmf, such a good little slut for me," Yoongi groans, shoving his tongue down your throat as he grips your thighs, spreading them as far as they could go as he pumped himself into you.

Jungkook grunted in response, making you shake like a leaf as he presses his thumb against the puckered rim, slipping it in once again to add to the sensation. He slowly pumped it into you as he growled at Yoongi. "Funny you say that when she's got another man's cock in her pussy."

Yoongi rolled his eyes in response, delivering a brutal thrust into you. His hands stop gripping your thighs, managing to squirm between your two bodies, rubbing at your clit. "I'm close, baby, come on."

"Fuck," you say, the feeling of being so full practically unbelievable.

"Make sure all of her holes are filled," Jungkook retaliated as you clamped down on both of their cocks, Yoongi's friction against your clit causing you to squirm as they continued to thrust into you. Jungkook's free hand reached forward, thrusting four fingers into your mouth, some of the drool slipping down beside Yoongi's head and onto the bedsheets as you gagged around the thick digits. "A good cockslut puts every hole to good use."

"Fucking shit-" Yoongi said, his thrusts getting sloppier. "I'm gonna cum."

Your moan was suppressed, Jungkook's fingers devouring every little whimper as he continued to ram into you, but you couldn't miss the sensation of Yoongi flooding your pussy, the hot ropes of cum coating your walls, hitting deep where the head was buried deep into your womb, letting the cum cover both of the cocks that were bottomed out inside of you. Jungkook definitely seemed to be affected by the sensation as well, muttering curses and instinctively thrusting hard, his hip bones burying and bruising into your ass as he buried himself as deep as possible into your filled womb.

"Fuck, you filled her up so good. I can feel how much cum there is," Jungkook grunts, beginning to ram into you again, his movements unrestricted now and quick, Yoongi's cum acting as a sloppy form of lube as he was able to move even more freely inside of you. From the pace of Jungkook drilling into you, you could feel your juices and Yoongi's cum dribbling out of your entrance, dripping down your swollen lips, the hot liquid making you shiver at the sensation.

"Rub her clit, make her cum on our cocks," Jungkook growls, his voice low as he has to bite down onto your shoulder. You feel his dick twitch against Yoongi's softening one, and you know he's close. Yoongi picks back up the pace, his nimble fingers furiously rubbing against you to reawaken your high. You couldn't even count how much you had cum so far today, and you let out a silent scream, though it's concealed from Jungkook's fingers. You feel yourself spasm and shake, weak and numb as Jungkook rams into you senselessly. He grips your jaw tight, fingers flat against your tongue as he buries himself impossibly deep into you, at last, his dick against your cervix. You feel it twitch inside you before he erupts, cumming inside of you. You don't know if it's because of Yoongi's cum already being inside of you, but there's so much cum, you feel yourself overflowing.

Jungkook pants, pulling out of you, and Yoongi follows suit. You roll over on your back, chest heaving, cum already dripping out of you, the white drops of semen splattered along your folds, while a small stream of white cum drips down your cheeks to spill onto the sheets.

"You've stained my sheets, babygirl," Jungkook chuckled, dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. "I'm gonna have to clean up that slutty pussy of yours."

"Jungkook, I'm too sensitive," you protest, but Jungkook pays no heed, blowing cold air on your clit to make you shiver.

"You don't want to be a mess, do you? Someone's got to clean up our precious little cum dumpster," Jungkook mumbles before licking a stripe of cum from along your folds. You see the white liquid lay on his tongue before he swallows it, licking his lips afterward. You shuddered from the sensation, and Jungkook turns to Yoongi. "Hey Yoongs, want to help me clean her up?"

"Sure," Yoongi says, grabbing one of your legs to spread them apart, laying it flat against the mattress. Jungkook does the same, your glistening and sloppy cunt before them. Both of them turn to devour your heat, their heads buried between your legs. Yoongi focuses on your clit and folds, while Jungkook laps more so at your entrance, devouring the copious amount of cum you squeezed out as your walls convulsed and squirmed under Yoongi's ministrations against your throbbing clit. The engorged nub has endured so much abuse during this whole ordeal, and your tears haven't even dried yet, being repainted to stain your skin.

Jungkook's lips popped off of you with a lewd pop, and he plunges two fingers into your entrance, more of the cum and juices spilling out for him to eat. It isn't until he licks every drop that he finishes, and Yoongi puts an end to your torture.

Jungkook grins to you, seeing how wrecked you were. He grabs at your chin, and you're limp under his hold, having no further strength. "Look how wrecked she is," he cooed, glancing to Yoongi. "I think she's been properly fucked out, don't you?"

Yoongi licks his lips, sitting down next to you. He nips at your earlobe and hums in agreement. Jungkook holds your mouth open, spitting on your tongue before crashing his lips messily to yours. He pries his lips off of yours, and Yoongi tilts your chin so that you face him, and he does the same, crashing his lips against yours.

You're tired and aching, and the two men take mercy on you, chuckling to themselves as they call an end to your delicious torture.

The party is in full swing, and you're in a tight dress that Lisa had somehow squeezed you into. You were dancing with Xiyeon and Lisa- the latter celebrating the fact she had just gone on her second date with the now famous Jin, something you and Xiyeon were equally ecstatic about.

You didn't have a drink the whole night, but Lisa had been pounding shot after shot. Xiyeon was practically babysitting her at this point, having had only one beer so far.

You spot Hoseok in the corner of the room. He must've just gotten back from visiting his sister. He's staring in your direction. More specifically, Lisa's.

"I'm gonna get a drink!" You shout to the girls.

"Stay safe, baby!" Lisa crows, laughing hysterically.

You squeeze past the crowd, walking towards Hoseok. He doesn't notice that you're walking to him, his gaze focused still on Lisa. When Hoseok finally sees you, he seems startled.

"Please don't tell me that you're gonna lunge after me again," Hoseok begs, though his voice is laced with genuine fear.

You wave him off. "I'm over it. So is Lisa, for that matter. I'm not gonna lunge at you."

Hoseok sighed. "Yeah, heard a bit about that."

"Jealous?" you ask, quirking a brow. You were only curious.

He shakes his head. "I was her friend before I was her lover. I want her happiness first. If he gives her the happiness I failed to, then I'm content."

You're momentarily stunned at that moment. "That's really mature of you, Hobi."

Hoseok grins, placing his palm on the top of your head, ruffling your locks. "I can be at times. When I feel like it."

"Well, I'm gonna get a drink. See you later?" you ask. He gives you a nod, and you turn, only to bump into someone.

Dahyun spills a bit of her beer on the floor, and you curse, apologizing.

"Oh, fuck, I didn't mean to bump into you-" You begin.

"Wait- you're the girl from the date I had with Jungkook," Dahyun recalls.

You freeze. "Oh, uh, yeah. I am."

"God, that day was absolutely horrible," Dahyun mutters. "Which is absolutely ridiculous, considering the fact that after giving up on pursuing him, he asks me out, and then blows over the entire date!"

You furrow your brows. "What do you mean? Was the date bad?"

"Don't get me started," she says, rolling her eyes. "The entire film he's not even paying attention. He's all irritated and doesn't pay attention to me- and suddenly in the middle of it he gets up and leaves. Ten minutes later he's back and pissed and drives me home. I didn't even get to finish the movie. And I shaved my legs and everything."

You're stunned at that. "I'm sorry to hear that." Did Jungkook run after you and Yoongi when you bolted from the theater?

"Yeah. It's whatever, though, I suppose," Dahyun sighs.

"I should, um, go," you say, quickly leaving. Your mind is muddled, and you think to what she had just said. You scurry towards your two friends, Xiyeon dragging a rambunctious Lisa to the couch.

"What's up with you? Where'd you head?" Xiyeon questioned, glancing over your figure.

"Do you remember that girl I told you that Jungkook went on a date with? When I ran into him while I was with Yoongi?" you question, the words tumbling from your lips.

"Dasha?" Lisa asked.

"Dahyun," you corrected. "I just ran into her."

"Did you sock her in the nose?" Lisa burst out, bawling her hands into fists as she squinted, throwing a few sucker punches in the air playfully.

"Why would I do that?" you ask.

"You seemed to hate her a lot. Though that probably would've been because you were jealous of her," Xiyeon shrugged.

"Why would I be jealous of her going out with Jungkook?" you scoffed.

Xiyeon's eyes locked with yours. "Who said anything about Jungkook?"

She had you there. You feel yourself freeze, and Lisa cackles, pinching your cheek playfully. "C'mon, you can't deny it anymore, it's written on your face! You totally like Jeon- you're even blushing!"

"You are kind of obvious, Y/N," Xiyeon admits. "You get jealous of other girls over him, you're way more fond of him, you let yourself get a lot closer... You're just scared because it's the closest thing you've had to anything stable since your ex. The one you told me about who left?"

You gnaw your inner cheek. Did you really like Jungkook? Was what they were saying true? You thought back to how words stung when Jungkook said something, or how it'd flutter the next. You had such intense reactions to whatever he did, and somehow you always came running back for more.

There really was only one conclusion you could come to.

"Let's say I do like Jungkook," you test, refusing to meet their eye despite the way they grinned towards one another. "What would I even do? We're just having casual sex, this would ruin it. He doesn't even do relationships."

"C'mon, Jeon totally has it bad for you! If he'd make an exception for anyone, it'd most likely be you," Lisa gushed, squealing with excitement. "You've got to go for it!"

"It could ruin things," you say.

"I thought that too with Hobi. It gnawed at my insides. You don't want to carry that burden of keeping a secret. He'd deserve to know anyway, and it wouldn't be fair to him if you weren't honest. You have to try, otherwise you may regret not doing it sooner," Lisa said softly.

"She might be drunk, but she's right," Xiyeon nods. "Just look at what happened to Lisa. If you think you can endure that suffering, go ahead. But it might seem a bit hypocritical, seeing as how you reacted to her situation."

Xiyeon had a good point.

You let out a breath, making up your mind. "Ok. I'll do it."

Lisa's eyes lit up. "Really?!"

You nodded. "Someone get me a shot before I change my mind. I can't do this without a little alcohol in my system."

Xiyeon scurries away to get the shot, and Lisa throws her arms around you to pull you into a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you, Y/N," she says, lips trembling. "You're learning from my mistakes."

"Yeah," you say, nodding, praying to yourself you wouldn't become another Lisa. Xiyeon comes back, handing you a shot glass, which you down in one. It tastes like utter shit, and your lips sting, but it was most definitely worth it. You look around, trying to see if you could find the pink haired man anywhere.

"Over there!" Lisa points, Jungkook entering the room, beer in hand.

You feel so scared. You could feel your heart beating in your throat, the pounding in your ears. Your vision got blurry and your fingers were shaky, but you made a beeline towards him. Bravery wasn't marching towards something without an ounce of fear- it was going face to face with something you were deathly afraid of.

You didn't feel so brave, however, when you stepped before him.

"Hi," you manage to croak out, licking your lip, cursing at how off your voice sounds already.

Jungkook raises a brow, smiling to you. "Hey, Y/N- I was just looking for you. Would you like to... I dunno, hang out upstairs?"

You understand his proposal for hooking up but shake it away. "Actually, we need to talk."

Jungkook's face falls with one of concern, his mind flitting to worst case scenarios. "Uh oh. Is it bad?"

"No- well, depends- wait, I mean no," you clarify, jittery. "I'm not going to call off what we've got going on if that's what you're thinking."

Jungkook lets out a breath of relief. "Oh, thank God."

"Yeah..." you nervously chuckle. You feel a lump in your throat, and attempt to swallow it down. "The thing is, I need to tell you something."

"Go ahead. Shoot," Jungkook says nonchalantly.

You suck in a deep breath. You feel as though you're sweating from every pore in your body. Was the room spinning? It felt like it was spinning. You never felt this vulnerable or out of control in a long, long time.

"I'm just going to go right out and say it before I lose my nerve- Jeon, I like you. A lot. I know it's weird and it's not what we agreed on and it conflicts with everything but... it happened. And as much as I tried to push it down and ignore it and distract myself, I always found myself running back to you. Despite the fact that you can be cocky, or obnoxious, or unpredictable- you're so much more as well. You're considerate, passionate, complex- and I want each and every part of that. Of you. I think I've wanted that for a long time now."

Jungkook is still, soaking in your words. "Are you drunk?" he quietly asks.

Not the response you were looking for. You shake your head. "I only took one shot the entire night. I'm completely sober."

Jungkook sucks in a breath. "Ah, ok. I..."

You bite your lower lip nervously, gnawing at it. "You...?"

"I'm sorry."

You felt your blood run cold and you wanted nothing more than to turn back the hands of time.

"I think we should end this."

You feel your heart plummet to your stomach, and it's as though someone tied weights to your arms, dragging you down to the floor. A cloud hung over your head, and you were paralyzed and helpless, only staring him in the eye.

He avoided your gaze. "This... this can't continue. It won't work out. You and I could never work out. You and I... that's something we can never be. Friends maybe. It was nice being friends with you. But... I'm sorry."

There's a pause of silence between the two of you the air tense.

You feel tears brimming your eyes, and your vision is blurry. The last thing you want was for him to watch you cry. You manage to choke on your tears, trying to contain them, though your throat swells despite your efforts. "Yeah, sure. We can stay friends." Neither of you missed how your voice cracks.

Jungkook gives you a sympathetic look, reaching out for you. "Y/N-"

Your lips tremble. The way he says your name- without a tone of teasing or familiarity- instead it sounds as though it's clipped like he was calling out for a stranger. "I should go." Your rush words are curt and broken, strained as you tried to choke them out clearly enough for him to even be able to decipher what you were trying to push out.

His fingers grip onto your shoulder, and you both tense. You freeze, eyes glassy as you look back to him, slowly gripping onto his fingers, knowing it could very well be the last time you did so. Your hand trembles as you slowly push his hand away, and he gulps, staring at the movement until it slips off. He lets it hang loose, danging by his side.

He doesn't know what to say, you know that. But at the same time, he's said all he needs to. You got the message- and there was no way for you to misinterpret it.

"I'm so sorry," he says one last time, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don't respond, moving away as quickly as you could. Tears slipped down your cheeks, and there is no doubt in your mind that there are black streaks on your face from your mascara. You quickly swipe them away, knowing full and well there would be gawking. Seeing you cry of all people. Some would probably pat Jungkook on the back for finally breaking the Ice Queen.

You thought back to everything that had happened between the two of you, memories swimming in your head. How he kissed you tenderly when he saw you arriving to help him with the coolers, to how he made a point to sit next to you to whisper jokes under his breath, only for you to roll your eyes. How he slept next to you, only keeping you company and comforting you when you ran into the two people who contributed the most to who you were today. To how he softly asked if you would go public with him, to how he ran after you when you ditched the movie. You could still feel his arms cradling you when you were sobbing in the cafe, having told Taehyung to leave, and Jungkook asking no questions to simply hold your shaking form. More tears slipped down your cheeks when you remembered being in the bathtub with him, his words cheeky and annoying as always. How he introduced you to his parents, believing you were so different- the good different. When he joked with your niece and gave you a ticket to- God, it was too much. You couldn't handle it. You misread all of it- and you were the one left to be the fool from how you misinterpreted every little gesture to mean something far more.

But you were wrong. Jungkook didn't like you. He never would. And maybe it was because he didn't date- but that didn't line up. He went on a date with Dahyun, didn't he? What did she have that you didn't?

Maybe that was it.

There was something wrong with you. It made sense- especially looking back on your history with Taehyung.

Jungkook saw the same thing Taehyung did.

You weren't good enough.

You bolt to your friends as quickly as you could, their blurred forms clearing once the tears fell down your cheeks. They don't see how wrecked you are yet, naturally assuming that it went fine. Lisa grinned. "How'd it go-"

You slam into her and Xiyeon, wrapping your arms around them so they'd support you, sobbing into their shoulders. They knew within a second exactly what had happened, and their expressions fell as quickly as yours.

Lisa pried your arms off of her, wrenching them aside. Her glazed eyes showed fury, and she was seething. "How dare he make you cry!"

Xiyeon looks to her with worry and concern. "Lisa, don't-"

It was too late, Lisa marching out into the crowd you and Xiyeon followed in horror as you struggled to keep up, squeezing through the crowd to walk in on Lisa chewing Jungkook out.

"-you don't deserve her anyway. Aha too good for you, yet you broke her heart. Why did you lead her on, huh? Why'd you pretend you liked her? So jealous and possessive, ignoring your own dates for her, acting sweet or introducing her to your parents? You can't even sort out your own shit, Jeon. How fucking-"

"Lisa!" Xiyeon snapped, reaching forward to yank on the girl's ear. Lisa was dragged away quickly, though she tried to pry herself from Xiyeon's right grip to yell at Jungkook some more. You know you should go along with them to go home, perhaps give yourself a good cry until you were able to fall asleep. Instead, you were numb, staring at Jungkook, your cheeks wet and your lips trembling.

"I'll leave you alone now," you said quietly, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. I guess I never will be."

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something, but you were already gone.

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niallismymuse · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1

Niall Horan pops his earpiece out of his ear and allows the roar of the stadium to filter in. He basks in it, grinning widely out at the light-studded crowd. If possible, the chanting and cheering grows louder as his bandmates join him center stage, everyone wrapping an arm around each other’s shoulders. It’s a rush. His adrenaline is soaring; his blood is pumping.

They didn’t cheer quite this loudly when his opener had taken her last bow of the night. Niall isn’t an egotistical man, not entirely, but he tucks that fact away with quiet pride. It could be due to any combination of factors: this is the end of the show and that wasn’t, the song he ended with was a fan favorite, and so on and so forth. But Niall likes to think it’s because, onstage now, it’s just him and his bandmates, and everything they created together.

Arms tightly wound over Louis and Jake’s shoulders, Niall bows deeply before spinning away and grabbing the little bag of guitar picks kept behind the drum set. His mates join him, and they spend a few seconds tossing picks out to the audience. A small frenzy occurs at every site the picks drop at.

Stepping forward, Niall grabs ahold of the microphone tightly for the last time. “I’ll be back soon,” he vows, heart thundering in his chest, “Thank you all for being such supportive fans. The next album will be greater than ever. Drive home safely!”

With one last wave, he departs the stage, practically jogging off. With that, his third solo world tour is done. Tara Cassandro, his personal assistant, joins his side instantly, her smile contagious. “We did it!” She cheers, giddily clapping her hands. It’s been a long tour for all of them – it’s exciting to have completed something so immense. He laughs, but it’s as those words hit him that his mind realizes the truth: he’s done for now. He can go home.

To his wife.

The breath rushes out of Niall’s chest and he stops suddenly and wraps his arms tightly around Tara. She is giddy with excitement; this tour has been his, and therefore everyone’s, best one yet, pulling fans out to shows in droves. She pats his back and pulls away slightly, looking up at him. She’s known, as well as his bandmates, how long he’s been waiting for this day to come. Because while Niall loves going on tour and singing and the whole experience, he loves Ellie more.

“Go home, Niall.” Tara smiles, eyes shining. Normally she would give him shit for it, but he thinks she’s just as thrilled at the idea of getting off the road as he is.

So, he does. He goes home.

Niall’s third and most successful world tour came to a close in West Palm Beach, Florida, the same place his Flicker World Tour had ended. It’s a parallel he pointed out to the crowd, though he’s sure a majority of his fans that attended the Flicker Tour came to this one too.

After grabbing a water, Niall settles into the wide and spacious tour bus, chuckling quietly purely because he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. Now they’ll drive south to Miami and everyone will take flights home from there. This trail of motion has been planned for months, and now he’s finally seeing it through to home.

The airport is a blur, and suddenly Niall is sitting comfortably in a private jet that had arrived. It’s a far cry over the public flights he’s taken. The private jet is a necessity as well as a luxury, though; he is far too well-known to fly publicly. The last time he had tried, he’d been harassed enough that his agent told him never again.

Niall doesn’t mind. He can afford this, well over.

He jokes and laughs with Louis, who’s heading to London too for a bit, as much as he can, trying to make the eight hours plus flow by as quickly as possible. Niall’s anxious to arrive home. Anxious to sit and sleep and existwithout a schedule determining his every movement. The label will be chomping at the bits to get a new album from him, but he’s going to tell them no; just for a little while anyway. He needs to relax. He’s earned it.

He wants to settle down. But while he and Ellie had talked about it a few times before their wedding, they haven’t done so recently. Niall has no idea how she feels about expanding their current family of two.

The flight speeds onward towards London, and in what seems like no time at all, is slowing on the tarmac. It’s hours later, and Niall is blinking sleep from his eyes, but he’s instantly alert, sitting upright in his seat. Louis smirks over at him knowingly. Niall responds with a particularly offensive gesture, sticking his tongue out defiantly.

Niall wonders, briefly, what Ellie will make of the fact that his private and expensive plane is being used for only two people. He’ll gladly take the mild mocking, though, just to see her. He’s already anticipating the teasing, and the teasing he’ll do in return.

He presses his lips together and shifts in his seat, decidedly thinking about boring things like taxes and coffee pots instead. He might be a little too sensitive currently.

As the aircraft taxies off of the runway, Niall stretches his legs out and grunts as he unsnaps his seatbelt. He sits until the plane rolls to a smooth stop, and then he peers out of the window as the crew readies to let him and Louis out.

Perhaps forty feet away, there is a black Range Rover parked on the asphalt. The windows are too dark for him to see inside, and the car is too far away at any rate, but Niall’s heart beat picks up in speed. That’s definitely for him – he can’t go through the airport without getting bombarded, so the airport lets a vehicle come to get him. He lurches to his feet quickly and takes the suitcases the flight attendant passes him. “Thank you, Nancy,” he murmurs as she does the same for Louis, and then the stairs are down and he’s charging down the steep steps with no regard for his safety. If he breaks an ankle, she’s worth it.

Niall starts running towards the Range Rover, yanking the suitcase along behind him. The front passenger’s door flies open, and then a small figure is darting towards him with the ferocity of a lion.

Her face becomes clearer the closer they get to each other, until fuck it, he’s ditching his suitcase on the tarmac because it’s causing drag, and then they’re careening into each other, colliding in an entanglement of arms and legs and faces immediately smooshing together for the briefest of seconds.

Niall puts his hands on her waist, and he’s home. He’s safe. He picks her up and twirls her around, listening as her muffled laughs turn into quiet sobs, and then he’s holding her tight in his arms again. Elise presses her face into his neck, and Niall can feel her lips trembling against his skin, and the wet streaks she leaves behind. Her arms encircle his neck, clinging tightly.

Gently, reverently, Niall places his finger under her chin and lifts her face up. Ellie allows it, a smile curving her full lips upwards until she’s grinning toothily at him, even as tears flow steadily down her cheeks.

Taking his time, he leans down and presses his lips to hers and man, he had thought just touching her was home. That was just the foyer, the entranceway – this is where he belongs. With Ellie, his hand curving over her waist and her fingers tightening in his hair. He almost moans from the simple touch, but there’s plenty of time for that later.

There’s a soft sigh from behind them. “Guess I’ll grab your bag for ya, then,” Louis mutters mostly to himself as he stalks back towards the plane to grab Niall’s abandoned suitcase.

It’s as he’s walking towards the dormitories at Harlaxton College that Niall spots her. Just picks her out of the crowd – lucky, random. He could have been anywhere else, yet by some stroke of fortune, he’s here, and she’s walking by.

She’s with two friends, her arms linked through theirs. They’re giggling, and it is music to his ears in the best way possible. Niall, for a mere nanosecond, considers dropping out of One Direction and applying to go to classes here, just to get the chance to be around her. Second studio album be damned.

Niall watches – while trying not tolook like he’s watching – as she enters the moving crowd of students rushing to and fro. The second before she disappears, she looks back and her brown eyes catch his. The eye contact lasts for a heartbeat, and then she’s swept away by her friends.

A heartbeat.

That was all it took. Niall knows, in that instant, that he’s a goner. His cheeks flush, and the tips of his ears feel red-hot.

Niall kicks at a stone petulantly and shoves his hands inside his pockets, then continues heading slowly towards the dormitories again to visit his friend. His younger friend from Ireland, who had gotten into this college an hour north of London, who Niall had travelled all this way to see. Thomas.

Thomas is suddenly feeling like a lot less of a priority.

Ellie is wearing a soft lilac jumper, and she won’t let go of his hand. These two facts are running continuously through his mind at lightning speed.

It’s silly, but he’s marveling at the feel of her hand in his, in feeling her fingers intertwine with his. She’s listening as Louis babbles about something in the front seat because she’s nice, as if giving him a ride wasn’t nice enough, and there’s a gentle smile curving her lips upwards. Her smile widens as her eyes meet his, but she says nothing, just strokes her thumb along the back of his hand.

It hasn’t been that long since they’ve been together, over a month, but damn, it’s felt like a lifetime. He can’t stop touching her.

Louis takes a break from chatting to breathe, and Ellie leans closer to Niall. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and smiles as she nestles closer. Contentment like nothing he’s ever known settles into his stomach.

I love you, I love you, I love you, he thinks.

“So,” Ellie starts, tilting her head back to catch his gaze, “I might have purchased a little something.”

Niall leans down and pecks her lips, unable to help himself. “What did you buy, love?”

She smiles and kisses his cheek, like she’s feeling the same urge as he is, to keep their skin and lips together as much as possible. “Well, I bought two tickets for a vacation.”

Niall lifts his eyebrow up and tries to fight the urge to groan. He wants to lay down and not move for weeks. He doesn’t want to leave their house unless absolutely necessary. He licks his lips, trying to think of how to properly voice his complaint. “Well, babe…I just got home…”

Elise looks amused, smirking slightly. “I know. We’re not going anywhere for a while. We have four weeks, and then we’re going to Hawaii.”

He’s instantly pleased, though there’s a small part of him left wondering. Normally they plan all of their trips together, hammering out the details until they’re both satisfied with where they’re going and what they’re going to be doing. Instead, she did it all herself. Niall’s not upset, exactly, because he loves Hawaii, but something tightens in his chest nonetheless.

“Alright, that sounds great,” he smiles, trying not to look confused. “That gives me plenty of time to nap.”

Ellie merely laughs at his comment and leans in when Niall kisses her forehead, not bothering to offer up any explanation for why Hawaii, and why now.

Thomas leaves early in the morning for class, while Niall sleeps in and then spends an unimportant amount of time styling his hair into its now-usual blond quiff. Once he’s satisfied with it, he grins at his reflection in the mirror, making a few ‘sexy’ faces before laughing to himself.

He’s worked hard to be content with how he looks. It’s difficult now that he’s a star in a moderately popular boyband. Everyone has something to say. It’s overwhelming, but Niall does his best to stay positive.

He’s been trying to keep Mystery-Girl out of his head, but she keeps popping back to the forefront. Her eyes, in particular. Niall remembers the shock that went through him when they made eye contact…something he had never felt before in his twenty years of life.

But this is a college campus with thousands of students, so he’s likely to never see her again. He pushes Mystery-Girl to the back of his mind and leaves the dorm, his stomach grumbling.

Thomas had told him earlier where the dining hall was, but as Niall walks out of the dormitory, he realizes that he’ll have more difficulty finding it than he thought. He stands there on the sidewalk, gazing around at the different buildings, twiddling his thumbs in his pockets. He has no idea where anything is. Breakfast is going to take longer than he thought.

He’s turning to go back inside the dorm – maybe there’s a map in there of the campus, or some signs – when someone’s shoulder slams into his, and he goes stumbling down the steps of the building, somehow catching himself before he ends up flat on his arse.

“Oh my gosh!” Someone cries, immediately reaching out to steady him. Niall blinks in confusion and then finds that Mystery-Girl, of all people, is staring at him, eyes wide with concern. Her hands flutter nervously as she takes a step closer. “Are…are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry. I just wasn’t watching where I was going, you know, there’s hardly anyone ever just standing in front of the doors, because we all have so many places to go. Oh! Not that I’m blaming you, I just…” Cutting herself off, Mystery-Girl presses her lips together hastily.

The first thing he’s realized is that she’s American, which is oddly endearing, though Niall’s not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s just that she’sendearing. She’s a total babbler, which makes him want to grin, though he hides it now.

Then he realizes that he’s been staring at her without saying anything for a solid thirty seconds, and he splutters. “Uh! Sorry, sorry, don’t worry, everything’s good,” Niall says quickly, and straightens, running his fingers through his quiff. “Where were you going in such a hurry?”

She blinks at him. “Um. The dining hall. I have some friends waiting for me, and I slept in late.”

Niall marvels at his good fortune. Whatever he did in a past life has really worked for him. “How funny, I was actually just thinking about how I didn’t know how to get to there when you ran into me.”

Her eyes spark. “Really? Well, how about I show you the way?”

“That would be great,” he says honestly, and, on cue, his stomach growls loudly.

She laughs, and Niall tries not to die of embarrassment. He wants to melt into the pavement, though her laughter isn’t mean, just good-natured. “It’s a good thing I bumped into you now rather than later, then,” she says teasingly, “you might have starved to death.”

Niall chuckles and rubs at the back of his neck, ignoring how hot his face feels. “My name is Niall, what’s yours?” he asks as he holds his hand out, hope beginning to kindle in his chest.

She smiles, taking his hand rather daintily. Her fingers are small, he notices as they shake hands.

“My name is Elise.”

The past three weeks have been pure and utter bliss. Niall has never felt so relaxed in his entire life. He’s hardly left the house, he’s mostly eaten takeout, he’s been binging recordings of the games he’s missed throughout the tour despite already knowing a majority of their outcomes, and his bedroom life...well. Besides the very active sex, he’s basically become sedentary.

The only downside is that Elise has been going to work every day. She has to, in order to leave for their week-and-a-half vacation. Unlike him, she has a set vacation amount, besides the days she automatically gets off for holidays.

Ellie works with a company designed to help non-profits and other start-ups build from the ground up. She meets with the founders and helps with the organizational needs and puts them into contact with others inside and outside of her office that could potentially assist with other issues. She’s a hardworking businesswoman, and Niall is so damn proud.

He privately thinks that she doesn’t need to be so hardworking, but she has already told him how this career gives her a purpose, especially when she’s lonely when he’s away. So, he doesn’t complain, even now as she strides purposefully past him to the doorway, where she had left her heels last night.

Niall sighs despairingly as he watches her, pouting out his bottom lip. “Are you about to head in for work?”

Ellie shakes her head, leaning against the wall to slip the heels on and keep her balance. “I have my yearly at the gynecologist.”

Something nags at the back of his mind, a thought not quite in reach. “Is that where Pete…smears you?”

Ellie throws a pained smile his way as she thumbs the nude heel in her hands. “It’s called a pap smear, babe.”

“Well, whatever it is, they should find it easy. I loosened you up for them.”

The shoe that flies by narrowly misses his face, and he gasps, even as he registers that it was thrown with no real force and she probably missed on purpose. “Ellie!”

She wags a finger at Niall, face beet-red. “Never say those words ever again.”

He bursts into a cackle, doubling over at the sight of her face. She pauses a moment, and then stomps over to grab her shoe, though he can tell she’s just being dramatic. Indeed, when she peeks at him, a half-smile is pulling her lips up. That sets his laughter off anew, and this time she joins him, walking over to peck his lips and perch on his lap.

“That was terribly crass of you,” Ellie informs him, her breathing slightly heavy as she leans in to him a little closer. Niall reaches up and places his hands on her hips, squeezing her softness gently. Her eyes have already darkened.

This – this insatiable need for her, all the time. It drives him absolutely nuts. He can remember so clearly waking up aching for her and being thousands of miles away. Not even aching just for sex – for after, too, when they laugh and kiss and love. He needs her, like a fire needs oxygen to burn. Except he thinks that too much of Ellie won’t smother him. Too much of Ellie isn’t a real problem he’ll ever have.

Niall leans in and brushes his lips against her pulse point in her neck, feels her breathing hitch. He tries not to smile. “What time is your appointment at, love?”

Ellie stutters out, “U-uh, 10:30.”

Niall leans back against the couch. “Well, you better get going then.”

She gapes at him. “What do you mean, ‘get going’?”

He holds it for a second before breaking out into a toothy grin. “I’m kidding! We have time for a quickie,” he mumbles and leans in to capture her lips in a kiss. It lasts a few seconds before Ellie adjusts herself on his lap, hiking her black pencil skirt up.

“Let’s get this show on the road then, baby.”

After a very satisfying bout of morning sex right there on the couch that will definitely make Elise late to her appointment, Niall walks her to the door and pats her bum on the way out. She gives him the finger and a scolding look which makes him laugh, watching as she strides to the car and gets inside. Ellie waves after turning it on and buckling up, then pulls the car through their circular driveway and disappears into the gray sky beyond the open gate.

Niall’s still staring as it closes, blocking the view of the rest of the neighborhood. That thought from earlier is coming back, jostling memories that are only half-there.

He walks back inside the house after closing the front door behind him, and it hits him as he stands there in the foyer. It’s April now, but hadn’t Ellie gone to her yearly back in October? Niall scratches at his head, trying to think and remember. She had complained about it over FaceTime…or had that been a dentist appointment? Perhaps a visit to their family doctor?

Niall mulls it over, but his memory from around that time is shaky. He genuinely can’t remember, which means that he’s most likely overthinking it. Most likely.

Is it even okay to have sex right before a gynecologist appointment? He screws up his nose, deciding not to even really think about that…will they be able to tell?

Not everything has been right since he came home. Niall has noticed differences from when he had last fully lived here in London with his wife. Her cheekbones are more pronounced, and she’s lost weight. She looks more tired, and often tosses and turns for most of the night. He’s pretty sure that she vomited the other day, but she wouldn’t admit it to him.

Niall shakes his head, trying to knock the thoughts out of it. It doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t lie to him. They love each other dearly, after all. And she had vowed to him almost three years ago that they were forever during their wedding. She had cried while speaking, nearly smiling too much to even say the words.

It’s probably stress from work. Yes, just stress, or maybe she’s coming down with the flu. Niall lets out a shaky breath and then continues into the kitchen, turning on the hot water in the sink to wash last night’s dishes.

He doesn’t notice how hot the water is until he scalds his fingers under its blistering stream.

Ellie arrives home a few hours later, neatly slipping her heels off by the door and padding inside with them tucked under her arm. “I’m home!” She calls brightly into the house, and Niall quickly goes to her, pressing a quick peck to her lips.

“How was the appointment?” He asks, watching her reaction carefully.

Her nose scrunches up. “Ugh. Uncomfortable. I hate those things. But then it was over, and I stopped by work for a little while, and now I’m here. Did you know I actually cried a little the first time I had a pap smear done? It sucked.”

There are several things Niall knows about his wife: her favorite color is blue, she’s silly, she has questionable music taste, and she’s a terrible liar. He had watched her face the entire time she spoke, searching for any one of those ticks that showed she was lying, and he saw nothing. Instantly he relaxes and encircles her waist with his arms. “Being a woman must be hard.”

Ellie giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then laying her head on his shoulder. “It’s the worst.”

“Your favorite band is Panic! at the Disco?” Niall can’t keep the scoff out of his voice, but he fights the grin threatening to split his cheeks at the fire in her eyes. She had mentioned a moment ago that they had an album coming out soon, right before telling him this…interesting information.

Ellie glares at him. “Yes, they are. Have you not heard songs like ‘Sarah Smiles’ and ‘Nine in the Afternoon’?” Seated across from him outside at a cafe, a rare London sunshine breaking across her shoulders, she reaches down and grabs her bagel, taking almost an angry bite out of it. She looks like an angel, not that he’s about to tell her.

They’ve been friends for a little while now, and he’s slowly learning facts about her. They’re like little precious stones coming from a treasure chest and he’s eager to collect more. Ellie is 18 years old. She’s from California, and she was accepted into a program that allowed her to start college early while she was in her senior year of high school. This allowed her to gather information on studying abroad, and here she is. While in England, she’s researching how nonprofits are run, and plans on comparing them to ones in the United States for some sort of research of efficiency. Ellie is, quite simply, brilliant.

“I have,” Niall admits, “and they’re not bad songs.” In fact, ‘Sarah Smiles’ is a secret favorite of his, only because he’s a hopeless romantic. He’s always wanted to write a song for his girl. Maybe someday he’ll write one for the girl across from him, even though she’s definitely not his. He can dream, though. “But I don’t think that’s a band worthy of being your favorite.”

She wrinkles her nose up at him. “Tell that to thousands of other sinners.” Niall chokes on a laugh at the fanbase name, because the girl across from his is anything but a sinner, it seems, and Ellie sticks her tongue out at him. “You’re just jealous that you’re not my favorite band.”

Niall almost agrees but cuts himself off before he even starts. He’s not a band – he’s 1/5 of a band. It’s not his band. It’s Liam, Harry, Zayn, Louis and his band. “No, I’m not jealous of that,” he responds quietly, then quickly changes the subject, “how are you liking London?”

After talking for a few weeks after they originally met, Ellie had told him that she was coming to London for the weekend. She wanted to see the great city, as she had referred to it. Niall, like the gentleman that he was, had offered to give her a tour.

“I love it here,” she smiles a little sadly. “I can’t believe I might ever go home after this.”

Because this isn’t her home. Niall tries not to think about it too much, that she’ll be leaving here to go home in a few weeks’ time. “Well, Ellie,” he smirks as she rolls her eyes at the pet name he had almost immediately given her, “don’t go home then. Make this your home.”

Her eyes spark at the challenge. “Maybe I will.”

They decide to go out for dinner the night before their flight to Hawaii, something they haven’t done in months. The past few weeks Niall has been ordering from his favorite takeout places for dinner and eating the leftovers for breakfast when there’s been some. He hasn’t taken his wife out yet, which Niall thinks makes him a bit of a dick, so he asks, and she says yes readily.

Ellie steps out of the bedroom in a red number that has him grinning. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Like you always do.”

She grins in a pleased way and flushes at his compliment. “Mmm, thank you baby. Are you ready to go?”

Niall nods his head and makes sure he has his wallet and keys, and then takes Ellie’s arm and leads her outside to the car. It’s chilly out, so he hurries them both to the car. It’s warmer inside, something they both relish in, smiling at each other. He starts the car and heads out.

The traffic takes some time to get through, but they have reservations – he is, after all, Niall Horan – so once they’re at the restaurant, everything proceeds smoothly.

It’s as he’s looking through the beers that they serve that he brings it up. “So,” Niall starts, eyes lingering on the middle section of the page. He’s not really reading. It just gives him something to look at instead of her, because he’s trying to be casual, not accusing. “There’s a Panic! concert tonight. You didn’t say anything about it, love…I bet I could still get us in, though.”

Then he does look up, to see Ellie taking a quick sip of the water that was served earlier. “I know,” she says with a tinge of regret, a frown turning the corners of her lips down. “I didn’t see the tour dates until after I had set everything up for Hawaii. I don’t want us to be exhausted tomorrow.”

This is weird. Niall occasionally thinks that Ellie would die for Brendon Urie. She’s never missed a concert here in London, and he doesn’t think she missed one when she lived in California. She sat in the best seats she could afford back then – and consequently, the shittiest – and had the time of her life. It’s not like her to miss one.

He’s gone with her to every concert they’ve had here since she moved to London permanently. Niall can say genuinely that he respects the band and admires Brendon’s vocals, though the music still isn’t his style. That’s how often he’s seen Panic! At the Disco live. Enough to break down his initial reservations towards them.

Privately, Niall has been considering trying to pull some strings within the industry to get Ellie to meet her all-time favorite band (or, really, Brendon at this point). Maybe for her birthday.

Ellie sets her water glass down, looking almost shyly at him across the table. “Besides, I know you don’t care for them much,” she adds, biting her lip. “And I would rather spend this time with you, completely.” She smirks then. “Not with you and my other boyfriend.”

Niall scoffs and tosses a butter packet at her from the bread basket in the center of the table. She dodges it, laughing. Her laugh is infectious, so then they’re both laughing with each other over it. “You wanker,” she teases, speaking the term in a mock-British accent.

He smirks. “I love it when you talk British to me.”

She throws the butter package back at him.

The next day, they’re up with the watery London sun. Niall doesn’t complain about it – it’s not like he’s never gotten up early before – and besides, there’s plenty of time to sleep on the plane. Ellie is quiet too, looking oddly somber in the pale light of dawn.

“You look like you’re getting ready for a funeral, not a dream vacation,” he tells her, and her lips twitch.

She pauses in the middle of pulling on a jumper, eyes catching his. “Sorry, I just had a weird dream,” Ellie replies, forcing a smile. He reaches over and brushes his thumb across her lips, making it into a real one.

“Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head. “Can’t remember much of it. It just left me feeling weird.”

They eat a quick breakfast consisting of some oatmeal and Ellie’s leftovers from the night before. She had taken most of her dinner home with her, but Niall isn’t complaining now as he eats cold prime rib out of a takeout container. Ellie steals a bite here and there, but mostly lets him finish it off. She sticks with the oatmeal, adding brown sugar and some dark chocolate chips to it.

The drive to the airport is quiet. The kind of quiet that comes with being up early in the morning when you’re not used to it. It’s a contemplative kind of quiet; Niall’s eyes are sticking slightly when he blinks, which is a problem since he’s the one driving.

They arrive without incident and get on the plane that Ellie had had set up for this trip. It’s a private one – he doesn’t own a plane, after all, just occasionally uses one when needed. What would he do with his own private plane? – like usual. It’s just the two of them and the flight crew. Their luggage is stowed away, and then Niall is sitting next to his wife in a wide, comfortable chair that leans back almost completely. He’s asleep before they’re in the air.

Hours later, he wakes up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. There’s light streaming in from the circular window, and when he leans closer to look out of one, he can see that the gray Atlantic Ocean is far below. This flight is almost a day long, so Niall settles back to relax. He glances over at Ellie, in the seat next to him, only to see that her eyes are closed, and her earplugs are in. She’s not asleep though; her lips are mouthing along, only half-forming the words of the song.

“What are you listening to?” Niall asks, watching her eyes flutter open. He already knows by the blissed-out look on her face. He just wants to hear her say it. There’s a feeling growing in his chest, a warmth that makes him want to soar. It’s love. God, he loves her so much. He’s so lucky. Now that he’s gotten used to the idea, he can’t wait to arrive at Hawaii and spend time with her in the sunshine. He can’t wait to swim with her in the crystal-clear oceans, or hike in the lush greenery. This might be the best vacation of their lives – besides their honeymoon, of course.

“You know,” Ellie answers, smiling a soft, secret smile only he gets to see. Her eyes are shining. “The song you wrote me. As a wedding gift.”

“’Elise’,” he replies, naming the song, the gift he had written for her for their wedding. It’s a song very few people know about. He wrote it in secret, and never turned it over for an album. And then Niall had sung it for her after their wedding, just the two of them and a piano. He officially recorded it when they got home from Paris, and she’s kept the recording close ever since.

She nods, still smiling, before leaning closer to him and kissing his cheek. She tucks her head into his shoulder, falling back into the song.

Niall merely looks down at her and presses his lips to her forehead.

He’s so lucky.

“I applied to attend in the spring, and I was accepted.”

Niall turns quickly to face Ellie, spinning abruptly on his heel, nearly falling over. The wind is ripping currently, tearing at his clothes like greedy hands. Ellie is clad in a pink jumper and jeans, trying to stay warm in the cool temperature.

“What?” he breathes out, hope beginning to flutter in his chest. Ellie’s looking at him, face alight with glee. Her pink lips are pressed together in a small smile, though he can see that she’s struggling to contain herself. “Say that again.”

She takes a single step closer. “I applied to Harlaxton College for the spring semester, and they accepted. I applied a month or so again, but I kept quiet, because I wasn’t sure I would get in.”

Niall rushes closer and throws his arms around her, squeezing her tightly. “You’re brilliant,” he laughs, “absolutely brilliant.”

Ellie hugs him back tightly, and that odd feeling in his stomach comes back. It’s something he’s been feeling more and more around her – the weird feeling in his stomach, the shyness, the need to never let her go. He’s been violently repressing it, because he never imagined that anything would ever work out between them, much less that she would ever like him back.

Niall still doesn’t know if she likes him back, but this…this is a step in the right direction.

He releases her and takes a step back, nervously scratching at the back of his head. Ellie is still smiling, folding her hands together in front of her. “I know.”

“So, you’re coming back then.” Niall states, like it’s easy, because she was accepted. Obviously, this is the next course of action.

His words make her deflate, and suddenly there’s panic in her eyes. “I…I have so much to do. I have to…actually take my classes, and then transfer all of my credits…I have to find somewhere to live. I need money. I need…a visa again, and…my parents, good god, my parents…” Ellie swallows hard. Her hands are trembling, even locked together as they are.

Niall reaches out and grabs her hands, because it’s the first thing that came to his mind to do. “I’ll help you, Ellie,” he says steadily. “I’ll help you as much as I can.” Then he cracks a grin at her. “The parent thing…not sure how much I can help with that.”

She laughs, albeit shakily. “They won’t be happy…they won’t want me to leave. They hardly wanted me to come here. But they’ll have to get over it. London may not be the city that raised me, but it’s the city that has my heart.”

Niall smiles, because that’s something he understands. Mullingar was home, and it still is in some ways – the ways that you always recognize your hometown – but London is the place he calls home now. He can’t imagine not living here in the hustle and bustle, in the cloudy and weepy skies. It’s not for everyone, but it is for him.

And for Ellie.

“I’ll help you,” he swears. He’s still holding her hands, something they realize at the same time. Neither let’s go.

A mere week later, they say their goodbyes at the airport. Niall stays there until her plane is in the sky, flying off to the other side of the world, taking Ellie with it. He’s missing her already, and he still has months to go before seeing her again. Not only that, he has a world tour starting in February that concludes in November. This time next year, he’ll be touring nonstop. He’ll hardly get to see her, much less help her with settling in. She won’t be in London, either – Harlaxton College is an hour away, which isn’t much, but it’s enough to make things slightly harder.

But that’s a problem for future Niall. For now, he has press to do, and a label to please.

The plane disappears in the sky, and Niall leaves after staring momentarily into the empty space where it used to be. He has work to do.

taglist: @reality-whoneedsit @niall-is-my-dream @fireawaynjh @exoticniall @youvegotyourvictory @loulouloueh @stylishmuser @niallersdirtylaundry

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#niall horan #Niall Horan fanfiction #niall fanfiction #Niall Horan fic #niall fic #Niall Horan smut #niall smut #one direction #1dff #one direction fanfiction #Niall Horan imagine #ahhhh here it is #late #but here!

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rosegardentwilight · 5 years

Text

Don’t Miss a Beat

Summary: Marinette didn’t know what Alya said to convince her to join greek life. But here she was about to be called up as part of her initiation and karaoke in front of all these strangers- the only comfort was an alcoholic drink for courage and the stimulating conversation with a blond guy in a black cat hoodie.

A.n.- The second I got this as my summer santa, I went to work and I really like how this turned out. Hope you enjoy it!

Thank you to Whim, who betaed this! You are amazing!

Pairing: Ladynoir

This was crazy. Marinette didn’t know what she was doing here, dressed ridiculously about to get on a stage and sing in front of a bunch of people. The blame belonged solely to Alya, who dragged her along for moral support, but now it was growing on her. Marinette had to admit some parts of Greek life were fun, and she had met some great friends. After this week, all of these ridiculous hazing tasks, she would be welcomed into the sorority with open arms. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to barge into a cafe and recite her ABC's, or grab a random guy at 10 pm to and bring him as a date.

She walked into the bar, at least by the sound of it; she wasn’t the only one making a fool of herself. The girl on the stage was singing an off-key rendition of Dancing Queen. Marinette grabbed an open table towards the middle of the bar while Alya headed straight for the bar to buy them drinks.

“Nervous?” Marinette turned her head to see a college-aged blonde holding two drinks in his hands and a smile that stretched for days. “Do you need some liquid courage?”

“My friend is getting me some.” Although cute, Marinette didn’t make a habit of taking drinks from strangers.

“The redhead at the bar? This is from her; she asked me to deliver this for her.”

Marinette’s eyes wandered past him in time to see her best friend flirting with a guy at the counter. Even with the distance, she could see the blatant motions for her to make a move on the guy standing there.

“Thanks.” Rules were made to bend sometimes, and she did need the help. With one motion, Marinette downed the drink.

“So your sorority decided to use animals as part of their torture?”

Marinette winced, she thought the makeup was a bit over the top, but her future sister applied it, and she was hardly in a place to protest.

“I can say the same about you,” she shot back playfully, glancing at his black hoodie sporting cat ears.

“Guilty as charged,” he grinned, taking a seat across from her, “So, are you a fan of Ladybugs then?”

“Oh.” Her skin flushed with heat, but thankfully part of the face was covered with red paint. “They’re cute, but I mainly got Ladybug as a nickname because I brought luck to a greek competition and I guess the name stuck.”

“Well, it would be too forward to say that you’re the cutest Ladybug I’ve ever seen.”

“My, my, someone’s a flirt, Kitty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue in confidence. With a hoodie like that, he probably had heard the name hundreds of times. Although, Marinette did enjoy seeing the tables turned as his cheeks dusted pink.

“What can I say, I’m a trebled man.”

Marinette held back a giggle. “So what song are you singing?”

“Just some random pop song that they pulled out of a hat. It could have been worse. You?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette confessed, “My big picks the song for me and rates me on my performance.”

“Sounds like you have to be pretty sharp to accomplish that successfully.”

“I’ll just be thankful when my turn is over.”

“What if we made it interesting.” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “Whoever gets the most applause for their performance wins. If I win—I get to take you out on a date.”

“And if I win?” Marinette asked.

He opened his mouth to respond-

“Please put your hands together for Ladybug!”

Marinette pushes herself up, might as well get this over with. All eyes were on her as she made it up on the stage. Music started playing, and she couldn’t help but smile, she could work with this.

Nice to meet you, where you been?

I could show you incredible things

Magic, madness, heaven sin

Marinette scanned the room for a mark to look at; otherwise, her anxiety would kick in. Unfortunately, Alya was too far back that the darkness entrapped her. The second set of eyes she immediately latched onto were the familiar green eyes of her blonde company.

Saw you there and I thought

Oh my God, look at that face

You look like my next mistake

Love’s a game, want to play?

The smirk on the blond’s lips edged her on and gave her more confidence on the stage.

I'm dying to see how this one ends Grab your passport and my hand I can make the bad guys good for a weekend

All her nerves started the fade, and she began to work the stage. Dare she say this was- fun? So it's gonna be forever Or it's gonna go down in flames You can tell me when it's over If the high was worth the pain Got a long list of ex-lovers They'll tell you I'm insane 'Cause you know I love the players And you love the game

Marinette knew the song well enough that she could play to the strengths of the crowd. There was a bet to win after all. Not that she wouldn’t mind going out with the guy, he seemed nice enough, and handsome to boot.

Towards the end of the song, Marinette was sure that by the hoots and hollers she gained that not only was her performance enough to make her a shoo-in for the sorority, but also win the bet.

Her beaming smile could not be dampened as she settled back into her seat.

“Not bad, but I think I still have a chance,” he coolly replied. “Besides, you got the words wrong.”

What? Marinette had heard the song enough from Alya, and if she did need help, then the words were plastered on the screen.

“No, I didn’t.”

“I’ve heard that song before from one of my friends, and it definitely mentions Starbucks in it.”

Marinette could only blink in response; he had to be wrong. The mention of the coffee joint would make no sense in the context of the song.

She opened her mouth to correct him-

“Next up we have, Chat Noir!” The announcer’s voice boomed.

What a weird name. Who would name themselves after a black cat? Marinette’s question was answered when the blonde stood up from his seat.

“Hold that thought.” He winked, “I’ll be right Bach.”

Marinette’s eyes followed him up onto the stage. He certainly had the charisma to win; she could hear the gushing from the other tables almost instantly.

“Hey everyone, I’m Chat Noir of Sigma Thêta Pi. And I’d like to dedicate this song to the beautiful lady that has kept me company all evening.” His words were paired with a wink.

She slipped down a little as some darted heated gazes prickled her skin. But what caused further damage was the intense green stare coming from cat boy on the stage; it rendered her cheeks heated and colored. He only broke contact for a second to nod to the DJ to cue the music.

Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you

I drink too much and that's an issue but I'm okay

Hey, you tell your friends it was nice to meet them

But I hope I never see them again

His lips broke out into the biggest smile as he took over the stage and made it his own. But no matter what he did, his eyes met hers every couple of seconds.

So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover

That I know you can't afford

Bite that tattoo on your shoulder

Pull the sheets right off the corner

Of the mattress that you stole

From your roommate back in Boulder

We ain't ever getting older

He started to pull off some dance moves, and the crowd went wild.

He had said that they pulled this song randomly out of a hat; what were the chances that it was one of her favorite songs at one point. The longer the thought lingered, the more she remembered that the song was a duet.

Her head shot up to find his eyes on her, and she knew what was about to happen. In a blink of an eye, he grabbed the other mic and jumped off the stage mid-performance.

He wasted no time making his way to her table and held out his hand. If she stood, then she would be relaying a message to not only her partner but a crowded bar. Her feet found their footing, and she grabbed the extra mic from his hands in time to start singing in sync with the highlighted words.

You look as good as the day I met you

I forget just why I left you, I was insane

Marinette’s lips split into a smile as she turned her head back to look at him while walking to the stage. What she didn’t expect was Chat to brush past her to help her up on stage. The strength he used to pull her up, Marinette tried not to yelp. A wave of cheers escaped the crowd, and the realization hit her; they were eating up whatever was between them.

Stay and play that Blink-182 song

That we beat to death in Tucson, okay

She circled Chat Noir, allowing her fingers to graze over the fabric of his hoodie. When she crossed to the other side, his green eyes immediately snapped to hers and caused warmth to twist inside her chest.

The rest of the song they fell into sync, mirroring a countermove to their partner. People would have a hard time believing they only met today, Marinette mused. She could hardly believe it herself.

They ended the song facing each other eyes locked. Marinette found herself breathless, but only time would tell if that was the result of the performance or the stranger. The cheers were muted as Chat Noir reached out to push some hair back into its place.

“Thank you for singing with me,” he mumbled, allowing his hands to linger longer necessary, not that Marinette minded.

“You’re welcome, Kitty.”

They made their way back to their seats, everything the announcer said lost on them.

“You know,” he purred, “I’m pretty sure I won our little bet.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open to argue, but remember that they never said their performance had to be a solo one. He had her there. She reached into her purse to pull out a pen. Grabbing his hand, she scrolled several numbers on it.

“My number, text me tomorrow, and we can set something up.” Although, in theory, she would love to go somewhere now, time had slipped away from her, and it was already past midnight. She had a study session in the morning she couldn’t miss.

“How do I know this isn’t some wrong number?” He argued.

Marinette leaned in close enough that a kiss was inches away. “I guess you’re going to have to trust me, Minou.” She shot up from her seat purse in hand, winked, and then made a beeline for Alya.

“Time to go,” she grabbed her hand and tugged her away from a prolonged goodbye kiss.

Once they reached the outside, Marinette’s head stopped spinning. She turned her head back to see Chat Noir, still staring at her. The two exchanged smiles before Alya hailed a cab.

“So I want details with you and lover boy,” immediately spilled out of her best friends mouth and Marinette felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

“I gave him my number, and he’s going to text me and figure out when we can meet up.”

Alya’s fangirled giggles drowned to the sound of her cell phone buzzing.

Unknown: I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to text you. Sweet dreams, I know I will; revolving around Ladybugs.

Marinette tapped her phone to her lips, thinking of a reply.

Marinette: You sure are confident, how do I know you don’t say that to all the Ladybugs you meet?

Unknown: You caught me. But in my defense, you’re the only Ladybug I’ve met ;) Her smile widened.

Marinette: Fair enough. Meet me at the Starbucks on 13 Boulevard Saint-Michel at 11 am where I can inform you proper lyrics of Blank Space.

It took seconds for a response.

Unknown: it’s a date, My Lady.

A blush stained her cheeks with color as she shoved the phone in her pocket and turned her attention back to her best friend. If this was how they bantered after a first meeting, who knows what will happen. She realized that she had never got his real name, but if she texted him now, they would talk all night. It would have to wait until tomorrow. His last text flashed in her mind again, causing her stomach to tie itself in knots.

Dumb Cat.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #mircaulous fanfic #Ladynoir #no powers au #karaoke au #ladybug and chat noir

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aminellelia-blog · 6 years

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Fifty Shades of Grey Parody

This is my very first Tumblr post. I originally wrote this parody last year and posted it on Fanfiction.net, but now I decided to share it here too. If you like Fifty Shades of Grey I recommend you don’t read this story. It’s making fun of it to the fullest extent, because I really don’t like it.

All characters that aren’t part of the original story are covered in bold.

Enjoy!

We pan over Seattle. Bella-err, Anastasia Steele (not sure if it's supposed to be a subtle take on a sex toy) is a cute, clumsy, virginal, college student living there, trying to embody as many of the average female viewers as possible. Spoiler alert: she's less relatable than Bella Swan, which is ironic considering where her flatness originated from.

ANASTASIA'S BOTTOM LIP: OH. EM. GEE. I'm going to be a star!

KATE: Bella, I'm sick, so you'll have to interview that super, hot, sexy, although-kind-of-rapey-but-excused-because-he's-hot guy I was going to interview.

ANASTASIA: I've seen enough porn to know where this is going. YES! I've always wanted to say that line where it made sense.

KATE: Don't push it, girl. You're just interviewing him.

ANASTASIA: And I'm getting a piece of that.

AUDIENCE: Have all innocent-minded asexuals in the world miraculously moved to Mars?

Anastasia finds the bigass building owned by Edward Christian Cullen Grey. Huh, last time I watched *Secretary* he just owned a small office. Blown-up barbie human dolls meet her and is led to the predator's office. Ana, run. RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN, ya dense cow. To be cute, she stumbled over the flat threshold, which I have no idea how you possibly can.

CHRISTIAN: That's so adorable. Wanna have sex?

ANASTASIA: Sex is a tea flavor, right?

CHRISTIAN: Hominah. My name is Christian Grey. While you're on your knees anyway, suck my cock, hoe.

ANASTASIA: What an interesting euphemism for interview. My name is Anastasia St-pff! My friend is sick with the flu and asked me to come here being your next victim in her place. Though, I don't know how a man with toddler eyes could be dangerous.

CHRISTIAN: A slut's mouth shouldn't be moving more than necessary, so get on with your 10-minute interview.

ANASTASIA: Aight. Here's a question every sane viewer asks: How come you are so much richer at a younger age than Mark Zuckerberg was despite not doing shit?

CHRISTIAN: OMG, you stupid, f*cking bitch. How dare you ask me a good question. I can't believe your insolence. Kill yourself.

ANASTASIA: Well?

CHRISTIAN: It's not very relevant, is it? What is relevant is my filthy rich viper up your low-class clam shell.

ANASTASIA: Vipers and clam shells?

CHRISTIAN: Trust me, when it comes to the themes in this film, those are really the best metaphors.

ANASTASIA: Yeah, then...what is your interest outside of work?

CHRISTIAN: Didn't I already answer that? Enough with your audacity. Give me an actual question, if your inferior-to-men mind can afford that, you filthy lowlife.

ANASTASIA: Are you gay? Ain't I cute, reading and spitting out whatever before thinking.

CHRISTIAN: Another good question. What the hell is wrong with you?

ANASTASIA: Morton's Fork is at play, I see.

CHRISTIAN: If you must know, no.

ANASTASIA: Are you a self-serving asshole?

CHRISTIAN: Finally something relevant. Yes, I am. Now, do you have a question you want to ask me instead of your friend's?

ANASTASIA: You've spent this time insulting me and then you ask for my viewpoint. Heh. Okay.

CHRISTIAN: Shut it, hole-to-please-men. I just want to pry and see if you're up for sitting upon this lance or not. Let me give you subtle suggestiveness about it.

ANASTASIA: … You said you're an asshole. Why do I get the feeling that's not true?

AUDIENCE: Because you're numb in the upper story?

A secretary comes in and interrupts the so-called interview. More like a director-to-actor conversation.

SECRETARY: Mr. Grey, you have a meeti-

CHRISTIAN: Are you serious? We only talked for four minutes!

SECRETARY: OH! Yeah. Sorry. My bad. *Leaves*

CHRISTIAN eyes ANASTASIA with a creepy intensity that would rival Hugh Hefner's erection.

CHRISTIAN: I can't be standin' my stupid bitches. At least you seem bland, and that be good enough for me. How about finishin' your finals, then you becomin' my bottom bitch?

ANASTASIA: Throwing away my promising potential future career for becoming a mindless sex slave to a guy who can't stop staring down my vag? I'll think about it. It'll most likely be yes. Who am I kidding, it's yes. Otherwise there would be no plot to speak of.

AUDIENCE: In this case, it would be a good thing.

CHRISTIAN does the rarest thing next to platinum, being an actual gentleman walking ANASTASIA to the elevator. When she walks in, he steals the sheet with questions from her papers without her noticing.

CHRISTIAN: Joinkity-joink!

ANASTASIA walks out, where it conveniently rains. That sex joke was old 20 years ago.

ANASTASIA: Holy Hindu's Cow, that insulting business man made me cream myself, oh so help me. I'm gonna domesticate dat ass.

ANASTASTIA'S VAGINA: Finally, I get to see the light of day!

ANASTASIA'S BOTTOM LIP: LET'S WORK TOGETHER TO TAME HIM!

ANASTASIA'S VAGINA: YAY!

ANASTASIA'S BRAIN: Can I join the party, too?

ANASTASIA'S CLIT: Shove it, punk.

ANA goes home to her and KATE's dorm. KATE is sitting writing their report-thingamajig upon her arrival.

KATE: So how was he?

ANA: Polite, clean, courteous… oh, who am I kidding, he was a douchebag.

KATE: EEEEEE I SHIP IT SO HARD! … did you f*ck?

ANA: Heck, no! I think it will take time getting his misogyny to consent to that. By the way, that "gay" question, total dick move.

KATE: We as a society have to know everything, we can't leave it alone, we have to know every single detail.

ANA: Stop sounding like the 4chan community.

KATE steals ANA'S sandwich she was making.

ANA: You motherf*ck-, you just don't steal sandwiches! You just don't, EVER! Never mind, I will try to get one with the toppings of Grey's mojo… wait did I say that out loud? Holy crap crappity crap crap inner goddess subconscious!

KATE: OMG FAVORITE SHIP OF ALL TIME.

AUDIENCE: … planet Earth sucks.

ASEXUALS: Told ya so!

We get a montage of ANA going to class and meeting her friend JOSÉ when she goes on her way to work.

JOSÉ: Hey, uh… I love you and care about you. I'll show this by being genuinely courteous and caring.

ANA: I'm sorry, but I'm into dicks who want to hurt me by sticking giant Hitachi Magic Wands up my butt. See ya!

JOSÉ: … I can do that, too…

AUDIENCE: DUDE. NO. IT AIN'T WORTH IT.

FAN AUDIENCE: Even we agree.

ANASTASIA gets to her work shift and her phone rings; it's her mother stating she's not coming to her graduat-*yawn* this is not relevant to a wiener pushed up a cooch, so who honestly watching this drivel would give a flying fladoodle? We want action, dammit!

AUDIENCE: Not that we're expecting any worth jacking off to.

CHRISTIAN: *stalking*

ANA: *sees him* Holy shit… I'm so turned on right now.

CHRISTIAN: Pleasant meeting you, future slav- I mean, Ms. Steele…-y Dan. That will be your pet name, oh yeah.

ANA: Just Ana. If you're going to continue stalking me, at least don't be too polite.

AUDIENCE: Yeah, except he was already out of that game to begin with by stalking you. And by being an asshole. And by raping you with his eyes.

CHRISTIAN: Fyi, my sweet ragmuffin, I'm actually here on business. *cough*excepti'mactuallynotandiactuallywantdatass*cough*

ANA: What can I help you with?

CHRISTIAN: Give me some rap- err, rope to strangl- I mean, tie you up- I mean, use erotic asphyxation for- I mean…

ANA: Rope?

CHRISTIAN: … Yeah, rope. Just plain "rope". Let's go with that…

More useless dialogue… Putting in random Tom & Jerry skits would tell the story better.

CHRISTIAN: *senseless flirting*

ANA: *holy-crap-he-talks-to-lil'-ol'-me-blush*

FAN AUDIENCE: Squeeee!111 OMG HE SOH SEXEHH!

AUDIENCE: Quiet! I'm trying to think of a way to excuse myself out of watching this.

FAN AUDIENCE: You just don't get it!

AUDIENCE: Uh, yeah, we do. We really do, pumpkin.

ANA: Thank you for buying at Clayton's, please come again have a great day, bye mmkay!

CHRISTIAN: Here's my phone number. I'm saying I'm offering original photos for your report by giving you this, but it's actually rapist-ese for "I want to penetrate your posterior".

ANA: Thanks come again. *he leaves, beat* I would masturbate now, but I'm so virginal and mentally 12-years old I don't even know how to.

AUDIENCE: Seriously? Just… seriously? Did you get an African circumcision or something?

The poopshoot-photo shoot happen fiddiddlediddlydoo. Of course, he asked her for coffee afterwards, like, the biggest shock since Donald Trump messing up as president… in case you don't get it, not shocking.

CHRISTIAN: Is José your boyfriend?

ANA: No.

CHRISTIAN: Is Paul your boyfriend?

ANA: No.

CHRISTIAN: Then no one will protect you from my sword's impending wrath. Perfect.

ANA: ?

AUDIENCE: The possessive streak isn't a warning signal.

FAN AUDIENCE: Dude, what the hell are you on about?

AUDIENCE: We're just counting the million things not inside Ana's brain. This is one of them, right behind sexual education and common sense.

FAN AUDIENCE: Dude, shut the f*ck up.

AUDIENCE: Nope. You get entertained by this, we get entertained by our thoughts. Win-win.

They go out for coffee. He would much rather do other things involving coffee with her, and I ain't talking about drinking it.

ANA: Woah, scolding hot.

CHRISTIAN: And I would ejaculate if it were all over you burning your skin and making you scream in pain- err, I mean, blow on it. Not just on it, but on my-

ANA: I find you intimidating.

CHRISTIAN: Clever hawk.

ANA: I also find you a high-maintenance obsessed jerk.

CHRISTIAN: Then why do you find me interesting?

ANA: The plot wants me to.

CHRISTIAN: Oh, right. So anyway, your family, what are they like? They must be just as interesting and colorless as you. (Finally got that pesky getting-to-know-her-question out of the way…)

ANA: My dad Ray is cool, and my mom is a romanti-

CHRISTIAN: Jab, jab jab. You?

ANA: Am I romantic? I'm an English major, so yes, I am. Because you have to be a linguist to be able to be passionate with words, and your entire personality hinges on your occupation. Also, this is a complete lie. I'm not romantic. I can't be if I'm lusting after you. But I like to think I am.

CHRISTIAN: *ahw shiet look* I can't deal with delusional dumbasses right now. Come, I'll walk you out, you can't do it yourself.

ANA: Because I'm so stupid?

CHRISTIAN: No, because you're a girl.

AUDIENCE: 100 million. 100 million dollars… *sob*

They go outside for the closest thing this movie can have for DRAMA. The scene is a bigger insult to the word than Ana's wet stain in her panties.

ANA: Look, if you have a girlfriend…

CHRISTIAN: I don't. I'm just going to pretend to have a shred of humanity in me by giving you one last warning that I'm everything you can't want, not that moronic girls like you like bad boys and will want to come back to them. Because this movie likes degrading women and making men into domineering overlords, in case you couldn't tell.

ANA: …OMG I'm going to sob and think about you and watch Nicholas Sparks films while eating chocolate ice-cream and be such a chick about it OMG boohoo! *runs off*

CHRISTIAN: …dammit, I'm horny now. Better find a prostitute.

AUDIENCE: I hope to find something to jack off to myself. Like the bicycle that just ran by and almost hit Ana in the shot.

FAN AUDIENCE: Jeez, you're still going?

ANA and KATE finished their exams and now they're going to party, because assuming you got passed in an exam without knowing first is cause for celebration. And, of course, along with being virginal like a rock in space without the company of another rock, she gets completely plastered. Aww, ain't that just the cutest thing ever?

AUDIENCE: When Rock Lee did it, yes.

FAN AUDIENCE: But, he destroyed everything in his path when drunk?

AUDIENCE: Exactly.

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: Let's up our game in cuteville.

ANA: *not having yet deleted him as contact for some reason, calls Christian* :D

CHRISTIAN: *picks up* Hello?

ANA: Hello. So, uh, this is my cute call to say I need you, man. Dude, I love you. Get over here so we can continue this plot already, you sexy fox. You're so bossy, tho. You need to stop being so controlling, I'm my own woman and I'll get what I want, and that is your dong in my throat.

AUDIENCE: Normally you become stupid when drunk, but she must be so stupid it goes the opposite way or something.

CHRISTIAN: Is this a booty call?

ANA: It's whatever you want it to be, baby. *hangs up*

JOSÉ comes out for the matter-of-time rejection scene with Ana as she has gone outside.

JOSÉ: I love you. Let's kiss.

ANA: No. I don't wannnaaaaa…

JOSÉ: No equals yes equals no equals yes equals no equals yes. Even numbers! That means you want to swallow my tongue. Let's get to it.

CHRISTIAN intervenes and pushes him away, trying to be a knight in shining armor, but since he is who he is, it's more like a kidnapping from the real knight in shining armor by comparison.

CHRISTIAN: Back off man, she's my future rape victim. Get your own.

JOSÉ: *rejected nice guy cockerspaniel eyes* *Leaves*

CHRISTIAN: Let's get you to my apartment.

ANA: No, thanks. I'm with Kate.

CHRISTIAN: I ordered my brother Elliot to go "Date Kate, she's willin'!"-

(A/N: I apologize for that reference, dear folks, but I have to maintain my sanity somehow)

CHRISTIAN: -because siblings are my bitches, too. You're coming with me now, I won't take no for an answer, you're useless by yourself.

ANA: *intimidated* Okay.

AUDIENCE: Crazy f*ck.

FAN AUDIENCE: Aww, he cares about her.

AUDIENCE: I'm pretty sure taking somebody home in hopes of screwing the shit out of them wouldn't fall under the "caring" category in the average dictionary.

FAN AUDIENCE: …is there an off switch on you?

AUDIENCE: So no one with actual brains can sarcastically comment on this to others amusement and make them want to kill themselves less? What do you think, genius?

Ana wakes up in Christian's apartment the next morning. Without even seeing him, hearing him, smelling him or using any of the other five main senses, he's already giving her orders in poor Alice in Wonderland references on the bedside table.

ALICE IN WONDERLAND REFERENCE: I'm only in it for the money.

ANA: Oh my God, an odd moment of out-of-characterness (the most I can have, anyway) makes me realize waking up like this is creepy. I mean, I'm undressed. And where did you sleep?

CHRISTIAN: Next to you.

ANA: OH. MY. GOD.

CHRISTIAN: Don't worry, necrophilia is not my thing.

ANA: What's that got to do with anything?!

CHRISTIAN: … *sigh* I didn't have sex with your sleeping body.

ANA: Why didn't you just say so? What the hell did you mention necrophilia for?

AUDIENCE: Because E.L. James and Sam-Taylor Johnson feel so smug that they know a complicated word they forgot to look up the actual meaning behind it.

ANA'S SUBCONSCIOUS: Don't worry, that's kind of their thing.

CHRISTIAN: *throws toast at Ana* EAT.

ANA: NO. *throws it back*

CHRISTIAN: I ain't playing catch *throws it back* EAT.

ANA: *succumbs, takes a bite*

CHRISTIAN: I'm picking up new clothes for you, too. The ones you wore looked like shit.

ANA: Because I puked on them?

CHRISTIAN: Yeah, that too. *takes off shirt for absolutely no reason*

ANA'S VAGINA: Hominah hominah hominah hominah

FAN AUDIENCE: HELL YEAH, WE'RE FINALLY IN FOR KINKY STUFF!

AUDIENCE: Kill me…

CHRISTIAN'S ABS: Hey, baby, wanna go back to my place?

ANA'S CLIT: You bet your ass I wanna!

CHRISTIAN'S ABS: Cool. Let's just hope our hosts agree.

ANA'S CLIT: GDAMMIT.

ANA'S BRAIN: LOL!

ANA'S CLIT: STFU

ANA: Why did you take me here?

CHRISTIAN: Haven't I made that clear a million times already? I can't leave your sexy pooper alone, because I wanna do it.

ANA: …then don't. Leave it alone, I mean.

ANA'S CLIT: LOL!

ANA'S BRAIN: STFU

CHRISTIAN: You don't understand… oddly enough. I'm into BDSM. I like hardcore spanking-your-ass-til-you-bleed kink. I'm not into romance, I only like the aspects coming from it. You wouldn't be able to handle it.

ANA: Wanna bet?

CHRISTIAN: …50 bucks?

ANA: Deal. But I'll have to work first. Let's meet at 7 pm.

CHRISTIAN: 'Kay.

ANA'S BOTTOM LIP: *attention whoring*

CHRISTIAN: I'd like to bite that lip.

AUDIENCE: *snort laugh* I'm sorry, that's… just… beautiful. This would make an awesome comedy film. Just leave out the violent abuse, and you've got material better than Adam Sandler's.

CHRISTIAN: But I want you to write consent to that.

ANA: Ok.

AUDIENCE: *ROARING LAUGHTER*

FAN AUDIENCE: What's so funny? Lip-biting may be classified as rape in Wyoming!

They go to the elevator to take Ana home, with the latter doing some more cute lip-biting.

CHRISTIAN: That's a dealbreaker!

AND SEXY MAKEOUT TIEMZ ARE HAD LMAO.

They get to Ana's apartment and MORE SEXY TIEMZ ARE HAD… by Kate and Elliot, that is.

FAN AUDIENCE: Oh, come ON! When are the things we paid for coming?

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: Patience. If we made it shorter, the movie would be cheape- I mean, the movie wouldn't follow the original novel.

ANA: Okay, I did not have to see that.

CHRISTIAN: Only if it were you and I in a mirror. *slasher smile*

ANA: Whu…?

The boys leave for the girls to have girls talk which is stupid as per usual. (A/N: Before you say anything, I'm female. Who find this kind of girl talk stupid. I'm not explaining it further).

KATE: Now did you f*ck?

ANA: No.

KATE: Damn! How slow are you, girl?

ANA: I barely know him, Kate.

KATE: So what?

AUDIENCE: Because true love doesn't have to revolve around sex and in actuality comes down to respect and understanding from both parties' ends and being happy just spending time with your partner in terms and ways that aren't constantly related to your genitals?

FAN AUDIENCE: Ha! What kind of gay theory is that?

AUDIENCE: The theory from dawn of time.

FAN AUDIENCE: …Well, the world is progressing.

AUDIENCE: Negatively, yes.

FAN AUDIENCE: For crying out loud, when will you shut up?!

AUDIENCE: When they give up on continuing the series.

FLYING-IN-A-STUPID-HELICOPTER-MONTAGE: *plays music by Ellie Goulding far surpassing the quality of this film*

Their helicopter ride got them to an apartment more classy than any mansion somewhere else, which isn't where they were before at least, and wine is had. There is a non-disclosure agreement set on the table in front of Ana.

ANA: What is that?

CHRISTIAN: It's a contract with terms and conditions about discussing our relationship, sexually or no, with anyone. My frickin' lawyer is involved with it, because rutting back and forth is formal business.

ANA: Wow, I had no idea you were so organized. That's hot.

AUDIENCE: Controlling is more like it.

ANA signs it without reading its entirety, making her agree to become a HUMANCENTiPAD with two others that… oh, sorry, wrong show. I just find that scene more arousing than anything in this.

ANA: Are you gonna make love to me now?

CHRISTIAN: I don't make love. I f*ck. Hard.

AUDIENCE: That line is too magnificent to comment on.

FAN AUDIENCE: GOOD. I was about to bash your head in.

Ana isn't frightened, because those words are calming for a virgin. She asks why this is, and he takes her to his "playroom".

CHRISTIAN: Beyond this door, there's a playroom.

ANA: Like your Xbox and stuff?

AUDIENCE: How the hell are you 21?

CHRISTIAN: If by Xbox you mean anal play thing, then yes. Not that I would expect a hair-brained idiot like you to use sexual euphemisms.

He takes out a key.

CHRISTIAN: Anyway, know that you can leave at any time. If it's too much for you, I completely understand. Just know that the helicopter is outside and I'm not forcing you into anything. Just relax, don't panic when you see it, just tell me. Calm down, calm down CALM DOWN CALM DOWN!

ANA: YOOUUUU calm down!

AUDIENCE: The Three Stooges slapstick would be comedy gold right now.

ANA: Try me, Mr. Man.

ANA'S BRAIN has been beaten to unconsciousness by the other three main emotions of hers.

ANA'S CLIT: Welcome to kinkville, faggot.

The door is opened, and she's presented to the very sexual definition of "playroom".

ANA: HOLY SHIT.

In terror, she looks at his perverted stash of sex toys. Stepping forward, she takes an even breath and touches one of them thoughtfully. Christian walks up behind her.

CHRISTIAN: That's a flogger.

ANA: Yeah, because when I see a room full of sexual equipment meant for blurring the thin line between pain and pleasure I'm not even familiar with as I'm a virgin I wonder what the hell a feathery sex toy is called.

CHRISTIAN: Didn't you?

ANA: …yeah, I did.

CHRISTIAN: Well, then. What do you think?

SILENCE: *appropriate*

CHRISTIAN: Say something. Please.

ANA: Well, sorry, but this is a lot to take in! I have never had sex, after all! Do you expect me to just up and "This is cool, let's roleplay as Batman and Catwoman while I'm tied up in the most humanly degrading position possible with these ropes over here"?

CHRISTIAN: …yes? I mean, only if you want me to.

AUDIENCE: Well, how the heck can she know if she wants to, dumbass?

CHRISTIAN: Well, I'm a dominate. That means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me. There are my set of rules I want you to follow; if you follow them, reward awaits. If you don't, you'll be punished.

ANA: By using this stuff on me?

CHRISTIAN: No, by saying mean things to you that would hurt your widdle feewings- of course with this stuff, lummox!

AUDIENCE: You know that South Park fanfiction "Kyle in Chains"? That story explained BDSM a hell of a lot better.

FAN AUDIENCE: That story didn't even revolve around BDSM.

AUDIENCE: Exactly.

ANA: What would I get out of this?

CHRISTIAN: Aside from bruises? Me.

ANA: And if I refuse?

CHRISTIAN: You won't be getting me, genius. That's how bargains work.

They leave the room to head for a different room.

CHRISTIAN: If you agree, this will be your room during the weekends while we spend the entirety of it having hardcore sex in mine. We'll discuss negotiations later and sounding so formal when talking about something so ridiculous as this is just laughable.

ANA: …what if I wanted you in a romantic way?

CHRISTIAN: That will never work.

ANA: But-

CHRISTIAN: I said no. I can only have this type of relationship. I only get off on making my girls suffer. Being tender and loving towards them makes me sick to my stomach. It's so gay. Because people practicing bondage don't have feelings and are cold-hearted monsters like me.

ANA: Aren't you being a bit close-mi-

CHRISTIAN: No, I'm not. Now shut up.

AUDIENCE: F*cking bigot.

CHRISTIAN: Now, I have a contract prepared detailing what kind of pain I want to serve on your pretty little ass. I'll let you decide what I can do to you, except I will not.

ANA: I wouldn't know how. Because like my naïvity about this subject has strongly implied during the last few days, I'm a virgin.

CHRISTIAN: What is that, what is vur-geen? Never heard of it. *gets whispered information by Sam-Taylor Johnson* Holy crap, that's a concept?!

He retaliates in shock and rests his forehead in his palm.

CHRISTIAN: Just… a life without sex. What kind of life is that? Is it the life of the dismayed? Do you live in New Jersey?

ANA: Maybe lives don't revolve around sex.

CHRISTIAN: Dare say that again and I will slap the shit out of you.

AUDIENCE: And we all know perfectly well you'd follow up on that word.

Christian empathically cradles her face in his hands, feeling sorry for her for something one shouldn't feel sorry for anyone about.

CHRISTIAN: Poor baby. You don't know how it feels to be penetrated by a pink-headed womb broom in your octopus taco? My God. I can't imagine the pain you're enduring.

ANA: Um… I'm not hurting.

CHRISTIAN: Yes, you are. Without knowing it. I don't know how you can feel pain without knowing it, but that's beside the point. I need to save your honor by f*cking you until your pussy has turned to mush.

ANA: Didn't you say you wouldn't touch me until I wrote my consent?

CHRISTIAN: Look, you want me to make tender, passionate, affectionate love to you or not?

ANA: *instantly forgets what she just said* Of course, *swoony-woony*. Let's hit the sack, bad boy!

AUDIENCE: Finally! Let's see if the trailers put the money where their mouths are.

They take an awful long time to strip each other…

AUDIENCE: Okay…?

Take more time stripping one another…

AUDIENCE: OKAY?

Now he's slowly caressing her from top to bottom.

AUDIENCE (ANGRY VIDEO GAME NERD VOICE): WHAT THE F*CK?!

FAN AUDIENCE: *smiles awkwardly*

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: Perfect! That fills the tenderness quota for the film. Now, what more can arouse the viewer? Ah, yes, close-ups of Dakota's nipples and Jamie's hairy ass, of course!

AUDIENCE: *grossed out*

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: And his refusal to let her touch him during her first time is so hot OMGGG, I'm 'bout to bust my puss… OH… OOOOHHHHHHH…. Ah, done. Get me some tissues, E.L James. I'm finished.

E.L. JAMES: THAT WAS BLOODY AWESOME, I GOTTA SAY! There's no way any one can not get hot and bothered by this.

FAN AUDIENCE: …WTF. We paid to see porn! Instead we got close-ups of skin and poorly-acted orgasms.

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: You paid to see Fifty Shades of Grey. Now shut up and beat it. Literally. 'Cause this is what you're getting.

FAN AUDIENCE: FFFFMMMLLL…

Some more SMEXY TIEMZ are had, but it further reinforces the wish among the audience that they could be watching a good-quality video of drying paint instead. Because it would be more sexually stimulating than anything we've been shown so far, including the hot tub sex…

AUDIENCE: You know? I would be a million times more excited had the main characters been Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling instead.

FAN AUDIENCE: But he's literally a murderous psychopath!

AUDIENCE: Exa-*gets punched by fans* -oof!

ANA: So where's the 50 bucks you owe me?

CHRISTIAN: Not so fast, I have yet to- *hears steps downstairs* oh, shit! Mommy's here!

CHRISTIAN'S BOLOGNIA WAND: Retreat! Retreat!

ANA'S BRAIN: So I guess this is the only sense of dignity he has, huh?

ANA'S CLIT: You still alive, asshole?

They go downstairs to greet Christian's mother (whom is not the one described in the book as the "crack whore" I hope…)

CHRISTIAN'S MOM: Hey, how is my baby today? Is he feeling like the same shit-load amount of money he's got for doing nothing but sexing random ladies up?

CHRISTIAN: MOOOOOOOOOMMM, I was having a lady over for SEEEEEEEEXXX…

CHRISTIAN'S MOM: Hush, dear, I know you have to do something to not bore yourself to death in your spoiled rotten rich life.

CHRISTIAN: *childish pout*

Ana reaches her hand out to greet her hopefully-not-future-mother-in-law, which the latter grabs.

ANA: Hello~

CHRISTIAN'S MOM: Oh, you must be his new toy! It is a pleasure to meet you, the 105th girl in his woman-of-the-week-parade. How's your bottom?

ANA: Well-

CHRISTIAN'S MOM: Oh my, you must be a very special girl whom he could hopefully settle down with forever; I've never met such a chunk of platinum like you! How would you like to come to a family dinner so we could get more acquianted with a rare gem such as yourself?

ANA: Umm…

CHRISTIAN's MOM: Perfect. I'll make the arrangements. You just go get yourself ready in that wedding gown, sweetheart.

CHRISTIAN: Uhm, mommy? Shut up. You're embarrassing me.

CHRISTIAN'S MOM: My dear boy, don't be embarrassed. I think you and her could become something. She's so extraordinary compared to all the other strumpets you've fooled around with. I just look at her and think perfection.

ANA: Fart.

CHRISTIAN'S MOM: EXCELLENCE! Well, I'll be heading out now.

AUDIENCE: Just a heads up, she didn't really say "fart", we just put it there because she might as well have.

FAN AUDIENCE: How are you able to do that?

AUDIENCE: Sarcasm is a superpower, numbskull. Have you lived under a rock among brainless babies on North Sentinel Island in the Bay of Bengal or something?

FAN AUDIENCE: What?

AUDIENCE: What?

AUTHOR OF THIS PARODY: *obviously out of sarcasm fuel*

The duo, not couple, comedy DUO, goes upstairs to have some penis-to-vag, err, heart-to-heart. They can't even have brain-to-brain… or foot-to-foot for that matter.

ANA: *suddenly jealous* How many women have stayed in here?

CHRISTIAN: *quick* 15.

ANA: That's a lot of women…

AUDIENCE: Nah, sweet-ums, you're barely scratching the surface. He has had more women than there are Undertale AUs.

FAN AUDIENCE: And how do you know that?

AUDIENCE: How do you not know that?

ANA: I still don't want out. You're shaking with anticipation of beating me senseless in ways thinly veiled as pleasurable, not promising any tenderness and romance whatsoever despite you having said that's what I want, and not claiming you'll stop being a control freak in every little aspect of my life. But I still don't want out. I'm now going to contradict what I just said by being catty about agreeing to it.

CHRISTIAN: Well, your call. I promise, it will be very pleasurable and satisfying to be doing hardcore kink even when it's a new thing to you and may not be your thing after all. Just ignore the bleeding out of your pink sock and excessive pain that will come with it, it's all in the name of mind-numbing pleasure.

ANA: Well, if I do get sexual pleasure out of it, I guess I could think about it.

CHRISTIAN: You getting pleasure? What in- oh! Yeah…! Right…

ANA: Also, why don't we sleep like a normal couple? Why do we have to sleep in separate rooms?

AUDIENCE: Haven't you been listening to what he said at all? Aside from "You. Me. Bandicooting"?

CHRISTIAN: Because like I've already demonstrated to true BDSM practicioners' frustrations, people into this kind of stuff are cold-hearted dicks not giving squat about their partner's feelings, so naturally, they must be portrayed as such and hate warm, tender intimacy.

AUDIENCE INTO BDSM: Screw this film. Screw it with a ten-foot pole coated in sulfuric acid.

AUDIENCE: … *slow clap*

ANA: You know what? Screw this. Screw you. I'm leaving. I'm my own woman, dammit. I don't want a creep like you to be controlling me, thank you very much. I'm going home. Don't touch me.

Ana leaves determined. Everyone in the theatre quietly gawk in awe at the scene unfolded.

AUDIENCE: Holy crap, what's happening?! She's turning awesome!... did she get drunk again?

…only to have this moment of awesome be crushed into tiny bits when she's letting Christian drive her home.

ANA: Yeah, I know, but drive me home, then I'll be my own woman.

AUDIENCE: It's going to go on like this, ain't it?

Then he doesn't drive her straight home, but to a secluded area in a forest where no one can hear them for miles, and will provoke the makers of films like the Pumpkinhead into filing complaints of plagiarism. Because this kind of plot could very well set off when you have a character like Christian Grey. Anyhow, Ana is being stupid as she agrees to walk with him in the woods, furthering setting in stone that her subconscious will make her do as he says no matter what… as she dances in that bright red hula skirt and stomps her foot and makes a triple-axel jump or whatever.

ANA: So what made you realize that hurting women is sexually gratifying to you?

CHRISTIAN: I was sexually abused by a family friend when I was 15.

ANA: That's terrible!

CHRISTIAN: No, it was awesome. 'Doesn't matter, had sex', y'know? You're the pity pig here, as you were still a loser virgin prior to me fixing your shameful treatment of your body by not sticking stuff up your every orifice. Freak.

They walk near a bridge out to the open waters.

CHRISTIAN: Nobody knows. Not my mommy, not my brother, not anyone. And this is not a problem I should have called the police for since she f*cked me up, cuz…doesn't matter, had sex. It was intimidating for me at first, too, but I eventually came to consent to her sexual abuse of a minor. Hear that, pedophiles? Sexually abuse a child enough, and they will eventually like it!

AUDIENCE: In the name of everything sacred, E.L. James, do you plan to brainwash the whole planet into bowing down to you, too? 'Cause I can already see the pedos starting to kneel down.

ANA: So, what? You're saying just because you liked it eventually, I'm going to, too?

CHRISTIAN: Exactly. There's no such thing as asexuality, discomfort/fear of sex, lack of a sex drive, a job, work, vacation, your family, spirituality, love, whatever. I don't know how those damn things are even concepts, mind you. I didn't have to give a shit about anything anymore. I didn't need to take responsibility for anything, I can just be whatever douchebag I feel like, 'cause I can disguise it as being a 'dominate'. When I felt that climax of my first time, I felt free and wonderful. It's my world. It's everything. It's my life. And if you let me, it can be yours, too.

ANA: *sceptic*

CHRISTIAN: You're the only girl I want this with. You're the only one I rode with in that helicopter, and had sex with in my own bed. You're specially speshuul, gurl.

ANA: *beams*

CHRISTIAN: *Phew-I-hope-I-didn't-forget-to-throw-out-Caitlyn's-panties-out-of-the-backseat-of-that-helicopter-grimace*

AUDIENCE: Oh. He pulls the "you're-the-only-one"-manipulation card. Nice touch.

CHRISTIAN: I've never slept next to anyone. Ever.

AUDIENCE: Except for your cousin Burt in 4th grade on a camping trip. Better watch out for her finding out you're lying, mac!

FAN AUDIENCE: Okay, will anyone shut this jackass up?

They share a soaring kiss, exchanging trust that shouldn't be there, lies, uncertainty, manipulative words… not saliva. Doggone it, not saliva. It would almost have been enough to compensate for the boredom of this scene. Then again, because it's FSoG, I would have complained, either way.

He then drives her home, but she seems to have a different attitude, but that's normal. That's what every person under Christian's manipulation would be. Not accepting, just… deluded. Insanely deluded.

CHRISTIAN: Contract. Read. Choice. Sex. *would have crossed out the next to last point initially but realized it would have scared her away from being his plaything so he didn't*

ANA: *nods* *grabs contract* *walks inside*

CHRISTIAN: *cartoony villain hand fidgeting* All according to plan.

ANA walks in having been given a new computer by Christian whom she talked to mere seconds ago. Oh, an he also gave her first-editions of some books she likes earlier in the film, but whatever. Didn't find that a crucial detail other than adding to the "I-shower-you-with-gifts-so-you-must-do-as-I-say" manipulation scale.

AUDIENCE: What's the difference between Christian Grey and Ted Bundy? Bundy at least tried to be charming when luring his victims.

FAN AUDIENCE: … *snorts a laugh*

AUDIENCE: What was that?

FAN AUDIENCE: I'm… just… I'm having a cold.

AUDIENCE: Uh-huh.

Kate is there being useless for a while and then Ana begins using the laptop. Apparently, it doesn't need to have information of the owner when signing up, nor a battery it seems, as it's immediately on. Now they're having e-mail contact, but I'm just going to speed-forward this segment taking its course over a few days (which requires talent to pad out, if you ask me) because it's useless filler about kinkmania fake trivia.

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar (ANA) has logged in.

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop (CHRISTIAN)has logged in.

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop: Use this computer for research on BDSM. Since your own computer is obviously incapable of that.

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar: ok!11 ^^ but waiiii… are u gunna keep orderinh me around liek dis? cuz if u r den fuk of :)

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop: You first want to be dominated and now you don't? This is the reason I don't value bitches above a hole. Anyway, to answer your question for the millionth time this hour, yes, I want to dominate you, and you will love it. I've already covered this issue with sarcasm so let's just move on.

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar: yea well…your the boss. what shud I search derpityderpderp? :)

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop: Well, wth do you think?

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar: PUPPIES! :)

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop: Yeah… had we been searching on the deep web for crush porn. Just search 'submissive', Gena Leung.

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar: okidokiee!

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop: Well?

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar: HOLY CRAPPY CRAP UP MY CRAPPER U WANT 2 DO DIS SHIET 2 ME LIEK WTF WTH IS WRONG WITH U U WAN 2 TY ME UP WITH LIL LETHERSTRAPPIES

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop: Of course I don't, mooncalf. I don't want to use any damn leather. Fish leather can't hold for poop. I need real stuff like rope to tie you down.

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar: I DUNNO. I DUNNO ANYMORE

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop: Hey, relax, guy!

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar: I AM PERFETCLY CALM. I JUST FORGET TO SHUT OF DUH CAPSLock is all. There. No butt serius thats som messed shit ur in 2 and I dun wanna be parg ovit. I just lost my virgin & I think I need 2 get used 2 mission before trying dog cat monkey coleacanth style or whatev its bn nice nwing you tho, hop u can find someone consentign. Kisses 33333 XOXOXOXOX CU

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop: …

HardcorePattycakeWithPoppedCherryOnTop has logged off.

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar: wut

TwinkleTwinkleWittleStar: helo

Ana just got home from running when a looming, frightening, terrifying silhouette of a serial killer emerges from the darkest deepest corners of the shadows' domain, and- oh, wait. It's Christian.

AUDIENCE: What's with that surprised pause?

Expectly, this scares Ana's tits off, except not, otherwise Christian would have lost interest in her the instant she had had.

ANA: Holy crap on a crapper!

CHRISTIAN: YOU SHOULD HAVE RESPECTED MY AUTHORITAH. *proceeds to rape her*

I wish it was a typo. I wish upon Geppetto's star it was a typo. But it isn't.

AUDIENCE: Like, shit! We knew he was a creeper as we accused him of being a rapist, but we didn't think he would actually be one! …Our intuition was actually correct?

FAN AUDIENCE: Thanks a lot for jinxing it! Okay, you were right, we're admitting it. Happy now? Feeling better with your inflated ego further stroked?

AUDIENCE: Depends… do you know the Ashiatsu Massage Technique?

Some wacky looney adventures ensue involving ice-cubes, spanking, and raping of Ana in thin guise as kink. Hey, everytime he roughly thrusts into her as she gasps in pain, let's take one shot! That way we can survive this.

AUDIENCE: Two. Two shots.

And let's put in "Haunted" by Beyoncé as some mood music for the hot steamy scene of… taking these shots. What other steamy scene would there possibly be? No, seriously. Enlighten me.

AUDIENCE: Wait… this is way too fitting. Did you plan this, Sammy?

SAM TAYLOR-JOHNSON: Rape fantasy, bitch… HHHHHGGGGGNNNNN *climaxes*

AUDIENCE: …I'll take that as an "obviously I did, you idiot".

We cut to them laying in bed at night having some pillowtalk.

ANA: That was amazing.

ANA'S BRAIN: You know, you could say it wasn't rape anymore when you consented, but it was still rape because you initially didn't.

ANA'S VAGINA: Okay, this? Has got to, like, stop.

ANA'S BRAIN: I have to stop? Cutiepie. Hadn't it been for me, we would have been dead right now. I'm the only common sense she has provided to stay catty to his bossiness. Considering I'm in the minority, that says a lot about her intelligence.

ANA'S VAGINA: Well, then, why don't you stay in the minority and let us handle this, scrote?

ANA'S BRAIN: BRAIN LIVES MATTER

Ana wants to touch Christian, but…

CHRISTIAN'S BODY: Eyy, f*ck off, bitch, you be treadin' on private territory.

AUDIENCE: Ain't that hypocrisy more delicious than grandma's blueberry pie.

CHRISTIAN: So, anyway, are you gonna sign that contract? Not that it matters anyway, I would just rape you until you finally agreed to it. Boy, aren't negotiations always the best and most fair solutions? I win something out of it both ways, too.

ANA: Yeah, no. I dunno yet. You just raped me but I might still want in.

ANA'S BRAIN: *slowly getting dissipated from the power of dumbassness* NOOOOOOOO!

Christian walks up with a disappointed look and proceeds to put his clothes on.

ANA: Wait, you're more butthurt than I am?

CHRISTIAN: No, not really. I just have to go home and make a new list of ways to rape you in manners that would help persuade you. I was thinking of something with the word "cleveland steamer" in it next.

Ana reads the contract for a few days and decides that in order to avoid another rape, she could at least pretend interest by ordering som insanely dumb formal meeting between the two of them about the contract, which she isn't going to sign anyway, and only exist to pad out this movie more, because more the merrier, it makes green in pocket. Let's water it with dirty talk and sexual lube fluids.

ANA: Conditions: strike this out, strike that out, strike blah out…

CHRISTIAN: *sob* Okay. *grabs ice-cream* I don't know why I'm not giving up on you and just hire a prostitute. That's what Donald Trump is doing.

AUDIENCE: Because you're not just rich, both of your literal heads are also thick. I guess your income doesn't match your IQ.

ANA: What are butt plugs?

CHRISTIAN: *begins a "shit-are-you-serious" look but gets interrupted by his sla- err…aw, heck, why hide it, his slaves*

His goons come in to leave food and...yeah, that's it. Then they leave.

ANA: Okay, what was the point of adding that to the film?

CHRISTIAN: To further rub it in your face how rich I am and how luxurious I live and will make you agree to this contract and I'm not giving you all the details of what all the tools will be used for because miscommunication is also standard for BDSM.

AUDIENCE INTO BDSM: *claps in strained joy, pukes blood*

CHRISTIAN: You know, I'm pretty impressed with your devotion to this contract, I didn't expect that since no other subject was.

AUDIENCE: Because they were smart?

CHRISTIAN: Tell you what, once a week, we'll go on a date. As a couple. But all the other days of the week you'll bend to my will and I will f*ck you in every way I choose, and if you refuse, I'll abu- err, punish you.

AUDIENCE: You're still trying to hide it?

ANA: OMG, you care about me?! That's so romantic!

CHRISTIAN: Sure, whatever. We can watch a movie… have you ever seen Backdoor Sluts 9? Fritz the Cat? No wait, I know… Pinocchio! That donkey transformation scene is my favorite porno.

ANA: I believe I haven't. Enlighten me, then?

CHRISTIAN: App, app, app, only on that one day of the week, skank.

They finish up this "business meeting" and they talk the dirty that would water dollar greens and money trees.

CHRISTIAN: (actual line) I would like to f*ck you into the middle of next week.

ANA: *smiles, flattered*

AUDIENCE: Would screaming in agony at her messed up reaction to that statement be overreacting?

FAN AUDIENCE: We don't know anymore.

ANA: Anywayz, I want to leave to review these changes and then I'll decide. Could you hold in your kinky sex-pee just a widdle while longer?

CHRISTIAN: *growling impatiently* Would f*cking you on this table help you decide faster? Because, as you remember, I can just rape you until you consent.

ANA: Mew?

CHRISTIAN: You want me to make love to you. I can see it; you're pressing your thighs together, your breathing's turning uneven, your complexion… you're flushed.

ANA: Did you just describe trying to hold in a fart?

CHRISTIAN: If you did stay, I would *dirtytalkdirtytalkdirtytalkdirtytalkdirtytalkdirtytalk*

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: Well? Are you getting excited? Cuz I sure am, ohohohoh! You naughty boy, Christian, you!

FAN AUDIENCE: I can't get it up/wet to save my life.

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: Need help? Lower-lip-bite?

FAN AUDIENCE: No don't you get it? YOU SUCK! Watching my grandmother naked would make me climax faster!

AUDIENCE: OH, SNAP!

E.L. JAMES: You just don't get it.

FAN AUDIENCE: Says someone whose toxic vagina hasn't gotten action in probably 20 years and needed to write something as dry and simple as this to get horny.

AUDIENCE: OOOOHHH OHHHHHHH 360 NO SCOPING LIKE F*CK

Ahem, anyway, back to the story. Ana decides to leave, for some reason not given, I guess, immediately. Anyway, Ana's being a little of a tease, which I don't think will help him hold further back from taking her over and over against her will like a daffodil being forced to open its petals before spring has properly matured. I'm sorry, I'm trying to sound funny. I know it's not working.

ANA: This will have to wait, I'm gonna go graduate.

CHRISTIAN: Again? Because you failed the first one?

ANA: No, this is the first one.

CHRISTIAN: Oh, that wasn't over yet? …f*ck a duck.

They graduate and Christian has a speech at the graduation in order to be an attention whore. Ana meets her dad afterwards.

ANA'S DAD: I'm so proud of you. My little girl graduated with honors and will begin a successful career. I'm so moved.

AUDIENCE: Okay, now this is just sad.

CHRISTIAN: Woah, she's talking to her dad she hasn't seen for a long while? Time to butt in and be a possessive creep!

ANA'S DAD: Oh, hello. So you're Ana's boyfriend? Pleasure to meet you. I enjoyed your speech greatly. How long have you two known each other?

CHRISTIAN: Excuse me, sir, I couldn't hear you over the prospective scream of pain I'll envoke from her when we have damaging sex tonight. Also, over the cameraman wanting a shot. Pardon.

Christian pulls Ana close for the shot despite her discomfort.

AUDIENCE: Any sane father would cut his testicles off at this point. So he's either insane or a step-father how would personally do the same.

They later have champagne.

CHRISTIAN: To celebrate the fact that nothing stops you from signing that damn contract already. Oh, and your graduation.

ANA: *looks down*

CHRISTIAN: Bitch, did you just roll your eyes at me? Oh my God, you insolent little snitch. I'm going to spank yer arse if ye do that again, lassie.

AUDIENCE: Why don't you just admit there's no need for a contract already?

CHRISTIAN: By the way, I've got you a gift.

AUDIENCE: Is it her freedom?

CHRISTIAN: Not even close, it's a brand new car.

ANA: Holy shnapcaronis, a new car? A new car. A new car! I can't take it, it's too much. I have my own.

CHRISTIAN: No, you see, you have to take it, because I sold the one you already had.

ANA: F*ck, are you serious now?! What the hell is wrong with you?! It was my damn car!

AUDIENCE: Is it finally dawning on her now?

CHRISTIAN: Wait, bitch, did you just roll my eyes at me again? Did you just have the insolence of being rightfully angry at me for selling something that wasn't mine but I think I can sell anyway because I think money gives me authority? That's enough. You're getting a spanking, you naughty girl.

AUDIENCE: FOR DOING WHAT?!

Christian proceeds to spank her with the agressivity of a newborn puppy.

AUDIENCE: Oh. Well, that alleviates things somewhat.

FAN AUDIENCE: How dare she not accept a gift when he sold her stuff without telling her first. How dare she. Why doesn't he the next time just kill her mom and then put her on the Judas Cradle for daring to cry over her death?

AUDIENCE: …wait, are you agreeing with us?

FAN AUDIENCE: …no?

Christian leaves after getting his nightly get-off and Ana gets a call from her mother.

ANA'S MOM: Hi, honey. My mother senses are tingling that something is completely and utterly wrong with you at this time. Wanna talk?

AUDIENCE: What, have your mother instincts been on vacation during this whole movie?

ANA: *silently cries* Mama…

ANA'S MOM: What's wrong? Honey, what is bothering you?

ANA: *sob* I dunno if he's making me happy. He's so weird, I'm… so confused.

ANA'S MOM: You know, come down whenever you want to talk. I'm here. Well, I always have been. I don't know what took you so long to realize you need sense beaten into you.

ANA: That's… I might do that.

Then she goes and makes out with the same prick they just talked about.

AUDIENCE: No comment.

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: Time for more baking baby-batter, baby!

FAN AUDIENCE: *Feelings of emptiness*

E.L. JAMES: Ohhhh yeahhh…

FAN AUDIENCE: *Feelings of the suicidal kind and emptiness*

After the movie's hourly sex, they head to have dinner with his family. You know? The one they promised earlier in the film…? Yeah, I didn't remember either, I had to look back at what I had written.

Believe it or not, they actually have a decent talk. His family is nice, like his mother, and brother… too bad the reason she's there is a posessive rap- you know what? We should invent a new word for this guy. How does Christianity sound?

AUDIENCE: That one's taken, dumbass. Just go with Christian.

FAN AUDIENCE: Isn't that one taken too?

AUDIENCE: Oh, come on!

ANA: Yeah, my mother lives in Georgia. I'm going to visit her tomorrow.

CHRISTIAN: You're trying to be your own woman? How dare you! When were you gonna tell me this?

ANA: Woah, chill the hell out. I'm just going to visit her. It's not like I'm out of our bargain and planning to move as far away from you as possible, even though that's what my brain has been nagging me about doing.

CHRISTIAN: You're implying there's a difference between those notions.

They leave to walk in the garden, with Christian carrying her on his shoulder and spanking her on the way.

ANA: Why are you angry? This is my choice! You have no right to control everything I do!

CHRISTIAN: Stop spewing bullshit or you're in for a spanking.

ANA: You're already spanking me!

CHRISTIAN: In for a beating, then. You're mine, all mine, when are you going to realize that? You're only mine.

AUDIENCE: What, are you worried she's going to have incest-sex with her mom, or something?

They kiss "passionately" for a few moments until Ana breaks away.

ANA: Christian, you are so confusing.

FAN AUDIENCE: I swear, they were going to say "controlling" but changed it at the last second.

ANA: Why can't we sleep in the same bed? Why can't you let me touch you? Why do you care so much about that damn contract? Why can't you like me the way I am? Why must you hurt me to get off? Why must you be such a cold-hearted prick?

AUDIENCE: Did she ask all the questions?

FAN AUDIENCE: *looks at list* Check, check, check… nope. She still hasn't asked herself why she's with him. She also hasn't asked herself why she felt attracted to him in the first place, but her realizing that is overestimating her intelligence.

He, unsurprisingly, doesn't answer a single question. Except he does, when she's asleep later on, but unbeknownst for him, it doesn't really count. Not in my book, anyway. And not in every other person's book on this planet. Except maybe Stephenie Meyer's.

Ana is giving a feminist boost and goes to meet her mother in Georgia despite his protests, because she hasn't descended deep enough into the madness that she'll stop loving her family… kind of what Christian has. I hope we can still help her.

FEMINISM: I'm the most all-mighty power in the universe and you all should bow down to me! I'm Wonderwoman, I'm Starfire, I'm-!

ANA'S CLIT: Oh, shut the hell up.

Ana has dinner/lunch with her Step-father and mother.

STEP-DAD: You wanna know this recipe? It's easy. Just take som movie-padding and pour it with salsa.

ANA: Thanks! I'll make sure to keep that in mind for the next two films! Sammy must start getting creative on that part if they are to be released.

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: Can it! I'm doing my best.

AUDIENCE: To be honest, I'm not really blaming Sammy here.

Ana later lays in bed.

ANA: I got here to get away from Christian, so now I'm gonna text him saying I wished he were here with me.

The next day, he arrives to meet her.

CHRISTIAN: Meddle?

ANA: Holy crap, what the crap are you doing here?!

AUDIENCE: Sanity is underrated, am I right?

CHRISTIAN: You sent me a text saying you wished I was here, so now I'm here. Duh. Do you want two other wishes granted?

ANA: Well, yeah. If you could leave me alone for five damn seconds, I would be happy.

CHRISTIAN: Forgot to tell you. I'm the kinky-genie, so I will only grant wishes involving me doing anal on you. Just clarifying your options.

ANA'S MOM: I love this guy!

FAN AUDIENCE: You mean comedy-wise, or…?

ANA'S MOM LEAVES, HAVING TO REFUEL THE TANK OF HER MOTHER INSTINCT RADAR. Christian sits down and rips her glass from her hand.

CHRISTIAN: Stop drinking that, child, and flirt with me. Flirt with daddy.

ANA: Flirt flirt.

CHRISTIAN: Let's randomly go plane-flying. I can do that too, y'know.

ANA: Okay. Bye mom!... she didn't hear me. Oh well! Let's leave without noting her!

PLANE-FLYING MONTAGE: *being stupid… wait, didn't we already do a scene like this?*

CHRISTIAN: *looks like an idiot*

ANA: *looks like she's fighting against swallowing a fish*

After the ride we're back in Seattle to continue this conflict-which-could-be-solved-with-a-dialogue-of-good-communication-or-a-police-call-or-having-the-luck-of-not-being-Fifty-Shades-Of-Grey-drama.

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: I think people with somehow chaste needs will be satisfied over this. Not that somebody not having them would know. Back to THE SMEX!

FAN AUDIENCE: The "plot" will be back after these supposed steamy messages.

AUDIENCE: Should we remove the "fan"-part of your name?

FORMER-FAN AUDIENCE: YES. THANK YOU.

FORMER-FAN AUDIENCE: NOT REALLY REMOVING IT, BUT WHATEV.

After the useless sex, we cut to Edw- err, Christian playing the piano with melancholy, Ana coming down listening to it.

ANA: The script of this film has really made me impatient. Can you tell me what the hell is wrong with you already?

CHRISTIAN: Shut the f*ck up.

ANA: Why do you wanna hurt me?

CHRISTIAN: Shut the f*ck up.

ANA: Why do you get off to it?

CHRISTIAN: BECAUSE THAT'S THE WAY I AM! SHUT THE F*CK UP!

AUDIENCE: Translation: Because I'm a sick f*ck still somehow roaming free and in desperate need of acceptance into the mental ward sharing the cell with Dexter.

FORMER-FAN AUDIENCE: And having the riches to back up every megalomaniac plan one can think of.

AUDIENCE: "And I own the police."

BIFF TANNEN: I'm proud of you, son.

DONALD TRUMP: Hey, that's my line, asshole!

ADOLF HITLER: Keep talking, bitches.

CHRISTIAN: (actual line) I'm fifty shades of f*cked up.

ANA: (drops IQ below -10) Because the stupidity of that line has dumbed me further than thought possible, why don't you show me just exactly how f*cked up you are?

CHRISTIAN: Okay. I'm gonna whip you six times.

EDWARD GREY: This pantywaist ain't got shit on me.

So Christian does, having her stripped naked to be whipped.

CHRISTIAN: *whips* HAHAHAHAH, WHO'S PUSSYWHIPPED NOW?! *whips* HAHA TAKE THIS LOL! *whips* TAKE THIS! IT'S NO USE! *whips* CHRISTIAN USED TAIL WHIP, IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE *whips* PERSONALLY, I PREFER YOUR ASS IN THE AIR! *whips*

ANA: *silently weeps in pain*

ANA steps away from Christian, covering her naked self in self-defense and a look of disgust in his direction. About time.

ANA: How dare you whip me! Even if I asked you to! Don't ever go near me again!

AUDIENCE: Oh, jeez. That shit again.

FORMER-FAN AUDIENCE: Bet it's not gonna hold.

She's later STILL in his house, sleeping, or rather weeping, in her room. He walks inside.

ANA: I love you, asshole. Leave now before I kill you, my love.

AUDIENCE: Wait, what?!

FORMER-FAN AUDIENCE: This film tries to subvert our expectations so hard it doesn't now which path to choose anymore! We have caused a rift in the space-time continuum! We have caused a paradox! The apocalypse! What are we to do?!

AUDIENCE: Take cover beneath the bunker which is our brain's nerve system.

FORMER-FAN AUDIENCE: Good idea!

ANA LEAVES CHRISTIAN AND THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER SEPARATED.

THE END.

AUDIENCE: I wish it was.

FORMER-FAN AUDIENCE: Holy crap! She was her own independent woman in the end! I've garnered the tiniest bit of respect for her now it's enough to create a molecule. Awesome twist E.L.!

E.L. JAMES: …

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: ERRR… THAT'S…

FORMER-FAN AUDIENCE: Wait, wait, wait, don't say anything! She's gonna come back and do some awesome Kill Bill shit, am I right?

AUDIENCE: Isn't ignorance just bliss?

FORMER-FAN AUDIENCE: Wait, what are you talking about? Why are you all so silent? *looks at movie poster for Fifty Shades Darker* MOTHERF*CK- *head explosion*

E.L. JAMES: *takes notes* Cause of spontaneous combustion; a movie overly sexually stimulating.

SAM-TAYLOR JOHNSON: We can do better than this, can't we E.L.?

E.L. JAMES: You bet yer arse!

AUDIENCE: NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE *jumps off fanfiction cliff*

#fiftyshadessucks #fiftyshadesofgreysucks #anti fifty shades of grey #parody #fiftyshadesofgreyparody

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