#the tiny dimple forming on his left cheek. the smiling lines appearing. the soft and satisfied look on his face cuz he thinks shoto's--
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The Way To Hell - Final Chapter
Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man on earth. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped while a trained assassin is sent to bring him down.
Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤
Word count: 5k (including epilogue)
Warnings: 18+, smut, boomer Walker, some fluff, sexual intercourse, cock-warming, mentions of torture, implied insanity, slight mentions of gore, violence, murder, mass-shooting and death. Please proceed with caution
A/N: The ending is here and I hope I did it justice, I hope I did right by you. I will reblog my kudos, but first I must thank @agniavateira for being my beta and a source of inspiration and @raspberrydreamclouds for the cover art.
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*
Now allow me to die out of stress and anxiety.
Title: See You in Hell
Down by the valley, there is a serenity that exists only in fairy tales. Damp grass caresses her naked back, the pointy little tips ticking the base of her spine, leaving a fresh trail of dew. Pure mountain mist breathes life through blue hills caked with ice; white fog vales over the forest’s lush greenery and looms above the lake’s water like a lost-love phantom.
Lying with her eyes shut, she listens to the harmony of life surrounding her: the little fish bouncing in the river, the butterflies procreating mid-air and the hummingbird chirping with bliss. Yet the most beautiful sound is the low, melodic baritone humming and reverberating against her inner thighs.
”Angel,
With those angel eyes
Come and take this earth boy
Up to paradise.”
”Boomer Walker…” she teases, “Is that a song from your time?”
Ascending a trail of kisses up her pelvis, he scoffs and shakes his head. “I’m starting to suspect that you have a kink for older men,” he answers with a throaty growl, shifting his weight further over her abdomen. The soft fur of his torso grazes between her thighs, and she sighs with pleasure.
”Do you want daddy to fuck you?”
”That’s gross!” she curls her nose and tries to hit his head playfully, but August snaps at her wrists with perfect instinct, pinning her hands against the wet meadow. His tongue flicks over the slant of her neck while he aligns his cock at the little piece of heaven between her legs.
Sensual yet rough, his massive girth splits her walls while his lips shower her with honeyed kisses. Ingvild throws her head back, lacing her fingers with his and coils herself beneath his large body.
“August...” she pants, feeling the air gradually diminishing from her lungs with every thrust, “I think I’m dying...”
Never halting or slowing his rhythm, August lowers his head to peer into her eyes. Fingers drenched with blood snap at her jaw.
“Stay with me, Ingvild.” He demands, letting out a husky groan, though his voice is but an echo.
A grey, thick mist wafts around the darkening forest, covering her with a bone-chilling breeze; his calling carries on the distance.
“Stay, princess...”
“Don’t leave...”
“Stay. We’ve only just begun.”
Ice bites its sharp fangs into the little creases between her cracked bones as another bucket filled with frosty water showers her trembling body. The stabbing pain lasts for a lingering moment, reminding her that she’s still very much alive.
It must be the 10th bucket, or maybe 12th? She lost count at some point. Day and night melt into one another in this place, and the hours don’t make much sense.
Muffled complaints vibrate in her ears. Vaguely her sight picks on two silhouettes arguing when the world abruptly flashes white, and her jaw soaks a terrible blow. Fully crashing onto the hard marble, she tries to recover, but a sudden kick rips through her abdomen.
“Your methods are too slow, Issac!” A grey-haired agent chides, standing over the girl with his foot still drawn, “Walker could be setting his bomb somewhere across the globe any minute now, and you’re taking your sweet time with her as if she’s an art project.”
The scrawny torturer frowns and turns his back at him. Walking toward the metal desk, he browses through different equipment. “My methods always work, the pretty little girl was taught to endure pain,” he grunts in exasperation and gestures at the bloodstained bandage around her hand, “she did this to herself.”
Sighing with a mixture of frustration and disgust, the CIA agent takes another swing at Ingvild’s torso, the pointy edge of his shoe colliding with the scar at her gut.
Bloodshot eyes rise with wrath, violent tides of aftershock course at her viscera. She peers at the men through the haze of pain when a third figure appears in the room, standing calmly whilst Issac and the agent argue among them.
Tall, broad, and charismatic, the handsome man strides toward her. His tailored steel-coloured suit envelops his statuesque body as if he is made of iron.
“You’re taking it so well, princess,” he praises in his deep, melodic baritone while crouching down to take a closer look. Ingvild lifts her head, slowly breaking into a weak grin. Onyx orbs replace the storm-touched eyes, but that chiselled face still belongs to her beautiful monster.
“Did you tell them anything about where I am headed?” he asks and gives her a pout, reaching his index finger and thumb to squeeze her bruised cheek affectionately.
Swallowing the aching dryness in her throat, she manages to shake her head meekly. “No… I said nothing,” her voice cracking as she whispers. Her chapped lips stretch into a pale, awkward grin.
Tiny lines form at the corner of his void-like eyes as he smiles back, radiating with dangerous delight.
“That’s my good girl.”
The grey-haired agent throws a glance over his shoulder, scrutinising Ingvild while he stands next to Issac, who is twirling a scalpel back and forth between his boney fingers.
“Who is she talking to?”
“Not very sane this one,” Issac explains as he examines the silver blade against the light, “multiple mental disorders, dissociative personality, psychotic.”
Pushing the agent aside with his free hand, Issac steps forward. He leers at Ingvild, who stares at nothing for a long second before averting her eyes back at them.
“We just need to dig a little deeper and the little bird will sing,” he exclaims and moves closer before dropping to his knees. One of his icy hands lands on her shoulder, forcing her flat on her back. Shuddering at his frozen touch, she closes her eyes; in the bleak nothingness, she recalls the night in the lake where August let her die.
“Pretty little Ingvild, have you heard of vivisection?” Her torturer asks as he lines his twig-like finger over the spine of the scalpel. Sensing his digits sneaking beneath the hem of her shirt, she shoots her eyes open yet remains still and intrepid.
The tiny black marbles beneath Issac’s brows glint with twisted joy, appeased at the sight of the scar as he exposes her torso. Ingvild expects the pain of the blade when something tepid and unpleasantly wet slithers across her gut like a little pink slug.
“Umm… Issac…?” The agent interrupts, furrowing his brow with confusion and disgust as he stares at his colleague licking the girl’s torso.
“What?!” Issac snaps at him, his eyes narrowing with spite, “you wanted me to go harder on her!”
“Yes, but…”
“But shut up and let me do my job!” He yells and returns his glare to Ingvild who blinks at the ceiling silently. Disrupted by his touch, she bites her tongue, fighting to hold back the acrid substance that threatens to emerge from her gut.
“You fight very hard to protect a man who doesn’t give a fuck about you, little bird,” his snake-like voice hisses as he leans down to half-whisper in her ear, “just tell me where he is and I won’t cut you open.”
Ingvild sucks the air in through gritted teeth and turns her head to look away from the obnoxious little man. She seeks for her beautiful monster, finding him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. August’s empty glance wears a calm grin.
“He is in this room,” Ingvild jests faintly, her sardonic laughter stretching thin, her chest heaving, exhausting whatever strength is left in her muscles. August’s smirk widens with hers, large dimples are slicing into his cheeks.
Ticking his tongue, Issac allows the sharp edge of the scalpel cut a skin-deep line into her flesh. Ingvild stares at him stoically, not moving a muscle as shy drops of blood begin trickling down her navel.
“Are you sure about your response?” he asks, ghosting the scalpel over her abdomen while crooking an eyebrow.
Ingvild bites her lip, pretending to think about her answer for a few seconds. Lifting her head up, she inches her lips toward Issac’s ear. The scrawny man listens intently.
“August Walker is the devil, and the devil is everywhere.”
A peal of sinister chuckles spills from her lips as she throws her head back onto the ground, staring at Issac’s disapproving glare.
But her laughter soon dies.
Taut pressure pierces into her flesh, the blade penetrating deep, cutting through tissue and muscle as if it was soft cheese. Ingvild clenches her jaw, her mind flooded by charring white light that dismantles every thought while the blade continues to swerve.
For a brief moment, she finds herself in Bergen, hands covered with thick blood, holding the gushing wound in her stomach with shock. August stands above her, toying with his favourite knife and staring at the red taint.
“Time to fall, angel.”
Scattered musings run behind her eyes: Liam, the nuns at the orphanage, August, and even Erica. She’s reminded of every hit she was forced to take, every country she visited, all blending into a bizarre parade of death.
“C’mon girl, just tell us where he is!” She hears the other man shout as he steps closer with an urgent expression. “Just give us something, a country, a region, anything to make this stop, you can still do the right thing.”
The heavy stench of iron fills her nose; the warm, thick liquid trickles down her bare skin, spilling in a cross on the map of her torso. The pain now is undeniable, making her lips heavier as she makes an attempt to answer.
“I don’t…. know… any August.”
The CIA agent scoffs violently and balls his fists. “Deeper!” He orders Issac, who like a composer, trails the blade further through her gut, cutting into sinew and brittle tendons. Ingvild trembles, feeling her body grow weaker.
In her mind, she can hear caged screams.
“You will die for a man who doesn’t even care if you bleed!” The agent rasps, spit coming out of his mouth as he rages above her.
‘Stop!’
“He won’t even remember you once you die!”
‘Resist, don’t show pain. You’ve been through this before, you already died.’
“No one will.”
Swallowing every ounce of pain, she fights to remember her training, her past. Her mind scrambles for Fjellstrekninger forest, for the green pines and their stringy needles, for the scent of beech and the damp ground. She tries to imagine the silver-blue mountains of Bergen, that last time she hiked there before going to meet Liam at the gas station.
How strange that at the very same day she encountered the most wanted man on earth, not knowing she was destined to be his.
But none of these images appear before her.
‘You can’t escape this.’
Her screams shudder through the entire floor.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
August flicks his tongue over his bottom lip, glowering at the driver who gawks at him with disbelief and shakes his head. Pushing the phone against his chin, he stares forward at the rainy road, reciting in his mind the words of the MI6 and CIA apostles.
‘Erica captured a woman in her late 20s, having her tortured for information for a couple of days now. Can’t promise you she’s alive. No one goes in there.’
“I wasn’t asking,” August answers, throwing him an icy glare, “we’re taking the chopper to the Mi6 fortress in London. I don’t need to tell you what happens if you question my decisions.”
The driver tenses his fingers around the steering wheel and shakes his head once again. He means to say something, but the scowl on August’s face shuts him up right away.
“Who is she? What is she to you?”
August huffs and lowers his gaze, eyes dropping to the plutonium case and then forward through the windshield, watching the heavy rain clouds that stretch before the sky. As he blinks his eyes shut, his mind plays a vision of an inferno; cracked ground and scorched skies. He sits on a throne made of bones and drinks wine from a chalice made of human skull.
His angel sits on his knee, naked and pure, her iridescent wings tucked against her back. She stares at him with a smile full of admiration, her fingers brushing over his moustache.
‘Your angel of destruction.’
“She’s just an asset.”
‘Hell lives inside you August, it always has. Rotting you from the inside as it begs to be let out. And you will unleash it, won’t you? Your suffering must be shared.’
Vast shadows gather outside the double-pane windows of the main hall. The thick storm clouds paint the sky pitch black, swallowing the stars alive one by one. Light wanes just in time for the harbinger of chaos to march into the well-secured lobby of the sizable Mi6 fortress.
If fairytales were to be true, the devil would arrive riding a monstrous mare with hooves made of flames. But if anything, he is but a man in a tailored suit and a long trench-coat. The leather soles of his midnight-black shoes squeak as he marches on, leaving a trail of mud on the cream-coloured marble.
“Evening sir,” the security guard greets and gestures August to pass through the large weapon detector with nothing but a quick exchange of knowing looks.
The corners of August’s lips curl into a small smile beneath his moustache while he scrutinises the surroundings. Gold and pearly pillars spread across the vast hall, a false facade hiding a decaying world and the self-indulgent ghosts that harbour it. So lost in their own little lie, it takes them more than a few minutes to notice the hellhound who stepped into their haven.
It begins as a small rumble, like a seismic wave. The first tremor vibrates through the ground and the walls follow with a convulsing shudder. Gasps, chatter, and widened eyes stab at him with shock, yet they all seem to suffer from the same affliction.
Standing paralysed, they ogle at the most wanted man on earth as he combs his fingers through his hair and walks toward the elevators located at the end of a narrow, red corridor. Unapologetically confident and ever so relaxed and condescending, he ignores them.
A true king among peasants.
“Is that?...”
“What the fuck?!”
“How the fuck did he pass security???”
His confidence is nothing but theatrics, as his blue eyes carry toward the large elevators with a glossy sparkle breaking on his corneas. He tries so hard to envision her beautiful face yet all he sees is a pile of dry bones.
“Stop! Hands in the fucking air, Walker!”
‘Ah, took them long enough.’
Standing between the carpeted walls of the narrow corridor, only mere inches from the silver doors, August slowly spreads his long fingers and lifts his hands in the air. His keen ear catches at least three firearms as the guards cock their guns at his direction, panting with fright.
“Turn around so we can see you, piece of shit!!!” A presumingly young hero barks behind him.
“Someone call Director Sloane down here right now, she’s not going to believe it!!!”
The soft rumbling in the lobby grows into impending thunder. A flash of pale purple lightning floods the lit vicinity for a split second, echoing the small grin that spreads across August’s beaming face.
“Oh, I don’t think so, son,” he speaks serenely, almost like a tender fatherly coo. Not bothering to turn, he tilts his head up and inhales sharply.
“Go.”
Sharp gasps of shock and terror reverberate between the walls of the fortress as sudden darkness veils the main hall. The smell of their fear is almost as delightful as the strong smoky scent of gunpowder. Like shooting stars, the rapid gunfire pierces through the night. Cries, incoherent screams, and panicked gasps make for a beautiful concert, so much that he wishes he could stay, but he has a girl to rescue.
‘If she’s still alive…’
Swallowing the bitter bile, he enters an elevator and presses the button for the basement level. He watches the flickering beams of light as his men continue to execute the remaining agents before the doors shut in.
Drawing out his handgun and relieving the safety, he leans against the shuddering metal and stares at the neon red number while reminiscing on the day he met a pretty girl with an unpleasant smile.
“Too bad, I would have loved to see you again.”
“Well then, if our destinies were meant to be entwined, you will.”
The basement level seems completely abandoned and eerily silent. No wails nor cries carry on the chilly air.
His Ingvild is forbearing, she would never show her suffering. Would she?
Inching toward the interrogation cell, his hand runs across the naked concrete walls, sensing the coarse texture against the pads of his fingers. Opaline droplets of sweat bead his forehead and his lungs sink with the effort.
Muffled voices perk his ears the closer he gets: two men, no woman. No sounds of violence, no signs of her in there whatsoever.
‘Angel, are you being brave for me?’
Arriving at the door, he takes a deep breath and gingerly pushes the handle. The pungent scent of salt and iron pervades his nostrils as he steps a foot into the shower of blinding white light. The brightness hurts and for a moment it feels as everything before him fades.
Until his sight sharpens and he notices the two shadowy figures standing with their backs facing him. They look like vultures preying upon a corpse.
Her corpse.
‘No! Change this! Make this right!’
Wings of cherry-dark blood spread from her snow-pale body. Motionless, his girl lies with her top huddled around her chest to expose her bleeding gut.
‘You are too late…’
Pure, undistilled rage burns within August’s throat, so ferocious it stings in his eyes, making his entire body tremble. He lifts his hand and fires the gun hastily, shooting both men in the back of their heads before they even get the chance to turn and look at the man who executed them.
“Ingvild!” August pants, rushing and falling to his knees before her.
“Angel?” He presses one hand to her gut, trying to pressure her gushing wounds while his fingers etch around her nape to pull her closer to his face. Blood, still sticky and warm, tarnishes his clean outfit while he cradles her in his arms.
“Please don’t do this to me…” He whispers, shifting his hand to caress her bruised face, recalling the last time she was dead in his arms.
The world kept spinning on its axis when she died back at the lake. So why does it feel like right now it stopped in its place?
Pressing her to his chest, August shuts his eyes and shudders with fury. All emotions come to life, and every one of them hurt.
“You are not here…”
A deep quivering sigh of relief soars from his throat, mouth cracking into a smile at the sounds of her hoarse whisper and delicate moans. Blinking faintly, Ingvild half-opens her eyes and stares at him through heavy lids.
“I am here,” he whispers, brushing away the sticky strands of hair from her face and squeezes her cheek beneath his thumb, “I came to take you, we have to go.”
Shifting his arms, he tries to lift her up, but his petite woman is suddenly made of the heaviest rocks; her stiff muscles protest in his grip, making it impossible for him to manoeuvre her out of fear she will bleed to death.
“We were both at the garden,” she mumbles drowsily, licking her bloodied teeth before breaking into a maddened smile that quickly dies as she depletes her remaining strength. “I’m tired, I want to stay here and dream.”
“Ingvild, we don’t have time for this,” August warns with concern, noticing how her eyes roll back and her lashes flutter shut, “there’s a helicopter waiting for us on the roof. You have to get up, you have to survive this, you have to come with me! Please!”
Fat, oily tears roll down her temples, mingling with the blood and tangy sweat on her face. Opening her eyes again, she peers at her beautiful monster, recognising the familiar ocean and its eternal unrest.
Did he come here for her, or is it just a dream?
“Why?”
‘Tell her.’
Brow lifting and face softening, his hands clutch her tightly. He rocks her from side to side, holding her protectively. Ingvild senses the wrath that pours from his heart, the thundering beat throwing its fists against his ribcage as their bodies collide.
“You know why,” August suggests huskily, nearly begging, bargaining not to admit, not to say the words he was always so afraid of. But naively, her gaze pleas in return, the child-like innocence piercing a hole through his chest.
“Tell me,” she begs him.
‘She needs you to say it.’
“Because I need you.”
The words nearly crack on his tongue, his throat suddenly so dry it sears. He glances down at the fallen angel, sensing the most excruciating thirst, where the only way to stop it is by stealing several deep kisses from her lips.
“I need you by my side,” he murmurs above her lips between desperate, helpless kisses, hoping to breathe life into his weakened valkyrie, “stay with me, angel.”
An awkward stretch tugs at her cheeks, hurting as if someone slices them with a blade from side to side. For the first time in her life, true laughter crisps her face, followed by crystal-like tears that run down her sullen eyes.
“I love you, August.”
Every nerve in his body tingles with tendrils of light, reaching out deep within his gut and spreading throughout his tendons. For a moment, he feels divine, sanctified by the words of his angel, his woman, his by free will.
Offering her a brief smile, he captured her lips for one last stolen kiss. His thick moustache scratches at her tender flesh while a little hum plays on his tongue.
She tastes like blood and honey - the tarty flavour of victory.
“We have to go now, princess, I have to finish this.”
Gingerly rising to his feet, he hooks a hand below her knees and places the other against her bruised spine. Bloody footprints trail behind him as he carries her outside the white room, trying to make for their freedom.
Locked down in her office, Director Erica Sloane inhales and exhales by practice, brushing a hand through her sweat-slick hair while trying to call every backup unit. Bullets still rip through the air in every story; the sirens howl while red lights flicker from outside. She puts her hands around her ears, trying to shut the noises out, uncertain if the screams she is hearing are her people still being slaughtered, or her mind playing tricks.
Walker is many things: an idealist, a manipulative snake, a monster. But this is a side of him she never anticipated. There is no need to question his motives this time. She is smart enough to figure it out.
To risk so much, a man must feel deeply for a woman.
Her anxiety spikes as guilt seeps in when her phone suddenly rings.
“Director Sloane,” she pants against the receiver. Somehow, as she hears the deep, measured breath, she knows.
‘Walker.’
“Hello, Erica, did you miss me?”
Erica clenches her jaw and stares spitefully into nothing, “Hardly.”
She hears him scoff from the other line, her mind piecing together that horrible, pretentious grin of his. The bile climbs up her throat just from the vision.
“We don’t have much time, but I just wanted to thank you.” August pauses, sighing with the bliss of a madman at her ear, “You see, if not for Lacey, if not for you kicking me to the curb the way you did - I would have never become what I was meant to be. And you sent me an angel to light my way…”
“You’ve manipulated her.”
“No, you did,” August interrupts calmly, “I set her free. I will set them all free and unite them.”
The anger simmers in her gut to the point of nausea. She holds her breath, counts to ten and tries to gather her thoughts. ‘August wants a bargain,’ she thinks, but for a reason, it feels like he already won.
“Can you come and look out of the window for me, please?” He asks politely.
Turning her head at the window, she narrows her eyes and bites her plump lips with hesitation.
“If I had a sniper on you, you’d be dead 5 minutes ago,” he assures her.
She gets up from her office chair slowly, her fingers reaching to uncover the blinds. The storm weakened, yet heavy clouds still loom from above like a noxious mist. She seeks for August on the horizon, listening carefully to the sounds on the line. She realises they are coming from above. Her sharp eyes detect the helicopter: far, yet close enough to see his shit-eating grin and that hand that waves at her.
He has the girl with him. Who knew a monster could care.
“You know, you are the only woman in the CIA I haven’t fucked.” He provokes and then hangs up suddenly.
Erica watches as the helicopter takes off, her eyes widening with fear as the notion of her own demise resonates like a stinging slap.
The blast takes her along with the entire building within a split second.
Standing on the cliff by the edge of the valley, August stares down at the tranquil scar that swerves amidst lush, fertile mountains. The crystalline Indus river lies before his eyes, its sweet water so clear that the sky mirrors upon the brim.
It’s not every day when a simple man becomes a god.
The melancholic beauty of nature makes his fingers tighten around the detonator, thumb ghosting over the button as he allows himself a couple of last seconds to inhale the air of the old world.
Oh, how many will die for this god to receive his halo.
‘I wish you were here, my Ingvild…’ August muses with anguish, feeling an awkward jab at the spot where his heart should have been.
A sudden rumbling noise of a helicopter makes his gut weave.
‘That better not be Ethan fucking Hunt! I should have thrown him off the cliff in Norway!’
Alarmed yet stoic as ever, he draws his gun, aiming it at the aircraft inching its way to land on the other side of the flat terrain. The last thing he needs right now is someone meddling with his affairs, but it quickly becomes clear to him that if someone wanted a monster like him dead, they would have sniped him from the air before he could even see them coming.
‘Did you forget the woman is nothing but a valkyrie?’
“What are you doing here?” He calls out at Ingvild and frowns at the pilot, abruptly struck with anger. “I specifically asked to make sure she stays rested!”
The pilot shrugs while Ingvild makes her way toward August with mild effort. Dark circles rest beneath her eyes, yet she is still so very beautiful to him, especially when she frowns.
“She was very persuasive and horrendously stubborn,” the pilot retorts.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” August mutters to himself and watches the little battered woman making every attempt to remain stoic as she steps closer. A shadow of a malicious grin creeps on her frosty eyes.
Once upon a time, she promised him she will always find him. She has no intention of breaking that promise.
“Did you think I’ll let you do this without me, August Walker?” She sulks at him as she finally moves to stand in front of him. Every nerve in her body is inflamed with pain, yet the thought of not being here at the birth of the new world brings greater agony than imagined.
Something she compares to missing out on the birth of a child.
“We are in this together now, this is our cause, our better world. You don’t get to leave me behind.”
Her hand reaches for his wrist, thumb pressing to feel his quickening pulse. Wonder paints his eyes and his lips gape softly. He promised himself Lacey will never cross his thoughts again; yet he can’t help but think about that night in his study and the pain of betrayal.
‘How is she even real?’
Gently peeling her fingers off his wrist, he looks at the detonator. He then takes her hand in his, placing the device in her slender grasp.
“Forgive me, my darling. You’re right,” he apologises and turns her over to view the horizon. A shiver surges through her as she senses the weight in her palm when August moves to stand behind her, resting his chin on the top of her head.
“We do this together.”
Pesky little honeysuckles flutter within her chest as his arms wrap around her carefully. One of his hands holds hers, raising it up slightly to position the device in front of her chest.
“Do it angel, set them free.”
Taking a deep breath, Ingvild slides her fingertip over the red button. Scattered images of her life briefly flash through her mind, ending with the single moment where their gazes first met that day in Bergen.
Bright heavenly light cleanses the sky and loud thunder rips through the earth. Standing on the trembling ground, August and Ingvild stare into the distance while slowly turning to face each other. They hold their hands together, both gaping with awe as rich golden hues pour into the sky.
Enamoured, and lost within one another’s beauty, they share a long, lingering kiss.
Epilogue.
Sharp and heavy, the blade split the wood in half as if it was made out of soft butter. Resting the blunt side of the leaden axe over his shoulder, he pauses and observes the pile of firewood on the ground. His lips move in silence as he counts before crouching down to pick up another log and place it on the stump.
Strong shades of pink and orange spread between the clouds, kissed by the drowsy sun as it makes its way to slumber beneath the earth. It’s been 8 months since the coming of their new world. Even though there is still work to be done, August decided a hideout was necessary to let her mend her wings.
“Loki!”
Ingvild rushes into the green field with a wide, toothy smile. Feral rivers of chestnut-brown reach the small of her back, floating behind her as she runs around giggling.
‘That smile, like honey. So pure, so real.’
Playful barks answer her call, and a German Shepherd puppy appears from across the green hill, jumping over one of the logs ecstatically and wags its tail.
“Careful or I’ll cook him for dinner,” August mutters and points the axe at Loki’s direction. The pup tilts its head at him and barks with playful rage, growling and baring its needle-like teeth.
Ingvild pauses and gives August an icy stare before grabbing the large puppy and holding him to her chest, “You’re a shitty liar August Walker, you love him. Always sneaking him bacon when you think I'm not looking and snuggling him in your sleep.”
August shrugs, brushing away her comment before sticking the axe into the tree stump. “Get inside, time for dinner.” A small grin stretches on his lips as he sees her walking away, kissing the puppy on his wet little nose.
The scent of cedarwood burning at the mantle and brewed coffee welcomes her home as she enters the cabin, immediately filling her chest with mellowness. She allows Loki down on the ground before walking into their cosy bedroom where she removes her trousers and remains in an oversized sweater and black thigh-high stockings that August gifted her after they left Kashmir.
When she returns to the living room, August is sitting at the study with his laptop open. A small wrinkle lines his forehead while he runs two fingers over his moustache. A map and coordinates are visible on the screen, along with a messaging platform which she only assumes is a conversation with one of the apostles.
Loki lies guarding at his feet.
“Come here, princess,” August calls, reaching out his arm toward her. “I have something to show you.”
Sneaking toward him like a large feline, Ingvild takes his hand and lets him guide her to his lap. Her legs fall to each side of his thighs, and August rests his chin at the small crook of her neck where it always belonged.
“What are you looking for?” She asks, casually pulling the sleeve over her wrist to scratch at a peeling hammer tattoo gracing her skin.
“Don’t touch it, let it heal.” August answers and takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers together tightly. An illustration of an angel wing decorates the same spot on his arm. As she glances at the way the black ink is embedded into his flesh, she can’t help but smile and ever so slightly grind herself on the semi-rigid bulge beneath her ass.
August growls against her neck, grazing his stubbles over her supple skin before reaching a hand to unzip his tracking trousers and pull out his swelling manhood. After a soft scuffle of her panties, he lifts her hips and slides himself fully within her wet, angelic cove.
“August…” She sighs, fluttering her eyes shut for a split second, embracing both pain and pleasure. When August fills her, she is ethereal, as if a piece that was missing all her life has finally made it back home.
“You always look so beautiful with me inside you,” he murmurs against her neck, planting bristly kisses down her jawline before returning his glare forward. Ingvild only moves slightly above him, swaying slow and smooth on his thick, throbbing girth and squeezing him tight between her walls to relish in their bond.
“I have a present for you.” He opens a tab on his browser while his fingers toy with her clit with surprising tenderness.
“What is it?” She moans as he presses down on her sensitive pearl.
“I found Liam,” he explains, a twinge of pride and a spit of revenge hanging on his baritone. He growls slightly as her cunt clenches around him by his words. “He’s hiding out in Sao Paulo. I plan to bring you his head.”
Sucking on her bottom lip, she grinds a little harder, feeling August deep in her gut. The temptation to ride him hard and rough is too great, but this sweet slow torture always brings her to a higher ground of ecstasy when they finally fuck.
“Can it wait, my beautiful monster?” She asks sweetly, reaching her talons to clutch his thigh as he pushes further in and bottoms out inside her with a grunt. “I’d like to stay here for a while and be your angel for a little bit longer.”
August lifts his cerulean gaze back to Ingvild, the clear sky in his deep irises slightly darken as he observes the serene look on her face. His hand rises to cup her chin and turn her head to the side to meet his possessive lips. He cages her mouth with his, devouring her with the lust of a hungry man.
“You will always be mine and mine alone Ingvild,” he promises as he ends the kiss with a nibble on her chin. Ingvild licks his saliva off her mouth and stares back at him with the oxymoronic union of innocence and sinister urge before she leans back and continues to look at his plans.
‘Who is she to you?’
‘She is my queen, and I am the king of hell.’
_______________________________
Additional Notes: Song lyrics by Elvis Presely - Angel. Additional Inspiration by Nine Inchs Nails - We’re in this together.
Disclaimer: I own no rights to Mission Impossible’s franchise or August Walker.
#henry cavill#august walker#august walker x ofc#august walker fanfiction#henry cavill fanfiction#the way to hell#henrycavill
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Beyond the Facade | knj
Pairing: handyman!namjoon X preacherskid!reader, bestfriend!taehyung X pregnant!reader, f2l!au
Word Count: 10,958
Genre: mysterious/angst/fluff/smut
Warning(s): strong language use, semi-detailed childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping, lots of flashbacks but that is the point of the story i sorry; Rated: 18+
Summary: A sheltered life leads to harbored secrets that are buried in order to protect someone you are falling in love with. As the time is nearing for the life growing inside you to be welcomed into the world, the reminiscences of all the moments unfold to reveal a beautiful story that needed to be told.
Credits to: @suhdays for making such a phenomenal header! The talent she has never ceases to amaze me!
The graying of the clouds is all you can see beyond your window other than the panging rain droplets now trickling upon the glass. Arm resting against your forehead, your lips press into a straight line in response to the series of thoughts circling your mind. Carefully, you slide your palms upon the mattress in an attempt to sit up, wanting to see more of the view besides the crying sky. Knuckles curling to rub your tired eyes, you furrow your brows, the comforting warmth of the bed covers remain tangled between your shins. Leafless trees border the side of the building save for a small swing set; a paved section decorated with a basketball hoop where a large shed stands many feet across from it. If one is to step outside the front of the structure, there sits a church surrounded by a gravel parking lot where the neighboring land hosts a barbed wire fence with an abandoned house and field.
It's been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you've been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, "Oomf," a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.
Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn't one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.
"So, when are you going to tell us?" The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver's side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it's been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor's appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, "we have a right to know."
Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.
Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you're freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, "Oh!" You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, "Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?" Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can't help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.
Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you've decided since your first doctor's visit that you do not want to know your baby's gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.
Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you're more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.
"Oh Namjoon, you scared me," a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.
"I'm so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you're okay," he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.
"It's no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,"
His dimples show from the way his lips press in a tight smile, nodding in reply, timorously turning to waltz to the outdoors in preparation of the day ahead. You watch until he disappears from your line of vision; the creep of a blush burning from your chest to your cheeks. Raking your hands through your hair, you force yourself once again to deny the attraction seeping through your soul thankful your blush attacked after he left.
Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father's wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father's office, is now changed into a bedroom.
It's strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.
Taehyung's arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.
"Shhh," he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, "It's going to be okay," he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you're thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.
"How?" You choke back another sob, "How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that's what it comes down to? Shit... My dad is going to fucking kill me," Taehyung's shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.
"Okay, now, you're being dramatic,"
"So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren't going to take this lightly,"
"Yeah, but I think it's safe to say that telling your parents you're pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,"
"Okay? Perhaps, you're right," a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, "especially not with what's been going on with the church, I don't know how much more they can take,"
"Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom," Taehyung's icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can't help but endure.
"Tae, I'm so so sorry,"
"Hey," he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you're just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, "you didn't know," sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you're close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you're going through, but you're not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung's lips part just enough to plead your attention.
You can't stop yourself, and you don't, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. "Tae," you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn't right. He knows this isn't right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there's anyone in this world you do not want to lose it's him.
There's no refraining, there's no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you're so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. "[Y/N]," he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. "[Y/N]," he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, "We- we can't,"
You haven't seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.
It's a secret you've suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can't help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother's affair with your father.
Rage isn't enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven't spoken to him. You'll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that's something that's hard to forgive.
Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church's back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung's family.
Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, "[Y/N]?"
"Yeah?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you're grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.
It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, "Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it's time... for you to have the baby?"
It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you've had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you're too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.
-Four months earlier-
Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don't have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.
"It's okay, it's okay," the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You're embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.
"I'm so sorry," you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your lips.
"You don't have to be sorry,"
"That... wasn't what I was apologizing for,"
A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can't bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn't discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn't one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.
Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can't seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.
"What if... what if I'm not good enough?" Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.
"How can you say that, [Y/N]?" The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can't care for the child that you're six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. "Look at me," are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It's the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon's eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. "You're going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,"
Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, "How can you be so sure?"
"Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about," it's not a question, he's stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. "You're stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?"
A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, "I do,"
"Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn't have a choice, and you'll let him or her know the second they're born,"
When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.
"You don't have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn't know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor's appointment bright and early," the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,
"Wait!" You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, "Can you uh, ... Can you stay in here with me tonight?" You've refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that's become apparent, and even now, you haven't been able to comprehend how he's not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he's already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, "Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are," you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.
By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it's no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.
"Have you thought about any names?" Taehyung's voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You've missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you're currently heating on the stove.
"No?" It's a brief question of guilt, something you haven't been ready to ponder, "Honestly... haven't thought that far ahead yet," you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.
The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, "I should have known,"
"Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?"
"Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,"
"Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,"
"And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,"
"Since how? I-"
"Ask Hoseok,"
"You lost a bet didn't you-"
"And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won't I?"
"With me around, you will,"
Hoseok is the deacon's son who's dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He's not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you're thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.
"You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-"
"Oh!" You playfully growl, "Back with that again, huh?"
"Do I need to send you a link of baby names-"
"I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?"
"You'd be surprised-"
Taehyung's excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.
The phone call ends whenever dinner is finished, and by that time, Namjoon scuffles through the door- the outdoorsy scent drifts to your nose while you place the sweltering bowls of soup on the table. Namjoon shimmers his feet from his work boots before hanging his coat, timidly glimpsing in your direction to confirm you're okay.
Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon's atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you've kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you're around.
Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you're uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.
"They don't know," your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon's soft eyes on you, his expression confused. "They don't know who the father is," that's when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you're referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, "I won't tell them." Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you're trying to bury beneath this web of fear. "Besides," you sigh heavily, "I'm surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here," you confess, "if he wasn't so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-"
"I wouldn't let that happen," Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he's proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.
The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor's appointment without any hesitation; with all that he's been doing for you, it's like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn't be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.
Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon's been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He's so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she's free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.
"Are you thinking boy or girl?" Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.
"Hm," you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that's being redeemed with her, "you know? I'm not very sure,"
"I can tell from all the colors you've chosen," she teased, "it looks beautiful," she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn't want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. "You're going to be a wonderful mother,"
The sound of the front door opens distracting you from the former memory, staring down at the table that now rests heaping plates of chicken and rice. The fellowship hall used to be filled with numerous rows of horizontal tables mingled with circular ones where the crowd would come to camaraderie to joyful hymnals, delicious food, reflected testimonies without any warning of the secrecies soon floating to the surface. Now a solo table, the one planted before you, pairs with a few sparse chairs just enough to seat at least four people.
"Hiya," you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, "How was your day?"
"It was good, thank you," he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, "How was yours with your mom?" His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It's hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, "It was good," you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, "Thank you... For helping me," the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you've been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.
"Anytime."
A blush floods your cheeks when he holds your timorous stare, so you avert your eyes to your dinner, letting the obvious feeling of Namjoon watching deepen the red shade on your skin. A few minutes disappear into time before you feel a shove against your abdomen from the inside. Your hand instinctively flies to press upon the baby bump, Namjoon jumping at the motion, stopping mid-chew, while his eyes enlarge in surprise.
"It's okay," you chortle at his reaction, "it's just the baby kicking," his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that's hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.
"Here," you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It's the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.
"I told you that you don't have to do this alone," he whispers, and it's then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can't refrain. He's too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That's all the invitation needed, for Namjoon's lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you've been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.
At this moment, you don't care what anyone thinks.
You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that's going to scare you away from that.
-Present day-
The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you've slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you're on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It's eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, "SURPRISE!", nearly knocks you to the ground.
Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. "What?" You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.
"Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!"
"I'm still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!" You say breathlessly, you're so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend's shoulder. Taehyung's fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, "Your father let you come?" There's a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae's father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.
"Well, no," Taehyung winces mischievously, "I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,"
"Of course, you did, you sly fox,"
"You know you love me," Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.
"You guys didn't have to do this," you're still wiping tears off your face, though it's evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, "What did I do to deserve the two of you?"
Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, "Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so," he tilts his head toward Taehyung, "And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,"
It doesn't take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.
"You two are on kissing terms, again?" Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that's something you're not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon's face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.
By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung's hair while some swiped across Namjoon's neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it's good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.
Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you're not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung's heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, "I'm sorry, [Y/N]. My dad's expecting me home soon,"
"I don't want you to go," you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.
"Please don't cry," he whispers near your ear, "Please, please don't cry," His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. "Oh my gosh!" You squeal, "Tae, it's adorable! Where did you find this?"
Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, "I made it myself. And," he pauses for effect, "since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta."
"Ta Ta?"
"Yeah, like 'Ta Ta... for now,'"
"Just when I thought I couldn't love your dork of a self even more," you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.
"I love you, too." His voice thickens with emotion, "Now, quit saying it like you're never going to see me again, because you know I'm not going anywhere."
"You promise?" Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It's a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he's always found within your heart. Taehyung's agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what's been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that's displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.
"I promise."
He hadn't kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it's too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.
Toddling to the nursery upon Tae's departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It's dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You've missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend's presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?
Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You're highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.
After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,
right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child's cradle,
you finally have a name picked out for your little one.
-
2 months later....
"Namjoon, I'll be fine," the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He's concerned as he's been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, "I'm not due until next week. Don't worry,"
"I know," he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, "But, I can't help it."
"I'll be fine," you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you're now feeling upon your lips. "Mm," you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, "You'll be back before you know it," you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.
"Okay," he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, "I love you,"
There's a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, "I love you, too, Joon," watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.
Of course, the day doesn't go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. "Oh," you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.
Suddenly, before you can comprehend what's happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.
"No," you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn't be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no 'thump' is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.
Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. "Agh!" A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn't take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.
"Hello?"
"Joon, it's time," you choke, voice thick with pain.
"Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I'm on my way, just hold tight, I'm coming-"
You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, "[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He's going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn't that wonderful?"
"Hello, it's nice to meet you," you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.
"It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Namjoon's polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you've grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There's a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.
Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, "[Y/N], I'm here! Baby, I'm right here," he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn't end, "I'm going to grab the suitcase, I'll be right back," time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver's side.
It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he's slowly but surely learning is that you're not one to give up so easily- something you've noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he's on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn't breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.
"Come help me," you plea hearing Taehyung's exasperated sigh on the other line.
"You are so annoying,"
"You know you love me, fool," you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.
"He doesn't even come to the services," Jo droned, "Don't you think it'd be best to get to know someone that's more... active in the church? Like the pianist's son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-"
You can't get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, "I'll catch you later,"
Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you're thinking about other than Namjoon who's keeping you sane.
"Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe," his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.
"GAH!" Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.
"You guys aren't going to stop until I'm your friend, am I right?" Namjoon's elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.
"Damn straight," you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon's tilting head.
"I thought church girls didn't cuss,"
"And I thought you'd have more game than the basketball," You retort.Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, "Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"
With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, "Okay," the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung's arms.
"HAH!" You sprint, colliding into Taehyung's embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, "Looks like it's going to be a burger and fries' kind of night," you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.
The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you're safe. "It's okay, it's okay," he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN' – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE' helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.
Namjoon's calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You're not sure of all the commotion that's overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, "Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out." Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, "Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,"
"Taehyung... My mom... Dad-" you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.
"No worries baby, they're on their way. They're on their way right now," he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.
The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon's atheism as well as him providing for his family.
"My dad couldn't find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes," it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. "Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck..." Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you've been determined to gain since meeting him.
It's weeks later that you'll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you've grown so fond of. There's no denying the feelings he's had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn't left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.
Time doesn't seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. "Ten centimeters-" He confirms, "Alright, [Y/N], the baby's coming. When I say push, you push. Okay," he positions himself though you can't see anything past your gown and raised knees, "One, two, three! Push!"
"AGH!" You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.
"Breathe, breathe," Namjoon's hand hasn't once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.
"Is she here!?" The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. "Oh, honey, I'm here!" It's your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung's red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, "Push!"
"AAAAAAAGH!" You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon's. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.
"I'm- I'm so glad you both are here," you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, "Push!" erupts.
"I'm scared," you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon's soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don't know where your parents are, and you're too angry to care. You're bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you'd hate to discover what the consequences will be.
"Me too," his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You've never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you're curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.
His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, "I want you," you whisper. He knows that you're a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. "Are you sure this is what you want," concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.
"I don't think I've wanted anyone so much in my life,"
You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you've grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. "More," you beg, "Please, Joon, more." When clothes start to be thrown off, you're determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. "Show me," you breathlessly demand, Namjoon's palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You're surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn't bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. "Holy shit," he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.
Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you're hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, "Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!"
He's not ready for you to finish because there's more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.
"Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!"
Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung's gaze doesn't drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you're ready to see the child you've been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin's. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, "It's a girl,"
"Oh!" You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.
"Sir, would you like to do the honors?" The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can't even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.
"Wait," Your mom says, "Is- is?"
It's a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung's shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.
"Yes," the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad's although your mother's stare remains on you, "Namjoon is the father."
Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter's heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?
Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter's cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, "She is seven pounds and five ounces,"
Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father's quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.
"Are you ready to hold her?" Monnie's kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.
"Yes," you stifle a sob, "I want to hold her,"
Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. "She's so perfect," you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter's fingers fold individually upon her chest.
"Just like you," Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.
"I love you, Joon," you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.
"I love you, too."
"Uh," the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, "So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question," the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, "What's her name?"
"Ah," you nod, realizing that hasn't been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he's ever longed for and more, and he's ready to defeat any storm in life if it's with you and his daughter.
To answer Tae's question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.
"Taejun." Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,
"Her name is Kim Taejun."
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- sugar & spice (m) jjk & kth
➻ summary: “Your assistant Jungkook has been harbouring secret feelings for you, the sweet bakery owner, for some time now. But what will happen when Taehyung, handsome, smooth as ever and mysteriously new to town comes along to sweep you off your feet?”
➻ Kiki’s Delivery Service!AU
➻ word count: 20.8k
➻ pairing: older baker!reader x baker assistant Jungkook x upperclass Taehyung.
➻ warnings: angst, reader doubts herself a lot, unprotected penetrative sex (pls keep this a fantasy only and wrap it), oral m. and f. receiving, spitroasting, creampie...hehe, food play, mentions of mxm, pregnancy, pregnant sex, lactation, squirting, anal fingering, anal sex, double penetration, daddy kink, and somehow also tooth rotting fluff.
➻ A/N: Thank you to my lovely cutie pie and fellow cherry koo enthusiast @gingerpeachtae for beta reading this for me! 🍒💜 The age of the reader is totally up to you! I’m absolutely in love with this AU, it’s the fluffiest yet the filthiest thing I’ve ever written yet. If you’re wondering about the time period, the film is set in a kind of alternate 30s though it’s not confirmed.
Moodboard I Music
It started with the gardenia.
The first time Taehyung visited your bakery he had left behind a small white flower on the bakery counter when you weren’t looking, startling you in the most pleasant of ways when you nearly crushed it with your hand. You lifted the petals to brush the tip of your nose as you sampled the sweet scent, a blush warming your cheeks as you remembered how his charming smile had you flustered and fretful yet so endeared. However, what was not lost on you was the meaning behind it. Secret love.
“...Miss?” A voice trailed off, disturbing you from your wandering thoughts and turning your attention to the customer right in front of you. “May I please get four apple danishes, a loaf of bread and a box of orange poppy seed muffins?”
“Sorry, yes of course! One moment please, hey Kookie?” You called in a singsong voice as you slipped into the back workroom. “We’ve got another order for orange poppyseed, how long will they be?”
Your part-time helper came in the form of Jeon Jungkook, but you liked to call him Kookie due to his sweet nature. He was six feet tall, ridiculously muscled and had an adorable bunny smile. He did most of the oven work, tending to the fires and cleaning in the kitchen, but helped you with some of the baking as well. He was particularly gifted at making the most exquisite citrus flavoured cakes, and had more recently been trying to perfect cream puffs.
“Not long, noona. They’ve been very popular lately,” he mused, dimples etched deeply into his cheeks as he grinned. A smudge of black from the coal darkened one, and you couldn’t help but tut.
“Of course they are, they’re delicious and it’s going to be spring soon...also you have soot on your face again, Kook,” you informed him, wiping it away with an endeared smile. The gentle tingle of the bell alerted you to another customer entering the store, and you hurried back out the front to continue running your popular business.
“Sorry, the orange poppyseed will be ready soon. Are you happy to wait?”
“Of course!” The young lady remarked, tilting to the left slightly to get a glimpse of Jungkook.
You remember the day he had come by your bakery, spotting the sign in your window stating you were looking for a kitchen hand. It was over three years ago now, the young man had just moved here for a change in scenery and was looking for a job. The picturesque seaside town provided the perfect scenery for his hobby of photography, and he was saving up to buy a better camera than the second hand one he currently owned.
It was astonishing how quickly he grew and matured in that time as well, hitting almost a second puberty and growing tall and filling out very nicely. The ladies in the town didn’t miss it either. It was a shame he was so shy around them, looking so out of place with a blush dusting his cheeks when he would catch a flock of them whispering to each other about if the cute baker was seeing anyone. They certainly weren’t coy about the way they would stare at his bulging biceps as he hoisted around the large trays of steaming fresh bread loaves, or wouldn’t hesitate to ogle his behind when he squatted to reach the lower shelves behind the counter. If only he could get a clue, but alas, he was absolutely oblivious.
After about ten minutes Jungkook emerged from the back room to refill the glass display with his cakes that would no doubt be gone within the hour. He handed the young lady a bagful, and flustered when her fingers brushed a little boldly over his.
“These are really delicious, Mr. Jeon. I would even dare say they’re my favorite. Perhaps you’d like to join me later and we can share them?” She asked him, a glint of hope in her eyes at the way he gawked at her.
From how pretty she was, you didn’t blame him. In fact, a tiny inkling of jealousy unfurled within you, wishing that you could have handsome men line up the way women did for him. Sure, the young man may have wiggled his way into your heart, setting down roots that began small but steadily grew, but he didn’t seem to return your fledgling feelings. A small smile found its way onto his face - nothing like the one you got from him every morning when you opened up the shop together - but nonetheless he was still smiling at her.
“Or you could even give me a private lesson on baking? I just had my kitchen redone, it’s so grand.” The young woman suggested, but it was when he started becoming flustered for a response that you realised how uncomfortable he was, and how grotesque and ugly it was for you to be jealous in the first place. “The bench is just the perfect he-”
“I’m afraid Jungkook is working right now, and business is really quite demanding at the moment,” you interrupted, causing her sweet expression to sour. “Remember the wedding at the end of the week? We’ve got a lot of orders to finish up on.”
If looks could kill, you’d surely be six feet under from the bitter expression she shot at you. She huffed and gathered her things, leaving without her usual generous tip. Upon her disappearing from sight, Jungkook let out a long breath, shoulders slumping in relief.
“Thank you noona, I really didn’t like the direction that conversation was taking,” he murmured, looking off into space like he was having a traumatic flashback before shuddering violently. “I can close up shop, you should have an early finish for once, you work too hard.”
You opened your mouth to protest but he shushed you, insisting. “No really, I got it covered. Thank you again, noona.” He swooped in to peck you on the cheek before pushing you toward the back. Powerless against his inhumane strength, you had no choice but to be ushered halfway up the stairs before he bounded back down and returned to the shop.
When you reached the top of the stairs your black cat Jiji was quick to rub around your ankles, purring and meowing for food. You chuckled softly at his dramatic antics, more than once having to shoo him away as you fill his bowl with wet food, scraping the bottom of the tin. Some got on your fingers and you scrunched your nose in distaste, wiping your dirty fingers on your apron before untying it and placing it in your washing basket, absentmindedly wondering what you could do.
You supposed you could always finish off the spread for the wedding pastries and, most importantly, the cake. Sketches were strewn across the coffee table, and you sat down on the couch with a huff, vowing to finish it by tonight. Your eyes were drawn to a photograph of the couple, arms around each other in a sweet embrace as the photo was taken. It was the day they were examining the potential wedding venue, you remember how she gushed about the amount of flowers in the garden when she left you the photographs. Her wedding cake was to be white and have lots of iced flowers on each tier, it was simple yet so beautiful. She seemed happy. You wondered when you would find someone who would return your love the way her fiance seemed to, if his look of adoration was anything to go by. Then you remembered the gardenia, and how you met the young man you gave it to you.
It was getting quite late in the day and your shop normally had a few stragglers around this time, however, this evening it was empty. You had your head stuck in the display case, reaching far in to wipe down each shelf. The soft ringing of the bell on your door didn’t reach your ears, nor the footsteps that made their way to the counter.
You jumped in fright when a face appeared in front of yours, slightly warped through the glass. He stared for a moment too long before you hurriedly freed yourself, dusted off your apron and smoothed any frizzy baby hairs you knew would probably be sticking up. He was impeccably dressed in a white shirt with a button up vest that was almost gold in colour, shimmering in the afternoon sun. From the looks of his attire he surely came from money. As his head turned to the side you noted he had a lovely profile and the rest of his facial features were mostly symmetrical. Lucky bastard, you knew many people who would kill for the natural beauty he so effortlessly possessed, the type of beauty that simply couldn’t be bought. However, the small signs of weariness did not escape you as his eyes took in your little shop. Finally, they landed on you and strangely you felt the need to squirm.
“Good evening, sir,” you greeted politely, wondering if he would be entitled like most of the good looking, rich folk.
He stepped up to the counter. “I hope I’m not keeping you, am I? If it’s too late, that's alright. Though it would be a shame, I’ve been told very good things about this place and I’m exhausted.” His jacket was slung over one arm, hair wind ruffled and a pair of thin wire glasses balanced upon his well-set central nose. It wasn’t unusual for wealthy people to pass through this coastal town on their travels, though they rarely came this late to the bakery.
“No no, I’m not one to turn away a valued customer, what can I get for you?”
“Coffee please, I’m dead on my feet and I need to stay awake for a little longer.”
You nodded, well practiced hands already beginning to brew his drink. “Long journey? I take it you’re not from around here, and we do get a lot of travellers.”
“Very observant, Miss. I’ve just arrived to manage the large branch of my father’s shipping company that’s located in this coastal town. I was told it had very pretty scenery, but nobody told me it also has very pretty bakers here.” He remarked with a sly grin and you almost lost your grip on the coffee cup at his brazen compliment. He chuckled softly at your lack of response, not wanting to make you too flustered. “May I sit?”
“O-Oh, yes. Of course,” you stammered, kicking yourself for your stuttering. You were normally a fairly confident girl, yet all it takes is one handsome stranger to reduce you to this? Get a grip. He bowed softly in thanks, before turning and draping his jacket over the back of one of the chairs. You found your line of sight wandering down his back to the behind of his well tailored suit pants. The ladies in the town are going to eat him alive in the morning, he’ll soon forget about you and this little place. Yet, you found yourself slipping a small vanilla slice onto the plate beside his cup as a little welcome gift, adamant that you weren’t trying to impress him.
“Thank you,” he said, sounding more than a little tired. Incapable of thinking up a coherent response you bow quickly, spotting the fingerprints all over the glass of the display cabinet and set to work cleaning them. A soft groan makes you whip your head back around to look at him, did he get hurt? What if you made his coffee too hot and he burned himself or his tongue? His face was scrunched up almost as if he was in pain and he licked his lips a few times, seeing them moisten from his tongue caused you to swallow hard.
“Oh wow - this, is this vanilla?” He suddenly asked, and your eyes widened, he seemed more alert and staring at you now that his cup was empty. “I’m more of a dark chocolate person but my my, this is delectable. Normally I don’t drink coffee, but given how exhausted I was it was welcomed. The sweetness of the vanilla balanced it out perfectly, thank you. How much is it?”
“Oh no! The slice is on the house, consider it a little welcome to town gift,” you insisted.
His sweet expression faltered and he tutted, standing slowly and gathering his things. “If you aren’t going to tell me then I suppose this will have to do,” he sighed, pulling out a note far too large for the price of any of the little pastries in your shop from his wallet. You gasped and went to grab it and give it back to him, but he snatched it away before his other hand captured yours and the money was pressed into your palm along with...something else? Before you could think of what it might be, he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back.“It was lovely to meet you, Miss...?”
“Oh, um. Y/N.”
“Y/N...what a beautiful name.” With that he left the bakery, disappearing into the dust pink evening, the little bell attached to the door softly jingling. You realised your hands were trembling from the press of his petal-soft lips, and when you opened your palm to look at the money there was also a small white flower. A gardenia? Where did he get that from?You hadn’t seen any around town.
You picked up the slightly dried-out flower from a few days ago, twirling it in your fingers and smiling when you could smell it still held a strong aroma. The fresh one from this afternoon was still in your apron pocket, and you fished it out from the washing basket gently, trying not to damage the petals. An idea popped into your head for scent bags, and you jumped up to rummage through your shop supplies for a brown paper gift bag.
It hung in your wardrobe nicely, and would make your clothes smell lovely. He’d only given you two, but maybe he was going to bring one every time? Where were they even coming from? He- you stopped your little tangent of thoughts, cursing yourself for getting so hopeful. Surely he pulled that trick with every young woman he met. You weren’t going to lie, the second time he left you a flower you got your hopes up. But the amount of women who walked about the town with a flower in their delicate gloved hand gave you your doubts.
As a distraction you threw yourself into your work, finalising the ingredient lists, accounts, designs and much more for the wedding cake and patisseries. Your mood was lifted somewhat, after all, that was your passion. Many days as a child you had helped your grandmother in her little kitchen. You reminisced back to the days where she taught you the secret recipe for her pumpkin scones, now one of your bestsellers.
Some time later you decided enough was enough, as your eyes grew heavier and increasingly difficult to keep open. The rest of your work could wait until tomorrow and you gladly flopped down on your awaiting bed, resting your stinging eyes for five minutes. The lamp on your bedside table casted a soft glow about the room, and you didn’t remember drifting off to sleep.
Soft chirping met your ears, muffled on one side where your face snuggled into the pillow. You groaned when something wet and feather light brushed against your cheek a few times. A louder, more piercing meow made you crack your eyes open to meet large green ones, a rumbling purr starting.
“Morning, Jiji.”
Your limbs were stiff and aching, you almost thought they might creak like the old wood of your floorboards if you were to stretch a little too hard. A huff of discomfort left your lips, annoyed at yourself for nodding off so easily without washing or even brushing your teeth. As you rose from the double bed in your small yet comfortable upstairs flat, your muscles protested but you gripped the ensuite bench for support, working hunched over your coffee table for long periods of time never ended well. However, it’s where you seemed most focused. Wincing when you took in your unruly hair and puffy under eyes in the mirror. Nonetheless, it was nothing a warm shower couldn’t fix.
The steaming hot water ran over your shoulders and felt like heaven, relaxing the tension and chasing away that early morning chill that was only just leaving as spring fully came around.You lathered a generous amount of shampoo and your favourite sweet smelling conditioner which you only used for special occasions, such as if you were going to bump into a certain special someone today.
Loud meows came from outside your bathroom, only increasing in volume as you cracked the door open, still toweling off your damp locks. “Okay okay, at least let me get dressed first. Stop acting like you’re going to starve, I actually think you’re getting a bit fat Jiji,” you mused as you finished pulling the dress over your head. Your eager feline bounded into the kitchen, and you went to follow only to jump in fright as you entered the living room.
Curled up on the couch that was a little too short for him was a fast asleep Jungkook, looking so peaceful with his cheek squished against one of your too hard decorative pillows. Jiji trotted over to the couch, jumping up without a care in the world and sniffed at his face. Jungkook’s nose wrinkled at the wet ticklish sensation, cracking his eyes open and moving to sit up. When he spotted you looking at him through half asleep eyes, he froze. You quickly thanked the heavens you hadn’t walked into your living room without any clothes on as you sometimes do.
“Did your bicycle chain snap again, Kook?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, the hair on one side of his head sticking up, not looking you in the eye as he nodded sheepishly. You sighed, this was the third time now and you were becoming angry with the repairs shop. “That’s it, I’m buying you a new one or something, anything would be better. I know you’re attached to that thing but it’s so old now. I just don’t want you getting stranded,” you fussed softly, pinching his chin and making him look at you. “Now go wash up while I make us some breakfast. There’s some clean clothes of yours in the laundry that you never took home, you can change into those.”
“Thank you noona, really.” He beamed, pulling you in for a warm hug that instantly had you melting into his embrace. Your hand found its way into the back of his long dark brown locks, scratching his scalp softly drawing a shiver from his large frame. Unconsciously his arms tightened around you and you let out a soft noise, causing Jungkook to release you instantly. He murmured a soft apology, scrambling downstairs to the laundry. You laughed to yourself at how funny he could be sometimes, blissfully unaware at the fact that he was running away so you wouldn’t spot the rapidly growing tent in his pants.
A short while later he emerged from your bathroom, still shivering slightly from the cold water but he was feeling extra refreshed. The appetizing smell of whatever you were cooking wafted into his nostrils and he plopped down at the kitchen table while toweling off his wet hair. His eyes followed your figure as you moved about the kitchen, and the domesticity of it all made his heart flutter. How he wished things would be like this every morning.
He knew he was staring again, openly admiring your side profile and his eyes couldn’t help the way they trailed further down. You had a little stomach from all the sweet things you sampled, and Jungkook sometimes couldn’t help the way he stared at your hands smoothing over your apron. His mind wandered until he was imagining how beautiful you’d look pregnant with his baby. His cock twitched in his trousers at the mental image of your belly swollen as you squirmed naked on soft white sheets, whining softly for him to fill y-
“...Kook? Jungkook!” You yelled out, waving a wooden spoon in his direction and his jaw snapped shut and he sat up straighter. “There you are, you sure do zone out a lot, don’t you? For the third time, can you set the table please?” He stood up a little too quick almost causing the chair to topple over, and you laughed softly. He was an odd one alright. “Must be interesting things you’re daydreaming about,” you mused while serving the eggs onto the plates, and it was a good thing your back was turned or you might have seen the way Jungkook almost dropped the cutlery all over the floor.
Later that day you were busy finishing up with another customer, carefully placing the cakes you had finished icing this morning into her basket.
“Fourteen gold pieces, please. I hope the party goes well, I can’t believe he’s seven already,” you remarked as you placed the coins into the blue register. The two of you gushed over her adorable son, who peeked at you over the top of the counter, and you quietly slipped him a small cookie while his mother wasn’t looking. He shyly thanked you, and you were so enraptured in his chubby little cheeks that you didn’t notice the way all conversations around the bakery fell silent for a moment. The little bell on the door rung, signifying someone had entered and you noticed the movement in the corner of your eye but ignored it in favour of waving goodbye to the little boy. He waved cheerfully in return, a small bite already taken from the biscuit, his other hand clasped in his mother’s and you sighed. Children were something you’d wanted for a while, but you tried not to dwell on it as you wiped away the crumbs left on the counter.
After a moment you grabbed your notepad from the pocket of your apron, rounding the counter and making your way to the table where the new patron had seated themselves moments ago. However, you stopped abruptly when you recognised him as the man who had left you the flower not long ago. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his profile. He settled into his chair, leaning back and hooked an ankle over his knee so his legs were comfortably crossed, and the movement accentuated the slight bulge of his crotch.
He placed a book on his lap and flicked through the pages, his hand coming up to adjust the thin wire spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose which had slipped a little, and from where you were standing you could see he had a little freckle on the tip. What was it with handsome men and having a cute little freckle? Jungkook had one under his lip which he often grumbled about being there, but you often told him it was rather endearing.
His tongue darted out to wet the tip of his finger and he smoothly flipped the page, the movement definitely drew your eye. Fuck, even his hands were beautiful, now you were nervous and your feet seemingly glued on the spot. The tip of your pen tapped against your little notepad, leaving small dots on the paper and you muttered angrily at your fidgeting. What were you so nervous for? He was just another customer, he never even told you his name. You took a tiny step forward, only to stop when you saw a young lady take a seat opposite him.
Large doe-like eyes suddenly stopped in front of you, Jungkook’s mouth parted as he stared at you in confusion, that freckle now right in front of your eyes. “Noona? Are you okay?” He asked, a hint of concern evident in his tone. Your eyes dropped as you snapped out of your slight stuper, only to land on the swell of his bicep as he carried a tray filled with freshly baked bread. God, what was wrong with you?
“Yeah of course! I just, um...realised something. Would you mind seeing if table four needs anything?” You risked a glance around Jungkook’s large frame, only to lock eyes with the man you’d just been staring at. The alluring chocolate colour of his eyes sent a jolt down your spine, and you jumped back behind your assistant. To make things less awkward you snatched the first thing that was in your sight as Jungkook moved away to place the tray down. You happened to grab the cloth you were just using thankfully, beginning to frantically wipe the side of the counter. God you were so stupid. Of course he was a complete flirt, he’d only been in town a few days and was already drawing in multiple women, yourself included, with his deceptive charm.
You picked up a basket to wipe away at the crumbs underneath, but as you were putting it down a throat cleared beside you. The leather shoes that came into your view looked expensive, and your stomach dropped. As you lifted your gaze the curious expression on his face made you suck in a tiny breath, and unable to look away you dropped the basket back onto the counter. Unfortunately, it was too close to the edge and began tipping over, he surged forward suddenly to attempt to steady it behind you, effectively pinning you against the counter with his form. You gasped when suddenly his cologne bombarded your senses with warm, spicy cinnamon and...apples? The likely expensive scent made your knees feel weak, and the warmth of his arms pressed into your sides had your heart racing. His efforts were in vain, however, as the basket toppled to the ground, and small bread rolls scattered across the floor.
The tip of his nose brushed against your scalp, and he hummed pleasantly. “Your hair smells lovely today, Miss (Y/N),” he observed, and you swear your heart was about to give out from how rapidly it was thundering in your chest. So he noticed.
“Oh, thank you Mr…”
“Taehyung. Mr. Kim if you please, but Taehyung will do just fine.” Even as he spoke ever so casually, he made no move to step back.
His gaze dropped to your heaving chest as you were breathless from the proximity and palpable tension. Suddenly, it occurred to you that the neckline you had picked today was rather low cut, the fabric around your bust a little strained with each breath you took.
You wanted to stay exactly where you were, quivering with excitement from being pressed right up against him. However, embarrassment got the better of you, a blush coming on strongly to your cheeks and you slipped out from the cage of his arms and kneeled to the ground. Thankfully, he couldn’t see your flushed state as you grabbed the pieces of scattered pastry. You felt unease rise within you when he crouched down beside you, dropping the bread back into the basket as well.
“Oh no, please don’t worry about that Mr. Kim. I can manage myself, besides this is my fault. Clumsy,” you scolded yourself quietly, shaking your head.
“No, it’s fine. I thought I might catch it but apparently my coordination is not as good as I thought,” he chuckled, silence filling the following moments as you continued to grab the bread. “You must keep pretty busy, huh? It’s a good thing you have your boyfriend to help you out.”
Your eyes widened at his assumption. “Oh-no no, Jungkook’s not-he’s not my boyfriend. Just my assistant,” you explained, feeling your cheeks heat up again as you avoided his gaze once the two of you were standing, no longer crawling around the floor. The counter was covered in crumbs and flakes from the bread and suddenly you were very interested in picking at them. “I’m far too old to be his girlfriend anyway.”
You couldn’t see the frown breaking out across Taehyung’s face, but as he opened his mouth to protest Jungkoook came striding over. “Noona, is everything okay? It’s not like you to drop good bread,” he questioned quietly, coming to stand just a little too close. The image of him acting like your guard dog came across your mind, hackles raised and ready to fight off any threats to his territory. You so wanted to be but you didn’t belong to either of them, they deserved much better. The young girl who was sitting with Taehyung only moments ago was looking over with concern at the tense atmosphere. Jungkook still stood uncomfortably close, silently challenging the man still standing in your personal space unabashedly.
“Yeah Kook, I’m good,” you replied, reaching out and gently patting his bicep. He looked at you suspiciously, not quite convinced but he nodded and slinked out the back anyway. Taehyung almost glared at Jungkook for another second before stepping back, however, he still stood quite close. Both of you hovered for a moment, you could sense he wanted to ask something. Not even a moment later, he did.
“The wedding this weekend, I was just wondering if you would be attending? Someone mentioned you were making the cake for it, among other pastries.”
“No,” you blurted out the obvious lie, all of a sudden taken aback by his question. Was he asking you out? The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you sensed another pair of eyes on you, coming from his table.
“Oh,” he muttered, looking a little dejected. “So...you won’t be there? They’re friends of my family actually, so I’ll be in attendance.”
“No, sorry. I have another engagement, but Jungkook will be there!” You reiterated, not sure why you were lying to him. His expression soured momentarily, and another patron wandered up to the unattended counter. You were thankful for a way out and hurried away from the awkward conversation. He fidgeted with the brass button on his creaseless vest for a moment before slumping back into his seat. The nerve of that man! He had another girl with him, watching the whole thing unfold and he had the disrespect to practically ignore her. She certainly was beautiful, just like him. Definitely the type of woman that was more suited to him, rather than something so ordinary like you.
Jungkook came past just as you finished up with another customer, but you flagged him down before he could escape. “Oh Jungkook! I actually have a favour to ask of you…”
Stupid. That’s what you were. You sulked about the catering room, plating the little pastries for after the reception desert taking place soon. While you had an unmeasurable and intense focus when it came to your work, your passion, right now you couldn’t help but be on edge. The knowledge that Taehyung was around somewhere had your stomach churning with anxiousness at the thought of running into him, after blatantly telling him you wouldn’t be here.
At least, it wasn’t entirely a lie. You really thought you weren’t going to be here as Jungkook had eagerly agreed to be in your place right now. Part of you wanted to test what he wouldn’t do for you. However, when he came to tell you he’d actually been offered some photography work tonight you couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in his eye. That was something you couldn’t bear to take away from him. After you told him to accept the offer he halfheartedly protested, not wanting to disrupt your plans. But in truth you could tell he was disappointed he wouldn’t be able to go, and you weren’t having a bar of it.
So here you were, checking each iced flower on the tall wedding cake meticulously for any that had fallen off on the trip here. Every few seconds, however, you threw a glance over your shoulder for a certain Mr. Kim.
“Y/N!” Someone behind you exclaimed, the voice definitely male and you froze, slowly turning to prolong the inevitable. When the groom’s face was the only one you could see your shoulders slumped in relief and returned his smile. “It’s...it’s beautiful, thank you so much. You’ve made my fiance very happy. Oops, wife I should say!” He quickly corrected himself, cheeks flushed red no doubt from the champagne, the glass he held fully and freshly bubbling.
“It’s certainly my pleasure. While I love baking itself there’s something so special in seeing where my goods go,” you observed, peeking out into the main hall where everyone sat about finishing the main course. “However, my work here is done I think.”
Right as you finished speaking the bride wondered in looking for her now husband, the moment their eyes met a giddy smile broke out on both their faces. The action caused your heart to clench in your chest as she reached out and slotted her hand into his awaiting palm. He drew it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles and she looked away with a grin, suddenly noticing you standing there.
“Oh, Y/N! Are you leaving? Already? Won’t you stay for a drink?”
“I-um...maybe not.” You chewed on your lip. “I really must be going.”
“Just one drink, please?” She insisted, taking the glass from her husband and pushing it into your hand. When she pouted at you in such a way, it was hard to say otherwise.
Well... just one drink won’t hurt.
Two hours and definitely more than one glass of champagne later, you finally bade your farewell. A gust of chilly air rushed past you as you made your way outside, making you grip your arms where goosebumps were forming. God you wished you brought your jacket, how could you have forgotten? At least it was cooling down your cheeks which were flushed bright red and warm from the alcohol you’d had. There was no way you were driving home this evening, you’d have to call for a driver. Or perhaps you could walk as it wasn’t too far. Deciding the latter would be sufficient - and cheaper, not to mention - you set off in the direction of your bakery, weaving around the pedestrians on the footpath.
Other than the wind that picked up and drew a shiver from you, you began to think this wasn’t so bad - until your intoxicated form stumbled on an uneven paving stone. You hit someone square in the back, grabbing the back of their coat to steady yourself as you garbled a hundred apologies. By some miracle the man didn’t fall down and you thanked the heavens, only to take it back as he turned to look at your flustered face.
Low and behold, there stood the very man you were trying to avoid. Kim Taehyung.
“Miss (Y/L/N)? Well, what a pleasant surprise,” he said with a smirk, while embarrassment burned a hole right through you. “What brings you here?” Of course it was just your luck you’d bump into him - literally - right as you were almost out of there. He looked delectable as always, dressed head to toe in finely tailored clothing. His pants were pressed with a perfect crease down the middle of each leg, fine jacket fitting his broad shoulders perfectly. The hat he was wearing, however, captured your attention and you almost forgot he asked you something.
“Oh! I... um... well, you see, I-,” you managed to get out. Words! Use words you fool, you scolded yourself internally. Something about the man in front of you rendered you speechless, yet he only gave you a small smile and waited patiently for you to find your words, stepping back a bit and slipping his hands into his pockets.
Still, your mind remained blank. The hilarity of the situation hit you and a giggle bubbled forth from your lips. You smacked your hand over your mouth, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth from the numerous glasses of champagne you’d downed. Taehyung looked at you with an endearingly curious expression, brows furrowing with a chuckle.
“And what, pray tell, is so funny?” He asked quirking an eyebrow, the fact that you failed to answer him did not go unnoticed. You tried to speak but only more laughs came out until your shoulders were shaking with the action, tears welling in your eyes.
“Your hat is very funny, why is it so strange? It’s lopsided, and flat. What’s this little thing on top?” You reached up to flick at it, not realising how close you had gotten until you softly bumped into his solid frame.
“Woah, easy there (Y/N).” The words were whispered huskily right into your ear as he steadied you, and you found yourself trembling from his touch as you were caught off guard. “Wouldn't want you to trip and hurt yourself, now would we?”
“N-No, of course not,” you replied, flustered and he eyed you carefully. After a moment he released your arms to shuck off his jacket, and before you could blink it was dropped around your shoulders. The material felt expensive and warm and the delicious smell of his cologne filled your senses, the spicy scent of toasted cinnamon causing you to turn to putty.
“It’s cold tonight,” he observed, looking up to the cloudless sky. You followed his gaze, admiring all the bright stars twinkling in the twilight. This moment was something you wanted to treasure forever, where you stood thinking about nothing but now nice the sky looked and a beautiful man had offered you his jacket to keep you warm. Alas, it had to end eventually. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
His words brought you rushing back to reality, and you looked at him suddenly. “Oh, I was just going to walk but I can call for a driver it’s fine, rea-”
One stern look from him had you shrinking back into the jacket, he was not taking no for an answer and you nodded sheepishly. The hairs on the back of your neck stood to attention as a cold shiver gripped your bones, only intensified by an icy gust of wind. His hand slid across your shoulders, pulling you into his warm side as he guided you in the direction of where he must be parked.
Being the gentleman he was, he opened the passenger seat door for you, and once you were safely in he slipped into the driver's seat. There was a long stretch of comfortable silence as he started the ignition and smoothly pulled out onto the road, his hand not on the steering wheel resting dangerously close to your thigh.
“The hat, it’s called a beret. My younger sister bought it for me while she was studying in France, I should have introduced her the other day.”
“The... other day? Have I seen her before?”
“Yes, in the bakery when our little... accident happened,” he reminisced with a small chuckle, once again finding amusement in your embarrassment.
Suddenly it dawned on you, the young girl he was sitting with when he came over to talk to you. That was his little sister. You were glad he didn’t, seeming as though you’d just made an absolute fool out of yourself in front of her. No wonder she looked so beautiful, they came from the same pool of blessed genes. Silence filled the rest of the journey, and before you knew it the car was no longer moving, Taehyung was opening your door for you again and you stepped out.
The heavy material of his jacket slipped from your shoulders and you handed it back to him as another chilly gust swept past. He accepted it gratefully, putting it back on immediately and shoving his hands back into his pockets. Well, it was now or never you decided.
“Would you… like to come in for a drink?” You offered before you could psych yourself out.
“I don’t really…” he trailed off and immediately you feared you had been too bold.
“Oh. That’s fine, no trouble at all,” you murmured dejectedly.
“I mean, I don’t drink alcohol. Not if I can help it, I don’t find the taste very pleasant. That and I don’t hold myself well. Some tea would be much appreciated, though,” he proposed.
“Yes… yes, of course. It would be nice to warm up a little.” Uncertainty hung in the air, looming over your head for a moment too long before he nodded.
“That would be very nice, thank you.”
Your hands fumbled with the keys, loud jingling making you wince as you missed the lock a few times. At this point you’d sobered up quite quickly, the shake of your hand being caused by your nerves betraying you instead of the champagne. It had been quite a good hour since your last glass and you were no longer feeling the effects. Taehyung’s warm hand closed over yours, steadying your shaking fingers and your breath hitched as the metal key slid smoothly into the lock. It was relatively dark and you were glad only the faint light of the streetlamp guided you as you cracked the door open, trembling in anticipation of what was to come. The two of you slipped inside the dark bakery, shoulders brushing as you turned to shut the door and lock it behind you.
“So… what do you fancy?” You asked, turning to look at his figure which looked all the more enticing half in the shadows. “A cup of tea? Some chocolate croissants, perhaps?”
He only shook his head slowly, taking a step toward you. “What do I fancy, you ask? Well...you.”
“M-me?” You asked, your insides doing a flip in excitement.
“Yes. You like croissants? I bet you’d love Paris, so many incredible pastry chefs there, among… other things.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a very romantic place, I could take you one day? I’d like that… ” he trailed off and you blinked quickly, unable to look away from his gaze.
“Not just for the pastries?”
“Not just for the pastries, petal.”
He backed you up against the now locked door, eyes piercing yours with an intensity that made your abdomen clench; however, there was something else in his eyes. Something softer, and you felt that sweetness in the way he ever so slowly pressed against you. The first brush of his lips against yours was not hurried and needy like you expected it to be, and when he pulled away you felt an ache in your heart so strong it left you breathless.
“Taehyung…” you whispered, breaths beginning to grow heavier as your nerves dissipated to be replaced by lust and longing. He whispered your name back, before sweetly capturing your lips once more, his tongue demanding entrance to explore your mouth which you easily granted. Your fingers fisted in the lapels of his jacket, creases forming in the perfectly ironed material as the feeling of his tongue forcing yours into submission drew a moan from you. A large hand cupped the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself as he pressed you harder against the door, the kiss growing hungrier with each lave of the hot, wet muscle. You guided him back, shuffling blindly around, neither of you daring to interrupt your locked lips or even take a breath. Your back bumped into the counter and finally you broke apart for air, looking at your surroundings, somehow you’d ended up behind the bakery counter.
Taehyung’s hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you flush to him, and the action drew a gasp from you as you were pressed right up against his solid, throbbing length. The searing heat of it could be felt even through the layers of clothing that still separated your flesh, and your pelvic floor clenched around nothing in retaliation. Suddenly his hold on you tightened and he hoisted you smoothly onto the counter with very little effort. Now that you were at his level he wasted no time in getting right back into it.
“I wondered why it is that you haven’t been swooped up by anybody yet,” he mused between the breathless kisses you’d been enraptured in, fingers still gripping at your soft flesh through the thin material of your dress.
“There are plenty of other-mmf, pretty and young women in this town, certainly more attractive than I am. Why me?” you whispered against his lips, still pinching yourself that this was really happening. God, it’s been so long since you’d been with a man. His kisses trailed down your jaw, the warmth of his lips pressing into your sensitive neck.
“Hmm, I suppose,” he hummed, pausing to nibble on the spot just below your ear and you tipped your head back to allow him easier access. “They are very much like flowers, blossoming under the male attention they so desperately crave. They’re only pretty to look at, but that’s it. They might as well be just an accessory. Whereas you, sweet thing, are so much more.”
“B-But... I’m a bit older than you. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not at all, I really don’t give a shit noona. If that’s something that really matters to people, then they’re shallow and can’t see past something that’s really not that significant.” He growled right into the shell of your ear, his nimble fingers finding the easiest way to remove your dress. You thanked the heavens that you normally close the blinds when you lock up, because Taehyung made quick work of stripping your clothes from your body.
You slid off the counter to kick off the garments that had pooled around your hips, throwing them away into an unknown corner of your shop. Goosebumps arose across your bare skin, and Taehyung’s seized the soft flesh of your hips, hand kneading and moulding, pulling you flush against his hardened cock. He was so warm, and he let out a strangled groan as you reached down to palm him over his trousers. At your coaxing, his cock only seemed to swell further, impossibly large now and he rocked in your hand for friction. The tug on his foreskin only made him moan more, and you were enjoying the way he let his guard down. His mouth found its way to your bare shoulder, sucking pink marks along your neck and collarbone so he quieted somewhat.
You whimpered when his hands moved down to grab the globes of your ass, groping them and pulling the cheeks apart. Cool air hit your dripping centre and you whined louder, clenching around nothing again. Taehyung relinquished your neck to stand to his full height, smirking at your flushed and needy expression. His eyes trailed down to drink in your naked skin, but he was still fully clothed. Feeling a little exposed, you moved to cover up your bare body. After all, you had a sweet tooth and you did pack a few extra pounds as a result of that. Most of the time you didn’t care, however, in this moment you were particularly caught off guard and feeling a little self conscious.
“Uh uh uh, I don’t think so sweetheart,” Taehyung purred, grabbing your hands that were snaking up your torso. “Don’t you dare hide yourself from me, not when you’re this beautiful.” He hoisted you back up onto the counter hastily, almost knocking over the jars of toppings and chocolate syrups you had left there. His hand snatched the glass bottle that almost fell, and he smirked like the cat that got the cream. “Caught it this time.”
Without warning he dropped the bottle on the bench and swooped down. His mouth closed over your nipple, hot and wet and you moaned at the feeling, hands coming up to bury themselves in his golden curls. Taehyung nipped and swirled his tongue around the peak with a growl that grew louder the harder you pulled on his hair, giving you no warning before switching over to the other one. Lithe fingers snaked up to pinch and twist your spit-slicked nipple, making you squirm underneath him. Now that both aching peaks were being lavished with attention you squirmed, no lover had ever spoiled you this much and it made you all the more eager to touch him too.
Your hands gripped at the lapels on his expensive jacket, uncaring if it would tear as you attempted to push it off his wide shoulders. He laughed softly against your chest as you whined, straightening up to slowly shuck the garment from himself, never taking his eyes off your heaving chest that was shiny from his ministrations. He peeled off his top half, tugging at his dress shirt until each button popped open slowly revealing smooth honey toned skin to your hungry eyes. Your fingertips reached out to smooth over his chest, bringing little goosebumps to the surface. He had such a lovely body, his pecs firm and full, yet the most delicate and defined collarbones you’d seen on a man. Taehyung’s shoulders were broad with a thick, vascular neck you just wanted to sink your teeth into, and to top it all off his jawline was chiseled like a work of art. Your palms trailed higher and you sat up so you could run them over the expanse of his shoulders and upper back. He shuddered at your ever so gentle touch; fingernails raking featherlight down his back, drawing a soft moan from his lips which you swallowed with your own. You dragged your nails over his hips and dipped the tip of your finger into his navel. He flinched at the action, his stomach clenching away. When you ran your palms over his abdomen he broke the kiss abruptly, turning his face to the side. He didn’t have the most defined stomach, yet you didn’t mind one bit.
“Taehyung, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of either,” you pressed a kiss into his jawline. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” you whispered into his skin. Except for Jungkook something in the back of your mind quipped back and a small sense of guilt arose within you. You knew he felt jealous of your interest in Taehyung, but that was something that could be dealt with another time.
The man standing in front of you turned back and pressed his lips to yours again, groaning when your hand slipped past the waistband of his underwear to grip his bare length. It throbbed as you gave it a few experimental strokes, satisfied at the way he let out an animalistic groan. His hand suddenly gripped your thigh, and he smothered you with his form until you had to let go of his length and lay back. His fingertips were likely leaving indents in your flesh but you didn’t care, not when he was so close to where you desired him most. “Please,” you whimpered breathlessly. His fingers parted your thighs, swearing softly when he touched your folds to instantly have his fingertips coated in your arousal. He paused, lifting them up to inspect them unabashed, drawing his fingers apart to look at the strings of slick.
“Fuck. You want me that badly, huh? Such a good girl, so wet and eager for me.” His words made you clench, and he definitely felt it as he lightly ran his fingers through your soaked folds, admiring the way they glistened. Taehyung easily sunk two fingers knuckle deep into your heat, crooking them to seek out that sweet bundle of nerves. Needing to feel his lips on yours again you whined while leaning forward, begging him with your eyes. Quickly he obligated, ever the attentive lover.
After a while your clit was throbbing, crying for his attention. He reached over into one of the jars next to the display cabinet, which you used to touch up any pastries that needed more powdered sugar. A generous amount gathered on the top of his thumb when he dipped it in, and before you could realise what he was doing that same thumb was planted firmly on your pearl of nerves.
“Taehyung! Mmf, oh my god. That feels so good but you’re gonna give me a yeast infection, fuck.”
“Mmm, not if I lick you clean.” He swooped down, tongue lapping at the now gooey sugar that had somewhat dissolved with your wetness. He suckled at your juices, tongue swiping through your folds against his fingers that were still buried before he trailed up to your clit. His lips pulled the little bud into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth, the nibbling teeth causing your hips to jump at the stimulation. God, his tongue felt like heaven and sin all at once, never before had anyone made you feel this good. Certainly, you’d been missing out in all your previous experiences. His hand reached out, grabbing the bottle of chocolate syrup you’d left on the counter, and he looked over to see what other sweet concoction he’d found.
“Mmm, perfect. Open wide sweetheart,” he smirked. Confused, you opened your mouth slightly to which he found most amusing. His fingers withdrew and you whimpered in complaint before your knees were gripped firmly and pushed apart, spreading your legs wide open for him to see. He drizzled a little of the chocolate syrup onto your glistening folds, a few drops sinking into your entrance. The bottle was quickly dropped onto the counter and his tongue was quick to follow the droplets, shoving the appendage deep into your pussy to chase any of the chocolate before it got away from him. “Fucking hell,” he groaned against your cunt, voice muffled. “This is definitely the best thing I have ever tasted in my entire life. I feel like I could die right here.”
With each delve of his muscle you could feel your skin prickling with heat and anticipation or the climax that was beginning to build. Your neglected nub was once again attacked by lashes of his tongue as he pushed his fingers back in, now intent on watching you fall apart. “That’s it petal, good girl. Come for me, that’s it.”
Without mercy he suckled on your clit and your legs shook as that tension began to release, waves of pleasure spreading through your whole body. No noise came forth from your lips for a few seconds, however you quickly broke that silence and cried out loudly with each wave of your high, Taehyung’s fingers still thrusting to draw out your orgasm.
“Please,” you whimpered, looking up at him almost in tears.
“Please what? Use your words,” he growled, already pulling at his belt and letting his pants and underwear fall around his ankles. “What do you need, tell me sweetheart.”
“Need your cock. Please please Taehyung, I want it so bad.” His hand that was soaked with your juices reached down to fist his hardened length, a few drops of precum dripping onto your abdomen. He groaned loudly at the sight, at the way your eyes twinkled in want when you looked at his throbbing appendage. “I want… god I want to suck you off so bad, but I fucking need you. Now.”
The thought of it had him swearing softly, imagining you on your knees before him. He almost came there at the thought of sinking his cock in between your pretty lips, feeling the back of your warm, wet throat constricting him like the perfect girl you were. However, you looked so beautiful spread out across the counter, he’d rather keep you right where you were. Besides, he was so worked up, he really didn’t need your first impression to be of him finishing too early. “Another time, my sweet. Right now I just really need to be inside you.”
To emphasise his point, the head of his cock ran through your glistening folds, the friction on your clit causing your legs to twitch in overstimulation. “Kim Taehyung, if you don’t put your dick in me right n-oh!”
Your sentence turned into a gasp as the tip of his dick pushed at your entrance, and the first inch sunk in with a little resistance from how much your walls tried to clamp down, welcoming the intrusion. He bent down over the top of you, possessively capturing your lips with his as the rest of his length split your walls, sinking in to the hilt. It was like heaven, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered what being stretched by his girthy cock would feel like. As if he couldn’t be any more perfect, of course he had to be so well fucking endowed. It almost hurt how big he was, you noticed as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him. Almost.
Moments passed where both of you simply panted heavily, his face buried into the crook of your neck. “One second, just give me one second or I swear I’m gonna cum. You feel like fucking heaven, noona.” You nodded, incapable of coherent words in that blissful moment.
“Such beautiful tits,” he groaned as his mouth sucked marks across your collar bones, lips seeking out a peak to torment once more. “Tell me, sweet thing. Who’s tits are these?”
“Yours, Tae. Oh god, they’re all yours.” Came your breathy moan, the strands of his honeyed hair tickling your skin as he dragged his face over to the other nipple.
“Good girl,” he quipped. “What about this pussy, hm?” To emphasise his question he slowly pulled his length from where it was buried in your cunt, driving it back in with an even slower thrust that had you keening desperately at the delicious burn.
“Yours, yours! Just fuck me, please!”
“Well, since you’re such a good girl who asked so nicely…” After a second he straightened up, hands gripping your hips tightly as he withdrew only to bury himself in your cunt again, hips smacking into the flesh of your ass from the force of his thrust. Once he could tell you had adjusted comfortably to his size he picked up the speed, beginning a much faster pace, the sound of skin slapping filling the otherwise quiet bakery. You threw your head back over the counter, the slight feeling of blood rushing to your head making the sensations of Taehyung’s cock all the more intense.
Neither of you heard the key opening the door, nor saw the figure that froze in the entry, unable to see anything from outside due to the drawn curtains. Jungkook's eyes were wide much like a deer caught in the headlights, drinking in every inch of your exposed skin. Your heaving breasts looked deliciously perky with the way your head was thrown over the counter, noises he’d only ever dreamed of hearing spilling forth from your parted lips. His shocked expression soured, however, when he realised it was Taehyung standing between your spread legs, his cock plunging into your centre and making your face twist in ecstasy. You hadn’t realised he was there yet, eyes closed and still making little mewls with each of Taehyung’s thrusts, now deep and slow, almost teasing you. The elder looked up and simply smirked once their eyes locked, just who he’d been hoping for. Taehyung was the obvious alpha male, and he could see the way Jungkook’s pants were already straining.
“Mmm, harder... please,” you cried out, ankles locking around Taehyung’s waist so he couldn’t stop what he was doing.
“You want me to fuck you harder, noona? You know ever since the first time I saw you, I’ve fantasized about taking you nice and hard over this quaint little countertop. Have you, noona? Or perhaps you’d been too busy fantasizing about your little assistant, hm? You’d love to have him fuck you like this you dirty girl, isn’t that right? Answer me, or I’ll stop.” He teased, voice becoming a little strained with heavy breaths. His eyes were still locked on Jungkook, mocking the astounded boy.
“Oh god, yes. Fuck yes I’d love to have Kookie fuck his noona like this, oh fu-I think I’m gonna come again Tae.”
“Already? Are you gonna come thinking about Kookie?”
“Yes, hng-ughh Tae, and you! Gonna come, o-oh, because of you!” You cried, each syllable growing in volume the closer you grew to your orgasm.
“Go on noona, show me how much you love my cock,” he permitted, thumb coming back to your clit to pinch and rub the bundle of nerves, pushing you toward your climax. Right as you began to peak, he hooked your legs over his shoulders and began furiously pounding into you. The new angle and pace had you hurtling into a powerful, leg shaking orgasm which made Taehyung curse. You looked so beautiful, and you had a little audience for him to show off to. You were screaming so perfectly, perhaps you secretly knew Jungkook was watching the whole exchange.
When you came down from your high, panting and swearing softly he pressed a kiss to the inside of your leg. “You’re so pretty when you come, my lovely. Don’t you think so, Jungkook?”
Your eyes flew open to see an upside down, very shocked Jungkook. The two of you were at a standstill for a moment, before you quickly tried to sit up and cover yourself. Taehyung’s hand was gently pushing you to lie back down, he suddenly leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Noona, (Y/N) darling. Don’t you want sweet little Kookie to join us? You want to suck him off while I fuck you nicely, hmm?” His words sounded so sweet, and you clenched around him at the very thought. He chuckled, that was just about all the confirmation he needed. However, he waited until you nodded, not going ahead without your clear consent.
When Jungkook saw you nod, he was in complete disbelief. You wanted him? His length throbbed painfully in the confines of his pants, feeling so tight it might almost rip through the fabric. Despite being upside down, you could still clearly see the outline of the colossal bulge.
“Come here,” Taehyung barked, tutting in annoyance when the younger man still seemed to be rooted to the spot, too stunned to move. “Jeon, I suggest you move your ass if you want your dick sucked.” At his words Jungkook snapped out of his stupor, eagerly striding over to stand above you.
The younger man was impatiently undoing the buttons on his pants, pulling them down and grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head, forgoing the buttons altogether. His length sprung forth, already looking angrily red and leaking copious amounts of precum.
The temptation to taste him was too strong, and you stretched your neck to run your tongue along his dripping cock, pressing sloppy kisses, all the while looking up at him with innocent yet sultry eyes. He swore softly at the sight, pulling back to allow your lips to envelop the head of his cock, tongue swirling around his slit to gather the salty drops which kept leaking. He whimpered loudly, finally knowing what it felt like to sink his cock between his noona’s lips. You relaxed your gag reflex, eyes raking up his body. He was definitely a sight to behold, a sheen of sweat already glazing his glorious chest, making his abs - seriously, how did this boy have them - even more drool worthy. Although you were already drooling.
His eyes were glued to your mouth, and the way it easily took his cock with each gentle thrust, he was careful not to make you gag. Although, you had other ideas. Your hands sneaked up, gripping the flesh of his bare behind as you relaxed your throat, feeling his hips jerk as he slid in the rest of the way and bottomed out. He groaned, whole body shuddering in pleasure, unable to stop his hips from jerking forward to chase the euphoria he found between your lips. The rather hard thrust had you choking a little, eyes tearing up but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Jungkook was being so vocal, moaning and cursing so much you were sure anyone outside could hear. When you gagged again, inhaling deeply through your nose he pulled back, giving you a small reprieve and letting you breathe through your mouth. It was at the moment the man standing between your legs, who had been enjoying the show decided it was time to remind you of his presence.
You cried out sharply when Taehyung’s throbbing length buried itself into your sopping heat once again, the movement jolting you and causing Jungkook’s cock to sink back into your throat. He began to swear as both men thrust into you, using your body to get themselves off. Hungrily, like he thought he might never get the opportunity to witness this again, Jungkook’s eyes raked over your soft body. The way your breasts bounced with every thrust, nipples stiff and slick from his elder’s mouth. Then your wonderful thighs, rippling each time Taehyung drove his hips into them. Jungkook always knew you would have such a beautifully soft body, he just wanted to knead you with his hands and run his tongue over every inch, every curve you had. There was so much slick shining on the inside of your thighs, loud squelch noises from each time Tae’s cock pushed into you. He wasn’t going to last much longer, not with the way moaned and swirled your tongue around his length.
After a few minutes Taehyung could feel how you were clamping down on his cock again as it dragged against your sweet spot with each thrust, you were getting close once more. His own pleasure twisted sharply in his abdomen, tightening dangerously quickly. The pad of his thumb pressed down on your clit once more, rubbing furious circles to get you to finish before he did. “One more, I want you to come one more time for me, noona. For us.”
Your climax came to a peak and you squealed, Jungkook’s length popping out of your mouth to make way for the wails of pleasure as your legs shook. You reached out to pump him in your hand, and the sound of your moans as you came was all it took for Jungkook to swear and suddenly he was coming too. You took him back in your mouth quickly, grabbing his hips and pulling him so his cum spurted to the back of your throat.
“Fuck! Oh my-oh fucking hell noona, oh,” he all but yelled, whole body trembling as he climaxed.
Suddenly Taehyung could hold on no longer either, he stilled and you moaned louder as warmth flooded deep inside you as he came, your pussy clenching unconsciously at how good it all felt. Jungkook whined in overstimulation when he pulled out, but your lips drew the top of his cock back into your mouth to suckle at the remains of his salty release, the sensation of your tongue lapping against his frenulum almost too much for him.
He pulled out, your tongue licking your lips to collect any remains as you bathed in post orgasm bliss. Taehyung’s cock softened, slipping out of your swollen pussy as the three of you panted, catching your breath.
Jungkook leaned on the bench, looming over you and he flashed a hopeful smile. The same that made your heart flutter so innocently each morning, the slightest glimmer of potential for something more between you two. However, you’d just sucked him off while another man fucked you.
Now that the hazy headspace had cleared, embarrassment came forth unbridled and you couldn’t stand to be around a moment longer. You slipped off the counter, wobbly legs barely able to support you as you hastily picked up your clothes. It seems that Taehyung had the same idea as he was quickly dressed, buttoning up his shirt and snatching his jacket up off the floor.
“Well…” he began with, looking between the three of you. “Looks like you two have something to talk about. I’d best be going, see you around.” With that, he was out the door. Gone. It brought your memory back to the first time you’d met him, watching him walk out of the door. Things had been so much more simple then, when you weren’t sleeping with two men at once. You didn’t waste another second dwelling in the awkward tension between you and Jungkook as you rushed upstairs without another word.
The next three weeks were awkward to say the least. Conversation was somewhat scarce between both yourself and your assistant, and you feared you’d forever ruined your relationship with him. Jungkook was barely conversing with you, and whenever it was necessary he gave one word answers at best.
It was now that you realised he always used to say things such as let me do it, or I made extra of your favourite. It was in the small things, the everyday gestures that your feelings began to steadily blossom, nothing like the grand and unrealistic romance you so desired. Now Jungkook felt so far away, perhaps he despised you now. All because you had to be stupid and greedy, turning a blind eye to the blessing that was right in front of you all along and pursuing someone you have convinced you were good enough for.
Since that night, Taehyung had not been back to the bakery.
In fact, you had not heard from him at all. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t shed a tear or two over it, after how sweet he’d been in the beginning. The larger part of your conscience, the more irrational part urged you to wait around like a stupid damsel in distress. Hoping that maybe he would walk back in through that door with the little jingle of the bell and make you smile like the idiot you were, pretending nothing had ever gone wrong. But the more rational part wanted to beat that other part to a pulp, it was far more likely that he had been sweet, like honey for one reason. To lure you in like the silly little fly you were, walking right into his web. How many other girls had he been with in three weeks? Was that really his sister, or did he just tell that to women he’s luring in to make them let their guard down? Just like you had.
The sun was shining and the birds were chirping, it was a perfect day, but strangely a little warm. Beads of sweat rolled down your temple, and you wiped them away with the back of your arm as your hands were covered in flour and dough. God, it was unusually warm this morning.
You turned around from your workstation, looking for your rolling pin on one of the other benches. Incidentally your eyes met Jungkook’s and his gaze darted away abruptly, pretending to also look for something. Guilt gnawed at you, knowing that you had caused his embarrassment. After all, you confessed you wanted him in the way he wanted you and then proceeded to mope after Taehyung, not looking at him twice.
You took your anger out on the innocent dough, squashing it angrily between your fingers absent mindedly. You kept muttering see you around in a mocking tone before realizing it was now over kneaded. Great, now you had a suitor on the run, an assistant that was giving you the silent treatment, and your bread would be flat and overly tough. At least your favourite apricot jam would make it taste better, and you couldn’t help craving another serving you mused as you cleaned the sticky dough from your hands.
The delicious smell of the fresh bread wafted from the racks where they rested, and you sought out a tray that had mostly cooled. When you pulled it out, resting the heavy tray on your chest as you normally did, you yelped and dropped it on the bench with a loud bang. The apple that Jungkook had been about to chop skidded across the floor as he dropped it and rushed over to you.
“Noona! Are you alright?! What happened?!”
You gritted your teeth and breathed in through your nose, wincing at how unusually sore your breasts were. Jungkook reached for your cheek, and his hands in your face smelled strongly of apple juice, almost burning your nostrils with its potency. Sudden nausea gripped at your stomach, twisting your insides and making you feel queasy. You pushed past Jungkook and sprinted up the stairs, hearing Jungkook’s heavy footsteps right behind you. You barely reached the bathroom before you fell to your knees, heaving over the toilet bowl to empty your stomach.
“(Y/N)!” A distressed Jungkook cried out from the doorway before crouching down, hands still incredibly gentle as they reached to sweep your hair out of the way. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?!” An answer didn’t make it past your lips however, only more of your breakfast. Jungkook was audibly panicked, but still rubbed comforting circles on your back as you continued to throw up. “That’s it, get it all out,” he murmured.
Your mouth tasted foul and as soon as you stood up you were reaching for your toothbrush. He was glued to your side, picking up a cloth to wipe away at the vomit that was on your chin, still asking a million questions. Embarrassed, you waved him away even though the tender action made your heart squeeze. So he still cared? “I’m fine Kook, I just don’t know why I’m throwing up all of a sudden, I didn’t eat anything that was off…”
He was still insistent on fussing, telling you to go to the doctor if you couldn’t explain your sudden illness. You wondered back into the bedroom, wracking your brain for any inclination as to why it might me, thinking of your symptoms. Your gaze landed on your little clock on your dresser which displayed the date, eyes widening when things began clicking into place. Your period was also a week late, you had sore breasts and morning sickness. You slapped a hand over your mouth muffling the distressed whine that left your lips, words not coming to you at the moment from the shock.
You were pregnant.
Jungkook tentatively touched your shoulder making both of you flinch as the initial shock wore off, and the harsh reality of it came crashing over you. Your eyes flickered to Jungkook’s wide ones, concern evident at the tears brimming in your eyes. “Noona? (Y/N)? What’s wrong? Why... Why are you crying?” God, he was so innocent sometimes, of course he hadn’t caught on yet.
“K-Kook,” you all but whimpered, voice breaking from the way your throat constricted in an attempt to hold back the sobs. “I-... I think I’m pregnant,” came your confession, barely audible, but Jungkook’s ears picked it up well enough. You could barely look him in the eyes, your own watery with tears and you sounded so defeated.
He crushed you to his chest, his arms enveloping your frame in a warm hug, and you never wanted him to let you go. The sobs came forth unbridled now and you buried your face into the crook of his neck, drenching his shirt with your tears.
“Is it really such a bad thing?” He whispered to you between shushes. “Noona, you know I’ll always stick by you, right? No matter what. I’ll be here even if that bastard isn’t,” he murmured and you trembled all the more from his sweet words.
You pulled back so you could look him in the eye, offering a weak and watery smile. “Oh Jungkook, I really don’t deserve you.”
“Nonsense,” he chastised quickly, a warm thumb coming up to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks. “I really like you noona, like a lot.”
“I do too, Kookie. God, I’m so sorry,” you chuckled, pinching his dimple softly before burying your hand in your apron for a handkerchief. “I just thought, you know...you’d want to be with someone a bit closer to your a-”
Your words were cut off when Jungkook covered your mouth and nose with his own handkerchief, wiping away the snot and you had no doubt you looked a complete mess. Blubbering away and confessing your feelings to a younger man, knocked up by another.
“I don’t want to hear that, ever again. Okay? Besides I’ve been fantasizing about calling you my girlfriend for as long as I’ve been working for you. Do you have any idea how happy I am right now? I don’t care about not being the father of this child, as long as I have you by my side I know I can do anything.” He pecked your lips suddenly, prompting a brighter smile from you which warmed his heart to see you no longer upset about everything. You snaked your arm around the top of his shoulders, grinning as he brought your lips back together. You melted into his arms as you deepened the kiss, but he flinched back a bit.
“What? What’s wrong? Did I do someth-”
“No, nothing’s wrong it’s just...your mouth kinda tastes like vomit still. Sorry.” The two of you burst into laughter, a bit of lightness in the otherwise serious situation. You moved back into the bathroom to begin scrubbing your teeth clean while Jungkook, unable to relinquish you from his hands as if you’d disappear if he let go, kept rubbing comforting circles on your hips. He looked deep in thought. “I’ll get a hold of Taehyung, I promise. While I know you probably despise him right now, I think he has a right to know about the baby.”
Silently you nodded, uncertainty and nervousness swirling deep within your stomach. Jungkook was right, you should tell Taehyung but what would his reaction be? Would he be angry? God, he seemed so nice, so genuine. Maybe it really was just some elaborate plan to seduce you, how many other women had fallen prey to his charms you wondered. Perhaps this was not the first time a woman had tracked him down after being knocked u-
“(Y/N)? It’s alright, just don’t dwell on it okay?” His hands trailed up to rub your shoulders, drawing a long sigh from you. “We’ll make an appointment with the doctor first, yeah? Just to be sure. I’ll even come with you.”
You turned and buried your face into the crook of his neck again, so over the moon to have such support. You don’t know what you did to deserve this, to deserve him.
“Do you think people would mind if we opened… a bit late today?” You asked him, fingers creeping up his chest to play with his collar as you looked at him suggestively.
He wrapped his muscular arms around your shoulders, giving you a soft squeeze. You whined at the action, causing your tender breasts to ache. In retaliation you reached down and groped the firm flesh of his behind. Instantly he bucked forward, seeking friction and pushing his quickly hardening length into your abdomen.
“You mean..” he gaped, beaming down at you with an expression so endearing and so excited it made you giddy. Firm hands found his chest, and you guided him back out of the bathroom and pushed him onto the bed, immediately tugging at the buttons on his work pants. His swollen cock sprung out immediately, already rock hard and dripping precum, so eager to finally bury itself in you completely.
He helped you to yank his trousers down quickly, shoes and all getting kicked off in a hurry. You swore you could hear his shirt tearing a little as he ripped it over his head, his hair becoming messed up in his haste Jungkook yanked you into his reach so he could strip you, much like a child at Christmas, uncaring about the poor wrapping paper and eager to get to his present. Fighting him would be useless with the way your eyes drank in his impressive physique.
Once you were completely bare you grabbed his shoulders, clambering on top of him and reaching between the two of you to grab his dick, running the leaking tip through your damp folds. As you sunk down a few inches you had to stop, the stretch from just how fat his cock was leaving you breathless for a moment. Tiny rocks up and down allowed your walls to adjust before you took a breath and bottomed out, Jungkook threw his head back, exposing his deliciously thick neck to your hungry eyes. The urge to mark it was far too strong, and you didn’t hesitate to bend forward to suckle on the skin, little red and purple marks blossoming.
You immediately got to work grinding your hips back and forth, only seeming to drive Jungkook even crazier. After a few minutes he pushed you to sit back up, the need to see your body again too much yet he couldn’t decide where to look. Your breasts swayed in his face with every rock of your body and it was so hard for him to resist bucking his hips upwards. The sight of your pussy lips swallowing every inch of his throbbing cock again and again was truly something to behold, and it felt a thousand times better. Or your beautiful face, contorted in the most blissful expressions, consumed by the pleasure. At a particularly loud moan you let out he thrusted up, grunting at the feeling of you clenching around him.
Jungkook seized your hips, planting his feet on the bed and began pounding his thick length into you without mercy. Caught off guard, you collapsed onto your hands at the sharp spike of pleasure in your belly, your cries muffled as you buried your face into Jungkook’s damp neck. He too smelled heavenly when you were this close, his natural woody musk overloading your senses with each sharp inhale of breath.
He sat up so you were face to face, the position rather intimate, but was quickly bending down to draw one of your nipples into his mouth, nipping softly. “Ah! Be g-gentle, please Kookie. They’re so sensitive right no-ow.”
“Mmm. Can’t wait ‘til they’re all heavy and swollen with milk, I bet you’d taste so sweet noona.” He practically growled, suddenly possessive at the thought.
“Kook! Oh my-oh god, harder. Please please harder baby. You gonna fuck your noona nice and hard?” You begged, running your fingers through the dark, curly locks on his head. Quickly he gripped your waist tighter and flipped you onto your back in an impressive show of strength, quick to re-acquaint you with the delicious stretch as his cock buried itself back inside you and resumed a brutal pace. He was a rather energetic lover it seemed.
“You feel so good noona, oh my god! Fuck I-I’m not gonna last much longer, not when I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“Ugh, it’s okay baby. I’m mfph almost th-there, oh!”
Your arms anchored themselves on his broad shoulders as you jolted from the force of his thrusts, one hand snaking up to thread into the dark hair at the nape of his neck and he whined louder between laboured breaths. Right as he let out a long high pitched moan you felt his whole body tremble, warmth gushing deep in your abdomen as he came. However, Jungkook was ever the soldier and continued on slamming his hips into yours and you finally tipped over the edge. Your walls clenched and fluttered, eyes rolling back into your head. Yet he still continued even as you felt the sticky mess of his cum getting pushed deeper with each thrust, more still filling you. The sounds you were making must have been bothering the neighbours, slapping skin and cries of ecstasy. But neither of you could help it because it had felt like heaven. God, why hadn’t you done this earlier?
When the waves of pleasure finally subsided he dropped onto his forearms, cock going limp and slipping out of your abused pussy.
“Noona.” His chest heaved with his efforts but he couldn’t resist nuzzling into the crook of your now sweaty neck, and your heart clenched with the affection. “That was amazing, so much better than I ever could have imagined. Well...have been imagining.”
“Jungkook, baby,” you breathed, panting heavily. “I’d love to stay like this forever but I’m gonna dirty the sheets, can you grab me a washcloth from the bathroom please?”
He pecked your cheek and sprung up immediately, kicking off his pants that still clung to one leg so they wouldn’t trip him and headed toward the bathroom. Your eyes dropped to his bare behind and you all but drooled, it truly looked so much better without his pants obscuring the view.
“Or,” you began and he paused, turning back to you as you flipped on your side, attempting to strike a seductive pose. Rather it seemed he was the seductor, unknowingly posed like a Roman statue, his body half twisted in a way that accentuated all his best features while gravity accentuated your worst. However, his eyes raked over your figure, insatiable. “How about we just take a shower together? Save some water, hmm-oh Jungkook!” You squealed as he easily hoisted you up bridal style, pecking your lips.
“I think that sounds like a very good idea, shall we?” He asked, carrying you in the direction of the bathroom already sporting another semi.
Three weeks. You were three weeks pregnant, the life inside you so tiny yet had already become such a huge part of your life in just one day. Jungkook was still diligently stuck by your side, and earlier today he’d tried ringing Taehyung’s office to try and speak with him. However, he was told that the elder was not available. All that could be done was to leave a message with his secretary.
You pondered what he might say as the two of you walked arm in arm on your way home from the doctor’s office late in the afternoon. Again, two parts of you rationed with one another. He did just start a new job, perhaps that would explain his absence for almost a month.
Three days, the more rational part of you argued. It was a common rule you’d heard the women gush about over tea in your shop, that no suitor was too busy to contact you at some point in three days. If they didn’t then you simply weren’t a priority for them, not that it mattered anyway. You were loyal to Jungkook now, he was certainly a priority to you.
But there was something about Taehyung, the extent of his genuine nature was incredibly difficult to fabricate. It kept nagging at you in the back of your mind, to just wait, to give him the benefit of the doubt when he finally did come forward. Or maybe you were just being hormonal and making things up to comfort yourself. A distraction was what you needed.
You tipped your head back to breathe in the fresh air. The sky was dusted with a pretty pink and orange colour as the sun set, and you thought would make a nice picture.
“Oh, by the way. I never asked you about the job you got, taking photographs, did you have fun? It is what you came here for after all.” A heavy sigh followed from the man by your side, which definitely caught your attention. “Jungkook? What is it?”
“It was alright, I probably could have enjoyed it more. I just couldn’t help but feel really disappointed the whole time. I wanted to like it more but I just... couldn’t,” he trailed off with yet another deep sigh, his fourth this evening.
“What do you mean? Is it not what you want to do anymore?” You questioned, bringing your other hand to his arm to rub comforting circles. He shook his head, fumbling in his coat pocket for the keys and unlocking the door.
“No, it’s not what I want anymore. As a hobby I think it’s okay, but I’ve completely fallen in love with working here, with baking,” he paused before pushing the door open, turning back to you. “But most importantly, (Y/N). I’ve fallen in love with you. My beautiful noona.”
Your eyes sparkled with tears. “Oh, Jungkook. I-”
“You don’t have to say it back right away. Take all the time you need, I’d wait for you forever.”
He began to head inside but you grabbed his arm firmly, and he looked back at you with a startled expression. “I do, I absolutely do. The feelings, they’ve always been there but I’ve just been afraid to act on them. But... I do love you, more than you know.”
The pure expression of elation that spread across his face made your heart ache, and you just had to kiss it, to kiss him. He let out a little gasp of surprise when you grabbed his cheeks and pulled him to you, pressing your lips together. It was only when you let out a little shiver that he pulled away, ushering you inside and away from the nippy wind.
Now that you were significantly warmer you let out a long yawn, fatigue making your eyelids feel heavy. Jungkook pulled you to him again, pressing a kiss against your hair, the action would never cease to make your heart flutter. “I’ll lock up, you go upstairs to bed noona. I love you,”
“Goodnight Jungkook, I love you too,” you murmured back sleepily with a smile. Reluctantly you slipped out of his warm arms, making the treacherously long haul up to the first floor where your dwelling resided. Once he was sure you’d safely made it up the stairs, he fished around in his pocket for the keys, turning around to lock the door. However, he froze at the figure who stood looming in the doorway.
Taehyung.
You awoke later to the other side of the bed cold and empty, the feeling of a rough tongue licking at your cheek.You stirred with a groan, waiting for the grogginess to subside while you waved your cat away, hearing him pounce onto the floor and out into the kitchen. His demands to be fed grew louder and louder until you simply couldn’t ignore him, and you dragged yourself out of bed to the empty kitchen. Once Jiji’s bowl was filled and he was happily eating you noticed how quiet it was. That’s strange, where was Jungkook?
The clinking of silverware and a light on downstairs caught your attention. You scratched the back of your head in thought as you made your way down into the back room, but when you emerged at the bottom of the stairs you froze.
“Noona!” Jungkook suddenly exclaimed, rushing forth and the loud scrape of the chairs as both men shot up caused you to jump a little. You put our hand out to stop him approaching and he paused, your shock only grew when you noticed Jungkook was sporting a black eye, and he squirmed on the spot while you gawked at him. While you were concerned, you had something - well someone - more important to address. “Um… Taehyung is back… ”
“I noticed, Jungkook,” you gritted, trying to keep a strong front in front of them.
Moisture sprung to your eyes and it made Taehyung’s heart clench, seeing you look so similar to a cornered animal. One wrong move and you would likely bolt back up the stairs. You were frustrated with yourself because you didn’t expect to cry immediately, but seeing the father of your unborn child proved to affect you more than you thought it would.
“(Y/N)... ” He began, taking a small step toward you, his arms reaching out with the urge to comfort you. However, you gave him a dirty look which had Taehyung quickly retracting and not coming any closer. “I know you’re upset… and angry… and confused-”
“Correct,” you quipped.
“But there’s an explanation, I promise,” he pleaded, waiting with baited breath before you crossed your arms and gave a tiny nod heavy with trepidation. “I wanted to come and see you personally the following morning, believe me I truly did. But something happened with my father and the company, I had to go overseas urgently.”
“For almost a month? You couldn’t have at least written to me? A telegram? Even a goddamn smoke signal was too much effort for you?”
“I did! I wrote you a letter and left it here early in the morning before I left, I even put my return address on it so you could write back to me while I was away. I was waiting to hear from you, and the whole time I thought you’d gotten my letter and didn’t want to see me anymore, because of Jungkook.”
A tiny twinge of guilt arose within you, your gut instinct had been right. He had tried to do the right thing. “I’m sorry Taehyung, I didn’t get any letter from you.” You truly were apologetic, a part of you now wished that things had played out differently and you’d given him a chance. But you couldn’t change the past now, and Jungkook was rooted firmly in your heart. Besides, if you had to choose between the two, you’re sure you would never be able to come to a decision.
“I apologise for leaving so quickly that day, but I needed some time to think as it wasn’t just the two of us anymore. A third party had become...involved. But before I could see you in person again I had to go. Hopefully you’ll accept this,” he trailed off, gesturing to a small box on the table. Gingerly you slipped past him to pick it up, gasping when a small glass flower was inside. “When I was in Paris, I saw this in a shop window and immediately thought of you and the first time we met. Finally I got you a flower that won’t wither away and die.”
“Taehyung...it’s lovely, but I don’t really think it’s appropriate for me to accept gifts like this from you anymore. I love Jungkook now. Any contribution from you from now on should be for the b-” You stopped your words suddenly, did Jungkook tell him yet?
“The baby? My...baby. Yes. Jungkook told me.” His eyes flickered down to your stomach. “Oh (Y/N), I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’ll support you one hundred percent, I should have been more careful.”
“Well… we should have been more careful. But you’re not mad?” You questioned, chewing on your lip nervously.
“What?! Why would I be mad at you? I… God I just want to touch your stomach so bad. Can I? Please?” He practically begged, and you felt a laugh bubble up against your will. You’d never seen him pout before. Gently you grabbed his hand, guiding his large palm against the flat of your abdomen and unintentionally pulling him closer. At his proximity your heart rate picked up, old feelings stirring at the warm cinnamon you could smell on him. No, you couldn’t think of him that way anymore.
You diverted your gaze, instead making eye contact with your lover Jungkook while Taehyung rubbed soft circles on your stomach. Things would be… unconventional from now on, to say the least.
“I just...don’t want to miss out on this,” Taehyung whispered. “Watching your belly grow, feeling the little kicks. I don’t have a child yet, and I’ve always been so excited to be a father. But it’s a shame things turned out this way…”
“Which is why we wanted to talk to you (Y/N).” Jungkook suddenly piped up, having been unusually quiet and relaxed this whole time. “Hyung… I mean Taehyung and I have been speaking all night.”
“I got the message from him and came to see you as soon as I got back, only to watch you kiss him instead. I must admit I was incredibly jealous and originally I planned on talking calmly, but that’s not quite what happened. We started fighting, and then we started... kissing.” He admitted, looking slightly abashed. You, however, were utterly shocked and kept looking between the two trying to imagine such a thing.
“Wait...what?! You two kissed? Each other?”
“Well, yes and then it escalated.” Taehyung murmured with a smirk, peering over to Jungkook. He looked nervous, his hand coming up to touch the back of his neck. That’s when you saw it, many more marks peeking out from under his collar than what you’d left on him. “One thing turned into another and, we ended up having sex. Your table is wobbly now, sorry about that, but this kid’s stamina is no joke.”
Your jaw almost hit the ground, a whole mix of different emotions hitting you. The first being sorrow and betrayal, tears once more beginning to well in your eyes. But you quickly felt yourself growing angry, after all your partner had technically cheated on you with another man.
“Jeon Jungkook, you treacherous whore,” you snarled, rubbing your temples at the headache this confusion was bringing you. “I just have one question...why? I thought you two hated one another.”
“We just couldn’t see past the jealousy we both had over you. But once we actually started getting to know one another a bit more, we actually realised we have a lot in common and are willing to explore that further.” Jungkook explained. “I think the three of us could make it work, that way everyone is happy.”
“You mean… we’d all be together? You’re both okay with that? You actually like each other?” You questioned, to which they smiled and nodded. On the one hand, you would get to have what you’d secretly desired which was both men at the same time. The idea had your heart skipping a beat with excitement, thinking about all the sweet words they’d say, and soft mornings you’d share. How well you’d be taken care of, in many ways. But what if things didn’t work out? What if they grew too jealous and the relationship deteriorated? Apprehension weighed heavily in the air. However, if you never even gave it a shot you would never know what could have been.
“Noona? Do you need more time to think about it?” Taehyung asked gently. Did you? You looked up at both of them, their soft gazes making you feel like the most treasured woman in the world. Ever so subtly their hands brushed together, fingers intertwining. Something in your gut told you this was the right thing to do, and you reached up to take a hand in one of theirs.
“I’m willing to try.” You told them, biting your lip to soften the huge grin.
“Really?!” They both exclaimed in unison, eyes wide and you were suddenly tugged into their embrace. Uncontrollable giggles consumed you, and you pecked each of them on the lips.
“I have a feeling the three of us will go together like sugar, spice and everything nice.”
It was still rather early in the morning, the sun only very faintly peeking through the curtains in your bedroom window. Still, your body was beginning to make its demands known no matter what time it may be. Jungkook was warm against your back, his arm slung over your waist, and you couldn’t stop the way you squirmed and panted softly. God, you had woken up so aroused it was almost painful. At your excessive movement he pulled you tighter to him, and you gasped at the feeling of his morning erection pressing against the soft flesh of your behind. He grumbled something unintelligible into your neck but you didn’t care, you needed him right now.
“Jungkook,” you whined, turning to face him a little more. “Please baby, please.”
“Oh?” He definitely heard you loud and clear as he raised his head, but before he could even say more you threw your leg over his hip and began grinding your sopping apex against his clothed length. The angle was awkward but you didn’t care as it provided some well needed friction.
Immediately his hands gripped at your swollen breasts, fingers pinching your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of your nightgown, and you cried out from the sudden pleasure. “God,” he growled in your ear. “You need me that much, huh? Can’t even wait until Tae gets here?”
“No, I can’t wait. I need you right fucking now Kookie, please.” There was desperation in your tone now, and you sounded like you were on the verge of tears.
“Alright noona, of course. You know I could never say no to you,” he whispered into your cheek, pressing a soft kiss there. His hands travelled further down your body, smoothing over your swollen tummy like he always loved doing. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, aren’t you? So desperate for me, begging to be stuffed full of cock. I can’t wait until I can fill you up with my cum and get you nice and pregnant again, with my baby.”
You rolled over onto your knees, propping your weight on your forearms. Jungkook groaned at the sight it presented him with as your gown slipped down your back, your weeping cunt glistening with your arousal, so engorged and throbbing with your pregnancy. He shot up, coming to kneel behind you so he could get a closer look. Jungkook ran his thumb through your folds, cock aching at the way you clenched and whined. There was so much slick, he couldn’t believe how wet you were, a little leaking down and dripping onto the bed from his ministrations. You became pliant, pushing back against his fingers as far as your stomach would allow, desperately wanting him to bury them into you, anything to ease that empty feeling.
“Careful sweetheart, gotta make sure you and bub are okay first,” he murmured into your ear, hands smoothing over your stomach again as he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Let’s take this off.”
His hands bundled up the bottom of your night dress, patiently waiting until you lifted each knee off the bed so it wasn’t caught and gently peeled it from your panting form. The cool morning air nipped at your exposed skin, every inch of you flushed hot. You leaned back, Jungkook’s chest plastered to you, your puffy nipples hardening quickly when Jungkook pinched them between his fingers. Milky droplets began beading and dripping down your front, drawing a long moan at the sensitivity of them.
“You’re so amazing, oh my god. Do you have any idea how often I’ve imagined you like this? So perfectly swollen and pregnant, so incredibly fertile. Breasts so soft and brimming with milk. You’re such a good girl for Hyung and I, you’re gonna let us fill you up again and again aren’t you?” He continued his groping while whispering filthy things in your ear, you were so worked up it was almost painful.
“I-If you keep doing that, uhh fuck Kookie, baby. I think I might come, oh.” At your whining he gave an extra hard pinch, and little droplets of white sprinkled across the bed sheets, some dripping down your chest onto your stomach. He relented for a second to tear off his pajamas in record time, giving you barely a second’s warning before the hardness of his scalding cock was sliding into the cleft of your asscheeks, a moan breaking out from him at how soaked it got. With one hand your fingers twisted in the bedsheets, the other trying to reach behind and line him up. However, he chuckled and gripped your wrist to stop you. So close yet so far, and you began muttering a sting of incoherent and almost hysterical gibberish, undecipherable other than the occasional please. Given how wet you were he easily sunk in, and it made the stretch of his girth a little more tolerable as he bottomed out with a curse. His teeth bit softly into the flesh of your bare shoulder and you whimpered loudly as he drew back to sink straight back in at a torturously slow pace, always giving you a few seconds to accommodate his thickness. The teasing was driving you near insane, but thankfully he had such a fat cock it still felt incredible. He was always so gentle to begin with, treating you as if you were fragile. However, as he said before he could never say no to you. Once you really whined and whimpered for him to go harder, boy did he give it to you.
He adjusted his hands on your soft hips, gripping them tighter so he could tug you back onto his length as he began slamming into you. Loud slaps filled the room as his pace quickened, pounding eagerly from behind and you wailed, this angle always making him feel so much deeper than usual. “You just get more beautiful everyday, ugh,” Jungkook huffed in your ear, voice strained from the feeling of your velvet walls gripping him eagerly.
Your softness dug into his hip bones as his thrusts grew more powerful, his incredible thighs flexing with the brutal pace he set. Pleasure twisted in your abdomen acutely, the pressure building up easily with your swollen belly. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come already. You feel so good baby, oh!”
At your words he used his impressive strength to pull you against him even more, the angle had his cock rubbing against that special spot and your high hit you harder than it ever had. You reached up and behind you to anchor your hands on his thick, vascular neck, sweaty skin sticking slightly. Your thighs trembled right as you began to peak, and just as the door swung open and you locked gazes with Taehyung. You felt a delicious pressure release in your abdomen as you gushed with a broken shriek, clear fluid squirting all over the tangled bedsheets. He watched you with eyes blown out wide, grip on the doorknob so tight it almost broke and you couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled back into your head. Each jolt caused your ever growing breasts to sway, and the way your hands were above your head only accentuated all your lovely curves which he happily consumed with his gaze.
Jungkook let out a few loud, high pitched moans as he released inside you, the warmth making you shudder as you began coming down from your orgasm. A warm, sweaty forehead pressed against your back as you both panted from the effort, Jungkook’s hands steadying you as you lay down onto your side. The shortness of breath was really beginning to kick in now that you were almost five months pregnant. Wordlessly you reached out for Taehyung, making grabby hands at him as he set his things down and shut the door.
“Good morning princess.” He stalked over to the bed, eyes raking over your glistening body, also flicking back to take in Jungkook who had flopped back against the pillows. “Do you want more? Does daddy get a turn?” He leant down and whispered in your ear as he pressed kisses all along your cheek. You whined and nodded yes, immediately seeking out his lips with your own. God, you just came but you were always ready and wanted to feel both of your lovers, so insatiable these days.
“Good morning my sweet,” he murmured, bed dipping under Taehyung’s weight as he joined you. His fingers ran through Jungkook’s dark curls, and he bent down to capture his other lover’s mouth in a sweet kiss, the younger tugged Taehyung toward him and eagerly began pulling at his clothes.
While the two of them locked lips and stripped you scooted up and flopped onto your back, skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat and legs wide open to accommodate your ever growing stomach. Both men’s gaze immediately fell to your core, looking so pretty with Jungkook’s cum slowly dripping out. Taehyung couldn’t resist, he shifted toward you, dropped to his stomach and pushed your legs further apart. “Look at you, such a messy girl. Daddy should clean you up, hm?” You bit your finger coyly, head clouded with lust as you nodded. Taehyung took another few seconds to stare at your engorged centre, his breath fanning against your wetness causing you to squirm before he quickly dipped down to run his tongue through your folds, groaning at the mixture of sweet and salty taste. He lapped up the juices, tongue seeking out your clit and drawing it into his mouth ripping an almost scream from you from finally getting stimulation on your sensitive, blood fattened nub.
Taehyung started to moan louder, and you lifted your head up until you were almost sitting - you had to otherwise you wouldn’t be able to see past your growing stomach - only to find Taehyung still had his head buried between your legs. However, Jungkook had his own agenda, and his teeth nibbled at one of Taehyung’s buttcheeks before his tongue dipped down between them. One hand snuck down underneath Taehyung’s hips to stroke at his cock which he had previously been grinding against the sheets.
You’d quickly learned that Jungkook had a bit of an oral fixation, he was obsessed with leaving hickies wherever he could. More than once the two of you would be working early in the morning, then the next thing Jungkook would haul you up onto the unoccupied part of the workbench and eat you out. You had to have a door installed that separated the back workroom from the shop because of his high libido, though as he grew more explorative you’d also have to scold him about food safety.
The elder sat back on his knees, a hand coming to sink two fingers into your sopping apex. His thumb rubbed circles against your engorged clit, and with each thrust of his wrist he pushed out some of the thick white mixture. Now that he was sat up, Jungkook crawled up and laid on his side, coming to lap at the drops of precum on his erect length. The elder pulled his hand from between your legs and popped them into his mouth, a soft groan accompanying the taste he so adored, the cum of both his lovers combined.
“Kookie? Can you go again, baby?” Taehyung asked, his other hand gently threaded into his hair to ease him off his member. Jungkook nodded eagerly, pumping his own cock in his hand, already hard again. The stamina that boy had frightened you, once you were ready for another baby he��d have you pregnant again in no time. Taehyung motioned for him to lay on his back, and gently guided you over to where Jungkook was propped up with his head resting against the pillows. You turned around and straddled his hips with your back to him and he sat up a bit to steady you.
“Are you okay to keep going? You’re not too tired?” Jungkook whispered in your ear, to which you quickly nodded. No matter how tired you were, you rarely turned down sex with your two lovers. However, on the odd occasion that you did want to rest instead they had no qualms, as they happily indulged in their own intercourse often. The sudden need to twist around and kiss him overcame you and you whined softly, seeking out his lips. They were both so sweet and attentive, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
“Kook?” You murmured. He hummed in response, a warm palm soothing on your arm. “I love you, so so much.”
He couldn’t suppress the grin that broke out across his face no matter how hard he tried, because he was so undeniably happy. “My (Y/N), I love you so much, more than you could imagine.” He leaned forward to peck your lips again before an insistent tap on your thigh brought your attention back to Taehyung.
“Don’t worry,” you whispered, already pouting at him for a kiss as well. “I haven’t forgotten about you. I love you too, Taehyung.” At your words he seemed to melt a little, his lips brushing against yours over and over in soft little pecks.
“I love you too, petal. All of you.” He touched your stomach gently, also looking back at Jungkook behind you. The hand that was just on your tummy came up to cup your cheek, however, you’d grown quite impatient and turned your head to draw two of his fingers into your mouth.
“That’s it, such a good girl,” he hummed, smiling as you suckled while looking up at him with wide eyes. The sweet tone turned to a growl as you dropped his hand only to bend down, now practically on your hands and knees, and licked a stripe up his fat, throbbing length. The taste of his salty precum had you keening, popping the tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the head. You lapped at his frenulum, occasionally running your tongue across the slit to catch the droplets as they continued to bead.
Jungkook behind you kneaded your soft rump, pulling the cheeks apart and running his tongue from your clit up to your tight hole. Your excessive juices mixed with his cum made for a perfect lubricant as he lapped at your rim, his thumb coming to spread the slick around it and you clenched at the threat of intrusion. He watched in fascination as you clenched again, lightly pressing on it to test the resistance. Given how wet you were the digit sunk in easily, and you immediately clamped down. Taehyung growled as he felt the vibrations of your moan on his cock, his hand threading into your hair softly. Jungkook worked his thumb in and out of your ass, giving your muscles time to slowly relax. A thrum of excitement rushed through you as he pulled the digit out, only to slick up two more fingers and ease them in carefully. You always got a bit more worked up when you knew you were going to have both men at once, it felt incredible being so full of them.
“God noona, you’re taking my fingers so well. You love getting your tight little asshole played with, don’t you? Such a good girl.” Jungkook hissed, scissoring the digits until he could work in a third finger. You pulled your lips from Taehyung’s cock with a pop sound, the pleasure was so overwhelming, especially when Jungkook’s thumb came to rub circles on your clit.
“Are you close again, princess?” Taehyung asked, stroking your hair. You nodded furiously, pushing back to try and get the younger’s fingers probing deeper.
“U-Ugh! Daddy, Kookie! I’m com-oh!” you didn’t even finish your sentence before your orgasm washed over you, toes curling and skin tingling with the euphoric feeling. Jungkook’s fingers continued to rub against your sensitive walls, the completely unique feeling causing you to clench even harder. When your cries subsided you slumped back a little and Jungkook withdrew his hand. “Please,” you whimpered, pouting and looking between both your lovers.
“Please what, my love? Use your words.” Taehyung ordered.
“Want more, want you both.”
“Oh? Is one cock filling you up not enough for you? Greedy girl,” he tutted. “Can you sit back for me? Want Jungkookie to fuck your ass while I have your pussy?”
Your empty orifices clench at his words, wanting so desperately to be filled and to feel the push and pull of both their lengths fucking you. Eagerly you nodded, reaching down to touch your clit again but Taehyung’s hand grabbed your wrist.
“Did I say you could do that, hm?” He growled, tugging your hand away. Your eyes widened at his commanding tone, shaking your head slowly. “What did I just tell you to do?”
“Sit on Jungkookie’s cock, daddy.”
“Exactly, go on then,” Taehyung growled, the softness of his hands as he helped you move back contradicting his tone. You hovered over Jungkook's length, the tip pressing against the seam of your ass. A faint gasp escaped you as he ran the head of his cock through your folds to soak it in the wetness dripping from you, before moving back to line himself up. Ever so gently he pressed the tip against your asshole, applying a soft pressure, coaxing the muscles of your rim to loosen.
Gradually your ass relaxed to grant him entrance, the head of his cock slipped in aided by your excessive slick. Once he pushed past that initial resistance the rest of his silken length sunk in easily, creating a delicious stretch and you moaned. Taehyung drank in the whole image, watching the younger's cock bottom out as his hips met the flesh of your behind and you sat fully impaled on his length.
Your pussy fluttered and clenched rhythmically, more droplets of your nectar running down to coat Jungkook’s heavy balls. The feeling had him crying out with a choked whimper, you were so tight and warm and he was so sensitive from only just coming.
Gently you rested back against his chest, Jungkook’s torso propped up safely by your pillows and your legs flopped open wider, beckoning Taehyung forward. The elder man sauntered over to you both, his precum dribbled down to join the mess between your thighs as he drew closer, rubbing the tip of his cock through your soaked folds.
You squirmed, unconsciously opening your legs wider for Taehyung to swear softly at the view he was blessed with.
“Daddy, please. Want you too,” you whined, pleading with your eyes as well. You continued shifting and grinding, making Jungkook’s grip on your hips brutally tight. He might leave a few bruises on your soft flesh but he couldn't help it, not when you felt so good. Besides, he would kiss it better later.
“Hyung-” He grunted, not able to get anything else out as he felt Taehyung’s fat cock push into your empty cunt, the thickness still stretching you despite how wet you were. In one smooth, slow stroke he bottomed out and a choked cry was torn from your lips at how full you were, already teetering on the edge and so close to tipping over. In a desperate lust filled haze your hand shot down to rub at your clit furiously, jolts of pleasure still shooting through your abdomen even though both men weren’t moving.
Instead of stopping you this time, Taehyung watched on with a smirk as you rocked yourself back and forth slightly, so desperate for release. He withdrew his cock slightly from your walls and you cried out in displeasure, pussy trying so hard to suck him back in. However, not a second later he plunged back in to the hilt slowly, right as Jungkook pulled out only to fuck back into you. The room filled with your loud cries, nothing got you to moan quite as loud as when you were stuffed full with two cocks, and not to mention the grunts and groans from both men as they picked up a rhythm, one thrusting in right as the other pulled out.
Taehyung’s eyes glazed over as he watched his length bury into your sopping, swollen folds over and over with each thrust. The sight made him harden further, heavy balls smacking against Jungkook’s length occasionally where it sunk into your slippery ass. It didn’t take long for your next climax to come, the only warning you gave them was a broken whimper of, “hgn, c-oming!” before your legs were trembling, a little sprinkle of clear fluid gushing forth as your eyes rolled back.
“Fuck-,” Taehyung grunted, quickly circling your clit to help you ride out your orgasm as he looked at the wet sheen covering his abdomen. “This is new. Does having your tummy nice and swollen make you squirt, sweetheart?”
All you could manage was to nod furiously, hips still being jolted from each push and pull. Suddenly the urge to shift positions came forth and you pushed on Taehyung’s chest gently, still trying to find the words after your powerful orgasm that left you feeling like jelly.
He slowed his pace, an expression of alarm appeared across his features and he gripped your hand. “What is it my love? Did we do something wrong? Are you hurt?”
“N-No, I just. Can I go on top please?” You breathed out, fatigue beginning to take its toll. He visibly relaxed, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple.
“Of course.” He eased out gently causing you to wince at the sudden empty feeling when Jungkook did the same a moment later. Your hand gripped Tae’s wrist, tugging him softly so that he turned and flopped on his back on the bed and you swung a leg over to straddle his hips, two sets of hands touching you gently, always prepared to steady you. Taehyung’s fingertips trailed up from your hips, coming to cradle the small swell of your abdomen. The tender moment had you pausing, before you leaned down to kiss the grin off his lips.
You reached down to grip his length, lining him up before you sunk down on him. A content sigh left you at being reacquainted with the feeling you’d come to love and crave. The younger eagerly jumped up to close in behind you once again, his large hands groped the flesh of your ass, parting your cheeks to look at your twitching asshole. He was quick to ease himself back in as well, the elder giving him a moment to adjust before they picked up the pace, and from the way they were both moaning you could tell they were getting closer. You were glad as you were definitely getting tired during the rigorous fucking sessions these two always put you through.
Jungkook’s strength astounded you, he was practically picking you up and pulling you back back onto his length, doing most of the work while Taehyung fucked up into you with practiced ease. It was more frantic now, all three of you driving towards that blissful finish as you often did to start off the morning, although you’d be having an extra long sleep in for sure after this.
Your swollen breasts were now perfectly in Taehyung's face, bouncing with each thrust and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to draw one of your puffy nipples into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Your moans grew louder at the sensation, not to mention the way his chest began glistening as droplets landed there from the other peak. Not in a million years would you grow tired of seeing one of them latch onto your chest and suckle on the sensitive nubs, particularly now that you were pregnant and lactating. It just made them far more keen, the hormonal men brimming with spunk always ready to fuck their cum into you in whatever hole they could, showering you in praise after for being so good and fertile for them. Jungkook particularly would stare at your belly, definitely daydreaming about you pregnant with his child next. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind too much that you didn’t have his baby growing inside you, it only antagonised him and gave him cause to try and outdo his hyung. It was a blessing you had such high libido or this relationship certainly wouldn’t have worked out so well, but the three of you had somehow achieved harmony.
“I-ugh, hyung! I’m gonna, uhhhh, gonna come!” Kookie cried.
“You can come Jungkookie,” Taehyung growled, his own words strained as his high approached. Jungkook was the one to peak first, pushing his thick cock into the hilt, stilling slightly as the warmth of his cum flooded your ass and he let out a string of high pitched moans. You were next, thanks to Taehyung furiously slamming into your swollen, sensitive cunt. As soon as you gripped him tightly in the throes of your ecstasy, he finally came as well, filling up your pussy with his warm, thick seed.
You collapsed forward onto his chest, panting hard and he pressed a kiss into your hair. “You’re always such a good girl for us, isn’t she Kookie?”
The three of you were dazed in your sweaty, post orgasm bliss, soaking up the sweet moment. The younger man hummed in agreement and parted your cheeks, staring at the copious amount of cum oozing from your spent orifices. You were sore but satiated, happily soaking up the tender moment until Jungkook exclaimed,
“Now that is the best creampie I’ve ever made!”
➻ A/N: This fic took me six months to write...so I would really appreciate a little bit of feedback!
Part Two: & Everything Nice coming soon!
#taekook x reader#taekook fanfic#bts fan fiction#bts smut#jungkook smut#taehyung smut#bts imagine#bts x reader#jungkook imagine#taehyung imagine#bts fan fic
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Honeydew (Marcus Pike/Moreno x OC) | Chapter 1
Summary: Erin He moves to DC after working for the FBI in Texas and runs into a hero in disguise; Marcus Moreno. Something about him is familiar, too familiar, yet different in a way that she can’t quite place. Although confused, she can’t deny her feelings for him; perhaps, after years of regret, she finally found the one.
Warnings: food/drink mention
Ao3
Honeydew masterlist
Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.
Author’s Note: I’m so excited for you all to read this story! Special thanks go to Lynn (@mindless--ramblings) for always being so supportive and helping me stay inspired! Ever since I found out Pedro now has two characters named Marcus, I’ve wondered about ways I could connect them in one piece of writing. And this? This is that piece of writing. Moreno won’t be making an appearance in this one, but I hope Pike will make up for that 😉 Enjoy!
Ground floor.
First floor.
Second.
Erin He took a deep breath, thankful that the elevator was empty. She straightened the collar of her shirt as the fourth floor approached. At her side was her government-issued laptop, which she’d picked up from the front desk. Her fingers gripped its edges tightly. This was it. She made it.
The elevator let out a soft ding and opened its doors, revealing a floor of cubicles and conference rooms. Austin sunlight filtered through large windows, illuminating the space alongside the bright fluorescent lights.
She stepped out, searching for the art theft department’s main office. As much as she understood the need for technology specialists across all the FBI’s branches, she never quite grasped why she was placed in the art theft department, of all places. She always thought she’d be in the operational technologies department, developing and maintaining tools for others to use. Though she couldn’t blame them; intellectual property was highly valued and often stolen.
The email said to report to the department supervisor’s office for a quick onboarding, but they didn’t exactly mention what it would be. It could’ve been anything from a quick handshake to being told to shadow a coworker. Hopefully the former.
Part of her begged to the gods of computer science that she wouldn’t be assigned to yet another condescending old white man. Her last welcome at a company had been less than mediocre, and lukewarm at best.
The other part of her nagged that she’d signed up for exactly that.
“Ah, there you are. Welcome to your first day, Special Agent He,” the department supervisor–Harold Strauss–greeted as she entered his office. He gestured to the man standing in front of his desk. “This is Agent Marcus Pike. He will be showing you the ropes today.”
Agent Pike looked at her over his shoulder, the corners of his lips curling in a friendly smile. He couldn’t have been much older than her, with his faint smile lines and soft brown hair. He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned around to face her.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied. She shook his hand and then extended her hand to Pike. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for taking time out of your day to show me around.”
“Likewise,” he replied, shaking her hand. His brown eyes sparkled as he proposed, “Should we start? I have a meeting in about half an hour, and I’m sure you’ll want to meet some of our operational techs and digital forensics team. They’re the backbone of everything we do here.”
They acknowledged their supervisor once more and then left to begin the tour.
As her personal guide gave her the rundown of the floor’s organization and workflow, Erin couldn’t help but sneak a couple more glances at him.
He was taller than her by a few inches, but not in such a way that she felt like shrinking into herself. And he always stayed at her side, never walking ahead or lagging behind. His strong jaw led her gaze to a pair of soft lips, which seemed to be in a perpetual smile as he talked about the breakthroughs the department had in the past days.
“Do you know where your desk is?” Pike asked.
“Yeah, they told me the other day,” she answered, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ears. They walked over to her assigned desk, which was barren save for a standard computer, box of pens, and notepad. “If you’re going to ask if I need help with setup, I think I should be alright for now. Nothing a few installations and linux commands can’t fix.”
He chuckled softly and nodded. “You’re living up to your title, Agent He. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I could’ve been much help even if I offered. Have you done work similar to this before?”
She shrugged. “I worked in cybersecurity and software development,” Erin replied, setting down her bag and laptop on her desk. Slipping off her black blazer, she continued, “But I figured I should do something more than just build products for tech companies. Use my skills to aid in investigations.”
He nodded in understanding. “I see what you mean. Actually, I was originally studying to be an art history professor. But then I found this job and figured I could use my knowledge to help find and preserve artworks.”
Hm, noble.
“Sounds like we aren’t so different,” she observed, following him across the officespace. “Let’s hope that I can be of help around here.”
He chuckled softly, the dimple in his cheek showing as he smiled. “I think you’ll fit right in.”
---
The words on the screen blurred into the white background of the screen, as if they were mocking her. Each line of test slowly lost its meaning, turning into mind-numbing strings.
Erin pushed her computer away and rubbed her eyes defeatedly, sighing. The department was launching an investigation regarding a museum that was broken into and wiped clean. What little data was left on the computers, from what she gathered after hours of poring over them, was largely useless. Hopefully, one of the other agents would find something helpful in the other remnants. Perhaps an address, or some sort of signature that could be traced to a group. Her, on the other hand? She just wasted hours of work.
A steaming cup of coffee was set down onto her desk, along with some sugar and tiny cups of cream.
She looked up to find Marcus–Pike, she reminded herself–standing at her side, looking down at her with a soft smile. “Find anything?”
“Nope,” she sighed. It turned out that Pike was one of the best agents in the department, and that meant he spent most of his time leading and organizing investigations. What that meant for Erin, then, was that she had to answer to him. Thankfully, he was never weird about it. Quite the opposite, actually. Tapping the side of the cup, she asked, “Is this for me?”
He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah! Sorry; I would’ve fixed it, but I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee.”
“Well it’s nothing complex, if that’s what you’re nervous about,” she teased. Two sugars and a drizzle of cream turned the pitch black liquid into a deep brown. She took a sip, the placebo of caffeine already kicking in. “When you’re in STEM, you learn to appreciate caffeine in any form. But I like it like this.”
“Noted,” he said, his voice a soft timbre amongst the flutter of papers and clacking of keys. Hands resting on his hips he asked, “How long do you think it’ll be before you find anything?”
“Anywhere from an hour to another three...or five,” she sighed, lazily scrolling down the file. Basking in the steam from her cup, she continued, “I’m gonna need a lot more of this coffee. There has to be something useful in this file, I just need to find it. I might need to cross-reference with some of the other evidence to notice anything.”
A headache was already descending upon her, and she was only six hours in. Weak–she’d stared at a computer much longer without any problem many times before. Why, of all times, did it have to happen when she was talking to her coworker?
“Well, I’ll be here pretty late tonight, so if you need anything, just let me know,” he replied, patting her shoulder. The crease between his brows deepened as he squinted down at the screen. “Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes on it. Take a break, Erin.” At her responding pout, he reasoned, “It’s been almost a month and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you rest.”
Of course he noticed her breaks, or lack thereof. She rolled her eyes, hiding a bashful smile in her cup. “I work best in sprints.”
He hummed amusedly. “But even sprinters need breaks, don’t they?” Then, his eyes lit up. “Actually, why don’t you take a break now?”
Erin raised a brow. “Am I not taking a break right now?”
His laugh was warm. “I mean a real break. Let’s get lunch; my treat.”
“Are you really going to make me choose between food and digital forensics, Agent Pike?”
Nodding definitively, he replied, “Yes, Agent He.”
Unable to resist the prospect of free lunch, she gave in and followed him out to his car. The work would still be there when she returned. For the moment, she could just enjoy Marcus’s companionship.
He drove out to a local diner about ten minutes away, his turns confident as if he’d gone there hundreds of times before. Judging by the way his eyes had sparked with joy at her agreement, he probably had.
They let their shoulders relax in the serenity of the car, shedding the formalities and passing time as if they were close friends.
The diner was small and cozy, booths worn with age and serving breakfast all day. Erin’s lips curled up in a little smile as the hostess recognized Marcus. So he was a regular, after all.
They sat down across from each other in a booth. Erin shrugged off her navy blue blazer and smoothed her dark hair back into a thick ponytail.
As she fixed her hair, Marcus gave her his recommendations, leaning in with the menu so she could follow along with her eyes. He seemed particularly fond of the pancakes, so she decided on those. Surely he wouldn’t lead her astray.
And with the way his voice rasped just slightly, she could listen to him speak for a whole day.
“Honey? Did you hear anything I said?” he asked, tilting his head slightly with a little smirk.
Erin snapped out of her reverie, cheeks burning. “Oh, um. Yeah. Sorry, I spaced out for a bit.”
“No worries, it happens to all of us,” he reassured, laying the menu flat on the table. “What were you thinking about?”
Less than an hour had passed before they were back in the office, stepping out of the elevator with full bellies. The familiar clicking from computers and buzz of conversations filled the air, and they were officially agents again.
Erin turned to him and nudged his arm. “Hey, thanks for the break.”
“Anytime,” he replied, walking with her along the perimeter of the room. They stopped at the hallway leading to the conference rooms and offices. His large hand moved to rest on her arm, his thumb rubbing gently. “I guess this is my stop. You know where to find me.”
“And you know where I’ll be.”
The next day, Marcus was greeted in his office by tupperwares containing homemade fried rice, some cut up fruit, and a sticky note.
Thanks for sticking with me yesterday. -E
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he tried to refrain from grinning like a maniac, though he was sure anyone who happened to pass by would’ve thought he looked like a schoolgirl with a crush. Erin’s handwriting was soft and curved, so similar to calligraphy but simple in a way that made the note feel that much more intimate.
She had an interesting way of showing her care for others, he found. Perhaps it was a byproduct of the work she dedicated her life to; she seemed to always be one step ahead, ready to pull out small details that others would dismiss. He wondered what she might know of him.
There were a few things she clearly knew; things that surprised him every day. Just as he’d learned her usual coffee order, she’d learned his. When he’d walk in every morning, her head of dark hair would tilt to peek over her cubicle, as if she could sense his presence. And when their eyes would meet, her smile was better than the best espresso in the world.
Marcus shook his head to himself as his heart fluttered. Years of failed relationships and a divorce later, he still couldn’t keep his feelings in check. His mother always said he had a soft heart, one that would be his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. But Erin was anything but a weakness.
She wasn’t a weakness, but a strength. A constant in his life, making each day feel just a little more special. He didn’t need a relationship to be happy, but….he wouldn’t be opposed to one either.
Yet, as he spotted Ian Malarkey standing a bit too close to her, he forced himself to backtrack. What if she didn’t want him? What if they were meant to be just as they were: just friends?
Maybe it was time for him to move on.
After a few months, their friendship had grown well past a workplace acquaintance. It wasn’t as if she was trying to get attached to him; it just...happened. And it was only a little surprising to her; she tried to stay as professional as she could in the office, but outside? Outside, she could just be Erin, not FBI Special Agent He. Outside, she could shed her jacket and swap the button-down shirt for a ribbed sweater and some jeans. Outside, she and Marcus could sit as close together as they wanted without drawing unwanted attention.
She knew it was silly to fantasize. After all, Marcus was a coworker, if not a superior. And with the way he fussed over her water intake and made sure that she wore her glasses at the right times, he could easily see her as a little sister. As nothing more than a new agent who happened to be friendly.
But if that were true, why would he go through the effort of bringing her lunch on Thursdays? Why did he call her little names like “honeydew” and “sweetheart,” and why did it feel so natural coming from his mouth?
The commotion coming from the direction of the conference rooms told her that the team was back from the investigation. Maybe Marcus was there; she knew he’d gone, but he hadn’t texted since morning. It wouldn’t hurt to pop in to check on him; he did that often enough with her.
When she entered the break room, her heart sank. Sitting off to the side, by the wall, was Marcus asking Teresa Lisbon out on a date. She wasn’t sure why she felt defeated; it wasn’t like she had any plans on asking him out.
But then why did it hurt her to the core to see him giving those puppy eyes and little smiles to Lisbon? The woman didn’t even look interested in him; if anything, she looked confused and hesitant.
Ian caught her eye as she surveyed the room once more, his lips pulling into a tight-lipped smile. He knew about her feelings for Marcus, having spent hours going over evidence and making small talk. In fact, he’d even encouraged her to tell Marcus her feelings, out of fear that she might never get the chance.
Perhaps her chance had passed after all. Turning on her heel, Erin decided that, for once, it was time to go home. Marcus would come to her when he was less busy.
The thing was, though, she didn’t want to go home. She wanted to go over and say hello, and check to make sure he wasn’t injured in the scuffle. Moreover, she didn’t want to be a fill-in for Lisbon’s absence. She didn’t want to be his second choice. And she knew it wasn’t her fault, nor Lisbon’s, that Marcus didn’t choose her. But it still stung.
She watched as their shared lunches became less frequent, the senior agent replacing her space by Marcus’s side. When the elevator would ding at 7AM and she’d glance up to see if it was him, she found him searching the room for Lisbon. They never drifted over to her desk. That fact always made her grip her pen just a little tighter.
On the days when he did grace her with his presence, she felt like a tornado of emotions.
Happy, because she had missed her best friend.
Sad, because she knew the next time she’d spend time with him was in a few weeks rather than a few days.
Grateful, because she knew how hard it was to socialize after a work week of at least 50 hours.
Envious, because of the stories he told.
Relieved, because he still cared.
Plastering a halfhearted smile on her face, Erin listened to Marcus practically worship his girlfriend. His summer breeze of a smile and sparkling eyes made the pain that came with listening worth it. The only other time she’d heard him talk that passionately was when they’d visited an art museum.
At least one of them was happy.
She thought of trying to date again; it had been over a year since she’d been in a relationship. But she couldn’t do it. More than once, she’d put on some simple makeup and casual clothes, ready to head out to the bar, but no. She couldn’t bring herself to leave the apartment. The apartment was where she and Marcus watched movies, where she would cut up fruit and bring them to him on a plate while he pored over reports in the warm lights of the kitchen. It was where he’d navigate her cupboards and fridge to make her a mug of his special hot chocolate. It was her safe space, the one place in her life where she could just be Erin, and he could just be Marcus.
The knife cleaved the melon in half with ease, revealing its pale green interior.
Marcus leaned up against the counter next to her, hair tousled and necktie loosened against his chest. He absentmindedly started rolling up his sleeves, undoing the cuffs of his shirt and folding them up.
She tried not to stare too long at the way his forearms tensed with the movement.
He broke the silence first. “I got the job in DC,” he said, voice soft like velvet.
“That’s great.” A simple response, though Erin cringed internally. Was that any way to react to her best friend’s job promotion? Surely not, but a part of her–a selfish part of her–knew that it meant he was leaving. Leaving not just his position, but her. Texas. The apartment.
It would’ve been disingenuous for her to say anything more.
Then, he added, almost sheepishly, “I also asked Teresa to marry me. And move to DC so we can be together.”
The blade of her knife hit the cutting board a little harder than normal. “Oh. That’s nice.” Cutting away the tough outer skin, she forced herself to ask, “What did she say?”
He sighed and crossed his arms, biting his lip as if to contain a smile. “She said she’d think about it. But I think she’ll come around. I kind of, uh, sprung it onto her the other night.”
And yet there he was, standing next to a woman who would’ve been ready to say yes. But even so, she said, “I’m sure things will work out between you two. You’ve already given so much to your relationship; it would be a shame for her to not see how great you are.”
She slid him a bowl of perfectly cubed melon.
Smiling softly, he took the bowl into his hands. “You’re the best, honeydew.”
The best, but not the one.
“You’re just trying to get on my good side before you leave for DC, brown eyes,” she jested, nudging him with her elbow. Her chest filled with warmth at his laugh. She tried her best to hang onto that feeling, to that sound. “When are you two leaving?”
“I’m already about halfway packed,” he mused, chewing on a cube of honeydew thoughtfully. “So maybe within the week? I hope that’s enough time for Teresa to make a decision.”
There was less time than she thought. She hummed softly. “Are you sure that’s what she wants? That it’s what you want?”
He nodded confidently. “Yes, I...I know that I don’t have the best track record with relationships, but something about her feels right.” The bowl was set into the sink and filled with water. “I’m happy, honey. You don’t have to worry.”
Erin’s eyes burned as she quietly replied, “Okay.”
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Two Lost Souls
A Eugene Sledge x Fem!Reader fic
Rating: PG
Word Count: 6.8k
Warnings: references to the war/violence (duh), references to ptsd, panic attack/nightmare, snafu being his crass self, so much awkward flirting, a teeny tiny bit of angst
A/N: okay story time -- one day a few months ago i rewatched the last episode of the pacific and then took a nap and proceeded to have a lovely dream about cuddling with eugene in a train booth and running my fingers through his hair sooooo here we are. i’m extremely nervous to post this as it was a labor of love and it’s almost my first full period piece. i hope you enjoy! also bonus points if you know what book the reader is reading.
moodboard by @brianmays-hair
--
The nightmares started while Eugene was still in Peleliu. Flashes of blood and corpses and metal and dirt. Screaming and explosions, the sound of bodies hitting the ground. But then he’d wake up to the same visuals, the same sounds. His reality was one long nightmare. There was no escape, no end in sight.
Now Eugene was afraid this was all a pleasant dream. No screaming, no blood. From the moment he set foot back on the mainland, he was in constant fear that he’d wake up and be back there. Especially when the nightmares felt so real. Sometimes he didn’t know what was his true reality.
It had taken a while to get the dirt out from under his fingernails, to get the stench out of his hair, but eventually he did feel clean again.
You can’t shower away the memories. Those linger much longer.
Distractions helped. He read, he smoked. He chatted with his fellow marines. He enjoyed the good food he was given, tried to find comfort in the bed he got to sleep in. He thought about Mobile and his parents and Sid and how he’d be home to them soon. He was hyper-focused on everything and anything, knowing that if he let his mind wander, it’d wander right back there.
It’s how he found himself people-watching at the bustling San Diego train station. The boys were prattling next to him about some girl Snafu had gone fishing for, but Eugene was more engrossed in the crowd around them. Sure there were tons of other marines around, but they were mixed in with parents wrangling their children, businessmen with their briefcases, lovers saying their goodbyes.
A flash of dark red caught Eugene’s eye. A woman, probably around Eugene’s age, stood alone on the platform, clad in a burgundy blazer and matching skirt with a brown trunk resting at her feet. Whereas most of the platform was hectic and frazzled, she stood firm and patient, a calmness about her. She seemed unperturbed by the world around her, lost in her own thoughts, her eyes cast downward as she let out a sigh.
She was beautiful.
Not in the way that the nurses back on the island greeted soldiers with their red-lipped smiles and white uniforms. Not in the way that the girls had primped for the Murphy High prom, practically fighting to dance with Sid while not paying Eugene any mind -- which seemed a lifetime ago now. No, this girl was beautiful in a way that Eugene couldn’t put his finger on. She was beautiful in a way that stopped him in his tracks like no girl ever had before.
The whistle of the train finally arriving at the station and a hand on his shoulder pulled Eugene out of his trance.
“Last leg, Sledge,” Burgie commented with a nod towards the train. Eugene replied with a half-smile before following the corporal, Snafu already ahead of them. Sneaking one last quick glance in the direction of where he last saw the beautiful woman, Eugene was greeted with a sea of people - no flash of burgundy in sight. With a sigh, adjusted the duffle on his shoulder and boarded the train, ready to get home.
--
You weren’t a big fan of long train rides. The rumbling of the cars, the confined spaces, the stale air, the bad food -- it was miserable. Last time you’d boarded a train, it had been under bittersweet circumstances - excitement mixed with worry. But three years had passed since you had arrived in San Diego, and after finding yourself jobless with no place to stay, your time in the port town had come to an end.
So you booked your ticket back home, with nothing but your childhood room and your disillusioned parents waiting for you. What a way to make an already miserable form of travel even more miserable.
You found your only solace was in reading. Luckily you had grabbed a newspaper from the stand at the station -- and snatched a book from your sister’s home before you left. You planned on losing yourself in words while the American countryside passed by your window. You had quite the trek ahead of you.
You sat at a table in the dining car, a bottle of barely-sipped cola accompanying the plate of lunch that had been hardly touched. You held the newspaper in one hand as you used your fork to idly push around your roasted potatoes.
“Is your meal alright, miss?” sounded the voice of a slender waiter above you. With a deep sigh, you lowered your paper and plastered a polite smile, meeting the young staff member’s stare.
“It’s just fine, thank you,” you replied, your voice cheery despite your true demeanor. The gentleman nodded before leaving you be, stepping to the next table. As you watched him leave, your eyes drifted across the aisle of the car. A lone marine sat at the table catty-corner to yours, a private first class by the looks of his uniform. His auburn hair was neatly coiffed and a striking nose divided his face. His eyes were downcast, staring out the window, an almost solemn look to him. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he was handsome - in a genteel boyish way.
But he was no boy. Many of the servicemen you had encountered in the past few years maybe were boys before they left. But being sent overseas to be met with nothing but violence and death -- those boys grew up quickly. This marine was no different. You could see it in the distant look in his eyes. He had seen terrors and lived to tell the tale.
Your thoughts were disturbed by a drawling southern accent behind you.
“Hiya,” the voice greeted. You glanced over your shoulder to find another marine trailing behind a woman. The woman turned at the greeting. “I’m Merriel Shelton. How about I take you to the back and you can show me your caboose?”
You spun back forward, eyes wide and your hand shooting up to cover your mouth, hiding your smirk. And when a resounding slap echoed behind you, a short giggle escaped your lips. The woman stomped down the aisle in a tiff, while the extremely forward marine and his buddy took their seats, joining the lonely marine you had been admiring.
You shook your head at the antics, turning your attention back to your paper. The boys’ voices across the aisle carried over to your side, but you tried to tune them out, not wanting to unintentionally eavesdrop. You urged yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your ears betrayed you. After reading the same sentence over four times, not digesting a single word, your gaze drifted back over to your marine, who had taken up buttering the biscuit that had been sitting on his plate. His posture and manner had shifted, he seemed more relaxed in the presence of his fellow soldiers. His eyes were soft and friendly, and the ghost of a smile had taken up residence on his face.
“Guess I’m gonna find out soon enough whether I’m getting married or not,” the colonel who sat across from your marine declared wistfully before turning his attention to your marine. “What about you, Sledgehammer?”
You grinned at what you assumed was a nickname. How a seemingly mild-mannered fellow like your marine could have gotten the moniker of “Sledgehammer” was beyond you. Your eyes drifted back to the man, interested in his answer. He seemed to ponder the question for a moment, a flash of uncertainty briefly crossing his face as he picked at his biscuit.
“I’m just hoping this Florence girl comes to her senses,” he finally cracked with a smirk. So he was clever, too. You found that you couldn’t help but smile through the exchange, your gaze dropping back to your lap.
“Got a job lined up in Mobile?” An Alabama boy. That was an interesting development.
“Nah,” he revealed, his apparent uncertainty no longer bothering him. “No job, no girl…no plans.”
You and the lone marine had more in common than you had originally thought.
“How long you think that’s gonna last?” the flirtatious marine from before inquired, relaxing back in his seat. But the laughter of a pair of businessmen passing by your table concealed the marine’s answer. You shot a glare towards the rowdy gentlemen’s backs. How dare they prevent you from snooping on some strangers’ conversation!
Your gaze fell back to the trio of boys, and you couldn’t help but admire the redhead’s smile. The way his eyes lit up with warmth at his friends’ jokes, the way the dimple between his brows appeared and disappeared -- he was beautiful.
You were lost in your musings when for a brief moment, your marine’s eyes suddenly locked on to yours.
His smile fell and a look you couldn’t identify -- confusion? recognition? irritation? -- flashed across the features of his handsome face before you broke the spell and looked back down at your paper. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you stared down at the black ink on the page. How embarrassing. You had been boldly staring at the man for an inappropriate amount of time -- listening to his conversation, no less -- and now you had been caught.
You couldn’t help but think about the marine’s reaction. In the fleeting moment that he held your gaze, it was almost as if he’d seen a ghost. You didn’t want him to think you were some creep or some crazy woman.
You lifted your eyes slightly, glancing across the aisle. Your marine’s cheeks were pink as he gazed back at you softly - but only for a moment before his eyes quickly fell back down to the plate in front of him.
And that became the game you played. As the train chugged through the desert - what you assumed was Arizona - you and your marine took turns stealing glances at each other. First you, then he’d notice and you’d look away. Then he’d stare and you’d catch him. Each time, a rosy color would come to his cheeks and a hint of a smile would appear. Your own shyness began to fade with each time you’d catch him, even throwing him a wink at one point.
After another hour or so, your marine’s friends elected to head back to their coach seats. You assumed your game was over, and you tried to not let yourself be too disappointed. You closed your paper, having finally read every word -- though whether you absorbed any of it was up for debate. You gathered your things, pondering your next move. Maybe you’d wander to the observation car - it tended to be quieter as the sun went down. You slung your messenger bag over your shoulder and were about to step into the aisle when you were met with the sight of your marine, alone once again, staring out the window. Just like the first time you noticed him.
You took a deep breath, channeled your sister’s boldness and took a seat at the marine’s table.
--
It was her. The mystery woman. The beautiful girl clad in burgundy from the train platform was sitting across from Eugene.
It took him a moment to collect his thoughts as he gaped at her. He had spent the last hour stealing glances at her across the aisle, unsure if she was real or simply a vision. Now there she was, close enough for Eugene to reach out and touch her, gazing at him with soft eyes and a friendly smile.
“Hi,” she spoke after a few moments, breaking the silence and Eugene’s daze.
“Hi,” Eugene practically whispered, unable to find his voice. He cleared his throat before starting again. “I do apologize for staring, miss. You know, before.”
The young woman let out a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, let’s not pretend you were the sole offender, private. I believe I was staring at you first.” Oh how wrong she was. But Eugene would keep that correction to himself.
She offered her name and her hand across the table for a shake, and Eugene almost immediately felt at ease in her presence. She certainly was not like the girls back in Mobile.
“I’m Eugene,” he offered in return, trying to ignore how soft her hand felt in his. She smirked as she let him go.
“So where does ‘Sledgehammer’ come from then?” she questioned with a quirked brow, and Eugene flushed at his nickname falling from her gentle lips.
“My last name. Sledge,” he explained. “Private First Class Eugene Bondurant Sledge, at your service, miss.” His explanation earned a bright smile from the girl, and Eugene decided right then and there that he’d do anything he could to make her smile again.
“Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sledge,” she said with a nod.
“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, miss.”
The woman playfully narrowed her eyes at Eugene, as if she were examining him.
“Was all that true? Before?” she asked before pursing her lips.
“Was what true?”
“No job. No girl. No plans,” she recited back to him, adding a twang to her normal voice. Eugene could feel the heat in his cheeks once again. He let out a nervous chuckle and scratched at the back of his neck.
“‘Fraid so, miss,” he responded, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Hope you don’t think less of me.” The woman shook her head as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“Of course not,” she assured him. “I just don’t believe you.” She shrugged and cocked an eyebrow challengingly. Eugene was thrown off by her answer.
“You don’t believe me?” he inquired with a furrowed brow. She casually shrugged once again, as if she was making perfect sense.
“No way you can be this handsome and charming and not have a girl waiting for you back home.”
If the young woman was on a mission to make Eugene blush at all costs, she was extremely successful. Eugene shakily laughed as he stared down at his lap, unable to meet her gaze after that.
“My apologies, Mr. Sledge,” she spoke again, and Eugene let himself glance back up to see her timidly looking away this time. “That was awfully forward of me.”
Eugene was so thrown by his woman in burgundy. The prettiest dame he’d ever laid eyes on had gone out of her way to talk to him. Ask him questions. Compliment him. Yet he could see that she was just as nervous as he was. It was disarming in a way.
“No apology necessary, miss,” Eugene affirmed, offering a friendly smile when she met his gaze once again. “I’m just not used to getting attention from a gal as beautiful as you.”
A new game began. Eugene and his woman in burgundy took turns trying to make the other bashful, his confidence rising with every clever quip and retort to her own flirtations.
Eugene wouldn’t realize until much later that he hadn’t thought once about the war the entire evening.
--
“I feel like I should ask,” Eugene spoke up, rousing you from your thoughts. The two of you had relocated from the dining car to the observation car. You had been correct: it was virtually empty at this time of night, and the two of you were enjoying the peace. “Where are you off to?” You gave him a lopsided smile.
“Home,” you replied. “Tallahassee, Florida. Lived there my whole life until a few years ago.”
“Florida, huh? Why we’re practically neighbors,” Eugene commented with a grin. “So how did you end up in San Diego?”
“Few years back, my older sister married some businessman from California. Didn’t even get a chance to meet the man myself before he was drafted and shipped off to Europe.”
Eugene listened intently as you told your story. You knew he understood the horrors of war more than anyone else you’d ever spoken to.
“She demanded I come out to San Diego to stay with her,” you explained. “She’s always had terrible nerves and couldn’t bear to be alone in the house. So I took the train out, got a job at a bond office, and spent my free time keeping my sister away from the radio.” You let out a sigh and let your eyes fall to your lap before going on. “By the end, we assumed he’d be coming home safe and sound. They told us he was shot two days before the ceasefire was called.”
“To say my sister was distraught would be quite the understatement. After locking herself in her room for a week followed by five months of her ignoring my existence entirely, she told me I had until the end of the week to leave. Perfect timing really, since the bond office had terminated me that morning. No more war meant no more war bonds.” You shrugged as you recalled your story, as if it wasn’t such a fresh wound. You chanced a peek at Eugene, expecting a look of pity. But instead you were met with his warm hazel eyes, expressing nothing but understanding.
“So now here I am. Headed home. No job. No man. No plans,” you finished with a wink. Eugene smiled at your quip before turning to gaze out into the darkness.
“It seems like we both deserve to just do nothing for a while,” he suggested. Doing nothing. You quite liked the sound of that.
“Inspired idea, private.”
Eugene’s warm eyes locked on to yours once again, and you swore everything stopped and fell away. Nothing mattered except the marine in front of you, his bright smile, the lock of auburn hair that had fallen out of place. He was beautiful and clever and sweet, and though you knew he was haunted by his past, you’d never hold that against him. Gosh, you knew it was ridiculous, seeing as though you’d only met the man a few hours ago. But there was a part of you that wanted to pull him into your arms and never let go. Be there to make him laugh and make sure he knew he was safe. Listen to his stories and share yours in return. You wanted to do nothing for a while, like Eugene had said, but do that nothing with him next to you.
As you continued to gaze at the handsome man before you, you absent-mindedly tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. And you swore that for a brief moment, Eugene’s eyes fell to your mouth.
You practically lept to your feet, letting out a shaky breath before speaking.
“Well, I’m going to get some shut-eye,” you announced as you collected your things. “I suggest you do the same, private. Or at the very least you should spend some time with your friends before you have to see them off tomorrow.” Eugene, seemingly confused by the suddenness of your exit, nodded a few times before finding his voice.
“Right,” he said, “Well, goodnight.”
You cringed at what sounded like disappointment in his voice. You hadn’t meant to offend him - you just got startled is all.
You offered him a warm smile. “Goodnight, Eugene.”
You spun on your heels and headed for the doorway before you could change your mind and kiss him the way you really wanted to.
--
Eugene didn’t get much sleep that night, but that was nothing new. What changed is what kept him up. Thoughts of his burgundy girl swam through his head most of the night. He replayed every conversation they’d had, half of the time berating himself for what he said and the other half thinking about what he wished he’d said instead.
Snafu made sure to point out the bags under Eugene’s eyes that morning at breakfast.
But Eugene didn’t pay him any mind. He was too busy keeping an eye out for the woman, hoping he could flag her down to at least wish her a good morning.
By the late afternoon, there was no sign of the woman, and Eugene, Snafu, and Burgie had moved back to a booth in the coach car. Burgie was antsy, knowing they were not far out from his hometown of Jewett. He was recalling his excitement to see his little brother again when Snafu interrupted him, tapping his hand on Burgie’s chest.
“Would you look at her,” Snafu drawled out. Eugene glanced over his shoulder to where Snafu was indicating, only to be met with the sight of the very woman who had been on his mind all day, casually walking down the aisle towards him. She had traded out her burgundy ensemble for a cream colored blouse and a navy skirt. Eugene perked up, sitting up straight in hopes of getting her attention. But Snafu was faster, rising to his feet and cutting her off. She was surprised for a moment, but a look of recognition flashed across her face.
“Afternoon, miss,” Snafu greeted as the woman eyed him warily. Then her eyes flitted over to Eugene and a hint of a smile appeared. Then she looked back at Snafu.
“Something I can do for you, soldier?” she asked, arching an eyebrow and folding her arms across her chest.
“Ohh, there’s a lot you can do for me, girlie,” Snafu countered. “Hows about we head somewhere private and I’ll show you?”
Something in Eugene’s chest tightened at Snafu’s words. Sure, he had watched Snafu use line after line on any girl in his vicinity since they boarded the train. Even laughed at the man’s antics at times. But something was different about him putting the moves on his girl--or at least his friend. Acquaintance? Eugene didn’t know what the two of them were.
“Tempting,” she responded, rousing Eugene from his thoughts. “But I think I’m gonna sit and enjoy my book instead. Thank you for the offer, private.”
Snafu seemed confused -- Eugene assumed he was used to either getting the girl or getting a slap. He probably wasn’t used to getting no reaction at all. Snafu plopped back down in his seat, his brows furrowed, and Eugene chanced a look at the woman. She shot him a wink before settling in the booth directly across the aisle from the group of men and pulled out a book.
Eugene fidgeted in his seat -- his instinct was to go join her. But he respected her wishes. Maybe he’d ask her to dinner later.
--
It wasn’t long after you had settled into your booth that you watched Eugene say goodbye to his sergeant.
The mutual respect was evident, and the goodbye was definitely bittersweet. The normally chatty boys fell silent after he left, and Eugene’s far away look returned once again.
Eugene’s flirtatious friend then announced he was headed to the dining car to get a drink, and Eugene simply nodded, his gaze never leaving the window.
You waited until the audacious marine was clear out of the car before you shifted across the aisle to grab his empty seat. Eugene perked up immediately, sitting up and grinning.
“Afternoon, miss,” he greeted with a nod. “Sorry about Snafu before. I think he’s determined to pester every woman on this train before he gets off.”
“Oh, no apologies necessary,” you assured him with a chuckle. “I found it quite funny.”
Eugene’s eyes sparkled as he looked at you. Gosh, you’d almost forgotten how beautiful he was in the sunlight. Those hazel eyes you could just get lost in. You noticed the littlest bit of stubble had formed across his upper lip and around his jaw since last night.
Then you realized you were staring again and you quickly dropped your eyes to your lap out of habit.
“How’s your book?” Eugene spoke up, easing the awkwardness. You appreciated the gesture.
“It’s good so far,” you explained, patting the cover. “Not the most uplifting thing to read on the train, but I’m hoping it ends on a happy note.”
“What’s it about?”
You sighed as you stared at the book in your hands. “It’s about family hardships. Talks about poverty and alcoholism.” You paused to think for a moment before looking back up at Eugene with a smirk. “I don’t mind reading sad stories usually. But I can’t help but wish I’d stolen a happier book from my sister on my way out.”
That earned a chuckle from Eugene.
“Well, I--”
“Now now, what have we here?”
The two of you had been so focused on each other that neither of you had noticed that Eugene’s friend -- you remembered Eugene called him Snafu -- had returned, and was leaning against the side of the booth with a bottle of Coke in his hand.
“Thought you wanted to read your book?” Snafu continued, a playful tone to his voice. He cocked an eyebrow before taking a sip of his soda. You glanced over at Eugene to find him beet red in the face.
“Actually, I was just inviting Mr. Sledge here to grab some dinner with me,” you improvised, not wanting to have to lose your alone time with Eugene. “If he’d like.” His eyes lit up.
“I would be honored, miss,” Eugene replied, getting to his feet and holding a hand out for you. Your cheeks hurt from how wide you were smiling as you placed your hand into his and let him help you from the booth. Eugene looped your arm under his and began to lead you down the aisle when Snafu’s slow, southern dialect called out behind you.
“Oh, I see how it is. Well, don’t have too much fun, you two!”
--
“So what did you miss the most while you were away?”
The question surprised Eugene a little bit. It was the first time she had asked him anything that had to do with his experience in the war.
“My dog,” he replied, his eyes dropping to his half-empty plate. “Closest friend I’ve ever had. He passed while I was gone.”
She nodded in understanding, and Eugene appreciated that she didn’t offer him pity.
“Dogs really are better than humans sometimes.”
Eugene simply nodded as his gaze drifted out the window. Time passing in the pacific had been a blur, even with him keeping track of the days in his notebook. He couldn’t even remember when it was he got the letter about Deacon. Maybe it was sometime during Okinawa? It must have been. He was just so angry --
“Where do you go?” The woman’s voice interrupted Eugene’s thoughts, and he blinked rapidly as he realized he had been zoning out.
“Sorry, what?”
The woman seemed unfazed. She simply looked at him with curiosity, a soft smile tugging at her lips.
“When I first saw you yesterday, you were staring out the window. Eyes glazed over, lost in thought. You’ve done it a few times actually,” she explained. “You drifted off the same way just now. So my question is, where do you go?”
Where to start? Should he sit there and detail the horrors he’d seen? How every second he spent on those islands would flash before him, his brain forcing him to relive the atrocities he’d witnessed and been a part of? And could he even begin to put into words how affected he was? Was it fair to unload his burdens on this innocent girl, who’d brought him nothing but peace since he had set foot on the train platform?
“Back there,” was all he said, hoping it would be enough. It seemingly was, as his dinner date nodded her head once again. A silence settled over the pair, and Eugene couldn’t help but kick himself. If he hadn’t gotten lost in his thoughts before, she wouldn’t have asked and they could have continued their lovely dinner.
“I’m no expert,” the woman spoke up, and Eugene’s eyes locked on to hers. “But I have a feeling it’s going to take some time for you boys to fully leave that place.” The woman leaned forward, and Eugene was struck by how warm and comforting her eyes were. “And in my humble opinion, the world shouldn’t expect you to be okay right away.”
Eugene was blown away. This woman -- this beautiful, funny, clever, smart woman, who’d never set foot on a battlefield in her life -- somehow got it. Sure she hadn’t physically seen the things that Eugene had seen, and she never would, so she couldn’t completely understand. But she respected him and what he’d been through. And not in a superficial way, like when strangers on the street would thank him for his service. But in a way that made him feel seen and heard -- without having to speak a word of the horrors out loud.
With a nod of his head, Eugene finally spoke up.
“I appreciate that,” he said. “Now if only the rest of the world agreed with you.”
--
By the time Eugene and you walked back to the coach car, the sun had gone down completely. You could tell Eugene was beat, and you wondered if he even had slept the night before with how large the bags under his eyes were.
You tucked yourself back into your booth across from the boys, continuing where you left off in your sister’s novel.
The boys were relatively quiet next to you, and you realized after only a few moments that Eugene was out cold, slumbering against his duffle.
It soothed you to see him so peaceful. Your conversation over dinner had confirmed what you had expected to be true: Eugene could put on a face, but behind the facade he was extremely haunted by his time overseas.
It truly wasn’t fair. No one should be subjected to such horrors. Young boys with their futures ahead of them, shipped off to some foreign country, to either die or come back missing a piece of themselves? Tearing families apart and turning cities to rubble? It all seemed so pointless.
You were just one person. Just a simple girl from a small town, lost in your own life, unsure of where the path ahead would lead. But you had a loving heart and a warm embrace. And you’d give them both to Eugene, no questions asked. You could see yourself walking down that path with his hand in yours, figuring out how to navigate the future together. The thought of Eugene being there made it a little less terrifying. And you wanted nothing more than for Eugene to go through the rest of his life never feeling unsafe ever again.
You didn’t know how much time had passed when the train slowed to a stop. You watched as Snafu slowly got to his feet and grabbed his duffle from the bunk, swinging it over his shoulder. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking back at Eugene before stepping into the aisle. His eyes locked onto yours and he cocked his head back towards the sleeping marine.
“It’s rare to sleep well these days. Don’t want to ruin that,” he mumbled, clearly feeling like he had to explain himself to you. “I’m not one for goodbyes either.” You offered him an understanding nod and a friendly smile. Snafu returned your nod before heading down the aisle and out the door.
Sometimes you didn’t understand why men did the things they did. But you’d also never be able to understand the connection and camaraderie between servicemen. So you didn’t question Snafu’s decision to leave without waking Eugene.
Another hour or so had passed after the stop in New Orleans when you heard a whimper from across the aisle. Your eyes shot over to Eugene and your heart practically stopped. His eyes were closed tightly, his brow pinched, and he was gripping his own arms so hard his knuckles were practically white. He shook and thrashed in his seat, small cries escaping his lips that seemed to increase in volume each second.
You lept to your feet, throwing your book into your booth behind you before plopping next to Eugene and gently resting your hands on his.
“Eugene,” you whispered, trying not to wake him too harshly. He was clearly having a nightmare, and you didn’t know if trying to startle him awake was the right move. “Eugene, honey, wake up.”
He continued to shake, sweat forming on his forehead and his cries growing louder and louder. You moved your hands to his face, cupping his jaw gently and running your thumbs over his cheeks.
“Eugene!” you spoke louder and suddenly his eyes shot open and he sat up, gasping for air, but your hold on him prevented him from going too far. He blinked rapidly as his chest heaved, trying to get his bearings, but you continued to caress his face, murmuring affirmations to help him.
“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” you assured him. His big, hazel eyes were so sad as they stared into yours, and tears had begun to fall to his red cheeks. He let out a sob and you pulled him to your chest, cradling the back of his head as you wrapped your other arm around him. You held him close to you as he cried, your heart breaking at seeing him like this. You wished you could take every burden away from him. He didn’t deserve this. No one did.
A few nosy guests began to peek over their seats to see what was happening, frowns painted on their faces. As if this poor man’s trauma was an inconvenience to them. You glared daggers at them, and they shied away, slipping back into their seats.
You lost track of time, absentmindedly running your fingers through Eugene’s auburn locks as you held him. You began to softly hum a melody, a song that always comforted you when you were upset. Eugene’s cries began to quiet down, and his body shakes ceased.
Suddenly, he tensed in your arms before pulling away entirely. He wiped at his cheeks roughly as he sniffled, eyes locked on to his lap. You watched him carefully, unsure of what to do.
“Sorry,” he croaked out, his voice scratchy. “I, uh -- um, thank you for…” he trailed off, gesturing towards you with his hand.
“It’s okay,” you replied timidly. You knew he was embarrassed but you wanted to pull him back into your arms and assure him that he had no reason to be. But you waited, wanting him to come to you. His brow furrowed and you could practically hear his brain thinking.
“Now I guess you can see how broken I really am,” he said after a few moments and your heart ached.
“Eugene,” you practically cried. But he didn’t respond, instead turning sharply to face the dark window and letting out a shaky breath.
A tear escaped down your own cheek, your heart stinging at the rejection. But you opted to respect his space. With a sigh, you stood and shifted back over to your booth. You didn’t bother picking up your book, instead deciding to pull your own trunk and coat down from the rack and settling against them, hoping maybe you could get a little sleep.
--
Eugene didn’t bother trying to fall back asleep -- he knew wait awaited him in his dreams. Instead he focused on what he could see out of the train window. The sun eventually rose into the sky, and Eugene could finally see the greenery of Mississippi just before the train crossed the border into his home state.
He hadn’t taken a moment to look over at the woman he knew was still in the booth across from him. He couldn’t bear it. He was so ashamed of her seeing him like that. And then even more ashamed at how he’d pushed her away after she had been so kind to him. She hadn’t needed to comfort him, she had no obligation to do so. Yet she held him anyway. And Eugene had thanked her with a cold shoulder.
As the train pulled into the Mobile station, Eugene’s eyes scanned the platform. He couldn’t help but smile when he spotted Sid, leaning against his car.
Eugene slid out of the booth, grabbing his duffle and throwing it over his shoulder. A small voice sounded next to him.
“Eugene?”
The marine turned to find his woman in burgundy, eyes filled with so much worry, holding out a piece of paper.
“If you want to write. You don’t have to,” she explained, her voice uneasy. Eugene could feel his chest tighten. He hated that he had hurt her, made it so that she was so unsure around him. He gently took the piece of paper from her hand, his finger brushing hers just slightly. He was so tongue-tied, he had no idea what to say to her. So he simply offered her a soft smile and tucked the paper into his coat pocket.
As he made his way down the aisle, Eugene took a deep breath. Maybe one day he’d work up the nerve to write to her. He’d explain his actions and apologize profusely for his behavior. Hope that she’d forgive him but would understand if she didn’t.
But what was the point if he was always going to be broken?
--
You didn’t think you missed Tallahassee. But after settling back into your childhood home, visiting some of your old haunts, and reuniting with old friends, you’d begun to realize its charm.
Now that all the men were home from the war, jobs for women were scarce. You spent most of your time helping your mother around the house or taking walks downtown. Every so often you and some girlfriends would drive down to the beach, but other than that, you didn’t get up to much.
It had been a little over two months since you’d gotten home. You would have been lying if you said you hadn’t checked the mailbox religiously -- each day hoping a letter from Eugene would arrive. You knew the two of you had parted ways rather awkwardly, and you understood if a letter never arrived. But you really hoped you’d hear from him.
You opened the mailbox, only finding some random letters for your father. With a sigh, you headed back inside the house, dropping the letters on your father’s desk before heading down the hall to your room.
You collapsed on your bed with a groan, staring up at the ceiling. You needed to get Eugene off your mind. Maybe some of your friends knew some local servicemen who weren’t spoken for.
You were lost in your musings when a knock sounded at your door. Your mother called your name from the other side.
“You have a gentleman caller, dear,” she explained through the wood. “I didn’t know you knew any marines!”
You sat up with a jolt, eyes wide. Could it be?
“Be there in a minute, ma!” you called out, rushing to your vanity. You quickly checked yourself over, fixing your hair just slightly and patting down your skirt. You cursed at how your bed had wrinkled your blouse, but you didn’t have time to fix it. And if your caller was who you thought it was, you were sure he wouldn’t mind.
You practically flung open your door, pausing in the hall to take a deep breath before stepping out.
You were greeted with the sight of Private First Class Eugene Bondurant Sledge, adorned in his uniform, standing in your living room.
Eugene’s face lit up at your entrance, a huge smile plastered across his face. You grinned as you took him in -- he was even more handsome than you remembered.
“I’m sorry I didn’t write,” he said, breaking the silence. “I needed some time to get settled back home. And I figured you deserved an in-person apology for my actions.”
“Eugene, you have nothing to apologize for, I promise you,” you assured him as you took a step forward. You itched to reach out to him, but you knew your mother was watching nearby. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Eugene was here, in the flesh, in your living room in Tallahassee. You could barely believe it.
“Ma’am? Do you mind if I take your daughter out for a walk around the neighborhood? I promise we’ll be back before supper,” Eugene inquired, addressing your mother, who had been lingering in the doorway of the kitchen. She grinned as she clasped her hands together.
“As long as you promise to join us for supper, Mr. Sledge.”
“It would be my pleasure, ma’am,” Eugene said with a sharp nod. He turned back to you and offered his arm. “Shall we?”
With a beaming smile, you looped your arm through his and let him lead you out the front door.
The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, soaking up each other’s presence in the warm Floridian air. You nudged his shoulder slightly.
“I was right, you know,” you spoke up.
“About what?”
“You do have a girl.”
--
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your face lit up upon seeing the message on your phone. despite your objections, jaehyun had insisted on picking you up and taking you home today (you had told him that if he were to drop you off after your date later, it'd take him almost an hour to get back home. to which he responded with "it's okay as long as i'd get to spend more time with you" which resulted in you nearly dropping your phone). after giving yourself one last check-up in front the mirror, you had finally opted to go downstairs.
now, seeing jaehyun in the usual suit and tie ensemble was undeniably heart-stopping, but seeing him in a plain black shirt and jeans? now that was something else. you had told him the night prior to wear something casual, and that was probably the best decision you've ever made thus far.
he was leaning on his car, a coat loosely hanging off of his shoulder and attention drilled on his phone. noticing your nearing presence, he quickly shut off the device, eyes gleaming and dimples appearing.
"you're here."
it was around four in the afternoon, the sky rendering a beautiful brilliant blue. patches of little white clouds littered the heaven's canvas, and the sun's glare showered directly on jaehyun's face.
"indeed i am," you laughed, finding your spot directly in front of him. jaehyun's gaze lingered on you a little longer, a light wash of pink painting his pale cheeks. you raised a brow, expecting him to say something but he only stifled out a cough, quickly scrambling to open the front door of his car for you.
"after you," he stuttered out, attempting to keep his composure. jaehyun was nervous— not because of you, but instead it's because the whole concept of going out for mere pleasure had been foreign to him since he was sixteen. you'd actually been a source of comfort for him; even if he embarks on the unkown, it would seem like nothing with your presence alone.
you thanked him before entering, and shortly thereafter he followed.
"so, where exactly are you taking us, miss y/n?" jaehyun asked you but his attention remained on the road before him.
"you'll see when we get there, jae— oh, you should go left from here," and so he did. the next couple of minutes went on like that— you giving him directions, and him attacking you with questions regarding your destination (you refused to answer any of them, of course). after a while, a large ferris wheel can into view as well as vague sounds of boisterous merrymaking.
"jaehyun, we're almost there!" you gushed in delight, slightly bouncing in your seat as you gleamed at the distant sight before you and jaehyun couldn't help but smile at your honeyed excitement.
the car had landed in the the parking lot, prompting you to go out. but before you could open the car door, jaehyun swiftly left his seat, jogged over to your side, and opened the door for you. he extended his hand for you to grab and you couldn't contain your laughter.
"such a gentleman," with a painted smile on your face, you placed your hand on his as you exited the vehicle.
you looked up to jaehyun to see if he was just as eager as you to try all of the rides and games, but his expression remained unreadable. a question came into thought, so you tugged on the short sleeve of his shirt, prompting the male's attention.
the wide grin on you refused to falter even as you neared the park's entrance. there was a spring in your step as you walked and your enthusiasm only grew once you saw the endless colorful booths and stalls lining up from the entrance.
"jae, have you ever been to an amusement park before?"
"a few times, yes," he answered, a somber feeling tracing his features. "but it was a quite long time ago so i don't really remember what it's like."
a frown appeared surfaced after hearing his response. being bred into a family that garnered such a reputation undeniably brought about an immense amount of pressure, so you weren't surprised that jaehyun gave up his childhood so early in order to live up to expectations of dozens and dozens of nameless people. you'd made the right decision of bringing him to the amusement park today— maybe through this he'd be able to relive what he had long forgotten.
"well then," you quickly stood before him, blocking his path to move forward. with your new found determination, you quickly grabbed his hand, eliciting a look of confusion from the tall male. "i'll help you remember."
with a swift tug of his wrist, you ran, jaehyun dragging behind you. "miss y/n, slow down—"
"keep up, jaehyun! or else i might leave you in the dust!" you sang, a wide smile spread on your lips. at first, jaehyun was caught in a daze, but with a quick shake of his head and chimes laughter leaving his lips, he suddenly overtook took your speed.
"keep up, miss y/n."
he teased, your positions switching in a blink of an eye. jaehyun's hair flew with the wind— you couldn't see his face, but you just know that he was beaming, and that alone made you swell with joy.
the afternoon went by rather quickly. after running around the park for a while, you two decided to try out the games first— and dear god, you were met with an entirely new side of jung jaehyun.
"miss y/n, do you mind stepping away for a while?"
"oh, sure," quickly, you scurried away from him, finding a spot a few steps away from the jaehyun.
in front of you two was a punch machine, glaring at you with its red and yellow lights. you had just left from the one of the shooting games where you both failed miserably, causing jaehyun to be a bit dejected. you had told him that it was most likely rigged, but the male swore that he'd regain his dignity. when you glanced up at him to see how he's holding up, and you couldn't help your amusement— jaehyun's brows were in a furrow, face in frozen ice. the fact that he was taking this so seriously was absolutely adorable.
a small crowd of children had formed around you, and you could see that the worker in charge of the game was getting impatient (jaehyun started stretching a bit, and you could tell that the guy was this close to kicking you out).
with a few swift steps and the swing of an arm—
bam.
952.
the small crowd started clapping, and the first thing jaehyun did was look at you— face glowing with a smile that looked as if he had just won the whole world. the way his cheeks lifted and eyes disappeared strung a different kind of chord inside of you. springing from the ground, you leaped towards him, arms spread to capture him in an embrace.
"jaehyun, holy shit, that's a new record!" you squealed, rupturing a wave of confusion from jaehyun. his right arm ended up wrapping around your waist and his opposite palm was resting on your head which was buried in his chest. like earlier, his bewilderment quickly washed away and his voice broke out a chuckle. you looked up, only to see him staring at you with stars in his eyes.
"i told you i'd make up for my loss."
"you didn't have to, but i'm proud of you anyways."
after trying out most of the games and rides (as well as a second run at the viking, due to jaehyun's insistence), the light sky was replaced with the star-studded breath of the night. the lights hanging all over the park were shining— casting dozens of colors all over. the two had just gotten down from your ride from the ferris wheel. although the ride was spent primarily in silence while admiring the atmosphere and scenery before you, it wasn't at all awkward. instead, there was comfort lingering in the air inside the tiny box you two were enclosed in.
shortly thereafter you found yourselves eating dinner at the nearby boardwalk with the sight of the light-stained waters in front of you, and before you knew it the night was finally over. at 9:32 pm, you were already on yout ride back home— the card ride composing of you blaring one of jaehyun's playlists at full volume and singing your hearts out (at that instance, you had found out that jaehyun's voice was nothing less than heavenly and you had complained as to why he'd never told you before). moments later, the facade of your apartment building came into view, signalling the end of your date.
with the same routine as earlier, he had opened the door for you, hands pressed tightly together and showing no signs of letting go.
"i had fun today," you breathed out. the thoughtless grins on your faces mirrored each other, along with the enraptured adoration spiraling in your eyes. "so did you, i hope. if not, then i'd be really sad."
the streetlights and the stars were the only things lighting up the area, but everything suddenly became brighter when you heard the soft laughter slipping from jaehyun's pink tinted lips. "you being sad would be the last thing i'd want, miss y/n."
the cold wind nipped at your skin, causing you to hold onto jaehyun's hand tighter. as much as you didn't want to, you had to head back inside. it was already getting late and you still had work tomorrow morning.
"i should get going, jae," you spoke, earning a nod of understanding from the male. hesitantly, he slipped his hand off of yours, a glimpse of disappointment hinting at his features before being replaced once more with his dimpled smile.
"i'll wait until you get inside before i make my leave."
"alright, alright," you laughed, a gentle rose flushing you cheeks. "text me when you get home, okay?"
jaehyun nodded once more and you finally decided to head inside. once at the entrance, however, you turned your heels to see if he was still there, and indeed he was— standing alone under the coldness of the night, just because he wants to see you safely get inside. you see his expression— confused as to why you weren't opening the door yet, and suddenly you felt your heart jump in a giddy flight. your eyes met and you briskly scurried to unlock the door, lightly smacking on of your cheeks in attempts to calm the blazing red storm going about. you swung it open, but before you finally entered, a sudden thought went inside your head.
lips pressed together, you hesitated, but then ultimately decided
fuck it.
you swiveled around to face jaehyun again and you wordlessly speeded towards him, legs moving in a haste, the air gusting against you. he was flustered with you suddenly standing before him, and it didn't help his case when you looked up to him with your face flushed. without giving jaehyun any opportunity to speak, you sprung on your toes, quickly pressing a fluttering kiss on his jaw.
"goodnight, jaehyun!"
and just like that you ran inside, leaving jaehyun in a coral stained daze. he heard the door to your apartment building closing, and he snapped out. he shook his head, laughing to himself, before getting inside his car.
"goodnight."
gold painted canvas
the classic rich boy and poor girl love story but with less prejudice and more happiness
25 // goodnight
a/n: HHEHEHEH hope you enjoyed 1.9k words of tooth rotting fluff <33 pls lmk what you think hehehe
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Airplane Mode || Track 13: Just One Day || jhs
Summary: In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you’re really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate in time, they starve to death. So what happens when your soulmate is a world famous idol?And you’re just one fan in a sea of many who can’t even speak the same language?
Pairing: Hoseok x Fem Character
Word Count: 4.3k
Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au. Language barrier!au. Explicit language.
Warnings: This chapter contains swearing.
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By the time Eunjae got back to her apartment, it was around two in the morning. Taehyung had given her a sleepy-eyed hug goodnight before making his way to the dorm. Eunjae closed the front door behind her with an inaudible sigh, thing off her shoes by the entryway. The day had been long, filled with an excessive amount of stress at work, only to be followed by the time spent with Taehyung.
Eunjae would by lying if she said that she wasn't happy that the boys were so open about being her. That they didn't seem to be doing it just out of obligation because she was one of their member's soulmate. It was nice to feel accepted when she'd been forced into a strange new place with people she didn't know. Closing her eyes around a tired yawn, Eunjae navigated her apartment with heavy lids.
Only to stop dead when she caught sight of a foreign object in her peripheral.
Sat slouched down on the couch with his chin propped up in his hand, was her soulmate. She shouldn't have been as surprised as she was that he was there, since he knew the code to the door and all. And maybe if she'd have checked her phone that was buried somewhere at the bottom of her bag, she would have seen the text messages. But she didn't because she hadn't. Hoseok didn't notice her approach, not that he could with his eyes closed.
By the soft, deep breaths that escaped his nose, she assumed that he must have fallen asleep. Which only served to bring up the question of how long he'd been there. Had he been waiting on her long? A surge of guilt caused Eunjae to frown as she crouched down in front of him. He'd changed out of the clothes he'd been wearing earlier that day and into a pair of joggers and a t-shirt.
Even with his eyes shut, he looked tired. Eunjae couldn't blame him, not with how busy they all were preparing for their comeback. His face was slack, dark eyelashes kissing his high cheekbones. Soft looking heart-shaped lips were slightly parted in sleep while his chest gently rose and fell with each inhale.
Eunjae hadn't been able to fully take in his features without the fear of him catching her staring. Hoseok was beautiful, strikingly handsome with all of the sharp lines and angles that made up his symmetrical face. Why some ARMY didn't appreciate them was something that she would never be able to understand. And she wasn't just saying that because he was her soulmate. Anyone who looked at him and thought that he wasn't incredibly attractive were blind.
There was no other excuse.
Reaching out a hand, Eunjae gently shook his shoulder. "Hey."
He didn't respond, too wrapped up in whatever dreams were playing out behind his eyelids.
"Hobi," she tried again, shaking his shoulder a little bit harder.
Hoseok grunted, eyes fluttering open in confusion before focusing on her. They were still filled with sleep in the only way someone who'd just awoken could be. He ran a hand down his face in an attempt to bring himself back into alertness before sitting up a little straighter. When he met her gaze again, she couldn't help the small smile that broke out across her face.
"Hey, sleepyhead."
"Hey." His voice was a deep, raspy grumble that only came out when he came back from taking a trip to sleepsville. And he barely lifted a palm over his mouth to contain his yawn.
"Waiting long?" Eunjae asked, pushing herself back to her feet.
Hoseok glanced at the tiny clock embedded onto the face of the television's cable box and shook his head. "Not very."
"Sorry," she grimaced. "You, uh, hungry?"
Eunjae had to forcibly not look as he slid a hand beneath the hem of his shirt to scratch at his side subconsciously. Though it did little to prevent the small sliver of golden hued skin from popping into her peripheral. She was pretty sure that her question was stupid, that it practically answered itself because why else would he be in her apartment at two in the morning?
"Yeah." Hoseok gave her a reassuring, if not tired, smile and stood from the couch, stretching his arms above his head on the way. Glancing over towards the hallway, he wet his lips. "Can we go...sleep?"
The thought of curling up next to his warmth for a second night left Eunjae with a feeling that she couldn't quite discern. But she brushed it off, buried it deep in favor of responding. "Sure."
And as she followed him down the short hall, a thought popped up into her mind.
At least her question about whether or not they'd only recharge their metaphorical batteries during the day had been answered.
Eunjae was in time out.
Well sorta, but she also didn’t want to move. Not when she was so comfortably stretched out on the couch with a book propped up in her lap. The sound of fingers typing across a keyboard prevented silence from overtaking the room. Namjoon’s hair reflected the light from his computer screen, bouncing off the headphones thrown over his hair.
It was barely even an hour ago that Eunjae had gotten kicked out of the stylist department. The boys had a performance on a television show tonight and the coordi noonas and stylist noonas were a frazzled mess. Eunjae was sent away ten minutes after arriving because they didn’t have time for her to “get in the way” or whatever it was that they’d said. She’d be insulted if she wasn’t so relieved.
Namjoon had found her listlessly wandering the halls of Producer’s Row, not knowing what to do with herself. Hoseok hadn’t been in his studio and he’d yet to answer her text, so she’d had no idea where to find him. Luckily, the leader of Bangtan had let her know that her soulmate was down in one of the dance studios with Seokjin. Eunjae had been hesitant on interrupting what must have been their practice for their upcoming performance. Namjoon, as perceptive as he was, had seen the look on her face and offered to let her hang out in his studio until Hoseok was finished.
Which was how she’d landed herself back in MonStudio, a pen pressed to her lips and a headache brewing. She’d met with Soyeon earlier that morning when she’d first gotten to the building for another Korean lesson. After about two hours of one-on-one conversation exercises, she’d been sent away with a stack of beginner level workbooks to go through.
It wasn’t that Eunjae didn’t want to learn, but multiple hours of studying would wear anyone down. Letting out a long sigh, Eunjae slid further down the couch until her head was propped up by the arm rest. She barely saved the thin book in her lap from falling to the rug.
“Having trouble?”
Starting in surprise, Eunjae glanced up to see Namjoon’s chair spun halfway around. He raised an eyebrow in amusement at the wide eyed look she sent him. One side of the headphones that'd been thrown over his head was pulled off to the side so that he could hear her response. Eunjae wondered for a moment what she'd down to garner his attention away from whatever track it was that he'd been so focused on.
“Huh?” She asked intelligently.
He nodded at the book dangling from her hand for dear life. “With your studies.”
“Oh.” She pouted unconsciously. “Just taking a break. Too much studying gives me a headache.”
"I can understand that." Namjoon slid his headphones down to hook around his neck. "Breaks are always good."
"You sound like you're in need of one." It was Eunjae's turn to raise an eyebrow now.
"Yeah, something like that," Namjoon chuckled, running a hand through his slightly disheveled hair.
She rearranged the book to rest somewhere tucked between the couch cushions and made herself more comfortable. "What have you been working on? If you don't mind me asking of course."
"Nah, I don't mind." He stared over at his computer screen like it held the answers the the universe. "I'm working on my mixtape."
"Your own?" Eunjae's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. That was news to her. At Namjoon's nod of affirmation, she sat up a little straighter. "How far along is it?"
Namjoon pursed his lips thoughtfully, dimples indenting his cheeks. "Not very. I have some of the instrumentals done and some lyrics, but it's nowhere near complete."
Eunjae hummed. "Huh. I didn't know you were making a mixtape."
Gently rotating back-and-forth in his chair, he gave her a look that she wasn't sure how to decipher. "Hoseok is working on one too."
That would explain why he was in his studio so much at least. During the handful of times that Eunjae had met him there to sate their hunger away from prying eyes, she'd walked in to find him studiously clicking away at his computer. He'd always dropped whatever it was that he was working on to spend time with her so she hadn't really though much of it.
Why he hadn't told her that he was working on his own mixtape, she wasn't sure, but she couldn't really hold it against her. Some people could be very private about their art and Hoseok may not feel completely comfortable with her yet, which was something that Eunjae couldn't fault him for.
"Speaking of," Namjoon began, bringing Eunjae's attention back to the present. "How're things going with you? You adjusting well? I feel like we haven't really gotten the chance to talk on-on-one."
The memory of the night she'd broken down in the shower flashed through her mind, but she metaphorically brushed it off with a nonchalant shrug. "Fine I guess."
"You guess?" He questioned, a playful lilt to his voice.
She snorted. "Yes, fine. Everyone's been nice."
"That's good to hear." He leaned back into his chair. "Moving to a new country can be pretty overwhelming, especially when you throw a soulmate into the mix."
He could say that again.
"But," Namjoon continued thoughtfully, "at least we can learn how to handle things the next time one of us gets a soulmate."
Eunjae took in the way his mouth quirked as his dark eyes traced some invisible shape into the carpet at his feet. How he was slightly slouched down in his chair and the small furrow between his eyebrows and asked the question onto tip of her tongue before she could think to stop it. "Is that something that you'd want? To find your soulmate?"
He hummed, a deep flatlined sound that didn't give away his agreement or disagreement. "Yes? No? Maybe? I don't know. Not that I think soulmates are bad or anything."
His eyes flickered up to meet hers to make sure that he hadn't accidentally offended her. At her encouraging nod, he swiped a hand down his face. "Maybe when things die down and we're not all so famous. Getting to know someone with our hectic schedules isn't easy, as you probably know. I mean the thought of a soulmate is nice, but the timing for me right now wouldn't be so great."
"In the future then," Eunjae said it more as a statement than a question. "What do you think they'd be like?"
That brought a small, pensive smile to his full lips and his eyes traced the rug again. "I used to think about it a lot when I was younger, but not so much lately. I'd hate to set expectations because who really knows? But I'd like to think that if I do end up meeting them, they'd be kind."
"I'm sure they would be." And she meant it. While Eunjae may not have known Namjoon long personally, what she did know was that he was an old soul. Someone who put others before himself always. Fate would do nothing if not give him someone who would cherish that.
He cleared his throat before finding her gaze. "We'll see."
None of them spoke about the fact that he may never see. That he could live his whole life without ever meeting his soulmate. That both she and Hoseok had been lucky to find one another out of the other 7.5 billion people that inhabited the planet. There was a reason why the statistical likelihood of finding one's other half was so small.
"Any other questions?" Namjoon changed the subject with a lighthearted smile.
"Mm, just one," Eunjae grinned.
"What is it?"
"Can I hear what you've made so far?" She nodded at his computer, which had long since put itself into sleep mode.
Huffing a laugh, Namjoon spun back around in his chair and shook the mouse to wake the computer up. "Sure. But just warning you, none of these tracks are final yet."
“It’s not even that bad, stop pouting.”
Eunjae dropped the recently colored strand of hair to send a glare at Soyeon. Unfortunately, the woman was too focused on keeping the car in its lane to pay any attention to her charge. “Says you. I haven’t been a brunette since I was in high school.”
Narrowing her eyes, Eunjae examined her new hairstyle in the sun visor’s mirror. She’d been forced to dye her once silver tresses to a boring dark brown. When she’d met Soyeon a few hours ago, the woman had informed her that according to whatever stupid handbook employees were required to follow, unnatural hair colors weren’t allowed. And since Eunjae was technically employed by BigHit with her fabricated internship, she had to abide by the rules.
Which meant ruining her hair. Miles had spent an unfathomable amount of time coloring it and when she’d texted him the news at the salon, he’d practically had an aneurysm. She couldn't exactly blame him since he'd been the only one who'd been allowed to touch her hair since he'd first learned how to hold a flat iron.
"Well think of it like this," Soyeon spoke while she merged off of the freeway. "At least now you won't stick out like a sore thumb. The less people question you, the better off everyone is in the long run."
"I guess," Eunjae mumbled begrudgingly. Her tutor was right, but that didn't mean that she had to like it.
Eunjae turned her attention from the mirror to stare out of the passenger side window. The sun was getting ready to drop low beyond the horizon soon, however the day was far from over. Soyeon looked at the girl from the corner of her eye. "So, ground rules."
Raising a brow in curiosity, Eunjae turned to stare at Soyeon's side profile. "Ground rules for what?"
"For tonight. There's some things we need to go over before we get there." Bangtan was attending their first performance of the new comeback at Music Bank in three hours and Eunjae had to shadow Tiffany for the night. Which would have been exciting, if she wasn't so nervous that she'd mess something up.
"Okay." Eunjae's tone came out hesitant.
"This is coming from the top," Soyeon pointed a finger at the roof of the car. "AKA, from Bang Si-Hyuk himself. Basically, you can't hang around the boys at all, under any circumstances. They should be getting the same spell as you right now so don't think that this is just for you. If you're caught, the staff would absolutely eat that up and rumors would spread faster than butter on toast."
Eunjae made a face at the strange analogy, but nodded her head in understanding.
"Also," the woman continued. "Hands off your soulmate unless you're helping him with his wardrobe, whether you're in the safety of the fitting room or not. None of the staff have been informed of the connection between the two of you and it's up in the air right now on when or if they will be.
"While all of them have had to sign a basic NDA at the beginning of their contracts, that doesn't always stop gossipers unfortunately. For all shows in the near future, you'll be hitching a ride there with the rest of the coordi noonas in order to avoid suspicion on why you get special treatment by riding separately."
Eunjae trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, mind reeling. Sure, she knew that there were going to be some things that she would or wouldn't be allowed to do, but she hadn't prepared for how strict the rules would be. The whole reason she was given the internship in the first place was so that her and Hoseok could "refuel" during their upcoming tour.
If she could barely even breathe the same air as him, how was that supposed to work? What good would fleeting touches do in the face of staving off hunger? Hell, it took at least an hour of constant touching to even begin to feel sated. Was she supposed to stay away from him for the whole tour, only sustaining herself with barely-there brushes against his skin?
She didn't voice her concerns, only hummed in agreement when Soyeon gave her a questioning glance. It wasn't exactly her place to complain since the company had already done so much for her. Though that did little to take her away from the thoughts that played on a constant loop once Soyeon turned her attention back to the road. The rest of the drive passed by in a blur. Eunjae barely recognized the building they pulled into the back parking lot of Music Bank.
Cars were scattered throughout the spaces and vans with deeply tinted windows took up a whole row near the entrance doors. Once the engine was cut, Soyeon escorted her through the double doors and passed the check-in desk for staff where she received a badge to wear around her neck. The room that Eunjae was led to was far down the exceedingly long hallway.
None of the boys were present yet, which wasn't all too surprising since there was still a while to go until they needed to take the stage. The greenroom wasn't incredibly big, but Eunjae supposed that space wasn't exactly necessary when the boys were just meant to be in and out. Their show was going to be recorded live, so they'd only need to perform it once instead of the multiple amount of times that a prerecorded one would need.
Bangtan weren't the only ones who were taking the stage, which was something Eunjae had noticed when she was being shown to the greenroom. She'd never been backstage at a show before, television or otherwise, and it'd felt a little odd. Getting to see what went on beyond the t.v. screen was like pulling the curtain off the illusion.
Out in the halls, staff from multiple different entertainment industries passed each other, pushing clothes racks or speaking into the tiny earpieces hooked around their ears. Much like the stylist department at BigHit except a while lot more crowded and a lot louder. Eunjae had yet to see a famous group wandering around, but she'd been able to spot some familiar names on temporary signs plastered to the sides of greenroom doors.
Safely inside BTS' room, Eunjae greeted the few coordi noonas that she knew by name and shuffled across the busy room to find Tiffany. There was a flat screen television mounted on one of the walls, but it was off. And a few leather couches were pushed up against the wall opposite the overly long vanity with seven chairs already lined up in preparation. Supplies were set neatly in front of each, some of the noonas who would be doing the boy's makeup setting up their stations.
According to Tiffany, who'd assigned Eunjae the low-risk task of organizing the clothes rack with stage outfits, the boys would be arriving in an hour or so. The news would have been a relief to her slightly grumbling hunger if it weren't for the fact that she wouldn't even be able to touch her own damn soulmate. All she could do was hope that Hoseok was doing fine from the short hour they'd been able to squeeze earlier in the day.
Insane.
That was the first word that came to Eunjae's mind when she came stumbling back into the room. Apparently someone had forgotten a bag full of accessories that were supposed to be worn tonight, so she'd had to run out to one of the three vans that belonged to Big Hit to hunt it down. Which was a pain in and of itself since it was dark outside and all of the vans lined up in the lot looked the exact same. Add in the fact that the bag had been hidden, tucked beneath the middle row of seats in the last van she checked, and you got a very flustered Eunjae.
She had no clue how long she'd been out there searching, but by the time she got back to the greenroom, the boys were already in their stylist's chairs getting their makeup done. Remembering the stupidly strict rules, Eunjae didn't spare them a glance. Which also meant she missed the brief look of surprise that flickered across Hoseok's face when he looked up and caught her reflection in the mirror.
Even if it weren't for the no-contact rule, she wouldn't have been able to hang out with them even if she'd wanted to. Mostly because the dressing room was a flurry of activity that passed by so fast that Eunjae barely even noticed the time. And because of course, Tiffany had decided to help get Hoseok ready herself instead of letting Eunjae assist. Which only served in making her dislike her all the more.
If she was going to be like that throughout the whole tour, then how the hell was Eunjae going to be able to be around Hoseok at all? Hopefully the company would decide in favor of disclosing their soulmate connection, otherwise what was the point? It would just do more harm than good.
It wasn't even until the boys had left to take the stage that Eunjae actually got to take a break from the fluster of activity. The rest of the staff were either beginning to pack up their things or taking the time to sit down and relax a little bit. Someone had turned the television in the room on, so everyone could watch the performances.
Luckily by being backstage, Eunjae didn't have to fight to see over anyone out in the crowd of audience members. She was seated on one of the couches next to a coordi noona who had introduced herself a week ago as Yoona. She was a kind, older woman with long dark hair and perfect, flawless skin. While she didn't speak a lot of English, she had still tried her best to make Eunjae feel included.
On the television, she watched as the opening slow-yet-upbeat track started up. This was the first time that the title track of Bangtan's upcoming album was going to air and Eunjae would be lying if she said that she wasn't excited to hear it. The actual album release wasn't going to be for another two weeks, with the title track being dropped sometime around midnight tonight.
Just because she knew them in person, didn't make Eunjae any less of an ARMY.
The stage was bright, encompassed by pink and purple lights. Each one of the boys had been dressed in a multicolored outfit consisting of a black, red, and blue color palette. While each of them looked good, she had a difficult time tearing her eyes off of her soulmate. Off of the way his skin glistened so prettily beneath the stage lights. And how perfectly in-sync he moved his body with the rest of them.
Confidence practically bled from his pores and he commanded the stage each and every time he took the center. Eunjae watched their live performances whenever she'd gotten the chance to, but there was something different about now knowing them that made it different. Made her feel different in a way that she couldn't quite put her finger on each time the camera tracked her soulmate dancing his way across the stage.
All three minutes and forty-four seconds that Bangtan spent performing passed by way too quickly. And before she knew it, they were finished and the television was cutting to commercial. Luckily, they'd been the last group to perform, so no one had to wait another few hours until the awards for the night were announced. Though it wasn't like Eunjae would have been able to watch who won anyway because she was put back to work the moment their performance was over.
She was too busy helping to load up the vans with the numerous boxes that had been packed back up to even get to see the boys. At least things weren't as hectic after the show like they'd been beforehand, but that didn't make it any less tiresome. The only thought that kept Eunjae going was that in less than an hour, she'd be back within the confides of her own apartment. Maybe then she'd be able to congratulate the boys on the win she knew that they were sure to secure.
It wasn't until she was staring out the car window on the drive back that she recognized exactly what it was that she'd felt both watching Hoseok perform. Her eyes widened, breath stilling in her throat. Oh shit.
She had a crush on her soulmate.
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Boy with Hope: Lavender - Chapter Two
Summary: Severely depressed and addicted to alcohol, you had given up entirely on life. Your passion was gone, your friends had left you and you found yourself completely alone. As you closed your eyes for the last time, the smell of lavender wafted through your nose and a boy with purple wings appeared above you.
Genre: Angst, Romance, Fantasy
Pairings: Angel Hoseok x Reader
Warnings: Language, Depression, Alcoholism, Future Smut
Word Count: 2105
⤎Previous
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You did it.
You're dead.
You're dead, you're dead, you died, you're dead.
That was the only explanation, because seriously, gorgeous men with beautiful smiles don't just appear in your room, cook you breakfast and heal you with their magic hands. And they most certainly don't sprout enormous, sparkly purple wings from their backs. That shit only happens in romantic fantasy movies and you're movie genre was most certainly a mix of angst and horror. Magical stuff doesn't happen in those kinds of movies.
Yes, being dead was the only logical explanation.
This is what you wanted right? To be dead.
Life had been so dark, the pain so unbearable, you could barely walk through it each day. Everything you did was to alleviate some of the anguish: the drinking, the drugs, but it was never enough. You had needed peace. Now, finally, for once in your life you had gotten what you wanted--you should be happy!--so you didn't understand why, instead, you felt so... empty.
"I can't believe it..." You whispered, clutching your arm for some kind of support. "I actually did it, I actually--"
"Wait, no!" Hoseok started, grabbing your arms with his big, warm hands. "That's not what I--"
"And this--" You angled your face to meet his eyes. "This must be my punishment!"
The orange-haired man searched your face frantically for some kind of answer to what you meant. "I'm sorry, what are you talking about?"
Laughing shakily, your expression fell blank. "You know, my punishment. In Hell."
Hoseok's head cocked to the side as he observed you, curiously waiting for you to provide some kind of followup to your statement. When you gave none, he huffed, trying to hide his exasperation. "I don't think I understand Y/N. How is sending an angel to help you a form of punishment from Hell?"
"No you see, that's just it!" You huffed back, prying his hands off of your arms and thrusting them back and away from you. "You say you're here to help me, and maybe, maybe, that's true. But sooner or later, you're gonna realize."
Hoseok sat back, leaning against his elbows. "Realize?"
"That I'm unhelpable." Your voice dropped so low it was barely a whisper as you averted your stare to your hands clasped in your lap. "Just like everyone else did."
A silence fell across the room of your tiny apartment, the air growing thick with a tense energy that dropped low on both your shoulders. Hoseok's sparkly eyes narrowed to slits as he watched you closely. You could hear the soft breathing blow through your noses as you busied your gaze on the silver cross that rose and fell with each movement of the angel's chest.
Slowly, Hoseok broke the silence. "Y/N. I guarantee you're still very much alive." The serious tone mixed with the stern stare he fixed you with had you looking up to meet his face. His expression was soft and smooth, but his eyes twinkled with sincerity. Considering his next words, he continued. "But you should know, it was very difficult to bring you back after all those pills you swallowed. I tried to take away the pains of the aftermath, but it looks like it's going to take much more time for the effects to completely go away." He paused again. "And then there's still the withdrawal period. That, I can't take away."
Oh.
Withdrawal.
You were so caught up in the action that you hadn't even stopped to think about that.
According to Hoseok, you had been asleep for two days, and usually withdrawal can kick in within thirty minutes of sobriety, especially for someone who had become so reliant as you had. Symptoms are usually worse at night--something to do with your brain getting sleepy--but with just the mention of withdrawal you could feel some of them begin to rear their ugly heads. Muscle pains, racing heart beat, the sweats...
You'd become painfully conscious of them now.
As if sensing your awareness, Hoseok sighed. "You're going to have to go through them without my magic, even the hallucinations... I'm sorry. But--" He flashed you a beautiful, reassuring smile as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. "--you don't have to go through it alone."
A new realization dawned on you. You hadn't considered that either. That all of this was just a-- "Hallucination..."
Hoseok blinked. "What?"
You laughed a little, suddenly feeling stupid for believing any of this magical nonsense. "This is all just some fucked up hallucination. Those floating lights weren't real, those wings weren't real. You're not real."
"That's not--"
"Man. I really did a number on my brain this time. I mean, I can't believe I fell for it! Angels? Hah! What is my mind going to mess me up with next?" You yammered.
"Y/N, please just---"
"Hahaha, oh my god. I've been talking to a hallucination this entire time!” The speed of your voice was picking up as you went on, the words meshing together in an incoherent babble. “I guess I've had hallucinations before, but they've never talked to me. I must be going crazy.” Your eyelids became extremely wide. “That's it, I'm crazy! I'm totally and completely cray--"
"Ok! Let me just stop you there!" Hoseok interjected strongly, placing a firm hand on your knee and bringing you out of your downward spiral. You immediately snapped your attention to him, the look on his face making you gulp. It was dead serious, lips pursed into a thin line and ivory skin so smooth that not a laugh-line nor dimple was visible. "Let's get something straight.” He held up one finger next to his cheek. “One. You're not dead. Two.” He added a second digit. “You're not crazy... don't ever say you're crazy in front of me again. And three." He held up three fingers, this time in front of your face. "This is not a hallucination. Me... this..." Placing a hand on your shoulder, he looked you square in the eye, the silver chains around his wrists dipping cool against your skin. "Is real."
For a few moments you both just sat there, staring at each other for the thousandth time in one morning. It was like he had you in a trance with those deep chocolate eyes, so it took all you had in you to tear your gaze away and lean back up against the wall to steady yourself. You felt completely thrown off by his sudden change in character and it was making you feel a little woozy.
When you didn't say anything, Hoseok took your chin gently between his fingers and moved you to look at him again. The sunny smile was back on his lips. "Hey. It's going to be ok Y/N. We're going to get you through this together."
The withdrawal symptoms were more present now, and your body had begun to grow hot and cold at the same time. Little beads of sweat began to pool around your forehead and your muscles groaned in dehydration. Maybe it was from all the adrenaline you exhausted while trying to get away earlier, but you were suddenly very burnt out. And still very much in denial.
"You're not real. And I can't get through this. I don't want to get through this." Your head lulled from side to side against the white brick of your wall as you said that. You really didn't. Sobering up took a lot of discipline and work--you just wanted the easy way out and you knew exactly what you needed to get there. So with a voice barely audible, you declared. "I need a drink."
Like, you really, really, needed one.
Hoseok rubbed your shoulder in soothing circles. "Yes. I am. And no. You don't." the angel assured, then snorted softly, running a hand through his sunshine colored locks. "Man, when he said you were stubborn..."
You ignored him, the rapid thumping of your heart distracting you from anything outside of yourself. You needed to quench these symptoms, to dull the noise. You needed to be numb again, and there was only one way to do that.
“I’m sorry but, I just can’t.” You said weakly.
“Hm?” Hoseok hummed, lowering his arms to rest on each of his knees. “Can’t what?”
“I can’t do it.”
‘I can’t stay sober.’
Swallowing thickly, you pushed yourself from off the wall, first into a sitting position, and then, with Hoseok watching curiously, you forced yourself into a standing position, legs spread in the shape of a V atop the bed.
His eyes widened, realizing what you were about to do. "No, Y/N. Please! Don't!"
But it was too late.
With as much energy as you could muster, you lept over him, dodging as he made a dive to stop you, and landing on the floor, just barely keeping your balance. Your bummed knee howled in pain at the impact but you ignored it. Hallucination or not, nothing was going to get in your way. Nothing, no person, no angel, was going to stop you.
Looking over your shoulder, you stuck your tongue out at Hoseok. "Don't touch me, featherbutt! And don't try to stop me either!"
"Y/N, wait! I need to tell you--"
But you didn't waste time for him to finish. You turned on your heel and made a break for the front door, still dressed in your soiled clothes from two days ago and completely barefoot. The adrenaline was beginning to pump through your veins again, giving you that extra boost as you swung the door open and raced down the hall of your apartment complex. Your knee hurt like fucking hell, but you willed yourself to disregard the pain and keep pressing forward.
Glancing triumphantly behind you--haha! Sucker--oh shit!-- you caught a glimpse of an orange head before you collided into something firm and warm, sending you flying back onto your butt.
You winced, clenching your eyes shut at the new pain in your backside. "Goddammit!"
"Woah there. Language." A deep voice bellowed from above.
Cracking an eye open, you made a note to send your steeliest of glares at the person standing over you, but instead, you gasped. There was another good looking man with jet-black hair towering over you, a cigarette clamped between his lips and a long stream of smoke blowing from the dull orange light at the end. His face was young looking, which mixed in a shocking manner to the maturity of his profound, onyx eyes.
Goodness, he was painfully handsome.
And scary.
He was wearing a black cashmere sweater underneath a black blazer, bottomed off with loose-fit black jeans and a thick silver chain that looped through his belt. But what really caught you off guard was the array of silver jewelry glittering around his body, or, more specifically the detailed silver cross that refracted the light around his neck.
It was identical to Hoseok's.
"Oh great, there are more of you?" You glowered under your breath.
"Yoongi hyung quick! Catch her!" Hoseok called, slowing into a steady jog as he tried to catch up to you.
The man took the cigarette between his lithe, ringed fingers and flicked it off to the side, giving a heavy sigh as he fixed his eyes on you. His expression was suddenly very focused and alert, and you found yourself feeling like prey all over again. "Now where might you be going in such a hurry, princess?"
Scooching away from him, you picked yourself up off the ground and started a slow walk backwards, turning your head every few seconds to see Hoseok inching closer and closer. You didn't have the stamina to take on two of them in this state, hell, you wouldn't have had the stamina regardless, and by now your knee was throbbing in an angry rage. You had to find an opening somewhere between the two of them.
The blacked-haired man made the first move, lunging forward with his arms outstretched, attempting to restrain you but you just barely slid past him. In comparison to Hoseok, he was much shorter, which made it easier to weasel your way around his grasp. He cursed rather colorfully by your evasion and you couldn't help the victorious smirk that pulled on your lips as you continued your stampede down the hall.
And he scolded you about language.
"Fuck Hoseok, she's fast!" You heard him yell from behind you. "She's not even wearing shoes!"
"Quick hyung, after her!" Hoseok's voice replied.
Hearing their words only fueled your speed, racing down the winding staircase that led out into the alleyway and where a few steps ahead laid the mainroad. You could hear the clatter of their footsteps from above as they raced to keep up with you, and by the sound of it they hadn't quite made it to the staircase yet. You paused for a moment to catch your breath, gathering what was left of your bearings as you turned to look down the alleyway. There's a liquor store just around the corner, about three minutes by foot; somewhere you frequented on especially hard days and you most certainly considered this to be one of them.
"Y/N wait! Please!" Hoseok's voice came again, this time from the landing of your apartment complex.
But you didn't wait.
You ran.
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Next⤏
A/N
Again, completely unedited!
I hope you enjoyed this next part, the story's just heating up! I wonder if I should make the chapters longer....
#bts#BTS suga#bts jhope#bts jhope x reader#bts hoseok x reader#bts hoseok#jhope fanfic#jhope x reader#jhope x you#bts x reader#bts yoongi#jhope smut#angel hoseok#bts fanfction#bts fanfic#hoseok fanfic#reader insert#reader x hoseok#hoseok x reader#new writers corner#new writers on tumblr#new writing#hoseok x y/n#y/n#jhope x y/n#reader x bts
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God’s Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter IX
“So…” Eve began, staring at the various stands and stalls and tables with all sorts of different agendas, occasionally shifting her gaze to the people who would weave between it all.
In every sense of the word, today was, for lack of a better word, eventful.
This was most likely why, when they were gathered in the gymnasium for club sign-ups, the pair simply stood amidst the somewhat organized chaos, clueless.
“What now?” Eve pulled out the club sign-up form from her skirt pocket, thankful she hadn’t lost it in all the ruckus. “My offer still stands, I really don’t mind letting you pick the club we join.”
“I mean. I already told you earlier that I don’t really care what club we go to either way.” Lilith shrugged. She wasn’t trying to sound apathetic, but she couldn’t really remember the last time she enjoyed club time solely for it’s activities and not the friends she would do them with. “You pick.”
“Alright, we’re not gonna get anywhere with this, so how about a compromise?”
“I’m listening,” Lilith chuckled. Of course Eve would be the type to suggest something like that.
The girl in question blushed at the sound, but fought to gather her thoughts and continue.
“You can tell me the clubs you don’t like and I’ll do the same. After we narrow down the list, we can settle on a club that we both like, or at least a club that on of us can tolerate.”
“Okay, but let me tell you now, there are a lot of clubs I don’t like.”
It was Eve’s turn to laugh, her hand automatically coming to cover her mouth as she grinned and giggled.
“Tell me anyway.”
“No music club,” Lilith said, right off the bat. “I’m a mediocre singer and I don’t want to spend two or three hours a week singing hymns.”
“Reasonable enough.” Eve recalled being given a small flier when they entered, the colourful paper listing all available clubs and emptied her pockets once more in search of it before crossing out the words “music club” with a pen she had found while looking for the paper. “Anything else?”
“No home economics. You know why.”
Eve just nodded an drew a line across it.
She was doing this to make up for what she did, not draw attention to it.
“And lastly,” Lilith said, voice tinted with humor as she tried to lighten the mood, somewhat guilty when she saw Eve’s face fall when she mentioned home economics, “no math club. ‘Cause I’m not a nerd.”
The girl succeeded, getting a tiny, genuine laugh from Eve that made her heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wing whenever it graced her ears.
“It’s fine, I’m bad at math too.”
Lilith visibly perked up at the words, the teasing grin Eve had so missed making a comeback at long last, “I never said I was bad at math. I’m pretty good at it, actually. I just don’t like doing it more than I have to.”
“Really?” Eve joked, displaying a mock-disbelief. Lilith was no idiot, though judging by her work ethic when it came to CLE, Eve couldn’t help but make a few assumptions. “What score did you get on the practice test a few days ago then?”
“Ninety-four percent.”
At that Eve’s eyes grew wide as saucers. That was better than she had gotten, and, more surprisingly, it was better than what Mary had gotten, ninety percent, an A minus that paled in comparison to Lilith’s A.
“Oh. That’s neat.” What could she say in response to that?
Fortunately, she didn’t have to struggle to say more, as Lilith returned the question to her.
“What did you get on the test.” Lilith wasn’t the type to gloat, at least not to a person she liked, but the thought of Eve thinking her a fool or a failure wasn’t the kind of image she wanted to project either.
“Eighty-seven…” She stared at the floor in shame, suddenly enamored in the scuff marks a muddy sneaker had left on the floor, shame flooding her face in the form of blood, her cheeks taking on a soft pink for different reasons now. Who could have left this here? A student who had forgotten to clean the soles of her shoes? A janitor, maybe?
Lilith couldn’t help but melt at the sight, immediately speaking to comfort the girl.
“Hey, come on. There’s no need to be embarrassed, that’s a pretty good grade, especially coming from someone who says they’re bad at math!” She clasped Eve’s shoulder and gave a gentle, encouraging squeeze, trying to get her to look up from the floor. “That’s like, what, a solid B? A B plus even?”
When that didn’t work, she slid her hand down to Eve’s and ran the pad of her thumb over the soft skin before giving another, more tender squeeze. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you when I asked that. If you want, I can help you review for the next test?” She put on a smile and tried to sound optimistic, mind running a mile a minute as she tried to figure out what to say next.
“There’s always room for improvement!” Lilith said, stealing one of Paula’s lines in the rare occasion that Joan flubbed a test or lost a game. She’d have to thank her for that later.
Meanwhile, Eve hoped that Lilith wouldn’t be able to feel her pulse through her wrist, the pink hue her face took on having faded, only to return with a vengeance when Lilith opted to hold her hand, the way the girl soothed her thumb over her knuckles nearly sending her into cardiac arrest, the momentary squeeze stealing the air from her lungs and running for the hills, if only for an instant before she mustered up enough breath to speak.
“You’d really do that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“Are you kidding me?” Lilith grinned, incredulous. “Of course I’d help! With a score like that, there isn’t even all that much to do.”
The way Eve looked at her when she said those words, amber eyes adoring and brimming with marvel as it were, Lilith couldn’t bring herself to look away, it was like she was lost and slowly, willingly sinking into the entrancing, honeyed hue that was Eve’s eyes.
She could hardly handle being the subject of the girl’s gratitude-filled gaze, her heart clenching tenderly when Eve smiled at her, because of her, soft and sweet, dimples appearing on her rosy cheeks, unaware of the near-painful longing that welled up in Lilith’s chest.
In the split second silence, Lilith wondered whether it was for better or worse that Eve didn’t know how her heart ached whenever she made her smile, knowing that Eve, kind person she was, would never want to hurt her, even in the most gentle way, the soft tightening of her chest Lilith herself would sometimes even long for.
“Anyway,” Eve said, breaking the quiet that had settled over them, “I really can’t join the art club, so that’s out of the question. My drawing skills are literally non-existent.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah! The best I can do are stick figures, bee doodles, and really loopy flowers.”
They scratched that off the list and began roaming around, Eve unsure of what clubs were a hard no for her but wanting to narrow down the list further.
“Oh, definitely no debate club.” She said out the moment she saw their stand, stopwatch, hardwood podium and all.
“Okay, but why?” Lilith took the list from her and crossed it out, skimming over it in search of clubs the both of them could enjoy.
“They’re sca-“
“Lilith!”
A girl with shoulder-length black hair swishing slightly with every step came up from behind them and hugged Lilith with a fierce grip, nearly making the both of them fall to the ground in the process, her long-suffering partner, local gossip girl, Margaret, merely trailing a few paces behind her, not wanting to be associated with the girl who managed to make at least eleven heads turn towards them.
“Joan told me everything this morning. Where is she?” The girl let go, swinging her head around frantically and craning her neck in an exaggerated search. “I’m gonna beat this chick’s ass if it’s the last thing I do!”
Finally, Margaret came closer and tried to put a stop to whatever was unfolding. “Swearing is against the rules, Julia. I can report you for that.”
The girl, Julia, apparently, turned to look at her partner, joyful demeanor fading in an instant.
“So is make-up and cheating, but you don’t see me yapping about it, do you?”
That shut Margaret up effectively, cheeks probably red with indignance under her foundation.
“Anyway, where is the bitch? I’ll-“
“Okay, before you finish that sentence, I think you should know that the girl you’re calling a bitch is right beside me. Right now.” Lilith said, grabbing her by the shoulders and making her face Eve.
Julia looked at her.
She looked at Julia.
“Hi.”
“Oh shit. Hey…” They stared at each other, a split second of tension filled silence passing between them. “I’m not taking back what I said though, you’re a bitch. I mean seriously, I get not being gay but did you have to- OW!”
Lilith’s elbow met Julia’s rib, harshly.
“When did Joan say all this?” She sighed. The last thing she needed right now was someone making Eve feel worse after everything that happened today, especially now that they were just starting to patch things up and talk free of any awkwardness.
“I already told you, she said all that this morning. We sat next to each other in CLE and passed notes while Sister Jane wasn’t looking.”
“Julia, you’re fucking nuts and I love you for that,” Lilith sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, “but now is really not the time. Go ask Joan or Paula to catch you up on things, they should be around here somewhere. We’re busy looking for a club. Until they tell you what happened earlier, you can not call Eve anything except Eve.”
“Oh wow, okay. I must have missed something big if you’re defending the girl who made you sob so hard, you almost-”
“The details aren’t important! Besides, you weren’t there, so you don’t know what happened.”
Julia raised a brow at the girl, shutting up to help her save face, but going in for one last tease before she went looking for Paula to see the whole picture, “I literally just said that Joan told me everything, but okay.” She put her hands up in a sort of surrender. “Say what you want, babe! I’ll get the truth out of you the next time we get wasted anyways, so yeah!” And with that she turned to leave before, rather impulsively, Eve called out to her.
“What club did you join?”
“You’re really gonna look at me and not immediately assume I’m in the softball club? You offend me, Eve. I mean really! You know what they say about softball. It’s the sport of my people!”
The blonde merely stood in silence, absolutely dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing like a fish yet not a syllable leaving her lips.
Julia cackled, tossing her head back and ruffling her soft curls. “Oh God, she doesn’t know?” She asked Lilith, her eyebrows raised so far up that no one watching would be surprised if they receded even further back to join the hair on her head. “You really know how to pick ‘em, sweetheart!”
She walked away, giggling and giving them – well, more Lilith than Eve – finger guns all the while.
“Okay, I’m just going to ask. What was that whole thing about softball about?”
At this, Lilith herself couldn’t help but laugh. “Basically, it’s kinda a stereotype that, and this isn’t a thing we made up, lesbians play softball.”
Eve’s look of confusion turned to bafflement turned to a somewhat exasperated and incredulous amusement. “That makes no sense, but I’m going with it anyway. How did that even start?”
“I actually don’t know, but we went along with it too, cause why the fuck not? You know?” Lilith shrugged and they continued walking again. “There’s probably a bit of truth in there somewhere. It’s how Joan and Paula got together, so there’s that! And Julia has an ex that used to be a member.”
Eve took the list back from her while she was distracted, eyes quickly scanning over it to see if Lilith had crossed anything out while it was in her possession. “I’m assuming there’s a story behind that?”
“Yup!” She snatched the flier away from Eve once more, holding it high above her head when the girl tried to get it again. “But not one you get to hear. Not yet.”
She huffed at that. Eve, despite already standing on her toes, the four inch height difference between them made it so she couldn’t get the list back from Lilith.
“Okay then. But one last question.”
“Yeah?”
“Sweetheart? Babe?” Eve asked, a twinge of jealousy in her. Granted, she had no right to be, at least in her own mind she didn’t. She wasn’t even supposed to be feeling anything for Lilith other than disdain, but what could she do? Her only consolation was the fact she’d yet to act on said emotions.
Technically.
Eve tried to justify what she could, mind jumping from hoop to hoop, connecting loose strings, drawing lines between dots that were barely there. Earlier wasn’t anything akin to love. It was just a friend taking care of a friend.
Yes.
“Oh, that? Yeah, Julia calls everyone that, really. It’s nothing personal.” Lilith felt delusional. Were her feeling for Eve so strong as to warp her mind and affect her hearing, going so far as to imagine Eve’s voice with a pang of envy. “If you get on her good side, she’ll probably call you something too. Not what she called you earlier, though.”
A wave of relief washed over the blonde… followed immediately by guilt for feeling said relief.
It was nothing another round of mental gymnastics couldn’t fix.
The only reason she was relieved was because Lilith not being in a relationship meant that she wasn’t beyond saving.
Of course.
“I hope so, too.” Eve said. They turned to walk down a different aisle, about forty-five minutes left for them to find and join a club.
The pair strolled between stalls leisurely, narrowing down the list bit by bit, encircling the ones they had taken a particular liking to, chatting about clubs.
“The gardening club seems cool.” Lilith suggested, looking at their small stall decorated with small, origami flowers, the girls who ran it not having the heart to pluck what they had grown just yet. “It’s outside so I get some fresh air and it’s no sport, so you won’t have to strain yourself like you did in gym. Whaddya think of it?”
She looked over at Eve, only to see her frowning, a mix of disappointment and contempt in her eyes.
“I’d love to join, but I’m not allowed. My mom doesn’t like me gardening.” Her frown turned into a pout, eyes growing glassy with frustrated tears that had been building up for nearly a decade now. “She made me stop when I was eight because my hands were getting rough…”
“Use me.”
“What?”
“Use me as an excuse. Tell her I made you join it.”
Her words were temptation, the apple offered to Eve by the serpent.
Lilith held the sign-up slip and the red pen out to her, the folded paper an open invitation to rebellion. She wouldn’t force Eve, however, wanting this decision, this sin, to be hers and hers alone, the girl refusing to even write her own name on the paper.
Eve could feel the fifth commandment ringing in her ears, as the Eve before her knew she was defying god.
“Honour thy father and thy mother.”
And yet, Eve could also feel the dirt between her fingers and under her nails, the weight of a trowel in her hands, the sun beating on her back through the gaps in the leaves of their oak tree, the scent of the earth and the flowers carried by the breeze.
The nagging voice in her ears faded and morphed to the gentle buzzing of the bees and the high-pitched chirping of the birds.
Eve took the form and filled it up.
Eve took the apple and ate of it.
______________________________
Taglist: @anon-nom-nom95 @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @i-wanna-be-a-rock @extrabitterbrain @gaypeaches @phillyinthebathroom @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @pirateofblood
#Lilith and Eve#my writing#writing#writer#writers#writers of tumblr#writeblr#books#books and libraries#pride#gay pride#lesbian pride#wlw pride#lgbt#religious imagery#religion#christianity#religion tw#christianity tw#tw religion#tw christianity#religious trauma#literature#gay literature#lesbian literature#sapphic literature#wlw romance#lesbian romance#gay romance#romance
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mdzs daemon au pt 2
When they arrived at the Unclean Realm, Nie Huaisang took one look at his brother’s stormy expression and summoned his most guileless grin.
Standing in the middle of the courtyard, framed by a pillar and his massive bear daemon, Nie Mingjue looked impressively intimidating.
Huaisang, however, had long since decided to never be intimidated by his brother. It would do awful things to his ego. Cheerfully, he shouted, “Da-ge!”
At his side, Meng Yao mumbled, “Young Master Nie, please don’t antagonize your brother.”
“How did your studies in Cloud Recesses go?” Nie Mingjue asked, tone flat in a way that meant I already know exactly how deep in shit you are.
Huaisang’s smile faltered, and he flicked his fan open to flutter it anxiously. “Ah, well, you know—”
“Do I?” Nie Mingjue demanded, eyes glinting in warning.
Nie Kun stood up, raising her head to look over Huaisang and the disciples behind him. She was larger than average for a female moon bear, her shoulders nearly level with Nie Mingjue’s.
Huaisang ignored her. If she was really angry, then she’d get up onto her hind legs. Nobody wanted to see her on her hind legs. “I did better than last year, at least!”
Nie Mingjue scoffed. The other Nie disciples ignored the brothers’ argument with the ease of long practice. “Maybe you’d pass if you bothered to carry your saber.”
“Da-ge,” Huaisang complained. A-Min scuttled over his shoulder, slipping through his hair so that she could sit against the soft skin of his neck.
A-Sang, she urged, Xichen-ge’s gift.
Oh, right!
He grabbed the box held by the Nie disciple to his left with a bright smile and a warm thank you and then ran up the steps to his brother. Meng Yao dismissed the Nie disciples with a dimpled smile and a gracious bow before following him. Nie Mingjue’s expression darkened as if he was about to yell some more, but Huaisang shoved the box into his hands. “Xichen-ge asked me to give this to you.”
Immediately, the rage flew from Nie Mingjue’s face. “You should’ve told him not to bother.” But he was already moving to open the box and Nie Kun was craning her neck over his shoulder to look.
Huaisang didn’t bother looking. He’d already peeked on the way over. Of course Lan Xichen would gift his brother the best blade maintenance kit in the world. It was in Nie green and probably ludicrously expensive. Without missing a beat, he added, “Xichen-ge also said he misses you and that you should visit more.”
For a second, Nie Mingjue’s face went terribly soft. But then he snorted and rolled his eyes, reaching out to cuff Huaisang lightly on the head. “Don’t lie.”
Huaisang just shrugged. “I’m sure he’s thinking it.”
“Where’s A-Min?” Nie Mingjue’s eyes flicked over Huaisang’s shoulder. Normally, A-Min would have already shifted into a finch to flutter about both their heads and chirp.
Huaisang fidgeted with his fan. “Oh. Um.” He flashed a smile that was only slightly self-deprecating. “She settled.”
Nie Mingjue’s eyes widened. “When?”
“A week ago! I would’ve written if it’d happened earlier.”
Nie Mingjue waved a hand dismissively. “As if. Let me see.”
Wordlessly, Huaisang reached up to his collar. A-Min scuttled into his hand and sat very still as Huaisang held her out. Neither his brother or his brother’s daemon moved, dark eyes locked on the tiny brown spider in Huaisang’s palms.
Huaisang resisted the urge to fidget.
Finally, Nie Mingjue grunted, “She's very small.”
Huaisang flinched at the note of disappointment in his voice. “Da-ge.” A-Min stretched out her legs as if that would make her bigger.
Nie Kun leaned forwards, her brown muzzle drifting just above A-Min. Huaisang could read no judgement in her dark gaze.
Meng Yao stepped forwards, head bowed deferentially, “If I may?” Nie Kun obligingly stepped back, and Nie Mingjue nodded. Meng Yao didn’t bother to repeat Meng Zhu’s spiders are lucky line; Nie Mingjue didn’t care about things like that. “Spiders are small, but they’re still predators.”
“Underhandedly,” Nie Mingjue protested, “With traps.”
“But she’s small enough that an enemy won’t be able to easily target her, which is a benefit on any battlefield.” Meng Yao’s smile was warm, but Huaisang could recognize it as appeasing rather than genuine.
Nie Mingjue’s lips twisted into a wry smile, and his eyes flicked towards Nie Kun. She tilted her head, something silent flashing between them.
Huaisang held his breath.
Nie Kun and Meng Yao always had been the best at talking his brother down.
Nie Mingjue pressed his lips together and looked down at A-Min, who shifted nervously back and forth. “Go unpack your things,” he ordered, pulling away, “Meng Yao, come with me. I need you to look over something.”
Nie Huaisang and Meng Yao shared an exasperated glance before hurrying to obey. Huaisang had known, of course, that his brother wouldn’t be thrilled with A-Min’s settled form. The lack of a real response was infinitely better than whatever he’d expected, but it still made him feel small and unseen.
We are small, A-Min said, reasonably, Give him time.
---
Nie Huaisang’s feet started towards his rooms, but then he stopped. The other disciples would drop off his things for him, and it wasn’t like he actually needed to unpack right now. Decisively, he turned on his heel and strode towards the library instead.
Meng Yao found him there almost three hours later. Huaisang heard his footsteps and looked up, using the brief second before Meng Yao noticed him watching to examine his face. He wasn’t smiling, but Meng Yao rarely smiled when he wasn’t being watched. More importantly, Huaisang couldn’t see the telltale tightening around his eyes or the forced calm triggered by the worst of Nie Mingjue’s obstinance or—even worse—the nasty comments people made about his background or his daemon.
(You can’t trust a daemon you can’t see, people were fond of saying, Especially not something like a scorpion)
Satisfied that Meng Yao was in a good enough mood for teasing, Huaisang immediately threw down his book and wailed, “Meng Yao, help me, please, I’m dying—”
Meng Yao immediately sat down on the opposite side of the desk, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was his appeasing smile, the one he used when he was being watchful rather than kind. “What can I do for you, Young Master Nie?”
Huaisang scowled at him. “Nooo, you’re supposed to be all nice and sympathetic when I cry.”
Meng Yao’s smile shifted into something more genuine.
Aloud, A-Min said, “Please don’t. He doesn’t need the encouragement. Did you need something?”
Huaisang looked down and scowled at his daemon, who sat on a book of her own. “Traitor.”
“I was just going to remind Young Master Nie to bring his saber to dinner. A disciple should have brought it to your rooms.” Meng Yao looked down at the books spread over the table. From beneath the curtain of his hair, Meng Zhu emerged. “What are you two looking for?”
Huaisang groaned and slumped over the table. “I’m trying to figure out what spider we are.”
A-Min perked up when she saw Meng Zhu. The scorpion daemon was much shyer than Meng Yao, but A-Min adored her. “Meng Zhu!”
Meng Zhu gracefully made her way down Meng Yao’s sleeve and onto the table.
“Help me turn the page,” A-Min exclaimed, weaving eagerly between Meng Zhu’s legs.
Huaisang sat up, indignant. “Oh, I can’t ask for Meng Yao’s help, but you can ask for Meng Zhu’s?”
“Do you expect me to turn the page by myself?” A-Min asked, “I’m the same size as some of these characters.”
“Are not,” Huaisang mumbled.
“I don’t mind,” Meng Zhu assured. As soon as she’d grasped the page in her claws and lifted it, A-Min gleefully scuttled back onto the book to read.
Meng Yao gently picked up one of the books stacked haphazardly in a corner of the desk and opened it. A page of inky spiders appeared, all of them drawn with analytical precision. None of them matched A-Min’s mottled brown body or banded legs.
Turning the page, Meng Yao said mildly, “You should’ve looked before we left Cloud Recesses.”
Huaisang grimaced. While the library in the Unclean Realm wasn’t shabby, the library in Cloud Recesses was a work of art. He almost didn’t mind repeating another season of lessons just to get access to it again. “Help me,” he begged, staring at Meng Yao with his saddest eyes.
Meng Yao’s cheeks dimpled with his smile. “I’ll help you. There’s no need to beg.”
“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” A-Min protested weakly, because she was polite.
“Thank you,” Huaisang interrupted, because he was not.
Meng Yao just smiled and turned a page in his book.
---
Later that night, after dinner and far too many books on spiders, Huaisang went to find his brother. He didn’t bother checking his office or the training grounds; his brother had been in a good enough mood during dinner that he probably didn’t have much work at the moment or feel the need to unwind by stabbing training dummies.
As Nie Huaisang passed the disciples stationed outside his brother’s bedroom, A-Min begged, Please knock.
If he wanted to keep me out, Huaisang replied matter-of-factly, then he would have told his guards. Without another word, he threw the doors open and declared, “Da-ge, it’s me!”
“As if anybody else would just barge in here.” Nie Mingjue looked up, scowling, from where he was sitting on the ground in the middle of his room. There was a map spread over the floor and a few pages of notes, but Nie Kun was lying across from them with her chin in her paws. Nothing particularly stressful, then. Both of them looked uncharacteristically relaxed, jagged edges softened by the flickering candlelight.
“Haven’t you missed me?” Huaisang demanded.
Nie Mingjue stared at him as if the question were too stupid to answer.
Huaisang beamed when he found nothing but grudging affection in his brother’s face. There was no sign of the irritation or disappointment from earlier, although he was sure it would all come back as soon as he started skipping saber practice again. “Let’s play a game of go.”
“No,” Nie Mingjue said, because he was a coward who didn’t want to lose.
Huaisang dropped onto the ground next to his brother, sticking his lower lip out in a pout. “But, da-ge, I’ve been away for so long! I’ve been wasting away in Cloud Recesses without any entertainment—”
“Then maybe you should have studied harder,” Nie Mingjue snapped, without bite.
Huaisang pointed an accusing finger at him. “Think of it this way! Your little brother is failing for you, so you have another excuse to come to Cloud Recesses and see Lan Xichen—”
“What are you talking about?” Nie Mingjue snapped, but Huaisang saw the way Nie Kun ducked her head to hide her face in her paws.
He couldn’t help grinning broadly. “Nothing, nothing!”
Nie Mingjue squinted suspiciously at him. Huaisang blinked as innocently as he could. Finally, Nie Mingjue turned back to his maps with a huff.
Huaisang leaned over his brother’s shoulders to look; A-Min emerged from where she’d hidden in his sleeve and settled on his knuckles. “What’re you working on?”
“We’re hosting the Discussion Conference next year,” Nie Kun said, eager to change the subject.
Huaisang groaned and flopped over, his head only narrowly missing Nie Mingjue’s knee. A-Min shrieked and jumped off of him, as if he’d be so careless as to crush his own daemon. “That’s so boring! And also a whole year in the future.”
Nie Mingjue poked his shoulder, “If you’re just going to lay on my map and complain, then leave.”
Huaisang pouted, but the floor was comfortable and he didn’t want to sit up. The map shifted beneath him, and he tilted his head back to find Nie Kun sitting right behind his head. “You missed me, didn’t you?” he asked, smiling guilelessly at her.
She huffed, breath warm against his face. “Oh, A-Sang.” And then she leaned down and pressed her nose to his brow.
Huaisang froze. Her nose was as cold and wet as ever, but the soft touch was enough to send a wash of warmth through his entire body. He felt like he was five years old again, wrapped firmly in his brother’s arms. He felt small. He felt sheltered. He felt safe.
Nie Kun pulled away, but she was still close enough that Huaisang could feel the warmth emanating from her fur.
He laughed, softly. “I missed you too.”
Nie Mingjue blinked. His expression was loose and comfortable and blatantly fond in a way it rarely was. “Where’s A-Min?”
“I’m here!” A-Min scuttled into the candlelight, shifting back and forth until Nie Mingjue’s eyes caught on her. “Da-ge!”
Nie Mingjue reached down, palm up, and waited.
A-Min immediately reached out, setting her two front legs on the tip of Nie Mingjue’s finger.
Huaisang sighed as that feeling washed through him again. He instinctively threw one arm out, his hand settling over his brother’s knee.
���You’re pretty, for a spider,” Nie Mingjue said, finally.
A-Min retreated a couple inches, the same boundless affection Huaisang felt streaming across their bond. “Of course I am.”
“She’s venomous,” Nie Huaisang said, eyes locked on his brother’s face. From this angle, he could only see his profile, the candlelight outlining him in warm amber. “So she’s not just some normal spider or something. She’s dangerous.” Meng Yao had been the one to find the right book, in the end.
Nie Mingjue’s lips twitched into the smallest of grins. “Is she?” he asked. There was no condemnation or displeasure in his tone, only mild interest.
That warm feeling was back, and Huaisang ducked his head to hide his smile. “I mean, not deadly,” Huaisang said, “But she’ll definitely be able to annoy somebody.”
Nie Mingjue laughed, the sound thoughtless and unsubdued by the night’s dark. “Oh, well now I understand.”
Huaisang sat up indignantly. “Da-ge!” he cried, in a tone that meant don’t be mean to me but also I love you.
Nie Mingjue’s lips quirked into a smile. “Get off my map. Both of you.”
Huaisang immediately scrambled up, only to fall against his brother’s side and sling an arm around his waist. Nie Kun sat against Nie Mingjue’s other side, paws extended, and watched patiently as A-Min scuttled up her claw and settled in the softness of her fur.
“Don’t distract me,” Nie Mingjue warned, “I’m working.”
“Give me the seating chart,” Huaisang replied, not missing a beat, “You don’t even know half the minor sect leaders anyways.”
And he did.
------
daemons:
nhs: nie min (brown widow spider)
nmj: nie kun (moon bear)
jgy: meng zhu (giant forest scorpion)
#nie huaisang#nie mingjue#jin guangyao#mdzs#the untamed#mo dao zu shi#mdzs fanfiction#nie bros#mdzs daemon au#<click that if you want to find pt 1#theres some nielan in this sdkfjhgdf#im hoping to finish the nielan one next!#i keep changing my timelines tho#anyways ive read all the tags on the last piece and @everybody who saw what i was doing w the scorpion daemon#i see you#candlesfanfiction#more words#candleswriting#a series of increasingly terrible dinner parties
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Whatever It Takes (5/6)
Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Reader
Word Count: 2,362
Prompt: Doctor AU
Warnings: nothing! fluffy stuff!
A/N: sorry this is late again! tee hee hopefully ill be forgiven w this chapter! i was proofreading and i honestly think this is my fav chapter :) anyways enjoy! last chapter next friday!
SERIES MASTERLIST
“Where have you been for the past two days?”
You’re greeted by Dr. Abraham and Dr. Jordan as you return to the hospital later in the afternoon. Walking into your office felt like returning home after a long trip, which, is essentially what you did. You’ve never been so exhausted in your life, you never even bothered to put your heels back on, shoes hanging from the tips of your middle and ring fingers and blazer hanging around your shoulders.
“Whatever happened to our race car driver?” You ignore Dr. Abraham’s question and plop yourself down behind your desk, a deep exhale exiting your lips as you almost drool at the thought of your bed.
“She had heatstroke, like I said. She was released this morning. Did you have fun on your vacation?” Dr. Jordan sarcastically asks.
“I was actually-“
“Don’t say you were with the Avengers.” Abraham cuts you off.
“Okay, okay. I was actually in Midtown helping some rich jerk treat his son’s sniffles. The lookalike that came was one of their security beef-heads who likes the Avengers a little too much, you happy?” You retrieve your bag from the drawer in your desk that you had left behind two days ago.
Bucky escorted both you and Dr. Curtis out of the Avengers Tower, ordering a separate private car to take Dr. Curtis to the airport while he drove you back to Brooklyn himself. The car ride was nothing too special, simple flirts and teases sent back and forth amongst one another over the light radio music. You even almost came close to holding his hand. That was a couple of hours ago.
“We have a new case actually-“ Jordan begins but you wave your hand with furrowed eyebrows.
“No, no, no.” You refuse, “We’ll start this again tomorrow.” You begin to gather you bag and tug your blazer over your shoulders again, feet still bare.
“But it’s only three P.M.-“ Jordan tries to stop you but you gather your bag and shoes once more and walk towards the door anyway.
“Goodnight!” You call out as you walk out of your office, the deep sighs of your employees fading as you get farther and farther away from your office.
The walk to the elevator feels as though it takes forever, and the elevator ride itself feels as though it takes longer. Finally walking through the lobby of the hospital, you’re extremely excited for the l-o-n-g night of sleep you’re going to get when you get to your apartment. As you near the main doors, you see a figure dressed in all black sitting on one of the benches outside the doors. As your steps slow and you get closer to the door, what you suppose is a man lifts his head to look at you and they quickly stand.
“They let you out of the ice box early?” You greet Bucky as you open the door and walk outside.
“Very funny. I’m here to take you up on your offer.” Bucky says, stepping closer to meet you halfway on the sidewalk.
“You want to quit the Avengers to work for me as my personal assistant at a shitty hospital in Brooklyn?” You ask to confirm.
“No,” Bucky chuckles, “I actually meant your offer on showing you some ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’ is how you put it, I think.” Bucky clarifies, hands lifting up in air quotes.
“Oh! Um, now?” You ask, blush rising on your cheeks.
“No, you goofball, I’m trying to ask you to dinner, I wanna take you out proper.” Bucky spits out, giggles falling from his lips.
Your blush gets impossibly deeper as a shy smile grows on your face. His smile and small dimples and wrinkles around the corners of his eyes are so cute. You struggle to find a response. I mean, of course, you want to go out with him, but it’s been forever since you’ve done anything like this! I mean between going to medical school and shadowing doctors, to having your own practice for a while, to getting a job at the hospital, to working your way up to Department Head, you’ve just lost time for love over the years. What if I’m not good at sex anymore?
“Are you barefoot?” Bucky inquires after taking in your tired appearance.
You huff out a chuckle and cover your face with your one free hand. The hottest guy you’ve ever encountered wants to go out with you and you’re standing here, barefoot, and not even giving him an answer, you’re blowing this!
Bucky grabs your hand from your face and places a gentle kiss on the top of it.
“Here’s what going to happen. I’m going to drive you home like a gentleman, leave you with my number, and whenever you’re hungry, you give me a call. And I’ll be there.” Bucky reassures you.
I’m about to melt, you think. You give an affirmative nod, not being able to form proper thoughts after hearing his gentle voice soothe your nerves about his entire existence, his soft fingers rubbing small circles in your knuckles where he placed a kiss; you don’t even believe to have been so lucky to snag such a nice guy.
The both of you walk back to the car Bucky brought you in, hand in hand. Bucky lets go only to open the door for you and offer his other hand to you as you climb inside. Before he shuts the door, you hold out a hand.
“So, you’re not taking me to show me some interrogation techniques?”
Bucky can’t help but let out a scoff as he playfully pushes you the rest of the way into the car and shuts the door.
…
You wake up about sixteen hours later. Seven the next morning, to be exact. You look around your sun-lit room through your swollen and crusted eyes and realize you’re still wearing the same slacks and shirt you’ve been wearing for three days now. You let out a long sigh before pulling yourself up, muscles stretching and bones cracking the more you move your limbs.
After taking a long, hot, and well-deserved shower, you tip toe your bare feet to your kitchen.
Hmmm… cereal and a container of mushrooms. Bucky did say to give him a call if I was hungry…
“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m trying to get in contact with Aldo the Apache, please?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand that reference, sweetheart.”
The giggle that comes through the phone makes you smile so big, your cheeks hurt.
“Well, soldier, you told me to give you a call if I was hungry, and my stomach’s a-growling pretty loudly this morning.”
“Be ready in twenty minutes, sugar. I’ll take you for some food and drop you off at work after.”
“Wow, hopefully I’ll have some time to thank you for your generosity in the car.”
There’s silence over the phone and you can almost hear his blush as you catch the tiny hitch in his breathing.
“Ha, ha. I’ll see you soon, gorgeous.”
Your thoughts freeze over at the sound of that last pet name, and you hear the line click to an end. Good Lord, pull yourself together!
As you dress yourself for breakfast and work, your normal black slacks, plain shirt - light blue today, inspiration from a certain someone’s eyes, and heels. The more time that passes while you get ready, the more butterflies flutter around your stomach. It’s as though they’re restless; and every time you looked at the clock, the time only seemed to move slower. You try not to overthink things when the time shows that twenty-one minutes have passed, but those thoughts are quickly silenced at the sound of a gentle knock on your front door.
You gather your bags and head over to the front of your apartment, opening the door for Bucky, only to realize you two are accidentally matching. Light blue t-shirt that’s tight in all the right places, his nipples poking through in just the slightest. A black leather jacket dons his broad shoulders, the discolored creases show that he’s had it for a while. Tight black skinny jeans, you’re afraid the seams will burst around the thickness of his muscled thighs.
“Well, one of us is going to have to change.”
“Too bad I left my heels at home.” You let out a soft chuckle at his tease and push past him to close the door behind you.
“Not even gonna invite me inside, doll?” Bucky teases at you, leaning against the door frame as you lock the door.
“Sorry, the prostitute from last night was still asleep, figured I’d give them some privacy.” You wink at him before leading down the hallway.
Bucky takes you to a bakery cafe, not too far from the hospital. It’s still driving distance, but you wouldn’t mind taking an extra thirty minutes to walk if it meant spending more time with Bucky. He urges you to sit while he orders and you plop down in a small table in the back corner of the cafe. Soon, Bucky returns with two coffees, one smelling of vanilla and the other smelling of cinnamon. He takes a seat and pushes the sweeter smelling one towards you. The cup feels warm around your hands, heat spreading through your hands and arms and soaking your body to the core.
“And what makes you think I take my coffee so sweet?” You ask, teasing him but also craving the sweet, vanilla coffee on your tongue.
“You’re not fooling anyone. Well, maybe you’re fooling some people, but I see right through you; you’re sweeter than sugar and I can only imagine you drink coffee the same way.” Bucky flirts.
“Lucky guess.” You bring the coffee to your lips and, perhaps, the warmth is what makes the blush on your cheeks darker. Perhaps, it’s the way Bucky’s giving you heart eyes across the table. Probably the coffee.
“And cinnamon for you? Would’ve thought you take your coffee black, maybe a hint of whiskey or gasoline in the mix.”
“Very funny. Sugar was a luxury back in my day, and then I was fed out of an IV for seventy years after, so. I’ll have all the sugar and flavor I can get, thank you very much.” You both giggle and it warms your heart to see such an intimidating man, a soldier, have such an uncontrollable sweet tooth.
Bucky appreciates that the atmosphere remained open and carefree. He didn’t mean to be so casual about his past, and normally, throwing out how he was kept from solid foods for seven decades in casual conversation makes him and everyone involved just a bit uncomfortable. But you laughed. And that allowed him to laugh with you.
You and Bucky share your coffees, along with a multitude of donuts and muffins that he insisted on buying, and soon you’re sitting in the car having the saddest car ride of your life. Why are you so sensitive all of a sudden? You feel like a kid whose just left the toy store and now has to return home toy-less. All you want to do is be with Bucky. You want to talk to him, hold his hand, hug him, kiss him, and share all the sweets in the world with him. You’ll never admit it to him, but he makes your heart explode with fireworks, sparks flying from corner to corner.
Bucky pulls into a parking space close to the main doors of the hospital and puts the car in park.
“I, uh, hope you have a good day at work today.” He wishes quietly; you can sense that he doesn’t want you to leave, either.
“Hopefully it’s not too good, all those sick people have so many germs.” You retch.
Bucky smiles and looks up at you to find you staring at him already. You break the eye contact after a few seconds and reach down between your feet to grab you bags, undoing your seatbelt afterwards. You glance at him again to see how you’ll find it in yourself to say goodbye and you notice him looking between your eyes and your lips. Neither of you can resist as you lean into one another and your lips meet.
It’s probably the best kiss ever. For both of you. Both of your lips are soft and somewhat sticky from all of the sugar consumed, tasting of vanilla and cinnamon sweetness that has you both swooning. Bucky wants to kiss you silly everywhere. Your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your chest, your legs, wow, he could kiss you forever. He places both hands on either side of your head to bring you impossibly closer to him and you smaller hands wrap around his forearms to keep him from moving. Bucky’s tongue slowly licks at your lips to coax them open and he slips his tongue between the gap you give him. Soft and wet and slick; your tongues wrestle each other and taste every corner of the other’s mouths. You let out a soft moan and Bucky uses that a cue to pull away, but not before sucking and pulling at your bottom lip, releasing it when he meets your eyes. You bite at your own lips trying to savor the taste of him and you don’t know how you’re going to focus for the rest of the day.
“Text me when you get out later.” Bucky whispers, his breaths brushing against your lips.
“Will do.” You whisper back. You’d probably feed him a sarcastic comment of some sort but you can’t it in you to even think of anything right now.
You regrettably gather your things and exit the vehicle, not without stealing one more kiss from Bucky, though. As you walk towards the main entrance doors, a loud honk makes you jump and you whip your head around to see Bucky chuckling to himself in his car, proud to have made you flinch the way you did. You hold in your own laughs as you exaggeratedly roll your eyes and continue towards the door.
This is going to be a long day.
TAG LIST: @jaamesbbarnes @sgtjbuccky @angel-fire @gagmebucky @hannie-writes-marvel @thewritingdoll @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @creppylittlemarvelgirl @spiderrpcrker @mywinterwolf @free-as-fishes @auskitty @som3thingcr3ative
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x doctor!reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes series#doctor!reader#doctor appointment#marvel#marvel fanfiction#d&s’milestonecelebration#writing challenge
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Skylark
GIF by @silent-force
Summary: Living in the midst of a war while working to make ends meet was nothing new to Alice Lloyd. That was until a chance meeting between her and a RAF pilot would forever change both their lives.
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: So this is my first time posting a story on this site and I’m slightly nervous about it. But I had to write this story because it’s been my head for months now. I also wanted to write it because I have not seen any Dunkirk stories with a Black/POC character which is understandable to a point. Anyways, I hope you like it to those who read it.
Sitting backstage at The Garden Rouge Club sat Alice Lloyd humming to herself as she concentrated on painting her lips red with lipstick. Alice screwed her lipstick down and placed the cap back on before placing it on the desk of the vanity mirror. Opening her mouth, Alice looked at her reflection, making sure there was not any lipstick on her teeth. The upbeat sound of jazz music being played from the band onstage was muffled, but yet Alice could still feel it vibrate into her ears, bounce off the walls, and emanate from the floor.
Alice stood up from her seat at the mirror and closed her eyes, placing her hands on her stomach and breathing deeply. Her heart began to race at the thought of her upcoming performance. The feeling of butterflies had entered her stomach as well. Alice had performed multiple times at the club, so she didn't understand why she was always nervous before each performance.
Out of nowhere, two pale hands landed on each of Alice's shoulders causing her eyes to snap open in fright.
"Why do you do this to yourself every time?" a man asked laughing.
"You ass!" Alice cursed, softly elbowing him in the ribs. "You scared the living daylights out of me James!" she added, shaking his hands off her shoulders.
James Allen's droopy gray eyes crinkled as he grinned proudly, shoving his hands into his pockets. He towered over Alice short stature of only five-five as the two of them looked at their reflection.
"You're going to do amazing Alice," the dark-haired man assured. "As you always do," he added, with a smile on his face.
"I know, but I always get a little anxious before I go on stage," she stated, shaking her head.
James breathed out a laugh, "Well think of it this way," he began, placing his hands on her shoulders again. "Even if you make a mistake onstage, the crowd won't notice because they'll be too enamored with this beautiful face," he stated, lifting her chin up with two of his fingers. "You look gorgeous Alice,"
Alice looked down and smoothed her red halter cocktail dress that complimented her warm, almond brown complexion.
She looked up at him with a small smile on her face, "You think so?" she asked, nervously running a hand through the black, glossy waves of her hair.
"Of course!" James said, sounding playfully exasperated. "Now come on, you don't want to keep the crowd waiting do you?" he asked, and she shook her head as he lead her to stage right.
James gave a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder before walking away from her to return to his to stagehand duties. Alice slightly peeped her head out to see the club was in full swing as couples danced happily on the dance floor. The band played the final note of their number and a loud applause echoed in the hall.
"Allow me to introduce our very own Miss Alice Lloyd,"
Alice walked onto the stage, waving and smiling at the audience as she made her way to the microphone.
"Let's keep this party going shall we?" she asked enthusiastically, and the crowd cheered in agreement.
She grasped onto the microphone as the rhythmic beating of the drum started up soon followed by the blaring of trumpet horns. Alice tapped her foot to the beat and smiled as she sang the opening line to 'Marvellous Party'.
Alice's eyes scanned through the smoky atmosphere of the club, watching friends and couples dance wildly and whirl each other around the dance floor. It brought a smile to her face as she snapped along to the verse she was singing. It was at this moment Alice's bright brown eyes met a pair of intense blue eyes looking back at her. The man had blond tousled hair and looked to be her age if not a little older. Feeling bold, Alice sent the man a playful wink as she continued on with her singing.
Belting out the last note, the room was filled with whistles, cheers, and applause.
"I hope we're not tired out there," Alice began, as the band started playing their next song.
~~~x~~~
After singing two more songs Alice exited the stage, but the band kept the party going. She made her to the bar, maneuvering through the packed crowd as best as she could. Finally at the bar, all Alice had to do was lift one finger and the bartender nodded his head as he had her order memorized.
"Thank you!" she called gratefully, as the bartender walked away after handing her a gin.
Drinking deeply, Alice leaned against the bar observing the club-goers, nodding her head along the upbeat song that was being performed. Until a voice from beside startled her.
"Ye sounded lovely up there," a Scottish-accented voice stated.
Alice whipped her head to the right and looked up to see the blond-haired man from earlier. The man smiled at her revealing his dimples in both of his cheeks, he had quite a boyish face. In Alice's opinion, the man was quite handsome. The man lifted an eyebrow at her silence and Alice cleared her throat as she felt heat flush her face from embarrassment for studying the man's features too long.
"Thank you," she finally said, a smile pulling on her lips. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she added, with a slight nod.
An awkward silence fell between the two of them and Alice lowered her head before taking another sip of her gin. Sneakily, she glanced over at the blond-haired man who was staring out into the crowd. When she was on the stage the man was sitting alone, and now here he was next to her still by himself. Alice began to wonder if the man came here with no friends.
"Did you come here alone?" Alice asked curiously, and he turned his head toward her.
“ Yes,"
"That's quite sad," Alice stated mindlessly, downing the rest of her drink.
The man chuckled, "Ouch," he commented, putting his hand over his heart.
Alice's eyes widened and she placed her drink down, "Oh my goodness, that's not what I meant," she apologized, shaking her head. "I wasn't calling you sad, I meant no offense sir," she clarified, waving her hands.
The man lightly laughed and shook his head, "No offense taken," he assured. "I found it rather amusing lass," he added, a smile on his lips. "Jack Collins," he introduced, sticking his hand out.
Alice smiled, relief flooding through her like a tidal wave, "Alice," she responded, shaking his hand. "Alice Lloyd," Smiling at one another, the two of them slid onto the bar stools that were next to them. "So what brought you to the Garden Rouge Mr. Collins?" Alice asked, somewhat playfully as she had her gin refilled.
Jack lifted his stout, "I came for a drink," he answered, before taking a long pull from it.
"You could've went to a pub if that's all you wanted," she pointed out, a chuckle escaping her lips.
"I suppose so, but a pub doesn't have the same lively ambiance a club does," he quipped, with a smirk.
Alice shrugged and nodded in agreement, "But going to a nightclub by yourself would be rather boring wouldn't it?" she posed, raising her glass to her lips. "I mean where are your lads?" she asked, putting the cup down.
Alice noticed that Jack's smile seemed to drop a little at her question and soon began to sense a change in his demeanor.
"They're gone," he answered, while examining the wood of the bar counter. "Off fightin in the war," he added, a distant look in his eyes.
"Oh," Alice breathed, in shock. "And you were left behind due to being rejected for medical reasons?" she guessed, her tone soft.
Jack shook his head, "No lass," he said. "I'm a pilot in the Royal Air Force," Jack corrected, lifting his head to finally look at her. "I'm just on leave," he added.
"Ahhh, a fly boy," Alice stated, tilting her head with a grin. "Well in that case, thank you for your service," she smiled, raising her glass which made a tiny grin appear on Jack's face. "I once thought about serving this country as a nurse, but it seems Britain would rather let Nazis invade the country before they ever accept a colored nurse," Alice joked bitterly, before sipping her drink and watching everyone still on the floor dancing or socializing.
"This job looks teh be more fun in my opinion," he commented, with a slight shrug.
Alice laughed, "It has its moments, when the pay is good," she replied, turning her body to face him. "Before the war broke out, I wanted to be a famous singer like Billie Holiday," she told him, resting her arm on the counter. "But now...it doesn't matter, war or no war, the chances of me singing professionally are slim," she finished shaking her head.
"I don't see why ye couldn't. Ye certainly have the pipes for it," Jack complimented.
"Thank you Jack," Alice said, a small smile forming on her lips. "But colored people don't achieve fame easily, even if we're talented," she added, shaking her head. Alice pushed herself off the bar stool, her feet hitting the floor with a soft click of her heels. "I best get back to work," she said, glancing over her shoulder at the stage. "I doubt my boss would be pleased to see me not doing what he hired me for," she chuckled, interlocking her fingers in front of her.
“It was nice meeting ye Alice," Jack said, smiling brightly at her.
"And you as well Jack," she told him. "Maybe I'll you see around here again. Hopefully, with friends," Alice jested, before walking away from him.
A/N: If this garners enough attention I’ll probably write the second chapter or maybe even if it doesn’t I’ll probably still post the second chapter just to get this story out of my head
Chapter Two
#dunkirk#dunkirk imagine#dunkirk imagines#jack collins#collins dunkirk#collins dunkirk imagine#black!oc#black original character#woc character#poc characters#black female oc#black fanfiction#dunkirk fanfiction
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I got an anon request for young Obi-Wan and Satine smooching in a cave:
ficlet below the cut (~1200 words)
* * * * *
The storm blew in swiftly, clouds crowding close accompanied by distant thunder. Obi-Wan led Satine along the cliff face, trying to find some protection. The rain started in cold heavy drops, soon intermixed with tiny hailstones. And then, hailstones that were not exactly tiny.
Obi-Wan raised one hand to form a bubble around them by pushing against the hail with the Force, but he also shielded her from any errant stones with his body. She felt the warmth of him through their wet clothes, blinking up at him to see the droplets of rain caught on his eyelashes and his close-cropped hair, the tension in the muscles of his jaw as he held his concentration.
“This is not a long-term solution.”
His tone and expression were dour, but his eyes were bright and there was the slightest hint of a dimple on his cheek. Satine, for an instant, felt wildly inclined to stretch up on her toes and kiss it.
Instead, she glanced further along the rocky cliff face, squinting through the rain and hail.
“I think I see a shadow further along. It might be some shelter.”
They continued on their way, finding that what they’d taken as a promising overhang turned out to be the mouth of a cave.
Satine dug into her pack to find her camp lantern, which illuminated the space with unexpected brilliance. The walls were streaked with veins of translucent stone, at some spots forming large spheres like great eggs. A few were cracked open, showing glittering interiors of fine crystals. The translucent veins caught the light of Satine’s lantern, propagating dim lines of radiance out from where they stood.
“How beautiful,” she said, her voice echoing out into the darkness deeper in the cave.
Obi-Wan shrugged out of his robe, shaking some of the water from it and then spreading it to dry over a convenient boulder. “It looks like someone’s done some mining here.” He indicated places where the egg-like structures had been chipped from the cave wall and the trail of glittering gravel, making a smooth path for repulsor carts. “I hope they don’t object to us taking shelter.”
“Nobody with even a little bit of compassion would force us back out into that.” She gestured towards the mouth of the cave, where hailstones were beginning to accumulate in white drifts, illuminated by incandescent flashes of lightning.
“Is anyone here?” he called out into the blackness, starting a cascade of echoes. They fell silent, with no response.
“I suppose we can stay, then.” Satine let her pack down onto the ground next to the boulder with Obi-Wan’s cloak.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, setting his own pack down beside it.
“Not yet. Thirsty, though.”
“There’s very little atmospheric pollution on this moon, so the hail should be quite potable.”
“Which would be much more appealing if the weather wasn’t so atrocious.”
“We can’t all live in climate-controlled domes.”
“Oh, and Coruscant is such a more natural environment than Sundari,” she countered, raising her eyebrows.
“Did I say that no one should?” His tone was bland, his expression purposefully mild.
She fought back a smile. “You didn’t. Very well, I’m satisfied.”
He turned to look back towards the mouth the cave again.
“I would rather like the storm, I think, if we were …”
“Cozy?” she suggested, arranging her pack so she could lean against it.
“Safe,” he amended grimly.
“I’m always safe with you.” She caught his hand, lacing their fingers together.
For a moment, their eyes met, and Satine felt an electricity between them that put the lightning storm to shame.
But, he merely squeezed her hand warmly, then let it go, leaning to pull a shallow pan from their cooking gear to fill with hail at the mouth of the cave.
Satine tried to make herself comfortable by spreading her own cloak over the gravel to sit on, but the chill of the cave seemed to settle into her very bones.
He returned and sat beside her, placing the pan of hailstones on the ground. They were as big as the glass baubles that Mando children used to play games of conquest, knocking each other’s baubles out of regions marked in chalk on the street. She picked one up and popped it into her mouth; it tasted fresh and clean, wetting her parched throat as it melted.
Their hands brushed against each other as they picked through the hail stones, eating them up before they melted.
“My fingers are getting numb,” she complained with a little laugh, the handful of hail having taken the edge off her thirst.
He caught her hand, leaning to warm her fingers against his cheek
“Ben,” she murmured, fingertip wandering to his lower lip.
He looked up at her, straightening and holding her gaze, his eyes like the sky just before the storm.
They both leaned forward.
His mouth was cold from the ice for just a moment, but it warmed against hers.
She reached up, lightly stroking the soft fine hair on the back of his neck and then brushing her thumb along his jaw. He rested his hands at her waist; his touch, as always, was gentle, but when she tried to shift closer, he held her firmly in place.
“Why do you do that?” she growled against his mouth.
“Do what?” he murmured, breathless.
“Push me away.” She put her hand on his.
He pulled back to look at her, the line of consternation and worry appearing between his brows. “Satine.” He cupped her cheek, exquisitely tender as he kissed her again. “You muddle me up,” he accused in a mumble, his lips still brushing hers.
“As I intended.” She rested a fingertip in the cleft of his chin.
He pulled back again, looking guilty and vexed. “How can I protect you when I can’t even think properly?”
“You think far too much anyway,” she pointed out.
“I mean, we’re not so safe here that we shouldn’t be on our guard. And how can I be when you… when we…”
“You’re probably right,” she conceded, pushing against his hold on her to nestle her face against his neck anyway.
“Satine,” he scolded, as she felt his hammering pulse with her lips.
“Don’t I deserve some consolation for that admission?”
“What if we consider it owed to you?” He smoothed a hand lightly over her hair.
She left a few more kisses on his throat before she straightened reluctantly. “I suppose that will have to do.”
But he was so charmingly flushed, she let herself succumb to temptation again and pressed her face against his hot cheek.
“You’re violating the terms of our truce,” he said, grave tone belied by the hitch in his breathing.
“They weren’t entirely clear,” she argued.
“Satine,” he said, pushing her back and stroking her hair. “You know that it isn’t that I don’t want to,” he told her, sweetly earnest.
“Oh, you might have to prove that to me,” she challenged, raising her eyebrows.
“I will,” he promised, taking her hand and kissing the palm, soft and slow. “When we’re safe.”
#Obi Wan Kenobi#Satine Kryze#Obi Wan/Satine#obitine#Star Wars art#my art#pencil sketches#I wrote a thing#long post#anon thank you so much for the kind words#I hope you don't mind that I didn't publish your ask directly but I didn't want the pic to get squished#as it does sometimes?#Also I left out Qui-Gon because I think at this point (since this is not a first kiss scenario) he either announces himself#or he walks in on them smoochin but then leaves again before they notice#since they are um distracted#the serious dilemma here#of can't make out when Qui-Gon is around cause no privacy#but when Qui-Gon isn't around#Obi-Wan needs to be alert and ready to defend the Duchess#and not making out with her
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Beyond the Facade | knj
Pairing: HandyMan!Namjoon X Pregnant!Reader, BestFriend!Taehyung X Pregnant!Reader
Word Count: 11k
Genre: fluff/smut/angst
Warning(s): strong language use, childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping
Summary: A sheltered life leads to harbored secrets that are buried in order to protect someone you are falling in love with. As the time is nearing for the life growing inside you to be welcomed into the world, the reminiscences of all the moments unfold to reveal a beautiful story that needed to be told.
The graying of the clouds is all you can see beyond your window other than the panging rain droplets now trickling upon the glass. Arm resting against your forehead, your lips press into a straight line in response to the series of thoughts circling your mind. Carefully, you slide your palms upon the mattress in an attempt to sit up, wanting to see more of the view besides the crying sky. Knuckles curling to rub your tired eyes, you furrow your brows, the comforting warmth of the bed covers remain tangled between your shins. Leafless trees border the side of the building save for a small swing set; a paved section decorated with a basketball hoop where a large shed stands many feet across from it. If one is to step outside the front of the structure, there sits a church surrounded by a gravel parking lot where the neighboring land hosts a barbed wire fence with an abandoned house and field.
It’s been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you’ve been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, “Oomf,” a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.
Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn’t one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.
“So, when are you going to tell us?” The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver’s side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it’s been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor’s appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, “we have a right to know.”
Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.
Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you’re freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, “Oh!” You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, “Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?” Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can’t help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.
Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you’ve decided since your first doctor’s visit that you do not want to know your baby’s gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.
Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you’re more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.
“Oh Namjoon, you scared me,” a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.
“I’m so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay,” he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.
“It’s no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,”
His dimples show from the way his lips press in a tight smile, nodding in reply, timorously turning to waltz to the outdoors in preparation of the day ahead. You watch until he disappears from your line of vision; the creep of a blush burning from your chest to your cheeks. Raking your hands through your hair, you force yourself once again to deny the attraction seeping through your soul thankful your blush attacked after he left.
Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father’s wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father’s office, is now changed into a bedroom.
It’s strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.
Taehyung’s arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.
“Shhh,” he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you’re thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.
“How?” You choke back another sob, “How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that’s what it comes down to? Shit… My dad is going to fucking kill me,” Taehyung’s shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.
“Okay, now, you’re being dramatic,”
“So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren’t going to take this lightly,”
“Yeah, but I think it’s safe to say that telling your parents you’re pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,”
“Okay? Perhaps, you’re right,” a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, “especially not with what’s been going on with the church, I don’t know how much more they can take,”
“Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom,” Taehyung’s icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can’t help but endure.
“Tae, I’m so so sorry,”
“Hey,” he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you’re just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, “you didn’t know,” sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you’re close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you’re going through, but you’re not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung’s lips part just enough to plead your attention.
You can’t stop yourself, and you don’t, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. “Tae,” you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn’t right. He knows this isn’t right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there’s anyone in this world you do not want to lose it’s him.
There’s no refraining, there’s no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you’re so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. “[Y/N],” he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. “[Y/N],” he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, “We- we can’t,”
You haven’t seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.
It’s a secret you’ve suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can’t help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother’s affair with your father.
Rage isn’t enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven’t spoken to him. You’ll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that’s something that’s hard to forgive.
Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church’s back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung’s family.
Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, “[Y/N]?”
“Yeah?” Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you’re grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.
It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, “Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it’s time… for you to have the baby?”
It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you’ve had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you’re too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.
-Four months earlier-
Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don’t have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You’re embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your mouth.
“You don’t have to be sorry,”
“That… wasn’t what I was apologizing for,”
A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can’t bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn’t discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn’t one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.
Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can’t seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.
“What if… what if I’m not good enough?” Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.
“How can you say that, [Y/N]?” The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can’t care for the child that you’re six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. “Look at me,” are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It’s the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon’s eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. “You’re going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,”
Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, “How can you be so sure?”
“Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about,” it’s not a question, he’s stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. “You’re stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?”
A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, “I do,”
“Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn’t have a choice, and you’ll let him or her know the second they’re born,”
When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.
“You don’t have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn’t know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor’s appointment bright and early,” the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,
“Wait!” You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, “Can you uh, … Can you stay in here with me tonight?” You’ve refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that’s become apparent, and even now, you haven’t been able to comprehend how he’s not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he’s already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, “Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are,” you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.
By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it’s no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.
“Have you thought about any names?” Taehyung’s voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You’ve missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you’re currently heating on the stove.
“No?” It’s a brief question of guilt, something you haven’t been ready to ponder, “Honestly… haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.
The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, “I should have known,”
“Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?”
“Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,”
“Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,”
“And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,”
“Since how? I-”
“Ask Hoseok,”
“You lost a bet didn’t you-”
“And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won’t I?”
“With me around, you will,”
Hoseok is the deacon’s son who’s dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He’s not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you’re thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.
“You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-”
“Oh!” You playfully growl, “Back with that again, huh?”
“Do I need to send you a link of baby names-”
“I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?”
“You’d be surprised-”
Taehyung’s excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.
The phone call ends whenever dinner is finished, and by that time, Namjoon scuffles through the door- the outdoorsy scent drifts to your nose while you place the sweltering bowls of soup on the table. Namjoon shimmers his feet from his work boots before hanging his coat, timidly glimpsing in your direction to confirm you’re okay.
Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon’s atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you’ve kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you’re around.
Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you’re uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.
“They don’t know,” your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon’s soft eyes on you, his expression confused. “They don’t know who the father is,” that’s when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you’re referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, “I won’t tell them.” Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you’re trying to bury beneath this web of fear. “Besides,” you sigh heavily, “I’m surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here,” you confess, “if he wasn’t so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-”
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he’s proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.
The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor’s appointment without any hesitation; with all that he’s been doing for you, it’s like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn’t be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.
Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon’s been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He’s so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she’s free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.
“Are you thinking boy or girl?” Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.
“Hm,” you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that’s being redeemed with her, “you know? I’m not very sure,”
“I can tell from all the colors you’ve chosen,” she teased, “it looks beautiful,” she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn’t want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother,”
The sound of the front door opens distracting you from the former memory, staring down at the table that now rests heaping plates of chicken and rice. The fellowship hall used to be filled with numerous rows of horizontal tables mingled with circular ones where the crowd would come to camaraderie to joyful hymnals, delicious food, reflected testimonies without any warning of the secrecies soon floating to the surface. Now a solo table, the one planted before you, pairs with a few sparse chairs just enough to seat at least four people.
“Hiya,” you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, “How was your day?”
“It was good, thank you,” he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, “How was yours with your mom?” His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It’s hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, “It was good,” you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, “Thank you… For helping me,” the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you’ve been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.
“Anytime.”
A blush floods your cheeks when he holds your timorous stare, so you avert your eyes to your dinner, letting the obvious feeling of Namjoon watching deepen the red shade on your skin. A few minutes disappear into time before you feel a shove against your abdomen from the inside. Your hand instinctively flies to press upon the baby bump, Namjoon jumping at the motion, stopping mid-chew, while his eyes enlarge in surprise.
“It’s okay,” you chortle at his reaction, “it’s just the baby kicking,” his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that’s hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.
“Here,” you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It’s the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.
“I told you that you don’t have to do this alone,” he whispers, and it’s then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can’t refrain. He’s too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That’s all the invitation needed, for Namjoon’s lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you’ve been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.
At this moment, you don’t care what anyone thinks.
You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that’s going to scare you away from that.
-Present day-
The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you’ve slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you’re on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It’s eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, “SURPRISE!”, nearly knocks you to the ground.
Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. “What?” You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.
“Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!”
“I’m still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!” You say breathlessly, you’re so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend’s shoulder. Taehyung’s fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, “Your father let you come?” There’s a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae’s father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.
“Well, no,” Taehyung winces mischievously, “I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,”
“Of course, you did, you sly fox,”
“You know you love me,” Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.
“You guys didn’t have to do this,” you’re still wiping tears off your face, though it’s evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, “What did I do to deserve the two of you?”
Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, “Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so,” he tilts his head toward Taehyung, “And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,”
It doesn’t take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.
“You two are on kissing terms, again?” Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that’s something you’re not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon’s face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.
By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung’s hair while some swiped across Namjoon’s neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it’s good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.
Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you’re not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung’s heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. My dad’s expecting me home soon,”
“I don’t want you to go,” you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispers near your ear, “Please, please don’t cry,” His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. “Oh my gosh!” You squeal, “Tae, it’s adorable! Where did you find this?”
Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, “I made it myself. And,” he pauses for effect, “since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta.”
“Ta Ta?”
“Yeah, like ‘Ta Ta… for now,’”
“Just when I thought I couldn’t love your dork of a self even more,” you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.
“I love you, too.” His voice thickens with emotion, “Now, quit saying it like you’re never going to see me again, because you know I’m not going anywhere.”
“You promise?” Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It’s a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he’s always found within your heart. Taehyung’s agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what’s been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that’s displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.
“I promise.”
He hadn’t kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it’s too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.
Toddling to the nursery upon Tae’s departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It’s dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You’ve missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend’s presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?
Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You’re highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.
After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,
right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child’s cradle,
you finally have a name picked out for your little one.
2 months later….
“Namjoon, I’ll be fine,” the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He’s concerned as he’s been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, “I’m not due until next week. Don’t worry,”
“I know,” he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, “But, I can’t help it.”
“I’ll be fine,” you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you’re now feeling upon your lips. “Mm,” you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, “You’ll be back before you know it,” you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.
“Okay,” he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, “I love you,”
There’s a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, “I love you, too, Joon,” watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.
Of course, the day doesn’t go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. “Oh,” you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.
Suddenly, before you can comprehend what’s happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.
“No,” you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn’t be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no ’thump’ is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.
Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. “Agh!” A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn’t take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.
“Hello?”
“Joon, it’s time,” you choke, voice thick with pain.
“Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I’m on my way, just hold tight, I’m coming-”
You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, “[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He’s going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn’t that wonderful?”
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Ma'am,” Namjoon’s polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you’ve grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There’s a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.
Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, “[Y/N], I’m here! Baby, I’m right here,” he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn’t end, “I’m going to grab the suitcase, I’ll be right back,” time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver’s side.
It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he’s slowly but surely learning is that you’re not one to give up so easily- something you’ve noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he’s on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn’t breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.
“Come help me,” you plea hearing Taehyung’s exasperated sigh on the other line.
“You are so annoying,”
“You know you love me, fool,” you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.
“He doesn’t even come to the services,” Jo droned, “Don’t you think it’d be best to get to know someone that’s more… active in the church? Like the pianist’s son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-”
You can’t get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, “I’ll catch you later,”
Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you’re thinking about other than Namjoon who’s keeping you sane.
“Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe,” his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.
“GAH!” Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.
“You guys aren’t going to stop until I’m your friend, am I right?” Namjoon’s elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.
“Damn straight,” you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon’s tilting head.
“I thought church girls didn’t cuss,”
“And I thought you’d have more game than the basketball,” Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, “Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?”
With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, “Okay,” the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung’s arms.
“HAH!” You sprint, colliding into Taehyung’s embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, “Looks like it’s going to be a burger and fries’ kind of night,” you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.
The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you’re safe. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN’ – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE’ helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.
Namjoon’s calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You’re not sure of all the commotion that’s overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, “Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out.” Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, “Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,”
“Taehyung… My mom… Dad-” you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.
“No worries baby, they’re on their way. They’re on their way right now,” he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.
The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon’s atheism as well as him providing for his family.
“My dad couldn’t find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes,” it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. “Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck…” Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you’ve been determined to gain since meeting him.
It’s weeks later that you’ll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you’ve grown so fond of. There’s no denying the feelings he’s had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn’t left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.
Time doesn’t seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. “Ten centimeters-” He confirms, “Alright, [Y/N], the baby’s coming. When I say push, you push. Okay,” he positions himself though you can’t see anything past your gown and raised knees, “One, two, three! Push!”
“AGH!” You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.
“Breathe, breathe,” Namjoon’s hand hasn’t once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.
“Is she here!?” The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. “Oh, honey, I’m here!” It’s your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung’s red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, “Push!”
“AAAAAAAGH!” You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon’s. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.
“I’m- I’m so glad you both are here,” you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, “Push!” erupts.
“I’m scared,” you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon’s soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don’t know where your parents are, and you’re too angry to care. You’re bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you’d hate to discover what the consequences will be.
“Me too,” his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You’ve never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you’re curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.
His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, “I want you,” you whisper. He knows that you’re a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. “Are you sure this is what you want,” concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.
“I don’t think I’ve wanted anyone so much in my life,”
You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you’ve grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. “More,” you beg, “Please, Joon, more.” When clothes start to be thrown off, you’re determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. “Show me,” you breathlessly demand, Namjoon’s palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You’re surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn’t bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. “Holy shit,” he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.
Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you’re hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, “Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!”
He’s not ready for you to finish because there’s more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.
“Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!”
Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung’s gaze doesn’t drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you’re ready to see the child you’ve been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin’s. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, “It’s a girl,”
“Oh!” You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.
“Sir, would you like to do the honors?” The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can’t even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.
“Wait,” Your mom says, “Is- is?”
It’s a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung’s shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.
“Yes,” the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad’s although your mother’s stare remains on you, “Namjoon is the father.”
Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter’s heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?
Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter’s cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, “She is seven pounds and five ounces,”
Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father’s quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.
“Are you ready to hold her?” Monnie’s kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.
“Yes,” you stifle a sob, “I want to hold her,”
Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. “She’s so perfect,” you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter’s fingers fold individually upon her chest.
“Just like you,” Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.
“I love you, Joon,” you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.
“I love you, too.”
“Uh,” the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, “So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question,” the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, “What’s her name?”
“Ah,” you nod, realizing that hasn’t been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he’s ever longed for and more, and he’s ready to defeat any storm in life if it’s with you and his daughter.
To answer Tae’s question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.
“Taejun.” Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,
“Her name is Kim Taejun.”
#kim namjoon#kim taehyung#namjoon fic#bts#bts fanfic#bts fic#namjoon smut#bts angst#bts fluff#bts smut#namjoon fluff#namjoon x reader#namjoon x you#taehyung x reader#taehyung x you#bts kim namjoon#bts kim taehyung#bts namjoon#bts taehyung#11k
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New addiction
Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader
Genre: Tattooist!au, Smut
Word Count: 4,063
“Welcome to your new addiction.” There goes the slogan of Empire Ink, a place you’ve found to build the little dream of yours, a place where you discovered your new addiction.
Note: There’s something magical that I have to tell you guys—Few days ago, I stumbled across a tattoo of Jaehyun on my insta feed. Then, there’s a post where Jaehyun said that in his dreams he had a tattoo on his body. And I just had my tattoos touched up weeks ago. All this happened when I’m in the middle of writing this. Hope this turns out well! First attempt with suggestive content and then I have this one dollar photo shop quality, please bear with me. Thank you! (Not proofread, changes will be made in the future.)
Over the last decade, tattoo parlors burst forth within the districts of Seoul, like desert flowers blooming after a rain.
The body art was no longer viewed as a sign of trouble or gang affiliation and it was pretty common nowadays, even among the ladies.
You weren’t in the exception either. Well, not in a way like covering your skin with tattoos because you knew you would definitely regret it in the future.
Preferably, you are good in sketching and you’ve always had the idea of bringing your artworks into life. The canvas you wanted to work on was human skin, that would provide the pieces of art the mobility as they went down the streets of the city, showing off to the eyes of the public like a walking exhibition of your own.
Instead of chasing after the end goal, you chose to start it small with getting yourself a part time job during your breaks, to keep yourself motivated. Although you knew the possibility of you holding the gun is close to none, you wouldn’t mind either as long as you get to make your designs known.
You’re glad that the store you’re heading to did show a lot more interest in your artworks besides the multiple owner’s you’ve contacted, which they were looking for someone that could actually handle the machine.
A minimalist signage on the shop front, Empire Ink, large double-door of oak and glass serves as the entrance. The exterior was already welcoming.
With a genuine smile on your face, you push open the door, revealing a wide studio with high-class and modern interior. It looks as if it was an art gallery instead of the ideal place you were looking for. You’re in awe at how neatly the furniture and decorations were arranged. There’s a feature wall adhered with torn pages of sketchbooks with hand-drawn designs, the lightings in the studio making it more visually appealing.
You were lost in admiration when the sound of a friendly voice broke in, “Hello, how may I help you?”
You turn around and your eyes met with a guy who stood behind the reception desk, greeting you with a toothy smile. His hair was dark, with piercings that you couldn’t count on your fingers, wearing a black Hawaiian shirt patterned in hibiscus and palm leaves.
“Hey, um…” you begin hesitantly, unsure what to say when he continues to stare you down. “I’ve made an appointment few days ago, with Ten. It’s about the part-time job...”
“Oh, it’s you!” his smile grows even wider, eyes crinkling as he gives you a high-five instead of a traditional handshake, telling you to take a seat by a bar table while he gets some drinks for you. “I’m Ten, by the way.”
Slow and jazzy music booming through the speakers giving a comfortable feeling while you’re still doubting whether you’ve gone to the wrong place. It wasn't the tattoo parlor you envisioned.
“Relax. I don’t bite.”
He occupies the seat in front of you and props his chin on his hand, “So… I’ve seen your portfolio and I’m really amazed with your skills. I assure you that the others feel the same way too.”
Immediately a smile splits across your face, half appreciation, half embarrassment.
“Do you have any tattoos on yourself?” he wonders. The so called interview wasn’t as formal as you thought, it’s more of like a casual conversation where you get to know each other.
“No, I might regret it,” you chuckle, noticing the obvious differences on your skin. His was covered in elegance of floral line art, like the garden of Eden, while yours is a blank canvas.
And you begin to tell him about your story and the little dream of yours. You could sense the connection between him when he lets out ‘oohs and aahs’, putting you more at ease. The tiny seed of hope inside you was blooming when he said he sees the potential in you.
“That’s great! I can’t wait to work with you,” he squeals.
Your chatting gets interrupted when the entrance door opens, comes in guys in colorful hair and inked skin. You suppose they were visiting for their appointments, not until Ten calls over.
“Newbie!” he points at you and they wave in unison, greeting you with the same warmth-filled smile.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Leaving the place with a new excitement, you made a statement in your head: The whole studio just screams aesthetic, even the tattoo artists themselves.
Three weeks into your new job, you’ve gotten closer with everyone besides Ten, namely Taeyong, Yuta and Jaehyun. All of them are fairly nice and pampered you with food. While you’d help them in a lot of aspects like setting up the tattoo machines, arranging their schedules, snapping photos of their works, managing the official Instagram profile, the list goes on. You’ve done the most for Jaehyun, being busiest among the guys, that he somehow gave you the title as his personal assistant.
And when Ten needs your help, “Can you prepare my gear while I get the stencil done…”
“No, quit making her do things for you… She’s mine,” Jaehyun argues back.
It always turns out as their childish bickering with Ten defending that he was the one that brought you in while Jaehyun muttering bastard under his breath.
“How old are you? Five?” you accompanied the question with a jab on his chest.
That said, his expression brightens, the playful smirk was replaced with a fake pout and he whispers, “You poked my heart.”
You pull your hand away as soon as it was caught in his, spinning around to Ten’s workstation.
In a skillful manner, you set up the equipment and laid out unopened packages of needles, ink caps placed by the side. After one last check you had everything done, you return to your drawing desk.
The studio falls silent again, only with the soft music playing on the speakers, until you heard feminine giggles coming from Jaehyun’s workstation. Your head turns to the voice to see him entertaining his client, while she has her free hand covering her redden face.
Recently the parlor has attracted quite a number of females, each tattoo artist has one or two for a day while Jaehyun mostly have them for all of his appointments. Surprisingly they came in with the proposals to have your designs inked on their skin. Your artworks that were published on social media received thousands of likes and comments. Not to exaggerate on your achievement, you were grateful for that.
Your eyes train onto Jaehyun’s nimble hands as he works professionally, watching as the desired art piece slowly forming on her milky skin. The humming of the tattoo gun filled your ears and time just flew by when you had your full attention on the poking of the needles.
He must have felt your gaze so he raises his head, flaunting his dimples as he shoots you a cheeky smile. Something about him made you whisk away, blinking several times, clearing your throat. There was a sudden rush of emotion you couldn’t pin point but you felt your cheeks burn and your heart picks up a beat.
Jaehyun was a charming guy, you could say that’s a fact, which explains why he was flooded with the females. He is playful at times, serious when it comes to work. He gets all lovely around you and you’ve always thought it must have been their nature to be flirty and such.
The other guys have left earlier when you both were occupied with work. About half an hour later, Jaehyun is finally done, greeting his client goodbye, and he makes his way to you.
Your arm moving in a frenzy, forehead furrowed in concentration that you didn’t realize he’s lying on the bed by your side. A hand propping his head and he watches you, mirroring your actions from before.
Then all of a sudden, he breaks the silence, “I'm bored.”
He stifles a laughter, amused seeing that he gave you a little jolt of shock at the sound of his voice. Your hand jerked in reaction and you stare at your messed-up drawing, which was almost done.
“Shit. I hate you.” The pen flew across the table and you rise on your feet, lunging forward the guy who appeared to be giggling. “You’re so annoying sometimes…”
His laughter growing louder when your hands reach to his neck, strangling in a playful manner and you shove his chest.
“Are you a man,” he chokes out.
He shifts on the cushioned surface and settling to lay flat on his stomach, arms draping the sides of the bed.
“My back hurts, can you help me?” he groans painfully when his spine straightens in his current positionㅡthe drawbacks of being a tattoo artist. They often crane their necks, bend and stoop for long hours practicing their craft. They do stop for breaks to stretch their bodies, but the ache they put themselves into were incomparable.
“I wasn't hired for this…” they sure never did. None of them had you done something that ever requires physical contacts, something like giving a massage. Jaehyun was relatively comfortable with you, way too comfortable you suppose.
“Please…”
Convinced, you climb onto the bed, your knees by the sides of his thighs and you begin working your fingers on his tense muscles. He lets out grunts and hisses, squirming underneath when you reach the trigger points. Cracking sounds can be heard when he moves his head, the joints in his neck popping like a glow stick.
“I might need your help next time… You’re really good at this,” his voice muffled between folded arms.
“Pay me.”
He chuckles, basking in the silence before he speaks up again. “Hey, I’ve caught you watching me for a couple of times. I suppose you were studying the procedure, or should I say you were checking me out?” he just couldn’t let a day go without teasing you.
Perhaps, he has a secret satisfaction about your baffled, flustered and bewildered reactions.
Rather, you remain quiet. Your silence didn’t go unnoticed when he suddenly turns on his back, facing you completely. The position had your eyes grew the size of saucers, you’re practically straddling on top of him in a considered intimate position. Words caught in your throat and you find yourself avoiding his eyes, a flush starts at your neck and creeps to your cheeks. A slow panic begins to set in at the thought of getting caught, especially by the guys.
Bolting upright and trying to scramble off the bed, but Jaehyun won't let you pass. He grips your hips and holds you down, having you sitting on his thighs.
“What are you doing?”
He smiles cockily and warning signals flickered suddenly in your head.
“What do you think, babe?”
“Babe?” your brows furrowed in disbelief, you felt your heart thumping, almost jumping out of your chest. This time he loosens his grasp, letting you crawl off the bed just when Ten walks in.
The innocent guy has his eyes flitting back and forth between the both of you, staring quizzically at Jaehyun who's still lying on the bed, grinning from ear to ear.
“Please don't tell me you guys just done something like what I have in mind.”
“What-”
Jaehyun rolls off the bed and stands, “She's an expert I can say.” A contented mewling sound slipped past his lips as he stretches his body.
Laughing once again at Ten's remark. “Oh my god, you guys are nasty.”
“We didn't!”
And from that day onward, Jaehyun just stays on your mind, in your brain, your head. The voice that called you by the pet name ringing your ears, the warmth that clasped on your body making your stomach churns in a good way.
He’s always there, within your radar. Light brushing of skin which was once overlooked, you’re hyper aware of them now and they never failed to spark your curiosity. When your eyes meet occasionally, he returns it with a smile and for the first time, you realized that dimples are indeed adorable.
He does have some strange effects on you that you didn’t think it could ever happen.
In this decent size of a pantry, large enough for three people, you find yourself growing alert in his presence. He wasn’t even doing anything yet your fingers are trembling when you reach for the cabinet.
“Peach tea?” he questions out of the blue, as though he was watching you.
Jaehyun too, is having a hard time biting back a grin when he sees you like this.
You nod.
When you thought he left, suddenly, hands braced on either side of you, trapping you in place between muscular arms, inks on the skin that you can easily recognized.
“Jaehyun?” you duck your head to the side when his face closes in from behind.
“Why are you so nervous?” his voice resonates in your ears, laced with amusement.
“I- The guys-” your words came out stuttered and slurred. The last thing you wanted was to get caught red handed in this situation. Ten could hardly keep his mouth shut for weeks about that one time albeit it wasn’t even true.
“What if I say they've already left,” he turns you around, looking straight in your eyes, toothy smile still plastered across his face, “Does that allow me to do this?”
He grabs your empty cup, only a tea bag was dropped inside, and he puts it away, in one fluid moment. He wasn’t even forcing you into it yet you’ve already let your guard down.
It was his eyes that drew you in. They challenged you. Their intensity, their energy made you fall under his spell. You couldn’t move away as he holds your chin tenderly between thumb and the crook of his index finger. Jaehyun stares down at your lips. You felt the magnetic pull towards each other’s mouths. But he still didn't kiss you.
The entire time he hovers above you, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. Teasingly he grazes your lips a couple of times, his minty breath brushing lightly and a moment later, his tongue skimmed over your quivering flesh. Though he has the audacity to pull away, laughing softly when you chase after him.
“Back to work,” he sings, taking a sip from his mug before waddling out his way under the bamboo beaded curtain. Its tone of bright red of the millennial brand, Supreme, reflecting the shade on your cheeks.
There are times when things just come at you like a déjà vu, that you see with the familiarity when Jaehyun laid on the bed by your drawing desk while everyone’s gone. However at the present moment, he has his shirt removed, revealing numerous tattoosㅡan ornate cross with wings from his throat that stops between his jugular notch, tarot cards of the Sun and the Moon clad on the left side of his rib cage, a gun on his pelvic which was pointed to his groin.
His body is beautiful as it is, muscles of a Greek god that seems almost unreal.
“C'mon, don't be scared.”
The tool in your gloved hand which you were more than familiar with its assembly, feels so much different when you're going for the real deal, despite practicing it couple of times on apples and pears.
With thick, hesitating articulation, you put the question which your eyes asked mutely, into words: “Are you sure about this…”
“I’ve never doubted my decisions and it’s not like you’re gonna stab my insides with the needle, unless that’s what you’re intended.”
“Now that you’ve mentioned, I’m more towards the idea of it.”
You weren’t in a rush for the hands-on experience though, while Jaehyun thinks otherwise. He even listed out the many reasons that manipulated you into the current situation. Whether it was made up or not, you find it hilarious when he said he’s uncomfortable working on female areas that are labelled as body boundaries. Aren’t those what the ladies want in the first place? You just have to poke fun of him. But what are the chances for them to walk in and tell it straight to their faces that they want their vagina or nipples tatted when the studio is crowded with fine men.
“Just do it exactly how you practiced and I’ll guide you,” he assures.
You draw a breath and will a note of confidence into your voice, “Alright.”
Your back hunched over as you lean on the edge of the bed, fingers lightly pressing on the patch of skin just above the waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear. Purple colored stencil of a lipstick print mark works as a combination of visual simplicity and detailed lines to achieve greater realism.
You tighten your fingers on the barrel, trembling slightly when the needle vibrates at a consistent speed upon pressing the footswitch. You begin with drawing in the outlines, taking a good amount of time due to your inexperience. The first lines are often most painful as the needles need to penetrate deeper to create distinct lines but Jaehyun doesn’t budge or flinch, as if it was nothing. Well, it isn’t, if it were to be compared with the ones that are done on certain parts of his body closer to the bone.
To be frank, there’s a slight discomfort during the process. When you pull back to wipe the skin with a sanitized wipe to clean away any extra ink, he fakes a dramatic yelp and wince. Immediately you drop everything onto the utility cart, glancing over at him in concern. “I’m so sorry, does it hurt very bad? You should tell me to stop.”
“I’m only kidding,” he says, laughing a bit. “Relax, you’re doing great. Try not to press too hard and remember to pause between few seconds.”
Once the outlines have been drawn, you concentrate on shading and coloring. This time there’s no pain, just a slight tickle. Jaehyun watches your intense eyes on his skin, the needle steady in your hand. The red ink flowed down the syringe as the design gradually forms its shape.
The session took longer than usual as it is your first. Staring at the tattoo for a moment, he gives you a nod of approval. Surprisingly the end result looks better than you’ve imagined and you couldn’t hide your glee, bursting with joy over your achievement.
“You good?”
“Content.” He sits up and throws his legs over the side of the bed, eyes glued to the back of your head.
“Now that you’ve left a mark on me-”
You listen carefully, slipping the rubber gloves off your hands and tossing them into a bin.
There's something in his voice of the authoritative tone, something which has the effects of flawlessly circular pancakes, perfectly swirled ice-cream cones or a truly seedless watermelon.
“It’s my turn.”
Without a warning, an arm loop around your waist from behind, then draw you against him. The warmth of his breath heats your delicate skin when he runs his nose along the side of your neck. He takes a whiff of the fragrance you sprayed on earlier and boldly leaves a trail of open mouth kisses, enjoying your gasps.
“Jaehyun,” you mutter weakly, but you have no idea what you’re going to say next. His mouth closes over a spot behind your ear and all you can do is melt into the pleasure.
To finally be wrapped in his strong arms feel heavenly, and if you thought you have any strength to resist before, it has now been obliterated. You lean back, sinking into the seductive caress. He tightens his grip affectionately, filling you with a deep, needy longing.
“God, I want you.” He groans impatiently, gently biting on your neck with the obvious intention of descending further.
Turning your body to face his, he pulls you flush against his bare torso. You pray you won’t swoon when he touches you, because you’ve been obsessing about him and his kisses for too long.
Incredibly, he presses his lips onto yours fully for several seconds before taking it up a notch. It was nothing like the kisses you had before, so desperate and urgent. His tongue seeks entrance and you open to him, angling your face to allow him total access. His hands found themselves in the back pocket of your jeans, squeezing the solidity of your cheeks.
Many minutes passed, you aren’t sure for how long but you’re beginning to feel lightheaded when he has literally taken your breath away. Jaehyun pulls back just in time and his lips move onto the column of your neck. His large hands massage their way up either side of your body until they found your breasts. With his thumb, he rubs a tantalizing circle around your nipple over the fabric of your shirt. The sensual shivers wrack your body as each kiss heightens your sensitivity to his touch. Sweet, hot desire shot through and you moan.
Your middle soared to life, and the moisture between your legs grew.
You’ve worn a tank top, granting him free access to your bare skin all the way to the upper swell of your breasts. He takes advantage of it, pressing small, nibbling kisses all over and tasting with the very tip of his tongue. Splotches of red and purple bloom at his wake, your body as a canvas to his vandalism.
“Please,” you whisper, begging for more. Your fingers curling into his thick tousled hair, tugging on the roots with a little force. A small, animal-like sound of need, passes through your lips when his mouth hovers just above your skin.
“Easy, princess.” He laughs softly. “I want to take my time with you.”
His hand finds the hem of your top, pulling it over your head until your bra-encased breasts are revealed.
“Gorgeous. So beautiful. All for me.”
Words became lost in your throat. You’re too busy experiencing the way he laves your cleavage with his tongue. It feels like you can come right then, without any further preliminaries.
Jaehyun kisses on your mouth again, a hand moving its way down your body, undoing the button of your jeans. You shudder uncontrollably when his fingers dip into your laced underwear without warning, reaching your sex. Brushing through your folds, seeking and finding that nub that brings you ecstasy. His thumb plays across the swollen wet flesh of your clitoris, caressing, teasing.
“Oh my…” you gasp, and soften against him when he touches you deeper. The slickness of your arousal spreading his skillful fingers. “You’re so good at this.”
Devilish laugh resonates in your ear. As he kisses and nibbles your neck, a finger slides deep into your body, grinding the heel of his hand against your most sensitive spot. And he adds another. Then, a third.
“Baby, you’re taking me so well.” He curls his fingers, rubbing your walls and pushing them further to reach the spot that could make your eyes roll back in your head.
Hot breath fanning your cheeks when he inches closer, whispering lowly in your ears, “I can’t wait to bury myself inside you.”
In a few short moments, you feel yourself on the verge of a climax as his fingers work expertly, flickering over the nub. His thrusts picking up pace, ramming harder like he’s going to destroy you.
“Let go,” he prods.
Soon, like a command, the building tension explodes and you cry out his name and arch against him.
When all the explosive sensation subsided, you find it difficult to look at him in case he looks smug, you won’t be able to handle it.
However there’s an urge within you, that you want to touch him, you need to. Blindly, you lean forward, kissing anything you come into contact with—his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks. Your lips travel south until you reach the fresh tattoo, and pressing a gentle kiss on it.
The permanent ink of your lips that you left on him.
A smile makes its way on your face as you stare at your work in admiration, satisfaction, with accomplishment. The idea of it was endearing, an indication where the man before you, is yours.
You may have found your new addiction.
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Elevator Encounter -Hoseok |pt1|
Word Count: 2655
Genre: flufffiest fluff/ cuteness overload
Pairing: Hoseok x Reader
Synopsis: What will happen when you get stucked in an elavator together with you bias?
The moment you stepped out of the store, you stretched your arms out to your sides and let out the air from your mouth sharply. Three long exhausting hours in queued line, you felt your calves and legs stiffened and cramped up.
You rest your hands on you knees as you retrieved back the air you thought your lungs was deprived for hours, and as soon as your eyes landed on the bag slung on your forearm, you felt your body tingle with excitement. A grin streched widely on your lips as you stare at it with awe.
After long hours of waiting, you finally got your own BT21 Mang cushion that you couldn't wait to bring home and hug to sleep. The mall nearby just had its soft opening of BT21 store and you were one of the lucky ones to get the item, in fact the luckiest when you got the last one available.
You let out a squeal with both hands covering your mouth, creating a muffled excited scream as you stomped your feet repeatedly on the ground.
"It was totally worth it~" you mumbled in a sing-sang tone while glancing back at the store that was still full of ARMYs inside. Your eyes traveled back to your BT21 bag and your lips quirked into a big smile, not caring if you'd hurt your cheeks from too much smiling.
You were overjoyed, and for you it was the best thing that ever happened to you, second to meeting Hoseok of course, you thought.
You were blissfully skipping while humming to 'EGO', your ponytail swung behind your head as you made your way towards the elevator.
The elevator finally came up to your floor, and the ping sound resounded. You entered into an empty space and as soon as the door opened, you quickly pressed the button going to second floor. You planned to stop by a coffee shop, might as well enjoy a freshly baked buns along with it.
As the door closed, your eyes darted to your cheery expression from its mirror walls upfront, suddenly a bubble of excitement build up inside you. Your shoulders grooved up and down to the non-existent music, your body swayed on both sides with your eyes shut as you wrapped your arm tightly around your Mang cushion.
Lost in your own world, you didn't noticed the elevator door had opened, revealing a stunned guy who was completely dazed with your silly dance moves you unknowingly doing in front of him.
His eyes landed on the bag you were hugging, his perplexed expression turned into a huge smile and soon followed by a soft chuckle, making your body fliched at the sound. Your eyes shot open, meeting his crescent formed eyes.
You gawked at him with unbelieving eyes and mumbled breathlessly, "n-no way"
He went in before the door closed, pressed the button '2' and went to the far left, leaning his shoulder comfortably on its mirror wall while his hands tucked away in the front pocket.
Even with mask covering the half of his face, his almond- shaped eyes that you memorized too well, his fluffly hair, cutely accessorized bag, fashionable oversized clothes. You could easily tell who he was. Everything about him screams HOSEOK, but you decided not to tell him. You were afraid that he might feel uncomfortable. Thus, your resolve was not to invade his personal time.
"You must be in a good mood? " he interrupted your fuzzy mind as you glanced at him in widened eyes, you still find it hard to believe that he was standing right in front of you.
"uhh- I uhh, yeah." you squirmed when your voice cracked, fighting the urge to punch yourself for your lame response. You cursed under your breath after embarrassing yourself for the second time, but he only giggled.
"May I ask why?" he asked in an enthusiastic manner. His bright voice was so pleasant to your ears that it effortlessly made your heart beat like crazy.
"I bought a mang cushion. It's a BT21 character made by BTS" you mustered to say, not letting your voice to falter as you explain the already known fact that you knew he knows too well, and lift your head up to meet his eyes with your biggest smile.
"Oh really?" you heard him chuckled under the mask as he leaned on his back to get himself a better view of you,while folding his arms against his chest.
The moment was surreal. Your hands were ice cold, your knees were wobbly, treathening to collapse anytime but you knew that if you let this moment slip away you will regret it for life, you decided to knock some sense on you and enjoy this once in a lifetime opportunity.
"Are you a fan of BTS?"
" Yes and you are my bias, Hoseok" when you firmly decided to seize the moment, it wasn't meant to turn out this way, but the words came out bullet fast that it slipped out your mouth before realizing it. You abruptly covered you mouth but you realized it was too late when his expression stiffened, his brows raised high over his widdened eyes.
" You know me?" his voice sounded astonished, you avoided his gaze and lowered your head as you fiddled with your fingers nervously.
" ah yes I do but I was- I am sorry i wasnt planning to disturb you or something but-"
"No it's fine." he interrupted as he waved his hand in front of you and chuckled softly, "I was just shocked that you managed to recognize me even with a mask on, you didn't offend me in any way, dont worry" he explained in a calm tone, assuring you he was okay with it.
"ohh that's a relief" you pressed a hand on your chest as you felt your body loosened up. You leaned your back on the mirror wall and stood there opposite to each other.
"You're such a thoughtful fan, I appreciate that. What's your name?" he asked and came a curious tilt of his head.
"I'm Y/N" you answered, a sheepish smile stretched on both side of your lips.
He replied a nod with a lingering smile under his mask and abruptly shoved his hand inside his tote bag and took out a piece of paper and pen. He scribbled something on it and reached out his hand towards you afterwards, signaling you to take it.
Your eyes sparkled in delight, your lips formed into a childish grin the moment you held the paper that had become one of your most treasured possessions.
It was his autograph with a little message 'you are my hope' on the lower right and your name written under it.
He lowered his mask to his chin, revealing his effortlessly beautiful face. He has the prettiest cheekbones, perfectly high nose and sculpted sharp jawline. Seeing him this close, you realized his photos and videos you've seen before didnt do him justice.
You stared at him dumfounded with your mouth slightly agaped "That's for my good ARMY~" he said in tiny cute voice as he gave you a quick smile that made his lil dimples appear. He took a step closer and gently pet your hair.
Your body stiffened from his touch, your heart thumping rapidly against your chest.
You hoped the moment won't end but luck must not be on your side when something unexpected happened.
You felt an intense rumbling underneath the floor that was followed by a loud screech. The lights flickered on and off that soon enough came back to normal, however the elevator stilled and completely stopped moving.
“What the hell.” Hoseok muttered, shock audible inside his words as he began pressing the buttons in front of you frantically.
Being stuck in a place with Hoseok was a dream come true but the fact that you were stucked in a enclosed narrow space was a nightmare. Your claustrophobia was to blame.
Your hands started trembling, your heart were palpitating in a higher frequency.
"This cant be happening" you mumbled in gritted teeth as you fought the urge of panic seeping through your body but you felt you were losing the battle.
You rubbed your tightened chest, trying hard to catch your staggering breath. Beads of cold sweat started to form on your forehead as you gripped hard on the handrail when you felt your legs was about to give out.
"What's wrong?" he turned to you when he heard a comotion you created from behind.
"I-I can't breathe" you mumbled under your ragged breathe and kept you eyes shut, hoping all the negative thoughts contributing to your phobia would go away.
You heard him gasped loudly, "Oh my god! What should I do?" he asked in a panicked voice. His hands placed on the sides of his head as his eyes trailed up and down on you and stopped on your face to look in your eyes with terror.
He frantically searched for something inside his bag and brought out his tumbler quickly, "Here have some water, will this help?" he stretched his arm towards you with the tumbler on his hand.
You abruptly accepted his offer with a nod and gulped down the content of its last drop not minding the thoughts of possible indirect kiss, but if it had occured on a different situation you would have definitely freaked out.
"Thanks" was all you mustered to say in a weak voice as you gave the tumbler back to him.
You allowed yourself to slip down the wall and sit down the floor in an idian sit position and rest your hands atop your knees with your head hanged low, your bt21 bag placed on one side.
He followed you and lowered himself beside you, his both legs stretched out. He was close that you felt his arm slightly brushed against yours.
"Are you feeling better?" his voice laced with worry. His brows furrowed while his eyes carefully traced down your face with a hardened expression.
"A little" you muttered weakly, your shoulder heaved up and down but now in lesser intensity.
All of a sudden, you felt the warmth of the contact to your skin that made you flinch and smoothly slipped his slender hand on top of yours and held it firmly, you shot your head up only to be met by a soft smile that touched the corner of his mouth, his small dimples reappeared.
"Breathe with me" he spoke softly and kept his eyes focused on yours as you nodded in response and gave his hand atop of yours a gentle squeeze
"Inhale... Exhale... " you followed his lead and repeated after him while looking at him deep in his eyes and miraculously it made you feel better.
His warm eyes that presented gentleness and trustworthiness, You felt you were safe.
You both did the breathing exercise for a multiple times until your breathing has gotten back to normal.
"I think I am okay now"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, thank you Hoseok"
A comfortable silence enveloped between both of you. You let it linger for a moment until you spoke.
"It never crossed my mind that I'd meet you in an unlikely situation. This is crazy. " you blurted as you laughed and you weren’t sure if you imagined it but it was almost as if his eyes were fondly looking at you.
"I wasnt expecting this too, I had plans to enjoy this free time but being stuck with you wasn't completely bad." he shrugged, a lopsided smile formed on his lips, " You're comfortable to be with" he continued.
You felt your heart was fluttering inside your chest, hundreds of butterflies were roaming in your stomach.
Your eyes traveled back to your enlaced hand only realizing that he was holding your hand the whole time.
"I think you can-uhm let go"
"Oh yea- yea sorry" he moved his hand away swiftly as if he was grounded by your touch and looked away while clearing his throat awkwardly , you peeped your eyes over his reflection on the mirror upfront and you saw a faint tint of pink on his cheeks.
All of a sudden you felt the ground underneath you started moving again.
You were both dazed, body still slumped on the floor when the doors opened. Thankfully nobody was around.
At first neither of you moved, not willing to get away from this little bubble that had formed around the two of you just yet. Then Hoseok first straightened up and pulled up his mask,extending his hands to you so that you could pull yourself up at them. You laid your palms on his, and enjoyed the way his fingers curled around yours as he helped you get up. They lingered for a little longer than necessary before letting go.
He signaled you to go out first and he followed behind you as made you way to the exit.
" So uhm you going home?" He rubbed his nape, awkwardly shifting his weight between his legs. You both faced each other, a lingering smile on both your faces.
"No I'll stop by starbucks I probably need some caffeine, how about you?" Your eyes watched him with anticipation, hoping that he would somehow stay a bit longer.
"Oh me? Ill go check out some new KAWS items before I go back to our dorm" he blurted out, his voice hesitant. Your bright smile instantly fades from your face.
"Oh- okay.... Im really glad to meet you, Hoseok" you were beyond happy, but saying goodbye after a short bittersweet encounter, you felt a slight pang on your chest.
"Same here, uhm I should go... Bye-bye Y/N" hint of sadness was evident on his voice, or it was just your wishful thinking. He waved goodbye and turned his back on you.
You gave one final glance at his departing image, walking away from you. You turned on your heel, with a heavy heart as you took lazy steps away from him.
"Wait Y/N." you heard him call out that made you body automatically turn around before realizing it. He was sprinting towards you and heaved loudly before he spoke.
" Im actually a big fan of coffee, mind if I accompany you?" he scatched his temple awkwardly, his eyes looking elsewhere to avoid your gaze.
Being a fan of Hoseok, you know too well that he wasn't fond of coffee. Just by the look on his face you could already tell he was making an excuse knowing how bad he is at lying, yet you find it adorable of him to make such silly excuses.
A playful smile appeared on your lips as you looked at him dearly.
"I mean unlike you, I cant just Google you and find out more about you... I shoudnt have said that" he blurted out loud, the last words were spoken timidly as his hand covered his lips and defiantly made himself chuckle.
"May I?" you could hear him talk in pout, his eyes exactly looked like his favorite emoji.
You suppressed the urge to giggle at his sweet demeanor, His cuteness that charmed you since day one.
You liked Hoseok as an idol but meeting him personally made you like him even more. The reason behind wasn't just his beauty, it was his personality that you fell in love with in the first place.
You know much he easily gets scared yet he managed to stay strong for you. He chose to be brave for your own good. You still remembered how his soft hands slightly trembled earlier, yet he concealed it with his warmest smile.
There are some moments when a small coincidence you experience grows into a huge thing called fate, and you were ready to face what lies ahead.
"Sure!"
-fin-
(A/N: lemme know your thoughts about this one, your comments will be much appreciated~)
#bts#bts army#bts fluff#bts cute#jhope fanfic#hoseok fanfic#hoseok fluff#jhope fluff#bts hoseok#bts jhope#bangtan#bangtan fanfic#bts fanfic#bts masterlist#bangtan au#bts au fanfic#jhope x reader#hoseok x reader#bangtan x you#bangtan x reader#bts fanfiction#bangtan fanfiction#bts fanfic rec#fanfic rec#bts x reader#kpop#k idol#korean#k artist
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