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notjustjavierpena · 10 months

Note

dying for you to right more of javi and reader!!! maybe them discussing having a baby or javi forgetting to pull out?? love the breeding kind from your last fic ❤️❤️

Fever

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: In my mind, this is a prequel to All Roads Lead To Someone. It was supposed to be cutesy, but it turned a little filthy too and suddenly it felt like he wrote himself. I hope you enjoy it, friend!

Summary: The beginning journey of trying for a baby with your husband, Javier Peña.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), established relationship, you indulge in Javi’s breeding kink, daddy kink if you squint, unprotected sex, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, fluff & fun, domestic javier is sexy and charming and filthy, so much in love, riding, fingering, cumplay

Word count: 2.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48106387

Fever

Javier raised a brow as you presented him with an empty blister pack. He was sitting on your shared couch, waiting expectantly for an explanation to what he could only assume was a lousy gift.

Unsure of what to do, he took the blister pack from your hand, stared down at it with a puzzled look upon his face for a moment before looking up at you once again, “This is the surprise? You got me empty foil and plastic? Are you losing it?”

You had told him to sit down and stay seated as soon as he had arrived home from work, pulled at his jacket to undress him and pushed him towards the living room. There had been a snarky comment about how eager you were, though when you hadn’t straddled him, but rather left him again, he had drummed his thighs impatiently until you had returned.

“Shut up, I’m not losing it,” you bit back, snatching the pill packet from him again to which he frowned.

“Hey, give it back, I was just starting to like it,” he teased you.

You twirled the empty packet between your fingers for a few seconds, then took a deep breath, “It’s my birth control. All gone. I’ve not gotten any more at the drugstore. Like we talked about.”

Javier’s mouth fell open. He sunk further into the couch for a moment, trying to process what he had just heard and you allowed him the time it took to register the words you had spoken.

After a few more seconds, he suddenly sat up straight again. He placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself to stand, not giving you time to say anything as he quickly closed the distance between the two of you to kiss you. You dropped the blister pack on the floor.

His hands came up to cup your face, holding you gently as he covered your mouth with his own. You responded by gently grabbing a hold of his wrist with your free hand, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“When can we start trying?” Javier asked when he pulled back to catch a proper breath. He was beaming like a little boy on Christmas morning, grabbing a hold of you to lift you off the ground and into his arms. He spun the both of you around once and you squeaked his name.

“Well, the doctor said most people should be able to start trying already a month or two after stopping the pill, but he also said that anything could happen,” you explained when he put you down on the floor again, “Which means I’m open for business, baby.”

You leaned in to whisper the rest of your sentence in his ear, “Time to fuck a baby into me, Javier Peña.”

Then you pulled back with a satisfied smirk, because Javier was completely lost for words, and you found as you looked down, that he was also starting to get hard. It gave you reason to taunt him, “That gets you going, huh? To knock me up?”

“Don’t,” he groaned as a warning, holding his hand up to say stop.

“It does,” you giggled cutely, but there was something more devilish about it. You reached out for the buckle on his belt, carefully undoing it until you could pull the belt from its loops. You let it fall to the floor with a soft thud, going for his zipper afterwards, “I think we should practice our magic; we have to do it a lot in the coming months.”

Javier said your name softly and when you looked at his face, you saw him with damp eyes. It caught you off guard, “What? What’s happening? Is something wrong?”

“You’re actually gonna give an old dog like me a family,” he stated tenderly, and your first response was to chuckle softly in disbelief at him. He found your eyes and furrowed his brow.

“Hey,” you reached out to cup his cheek when you realized that he meant what he said, brushing it soothingly with your thumb, “Of course I am. Who else would be better than you? I can’t wait, baby. You’ll be the best daddy out there.”

Something shifted then. Javier leaned in to kiss you once more, this time with a little more confidence in the way that he carried himself. He reached for your clothes too now, pulling at your dress’ hem to lift it over your head, discarding it on the floor and finding your mouth afterwards again.

You pushed him backwards, mouth still on his, until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. You broke the kiss by pushing him to sit down again, stepping back afterwards to take off your shoes and socks, then undo your bra to slide it off your arms.

“Gonna be such a pretty momma,” he said as he watched you undress except for the wedding ring on your finger, lifting his hips off the couch to shove his jeans and underwear down over his thighs until they hung around his knees.

You hooked your thumbs into your underwear, pulled them down so you could shimmy out of them until they fell around your feet. Javier swore from his seat on the couch as you revealed your whole self to him. squeezing the base of his cock as he started hardening fully.

“C’mere.”

You went to straddle him with a sweet little smile, hooking your leg over his thighs until you had a knee on either side of his lap. You were positioned right above him.

Javier placed his hands on the back of your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh whilst you grabbed at the backrest of the couch. He looked up at you with his brown eyes which had gone darker with desire, “Gonna take real good care of you, make sure you have everything you need and want.”

“Yeah?” You said with a dazed expression as one of his calloused palms slid around your body and between your thighs. He teasingly dipped a finger into you, but only to the first knuckle.

“Oh yeah, so tell me what you want, mi amor.”

“You, Javi. Need nothing but you to cure me of this baby fever,” you moaned softly, gasping as he left you empty once more but even more so as he guided his cock into you in the next moment, “Need you to come inside.”

“Jesus,” he swore, finding your hips to fully push you down onto his length. You gasped at his generous girth, walls fluttering around him from the slight burn that it always caused as your body did everything it could to engulf him. You could feel his zipper gnawing into your ass, but it wouldn’t matter once you started moving on him.

When you finally felt the front of his thighs against the back of yours, you stopped moving to breathe in through your nose to steady your heartbeat. Your pulse was skyrocketing at the feeling of being so close to him despite the years that you had been together. No one had ever made you feel like this.

You kissed him deeply. He pressed his thumbs into the front of your hips, digging all ten digits into you possessively just to hold you in place as you sucked on his tongue, pulled at his bottom lip and moaned into his mouth. You’d move soon, you promised yourself, but not before his hands started to hurt a little from impatience.

“Ah,” you whined as you pulled back, but only to rest your foreheads together.

“Move your ass, baby,” he ordered with a slightly ragged breath, swatting your ass, “You’re gonna make me lose it.”

“Maybe I want you to,” you replied after gasping, but followed through on his command; lifted your hips off of him only to sink down dangerously slowly again. You moaned in unison, and whereas you would’ve liked to go so slow that you’d have him begging you to fuck onto him properly, your willpower to tease was gone at the first stroke of his cock inside of you.

You stared into his eyes, licking your lips as you wiggled a little on his lap. He groaned quietly, and you swirled your hips once and then twice, setting up a rhythm that had you both gasping soon.

“Yes, that’s it, use me, you look so pretty,” he panted as you lost yourself on his cock, leaning back a little to change the angle and riding him in earnest to chase an already climbing high; he always loved you milking him anyway. Plus, the sweet and domestic moment you had shared just minutes earlier was enough to have you both desperate for a hurried fuck. It would have you closer to your shared wish quicker than if you took it slow.

You held on tightly at the back of the couch, daring to lean just a little further back until the angling of your hips made his cock nudge against the front of your walls. You ground your hips down to feel the thick head of his cock ram into your g-spot, and you cried out his name before speeding up.

You started bouncing then, and Javier followed you by bucking his hips up into you until you moved in a well-known unison. There was no doubt: You just fit.

Pleasure tightened in your stomach as Javier fucked up into you, and you knew you wouldn’t last long. Everything about the situation and his body molding yours was intense. You needed to come, and you gave everything you had in you to reach your goal.

The thing that sent you over the edge was when he buried his face between your bouncing breasts, his open mouth kissing your cleavage before moving to one nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

“Javi,” you whimpered as a last warning.

And then you came, hard and fast, muscles clamping down on his stiff cock that responded by twitching inside of you. He was so close, and you egged him on.

“Fill me up, daddy, please,” you begged desperately, moving erratically onto his cock despite your sensitivity.

“Chica sucia,” he praised with a groan, looking up at your face again, “Gonna— mierda, gonna pump a baby into you… y-you want that?”

“Yes! Fuck yes, please,” you nodded, mouth hanging open from the sweet pain of oversensitivity.

Javier spilled inside of you a moment later. You stilled your hips, letting him bury himself inside of you as he pulsed through his orgasm and coated you with himself from the inside.

“You know— hah,” he cut off for a moment, catching his breath and leaning his head back against the backrest of the couch. He let go of one of your hips to run a hand over his face, fingers carding through his hair with a breathless chuckle, “I think that was quite the practice round.”

“We may have to repeat that, I think, just to be sure we were doing it correctly,” you responded, voice oozing with post-coital bliss.

When you were just about to get up on your feet again, Javier took your hand and pulled you back down. He carefully laid you down on your back, “Not going anywhere. We need to make sure that it works, mi amor.”

“Someone’s been doing their homework,” you noted, but grimaced at him a second later. He had gotten up to tuck himself back into his boxers and pull up his jeans. You wiggled a little on the leather couch, “I don’t want to scrub come off the couch later, and you, mister, you just want to look at me being naked in your living room.”

“Is that a crime?” He asked, reaching for your dress on the floor. He slid it under your ass, “There.”

“I’m not law enforcement, but I don’t think so,” you bend your legs and spread them for show, feeling his seed drip out of you and onto the dress. Javier sat down by your feet, looking at the mess he had made.

“I think the way you just behaved on top of me is illegal in at least one country,” he said absentmindedly, reaching between your legs to push his come back inside of you. You squirmed at feeling his fingers inside of you.

“Guess I’m a criminal then,” you moaned.

“Criminally sexy,” Javier turned his palm upwards to press his fingers against your g-spot, making a come-hither motion until you lifted your hips up from the couch at the stirrings of a second orgasm.

“Some scientists actually believed that you increased the chances if you made your wife come after pumping her full of come,” he told you as if he was giving a lecture, “The pelvic floor muscles were supposed to contract and make it fucking stick.”

“Yeah?” Your breathing was speeding up again, clit throbbing despite being untouched. The wet squelching of his fingers in your cunt were filthy, getting dirtier as another wave of your wetness mixed with his come.

“Yeah,” he was calm, working his fingers a little faster and more determinedly, “Come on, I can see you’re close, baby.”

“I’m coming, fuck— baby,” you suddenly announced, voice high-pitched as the first wave of pleasure washed over you. Your legs fell inwards and your hands came down between your thighs as if they could help with the intensity, but you cried as the world around you shrunk into nothing, but the feeling between your legs as you rode the wave.

“That’s it,” Javier chuckled as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping them on the dress. He let you breathe for a second before continuing, “Want a glass of water?”

“I can get my own water,” you started to get up, but Javier pushed you down on your back once more.

“You better get used to this, momma, stay,” he got up from the couch, heading for the kitchen, “One water coming up.”

You cursed him with a smile on your face as you heard glasses clinking in the kitchen drawer.

#javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javi pena #javier peña #narcos fanfiction #narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena one shot #javier pena smut #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #asks #husband!javi

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back2bluesidex · 8 months

Text

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:-

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes”

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago.

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements.

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin.

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you.

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous.

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself.

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear.

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin.

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback.

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-”

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not.

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless.

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing.

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity.

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?”

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?”

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well.

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring.

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you.

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth.

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?”

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already.

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly.

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak.

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down.

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all.

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you.

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear.

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name.

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight.

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination.

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water.

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way.

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him.

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably.

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.”

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night.

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case.

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm.

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you.

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of.

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside.

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone.

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world.

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line.

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess."

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you.

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more."

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.”

“Yeah. see you.”

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it.

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process.

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure.

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit.

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants.

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit.

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock.

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you.

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend.

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure.

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second.

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out.

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly.

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away.

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours.

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower.

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another.

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more.

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes.

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot.

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets.

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more.

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee Reasons behind seeking help: 1. Changes in behavior 2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares 4. Mild panic attacks

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table.

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face.

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.”

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight.

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.”

You nod understanding his point of view.

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks.

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe?

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers.

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair.

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin.

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything.

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door.

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend.

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests.

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll.

You almost coo at the sight.

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one.

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby.

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend.

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight.

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside.

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly.

Her cuteness makes you giggle.

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind.

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians.

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.”

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features.

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.”

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat.

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair.

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head.

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?”

Sua stays silent.

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones.

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth.

The change is welcomed anyway.

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it.

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet.

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question.

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer.

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing.

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies.

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds.

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well.

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung.

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung.

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?”

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad.

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes.

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods.

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?”

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.”

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly.

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.”

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him.

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk.

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months.

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.

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serverusslaype · 7 months

Text

Shameless, pt. 10

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

it's ya girl, back again...! 😼

hello, hi, how are you all? :) hope you are doing well! i'm feeling a lot better, i'm just congested now fml </3

this chapter is shorter, but not too short. as in it's not as long as the previous ones - they were like 6,000 words+, this is only 4,000-5,000 i think. The main reason is because it didn't really make sense to me to have it longer. so i hope you guys enjoy it!

thank you for all the likes, reblogs and most importantly the replies you left on the last chapter, they had me fucking dying oh my lord. 😭 you guys are so funny honestly. please keep leaving stuff like that it truly makes me laugh and makes my day 🌟🩷

Also guys what the fuck since when could you attach songs????? IM ABOUT TO GO BACK AND ADD SOME ON THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS BECAUSE WHATTT MIND BLOWN

without further ado......

You trailed behind McGonagall and Snape, keeping your eyes glued to the floor in front of you as your body was still on fire from your encounter with Severus.

"How on Earth did Black manage to slip into the castle?" Snape hissed, briefly looking at McGonagall who was striding beside him, her brows laced together with worry. A shiver slid down your spine as Snape's stern voice bounced off of the stone corridor, creating a rather dramatic echo. Only moments ago were you about to kiss the man, totally disregarding the fact that you were seeing Ben. What a fucking mess.

Then again, you thought, how could anyone not get lost in his eyes? Gods, you were such a pathetic excuse for a woman as of right now.

Severus's eyes were distracting, almost magnetic-like, as they beckoned you to look further within them, silently persuading you to forget about anything and everything that mattered to you. You were sure he didn't intend to do such a thing, or maybe that's what you were telling yourself, but in that intimate moment with him, you couldn't help but feel inclined to kiss him. Whether it was the heat of the moment or not, you were sure he wanted to kiss you too.

"We're not sure," McGonagall replied, sighing in a distressed manner as she ripped you from your self-destructive thoughts. "Even Albus is baffled as to how he eluded our defences." You flicked your eyes up to glance at Minerva. You sort of felt like you shouldn't be here, it's not like you'd be much help if Black appeared in front of you right this second - your knowledge and skill in combat was nowhere near the level of McGonagall and Snape, you were certain that you'd probably be a burden. The thought of slipping away down a corridor poked at your brain, taunting you.

"Y/N?" Minerva's worrisome voice once again pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up, face flushing as you met Severus's curious eyes. Quickly glancing away, you focused your attention on the Gryffindor Head of House, afraid of the outcome if you stared any longer at him.

"Yes?" You cleared your throat, ignoring the way Severus was side-eyeing you from behind Minerva.

"Would you mind going to check the greenhouses?" She asked. Severus snapped his head at Minerva, clearly in disagreement with her proposal. You frowned slightly at his quick reaction, a tad offended.

"Minerva, I don't think that's a wise idea." Severus said rather sternly, glancing at you for a brief moment. Your face felt hot again.

"Y/N is more than capable of handling herself, Severus." Minerva replied, matching his stern tone. Severus's jaw ticked as he huffed quietly, looking away from the the older witch, silently feuding with her decision. She turned to you and offered a reassuring smile. You appreciated the faith that she had in you, but you weren't sure it was... correctly placed, to put it lightly. You pursed your lips, slightly awkward, stuck between staring at Severus's doubtful eyes and Minerva's confident ones. As you met Snape's eyes, he looked away, his brows furrowing. Your stomach somersaulted, but you weren't sure it was in the positive way you wanted. "Severus, check the dungeons." Minerva ordered, and he obliged with a curt nod, leaving almost immediately without a blink at you.

You shut your eyes briefly, fighting the urge to scream. Fuck, did you just make it extremely awkward between you two? Or was that just him being his naturally dismissive self? Was he just saving face because the two of you were in the presence of McGonagall? Did he actually lean in to kiss you as well or... did you imagine that?

"Y/N?" Minerva called, once again pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hm?" You blinked, eyes widening quickly as you realised you had a job to do. "Sorry, I was just-"

The older witch gently touched your forearm, causing you to look up at her with twinkling eyes. "What's going on with you and Severus?" Minerva questioned you, keeping her voice low but curious. As you looked at her, hesitantly, you saw sadness in her eyes, or perhaps... pity? "I know what I saw." She added rather glumly. You were a little confused at her tone, why did she seem so... sad about this?

"I don't know what you're talking about." You choked out awkwardly. Her brows knitted together as she leant her head back slightly, almost like she was disappointed in you.

"Don't make me sound like a fool, Y/N." She said. That was the same tone she had taken with you when you were a student. You immediately tore your eyes away.

"I..." Your mouth stayed open for a moment, unsure of what to say. "It's... complicated."

"It always is with Severus." Minerva sighed through her nose, a little agitated. You looked back and tilted your head at her, confused.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Severus is a complicated man, Y/N. I'm not sure you're aware of just how far his... trauma... goes." She said quietly, her tone switching back to it's usual soft one. You broke your gaze from Minerva's and shifted it to the ground thoughtfully.

"Nothing will come of it," You shook your head as the image of Ben flooded your mind. You winced. "It was a mistake, I shouldn't have done that, it was just a spur of the... moment... sort of thing." You shrugged, trying to ignore the pain that was currently blossoming in your chest at the sound of your own words. "I'm, err, seeing someone, anyway."

"Oh?" Minerva quirked a brow at you. This must sound so disorderly to her. You're seeing someone, but she had walked in on you almost kissing Severus? She probably thinks you're some kind of harlot that can't keep her legs closed now. Jesus. Nice one.

"Um, Benjamin- Benjamin Bluewater, I'm sure you're familiar with that name..." You trailed off, shrinking as you awaited her answer. You knew he wasn't a fond topic amongst the teachers at Hogwarts back in the day, so you were always preparing yourself for a scolding or some sort of judgemental remark.

"Oh, yes, I remember Mr Bluewater." Minerva hummed thoughtfully, staring at you with her inquisitive eyes. You felt as if you had to explain yourself.

"In regards to the... thing you saw- Severus and I, it's complicated, like I said, there's this weird... tension between us-" You were rambling now, and you couldn't stop yourself. Merlin, someone stop you, please. "I can't really explain it, I mean I have feelings for him, but he didn't feel the same, then I-I met Ben, and then today happened, and... it's just a whole... mess, Minerva, I don't know what to do." You huffed, clearly distressed with the situation. You looked down at the floor, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, too worked up to even look your colleague and former-professor in the eye. "I'm sorry, I know there's another situtation at hand and I shouldn't be bothering you with such... trivial things but..." As you looked up, a soft smile had made it's way onto her face. You were rather shocked to see that. You'd expected another disappointed frown.

"Y/N," Minerva said soothingly, placing a calming hand upon your frantic ones, "as much as I respect and admire Severus, I think you should focus on Benjamin." She sighed softly. "Save your heart. Severus will only break it." A sad smile crossed her features, almost like she knew how you felt. Your mouth was parted - mainly from shock. Perhaps you should listen to Minerva, she'd known Severus for much, much longer than you have. You didn't know what to say, so you only nodded, closing your mouth slowly. "Now, I have to find Albus. Will you make sure the greenhouses are safe?"

"Of course." You swallowed, a feeling of uncertainty settling upon you.

"Lumos." You muttered, aiming your wand in the darkened room, the reflections of your wand glittering against the mossy windows. Your eyes darted around the greenhouse, searching for any sign of Black having been inside or nearby.

Everything seemed to be as you'd left it. All of your assignments were in the correct place, no plants nor pots had been knocked over and broken... no signs of forced entry... A sigh of relief slipped out of you, your tense body relaxing. Though, before you got too comfortable, the sound of a twig snapping behind you reversed all indications of your relief.

"Jesus!" You cried out, whirling around like a bullet, your frightened eyes softening a tad as they fell upon a tall, cloaked figure - none other than Severus Snape. "Please, can you not do that?!" You sighed, a hand flying to your chest in a feeble attempt to settle your racing heart as your cheeks painted themselves pink.

An amused smirk tugged at Snape's lips as his hands were clasped behind his back, staring down at you. "And not witness the terrified look upon your face?" Severus quipped, clearly relishing in your entertaining reaction. "I must disagree."

"At least let me know you're there, I could have hurt you." You replied with a glare, looking up to see an incredulous brow cocked up on Severus's face. You rolled your eyes at him. "Okay, I wouldn't have hurt you, but still, just... tell me next time." You huffed, rather exhaustedly. "Why are you here anyway? Aren't you meant to be checking the dungeons?"

"I did." Severus nodded, allowing his eyes to study your still-petrified, yet red face. You swallowed, feeling rather vulnerable under his gaze. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, debating whether to speak again. "I just wanted to make sure you were... alright."

"Oh," You choked, feeling like someone had just winded you. Did he really just say that? "I'm okay." You said, placing your wand back inside the pocket of your forest-green robes.

"I can see that." Severus muttered, blinking slowly at you. McGonagall's words uttered in your mind as you felt yourself becoming lost in his dark, black eyes once more.

'Save your heart. Severus will only break it.'

"We should head back." You cleared your throat as your soft voice pierced the blanket of silence that had fallen upon the two of you. "The greenhouses are clear. I doubt Black would choose to hide out here, it's not exactly... erm, tidy." An embarrassed grimace twisted your features as you glanced around the room.

"I don't suppose it helps when one is bombarded with... gifts." Severus said, spitting the last word out like it was poison. You glanced up at him, frowning.

"And what's wrong with that?" You folded your arms against your chest rather defensively.

"In my humble opinion," Severus gave a curt sigh through his nostrils, evidently disapproving of Ben's tendency to send you a copius amount of flowers amongst other things. "Few small, meaningful gifts are far more superior than a prolific amount of materialistic gifts." He finished, sneering slightly at the wilting flowers that were dotted around your greenhouse, all adorned with different handwritten notes. Inside, you agreed with Snape, and you wished that that was the case with Ben, but he just seemed to think that throwing gold and flowers at you would keep you interested. Of course, you didn't mind him sending you such things, you were grateful, but it was getting a little tiresome.

"Just because you don't get any." You teased, trying to hide the cheeky smile that tugged at your lips. Severus's head snapped to yours, an icy glare piercing your soul. You shivered slightly, a little sheepish as his sharp eyes dug into yours.

"I don't need gifts to satisfy my ego." He quipped, turning his nose up at you. Clearly, he didn't appreciate your light-hearted joke.

"Right, because talking down on people does that for you." You retorted, narrowing your eyes at Severus. Your patience was thin today, obviously.

"You seem to have grown a backbone, Y/N." Severus stepped towards you.

"I need one with you." You huffed, turning away from him. Severus watched curiously as you stepped away from him, his eyes trailing down your back, silently admiring your robes. He couldn't help but notice how pretty you looked in green. He thought it suited you better than your usual yellow and black. Perhaps he was just being selfish, imagining you in his House colour.

"Are you quite done?" Severus voiced. You cast a confused glance at him.

"With?" You frowned, cocking a brow expectantly.

"Having a tantrum." He replied, infamously cocking his brow at you.

"You're joking, right?" You scoffed at him, taking the bait like a fool. You turned yourself around to face him. "I made a lighthearted joke and you took it personally." The corners of his lips tugged upwards slightly in amusement. At this point it was too easy for him to wind you up. "What are you smiling about?" You stepped towards him, challenging him. He was getting underneath your skin.

"It's a pity that big mouth of yours doesn't match up with your brain." Severus said languidly, his deep voice sending a shockwave through your body. You had to swallow to compose yourself as your stomach began to tingle. He stood motionless in front of you, his hands still clasped behind his back, though you were blind to the fact that he was currently squeezing them harder the closer you got.

"Big mouth?" A gasp fell from your lips as you stared up at Severus, your eyes narrowing into a glare. "That's rich coming from you." You retorted, feeling your cheeks grow hot as you held his gaze. His lips twisted into a smirk as he closed the space between you with another step, that familiar smell of him overwhelming you.

"Is it?" Severus challenged you, silently enjoying your vain show of determination. He set his shoulders back as he stared down at you with scrutinising eyes, studying every inch of your pinkening face. He was getting a reaction out of you, and he was loving it.

"Yes." You panted. At this point, you were so worked up and distracted by his words and luscious scent that you hadn't noticed how unravelled you'd become. Your chest was heaving, breaths quiet and deep, your cheeks flushed unashamedly. You were a breathless mess. Your body was begging for Severus at this point. You were desperate for him to touch it, to even just lay a finger on it- anything. You had to relieve this ache.

"Please, enlighten me, Y/N." Severus whispered, leaning in towards you. A growl bubbled in your throat as you glared at him, your irked eyes boring into his. You were so tense and wound up that you couldn't talk. Your words were so jumbled together that you just couldn't form a coherent sentence without embarrassing yourself. "Hmm," Severus hummed, tilting his head at you, as if he was analysing you like an equation. "Didn't think so." He added smugly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

"You're such an arsehole." You exhaled, shoving him with a flat palm. He didn't budge. Instead, his hand flew to your wrist, gripping it like an iron vice. Your eyes widened as Severus's once-smirking lips fell into a serious, flat line, his eyes burning.

"Weren't you taught that you mustn't... touch... what... isn't... yours?" Severus tutted, articulating each syllable with a hint of venom. You wished that wasn't the case, but in this world, you rarely get what you want.

You clenched your jaw at Severus, tugging at your wrist in a vain attempt to free it. His grasp tightened, and you balled your fist. "Let go." You whispered as he tugged you towards him, just mere milimeters separating your bodies. Severus's eyes burned into yours, your body betraying you as it erupted into goosebumps; his face dangerously close to yours once more.

"Where are your manners?" Severus whispered back harshly, his hot breath dancing across your face once more, teasing you. You let your eyes flick between his, hesitating as they dropped down his face, eyeing his lips.

"Perhaps you need to teach me some." You taunted, breathless, your mind jaded. Not one appropriate thought was racing through your mind right now. Severus's brow quirked at your reply, quite obviously taken aback.

"An insufferable brat like you is unteachable." Severus spat back, baring his teeth. The insult didn't do it's job of hurting you, rather, it... aroused you. Your bodies were grazing against one another now, and the way his chest was scraping against yours was sending you into overdrive.

"You wanna bet?" You growled as he released your wrist after one more relentless tug from you. Severus kept his arm raised for a moment, his palm splayed as he glared down at you, your noses almost as close as they were just hours ago. Silence encased the two of you again, only your irregular, ragged breathing being the one thing that the two of you could hear. He was the first to break it.

Gods, you were so close. At this very moment, you had no care left inside of you. You were shameless for him. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore.

After several insufferable seconds, you threw your lips against his; the electric jolt that shot through you almost unbearable as a stifled moan slipped from your lips. A muffled grunt growled at the back of Severus's throat as his hands flew to your hips, kissing you back with such thirst and force you were worried he'd leave bruises around your mouth. His long, slender fingers dug into your clothed flesh like the desperation of a starved man as he pulled you taut against him, his left hand gliding down your arm to grasp messily at your hands, guiding them to sit around his neck. You allowed your fingers to comb through his thick, raven locks; nails grating at his scalp, prompting a delectable, throaty groan from him. Your legs tingled at the sultry noise. The rough, black buttons of his frock dug into your bared chest as he hauled you closer with greedy hands, the coarse texture scraping against your skin, bound to leave thin red scratches across your breast. A strangled cry fell from your lips as Severus teethed your bottom lip, playfully pulling at it. He released it and pressed another heated, sloppy kiss against your swollen mouth, your lids fluttering as you felt yourself melt into his addictive touch.

Severus pulled away from you, a begging whine falling from your lips. "So needy." He teased, breath hot and dangerous.

"Shut up." You muttered through gritted teeth, pulling him back onto you, your body igniting once more his lips met yours.

Pressing your aching body against his, Severus's cold hand slipped up to the back of your hot neck and brought your face impossibly closer to his; your spine aflame as delicious chills shot down it. With burning lungs, you parted your lips, darting your wet tongue into his mouth. Severus let out a heavenly whimper as your tongue licked against his, sending a rush of blazing heat through his shuddering body. Suddenly, he was pushing you backwards, lips still locked in a ferocious fight as the backs of your thighs hit the edge of your desk. Severus's hands swiftly slid from your waist and hooked themselves beneath your bum, inducing a breathy gasp to fall out of you as he lifted you up onto the wooden desk, the two of you disregarding everything that lay upon it. Including handwritten notes from Ben. You felt him smirk against your quivering mouth at the sensual noise that left you, clearly proud at what a panting, desperate mess he'd made you.

As he shuffled you onto the desk, your back knocked over a silver candle holder.

"Careful." You whispered against him, your eyes opening to shoot him a warning glare, though a hint of playfulness was hidden within your lustful voice.

"Shut up." Severus demanded, ultimately silencing you as he forced his mouth on yours, drowning you with his devilish tongue.

Your hands snaked down from the smooth skin of his neck, heading towards his chest, fingers clamping around the edges of his black cloak. Tugging him closer, you laid back on your desk with interlocked lips and Severus gladly obliged, leaning over you, planting a steadying hand beside your head. His other hand caressed your waist in a back-and-forth manner, feeling you, sending your body into a frenzy. Your wet, bruised lips fought against his, noses pressing into each other's cheeks. He pulled another moan from you as he gently brushed his hand against the side of your breast, teasing you.

Before Severus could trace his fingers down your middle, the crack of a branch in the distance ripped the two of you from your intense, sweaty encounter. Immediately, you and Severus pulled away from each other's faces with an audible, wet smooch, the both of you glancing to the source of the noise; breaths still heavy, hands still glued to one another's bodies intimately.

"What was that?" You whispered, fingers tightening around the silky material of his cloak. Instinctively, Severus's hand tensed around you protectively as he let his eyes search the dark; foggy mind racing.

"I don't know," He whispered back, turning back to look at you underneath him after he deemed it safe. You looked ethereal. Your hair was messily splayed-out behind your head, parts of it drooping over the opposite edge of the desk he was leant over. Your cheeks were red and flushed, lips swollen and pink, almost bruised from how harshly Severus had attacked them. After several seconds of admiring his work, he spoke. "Look at you," he hummed, a dangerous smirk painting his face, "what a beautiful mess." He let his eyes rake over your shuddering body, lingering on the red marks that scattered your bare chest. If possible, you blushed harder, your hands reluctantly flying up to fold against you, framing your breasts almost perfectly. Severus bit back a groan. "We should head back, I wouldn't want the others to think Black had had his way with you."

You rolled your eyes at him, a little irked. He'd learned perfectly well how to get under your skin. "What, you don't think I can hold my own against him?"

"Certainly not." Severus answered simply, stepping back from you and offering a hand to help you up. You wanted to protest against his answer, however, you knew he was right. There was no way you could fend off Sirius Black of all wizards. You'd just become another statistic to him. As you took Severus's hand and slipped off of the desk in one swoop, his eyes fell on the notes from Ben that you'd been laid upon. He let out a disapproving hum. You frowned and followed his eyes. Your stomach dropped and your body ran cold at the now slightly damaged notes.

"Shit." You exhaled as you stared down awkwardly at the ripped parchment.

"Shit, indeed." Severus repeated, side-eyeing you with a cocked brow. You glared at him. "Who would have thought, committing adultery with another professor at Hogwarts could be such an interesting feat?" He teased, stepping towards you, intentionally brushing his shoulder against yours.

You swallowed thickly, trying to ignore how close Severus was to you. "It's not like it was serious," You sighed curtly, running a stressed hand through your hair. "I mean, we've only been seeing each other for like, almost... four... months..." You trailed off, your shoulders feeling rather heavy as a strong wave of guilt flooded you. Were you really trying to justify your actions?

"Four months?" Severus sounded impressed.

"...Yes." You replied, avoiding his amused eyes. "You can wipe that smirk off your face right now." You scolded, casting a daring glance his way. For a moment, you admired how he looked - his hair was a little scruffy from where you'd had your hands buried in it, lips partially reddened from how you'd kissed him only moments ago. A hot blush took to your cheeks as you stared at him, your mind reeling back to how he'd grabbed you and pulled you so close against him, like he was scared you'd disappear into thin air.

"We can decide what to do later." Severus stated, slipped his wand from his sleeve and casting Lumos, illuminating the once-darkened greenhouse. "For now, let's return. I'm sure Minerva is wondering where we've disappeared to."

We? Did you hear him correctly?

Before you could question him, he already had his hand pressed against the small of your back, ushering you out of the greenhouse and back towards the castle entrance.

"I've searched the Astronomy Tower and the owlery, sir, but there's nothing there." Filch's decrepid-like voice came from in front of you as Severus escorted you into the Great Hall, his hand falling from your back as you neared Dumbledore and the other staff. You felt a little bummed at the loss of contact, but you didn't exactly want to out yourselves immediately. Speaking of that, you weren't even sure if anything was going to happen between you and Severus, maybe he'd change his mind again like he did last Christmas...

As you glanced around, you noticed every single student was asleep in the Hall, gentle snores slipping from their peaceful faces. You felt a little relieved that they were all safe and sound.

"Yes, the third floor is clear too, sir." Professor Flitwick said to Dumbledore, his beady eyes peering at the old man through his glasses. As the sound of yours and Severus's footsteps began to echo in the large hall, Flitwick turned, staring at the two of you. Clasping his hands together, he watched you and Severus stroll towards him.

"The greenhouses are empty as well, sir." You spoke, offering a polite smile to Flitwick. He happily returned it, averting his attention back to Dumbledore.

"Very good, thank you." Dumbledore acknowledged you with a small smile as you reached him. You stopped just beside Flitwick, your stomach flipping as Severus continued passed you. His addicting scent glided along with him, a pink tinge staining your cheeks as you inhaled. You turned away from Flitwick, afraid he'd notice your poorly-hidden reaction.

Severus was next to speak as he halted himself beside Dumbledore. "And I've done the dungeons, Headmaster, no sign of Black, nor anywhere else in the castle." He said, his deep baritone ruffling your feathers. You cleared your throat, quietly, glancing away from him. You could hardly control yourself right now. That moment in your greenhouse had really messed with your self-control. Severus glanced at you sideways, a tiny smirk picking at his lips. He must have noticed your crumbling composure.

Flitwick eyed the two of you, a perplexed expression crossing his features.

"I didn't really expect him to linger." Dumbledore replied, hooking Severus's attention from you. Flitwick used this moment to slip away to keep a watchful eye over the slumberous students.

"Remarkable feat, don't you think? To enter Hogwarts on one's own... completely undetected?" The Potions Master drawled as he and Dumbledore began to slowly walk forwards. You caught up to them and settled yourself beside Severus, sheepishly glancing up at him, your hands settling in front of your hips. He glimpsed at you, cocking a brow questioningly, a tingling sensation building in your stomach as you stared up at him.

"Quite remarkable, yes." The Headmaster agreed, his hands floating behind his back, subsiding as they intertwined themselves. The three of you continued walking between the rows upon rows of sleeping students, your shoulders brushing against Severus's now and again.

"Any ideas on how he might've managed it?" You asked quietly, your voice curious but concerned. Dumbledore glanced at you with his wise eyes, rather surprised at you. When the older wizard was around, you tended you keep quiet. However, with Severus beside you, a newfound confidence had arisen within you.

"Many. Each as unlikely as the next." He replied, turning back to focus on the path in front of him.

Severus spoke again, his voice rattling you. It felt as if someone had let off a grand show of fireworks in your chest. "You may recall, prior to the start of term I did express concerns about your appointment of Professor Lupin-"

Dumbledore quickly interrupted him, his voice strict and unforgiving. "Not a single professor inside this castle would help Sirius Black to enter it," he said, looking to Severus, "no, I'm quite convinced this castle is safe, and I'm more than willing to send the students back to their houses." You glanced away for a moment, zoning out as you glazed over the large stained window that had the crest of all four houses set within it. Your eyes lingered on Slytherin and Hufflepuff, flicking between them thoughtfully. Could a Slytherin and Hufflepuff truly work together?

As you'd stopped to admire the window, Dumbledore and Severus had continued on forwards. You stood still, your eyes falling onto Severus's tall, black cloaked figure, a deep sigh leaving your nostrils. Was this a good idea? Crossing the line with a colleague? Or was this a recipe for disaster? You wanted it to work out, but you had your doubts. Minerva's words were etched deep into your mind, and they slowly slithered out of the woodworks, chanting in your head tauntingly.

'I'm not sure you're aware of just how far his trauma goes.'

'Save your heart. Severus will only break it.'

'Focus on Benjamin.'

Oh, Merlin, Ben.

What were you going to do about him...? Do you tell him you kissed Severus? Do you just break it off silently? No, he deserves to know. You needed to be an adult and admit to your wrongs, whether it made you look like a sack of shit or not. You'd made your bed, and now you had to lie in it.

Just as you were going to return to Severus's side, a familiar voice called your name.

"Y/N!"

You turned around, your head snapping towards the voice like a bolt of lightning. All colour had drained from your face as your widened eyes became glued onto the one person you did not want to see right now.

Ben jogged towards you, a worried expression twisting his features.

No, please, no, not right now. This could not be happening right now...

talk about perfect timing, hey?

sorry this was such a short chapter!! i wanted to make it longer, but what better than to keep you in suspense? i hope you have partly forgiven me for this chapter... </3

let me know what you thought!! your replies on the previous chapter had me rolling omfg.

daily reminder that i love you all and to make sure you are taking care of yourselves!! thank you all so much for your continued support, it really means a lot to me, and i hope i am doing this story justice, i have- well, had a plan, but it's sort of gone a different way... however, i’m liking it. :) i hope you are too!

Part 11!

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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 14.

Summary: Our second look through Oliver's eyes as he thinks back on the night he and Felix get champagne drunk on the bridge, and then when he gets to Saltburn. Looking around both Y/N and Felix's rooms, he gets to know more about them, and finally he meets the Catton Family.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, reader is said/implied to be high for some of the chapter (based on my experiences & understanding of weed)

A/N: 8506 words. you have all deserved a good feed and i am here to provide. sorry it's been a week, the dam broke, things are looking good in my personal life which is nice, and i am BACK on main fic nonsense. we get another Ollie POV, please let me know what you think, im so excited to have everyone at the estate and hanging out!! got big plans going forward!! excited to be setting it all up!! yeah please feedback, my darling friends!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Sometimes Oliver feels like he was put on this Earth solely to exist in Felix Catton's affectionate gaze. Everything else in life is just filler.

That night on the bridge, he and Felix in suits, drunk on champagne and bathed in the twilight of the evening, will haunt him, he's sure. He welcomes it with open arms, surfacing when his mind is idle and elsewhere. Felix smiling at him, Felix trying to bring him closure even if he doesn't really need it, Felix hanging on his every word, ever story he would fabricate to keep Felix's eyes fixed on him and only him. Felix so close, Felix with his arm around Ollie, Felix's thigh pressed up against his as they sat alone on the edge of the bridge.

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Oliver feels dwarfed by him, never more so than these moments where Felix insists on occupying Oliver's personal space, and then some. But he'll never complain; Felix's affection is intoxicating, addicting even. To be so wrapped up in it, in him, it's bliss, though Oliver never wanted to seem needy for such affection, that's why he waits for these moments, for Felix to make first contact. He wonders if Felix had realised the way you so quickly had in the beginning.

Everyone reaches out for Felix, everyone else appears so desperate. Its why Oliver's always held back from touching him, always waited and let Felix make the first move. Felix was made to be wanted, he basks in it; Oliver gives him the chance to want. Isn't there a thrill in that? A novelty?

And to be wanted by Felix... That was a gift in itself too.

Oliver had, admittedly, been worried that he'd lost his chance at that. After sleeping with you, Felix holding him at arm's length, he could feel his grip slipping. Plucking at the strings of Felix's clear saviour complex was enough to claw back into his life, but he now knew his place was precarious, and most tentative of all was everything about you.

So he'd held back from you. On purpose. Often distinctly, even when you'd give these confused, disheartened looks. He tried not to look at you in those moments; his focus was Felix, Felix seemed harder won.

But when he'd tried to apologise on the bridge - at first he wasn't going to bring it up, but it was dark and he was reasonably drunk and the only person who's ever smiled like Felix had been smiling at him in that moment had been you - Felix had, at first, laughed him off. No, he can feel it now, weighing on him; he needs to balance the scales. He wants Felix so bad it aches in his bones, but Oliver knows his want goes beyond just the beautiful boy by his side. Every part of you, how you interact with the world, interact with him, the way you exist and exude confidence and love, drew Oliver in like a moth to a flame. If Felix is the hook, you were the line. The bait, and the trap. The sun, and it's warmth. He wants to always be the focus of your loving, attentive gaze. Always wants you to want him too.

Oliver is the helpless fly in the web you and Felix have woven, to be so lovingly obsessed with you both as you are, and yet still drawn further in, to love the love you share. He feels trapped and utterly helpless against his feelings for you both.

So he has to make it right. Has to make it... even? Was that how to make it right?

But Felix is different on the bridge. Different to the jealous creature he tried so clearly to hide in the weeks before. Something had changed.

"You never need to apologise for making them happy," he says easily, affectionately. Oliver tries to be insistent, that he never meant to get between the two of you. He's rambling and tipsy, but not enough to miss the faint choked noise of what Oliver could have sworn was intrigue that Felix makes at that, but he knows better than to dwell or comment on it. Instead, Felix claps him on the back; "you wanna make it up to me we can say you owe me one," he says far too easily.

"Owe you one what?" Oliver frowns, playing oblivious for a moment as he takes a sip of the champagne before Felix gives him a cheeky wink and a grin.

"Shag, of course."

Oliver does a spit take with surprise, not having thought Felix would be so casual and genuine about it, almost falling off of the bridge in the moment. Felix catches him, arm around him as he laughs through an apology.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry mate," he wheezes, carefully clapping Ollie on the shoulder, "also I apologise for assuming, poor form, sometimes I forget people can be weird about these things- not saying you'd be weird, we've just never spoken about this kind of thing."

It speaks to how much he must genuinely trust Oliver, considering how light the conversation remains. Or perhaps it's the bubbly. Still, Oliver has a little bit of an inkling about what this kind of thing may be. But part of him needs Felix to say it, to confirm his suspicions, to keep stringing him along with further crumbs of hope.

"Assuming what?"

There's a single moment, the way in which Felix looks at Oliver out of the corner of his eyes, smile briefly frozen on his face as he must be considering the weight of what he's about to say. Its in the moment that follows, when Felix laughs almost self consciously and withdraws his hand that Oliver wonders how out Felix is. Oliver had always just kind of assumed - hoped - on the basis of his relationship with Y/N, but it occurs to him that the general perception of Felix, the talk and rumours and gossip that surrounded him, never really entertained the idea that he was actually queer. Felix's affection towards everyone in his life was simply a by-product of who he was, and you're his best friend - and his cousin, according to Farleigh - so of course you don't count, and otherwise Felix Catton was a known lady's man, right?

Not quite, it seemed.

"That you'd even be into guys like that," it sounds so easy when Felix says it, like Oliver can't see the tension in his shoulders as he reaches over, taking the bottle of champagne back. Its almost empty. Oliver doesn't mind if he finishes it.

Felix looks at the sky, at the stars.

Oliver thinks about the VHS tape of Maurice that he stole from a rental store after looking at the back cover. He'd kept it stashed in his sock drawer and watched every week under the cover of absolute darkness until it literally became unplayable. Yes, Oliver liked guys, and spent his teen years having just as many lewd fantasies about boys with posh accents, and charmingly youthful features, and floppy, brown hair, as he did about girls with big, dark eyes, and high, perfect cheek bones, in bright red wedding dresses. His sisters hated Beetlejuice, thought it was gross, but he and his mother would watch it together on occasion, sharing a blanket his gran had crocheted, and a bowl of popcorn. She'd get all giggly over Alec Baldwin, while Oliver couldn't help but fall for Winona Ryder for the duration of the film, every time.

For a moment, he thinks of the sunlit kitchen he grew up in, and his mother cooking Sunday lunch with a record playing. The last Sunday before he left for Oxford. In the yard, he can hear his father mowing the lawn, and he's sure Emily is in her room packing for her own journey back to her third year of studying. But Oliver comes out of his room just as Jump in Line (Shake Senora) begins to play. Serendipity. Already excited by the song, his mother looks up from the dishes, and practically lights up at the sight of her son. She's going to ask him to dance. He's going to say yes. They're both going to love this moment; she says it's their song, and Oliver dances along to their song. When it's over, Oliver won't admit that he's disappointed it had to end, but he tells his mother he'll miss her too when she hugs him especially tightly. For that one moment he hadn't ached to leave the way he'd been for months, for years.

Looking now at the rock in the rubbish that represented his father, there's a momentary pang of guilt for lying so dramatically about him he hadn't been expecting. So he pushes it out of his mind.

Felix finishes the bottle, and Oliver watches him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Effortlessly beauty.

Oliver wants to focus on his future, not his past.

"Haven't got too much experience with 'em, but that doesn't stop me from liking them well enough," feeling especially bold, he levels a sly smile at Felix, "so if it's all good with you, maybe we do say I owe you one."

Felix blushes the most beautiful scarlet as he barks a loud, pleased laugh. But most importantly, he relaxes.

"It's not that hard," he offers so nonchalantly, amending with a sheepish grin, "well it is, that's part of the point -" but Oliver can't help himself.

"I said I didn't have a lot of experience, didn't say I was completely inexperienced."

"No, I know," Felix's voice turns all smug and teasing, and Oliver can feel his face beginning to heat up as he realised the implications of Felix's tone, "I've heard rave reviews." Oliver had taken the time to have his fun, to have a few hook ups here and there in the past year, usually with girls or guys from town or other campuses who had no idea who he was otherwise. There's only one person who'd be giving him rave reviews, as Felix had called them.

Huh. It's quite the compliment; he had gone out of his way to give you the kind of attention he suspected few people ever bestowed upon you, but rave reviews? What had you actually told Felix?

Instead, considering that this still feels like potentially rocky territory, he tries to bring it back.

"It's one of the few ways I ever really learned how to make people feel appreciated," his gaze drops with his tone, and hopes that Felix takes the bait. The threads that tie back to the story of his unfortunate upbringing, but also perhaps the threads that subconsciously tie his attitude and behaviour to you in Felix's mind. Even if you don't say it, he knows it's part of how you operate, and he's willing to bet that Felix had picked up on that too.

It works. Felix wraps an arm around him, assuring him that he has so much to offer the world. God, he sounds so sincere when he says it; if Oliver hadn't knowingly baited him into the compliment, he would have believed him entirely. At the very least he basks in how good it is to hear Felix say.

They talk through the night, Oliver tentatively feeling his way towards his goal, the opportunity to spend Summer with Felix too, to make sure this connection doesn't wither in the interim. Of course he plays at being humble, at refusing the offer despite how clearly uninhabitable the sob story home he'd made up for himself was, but just as he'd predicted, Felix, ever the saviour, refuses to take no for an answer. Apparently his mother has people stay for months at a time anyhow. Oliver wonders idly if that's where Felix got it from.

"Y/N will be so pleased, I can tell you that," Felix mentioned with fondness. Of course Oliver had anticipated that you would probably be spending at least some of your Summer with them, but he's surprised that when he enquires further, Felix admits, "yeah they live with me at Saltburn when we're not at school, have for ages now."

"What, all the time? They really are a ward of the Saltburn Estate?"

Felix wears a strange little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes; there's an unfamiliar kind of melancholy that doesn't look quite right on him, Oliver thinks, as Felix shrugs again.

"Some people's parents just aren't meant to be parents."

For a split second Oliver feels a rush of guilt as he comes to realise he may have fabricated a life for himself that you had actually lived. In the moment, however, he dips his head, a sign that he understands, that he agrees.

"Then we're lucky to have you."

Felix throws an arm around his shoulders, pulls him in tightly and presses a kiss to the side of his head, assuring him it's no trouble at all.

"What are friends for?"

Yes, this moment would be burned into his brain; Felix so warm beside him, Felix smiling against his temple, Felix champagne drunk and willing to share his life, if only for six weeks. Every fibre of Oliver's being is willing it to work out, willing it to be more than just these six weeks -

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Except the minute he knocks on the doors of the house that looms so large he feels like he's about to be swallowed whole by it, he feels like he's failed a test. The look in the terrifying doorman's eyes, his tone of voice, the unflinching scrutiny when faced with Oliver's continual awkwardness and questions, makes him feel like he's failed several more in rapid succession.

Oliver's actually pretty sure he's never been quite so glad to see Felix as the exact moment he calls out to Oliver with absolute joy. Which is saying something. It's never felt like Felix is judging him, at least not in a way he can't pass. Thank fuck. Felix, in this moment, is the only one who matters, he tells himself.

That being said, Oliver had been expecting you to be by Felix's side when he'd come bounding in to save him from Duncan's scrutiny. That's generally where he's come to expect you. Not that he wasn't grateful for Felix giving the tour, it was just... unexpected.

Honestly, when you appear from a door on the other side of the long gallery, opposite Felix's bedroom, Oliver's surprised by how relieved he is to see you. The room you've exited seems to be themed in pale purple from the brief glimpse Oliver sees, and you've got a leather bound folder in your arms, but neither of those is nearly so interesting as the look in your eyes. Looking back, Oliver sees Felix lounging in his doorframe, looking between you both with patient amusement.

"Ollie!"

Oliver's pretty sure no-one in his life has ever sounded this excited to see him. The only person who comes closes would be Felix, five minutes ago.

"Ollie, oh Ollie - Fi, hold this," you pass off your folder to Felix, who of course takes it without argument, before Oliver's swept up in a tight hug, "you're early, you smell nice," you hug him so enthusiastically the two of you spin for a moment, before pulling back, holding him at arm's length like you're assessing the state of him. Instead, you beam, holding his hands as you turned to Felix, "Fi, Ollie's here! We love Ollie!"

This time when you meet Oliver's gaze, he's surprised to see not just love, but want. You'd worn that look in the weeks before the two of you had fucked, like all you could think about was how you'd once begged him to want you, and how he of course admitted he did. When had he started missing this look in your eyes? All he can think about is that night in the warmth of your bed, the way you'd sounded so fucking certain and needy - of course I want you - and how he can see it in your eyes again now. For a moment his mind and resolve is fuzzy; why had he ever stopped reaching out for you?

"We do love Ollie," Felix agreed with further amusement, and that's when he remembers. Except... this isn't the jealous version of Felix that had shown up in the aftermath. This was the Felix who'd brushed off Oliver's apologies about the whole ordeal on the bridge and proceeded to overtly, if jokingly, flirt with him. Already he feels just a touch more relaxed in this new dynamic that was being set up for the Summer.

Actually, Oliver, for just a second, thinks he may have died and gone to heaven.

"Fuck, Ollie, look at your nails," he hears next, however, and it immediately shatters the illusion as he pulls his hands away from you and your judgemental eyes.

"Don't be mean," Felix chides, and you look up with surprised, as if you hadn't realised your own less than complimentary tone. Looking between Oliver and Felix, there's apology in your eyes.

"Sorry Ollie," you're quick to offer, and he awkwardly tries to act like he's not embarrassed, "I'll give you a manicure, I can paint your nails; we can match!" You smiled brightly, hands pressed flat and warm to his chest all of a sudden, "I match Fi's shirt today; Farleigh painted my nails -" your eyes go wide as if you'd just remembered; "Farleigh; shit."

You run for the door to the blue room. Oliver, deeply confused, watches you go. Then, he hears Felix sigh with fond exasperation, holding out the leather folder. A moment later you burst through the door again.

"Documents. Shit. Thanks, Fi!"

And you're off again.

"Is this... how they normally are just at Saltburn?" Oliver finally asks with faint concern, looking from the door to Felix in the darkened doorframe.

"My lovely cousin is an atrocious influence on our dear Y/N," Felix said with incredible diplomacy. But Oliver's mind momentarily catches on the wording.

Our Y/N.

Just like before, a strange thrill, a rush; he remembers the look in your eyes when he'd first said 'Our Felix' to you. An exclusive kind of possessive, one you'd willingly share with Oliver. He liked this dynamic, he wondered how hard he'd have to push it to get beyond the simple semantics.

We love Ollie!

We do love Ollie.

Perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult at all.

"What do you mean?" He asks instead, and Felix turns to him with that same amused smile.

"They're fine, don't worry mate, they're just high is all," clearly Felix's feelings are mixed on the subject; Oliver knows he has no problems with getting high himself, so he suspects Felix cares more about Oliver's first impressions of his home and his family than he was wanting to let on. You were his right hand after all. There's something endearing about how much he seems to want Oliver to want to be here. Which he does, for the record.

"So this is your room?" Oliver enquires, shooting for brightness, despite the momentary awkwardness. He watches the tension leave Felix's shoulders. It's enough for Oliver, and his gaze drifts, roams around and tries to catalogue every single piece of Felix he can glean from the clutter. Even with an army of servants there's something unkempt about how he decorates the otherwise old and ornate space. CDs he'll spend time poring over, stacks of books, and trinkets, and tchotchkes. Felix even has a balcony; stone railings and enough decorative chairs, and even a lounge and small table, for company.

Here and there in the room itself, however, a few things seem out of place; shoes that didn't look like Felix's sitting neatly by the door, two dressing gowns, one maroon and tossed over the bed, the other in navy and draped more deliberately over the end of the bed. Two glasses of water, one on either side of the bed. Tell-tale signs that clue Oliver in before Felix even confirms it -

"Mine and Y/N's, yeah," he says it so easily, so nonchalantly, no bothering with pretence here at Saltburn, "you'll be staying just next door," Felix continues on with a wide, easy smile over his shoulder as he continued to flit through the rooms, catching light, voice echoing amongst the decorative walls.

"Bathroom," he offers, before turning, adding, "we're going to be sharing a bathroom, by the way, I hope you don't mind," and Oliver finds himself drawn to the sight of the ornate bath, as if on purposeful display in the middle of the room, "otherwise you'd be miles away on the other end of the house," Felix explains, continuing on without even considering his words as he says them. No, of course Oliver didn't mind.

All Oliver can think of is everything that simple sentence implied. Closeness. Implicit want. A sudden flash in Oliver's mind as Felix continues through to the dressing room, of sweat beading along skin and hands clutching desperately at the cool, porcelain edge of the tub, of water sloshing and spilling and overflowing, and the sound of breathless moaning -

He tries to focus, tries to simply watch Felix's hands as he taps idly on the red walls of the dressing room as he lead into what Oliver can only assume to be his room. He stays out of his head, leans into the moment, and lets himself relax as Felix gestures broadly, brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Your room!"

It's bright, all wide, open windows looking over the beautiful grounds of Saltburn, honey coloured wood and lamps that glow in such a way that he was reminded of Oxford. Already someone's brought his suitcase up, set it out at the end of the bed; he'd get to unpacking that later tonight, for now he took his time relaxing into the space. Felix had already sat himself down, seemingly at home in the old, wooden rocking chair, watching Oliver, almost like he was trying to hide his nervous anticipation.

"I'm really glad you're here, mate," for just a moment, Felix sounds more honest than he'd been since Oliver had arrived. There's something in his eyes that Oliver hadn't been anticipating, in the brief moment in which their gazes meet. There's a kind of arrogance, Oliver thinks, to calling even a sliver of it something like love, but it's adoration and appreciation nonetheless. It's gone in a flash, too brief to be anything serious, he thinks once more as Felix stands, "right, I will, er... I'll leave you to it."

And Oliver is quiet. It's a kind of reverence, or perhaps it reads like shock and awe at the whole place, but he listens quietly as Felix tells him about his mother's aversion to stubble and ugliness and piercings and -

"Anything else I should know about?" Finally he asks, sensing Felix was close to rambling on a nervous tangent. Thankfully, Felix actually seems relieved by the interruption, assuring him that there was nothing else to worry about.

Felix tells Oliver that he just needs to be himself, that his family will love him. That it's relaxed. Oliver loves Felix dearly, but doubts he, a man who rarely seems to be anything but relaxed, would be the best judge of that. Especially in a place like this. Still, Oliver smiles like he believes him, and watches the way Felix hangs himself back from the door on his heels, almost like a little kid, telling Oliver that his family will be in the library when he's ready.

Library?

His mental image of Saltburn grows with each moment. Soon it will overwhelm him, he's sure.

So he tries, just for the moment, to get acquainted with the room he's been given. His own, honey-coloured piece of Saltburn, if only for the Summer. Hopefully beyond, that dreamy little voice of want whispers in the back of his mind. Another flash of desire runs through him, the image of a quiet evening on Felix's balcony, a purple sky and a glass of scotch, book in one hand and Felix's head in his lap. He'd be too big for the little sofa, legs hanging off the edge, but he's comfortably fallen asleep with Oliver's fingers carding through his hair; when you drape yourself over Oliver's shoulders, there's loving affection in the way you call them 'your boys' -

God he'd been entertaining these fantasies for months, sure, almost since he'd met you and Felix, but never this vivid, never so detailed or hard to push away, to pretend like he'd never had them when he next tries to look you both in the eyes.

Yeah, me and Y/N's room. You're right next door. We'll be sharing a bathroom.

This is either going to be a dream, or the hardest Summer of his life. Pun entirely intended.

The room itself is rather charming, once Oliver finally breaks free of his own fantasies. Charming in a different way to the rest of the house, but in a way that was hard to put his finger on at first. Saltburn was like if a place could put on a performance of itself, none of it felt lived in, or at least, not for a very long time. Except Felix's room, it had his youth and carelessness that gave it a feeling of home, as, for some reason, did Oliver's.

Except then he sees them. Then he understands. There's space stickers on the top drawer of what he can only assume is the otherwise expensive bedside table. Some are peeled off, some even leaving the ugly, half-peeled, paper residue of planets and stars and little cartoon astronauts. The second of the two drawers is in much the same state, but depicting a faded sea creature theme. It's so unexpectedly, joyfully childish. There's two books in the top drawer, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories, and a copy of Emma. Oliver swallows hard, trying not to wonder what you must mean by that. Otherwise the drawers are empty, almost hotel-like in it's severe starkness.

There's other little things, however. Fairy lights curled up and around the headboard that glow a comforting, warm white once he finds their switch. A digital clock at odds with the rest of the room's aesthetics, red numbers glowing in the afternoon light. The painting on the wall above the bookshelf that looks far more modern than anything else he'd seen so far on the walls, a rich, blue night sky glittering with stars, and a dreamy silhouette of a figure with a cigarette almost glowing orange against the darkness. Despite the vagueness of the figure, there's a comfort, a kind of love with which they'd been captured that Oliver can somehow feel in his chest when he looks at it.

The little bookshelf itself in the corner is filled with titles he can imagine you specifically enjoying, but a few anomalies here and there - books on botany and Edwardian flower code stick out in particular. It's completed with a small stack of CDs and a CD player gathering dust on top. When he crouches down, however, he's surprised to see an old, portable cassette deck taking up space on the bottom row of the bookshelf, mostly hidden behind several stacks of what appeared to be blank cassette tapes, crammed into the very corner, almost out of sight.

How strange. How... human.

There is an echo of someone else in this room, but to his relief, it feels like you. For the barest moment, he almost feels like he's already home.

It's a short-lived feeling, however, as Felix's words come back to him once more. His reflection in the bathroom mirror as he carefully rids himself of even the barest traces of stubble, doesn't meet the standards he's sure the mother of Felix Catton must hold.

Oliver's never considered himself particularly beautiful, nor did pretty much anyone else, it had always seemed. His mother was of course biased, Felix was filled with too much affection to be considered anywhere near reliable about that sort of things, and you - something inside Oliver squirms almost with embarrassment for even thinking so poorly of himself in the past few moments. Maybe a face like his would make Felix's mum happy, if the look in your eyes meant anything, every time you saw him.

Oliver chooses to leave the way he was brought in, taking a long few moments in Felix's room, leaving it untouched, undisturbed, but treating it like a museum to his best friend, clues about his life he couldn't glean from conversation alone. Felix's bookshelves were bigger than yours, stacked with comics amid countless fantasy and adventure books, but a surprising number of cowboy and western titles, though it's not as if there appears to be any kind of sorting system. There's a ceramic bowl that looks hand made, full of faded wristbands for events all over the world for the past five years. There's a shoebox that apparently used to hold a pair of lady's runners, now sitting at the end of one row that now has 'A Stupid Box For Feefs Stupid Rocks <3' sharpied on top in handwriting he doesn't recognise. A thick textbook about space on the bottom shelf with a cracked, worn spine and sticky tabs seeming to note various pages, various guitar tab books for different, popular bands that Felix would definitely be interested in. Four decks of cards stacked on top of each other, boxes looking so worn and used they were practically falling apart.

For a very long time, Oliver finds himself caught, looking at the little cork board full of photos leaning on top of the bookshelf. Countless photos of Felix, Farleigh, Venetia, and Y/N throughout the years. He hadn't realised just how long you and Felix had even known each other. How long you'd practically been a fixture at Saltburn in the Summer. There's a photo of the four of you all in your bathers, laying asleep on the grass beside the lake, all next to each other on brightly coloured towels, none of you could have been older than twelve; you fit right in along with the rest of them.

There's a photo strip, the kind taken in a booth at a mall or a museum, that Oliver thinks he recognises, but it takes him a long moment of staring at it to figure out why. It's you and Felix, and the strip itself says it's from an aquarium. Smiling. Laughing. You blurry, covering your laughter as Felix looks particularly goofy and pleased with himself, as if he'd just told a stupid joke. The last one has been ripped off.

Oh. Right. He'd seen it while snooping through Felix's wallet a few months ago; the photo had been the reason he'd put the wallet back at all. The way the two of you were kissing in the final photo, so wrapped up in each other, and love, and joy, had made Oliver feel almost physically sick with both want and jealousy.

God, he has to leave, has to stop snooping again and actually find this library and the rest of the Cattons.

Walking through Saltburn's many rooms alone makes Oliver feel like he's constantly out of bounds at a museum. There's hints of life throughout the building, but they're few and far between compared to the ornamental, carefully curated decorations of each room. Even the hints of the Cattons themselves seemed... too purposeful. The little, animated 'Catton Family Players' puppet show is the kind of thing only rich, whimsical weirdos could ever think was charming, and not just bizarre, vain, and haunting in the same way that porcelain dolls were.

But then he hears laughter, and warm chatter from down a hall, and the tinny, purposeful shouting from what could only be a movie or TV show. It sounds so much like his own family's living room on a cheerful evening that it's almost relaxing. Almost.

Because as he's approaching, he realises they're talking about him. They're picking apart the life he'd fed Felix as if it were mere gossip, speaking so airily, their sentiment so clearly out of touch that he'd probably find it amusing if he didn't have to pretend to be living it. Briefly, he wonders if they spoke like this about your life, or if the novelty of you had worn off in the years before. Perhaps you were just glad they could focus their pity and unapologetic classicism on someone else for a change; he couldn't hear you in there, which surprised him. Maybe part of him had expected you to defend him the way you had back at Oxford. Maybe you don't feel like you can at Saltburn. At least Felix sounds embarrassed, irritated as he admonishes Farleigh for having told the rest of the family.

Before he enters the library where the rest of the family has gathered, Oliver pauses by the door, both to get a better idea of what they're already thinking about him, but also because he'd spotted someone watching him from one of the adjacent rooms.

Bleach blonde hair, stars clinging to the tights on her legs, she's reading a book that Oliver can't quite see the cover of. Venetia was written on the collar of the little, blonde puppet in the Catton Family Players; Oliver suspects this is her. Oliver thinks she could be considered very beautiful, if she didn't seem quite so sharp. The way she huffs a laugh and wears a dangerously amused smile after she'd taken her own time in analysing him seems to prove as much. That being said, Oliver's not sure if she's laughing at something about him, or about the fact that they can both clearly hear her family's disparaging remarks about his apparent upbringing.

"Farleigh seems to think he's ghastly," Oliver hears a woman say as his hand comes to rest on the door handle, "why are you and our dear pet even friends with him, darling?"

"Dirt poor, not attractive, and his parents are drug addicts," a second woman's voice seems to surmise as Oliver lets himself into the room, "I can't actually -" but Felix makes a noise as he sees the door opening, and the woman goes quiet as Oliver peers in.

"And here he is now," Farleigh sounds as thrilled as he ever was to see Oliver, "we were just talking about you," like he's trying his best to make Oliver feel as unwelcome as possible. It's... kind of working. Bastard. However looking over at him does solve one mystery; you and Farleigh are sharing a sofa at the back of the room that's only just big enough for the both of you as long as you're tucked up against him, his arm slung over the back of the chair behind you.

And you're fast asleep against him.

The blonde woman on the sofa who shares Felix's elegant, effortless beauty admonishes Farleigh, even though Oliver can tell from her voice she was one of the ones very much talking about him only moments before. Oliver has the grace to pretend like he hadn't heard, though is still glad for the vaguely embarrassed, apologetic look Felix is already giving him.

This has to be Felix's mother, the blonde with the airy voice who immediately gets up to greet him, to assess him.

"Oh, what beautiful eyes," oh thank god, "oh, how wonderful!" There's genuine surprise and adoration in the way Felix's mother regards him, and Oliver can't help but feel relieved, like he's finally passed the first of what he's sure will be many tests during his life at the Saltburn estate.

"Yeah, we told you he wasn't a minger," Felix pointed out when his mother turns to him.

"Oh, but darling, you and pet are kind about everyone; neither of you can be trusted about those you're fond of." Pet? Does she mean Y/N? Suddenly Farleigh's comments over the months make a strange amount of sense. At the very least Oliver's heart begins to sing at the idea of you and Felix speaking so kindly of him to the others that they know you're both especially fond of him... And you both seem to think he's beautiful enough that you mention it when he's not around. Huh.

But yes, the moment the woman explains her aborrance of ugliness Oliver knows he's talking to Felix's mother. At least she seems to like him well enough, going so far as to ask if he'd seen Venetia yet, that even she'd been dying to see him, but had chosen to drape herself around the house as if laying in wait for him. Indeed that's how it had seemed when he'd spotted her earlier, but none of them have let Oliver get a word in edgewise.

Felix's father is the next to introduce himself, all long limbs and warm handshake to match his smile, just like his son. When he asks Oliver about his trip to the estate, Oliver finally breathes, can finally respond.

"Oh, God, don't with the 'sirs'," Felix's mother waves him over to sit down, insisting, "no, no, no, we can't stand anything like that here," though her outburst seems to have been enough to rouse you. As Oliver sits, he hears, syrupy and warm with sleep from behind him -

"Ollie!" As you had each time since he's arrived, you sound so genuinely delightful. Farleigh makes a noise in the back of his throat. Oliver turns in time to see you elbow Farleigh in the ribs.

"I liked you better when you were asleep."

"Fars," your voice drops low, like a warning, and Oliver's surprised by how sharply Farleigh looks away, jaw clenching tightly, "be good." Oliver almost thinks Farleigh might be angry, but then he sees the gentle way Farleigh's holding your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles against your upper arm; from what Oliver can see, he realises Farleigh's expression is almost embarrassed -

"Children, stop bickering," Felix's mother orders brightly, and your expression returns to unbothered and chipper as you refocus on Oliver.

"Hi Ollie," again, then as more of an offer to the rest of the room, "isn't he just lovely?" Oliver flushes, but gives you a fond smile, even as you settle back against Farleigh. Even though Farleigh persists with glaring at him, when he turns back, he rests his cheek against your head, oozing malevolence as he seemingly tucks himself against you too. But he does indeed remain quiet.

After the altercation passes, Oliver gets a brief introduction to one of the other house guests at Saltburn, Pamela, brief being the operative word as she's quickly sent away to ask about tea from one of the staff members at Felix's mother's insistence. Pamela herself doesn't exactly seem confident in the task, but that's once again when you speak up. Much to Oliver's surprise, you give a detailed physical description of the woman - Annie - and succinct directions to the kitchen itself, following it up with a yawn and -

"The Irish one, a bit mousy, might have trouble meeting your gaze but she's nice enough."

Pamela looks far more confident thanks to your directions. Oliver's genuinely shocked at your level of detail and knowledge, but everyone else seems to be so casually used to it.

"She is a bit like that, isn't she?" Felix's mother muses with an idle air, and when Oliver glances back at you, you still have your eyes closed, as if close to falling back asleep, while Farleigh has his faint, fond laughter pressed against your temple.

Before Oliver can even reckon with the moment that had just come to pass, Felix's mother is regaling him with all of Pamela's dirty laundry, before she dives right into pitying Oliver himself, and the sob story of his life and most recent 'tragedy' she's heard.

She looks at him just the same way Felix had. He think of the moment he'd decided to commit to this Dickensian kayfabe, that day in the pub when Felix's eyes were fixed on him, all pity and desire and a desperate need to fix, to save, to be a light in Oliver's life. The way this woman speaks, the way she looks at him in this moment, makes Felix Catton make total and complete sense. Something inside Oliver relaxes; she would not be hard won.

As they circle back around to the tragedy of poor Pamela, however, something about what Farleigh says, pointing out that the tragedy of her was the only interesting thing about her, sticks in the back of Oliver's mind.

Being beautiful and tragic would only ever get him so far, would only ever make him a novelty. It takes another glance back at you for him to realise a little more of why you behaved the way you did; tragic and beautiful and useful. That's the thought that turns over in his mind, even as Felix's mother starts her line of questioning about the sordid details of his upbringing, and Venetia joins them only to stare at him like a bug, and Farleigh only seems to be holding himself back from outright contempt at your behest. You are once again asleep. At least Felix makes a token effort to reprimand his mother, not that it appears to make much of a difference.

Oliver offers what little he can get away with, and feels only relief when Felix insists they start getting ready for dinner. Oliver practically bolts, he doesn't even wait for Felix like he probably should have, just desperately hoping he's got the right door to his own room. Clearly he has, swearing when he's finally in his little piece of sanctuary, but after a beat he realises that even that has been breached.

His suitcase is no longer at the foot of his bed.

In another moment, the door that connects his room to the bathroom squeaks open and there's two more people in his room without bothering to even knock. At least Felix is apologising for his mother. Part of Oliver thinks he should have expected the Cattons to be exactly as out of touch as this house implied, that he should have braced himself better, that it's not Felix's fault, but the apology is still nice.

Also he's rather distracted by the fact that all of his clothes have been organised neatly in the old, wooden cupboard.

"Did someone unpack my suitcase?" Oliver hears himself ask distractedly. Looking back when Felix makes a noise of guilt, he sees Felix sitting on the edge of his bed with an apologetic smile, and you next to him, laying back on the bed and looking at the ceiling.

"Uh, shit, yes, I should have told you," Felix admits, "they do that kind of thing here." Rich, whimsical weirdos, the lot of them, "the maids all report back to mum, by the way," Felix informs him, while you're just quietly swinging your legs off the edge of the bed. Felix's tone turns teasing, however, "so I hope you didn't pack anything scandalous." Oliver leans on the wooden foot of the bed, into Felix's space with an amused smile at the thought - pushing his luck, pushing into Felix's space to play off of the idea of scandal, so close to Felix and his mischievous smile. Felix leans back, the tease, giving Oliver space to quietly say -

"Just my old boxers."

You snicker. Felix grins.

"No, they're used to that, don't worry," but then Felix is up again, almost too close, looking at Oliver like he knows this is all some kind of joke, like he know - like he wants Oliver to keep looking at him, at his teasing smile, at his lips like that, "Duncan will be thrilled." Like this is all a game. Oliver snorts a laugh.

But the moment doesn't last, and Felix is moving again, getting up, telling Oliver a new rule - ahead of time this time. Dinner at Saltburn is an event you dress for, with the kind of dress code that requires a dinner jacket and cuff links and - Oliver would be properly embarrassed if it didn't mean he got to wear Felix's spare jacket. Felix seems almost embarrassed by it all, his casual nature clearly butting heads with the formality of his heritage. In this moment he almost seems childish, it's rather sweet. Judging by your smile, you're endeared by his behaviour without even having to see it; you hadn't even thought to sit up; your eyes have fallen closed, as if basking in this moment.

Oliver watches you, the way you radiate contentment. You were not born into Saltburn, but you'd made it your home. You'd won the love of Felix Catton, and a place in his life, that no-one else had managed to achieve. Hope was a beautiful thing, and you were both in this moment.

"I'm really happy you're here, Ol," Felix finally murmured, and finally Oliver believes him, "I'm sorry everything's so... old fashioned."

"No," Oliver's voice is soft, "it's wonderful."

The pleased smile Felix wears as he heads through to his own room makes everything about this strange, ritualistic, obsessive, critical world worth it. Over his shoulder, he asks if you'll be coming through too, and you tell him you'll catch up in a second. Felix closes the door over quietly, and after a moment, Oliver joins you, laying back on the bed.

"I like your room," Oliver breaks the silence after a moment. After a moment, a hum that's more like a contented laugh escapes you. You mumble a thanks; it's been a few hours since he'd seen you initially, your chatter had died down considerably, it seemed like you'd sobered up a good deal in the afternoon that had just passed.

There's a million things Oliver wants to say in this moment, things he wants to do, questions he has about you, about Felix, about Saltburn.

"It's not-" he finally starts, voice so soft as he finally turns to you, "it wasn't your fault, by the way."

When you turn to meet his gaze, there's surprise and confusion in your eyes, clearly not sure what he was referring to. Its been a long time now since he'd deliberately reached out for you, since you'd slept together, since Felix had first started giving him resentful looks. Things are better now. Much better.

"What?"

All it takes is a deliberate, gentle touch, his hand taking yours, apology in his eyes. Its enough to acknowledge that he'd spent time pulled away from you, that you weren't crazy to think that, and that you weren't at fault.

Oliver's always liked watching you process things, at least when you allow the world to see it happen on your face, not making an effort to hide it. You look down at his hand on yours, grip loose like more of a reassurance; raising your joined hands like you can't quite believe the sight, he takes the opportunity to link your fingers. It wasn't your fault.

Looking deliberately back at the ceiling, he gives you the time and space to process this development without feeling so watched.

"Oh," you mumble quietly, finally, "it's..." you give his hand a squeeze, "thanks?" Oliver smiles, and knows you see it, can see in his peripheries the way you're watching him now, but when he goes to withdraw his hand, you hold him tighter for just a beat, as if on instinct, before you let him go.

"Can I be bold for a moment?" He breaks the moment, breaks the tension, voice light and inquisitive.

"I like your boldness, Ollie, you know that," you respond automatically, matching his energy easily. Sitting up, Oliver turns to fix you with a scrutinising look for a long moment, and you wait, you watch him with eyebrows raised and an amused smile painted across your lips.

"You're sleeping with Farleigh," it's not a question. Your smile grows wider and far more smug.

"Ollie - Oliver - look at me," you prop yourself up on one elbow, gesturing down at your body, "look at where we are," you gesture around at the bedroom itself, "how many Summers do you think unrelated teenagers in close proximity, growing steadily more attractive with each passing year, can get through without ending up deciding to fuck to pass the time?"

Oliver, charmed by your blunt confidence, can't help but laugh, while also being able to connect enough dots to the implication that he should expect you to be just as close to Felix's sister too. You join him in his laughter, finally sitting yourself up. Oliver knocks his knee with yours, deliberate, and watches with a kind of fondness as you immediately focus on the moment of brief contact. You'd missed him, just as he'd anticipated.

But the laughter dies down, and you finally stand, sighing that you should probably get yourself ready for dinner too. Before stepping away, you lean back down with a wide, goofy smile that reminds Oliver a bit of Felix, and gently grasp his chin, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Oliver, a little startled by the gesture but welcoming it nonetheless, feels want burn through his veins momentarily as he watches you head to the door.

"Oh, Ollie, there's some stuff under the sink for you," you yawned and stretched and Oliver tried desperately not to stare at the way your shirt rode up, "shampoo, toothpaste, contacts; junk like that, you know, just in case." Wait, what was that last one?

"Contacts?"

"Yeah," like it was perfectly fucking reasonable, your hand on the door, "in case you didn't bring any or you ran out - there's actually a spare pair of glasses as well, if you'd prefer. Same frames as yours, I wasn't sure-"

"You know my prescription?"

"Yeah?"

"How...?"

You go quiet. You shrug. Its not a real answer.

Right; a magician never reveals their secrets. Its not particularly reassuring for a man lying about a large portion of his life.

For now Oliver just tries to remind himself of the way you look at him, the way you want him, the way he loves you, for who you are, for all you can do.

"Thank you," he says quietly, gives you a smile and hopes you believe it, "you're good to me." He's not sure what about that surprises you, but he catalogues this in the back of his mind. There's something beautiful and, he suspects, rare, about catching you off guard. But your next words are enough to return the favour, have his heartbeat in his ears, hopeful and quick as a humming bird right before you leave.

"Of course I am, Ollie, I love you."

And he's not sure why, but he believes you.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #saltburn imagine #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 11 - Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really... a little bit of kissing interruptus.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is a slightly transitional chapter after the seismic events in Chapter 10. Our couple have no regrets but cannot get time alone as our intrepid trio journeys to Aubrey Hall. Yes, here beginnith our latest trope: secret relationship! Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Portsmouth, UK, September 1939

Waking up in Benedict’s arms for a second time is a thoroughly different experience, a handsome smile creasing his face.

“Good morning,” he rumbles, and you feel it buzz in your cheekbone resting on his pectoral.

“Good morning,” you whisper, tilting to kiss his lips.

You want to burrow into his warmth, his naked body, curl around him like a vine. Forget the world; just exist with him here in this warm cocoon. His hand slides up your back, pulling you snugger into him as you kiss - languid, sensual, tongues touching, a stirring you can feel between your legs and in him where your thigh is draped over his lap.

Just as you are about to get lost in this, in him, there is a rapid-fire knocking on the door.

“Wakey, wakey, lazy bones! Let me in!” Eloise’s voice calls, muffled in the corridor outside.

You both swing your heads towards the door, then back to each other in almost comic unison, jumping apart as if burned, exchanging panicked looks as you scurry out of bed.

“Give me a minute,” Benedict grouses loudly for her benefit.

Then, there is a flurry of hushed movement as you fling open suitcases and rapidly throw on the nearest clothing. ‘Bed!’ you mouth, signalling for him to help. You work together in unison to make the bed, not to the point it doesn't look slept in, but certainly not the tangle of sheets from tumultuous lovemaking that it was. Belatedly, you realise you should have put a makeshift pile on the floor as if he slept there.

It's less than a minute from when you were naked in each other’s arms to Benedict opening the door to Eloise, you on the other side of the room attempting nonchalance. She wanders in, looking blissed out but also a little worse for wear, an apparent hangover clinging to her edges as she retrieves a hairbrush from her suitcase. You want to ask how her night was, but her frown stops you.

“Doesn’t look like anyone slept on the floor…” she comments suspiciously as she pulls up to the mirror.

“I am, in fact, capable of tidying away blankets and pillows after I use them, sister,” Benedict sighs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window. “It is what I was doing when you so rudely woke up half the hotel, in fact,” he lies.

Eloise sticks her tongue out at him in the mirror, which he roundly ignores.

“Your brother is a true gentleman,” you defend, staying intentionally vague, standing behind her and using the mirror as well to touch up your appearance.

It's your turn to receive the Eloise look of scornful derision before you steer to a new, safer topic.

“So, how was your night with Phillip?” you tease affably.

“Oh, he’s wonderful,” a wistful look claiming her face. A secret little smile you have never seen before. “We had such a memorable night.”

“Aaaand I don’t need to hear this,” Benedict deadpans. “I’ll see you ladies downstairs for breakfast…” is his parting shot as he heads for the door.

But as Eloise leans down to grab a hairpin, launching into a whole story, he winks at you in the reflection, and your heart skips a beat.

——

“So, ready to party your life away in London?” Eloise chirps as the train trundles through rural Hampshire a few hours later. “It's not Paris, but it will do….”

“I thought we were going to your country home?” you frown.

“Well, yes, for a few days. But we can head back up to Bridgerton House for the weekend,” Eloise grins. “Phillip might be in town by then….” You chuckle at her lack of subtlety. “And we can find you a nice man!” she adds.

There is a scrunch of a newspaper diagonally across from you as Benedict’s grip tightens on the broadsheet he is holding, his face wholly obscured behind it.

“Oh, I don't know..” you attempt to laugh it off. “I think I might give that whole party lifestyle a rest.”

“Nonsense! You are not really a married lady, you know,” Eloise withers, rolling her eyes. “And you can take that off now,” she nods to your ring finger.

“Oh…” you fumble, touching it instinctively, the soft lamplight within the compartment making the gold glint brightly. “I thought it safer to wear it while we are still in transit,” you bluff, knowing Benedict is paying full attention to your conversation now, even as he hides behind The Times.

She frowns. “You have your residency now. The British government will not bother tracking you down with this war effort. You could get divorced tomorrow, and literally, nothing would happen,” she opines imperiously as if suddenly an expert on immigration matters.

“Better safe than sorry, Eloise,” Benedict pipes up, folding down the paper and removing his reading glasses with that lecturing elder brother air. His ring catches the sunlight as he does, making something bloom in your ribs to see it.

Just as Eloise goes to dispute it, her face instead lights up from the passing trolley service. “Oooh, snacks!” she exclaims distractedly, craning to look out into the corridor, allowing you to smile your thanks softly at Benedict unseen. His responding lopsided smile has your stomach vaulting.

Then Eloise is on her feet, chasing the attendant that rumbled past your compartment, apparently keen for refreshments. As soon as she is out of sight, you reach a hand across to him. He leans forward and grasps it with both of his.

“We will have time alone at Aubrey Hall, I promise,” he whispers earnestly, his eyes imploring, bringing your hand to his lips and making you stutter as he brushes warm lips over the back of your fingers.

“I want to touch you, Benedict…” you confess ardently, “all the time. So very much…”

His face is a storm of bridled intensity at your words, his pupils dilating rapidly. “As do I….” his words impassioned, even as his expression clouds wincingly, and you know where his thoughts have slid.

“But, Eloise…” you nod, understanding, reluctantly withdrawing your hand and sitting back, a tingle still on your fingers from his lips.

There is no way either of you wants to raise what is happening or what has happened yet. Neither of you is sure of anything except this magnetic pull between you—yearning to be together, alone.

“Yes…” he sighs, pained, slumping back into his seat just as the lady in question twirls back in, hands full with Cadbury's bars and a Fry’s Peppermint Cream.

“I thought you hated Peppermint Cream?” Benedict frowns as Eloise hands you both a Cadbury and immediately unwraps the Fry’s bar for herself, taking a big bite.

“I may be reassessing its merits,” she sniffs before leaning in to whisper to you, muffled around her mouthful. “It’s Phillip's favourite,” she divulges before staring dreamily out the window.

You have never known Eloise to change her mind about anything in the time you have known her, especially not from a man’s opinion. You just shrug at Benedict, conveying your equal surprise. Clearly, this one might be a serious contender.

—

Walking the connecting overhead path to Waterloo Junction for your onward train to Kent, you are startled when Benedict grabs your hand and places it into his coat pocket. You soon realise in the glass reflection ahead that the swish of the open fabric means the connection of your hands is unseen.

Your heart pounds in your ears as you walk beside Eloise, her none the wiser as your palms grip each other, fingers laced. When you glance up at him briefly, you see the ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips, but he keeps looking ahead as if nothing unusual is happening.

You want to kiss the little dimple right there at his sheer genius.

—

The onward leg only takes an hour and is filled with amiable chat, mostly about books and films. Soon, you are alighting the train at a charming rural village stop, the platform ablaze with neatly potted late summer plants of reds and yellows.

But you are struck with a sudden wave of nerves as a sleek car awaits you. You are not long away from meeting the rest of the Bridgerton family. Strictly, your family now too.

“Does anyone know?” You ask Eloise as the driver loads your cases into the boot.

“Know what?”

“That Benedict and I are married…?” You spell out, surprised she didn’t follow your train of thought.

“Oh. Well. I didn’t call or telegram,” she twists to look at Benedict as he places your day bag on top of his. “Did you tell mother?”

He scoffs. “God, no. Not something I could begin to explain over the phone.”

“So what do we say? Or do?” You ask, subconsciously toying with your ring.

Benedict walks over and places comforting hands on your shoulders. It takes all of your willpower not to lean into him. “Don't worry. Follow my lead. I don’t think we can or should lie.”

Less than a minute into the car ride, you sandwiched between the siblings, Eloise’s eyes flutter closed, face lolling against the glass. You signal to Benedict, and when he twists to see, his hand grabs your kneecap, fingers wrapping around and caressing the ticklish skin near the crease at the back of your knee. Something about this stolen moment is exciting, elicit, and endlessly arousing.

“I cannot go more than an hour in your presence without wanting to touch you,” he whispers, leaning close, his words a hot gust into your ear that has you melting.

“Same,” you murmur back, your hand sliding over his, mapping the raised veins with your fingertips, memories of the last night tumbling through your mind, those strong hands running over your naked flesh, grasping. It makes your breath hitch audibly.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice is a honeyed rumble that makes every hair on your forearms stand on end. He probably knows, but you confirm it anyway.

“Last night…” you mouth, turning your face into him so his lips brush your cheek. His grip tightens, and his breath rags into your hair.

“It's all I have thought about since…” he confesses; your chest flutters as his hand slides a fraction higher on your leg, playing with your hem. Every fibre of your being is calling for him. You want him to keep going, slide all the way up your thighs and touch you… but Eloise stirs, and instantly, his touch is gone, and you are left bereft.

—

To call Aubrey Hall a country house is ridiculous. Your jaw drops as the car sweeps up a long gravel driveway to an enormous, handsome pile of a manor estate.

“Oh my god, Eloise,” you smack her arm lightly. “How rich are you!?”

She laughs. “What, that my brother is a Viscount doesn't give that away?” she guffaws.

“Well, I thought maybe it was an honourary title or something…” you mutter, feeling slightly embarrassed you don't know the full ins and outs of the British aristocracy you have clearly married into, entirely without knowing.

“Don't be intimidated,” Benedict soothes. “We are just a large family who inherited a big pile. I promise we aren't stuffy or cold.” You want to squeeze his hand for being so empathetic and reassuring.

“Or inbred!” Eloise cackles as the car stops, and you notice a beautiful, elegant middle-aged woman waving from the steps.

“Our mother,” Benedict elucidates before Eloise throws the door open and jogs up to hug the lady, who looks overjoyed to be reunited with her daughter after months away. You can tell Eloise is happy, too, even if her joy is more understated.

Benedict is by your side when you are out of the vehicle. A pillar of support, even if not touching you.

“Mum…” Eloise pulls her down the steps. “This is y/n!”

“Oh, it's wonderful to meet you!” the lady greets, pulling you into a welcoming hug that smells lavender and lilac. “I have heard so much!”

“Same!” you chime back.

Then it is Benedict’s turn to hug her; you swear there is an extra glint in her eye as if he is her favourite. However, you notice he keeps his left hand in his pocket throughout.

“Thank you for bringing them back safe, darling,” she reaches up and pats his hair affectionately as if he is still a child, not a grown man in his late twenties.

“We would have made it home perfectly safe without him, mother,” Eloise gripes with her trademark mettle.

“Eloise Bridgerton, you would have absconded to Saint Tropez if your brother were not there. Don't even lie about that,” Violet chides lovingly, and you can't help but giggle.

“Don't take her side!” Elose decries.

“Come on, it's true,” you laugh, bumping her gently with your shoulder as you walk in through the doors.

It is a beautiful stately home, but at the same time, it seems less imposing on the inside; it looks lived in and loved. A house that is full of family and life.

“You will meet the rest of the family later today,” Violet advises. “Well, minus our brave Viscount, who is in London with Churchill, and Daphne, who lives with her husband.”

“And Fran,” Eloise adds.

“Yes, Francesca is staying with her cousins in Bath,” Violet counsels as she guides you into their parlour.

“She’s barely my sister,” Eloise jests, dropping onto a sofa and grabbing a glass of water from a carafe on the coffee table.

Violet just shoots her an exasperated look while offering you a seat, too. “Eloise told me you were engaged, not already married,” Violet addresses as you get comfortable.

Benedict springs from across the room. “Ahhh, about that….” he placates with his left hand aloft.

“Is that also a ring I see on your finger, Benedict Bridgerton?!” Violet splutters.

“Mother, I can explain….”

And thus, he recounts the events of the last few days. Violet listening intently, looking, in turn, shocked, dumbfounded and proud. Of course, Benedict omits the whole part of the fact you are together romantically. Well, sort of. You think. You are dying to be alone with him so you can talk. Or perhaps do other more exciting things. That idle thought makes your cheeks flush.

“I am so very grateful to your son, Viscountess Bridgerton,” you jump in as much as to steer your own wayward thoughts away from dangerous waters. “Without him, I would likely still be stuck in France, all alone.”

His eyes dance with warmth as you glance at him, wanting to grab his hand and lace your fingers. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Violet has the most intrigued look as she observes her son carefully—the all-knowing eye of a matriarch.

“Well, I am so grateful you are safe, my dear,” she turns to you. “And please, for goodness sake, call me Violet. You are welcome to remain with us as long as you need or desire. You are family now, after all. At least for as long as you wish to be considered such,” she concludes, seeming to choose her words very carefully.

“Thank you, Violet,” you murmur, so grateful, already feeling a warm glow from her hospitality. “I could not be more honoured to be here for as long as you will all have me,” your eyes drifting back to Benedict as you say it.

The tender look on his face makes you touch your wedding ring idly with your thumb, and your heart leaps as he does the same. Although you swear you can feel the weight of Violet’s stare as you do so.

Benedict taglist Pt 1: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @hanji-emo-blog @Huffelpuffforlife

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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slexenskee · 2 months

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Masterpost✨ May Death Never Stop You - Oneshots

Making a big masterlist to be updated as I go along.

All the unrelated shorts/prompts/asks/AUs for this series live on tumblr under the #mdnsy oneshots tag. But they get lost constantly on my dashboard so they also have their own permanent home on Patreon (free) in a MDNSY Collection.

Any time I add to the collection I'll make a post about it on tumblr too, but as I said those get lost really quickly on tumblr and can be hard to track down after the fact. I will likely never post any of these on AO3, even if I might link them in the ANs for people to read. They're mostly just >1k shorts that come from ideas people have in the comments of the fic, so they may never find a place in the story proper, but the opposite of that is also true. The oneshot Cursed Fight, for example, will probably be somewhere in the epilogue. Other ones like Anti-Hero might be slipped into a later Endeavor POV if it makes sense. So especially for that reason, I don't want them interfering with the reader experience. Also, if I create an AU (like Sunshine of my Lifetime, or the Mpreg AU that as of yet doesn't have a name) that has enough substance of its own, it might find its way into the 'big leagues' lol of AO3.

There's a meme on here about how seeing someone on AO3 is like attending their Thesis presentation, and seeing someone on Tumblr is like being at their house watching them eat mayonnaise out of a jar at 2am. I in particular am mostly a trash meme goblin and that reflects pretty soundly on my Tumblr, and this kind of content deserves better than that lol

Masterlist:

One-shots:

Anti-Hero - Endeavor has never understood any of his children, but Touya most of all. Written for a commenter that wanted to see more of Gojo's childhood

At Tea Time - Gojo's a girl dad. Accompaniment fic for this adorable fanart piece of baby Fuyumi and baby Gojo dressed up and playing tea party.

Nest - Gojo is sick. Hawks makes a nest about it. Written for an ask that wanted to see Gojo's opinion on Hawks's more 'animal' traits

Cursed Fight - Satoru releases a new single called Ao no Sumika for the third season of his hit anime, Cursed Fight. Everyone has feelings about it. AU written in response to a lot of asks about MHA characters experiencing/watching Gojo's past life

Detour - @Scrubstan22 finds himself in the (un)enviable position of explaining Ru-kun to the JJK cast. for an ask about the JJK cast finding out about MDNSY Ru-kun

Don't Forget About Us - The new bff learns about the old bff. for an ask about Makoto learning about Suguru

So Full of Love (NSFW) - The tension snaps the moment Hawks gets his mouth on Satoru. Smut for Ch 23 of FLW. Co-written with K, and also up on AO3 under their account

Alternate Universes/Spin-Offs:

Only Shooting Stars (Break The Mold) - The AU where Gojo is actually All Might's rascal of a Cali kid

#fic may death never stop you #mdnsy oneshots

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toxicpineapple · 5 months

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writing tips masterpost

hello to my loyal tumblr followers... i am often asked to give writing advice but usually when people ask me this i'm nooooot completely sure what to say despite having a ton of advice to give. it's such a broad question when there are so many different things i can advise on, right? so i thought i'd make a sort of writing advice masterpost where i can compile the tips that i think people specifically in fandoms could benefit the most from hearing, OR that i wish someone had told me when i was still finding my footing as a writer.

hopefully this will be helpful to you. i am putting all of the advice under a read more since this is going to be a long one. let's roll!

✬ paragraph breaks are your friend

the fastest way to get me to stop reading a fic is if i click in and see that there are NO paragraphs made and the entire piece is in a huge block of text. no matter how good your work is, i just can't read it at that point. the giant paragraph makes me get lost, i can't focus on anything... it's a huge no.

the trick is you want your paragraphs to sort of act as a guide for your reader, taking them through the story, keeping them engaged. do not be afraid to do short paragraphs! i can understand wanting to shy away from one or two sentence paragraphs for fear of not having "enough substance" in your work, but the truth is, a thousand short paragraphs is ten times easier to read than a huge block of text.

realistically, you want to have a good amount of variety in your paragraph length. variety is key. readers will notice when your work gets formulaic, and some people will like that, but for others that can turn people away from your work. but don't force it! a paragraph should end at the end of a statement, or if the paragraph is getting too long then cut off the thought and continue in the next paragraph with a transitional phrase.

as a general rule of thumb, you want lines of dialogue by different speakers to be put in separate paragraphs. you also want to avoid doing huge chunks of narration or exposition in the same paragraph as you introduce a new speaker. just make a new paragraph! no big deal. i guarantee you your reader will be way more engaged and nobody is going to come at you for doing more rather than less.

✬ make sure the reader knows who is speaking and when

you don't have to end off every line of dialogue with "she said" and in fact i would really recommend you don't. but you ALWAYS need to have some kind of indication in the text as to who is speaking, otherwise the reader can get lost.

this doesn't necessarily mean that you always have to explicitly say who is saying what, though. if it is obvious in a scene who is saying something -- so for example, a scene where there are only two characters talking OR the dialogue has some kind of phrase, statement, etc that makes it obvious who the speaker is -- then in that case you can just let the dialogue speak for itself. sometimes in writing less can be more. you disrupt the flow of a scene if you start to exposit unnecessarily when the reader could reasonably work something out for themself.

✬ "said" is your friend too

related to the last piece of advice, here's another note: don't shy away from using the word "said".

don't overuse it, either. obviously, you don't want every single line to be "he says" "she says" back and forth, especially when they might be asking questions or shouting, in which case the word "said" probably isn't all that applicable at all. but it's a nice default. if you catch yourself busting out the thesaurus, my recommendation? quit it. just use said. it's not going to hurt you and the reader isn't going to mind.

but yeah, in the event that a character is raising their voice, whispering, inquiring -- there are tons of other words you can use in lieu of said and then an adverb. it's just context-dependent, and also, you don't really want to lean too far one way or another. like i said, variety is key. too much of the same breaks immersion.

✬ if you wouldn't say it yourself, probably don't use it in writing

another related tip. look, i get it. you want to spruce up your writing with synonyms. but the fact of the matter is that a lot of these words that "mean the same thing" on paper actually have wildly differing connotations and if you don't understand what those are you're going to look kind of silly whipping out a word you just found off the internet. we can usually tell, too.

your vocabulary will naturally grow and expand as you continue to read and learn. you don't have to try and force it to seem smarter in your writing. people who can write compelling prose and dialogue without throwing in fancy words they barely understand look a lot more intelligent than people who have a thesaurus at the ready 24/7.

✬ if there's a simpler way to say it, take it

this one can be sort of style-dependent, so if it's not your cup of tea then feel free to take or leave this tip, but in my opinion, taking a whole seven-line paragraph to describe a simple action wastes both your and the readers' time.

how many times have you read a fic where the main characters are having a conversation with these long rambling paragraphs between lines of dialogue? sometimes this makes sense! if you were writing a death note fic it would absolutely make sense for light or L to be pausing every few seconds to carefully analyse their opponent's move... but that's not always the case. sometimes characters are just making small talk.

i'm not saying you can't show off. you should show off where applicable. but there's a time and place. sometimes a scene benefits more from you taking the easy way to describe something and moving on. flowery language is great, but if you're meandering too much the reader will lose interest and attention.

✬ a metaphor is useless if nobody knows what it means

writing is subjective and highly personal. write for yourself first and foremost, and use the metaphors that feel right to you -- but the best metaphorical pieces, to me, are the ones that people can understand and identify with.

you've read a story like that, haven't you? with a reoccurring theme or motif that comes back into play at the end in a way that makes you feel so satisfied and complete? THAT'S what you aim for with literary devices like that. if you write a story that nobody can understand, with metaphors that just don't make any sense -- then you haven't really successfully told a good story, have you?

i understand wanting to have a magnum opus. i think it's easy to fall into the "misunderstood writer" mindset where you want your pieces to be so magnificent that only the likeminded will get it -- but writing is a form of communication. metaphor is just another means with which we can illustrate how we feel. you WANT your readers to understand what you're doing with the metaphors, you WANT the people who step away from your story to know what you were trying to say. you don't have to be obvious, just make it good. make it something that can be reasonably drawn from the text.

at the end of the day flowery language is just flowery language. that doesn't actually make your story good.

✬ grammar intermission

(.) period/full stop: used at the end of sentences. oftentimes not used at the end of sentences in dialogue, because lines of dialogue are considered a fragment of a larger sentence. use a period/full stop at the end of a line of dialogue if the dialogue is followed up by another complete sentence. example:

"i just went to the store," he said, scratching his head.

"i just went to the store." he scratched his head.

(,) comma: used in the middle or to separate different clauses (parts/sections) of sentences. used for incomplete clauses, AKA sections of the sentence that could not function as individual sentences. also used to indicate a slight pause. example:

she reached for the ripest banana, plucking it from the bunch.

a comma can also be replaced by a conjunction like "and" or "but". example:

she reached for the ripest banana and plucked it from the bunch.

(;) semi colon: used to separate different complete clauses in sentences, AKA sections of the sentence that are related but COULD function individually as their own sentences. example:

he sighed as he looked out the window; it had been so long since he stepped outside.

not to be confused with

(:) colon: used at the end of a line that leads into or introduces another line. example:

his fingers drummed restlessly against the window sill. it was finally happening: he was finally leaving this place.

(-) hyphen: used to connect compound words like three-years-old or hyphenated surnames like jones-smith.

(–) en dash: used to indicate ranges of time or distance, like 3–4 hours.

(—) em dash: a girl's best friend. slash j. but an em dash is used to indicate a few different things: an abrupt end to a thought or sentence, a "cut-in" where you interject something tangentially or unrelated before returning to the original thought, or a diversion in the sentence/thought. examples:

"no, listen, you don't understand—"

he scowled—an ugly look on his usually handsome features—and told her to be quiet.

it's not like she had wanted it to go that way—but when had it ever mattered what she wanted?

(()) parentheses: used to add additional context, information, or a semi-unrelated thought that would break the flow of an ongoing sentence without completely taking the reader out. example:

"no, i'm sorry. i just forgot to call you this morning," he said, looking away. (in truth, he'd sat by the phone for fifteen minutes trying to psyche himself into it, but hadn't been able to muster the courage.)

✬ show don't tell, and tell don't show

show don't tell is one of the classic pieces of writing advice that i do, often, think is correct -- but it's a little more nuanced than just never telling your readers what a character is thinking. you want the work to speak for itself without you implanting messages or themes into the reader's brain. at the same time though you don't want them to be doing too much work because it breaks immersion.

this ties into what i was saying above about simpler being better sometimes. you want to be concise especially in scenes that might call for it. a fight scene should be quick and snappy. no need to dig into the physical sensation of being enraged -- just say the character is pissed! but if a character is having a meltdown or panicking, you can get SO much more out of describing how that feels than just outright saying it.

✬ remember your perspective

another huge thing with show don't tell is that you don't want your character to be able to objectively say what everyone else is thinking and feeling -- unless that makes sense for them within the context of the story. really dig into it. DOES the character have a reason to know what their opponents, friends, etc are thinking? how well do they know the other characters? how attentive are they to the emotions of those around them?

it's better to focus on descriptions than labels in that case. say what face a character is making, describe their body language or tone. your character can have impressions, just make it clear that those ARE their impressions. and let your character be wrong! they do not have to be a completely objective source of information.

✬ when it comes to representation, if you aren't confident you can do it well, don't do it at all

i'm one of those people who's kind of of the opinion that white or cishet or otherwise systemically advantaged people have no place being the loudest voices in conversations about representation, least of all AS the representatives. if you are someone with systemic privilege and you choose to portray someone who is oppressed -- that's not necessarily a bad thing. but you need to be willing to do your research and have a sensitivity reader, and you have to be ready for people to say you did it wrong.

not much else to be said about that. your voice on the matter isn't actually all that important. there are people from the demographics involved who DO have stories to tell about themselves that will be MUCH more valuable than your perception of them, so it's honestly better to just let them tell it. that's how i feel.

✬ don't break the rules unless you know how to follow them. in other words, your rebellion should be obvious

a lot of times i see people breaking grammar or other rules and citing "stylistic" choices as their reasons why. which is all good and well, to an extent -- but you want it to be very clear that you ARE breaking the rules on purpose in a way that adds to the artistic merit of your piece.

if you don't know the rules, then it really just comes across like messy work. you both have to know how to apply the rules, and also how to break them in a stylistically significant way. if it doesn't make sense for the rules to be broken, if it says nothing... it's honestly better to just follow them. that's my take.

✬ don't be scared of names and pronouns

i said before that you want variety in your work, and that is very very true -- but it's also true that certain words like names, pronouns, etc will sort of blend into the background in writing. people don't notice them. that means if you're using a name or pronoun a lot in a scene to make it clear who exactly is being referred to...

hey. look into my eyes. breathe. it's okay. you do not have to resort to highlighting arbitrary characteristics of the characters. i know. just breathe. it's okay. use their names. they have them for a reason. it's all good.

this isn't to say that you SHOULDN'T do that, just do it when it makes sense to. if height is something the characters are noticing then use "the shorter boy". if age is relevant, eye colour, hair colour, whatever -- go ahead and use them. but don't be excessive with it. i should not be having to read the bluenette more than i'm reading shuichi's actual goddamn name.

✬ read

this is the huge one. reading other works informs your writing. it teaches you skills and tricks you can use. it helps expand your dialogue and your world view. it might even highlight to you things you do too much of in your own writing. read, all the time, whenever you can. it doesn't have to be books. it can be fanfic, articles, whatever -- just keep reading, because you will be passively absorbing knowledge during that time and it'll help you grow as a writer.

✬ practice

BOOOOOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO! SHE SAID THE THING SHE SAID IT!

but listen, it's literally just true. i write almost every day for at least a couple of hours and i have been on a trend of consistent growth for the past five years. go read my fics from 2019 if you don't believe me. i've grown fast and i've grown constantly. you just DO grow through constant practice, even if it doesn't always seem that way.

not only that, but you start to build confidence too. writing a lot helps develop those muscles to a point where you start to realise that you ARE that good and you DO have that dawg in you. or whatever. you just have to keep at it. you're not going to magically improve thinking for six months about how you want to be a better writer without practicing anything about it.

✬ yeah, betas are good

you want to have a good editor. i know that that can feel like having someone ELSE be the reason your piece is good, but that's genuinely not it. a beta reader is a second pair of eyes on your work, someone who can tell you about the issues and mistakes you're missing. they'll tell you when something doesn't make sense. they'll point out your punctuation errors. you don't NEED to have a good editor for every crummy little oneshot... but it's good to have one.

✬ numbers are fine and all but don't compare yourself to other people

i think almost everyone in some kind of creative pursuit wants to get some kind of acknowledgement for it. we want to be the best we can be, and it can be discouraging to receive utterly no validation along the way! i get it!!

just don't get caught up in crunching the numbers. you are not as good as your fanbase is. you alone know your skillset and you absolutely should not say "well this other writer got THIS much attention" because that'll just wear you down. it really will. external validation will only keep you going for so long, and you'll always end up needing more. you HAVE to build your own personal confidence first or you'll crash and burn.

✬ read your writing out loud

there is no quicker way to see if something is wonky in your prose than reading it out loud and seeing if it makes sense verbally. i highly recommend this to anybody who struggles with sentence flow. it's a good one.

✬ yippee hooray!

🥰 and that's what i've got for now. thank you if you made it this far, please take all these tips as you will, it is all subjective of course, these are just the tips that help Me the most when i sit down to write something.

please feel free to ask me for additional advice (on specific topics if you could!) at any time, i love encouraging new writers and i am passionate about writing so i will gladly offer support in any way i can, including beta reading works for anybody who might need that.

take care now 💖

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #fanfiction tips

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lvlyghost · 10 months

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Hi I just read your “The Things I Never Said” oneshot and loved it. Can I get a kind of opposite version where Simon wishes to be a dad but the reader never wants to be a mom so she freaks out and gets an abortion with out Simons knowledge and later he somehow finds out? Maybe angst to fluff? Totally ignore this if you dont want to, have a wonderful day/night.

The Things I Wish I Said

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You decide to end things with Simon after what you did.

Word Count: 1.7k

Tw: hurt, comfort, angry simon, angst, implied abortion. Not proofread.Think that's it but lmk if i missed anything!🐸

A/N: here it is! I hope this doesn't disappoint and that it lives up to your expectations 😰🤞🏻 I really enjoyed writing this one and since it's similar to my previous fic decided to name it quite similar. ✨💞

Masterlist✨Masterpost

He doesn't know. You stare at Simon's gargantuan body as he barks orders to the new recruits. Things have been rather... tense lately. And it's all because of you.

Yesterday had taken a toll on you. A big piece of your heart and soul lost forever in that godamn clinic. You can still smell the perfume of the nurse, feel the hands of the doctor as he tried to comfort you. You're deadly pale, tired and numb. That's why you're sitting on the other side of the field, watching the rest of your team training as usual. Nothing changes for them. You on the other hand? Can't even look at Simon in the eyes. Not anymore. The one thing he wanted the most was also the one you were the most reluctant to. It just wasn't you.

You didn't have it in your DNA. To be a mother. To carry a baby in your arms. And not because you're selfish, but you had decided a long time ago that having children was off the table.

Even when everybody would say 'you'll change your mind when you find the one'. Well it was a blatant lie because you found him. You loved Simon. You'd do whatever he asked of you. Just not this. And you hate yourself for it.

You lied to him and didn't mention anything. Didn't tell him you were pregnant with his offspring.

Couldn't even bare to maintain a conversation with him. And he's starting to notice the way your body startles when he reaches out to you. How you avoid his gaze or not kiss him anymore.

"Feeling better?" He questions, strong arms crossed. Simon doesn't fully look down where you sit but side eyes you. He awaits. You're looking out to the field, ignoring his presence as you swallow the lump in your throat.

"Not really, Lieutenant." You simply add, in a hushed tone.

He sighs but doesn't move, starting to lose his patience. He's trying so hard to understand why you're acting like this. He's preoccupied. Anxious. Yet doesn't let it show, remaining stoic as ever.

"Wanna talk about it, Sergeant?" Biting down on your lip and fidgeting with your hands you shake your head. Simon rubs his face, annoyed that whatever the fuck is happening is driving the both of you apart, so he sits down on the bench next to you. "What is it?" He turns his head to you. Arms resting on his knees.

"Simon..." you warn him with a sad tone.

"No. That's an order."

"Sir, we're done here..." One of the recruits shouts from the other side.

"You bloody keep going until I tell you to stop!" He seethes, making you flinch.

Resting your head on your hands, start thinking about the inevitable. About what you're going to do. Your heartbeat racing when you feel his eyes on you again.

"Simon..." you say. "I... I- don't think we should be together right now." It hurts deep inside because all that's left is the rustling of wind and the voices of the soldiers around. You don't turn to see his reaction, probably wouldn't be able to stand it. It's not because you didn't love him. In fact, you loved him more than he could imagine. It's what you did behind his back what's eating you alive. And the best way you can seem to cope with it is to leave him.

Not a sound comes from him for the next few seconds. Until you finally find the courage to look his way. Blue eyes scan your body.

"As you wish, kid." He whispers. You can't see it but he's already spiraling down to a dark place.

The one good thing he had...

"I've had enough!" Soap's voice booms in the hallway and then your door bursts open. You shriek, standing up from the bed. "I can't stand it anymore lass. You've gotta talk to him." He says.

"Johnny... we've talked about this." You murmur.

"No. I'm being serious! Ghost is more irritated than usual, he almost punched me for saying he needed to get laid. The bloody hell happened to you both?" His eyebrows furrow. "You need to figure this out, otherwise..."

"It's complicated." You deadpan.

"Well then bloody make it right! Steaming fucking Jesus you two acting like fucking children. Grow the hell up."

You had never seen Johnny this mad.

Of course you were aware of Ghost's attitude since you two broke up. And it's only been three weeks. You've been attending the military counselor since then, it's a sorrowful feeling when you think about Simon, while you talk about him. About what led to the end of your relationship or whatever it was that you two had going on.

"I believe what you went through was hard and painful. But I do think that he deserves an answer." she had insisted. "He needs to know."

It was easier said than done. Every time you thought about going to his room or wherever he'd be you got this uneasy feeling, like he somehow despised you now. That all the soft smiles and gentle caressing that were once just for you had turned into frowns and harsh commands. Dismissing you whenever you showed up to training. Not even making eye contact during debriefs. Walking right past you in the corridor. You can't help but wonder if the baby's eyes would've been more like him or yours.

Stop.

The counselor said it was a type of ptsd and that therapy would help you get through it.

"The first step is to let yourself feel that pain, make amends with it, and then go see him."

"I'll try to talk to him Johnny. I promise." You murmur, jaw clenching.

The mere thought of going to speak to Simon made your hands sweat and your heart beat frantically.

Three days after the conversation with Soap, you stand in front of Simon's bedroom door. Blinking rapidly as your mind races with all the things you ought to say. It's almost one in the morning, unable to sleep you decided the conversation couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't wait anymore. Swallowing down saliva you raise your hand, two soft knocks on the door echoing in the empty hallway and you wait patiently, fumbling with your hands as the anxiety begins to raise.

Simon doesn't open so you knock again two times only to be greeted by more silence and a loud thunder outside in the sky.

A quiet huff leaves your mouth as you turn on your heel and leave. Wandering around the compound with no clear direction. It's dead silent, you're left with your own self destructive thoughts as you walk past the gym. A low thud can be heard from behind the doors so you backtrack and take a glimpse through the window.

Why is he at the gym at this ungodly hour?

Pushing past the door you walk sluggishly, Simon's quick to notice the disturbance, ready to snap at whomever is here to interrupt his midnight routine. It's been like this for weeks now; not being able to sleep. The nightmares that had disappeared for the most part came back with full force.

There's a hollow feeling inside of him ever since you decided to call it quits. He doesn't fucking understand, he's mad. Furious even. Can't help the anger whenever he wakes up and you're not there anymore. Can't bear the sight of you during debriefings and not even looking his way. The way you freeze when he has to order you around.

Had he done anything to make you fearful of him?

He needed to know, he needs answers. He'd ask tomorrow. He swears. Whatever it was. Then he'll walk away.

He stands from where he was about to start the second round of push-ups. Simon's able to recognize your silhouette with the lights off, he just knows you that well. Wherever you were, in a sea full of people he'd know it's you even then.

"Sorry..." you murmur. Simon's looking at you over his left shoulder through the mirror in front of him, you stand a few steps behind him. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

He stays silent. It's now that you come to realize that he isn't wearing the mask, instead lies on the room floor, discarded. "Was looking for you in your room but-"

"Say it." He barks, turning around and stalking towards you. His presence alone making you feel smaller. His brows are knitted, jaw clenched so hard you're sure he'll break his teeth. Simon is massive. Yet, despite all of this you know he'd never lay a finger on you, nor hurt you. "Fucking start talking, kid." The hurt in his voice is palpable. You fumble with your hands, it's getting harder to keep your eyes on his. You do not deserve his love at all. "Because I've been losing my mind ever since you shut me out."

A soft wail escapes your lips, you try to muffle it. Simon hesitates for a second. Wanting nothing more than to hold you in his arms, he awaits.

"I... I- got pregnant." You cried. "And you've always known I never wanted that. I panicked and didn't say a word because it would be more painful or...-" you swallow through incessant tears. "Or so I thought. I decided to get rid of it, Simon. But seeing what's done to us. What I've done... I'm so fucking sorry I don't deserve-"

Suddenly you're engulfed by strong arms and a broad chest as you finally let go and cry rivers of pain and regret. He's murmuring sweet things in your ear that you can't understand die to your deteriorating situation.

"It's okay. It's okay, love. Fucking hell, should've come to me." He growled. "Don't you ever do this to me again, kid. You didn't have to do it alone. Christ."

There's a soft kiss on the top of your head as your cries start to die down and all there's left are soft whimpers.

"I never meant to leave you, but I couldn't be close to you after what I did behind your back." You sniff.

The ever gentle caressing of his thumb on your back never ceases, providing the comfort you so desperately seek.

"S'alright, love. Nothing to be sorry about." He takes a step back keeping you at arms length. "There she is." A little broken but starting to be pieced back together. He gently wipes your cheeks and breathes deep. "I'm here. Always."

796 notes · View notes

namfinessed · 13 days

Text

come closer, come closer - k.nj.

genre: fluff, angst (8.7k) (slowburn! sliceoflife!)

summary: nothing in your life is permanent, you would never let anything be permanent, but namjoon nestles his way in and refuses to leave, will you let him stay or would he remain something temporary? or a fic in which a friends-with-benefits situation with namjoon gets twisted out of control. (colors!universe)

note: all of the stories in the series can be read individually <3

masterpost series masterlist

fate used to amuse you, the concept of people, the many people, their many stories, their many love stories, some that made sense to you, some that seemed like absolute madness, but all of them stories you sat and listened to, you sat and read about because stories to you, were a window to what life could be.

and your life changed when namjoon entered it. it seemed like too much of the world aligned so that you would fall for him, it seemed like madness, and it made perfect sense.

everything that happened after meeting him, was truly out of your hands.

it was an off day at work. you hummed as you breezed past the shelves of books surrounding you, nothing brought you more peace than this.

today, your mission was to find a particular book.

at the end of the matinee by keiichiro hirano.

the book was about two people, close to their forties in age, who fall in love, but with the caution, wariness, and desperation that comes with that age. one of them was a world-renowned ‘genius’ guitarist whereas the other was a trauma journalist, their universes couldn’t be more different but seemed to align just for them. when you had heard about it, you knew immediately you had to read it, it was this concept of love that you had never explored before.

your eyes darted to every title as quickly as they could, but you could feel yourself getting impatient as you passed by more shelves, none of them had the book you wanted.

the front desk lady lied when she reassured you that it was in row 3, you were in row 15 now and it was nowhere to be found.

a deep irritation settled under your skin as you cursed the skies and stars for doing this to you, you continued your grumbling as you sat down with a huff at a table. of course, two good things, a day off and the book you so desperately wanted, wouldn’t happen all at once to you. rarely, one good thing happened to you in a day so, this was nothing new.

but still, you were so invested in the world of that book, that you wanted to dive into that world and never float back up because a love so tender, at an age where everything feels the same and your skin sheds its youth, fascinated you.

and today, you won’t get to dive in, you won’t get to be lost in a world that didn’t belong to you.

“excuse me, that’s my seat.” a hush of a voice filled your ears. you immediately removed yourself from the seat and moved a seat up, scrolling on your phone aimlessly.

maybe you will find another book.

maybe there is another world that you could live in, for now.

then, it hits you.

the scent of something soft, a cloud, a pillow. the scent wraps around you, taking you with its softness. you know that scent.

you peek up to see a man next to you. he was wearing a baby blue sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, a baseball cap, and a mask.

the softness that distracted you.

and in his hands, he held the book that you were wishing the gods above and below for.

you know those hands.

he was the one who took your precious book before you did?

you didn’t own it by any means but that didn’t mean you weren’t highly frustrated that it ended up in his hands, of everyone else.

“you.” you said, as calmly as you could.

namjoon bites back a grin at the frustration in your voice. “yes?”

“you know i’ve been looking for this namjoon, this isn’t fair.” you bark out, leaning forward to grab the book from him but he just holds it above himself, knowing you won’t be able to reach it. you sink back into your seat with a frown on your face and namjoon sighs.

he’s never had a problem telling someone no, in fact, he’s enjoyed turning down some overly excited people but when it came to you, denying you of something just wasn’t possible for him, even if it was as a joke.

the book plopped in front of you and your frown immediately melted, and you grabbed it into your arms, namjoon rolled his eyes with a fond smile growing on his face.

“give it to me when you come over someday.”

your relationship with namjoon was hard to describe, you were sort-of friends, sort-of friends who had read books together, sort-of friends who hung out without saying a word, and sort-of friends who occasionally had sex.

it all started when a mutual friend introduced you to him at a horrid party that you hated being at, namjoon hated it too and he made that clear, so you decided to spend your time doing something else.

and soon, it became a regular occurrence and it was working well, you two understood what the other wanted and had no qualms about giving it to them.

namjoon pulled out his book as well and you peeked at it curiously.

lovers in the night by mieko kawakami.

strange.

you added that book to your to-read list yesterday.

“you can just ask to see it if you want, you know?” he tuts at you teasingly, watching your eyes dart towards his book, you scoff at him and sink into your seat.

then, there was silence, only the sound of pages turning and both of your breaths coming out in the space. you liked that, you never had to talk to namjoon to be present with him and so far, this arrangement worked perfectly for you.

but you caught yourself peeking in his direction again, this time, it wasn’t his book, it was him, the way he sat, the way he turned the pages sharply, the way his breath came out slow and you had no excuse for your curiosity.

“tonight, your place?” his question came casually and you nodded as soon as the words left him.

you couldn’t help but think that you had agreed too quickly.

“i don’t understand the point of this movie” you say to namjoon, lying across his chest and your body shakes with his as a low laugh tumbles out of him. he has come to be extremely fond of your quick irritation to things.

“you read so much romance, i thought you would’ve gotten it by now” he sips his wine and you feel the urge to tip it over his white sweatshirt, just for his sarcastic tone. namjoon sees the glare on your face and feels the strangest satisfaction wash over him.

“don’t make me pour the bottle on you.” you eye the bottle that was near your feet and he promptly reaches out to put it near him with a tut which makes you giggle.

chungking express wasn’t your usual movie.

there was no rosy romance filled with confessions and promises.

there were just stolen glances, just hoping that someone else wouldn’t take them, just the characters in a world that changed too quickly, just memories that never faded.

it both fascinated and confused you.

why did love have to be so confusing?

if two people liked each other, was it so hard to just say the words and be together?

why did anything else matter?

he notices your confusion, the deep frown on your face is a dead giveaway, and namjoon, shamefully admits to himself, that he finds it cute.

“i can hear your mind all the way here” namjoon taps your temple and you shift to sit with a groan. “i just don’t understand what’s so hard.”

he already wanted to pull you back on his chest but he clears his throat instead.

“please fill me in.”

“if she likes him, why didn’t she just tell him?” you point to the character who was now staring adoringly at her lover, this was just one out of the many times that they’d met and she was yet to make a move.

namjoon stares at the character, all of the words she wants to say die inside of her but her eyes stay alive with the love she holds for her object of admiration.

“i guess it’s not so easy.”

“what is not easy about just saying the words?” you rolled your eyes.

namjoon’s answer is quick, maybe too quick, “i don’t know, giving someone a piece of your most vulnerable form is scary, there is always fear in affection.”

he leaned back uncomfortably after saying it, not knowing if he should’ve said anything at all.

but to you, something about the way namjoon spoke, always put you in a daze. you never heard someone talk the way he did and you weren’t supposed to like the way he talked. “you sound like the wise tortoise from kung fu panda.” you snicker at him instead of blurting out that his words warmed your heart.

in a world where affection and love were dying, namjoon gave a more comforting reason as to why it was dying, maybe it wasn’t the factual reason, but it helped you feel better anyway.

he scrunches his eyebrows and scoffs at you, “he’s my favorite character so, fuck you.” you laugh at his annoyed face and throw your legs over his feet, he adjusts himself and you sink into the side of his arm. namjoon could feel his body wanting you closer but he resisted, he held his arm above you and over the sofa and shoved his desires in deep.

the movie was long, you didn’t particularly like it, and you never understood why people had such a hard time figuring out their feelings but namjoon didn’t have to know. and as soon as the movie ended, he got up to leave.

“you can pick the movie next time,” he says as he puts on his shoes, looking up at you with a knowing grin. “i liked it!” you tried to save your face, following him to the main door.

well, he liked that you were at least pretending to not completely hate it, for his sake.

namjoon turns to you with a quirked eyebrow, finding it all so amusing, and before he can stop himself, he steps closer and places a single kiss on your forehead and just as quickly, steps away.

that wasn’t supposed to happen.

he doesn’t know what came over him.

“i saw you yawn five times in ten minutes, we’ll watch kung fu panda next time.” he snickered with an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach and rushed out the door, to make sure he didn’t do anything again.

and you stand, shell-shocked.

that was not a big deal.

a kiss on the forehead.

not a big deal at all.

it was not a big deal that your hands were clenched by your sides.

it was not a big deal that your cheeks stayed burning hot.

it was not a big deal that your feet refused to move away from where he left.

this shouldn’t be happening.

you guys never just watched a movie, it always led to something more but it wasn’t even in your minds today and that wasn’t okay.

you needed to remind him that your hangouts were for sex only and it can’t be anything else. you needed to remind namjoon that you were getting off track, which was unacceptable.

that night, namjoon dreamt of you in his arms, just you in his arms, that was unacceptable.

but that night, your hands reached to caress the spot where you still felt his lips. and that was also unacceptable.

you didn’t text him after that, it wasn’t intentional or anything, you just felt that things shifted that night and you didn’t like it, a little distance would set things right back to the way they were.

casual and easy.

because that’s why you two worked, it was always casual and easy with namjoon.

and you hated to admit this to yourself, but you missed him.

which wasn’t so casual and easy.

you checked every post he made on instagram, every story that he uploaded, every song he recommended, and you still answered when he texted you but you let the message hover in your notification board for a few hours and gave every excuse possible to not meet him.

and this was supposed to be easy, you never felt the need to hang out or be with namjoon before, but that feeling was growing as the days passed, without a feel of his skin, without his gaze on you, without his slow laughter flowing through your room.

you wondered how it was for namjoon, maybe he was okay, maybe he didn’t care at all, maybe he was with someone else already and that was all fine, it was how things should be.

“people do fall in love. people do belong to each other because that's the only chance that anyone's got for true happiness.”

paul from breakfast at tiffany’s spoke on the screen, he looked angry but his words plead with his lover to agree with him, to let him sweep her off her feet, he needs her to understand that they are meant to be, even if she tried to deny it, even if she believes in a world where love didn’t exist.

you watched with teary eyes as they both ended up kissing in the rain with all their love pouring into each other.

it made you feel bitter.

it made you feel…empty.

you ignore it.

with an uneasy feeling crawling down your chest, you pull out your phone and your finger immediately reaches for the instagram icon. you waste no time clicking the circle around namjoon’s profile.

god bless him for being so active.

he was at a bar, not too far away from here and he was smiling, surrounded by a large group of friends.

the uneasiness in your chest let up a bit as your lips tugged into a smile too, namjoon’s always had a nice smile.

you really wanted to see him.

as much as it killed you to come to terms with that, every inch of you was trying to run away and find him, melt in him, let him talk through the night about things you never quite understood but enjoyed listening to.

or maybe your forehead just wanted another kiss, maybe your body just wanted company for tonight, maybe you just needed him for the exact benefits your situation rewarded you with.

maybe meeting him wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all, you two had an arrangement for a reason, to give your bodies to each other.

but he was with his friends, it would be quite rude and obnoxious of you to just ask him to get out of it and meet you, just because you feel more needy than usual.

there were other ways though.

you didn’t have to go for him at all.

it was dinnertime, you were too lazy to cook, it could just be that you were hungry and decided to pick up some food. isn’t it so convenient that the place so close to you with food also has namjoon in it? but it wasn’t about him at all, the last thing on your mind.

a solid plan, if you could say so yourself.

a gush of wind pushed past you as you stood before the door to the restaurant that held namjoon on the other side. the stars were hard to see as you looked up and took a few deep breaths, it’s been so long since you’ve seen him, so long since you’ve heard his voice, so long since you’ve touched him.

(it’s been two weeks, actually.)

did you want to do this?

is this how you wanted to see him again, with some elaborate ruse?

the answer was yes.

yes, you wanted to do this and yes, this was how you wanted to see him again because you quite literally couldn’t figure out another way to see him.

texting and asking to meet was so old-fashioned.

the loud ring of the bell above your head, made you flinch as you pushed in and a string of greetings from the waiters came toward you, you politely greeted them back but your fingers twitched as you started looking for the person you had come all dolled up for.

you mean, the dish you couldn’t wait to take home and scarf down.

you quickly stepped to the counter where the menu lay and started flipping through it, not caring or seeing anything.

then you heard it.

his laughter.

which through all the noise, somehow made it to your ears.

maybe you had been paying extra attention to hear him somewhere but for now, you will just say that his laughter was too loud because why would you want to hear him when you were here for something else?

nevertheless, a look wouldn’t hurt anyone. you could just see him, satisfy this urge in you, and go back home with warm food.

if you remember the story right (you did, you rewatched it fifty times), namjoon was sitting towards the left side with a group of around six people so, you slyly scanned the left side with eagle eyes.

one quick look.

and nothing else.

and.

nothing.

else.

you told yourself that, ordered yourself that you would not be talking to namjoon.

and there he was.

your breath paused.

he didn’t look anything different from the ordinary.

he was wearing his beige trousers and t-shirt, he was wearing his worn-out beanie, he was laughing with the people around him and it was so simple, so ordinary, a scene that you would see anywhere in any restaurant.

but you wanted to run to him and hold him close, let him warm you, let him run his fingers through your hair, let him never let you go.

and you knew how dangerous it was to feel this way and how this would end for you.

that’s when you saw it.

the fear in affection, that namjoon had so gently explained to you the other day.

your “quick look” lasted more than a few minutes but you were having trouble peeling your eyes away from him.

that was until, you saw his body sit straighter and start looking around, as if he could sense someone’s gaze on him (that was on you, you were probably burning holes into him with your eyes) and you turned your body completely to the other side.

you were just overthinking it, there’s no way namjoon would sense someone casually glancing at him.

“i’ll take this to go, please” you whispered to the person at the counter while hurriedly pointing to some random dish on the menu. they looked at you with an uneasy smile and nodded slowly, you must look crazy to them.

but that didn’t matter, as long as you got your food and you got the hell out of here before namjoon noticed you, you were good with whatever they thought of you.

you scrolled through your phone, still facing fully away from him, and waited for your order to come, your foot tapping restlessly against the floor.

you kept waiting.

and waiting.

why were they taking so long?

the pace at which your foot tapped against the floor increased as you started to grow anxious.

you couldn’t stay forever, namjoon might finish his dinner, he might walk out, passing right by you and you would have to talk then and that was just-

“what are you doing, standing here?”

the tapping of your foot stopped.

exactly what you were dreading.

or exactly what you were hoping for.

you are not sure which one it is anymore.

“oh hey.” you turn around with a lame wave of your hand at the man that you don’t know what you feel for. he was looking at you with crinkled eyes and a teasing smile that picked his cheeks up and made them round.

get a grip.

“you know, the chairs at a restaurant are for sitting.” you follow his gaze to the chairs lined up near the counter.

……

you had nothing to say to that.

“i came to pick up dinner, what are you doing here?” you asked, as if you didn’t know already and he pointed towards the table that you were staring at earlier. “just with a couple of friends, do you want to join us?”

it was your rule, one that you had established wordlessly, stating clearly that you were not meant to hang out with each other’s friends but you always had wondered what namjoon was like around his friends.

was he just as snarky?

was he just as wise?

did he have an answer to everything for them as well?

you let him take your hand and walk you to the loud table, the food that you hadn’t noticed, grew cold on the counter.

“namjoon used to be so uptight then, he didn’t even help us on the test, he told us, ‘ey, i won’t be there in the future to help you out, so figure your shit out’, and he said this for one math problem, for one stupid test!” his friend, yoongi, barked out with a deepened voice to imitate namjoon and you loved every minute of it, as your head fell back in laughter.

namjoon smiled sheepishly, though his eyes threw daggers at yoongi and hid his face behind his huge hands, turning away from you.

you found that especially adorable.

“what a narc” you shoved his shoulder and, everyone erupted into loud laughter around the table. namjoon squinted his eyes and tried to give you an intimidating glare, which soon melted into a smile when you raised your eyebrows at him.

it felt so good.

he had his arm around your shoulder, you were almost buried into his side, the soft scent of his perfume enveloped around you and his friends seemed to love you. and the best of all, his eyes gazed over you constantly, to check on you or look at you, you had no idea but you enjoyed the attention nonetheless.

only if what you had was real, only if you knew namjoon as much as they seemed to, only if you could grab his neck and kiss him.

you shook your head at those thoughts, whatever this comfort zone was, it was only for tonight, you would never hang out with his friends again or be around him in this way again. you were only allowing this for tonight.

but.

you liked this so much.

“you good?” namjoon pulled you in closer to whisper to you, his eyes assessing the frown growing on your face.

no, i suddenly want to know everything about you, after ages of being fine with knowing nothing.

“yeah, all good” you smiled at him, tipping back your glass to hide the building tension in your throat. everyone around the table started standing up and namjoon pulled you up as well, but his hand stayed around you, holding you gently yet in a way that wouldn’t make it too easy for you to let go.

“it was so nice meeting you.” another friend of his, seokjin, wrapped you in a hug as namjoon’s arm stayed around your back, you smiled and hugged everyone else, as much as you could with his arm on you and they started waving their goodbyes, leaving you and namjoon.

you didn’t want to say ‘well, good to see you, let’s go back to fucking next week’, you didn’t want to wave goodbye and leave the warmth that radiated off namjoon, you didn’t want to go home, and think too much about his hand on your waist.

and namjoon surprised you.

“your place?” he asked, leading you out into the cold night as well and you felt the weight of all your doubts levitate off you, you tried to not agree too quickly but you couldn’t help but nod eagerly which made him smile in response, pulling you in tighter.

you two walked leisurely, with all the time in the world in your hands, and the night got darker, colder, and namjoon’s grip on you got tighter, warmer.

you didn’t speak a word, only stole glances at his side profile every once in a while, to make sure that somehow you hadn’t conjured this from your dreams, that this was reality and namjoon was here.

“what’s on your mind?” he catches your eyes, which were admiring his jaw and you look away, wanting to disappear into the night. he tugs on your hand, to urge you to answer him and you do, “your friends are hilarious, i had a very good time so thank you for inviting me.” the ‘thank you’ came out more awkwardly than you had thought.

but thankfully, namjoon found you endearing so he laughs at your scrunched-up face.

“i mean you were right there, i wasn’t going to let you go and eat alone in your apartment. but what a coincidence, right? us turning up at the same place. besides, i was going to ask you to meet them soon anyway.” he had a lovely smile on his face, he seemed to find the idea very charming, that you had somehow stumbled on each other and a pang of guilt shot through you for orchestrating the whole thing.

and the guilt worsened as the television played mindlessly in the background, as your body tangled around his, as his breath came too close, too loud, and his hands gripped onto your hair. you felt him everywhere and nowhere around you, it unnerved you.

you pulled apart hastily, the simple, harmless lie you told was enough to put some invisible wall between you and him. it felt wrong that he thought it was some sweet moment but it wasn’t.

namjoon immediately retracted, pulling his hands to himself but remaining close as he watched your reaction carefully, “do you want me to leave? because it’s okay if you’re not in the mood or don’t want me around right now, i get it.” the sound of his even breaths, his soothing tone, forced you to look at him.

“i lied,” you expected it to be harder to tell him but it wasn’t, namjoon sat up with an eyebrow quirked up as you explained to him that your turning up at the pub was no coincidence, that you had come there after seeing his instagram story.

“that’s it?” you nodded, skin burning with embarrassment, only looking up when you heard his low, amused laughter. namjoon shook his head at you, “but why? you can always call me, you know, i loved that you met them and had a good time.” he reached over to shut off the television and pull your legs from under you and onto his lap, his fingers tapped your thighs as you fell back on the sofa, covering your face with your hands.

“i felt like i couldn’t,” maybe it was because your voice sounded so small, maybe because he finally saw how truly upset you were about this but namjoon pulled you back and rested your head on his shoulder, “you always can, it doesn’t matter how or what or where we are, just call me and i’ll be here to finish all of your wine,” though you laughed at his words and buried yourself further into his collarbone, you knew you weren’t telling him the simple truth.

that night, once again, you didn’t do anything, you absentmindedly watched some movie, you crawled into bed next to him, he kissed your forehead, and fell asleep.

“namjoon?” you whispered against his snores, he stirred ever so slightly, hands reaching up to pat where you were sleeping, hands relaxing when they touched you.

“yeah?” he groaned into the pillow, “i came because,” you started, words swallowing down your throat, words flying out of your mouth.

“yeah?” this time, he looked up with squinted, sleepy eyes, and your heart drowned in adoration at the sight.

because i missed you.

it was simple words but how awful would it be, if you uttered them, and your heart that was drowning with adoration now, would have nothing to drown for?

“i just wanted to see you,” because you missed him so desperately, and a text or call wouldn’t have fed the hunger your longing left you with.

“i’m glad, because i missed you,” he kissed your shoulder and turned away to continue his slumber.

and left you with the same simple words you had been too scared to utter.

somehow, namjoon always voiced the simple words, even if they were naked, he voiced them as if it was nothing to put your bleeding heart out on your sleeve because missing someone was intimate, it was dangerous.

and that’s when your heart drowns again, you finally realize that namjoon has gotten closer to you.

a little too close.

what does it take for a person to be close?

is it the physical distance that lessens with every breath?

is it the emotional distance that connects you with an invisible string from miles away?

being close to someone is a fickle thing.

a person who knows everything about you, may not feel close.

but a person who tries to know you, may feel close.

namjoon feels close.

nights pass where the line between what you and namjoon were and what you were supposed to be, blurred to oblivion. you stopped questioning what it was, you stopped counting the beats your heart skipped every time he showed up at your door.

this night, both physically and emotionally, namjoon is close.

“why do you always read romantic books?” he hums, casually, as things have always been between you two as his hand lazily runs across your hair. he isn’t prying, it’s just a mild curiosity.

but it’s a question no one’s ever asked you.

you read romance to feel the love you yearn for.

that is your answer, there is a yearning in you that isn’t quenched by anything else except books that put your longing in words. it’s an answer you can’t give to namjoon.

“they’re just fun” you shrug, looking up and hoping he would buy your lie. he does not, he doesn’t try to hide that he doesn’t believe you but with a small smile and shake of his head, he lets you live with the lie.

“the real thing’s more fun.”

you remained silent.

you hugged him closer.

you didn’t sleep that night.

“have you got everything?” namjoon said, as he loaded your bags into the back of his car, “you helped me pack yesterday, namjoon, and you drilled my head for hours after to make sure of it,” you rolled your eyes at him, and he chuckled, patting your head, “just checking.”

you ignored the rush of warmth that filled your fingertips and your toes, you and namjoon were heading out of the city, into a tiny, charming town with his friends where you would spend about four days in a cabin there.

and yes, you know what it sounds like but when you received a call from namjoon, his excited, hopeful voice, you could imagine his face reflecting all of that, and you couldn’t say no.

the drive up is short, you sleep through it and namjoon plays soothing songs to avoid waking you up. the cabin is beautiful but you already know that from pictures and upon arrival, you are greeted with loud shouts and long hugs from his friends, you almost melt from all the affection they shower you with.

“this is for you,” yoongi hums as he drops a keycard into the palm of your hands before disappearing into his room and you trudge up the stairs to reach yours.

of course, you aren’t surprised when you see namjoon unpacking his clothes into drawers once you open the door, you know you had to share a room with him, considering that you are a guest on this trip.

it did make you reluctant at first but now, you were just waiting for your feelings to set you ablaze to make themselves known.

“hey, you” namjoon sings as he walks past you, but not without dropping a kiss on your temple that has your shoulders stiffening and your face tingling. “we’re going out in a bit to start a barbeque, see you there?”

you nod, your stomach reeling from the subtle touch of his hands that brush your arms before walking out the door.

you fall on the bed with your head in your hands, on days like these, you wish you could walk up to namjoon and ask him, what did you mean to him? did he think of you in the darkness of the night? did he want you around always?

because you did.

but you couldn’t ask.

drinks were passed, fairy lights descended on you, and soft singing filled the air.

“and our wise namjoon was just telling us what love is,” yoongi dramatically gestured to his red-faced, swaying friends and your ears picked up, hoseok groaned, “what did he say though?”

“that love is wanting to know someone more every day,” hoots and cheers and teases filled the air as namjoon buried his face into the side of your arm and complained endlessly under his breath.

you tried to laugh but you wanted to know everything about namjoon, what did that say about you?

and he asked you about yourself all the time, what did that say about him?

the question left you uneasy and annoyed.

“there’s a lake just around here,” jungkook looked at everyone around him with a suspicious glint shining in his eyes, then he got up, “race you there!” he yelled and took off, heavy feet thudding on the soft ground and everyone squealed in delight as they followed him.

namjoon pulled your hand with his as the cold air rushed over your face, a smile was frozen on your face and you ran until your lungs burned. it was out of a movie, the way your hair flowed, the way your laughs blended into the night, the way namjoon couldn’t stop looking at you.

then, as you expected, jungkook got pushed into the lake, he surfaced to yell at jimin only to break into giggles, and soon, everyone was trying to push everyone.

but namjoon only wanted to push you.

you ran around, escaping his touch in mere seconds, looking back breathlessly to see if he was near, and when he did catch you, he didn’t just throw you in, he threw both of you together.

you fell into the water, a laughing, bumbling mess but as cold as the night was, namjoon was warm so you snuggled into his neck and he held you with strong arms that wouldn’t let you drown.

close.

namjoon was so close.

“oh god, the couple’s at it again,” jin groaned and splashed water on the two of you and namjoon laughed out loud, pushing more water onto jin’s face.

but jin was wrong.

“we’re not a couple,” you nervously laughed, hands instinctively loosening around namjoon’s neck and he froze under you, his hands loosening around you as well as he cleared his throat.

jin swam away before he had to deal with the tension between you two.

namjoon’s arms left your body and you felt something break inside you as he pulled himself out of the water and wordlessly offered you, his hand. you grabbed it unsurely, not looking at him either.

you both didn’t speak at all until you reached your room.

“why did you say that?”

“say what?” you sat on the bed, picking on the lint that gathered on the sheets, unwilling to look at him.

“don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about, you’re smarter than that and i know it,” namjoon pinned you with serious eyes, making your heart burn in your chest, “but we’re not a couple.” you whisper, hands tightening on the sheets.

namjoon sighed, a heavy sigh, a sigh that conveyed irritation, disappointment, and restrained anger.

“i don’t understand why you’re upset, we are not a couple,” your irritation reared its head and namjoon shook his head, sitting beside you.

“are we not?” his question is breathless, lifeless, it’s waiting for you to revive it, pour life into it, and your eyes water without any command from you.

you think of the nights you spent together, the laughs you laughed together, the meals you’ve eaten together, the words that grow into a tower between you two and you think, yes, perhaps you are a couple without ever knowing it.

but it wasn’t supposed to be this.

“we had an arrangement,” you fight on, “which went to shit the second you met my friends,” he counters and you bite your lip, annoyed.

“i didn’t plan for that to happen.”

“but it happened.”

“do you really not know?” he asks again, and you know what he’s going to say, you turn away, legs coming to close around your chest.

his eyes widened and with a smile filled that held gentle surprise, he spoke as if his own words shocked him, as if he couldn’t believe he brought them to life.

“i like you. no actually, i love you.”

“don’t.”

namjoon moves away, physically his body flinches from you.

you silently crawl up on the bed and lay your head on the pillow, you gather your courage which crumbles when he comes up too and his hands find yours, he squeezes in question, what do you mean?

why did it have to be him, of all people?

“don't like me cause i don't know how to like you back, not in the way you want and not in the way that will ever be enough for you,” you say quickly, wanting this torture inside you to give up and go home, so you can finally be at peace with yourself.

it took all of two minutes for namjoon to remove himself from you.

and he left you in the bed, you clutched the pillowcase as you heard his footsteps recede from the room and you flinched when the door shut.

you cried, you put your arms around yourself and cradled your face to sleep, maybe it would be nice to feel someone else hold you but you couldn't let that be namjoon, it had to be someone that you could hurt and be okay with it.

namjoon was ignoring you, he didn’t come back to the room that night and now, he was sitting a few feet away from you and you couldn’t ignore the way everyone glanced between you two.

“the fireworks will start at 8, everyone be back by then,” jin announced, receding from the gathering and going back into the home.

“come, okay? we’ve got drinks and food,” jungkook squeezed your shoulder as he walked past, of course, he noticed you and namjoon not talking and he was sweet for making sure you were coming. you gave him a weak smile and nod.

when you reach the place where fireworks are supposed to light up the sky, there’s only namjoon on the bench that was too long for just one person.

there was so much space.

there was so much place.

but you didn’t fit in there, not next to him.

your hands wrung the cardigan dangling on your arms as a sharp exhale tried to stabilize you.

you turn around to leave but stop in your tracks when his eyes fall on the back of your head. even without looking back, you know he’s seen you and if you left, you would feel even more pathetic.

“don’t go,” he whispers, it’s hard to hear him over the crickets chirping but his voice finds its way to you and you want to cry again, “even if we’re not talking, don’t go.”

so, you stay.

you look at the lake in front of namjoon and he looks at the empty bench next to him, he knows who should be there and you know who shouldn’t be there.

even far away, his presence suffocates you, not in a dangerous way, but in a way that you would forever want to be suffocated.

everyone else arrives loudly, carrying cans of beer and packets of food and some of them sit down, jungkook and jimin are kind enough to stand next to you and keep you company but even they know where you should’ve been instead.

the rest of the night, you remember in gaps.

you remember looking at his hand when everyone looked at the fireworks, you remember the way his face lit up with a thousand colors, you remember the way his voice cheered at the sight in the sky, you remember the way his skin traveled and embraced his body.

how was something as ordinary as skin, so extraordinary when it came to him?

you wanted to become one, to melt into him and never come back to your true self. your hand itched to touch, to reach out but instead, it tightens on your cardigan and you force yourself to look away.

when you got back home from the cabin, namjoon had dropped you at your room, carried your bags in, and left immediately after as if being in your presence was unbearable for him, which made you cry as soon as the door shut behind him.

now, you were in bed, it was tuesday and you had no one in your life again.

you watched your phone like a hawk, jumping at every ting! it made but it was never namjoon and you always found yourself wishing it was.

your arm dangled off the sofa as you watched kung fu panda play on the tv.

"your story might not have a happy beginning, but that does not make you who you are." soothsayer spoke on the screen and you watched with your lips between your teeth, ignoring the way your heart skipped over when the scene cut to the wise turtle, oogway.

you didn’t want to think of namjoon, you didn’t want to think of his laugh when you called him a wise turtle nor did you want to think of how you could be watching this with him right now.

but he was out of your life now.

and you didn’t know how to live it anymore.

you suddenly were too aware of how lonely you were and too aware of how no one could soothe the loneliness nor cure it.

you saw the book he had given you that was on your coffee table still, you saw his wine glass that was tucked away in a corner of your kitchen, you saw his sweater that you never bothered giving back and you felt yourself crumble from within.

when someone leaves your life, the life you had before them seems alien, not yours.

and your life, right now, was just not yours.

“but he wasn’t even that good-looking, so it wasn’t too sad,” your friends laughed around the table as one of them spoke, you raised your glass to your lips and sipped to kill the words inside you.

but my man was beautiful, my man was everything, so it is sad for me.

when your friends called you to meet up, it seemed like a beacon of light shoved into your life and you immediately accepted, you had to go back to your life before namjoon.

“i don’t think i’ve ever liked anyone enough to be sad after we break up,” one of them sighed and the rest followed.

but i’m so sad.

“but how do we know if we like someone that much?” you asked silently, not really meaning to and all their heads snapped to you.

“i’ve only loved that much once, and it was…strange, none of me felt like me anymore, i guess you without them stops making sense,” your friend said, her eyes shimmered with memories of her past love. the ball in your throat grew tighter and it wound itself around your entire being.

you without namjoon, didn’t make sense.

and you were close to letting him out of your life forever.

you pushed against the table, hands shaking but you were so determined, it was suddenly too clear that you needed him.

“guys, i have to go.” they all smiled and giggled as they watched you run out of the restaurant.

you ran into the pouring rain, water splashed on your sneakers and your jeans but you kept pushing forward.

if you lose namjoon now, you will never forgive yourself, if you lose him after finally realizing that you need him in your life, you will never recover from the pain.

your hands hurriedly stuffed into your bag, pulling out your phone and checking his instragram, you were blessed with a view of his home and book in his stories so you wasted no time in dialing his number, pressing it to your ear and praying to every raindrop falling on you that he would pick up.

he picked up.

you stopped in your tracks.

there was only his breathing on the other side, some static noises too, and still just the simple act of him picking up the call had you sighing out in relief.

“namjoon, please come out,” you whispered, eyes lining with tears that would join the rain on your face and he sighed, you held your breath until he spoke.

then, after a pregnant silence, he sighed again, “okay.”

you cut the call and started running again, renewed energy slammed on the ground as you ran for your life, for your love.

as you finally reached his apartment, your heart raced with anticipation. the running left you breathless, the rain was merciless but the thought of seeing him filled you with an energy that surpassed any physical exhaustion.

and you bent over, catching your breath, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. your mind raced with thoughts of what to say, how to express the feelings swirling within you. with each cough, you felt the intensity of your emotions grow, this moment, this night, this rain could change everything for you.

but you knew that whatever you said, whatever you decided to reveal, it would come from ages of knowing but denying your heart.

when someone you love leaves your life, the life you had before them stops making sense, that’s when the hollowness comes in, that’s when you realize you need them.

and you were done, you were done hiding and you were pretending that you didn’t want him under your very skin.

then, the rain stops.

to correct it, the rain stops falling on your head.

you see his shoes in front of you and muffle the cry that erupts in your throat.

you look up impatiently, so quickly that namjoon jerks back and you curse yourself with every word possible, how did you ever deny yourself of him?

“why are you here?” namjoon tries to stay stoic, and cool, even as his hands scream at him to pull you to him, to let his skin become yours and instead, his hands tighten on the umbrella he’s holding over you.

“i was wrong that day,” you gasped out, and his heart lurched even as he tried not to hope for too much, “which day?”

“when i tried to act like we weren’t anything, i was wrong, namjoon, so terribly wrong,” you shook your head at yourself, pushing your hair away from your face, your chin trembled as you tried to talk to the one person who made your heart run like a racehorse.

“and i was so scared, but i should have never lied to you or myself just because i was scared,” he listened, patient as ever, but you saw his eyes go red and the way his nose twitched with a sniff.

“but why were you scared? it’s just me,” he laughed, as if he wasn’t the most extraordinary person ever, as if everything he spoke didn’t carry a bit of magic, as if he wasn’t magic himself.

“i was scared because,” you swallowed, can you say it out loud?

something about the rain made everything look so beautiful, so pure, so vulnerable but it made your heart feel so heavy, feel so filled with dread that it might burst, because if he didn’t believe you, if he laughed and walked away, you wouldn’t know how to live with yourself.

his hand snaked up your arm and something tender floated in the air around you, something that made you feel so close to namjoon, something that felt so right. but you weren't speaking a word, nor were you touching him, but you were in front of him and he was in front of you, and just like this, you felt as if someone had laid you bare.

“when i hold me, it's imperfect, i don't touch all of me and that's fine, it's just me, but if i don't hold you perfectly, the way you deserve, i might just die from guilt,” you breathed out, chin trembling again and namjoon held your jaw, and your eyes fell close.

“if i hurt you, i can never come back from it because you’re a good person, you don’t hesitate to say things like, ‘i miss you’ or ‘i saw this and i thought of you’, but those things scare me, i’ve never said them before.”

“but?” he mused, pushing your hair behind your ear and you curled into his palm, leaning your entire face on it.

you laughed, it wasn’t happy, it wasn’t sad, it was just a sound, “but i don’t know to live without you, i need you, i miss you even when you’re away for a second, i think of you in every movie i watch and i see you in some or the other character in every book i read, i see you everywhere in my life and i need you in it.”

“my life isn’t mine without you, i love you.” you pleaded.

and everything was silent for a second, he looked at you, you looked at him, you felt his skin become yours again, you felt the relief flooding in you but you also felt desperate to hear his voice.

“at some point, you’re going to need someone to hold you, the right way i mean” namjoon spoke finally, and you nodded, grabbing onto his shirt, “it needs to be you.”

namjoon’s never been able to deny you of anything at all so he says, “it will be me. now, come here,” he pulled on your arm until you fell on his chest and the rest of the world fell into place for you, you gripped onto him as if someone was going to take him away and namjoon laughed, kissing your forehead, which sent a numbing tingle all over your body.

“i love you too.” it felt right, you didn’t want to run away and take back everything you said, you wanted to hear him say it again and again, you wanted to say it again and again.

being close to someone is a fickle thing.

a person who knows everything about you, may not feel close.

but a person who tries to know you, may feel close.

and namjoon was so close that it didn’t make sense, like many stories you’ve read in your life, but it didn’t have to.

because from now on, he was you, and you were him.

and from now on, you and him, are the magical story that you would tell to everyone else.

115 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 1 year

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Sinful Lust | myg & jjk

☆summary: in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

☆pairing: bisexual boyfriend!Yoongi x female!reader x Jungkook

☆rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

☆genre: mostly smut. a tiny little bit of angst if you squint real hard. an open-ending if I decide to make this into a full fic, snippets of life!au

☆warnings: cursing, alcohol, pet names, explicit content: lingerie set, threesome, dom!jk, sub!yoongi (with a tiny little bit of switch maybe), switch!reader, consent bc consent is important!, oral sex (female and male receiving, male on male, female on male and male on female), Jungkook has a praise kink, dirty (filthy) talking, hair pulling, jerking off, tits play, ass slapping, ass biting, deep throating, clit play, fingering, pussy slapping, ass eating, ass fingering, unprotected sex (please use protection irl), big dick!jungkook, finger sucking, mouth fucking, edging (sorry yoongi), anal sex, double penetration, choking, aftercare (none for jungkook :( )

☆word count: 10.4k

☆a/n: Yeah so. This is pure filth. I am sorry. I lost control of myself and... yeah. No regrets though. I hope you’ll enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it hahaha. Thank you @moonleeai as always for beta-ing this fic <3

☆a/n pt2: also, I switched up my writing style a little for this one bc I wanted to try something new, so my bad if it’s trash. And another thing that’s worth mentioning: I do not own BTS or any of the members. I do not know what they are like irl (I do not claim to know their personalities, sexual orientations, beliefs, etc.). This fic is just a work of fiction, so please keep that in mind while reading

☆series masterpost

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

If there is one thing you have figured out about your boyfriend, it’s that he likes men just as much as women. Has probably never really indulged into his fantasies with the male gender, but you know he desires it, in the deep dark corners of his heart.

You know he has a thing for one of his younger friends. And you can’t blame Yoongi – Jungkook is a source of fantasies even for you. With the sleeve of tattoos, piercings, and his new motorcycle, you’re pretty sure Jeon Jungkook is the initiator of a lot of fantasies in the people surrounding him. Because Jungkook is sinfully beautiful, with his long hair and muscular body. An image of lust and desire.

Yoongi is sitting across from you. Eyes lost in his book, with a strand of his long hair actually hiding his gaze from you. He hasn’t noticed you worrying at your bottom lip, or the way you have been tightening your thighs together for the last minute. You have a clear image in mind: him, going down on Jungkook. And you know Yoongi will say yes if you ask.

Indeed, he’s never refused you anything when it comes to sex. He’s happy to indulge in your own fantasies, and finds pleasure in seeing you come undone. Maybe it’s time you find pleasure in seeing him come undone.

“Yoons”, you breathe.

It’s whiny, the way you say it. Yet he keeps his attention on his book, mouth falling open. “Uh?”

“Is there something you would like to do?”

He looks infinitely confused, and his eyes finally flit to yours. “Right now?”

You nod, tilting your head to the side until it rests against the couch. Your eyes are dark, lustful, and you bash your eyelashes for him.

He immediately gets the meaning.

“Oh.” He puts his bookmark in place, before dropping the book on the coffee table. “Isn’t Jungkook supposed to drop off some stuff later?”

All part of the plan. Jungkook went on a trip to another country a few weeks ago and bought alcohol for you and Yoongi. He’s supposed to drop it off after dinner, and you can’t help the wandering thoughts in your head.

“Yeah?” you let out, sighing heavily.

With a little bit of dramatic effect too, maybe.

“What’s up with you?” Yoongi asks, and there’s the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

It’s been established in your relationship that Yoongi is bisexual. So you don’t feel a tug of regret when you say, “Would you ever be interested in having sex with a man?”

A confused line appears between his eyebrows. “While dating you? I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

You keep silent, wetting your lips, and it takes him a moment for him to understand that that’s not what you meant.

“Oh”, he lets out again. He chuckles, and the smirk reappears on his lips. “What has been troubling your thoughts, sunshine?”

“I know you want it”, you simply state.

He’s not stupid enough to deny it, so he remains silent.

“What do you think about a threesome?” you ask.

At that he ponders for a time. “I don’t know if I’d like sharing you with someone else.”

You had expected that answer. But you know what to say to convince him otherwise. “What do you think about Jungkook?”

You don’t miss the light flush that moves on Yoongi’s cheeks. It’s echoed on your own cheeks.

“What about him?”

You cock an eyebrow, because Yoongi knows just as well as you what you’re implying.

“He’d never say yes.”

Your fingers travel up to your lips, and you pinch the bottom one between your index and thumb. You think for a time. Yoongi is not wrong. You have no idea how you’d convince Jungkook to do something like that. Even if Jungkook is the type to sleep around a lot, you don’t know if he’s ever done anything similar.

More than that, you don’t know if he’d be willing to have sex with one of his friends. But Jungkook… Always willing to offer a helping hand Jungkook… You’re pretty sure he’d do anything for one of his hyungs.

“There’s no hurt in asking”, you point out.

Yoongi folds his arms on his chest. “It could make our friendship pretty awkward.”

You have an inkling Jungkook won’t say no though. So you offer your best puppy eyes to Yoongi.

He chuckles, and shakes his head. But you know by the blush that hasn’t left his cheeks that Yoongi is just as willing as you are to ask.

Maybe he’s been thinking about it himself, you wonder.

You figure you should prepare, if you’re to ask Jungkook tonight. Yoongi helps, and you realize he’s a lot touchier than he usually is. Kissing your neck while he’s hugging you from behind, pressing you against him. It’s his way of saying thank you. You know he probably won’t voice the words, but he’s the man you love.

You know him well enough after all.

The hours tick by slowly, and when you hear the doorbell ring you both startle. You look at Yoongi, and he offers you no salvation. You’re the one that will have to ask.

You make your way to the door, opening it to reveal Jungkook. He’s just as attractive as ever, with his oversized black t-shirt that hides the upper part of his sleeve of tattoos. You drink in the sight, offering him a warm smile as he greets you with his bunny grin.

“Hey Jungkook”, you reply, and you open the door wider for him.

He doesn’t hesitate, stepping in and around you. “Yoongi-hyung!” he says as a way of greeting your boyfriend.

Yoongi has moved closer, and he grabs the bottle of whiskey Jungkook has brought back from Scotland. You notice your boyfriend looks a little uncomfortable, but Jungkook’s eyes have already moved back to you.

“How was the trip?” you ask as you close the door behind him, leaning against it.

Jungkook is holding his biker helmet in one hand. Your thoughts provide you with an image of him riding the motorcycle, and it’s all you can do not to bite your lips.

“It was awesome”, he says. “Road tripping around Great Britain was way more fun than I thought it would be.”

You cock your head to the side prettily. “Was it?”

Jungkook nods, and his eyes dip on your frame. You think he hasn’t noticed the way you’re dressed before, because his eyes widen a little.

You’re wearing jeans, with a set of lingerie under a shirt. Your oversized white dress shirt probably hid it at first, but Jungkook’s gaze takes a while before moving back up to your face.

You’re pretty sure it has gotten a shade darker by the time he meets your gaze again.

“It was”, he replies. He glances at Yoongi, probably wondering if the scorching look you’ve been eyeing him with is normal, or if something’s wrong with Yoongi.

Yoongi is still holding the whiskey bottle, and he raises it a little. “Want a glass?”

Jungkook is a smart man. He doesn’t always let it show, but you know those big, doe eyes of his notice everything. You almost think you won’t even have to ask out loud. He’s already connected the dots by the time he looks back at you.

“I hoped you’d ask.” The words are said in a lower tone than the voice he usually uses. It feels intimate, and a drop of warmth moves down your spine.

“You’ve gone so far to get it for us, it’s only normal we offer some to thank you.”

He gulps. You know he’s fighting internal demons right now, trying not to gaze down at your breasts again. So you push up from the door, walking around Jungkook, close enough for your arm to brush his.

“Why don’t you come in?” you say over your shoulder, as you make your way to the kitchen to get glasses.

You and Yoongi form a great team. Because by the time you join them in the living room, Jungkook is sitting on one end of the couch, and Yoongi is turning on some ambient music. Nothing too high-key, because you don’t want to scare Jungkook away.

You need to make sure he wants this too, even if he probably has connected the dots already.

You put the glasses down on the coffee table next to Yoongi’s book before grabbing the whiskey bottle. Before you open it, you kneel down, sitting on your heels. That way when you pour Jungkook will have a direct view of your cleavage. You take your time pouring, feeling the burn of his gaze on your curves.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Yoongi comments.

He’s bold. Bolder than you thought he would be. But he always does when he becomes horny, and you know your offer has made him hornier than you’ve seen him in a while.

Jungkook tears his gaze away from you, almost reluctantly. He seems to hesitate for a time, and if he hasn’t really caught up to the vibe, he sure has now.

“I’ve always told you your girlfriend is gorgeous”, he agrees.

Yoongi has a smirk playing on his lips, but he remains silent as you finish pouring the glasses. You grab one of them, taking a small sip of the burning liquid. You let it roll on your tongue before swallowing slowly. You keep your neck arched a little, just so Jungkook can see your throat work as you swallow.

He shifts on the couch a little, spreading his muscular thighs open.

“It tastes so good”, you purr.

Jungkook’s lips part open, and he catches a breath. “Does it?”

He’s always looked like the dominant kind. From the stories he’s told you both, you know he is. But if you want to really pleasure Yoongi tonight, you have to make sure you stay in control.

“Taste it yourself”, you say, wetting your lips as you slowly get up.

You keep the same glass you just drank in, and you walk around the coffee table to offer it to Jungkook. He glances at Yoongi as you do, and Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, smiling at his friend.

Jungkook grabs the glass you hand him. You don’t let it go right away, and you smirk as Jungkook looks up at you. He plays with his piercing, before offering you a dashing smile. You let go of the glass and watch him as he takes a sip.

He swallows just as well as you just did.

Your smirk turns satisfied, and you turn back around to grab the two other glasses. You give one to Yoongi, and then you sit next to him. Your boyfriend wraps an arm around your shoulder until you’ve molded yourself perfectly at his side. He moves your hair behind your shoulder, before kissing the spot on your neck over the collar of your shirt.

You tilt your head to the side, offering him better access as he sucks on the skin, and you never gaze away from Jungkook.

You’re pretty sure he hasn’t blinked in a few minutes now.

“We’ve been thinking”, you say as Yoongi presses a wet kiss on your neck before pulling away, observing the mark he put on your skin. “We have to thank you properly.”

Jungkook shifts a little again, and if you didn’t want to keep the eye contact you would look down at his lap to see if he’s already aroused. He bites at his piercing, and his gaze moves from you to Yoongi, before resting on you again. “A glass is plenty enough.”

You know he’s lying. His voice is husky, low. You’ve never heard him speaking like that before and it only makes you want him more.

Want him for Yoongi too.

“We can offer you a lot more”, Yoongi says. He shifts too, and you know he’s already hard. You decide to be bold, and you let your free hand fall to his lap. It rests on the top of his thigh, and you gently pat him.

“We sure can”, you echo. You wet your lips, though Jungkook is looking at where you’re touching Yoongi. You don’t miss the flash of envy that moves on his features. “If you want to.”

You’re not sure if he expected you to ask for explicit consent. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, before knocking back his glass and drinking the whole of it.

Anticipation builds up in your core as his dark eyes find your face again. He’s smirking, and it’s a dangerous look on his features. You’re pretty sure he can consume both you and Yoongi if he wants to.

“If I want what?”

He’s teasing. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, and it only burns brighter as your hand moves to Yoongi’s dick. You palm him through his jeans, and Yoongi rests his forehead against the back of your shoulder. Probably because he’s growing shy, and he’s afraid Jungkook is going to refuse.

“We could make you feel good”, you purr. You palm Yoongi harder. “Couldn’t we, baby?”

He moans against the back of your shoulder, and you let a dangerous smirk of your own move on your lips.

“Pretty sure that meant yes.”

Jungkook shifts. This time your eyes betray you and they fall to the bulge that has already appeared in his pants. He looks big, but you quickly move your gaze back up to his face.

“You guys want to fuck me?”

Jungkook is crude. You didn’t expect that from him, yet it suits him well. It suits his fuckboy persona far more than you thought it would. But it also explains why he’s been able to sleep around like that – he knows what he’s doing.

Yoongi looks up from your shoulder at that. He surprises you with his next words. “We want to show you how you’ve been good for us.”

Yoongi is not the dominant type. It happens, sometimes, and you didn’t think it’d come out when you’d be with Jungkook. You’re happy it has though, because Jungkook loses the dark look. It turns into want, unexpectedly, and it makes you understand one thing: he has a praise kink.

“Such a good boy, who bought whiskey for us. Right, Yoons?”

Yoongi sinks his teeth into your shoulder. It takes you by surprise, and you let out a small moan. Jungkook watches carefully, putting his glass down on the coffee table. You drink from yours, never breaking eye contact, a little like you did earlier.

It works just as well, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook shifts purposefully closer to you. He’s not close enough for you to touch, but you can tell he wants it.

“You’re going to jerk him off in front of me?” he asks.

He’s figured out the dynamic of sex between you and Yoongi, hasn’t he? He knows you’re the dominant one, and something about it makes him want to dominate Yoongi with you.

Jungkook is right where you want him to be.

“I might”, you say innocently. “Would you like that?”

You cock your head to the side, and Yoongi goes back to sucking a mark on your skin. It makes your focus on Jungkook waver a little, and heat pools at your core.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to know for a time. He’s probably never been in a situation like that before. But he finds the strength to smirk, nodding once. “I wonder what kind of sounds hyung makes when he comes.”

Yoongi bucks his hips, searching for more friction. Jungkook is turning him on far quicker than you usually do.

“Then why don’t you help me get him out of his pants?”

The question takes Jungkook aback. He didn’t expect you’d want him to participate in pleasuring Yoongi, didn’t he?

He wets his lips, his tongue playing with his piercing for a time, before he replies. “I’m not sure what you want me to do.” He looks like he wants to please though.

“Why don’t you get on your knees in front of him?”

Jungkook’s mouth is parted. He doesn’t know what to do, but he watches you bite your lower lip, before nodding once again. While he positions himself, you take the glass of whiskey out of Yoongi’s hand, before putting it along with yours on the coffee table. It brings Jungkook very close to you and you freeze as he grabs your jaw. His face is inches away from yours when he says, “Can I at least kiss you before I suck his dick?” Because he knows that’s what you want. He understood as soon as you suggested him kneeling in front of Yoongi.

Yoongi’s breathing grows louder. Jungkook lets you turn your head towards your boyfriend. You make sure Yoongi is willing, cocking an eyebrow in question. He pats your back, sitting back on the couch to watch.

Your eyes trail back to Jungkook, and you see him swallow once as you close the distance between the two of you, one hand landing on the nape of his neck to bring him closer. He kisses you slower than you expected, and his piercing presses an indent into your lips. When he swipes at your bottom lip with his tongue, you open your mouth.

Jungkook is a good kisser. It takes you aback, and you moan in his mouth. The moan turns to a pained whimper when Yoongi grabs your hair and pulls you back.

“Enough”, he says.

You think he’s angry, but you only notice that he’s freed his dick from his pants while you were kissing Jungkook. And he’s slowly stroking it. For a second, you bite your lip, wanting to dive down and wrap your lips around his tip, but you resist.

The goal is to get Jungkook to suck his dick, not you.

Jungkook seems taken aback. He’s breathing heavily, lips parted as his eyes avoid Yoongi’s dick. He looks at your boyfriend’s thighs, at his face, but he clearly ignores the dick that’s standing prettily about a foot in front of his face.

“Don’t be shy”, you encourage him.

Jungkook blushes a little, and his eyes settle on you. “I’ve never done this before.”

The little bit of insecurity that shines on his face takes you by surprise. You gently cup his cheek, glancing back at Yoongi once before you focus on Jungkook.

“You’re so good at everything”, you praise. He swallows, listening to you intently. “Show me that you can be good at this too.”

When you pull him closer to Yoongi’s dick, Jungkook doesn’t resist. He follows your lead, until his mouth is but an inch away from your boyfriend’s cock. Yoongi is holding it up, and he’s watching Jungkook with round eyes.

You can tell he’s wanted this for a while by the bead of precum that sits on the slit.

“Why don’t you lick it first, mmh?” you encourage Jungkook. “So you can get a taste.”

He gulps, and his eyes flutter shut as he obeys. Yoongi sucks in a breath as Jungkook licks at his slit, hesitantly at first. But then he seems to steel himself, and he swirls his tongue around the tip of Yoongi’s dick once, then twice.

You can tell Yoongi’s aching to grab the back of Jungkook’s head so he can fuck his mouth by the way his grip on you tightens. It hurts a little, but you’re fascinated. You can’t look away as Jungkook wraps his lips around the head, sucking once.

Yoongi hisses, before letting out a low, “Shibal”.

You think the word is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard Yoongi say before.

“See, you make him feel so good already”, you praise Jungkook, and he lets out a small moan.

He likes it. That much you can tell. He really does, because one of his hands replaces Yoongi’s at the base of his dick. That frees your boyfriend’s hands, and it doesn’t take him long to pull you in a heated kiss that leaves you breathless. You suck on his tongue and swallow the moans he lets out as Jungkook starts bobbing his head up and down. Slowly at first, then finding a rhythm that seems to be comfortable.

Probably because Yoongi has moved one hand to Jungkook’s hair, and he’s guiding him down on his dick. It’s your turn to moan now, and you go back to kissing Yoongi.

He’s panting, trying to focus on your lips, but some part of you tells you he wants to look at Jungkook. So you pull away and sure enough Yoongi’s eyelids shoot open, and his gaze glues to where Jungkook is working on him.

Jungkook is holding your boyfriend’s cock up with his tattooed hand. His long fingers make Yoongi seem smaller than he looks in your own hand, but you know your boyfriend stretches you well enough. You already think about fucking yourself on his dick, using Jungkook’s spit as lube…

You need friction, and soon. You quickly shrug off the cotton dress shirt. Jungkook opens his eyes, and his gaze trails to you. He drinks you in as you palm one of your breasts through the lingerie. It makes you feel hot, even though he’s currently almost choking on your boyfriend’s dick.

Especially as Yoongi bucks his hips, and he hits the back of Jungkook’s throat. You’re surprised to hear Jungkook moan, and for a time you think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve heard in your life.

You’ve unbuttoned your pants by the time Jungkook has blinked some tears away, and you’re pulling them down your legs when he sits back on his heels to catch his breath.

Yoongi is a mess. Head thrown back against the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down each time he swallows or gulps. You’re pretty sure he could finish like that, but you want to give him more.

“You’re so good”, you praise Jungkook. “You could make him come like that.”

Jungkook slowly jerks Yoongi off while his eyes trace every curve of your body, as if you’re a piece of art he has yet to understand. He doesn’t seem like he wants Yoongi to come down his throat, and you’re not sure you can blame him. But still he looks at the two of you with fire in his gaze. He doesn’t want to stop either, and you watch him battle conflicted emotions for a time.

“But aren’t we supposed to be the ones making you feel good?” you add, offering him salvation.

“I feel good”, he admits, and he flushes deep red.

You smirk, playing with your tit again. You pinch your nipple through the fabric, brows almost touching as you let out a small moan. Jungkook has stopped jerking off Yoongi by now, and you look down at your boyfriend’s dick. He’s leaking precum, and you bite on your lip.

“Do you think I should suck him too?” you ask. Before Jungkook can reply, you turn your attention to Yoongi. He’s already looking at you through half-lidded eyes. “Will you be a good boy and not come down my throat, mmh?”

Yoongi doesn’t seem like he can even think coherent thoughts. Still he nods, mostly because he’s probably on the verge of an orgasm and he has no sanity left.

You look at Jungkook. He’s sat back on his heels, and he’s palming himself through his pants. The bulge has grown a lot more by now, and you weren’t wrong before: he clearly has a huge dick.

You salivate at the thought, knowing just how well it matches his large frame. You wonder if he tastes like your boyfriend. You’re not sure Yoongi would like you doing that; he’s shown a little possessiveness earlier when you were kissing Jungkook. So you focus on taking off your jeans for now. The fabric feels too tight against your skin, and you need them off before you start blowing Yoongi’s dick.

Jungkook watches you, as does your boyfriend. You’re stuck not really knowing what to do next. Because both men clearly want something from you. You’re surprised when Yoongi speaks up.

“Do you want to taste her too?” he asks.

Your eyes widen a little, and Jungkook gulps once. “If you don’t mind.”

“She’s got the sweetest taste, of course I don’t mind.”

You meet Yoongi’s gaze. You realize he’s doing this for you. He knows you find Jungkook attractive too, and he’s ready to give you what you want.

It makes you love him even more. So you go in for a kiss, kneeling next to Yoongi.

You startle when Jungkook slaps your ass. “Why don’t you get in a position where I can eat you out while you take my place at hyung’s dick, mmh?”

You almost forgot Jungkook is more on the dominant side too. If you weren’t already soaking through the lingerie, you know his words would have made you drip.

You obey him, mostly because you’re afraid Yoongi’s going to change his mind. But your boyfriend doesn’t seem like he will, and he offers you a sweet smile and a nod of his head to indicate that he wants this just as much as you do.

You stop hesitating. While you get on all fours, Yoongi finishes taking off his pants and underwear. His skin is red where the pants have been tight against his skin, and you massage his thighs mindlessly while Jungkook moves.

He takes off his shirt, and you’re pretty sure both you and Yoongi have frozen as he stands next to you, the hard planes of his body making both of you salivate. Jungkook works out a lot, and the results are satisfying, giving him a body you could spend hours admiring. He looks like a perfect Greek god, and you’re struck dumb. It doesn’t last long, because he quickly moves behind you, sitting on the couch until his face is at a level with your raised ass.

Before you have a chance to turn and focus on Yoongi’s dick, Jungkook bites in your ass, hard, and then sucks on the skin.

He’s been dying to leave a mark on you too since he saw Yoongi do it, hasn’t he? It makes you moan, and as your pussy clenches around nothing, you grab Yoongi’s cock by the base to bring it up to your mouth. And you’re relentless, sucking him just how you know he likes it. You’re probably better than Jungkook, just because you know how to please Yoongi like the back of your hand, and his cock hardens in your mouth.

You know Yoongi could come just like that. But he told you he wouldn’t, and you trust him. So you give him your best, taking as much of him in as you can, keeping the gag reflex in as he hits the back of your throat. One of your hands starts playing with his balls, with just the right pressure, and you moan around his cock loudly when Jungkook cups your pussy through the lingerie set.

“She’s soaked”, he tells Yoongi.

Yoongi chuckles. “She’s probably dying to be fucked.”

Oh the little shit. Jungkook slaps your ass again, and it stings. “I assume you’ll be the one to fuck her.”

“Don’t think she can take both of us at the same time.”

Listening to them talk about fucking you like that is making you forget what you’re supposed to do. You make to pull away, but then someone holds your head in place.

“We didn’t say you could stop.”

It’s Jungkook. And as he holds you down, Yoongi starts fucking up in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. If you weren’t busy choking around the dick in your mouth, you’d hear the sound of kissing.

Indeed, Yoongi pulled Jungkook into a kiss, and surprisingly enough Jungkook didn’t resist. No, he’s been enjoying this far more than he expected he would.

You blink back tears as Yoongi keeps hitting the back of your throat. It’s not your first time doing something like this, though Yoongi is usually softer with you. It seems bringing Jungkook into the action has changed him, because he’s relentless, fucking your mouth hard.

You don’t care. Not a single bit, because Jungkook has pulled the lingerie set to the side, just enough for two of his long fingers to start drawing circles on your clit. You moan, and the sound is echoed by a grunt from Yoongi.

“You’re two messes”, Jungkook says as he dips his fingers inside of you up to the first knuckle. He’s collecting your juice, and a second later he’s back to drawing quick circles on your clit. “Begging to be fucked by me.”

The moan Yoongi lets out this time is higher pitched. More like a whine, and you choke around his dick as he thrusts up hard. You would pull away if you didn’t know Jungkook is going to force you back down. Right now, you want him to pleasure you, and you move back a little, seeking for friction on his hand.

He pulls the hand away, before slapping your pussy hard. You whine around Yoongi’s cock, and your boyfriend grabs a handful of your hair. You can imagine him, with his head thrown back on the couch. Not knowing where to look between you and Jungkook. And apart from the light touch of his fingers on your clit, you don’t know what Jungkook is doing. Is he touching himself, or is he watching Yoongi? Is he discovering he might like this more than he expected, or is he searching for a way out?

“Should I get her ready for us, hyung?”

The little brat. You know your boyfriend will feel intimidated by having to dominate you with someone else. But still, Yoongi says, “You sucked my dick, it’s only fair I let you fuck my girl”.

You’re not sure if it’s fair. But thinking about Jungkook fucking you with Yoongi… it makes you go haywire. You dig your nails in Yoongi’s thigh, where you’ve been holding yourself up for a moment after you stopped playing with his balls. He hisses in pain, but you’re swirling your tongue around his tip, playing with his frenulum just the way he likes.

Jungkook is silent for a time. He moves his fingers from your clit to your entrance, circling it once to collect more juice. But then instead of moving back down to your clit, he moves up, and your pussy clenches as his fingers play with the circle of muscle of your asshole.

“Have you ever been fucked by two guys at the same time?” he asks. You don’t know if he wants an answer, so you keep sucking your boyfriend. Jungkook slaps your ass again, and his fingers go back to your clit.

You understand his question was rhetorical when something very wet replaces his fingers on your ass. His tongue. He uses it to play with the ring of muscle, even going all the way as to dip his tongue inside. You want to reach back and touch him, but you can’t let go of your boyfriend.

Not when Yoongi is using your mouth like this.

The fingers Jungkook has been using on your clit move back to your entrance once again. This time, he dips them in, deep, without a moment of hesitation. You clench around him and he spreads the fingers, fighting against your walls. This time, you pull away to moan, face falling on your boyfriend’s stomach as you jerk him off quickly, holding his dick tight in your grip.

Yoongi’s shirt is clinging to him, sweaty from the action. Though he’s mostly just been benefiting from what you and Jungkook do, you know his heart has been beating out of his chest. You raise your head to look at him, but he’s busy looking at Jungkook. It makes you glance back, and you think you could almost come watching Jungkook work on you like that.

Jungkook has his eyes closed, brows knit together as if he’s in deep focus. You can only see the top of his face from where he’s eating your ass, and his fingers make squelching sounds as they fuck into your pussy.

You’re so wet you’re almost convinced you could take both of the men in your pussy. The thought makes you moan, a pornographic sound that makes Jungkook’s eyes open. He pulls away, and he slaps your ass as you just stare at him.

“Why are you not sucking hyung anymore?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he observes you with that dark lustful gaze of his. “You can’t focus?”

As he says the words, he fucks his fingers harder into you, and the knuckles of his other fingers almost hurt as they hit the soft flesh on both sides of your pussy. You can tell you’ll be sore once Jungkook is done with you. Once Yoongi is done with you too.

Your nails once again dig in Yoongi’s thigh, and he quickly grabs your hand to move it away. He puts it back on his balls, and you massage gently, not wanting to hurt him. You try to straighten, but Jungkook puts a hand on the top of your back, shoving you down towards your boyfriend’s dick.

“Be a good girl and suck him, baby, he’s been so good to us both.”

You obey, and your tongue is back on Yoongi in no time, tasting the salty precum that keeps leaking from his cock. Jungkook laps at your hole once again, and it’s a new feeling. You’ve never done that before, but he knows what he’s doing. So much so that you’re barely surprised when he dips his thumb in your ass, pushing hard against the tight ring of muscle until your hole has swallowed all of his digit.

You could come soon. You’re pretty sure if you focus just for a few seconds, you’ll be coming all around Jungkook’s fingers. But you don’t want to come just yet, you want to enjoy every little jolt of electricity Jungkook pulls from you.

Maybe your lack of attention on Yoongi has given him back his thoughts, because your boyfriend grabs one of your breasts in his large hand, his grip tight. You reward him by swallowing his dick whole, letting your throat work around his head.

You’re becoming more wet with every movement of Jungkook’s fingers inside of you. So much so that he adds a third one with ease, stretching you wide open. You don’t even know who he’s trying to get you ready for: Yoongi, or himself?

You don’t care. You want both of them to fuck you.

But you want a little control too, you want to know what’s happening. As Jungkook fucks his digits inside of you, you pull away from Yoongi’s cock.

“Jungkook, why don’t you finish undressing?”

He stops moving, probably not expecting you to still be vocal. But he obeys you, mostly because his dick has been straining against his pants for a while. You can’t imagine it being comfortable.

While he undresses, you climb on Yoongi’s lap, your back facing him. You grab his dick, holding it up long enough so you can sink onto it, and you moan breathlessly as you go as far deep as you can, until all of him is gripped in all of you. You clench around him, and his large hands find your waist as he grunts.

And while you’re fucking yourself on Yoongi, you turn to look at Jungkook. He’s even more beautiful than you imagined he’d be: his cock is huge, definitely larger than your boyfriend. You almost think you won’t be able to take him in, but something about the way he smiles devilishly tells you he knows how to get you all ready for him. His dick has a large vein that goes from the base all the way to the tip. You want to run your tongue on it, but he’s sitting a little too far again, muscular thighs spread wide as he strokes his cock lazily.

His eyes follow you as you move up and down on Yoongi, and your boyfriend’s fingers dig in the supple flesh on your hips as he guides you on himself. But when Yoongi moans again, you don’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes dart to him, his grip around his dick tightening as he starts going faster.

“You like it, mmh?” you tease him, regaining his attention.

Jungkook plays with his piercing, his head resting against the couch as he watches you.

“You could suck my clit while I fuck myself on Yoongi.”

Your suggestion is barely out of your mouth before Jungkook gets up. His dick stands proud and tall, and you look back at Yoongi to see him already drinking in the sight. He fucks into you then, and you slow down so he can use you however he wants.

Jungkook jerks himself off, gently, making his way towards you. He stands in front of you, and you can’t help but look down at his dick. At the large head, that shines red as precum appears on his slit. Your eyes trail up to his face, and the smirk on his lips tell you enough of what he wants.

He wants you to choke on his dick. But he understood something too, earlier when you asked Yoongi for permission.

“Hyung, can I fuck her mouth?”

Yoongi moans loudly as your mouth falls open.

“Say it with your words.” Jungkook is indecent. You’re pretty sure he’d tie the both of you up and use you both however he wanted if you let him.

“As long as she likes it”, Yoongi replies breathlessly. He slows down his movements into you, but he pulls you lower, until all of his dick is sheathed inside of you. He then circles his hips, and it makes him reach places unknown to you before. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you moan loudly.

The moan is interrupted by two digits sitting on your tongue. Your eyes shoot open, and you instinctively close your mouth around the fingers, sucking once. Jungkook cocks his head to the side as you start playing with the pad of his digits, hollowing your cheeks as you suck another time.

“You really want to suck my dick, don’t you?”

You do. You also want to see Yoongi sucking his dick, but you’re not sure the position allows it. So you nod, keeping Jungkook’s fingers in your mouth for as long as he allows before he’s grabbing the back of your head, dragging you closer to his cock.

You resist a little, just because you want to be a little brat, and Jungkook slaps your cheek with his cock once.

“Open up your throat.”

His words convey a command you’re wired to give in too. No matter how much you like to dominate, you’re not sure you have it in you to disobey him when he speaks the words with such a husky voice.

So you open your mouth, and you let him move your head until he can thrust into your mouth. He’s big. Large. It hurts your jaw a little, and your eyes water as he reaches the back of your throat faster than you thought he would. It doesn’t deter him, and he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting in again.

Below you, Yoongi is still circling his hips, and he grunts as you clench your walls around him, instinctively. Your juice is dripping down his balls, tickling him, and he has the clear image of Jungkook licking him clean. He almost wants to ask, but he’s too shy. All he can do is fuck you as he listens to you choking on Jungkook’s dick.

Jungkook fucks your mouth another couple of times before he lets go of the back of your head, moving your hair to the side to reveal your neck. He caresses it with one long finger, and you take the lead, grabbing a hold of his dick as you swallow once, your throat tightening against him.

The sound he lets out makes you think you’ve reached nirvana. It also makes Yoongi fuck up into you, and though he’s already hitting your cervix, you almost think he’s gotten deeper.

You offer Jungkook’s cock the same care you offered Yoongi’s earlier. You suck him dry, licking up at his head to taste his precum. It tastes a little different than Yoongi’s. A little sweeter, and you think you could get drunk off of it. It’s addictive, and all you can do is swallow as much of him as you can, hollowing your cheeks around him.

You try to look up at him, but the position doesn’t really allow him. You’re bent and you’d have to stop sucking his dick to be able to turn your head enough to look at him. You can’t resist the impulse though, and you hold his dick with one hand as you pull away, licking down his length, with your head tilted to the side until you can look up at him.

He’s not looking at you. His head is thrown back, revealing a sharp jawline that could cut through glass. You can’t resist yourself, and you let your teeth graze the sensitive skin of his dick.

He looks down so fast you almost think he gets whiplash. Instead, he just surveys you with a dark dangerous look on his features. It makes you add your own movements to Yoongi’s action, and your boyfriend’s grip on your hips tightens even more.

“I thought you were supposed to suck my clit”, you tell Jungkook, maintaining eye contact as you tap his dick on the side of your face, tongue darting out until you’ve found the frenulum.

He seems angry, towering over you like that. You’ve seen him eating good food enough before to know that that’s because he’s enjoying himself. “When you can suck my dick like that?”

You pull away, and surprisingly enough he lets you go. You start moving up and down on Yoongi again, cocking your head to the side. “But poor Yoongi is barely getting any action.”

Jungkook looks at your boyfriend. You’re not sure he’ll understand what you want, but a few seconds later he drops to his knees.

“Maybe he just needs me to suck on his balls, don’t you think?”

You moan, almost in time as Yoongi. Jungkook is bold. Crazy, even. You lose a hand in his hair as he dives in. He stops by your clit first, sucking it hard. It makes you clench around the cock spearing you, earning you a grunt from your boyfriend. He’s rock hard inside of you, and you’re pretty sure it’s taking all of his will not to come.

He suddenly straightens and wraps an arm around your middle as Jungkook moves lower. You assume Jungkook sucked on one of his balls, and Yoongi lets out a low string of curses that makes a knot tighten in your core.

You’re far from being ready to let it uncoil. But you can tell Yoongi will come if Jungkook keeps doing whatever he’s doing.

“Yoons, you think you can hold on a little longer for us?” you purr.

His forehead is resting on the back of your shoulder, so you feel it when he nods. But he has no words for you, just a broken string of moans that form a melody in your ears as you keep moving up and down. You taunt him, clenching your walls once, and the moans turn into a hiss.

“Never thought hyung was such a good boy”, Jungkook says as he pulls away. He’s got spit on his chin and your hand moves from his hair to his chin so you can dry it.

And instead of letting it air dry, you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking it dry. Jungkook just watches you carefully, and then he’s moving back to your clit.

The next few minutes are lost to you. The orgasm that hits you takes you by surprise, almost bringing Yoongi down with you. But he’s better than you, and he just forces you to still your movements as your walls pulse against his dick.

Jungkook is too skilled with his tongue. Flicking your clit in a way that makes you see stars, until they’ve exploded and you’re just left panting for dear life.

“You ask him not to come and then you just do?” Jungkook teases. “How unfair.”

He stands, licking his lip dry. You’re spent, head thrown back and resting against your boyfriend’s shoulder. Yoongi is still holding you, one of his hands palming your breast through your lingerie set.

You’re pretty sure it’s ruined at this point. Jungkook bends down, and to your surprise he steals a kiss on your boyfriend’s lips. Yoongi moans in his mouth, and while they kiss Jungkook’s hand sneaks under you. He finds the place where the lingerie is attached, and quickly releases it.

You turn your head, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek. Jungkook must have sensed it, because a second later he’s meeting your lips. You can still taste a little bit of yourself on him, though you know Yoongi lapped most of it clean.

“Let’s get her out of this”, Jungkook says as he pulls away.

Yoongi obeys, and he pulls the lingerie set over your head, until your breasts are finally revealed. Your nipples are perked on your chest, hardened by the pleasure that just ran to you. Your boyfriend palms them as Jungkook watches, and he’s back to stroking his dick.

You reach out, and your hand finds his balls as he pleasures himself. He tilts his head to the side, but he lets you do as you want. You’re weak from the orgasm that just rocked through you, and Jungkook looks as if he’s coated in an aura.

You know it’s the ecstasy from you coming so hard, but some part of you want to believe he’s a fallen angel.

As you palm him, Jungkook’s gaze slides to Yoongi’s next to you. Yoongi wets his lips, and his eyes drop to his friend’s dick.

“You want to get a taste?”

Really, Jungkook is not familiar with sanity. He doesn’t care for it, only wants to ruin the both of you. You’re forced to let go of his balls as he moves until he’s got one knee resting on the armrest of the couch. He holds his dick up towards Yoongi, and you let out a slow whimper as Yoongi wraps his lips around Jungkook’s large head.

You realize then that Yoongi probably has had lots of experience with men before you came into his life, because he clearly knows what he’s doing. Jungkook looks almost pained, brows touching on his forehead as his mouth falls open. He’s panting after a few seconds, and his eyes fall on you.

“Fuck”, he curses. “I don’t know which of you sucks best.”

From the moans he lets out next, you’re pretty sure it’s Yoongi. But you don’t care, you’re too busy circling your hips so Yoongi’s cock reaches every little spot in you that can make you see stars.

Jungkook observes you. You think he’s been watching you more than Yoongi. And as Yoongi bobs his head up and down, taking more of Jungkook’s cock than you ever could, the younger man bends down and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is sweet and slow. With no tongue, just his lips working against yours. His are infinitely soft, and you moan in his mouth. He keeps on kissing you, to a slow and steady rhythm that almost aches.

You miss him as soon as he straightens. But you don’t miss the way his gaze hardens as he holds yours. He looks sad, for just a fleeting moment. The next moment the look is gone, replaced by a lustful expression.

“Fuck”, Jungkook says, and he looks away from you to meet Yoongi’s gaze as your boyfriend keeps sucking him. “I want to get the chance to fuck her before I come.”

Yoongi whines, and he reluctantly pulls away from Jungkook’s cock. The latter refuses to meet your gaze anymore, and he motions to the couch.

“Hyung, why don’t you lie down?” he says.

You clench your jaw, before getting up from Yoongi’s lap. Your pussy clenches around nothing for the first time in a while, and you stand next to Jungkook as Yoongi moves. You startle as Jungkook slaps your ass, hard.

“Do you think your asshole is ready to take him?”

He meets your gaze now. He’s about to drag you to hell with him, and you admit you should be scared. Somehow, you aren’t, and you just want him to use you the way that he wants.

“I don’t know”, you whisper.

“Bend down”, he orders.

You nod, facing the couch until your chest is pressed against the back rest. You hold yourself up with a knee propped on the side of the couch, and your eyes turn to Yoongi. He’s holding his dick, jerking off slower than his usual. Probably because he’s already too close to coming.

You jerk forward as Jungkook lands another slap to your ass. It stings, and he parts your cheeks to reveal your asshole to him again. One of his hands moves between your legs, collecting your juice as he dips two fingers inside of you again. Once he thinks his digits to be lubricated enough, Jungkook pulls out and moves them to your asshole. He seems to hesitate for a time, and you bite your lips as you hear him spit, and the blob of saliva lands on your hole a second later.

Only then does Jungkook push his fingers inside your ass. He fingers it slowly, with scissoring motions that make your legs tremble, but you hold on strong. You keep holding Yoongi’s gaze for as long as you can, but when Jungkook adds a third finger, you lose the battle against your drooping eyelids.

The feeling is foreign. It doesn’t feel as good as when he was fingering your pussy earlier. Yet it makes you clench your pussy around nothing, makes clear juice collect around the entrance again, until you’re dripping on Yoongi under you.

Jungkook starts going faster, and when he slaps your ass with his free hand you moan loudly, hiding your face in the couch cushion. You wince when Jungkook pulls you by the hair, forcing you to look at Yoongi again.

“Look at him”, he commands. “You’re going to have his cock deep inside your ass soon.”

Yoongi is jerking himself faster than before when you finally are able to open your eyes. His jaw is clenched hard, and you can see a vein popping in his neck. You reach between the two of you, and he lets you grab his dick, though you only offer him a slow job as you’re too weak from Jungkook’s ministrations.

Jungkook takes that as a cue to pull his fingers out of your ass.

“Sit on him.”

You’re slow to obey. Yoongi sits up a little to help you, and a moment later you sit on him reverse-cowgirl style. You look up at Jungkook, waiting for his next order, but surprisingly enough Yoongi acts on his own. He angles his dick with your ass, moving it between your cheeks twice before settling it against the ring of muscle.

You wait for Jungkook to give you permission, and when he nods you sink down on Yoongi.

His dick is far bigger than Jungkook’s three fingers. It hurts a little more, even though Yoongi took the time to use his spit as lube before he aligned his dick with your ass. You wince, but you refuse to close your eyes, holding Jungkook’s gaze until Yoongi is deep inside of you.

“What a fucking pretty picture”, Jungkook murmurs.

Yoongi lies back down, bringing you with him. He puts his feet up on the couch, to give himself leverage so he can slowly move in and out of your ass. Never fully leaving you empty, but always keeping a steady rhythm. The initial discomfort slowly melts into pleasure, and your hand moves between your legs, until you’re drawing circles on your clit.

Jungkook surveys you for a moment before he decides to join the fun. It’s a little awkward at first, as he positions himself, but soon enough he’s kneeling between both your legs and Yoongi’s. He spits in his hand, rubbing his palm on the head of his dick for a few seconds as his eyes fall to the spot where Yoongi is slowly fucking you. He must like what he sees, because his features turn hungry.

He’s going to wreck you.

Jungkook positions himself at your entrance. He uses his dick to rub on your clit a few times, and you bite down on your lip as he does it. It feels good, better than you thought it would, but you’re pretty sure that’s just because Yoongi is still fucking your ass, and your body is craving for more. Jungkook’s features soften as he meets your gaze, but when he starts pushing in, your eyes shut.

It hurts. A lot. Yoongi stills inside of you as you let out a pained sound. Jungkook gives you a moment to adjust, and then he’s pushing in a little more. The tip is fully in by the time he stops again, and you’re panting as Yoongi holds you tight to his chest. He runs a soothing hand on your side, and you take a deep breath to try and relax.

You startle when a hand cups your cheek, making your eyes fly open. It’s Jungkook, and he makes sure you’re looking at him, solely focused on his gaze, before he finishes thrusting in.

You weren’t wrong. He’s enormous inside of you. Way bigger than Yoongi. But you don’t know if the feeling is confused because Yoongi’s dick is still up your ass. You feel so full you think you might explode. Jungkook gently runs his thumb on your cheek, and you take a deep breath in time with him. You slowly breathe it out, and the ache between your legs slowly changes.

It still hurts, but not as much, and you nod slowly to indicate to Jungkook that you’re ready. He’s gentle as he pulls out, before thrusting all the way in once again. You moan, and everything clenches around the two dicks. Yoongi tightens his hold on your middle, fingers digging in your ribs. He’s probably going to come without even having to move, his body succumbing to all the edging you and Jungkook gave him.

It takes a moment for your pussy to adjust. But it eventually does. Jungkook sees the change in you, and he grabs your waist carefully as he gets ready to pound into you. He’s not quite ready to do it yet though.

“Hyung, why don’t you fill her ass with your come?” he says. “You like it, uh? When I fuck into her like that?”

Yoongi curses again. “Yes.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s willing for you to come now”, Jungkook continues.

You nod. “Please come for me, baby.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw at the pet name, but his eyes roll to the back of his head as Yoongi starts moving again. And then Jungkook is thrusting in you, in synch with Yoongi, and all you can focus on is the spot between your legs. The two cocks spearing you, fucking into you relentlessly until you’re on the verge of another orgasm.

You’re a moaning mess. Both men also moan their share, being vocal in their pleasure. Yoongi is the first one to reach his high between the three of you. He stills deep inside of you, releasing his hot seed in your ass as Jungkook keeps fucking into you. The latter must see you’re on the verge of coming undone too, because he reaches between your bodies, until his thumb is rubbing on your clit.

You come next, painting Yoongi’s pelvic white as his come drips from your ass. You don’t remember when he pulled out, but the feeling joined with Jungkook’s thumb brought you to your orgasm, and it hits you with a renewed intensity. It blurs your vision, turning it fully white, and there’s ringing in your ears when you finally fall from the high.

Jungkook hasn’t come yet. He waits until you’re looking at him again, and his hand wraps around your throat as he leans forward, just to hit a better angle for himself. And then he’s coming too, ropes and ropes of his seed that he plants deep inside of you, barely even slowing his rhythm. He milks his orgasm inside of you, with knitted brows and his teeth digging in his lower lip. It almost looks painful, and you reach up to pull his lip free of his teeth.

Only then does he still inside of you, though his dick twitches a few times again before it finally rests too.

There’s nothing but the sound of breathing for a time. From Yoongi beneath you and Jungkook above you. Your own breath is ragged, and you’re not sure you have blinked since Jungkook has come. Your eyes are lost in his, and you drink in the emotions that pass in his gaze.

You wonder if it’s regret that makes him pull away until all you can watch is his profile as he sits on the other side of the couch. You feel his seed roll down your pussy, sliding over your sensitive hole until it drips on Yoongi, mixing with his own come.

It’s sinful. What you did tonight is sinful, and your body is already sore from it. But as Yoongi presses a kiss on the back of your shoulder, you know you would do it all again.

It takes a moment before Yoongi lets you go. He always holds you after you’ve done the deed. It’s something that’s always been important to the two of you. But it feels a little unfair today, because Jungkook is sitting on his side of the couch and he looks infinitely lonely over there. So you sit up, moving off of Yoongi until he can sit up too.

“Do you guys want a glass of water?” you ask.

“Please”, Jungkook answers, and Yoongi nods once when you meet his gaze.

You get up from the couch with shaky legs, and you wince as you feel more come roll down your thighs. You bend down to grab Yoongi’s shirt, pulling it over your head, and then you’re off to clean yourself and grab water for the two men.

When you come back from your trip to the bathroom and the kitchen, you’re hit with the smell of sex that clings to the living room. You’d open the windows right away if you didn’t know how cold it is outside, so you instead move to the boys to offer them their glasses.

Both of them have put their pants back on, and Jungkook is holding his shirt in his lap, looking at it with a troubled expression. If they have talked while you were gone, they’re now completely silent.

“Here”, you say as you hand the glasses.

Yoongi grabs his and gulps it down in long sips, while Jungkook barely looks up at his before taking it. It takes him a few seconds before he’s drinking, and you turn your head away from his pretty features to look at your boyfriend instead.

Yoongi is already looking at you. He offers you a loving smile, the one he reserves just for you. It makes you smile too, filling your chest with warmth as you move towards him, until you’re sitting on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck. Jungkook takes that as a cue to put his shirt on, and he sighs heavily before glancing at the two of you.

“Didn’t expect this would ever happen in my life”, he admits, and a tired smile moves on his lips.

If you hadn’t seen the troubled expression on his features a moment ago, you would almost think Jungkook is happy and satisfied at the moment. The latter might be true, but there’s sadness surrounding Jungkook. Something you don’t think you’re supposed to be the one to fix.

“Thank you”, Yoongi says.

You turn your head to look at him, as Jungkook lets out a small laugh. “Anytime, hyung.”

“Both for the whiskey and the sex”, Yoongi adds as a joke, and this time Jungkook’s laugh rings truer.

You talk a little, letting the afterglow of the sex carry you through a conversation about everything and nothing. You partake in it, though you’re getting tired. The two orgasms that those men pulled out of you are taking their toll on you, and soon enough, you’re yawning with your head resting against Yoongi’s shoulder.

Jungkook chuckles. “I’ll take that as a cue that I should go.” He gets up, stretching lazily. His shirt hikes up a little to reveal a sliver of his skin, and you feel hot all over again at the thought that you had sex with him.

Jeon Jungkook just manhandled both you and Yoongi as if it’s nothing to him.

You follow him up, walking to the door with him. Yoongi walks behind you, his fingers finding your hand and holding it gently as you lean against the wall in the hall. You watch as Jungkook puts his shoes on, before grabbing his biker helmet that he left next to the door.

“So”, he breathes out, and a small chuckle follows the word. “I’ll see you two around?”

He’s looking at you as he says the words. You offer him a small smile. “I hope you didn’t think you’d get rid of us so easily.”

The unease that has seemed to be clinging to Jungkook slides away, replaced by relief. Did he think you were going to drop your friendship with him?

“Of course not”, he denies. “Even if tonight was unexpected…” he trails off.

“It was fun?” Yoongi provides.

Jungkook nods his head, and his eyes flit to Yoongi besides you. “We should do it again.”

Yoongi’s fingers tighten around yours, the only indication that he would want it too. But he’s letting you choose what to reply.

A smirk casts a mischievous look on your features, and you barely hesitate before saying, “Let’s meet up again sometime next week”.

Teaser | Next

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Ooooooooof yeah. That was... yeah. I’m sorry for sinning so hard haha but thank you for coming down to hell with me :’) I’m wondering, will you guys like seeing more of this couple/throuple?? If so, please let me know by following this link! Also, don’t be afraid to leave feedback, it’s always appreciated!!

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@chimchimmarie | @pamzn | @the-boy-meets-evil | @sugarwithtea

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