#you prep to return to your hometown
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Do y'all think when Peeta came back from the Capitol he was partially looking at Katniss in the manner he was when he saw her in such a disheveled state after the war partially because after an intense amount of therapy and prepping to live as her neighbor again, he was just standing there like "I was scared of THIS??"
#like could you imagine being hijacked to believe this girl is an immensely dangerous creature engineered specifically to kill thousands#and youve spent MONTHS completely convinced of this as 100% solid facts#and then after probably a year?? of intense therapy#you prep to return to your hometown#which is almost nothing#you're probably a little nervous to see her again because even though you're better there's obviously gonna be some PTSD there still#only to be met with this tiny girl who is an absolute M E S S#and is probably terrified of her own shadow#like obviously he was concerned for her and wanted to make sure she was okay but you cant tell me there wasnt some small part of him#that was like “this is a child”#mans was probably low key impressed with how they managed to pull off the terrifying angle after that tbh#peeta mellark#katniss and peeta#the hunger games peeta#thg series#thg#katniss everdeen#thg katniss#the hunger games#the hunger games katniss#hijacked
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look down on me like that - 8 (explicit)
genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst that is no longer eventual 👀)
pairing: yoongi x reader
summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.
word count: *deep breath in* 15.3k
contains: explicit sexual content and discussion of some dark themes .....yyyyyep 🤐 includes past-tense discussions of the d3ath of a parent (reader's) and su1c1dal ideation (yoongi's) so please tread carefully loves 💜 some references to alcohol per usual, and plenty of confusing feelings and piss-poor communication..... i'll leave the rest as a surprise 👀 but here are your smut-specific warnings: kissing (‼️), nipple play, clit stim, a single pussy slap lol, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting (🤭), unprotected sex and pulling out (💀), orgasm denial of sorts, but it's cool bc reader has multiple orgasms, ok byeeeee~
A/N: welp..... i'm off to enter witness protection in case you all decide you hate this chapter 💀 not really but heuhjkghkfjgdsf dear god am i nervous to post this lmfao. hope you're ready for some ~answers to questions~ and a whole lotta callbacks to earlier chapters idk why i shoved them all in ch8 specifically but here you go. the scene at yoongi's apartment was one of the very first things i dreamt up in regards to this story and it's nuts to me that we're all the way here now 💜 hope you're ready for a little more insight into these two! also baby goth fans don't come for me..... i promise we'll get a better resolution there..... reader and yoongi just have to survive LA first 😩
an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for being wonderful betas, and to @nabiolive for the dead parent sensitivity read lmfao I LOVE Y'ALL
read on AO3!
chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine
~*~
In the morning, you wake up well before your alarm with an inexplicable uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. When it’s clear sleep is a lost cause, you decide to just get up, and you move through your routine slowly. Everything feels distant, not quite real, like it’s happening to someone else.
On the bus ride to the office, you let your eyes drop closed and try desperately not to replay the events of last night back. You should feel bad about the sex on the conference room table, and you do, a little. But your mind is stuck somewhere else.
Rain streaking down Yoongi’s windshield. The silence as he drove, disturbed only by the low rumble of his voice. The way he’d looked at you, and the heavy pause that hung in the air between you, for just a moment, until you’d fumbled open the door of his car and had practically ran back to the safety of your apartment. And his story— he’d told you something personal, with no malice or hidden agenda that you can manage to find, no matter how much you search for one. Something from when he was just a kid, growing up in Daegu.
You’re embarrassed to admit that it never even occurred to you that Min Yoongi might be a person with a past and a hometown and stories to tell. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always just felt like… a menace. A life-ruiner. An inescapable force.
The thoughts follow you as you step off the bus and make your way into the building and onto the elevator. You can’t figure it out. Yoongi could’ve easily left you to suffer in the rain, but instead he did something nice for you, without asking for anything in return. He’d related to you. He’d let you in, barely, but it’s something.
And you have no idea what to make of it.
Polite small talk with Jungkook as you unlock the front doors is a decent distraction, but you wonder if he can tell that you’re not all the way there today. You set your bag on your desk, then circle around to take a seat, only half-listening as he continues to talk.
“Did you stay late last night?”
You swear your heart stops beating. “What?”
He shrugs, like it’s an obvious question. “There’s the big overseas thing today. I’m sure you had a bunch of stuff to prep. Hopefully it wasn’t too late of a night?”
“No.” The word comes out harsher than you mean it to. You’re not quite sure why your body is suddenly doing emotional alchemy, taking your fear of being caught and somehow turning it into anger. “It wasn’t,” you say firmly.
Jungkook makes a face, like he knows he’s touched a nerve but can’t figure out why. “Okay. That’s good.”
You don’t respond— you just try to control your breathing, try to will your heart to quit racing as you start up your laptop and pretend to suddenly be engrossed in it.
“Well,” he tries again after a moment’s pause. “I guess I’ll see you at the presentation thing.”
“Okay,” you answer, your voice a little softer this time, but you’re still too scared to look away from your screen. When you do eventually work up the courage, he’s already gone.
Before you even have the chance to glance back down, like some universal joke at your expense, the front door of the office is pushed open, and Yoongi steps through. Annoyed as you are, you can only be grateful that his entrance didn’t overlap with Jungkook’s question. You probably would have died of embarrassment on the spot.
Yoongi’s usual dark sunglasses are nowhere to be found today, and he’s in nice clothes for the presentation, a button-down and dress pants, his hair styled. He does still have a death grip on a large iced coffee, but that’s to be expected, especially given the fact that he’s in a lot earlier than is typical for him.
It’s only when his eyes snap over to you for the briefest of seconds that you see the dark shadows sunken deep beneath them, weighing heavy on his face.
Yoongi’s gaze moves back to the hallway in front of him as quickly as it alighted on you. You open your mouth before you even understand why you’re doing it.
“Yoongi?”
He stops dead in his tracks and blinks at you a few times, clearly tired, clearly not expecting the interruption. “Yeah?”
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
His mouth pulls into a flat line as he shakes his head. “Nerves. It’s why I don’t do stuff like this. Unless forced.”
You nod, unsure of what to say— or why you even asked. “Oh. Well, uh. Good luck.”
Yoongi lifts his coffee in a parting gesture, then disappears toward his lab without another word.
You try to focus on your work, to shove the interaction to the back of your mind with everything else you’re avoiding, but the screen seems to blur in front of you, until you finally push back from your desk with an exasperated sigh. The emails can wait.
Maybe, you consider, it would be good to stretch your legs. You can head into the presentation room early to set up before everyone arrives, and make sure everything is working for the several hours of agenda lined up for the morning.
Setting your shoulders back, you grab your things and make your way down the hallway. The thought feels like a good idea until you push the door open and encounter a severe case of deja vu.
Yoongi glances up from his laptop at the front of the room, blearily rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “Is it time already?”
You hover in the threshold, unsure. “Uh— I mean, not quite. I’m early. I can go, if you want.”
He shrugs, busying himself with something on his computer screen. “You’ll have to hear it anyway. Can I just run through it one more time?”
You take a few tentative steps forward, dropping your bag and laptop on the table, right where you sat to watch him the night before. The energy in the room feels entirely different now, and your stomach is twisted into knots that you can’t manage to breathe deep enough to untangle.
“Yeah, fine.” You pause, unable to help yourself. “Just… don’t expect the same treatment as last night.”
Yoongi huffs a dark laugh. “I wasn’t.”
Taking a seat at the table, you set about your admin duties and try to ignore the way Yoongi mumbles over his presentation as he taps through his slides at the front of the room. There’s only so much you can do without bothering him, and you fly through those tasks all-too quickly. You drag your bottom lip between your teeth as you glance back up at Yoongi, and then you inhale to steady yourself before you speak.
“Can you turn on the mic?”
His head snaps up, caught off guard. “Hmm?”
“I need to make sure the mic is working.” Yoongi’s gaze flits to the podium’s built in-microphone, then back to you as he presses the switch to turn it on. “Say something into it,” you instruct. “It doesn’t matter what.”
Yoongi’s eyes move back to the microphone, and it’s like you can see the delay in his brain from lack of sleep. You don’t know what you were expecting— maybe a half-assed ‘check, check’, at worst some sexual or smart-ass remark. Instead, he leans in far closer than is necessary, until his mouth is nearly touching the microphone as he whispers into it.
“Sugaaaaa.”
The live demo of the notorious producer tag that intros all of his tracks is so ridiculous, so unexpected, that you can’t help it. You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth a few seconds too late. “What the fuck was that?!” The question is only muffled slightly by your palm.
Yoongi’s head drops forward, his dark hair falling in his face, and you can see his shoulders shaking with laughter, too. “Sorry,” he manages with a gasp for breath, tilting back up to speak into the microphone, which you can now actually tell is working properly. “I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m going insane.”
You uncover your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief.
The sudden loud buzz of your phone against the conference room table makes you jump, and you quickly reach for it, for fear it might be an emergency text from your boss that needs immediate attention. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see it’s actually from Jungkook.
Presentation thing? Wanna sit together?
You read the words again and again, and a strange feeling rises up in your chest that you can’t quite name. As you stare down at your phone, you hear the distinct sound of Yoongi’s laptop shutting, and then his voice, no longer amplified by the microphone when he mutters to himself, “Fuck it. It’s as good as it’s gonna get.”
Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you glance up at Yoongi again, then back down at the text. With a final hard swallow, you turn your phone on silent and flip it over on the table, leaving Jungkook’s question unanswered.
The time is close enough now that you get to your feet to prop open the presentation room door, and then your colleagues quickly start to file into the space, filling in the seats around the large U-shaped arrangement of tables. It’s everything you can do to keep your expression neutral as your brain unhelpfully reminds you that Yoongi fucked you on one of these tables last night.
You try to manage something close to a smile when your boss enters with the team from the American office in tow, and you proceed to exchange pleasantries with them and fake laugh at their jokes when he introduces you.
As you’re listening diplomatically to one of them drone on about the flight to Seoul, you spot Jungkook slip in the door out of the corner of your eye, and it takes extra effort to keep the smile plastered on your face. The seats on either side of yours have long since been taken, and you glance over to see his eyes sweep the room before he moves to take an open spot at the far end.
You watch unabashedly now as he leans back in his chair, tilting to one side to pull his phone out of his pocket, and you can only pray he’s watching TikToks with the sound off rather than checking for a text that’s never coming.
When your manager repeats a question meant for you, your attention snaps back to the group. Sure your smile is nearly a grimace now, you apologize and blame the distraction on needing more coffee, which is enough to earn you a polite chuckle.
Eventually the room takes their seats as your manager moves to the front to start the presentation. You stay focused on copying down minutes as various speakers go through the company’s financials for the previous four quarters, the roadmap for the coming years, and a summary of top-level talent that the label has signed or directly worked with.
The discussion of talent leads smoothly into a quick review of achievements and nominations, and then Yoongi steps to the front of the room.
As he launches in, you can’t get over the stark difference between the Yoongi you’re used to and the one standing behind the podium in front of you. The man with the easy, confident, cocky demeanor is nowhere to be found, replaced with someone who barely looks up from his slides and speaks at a rushed pace, like he’s trying to get the words out as fast as possible. You bite down firmly on your bottom lip and try not to react at all.
He’s nearly halfway done now, and just as you’re thinking he might make it through the whole thing unscathed, Yoongi stumbles slightly over his words. It’s not a lot, a little slip-up that the rest of the room probably didn’t even notice, but you see a momentary flash of panic in his dark eyes. And then those eyes snap up to meet yours, and your stomach drops.
The memory of the two of you in this room, the thought of what you’d be doing to him if you were alone again, the way you could so easily make his voice shake and his knees threaten to buckle with just your mouth— it’s all too much.
You can’t help yourself as the smile you’ve been desperately trying to hide starts to spread across your face, equal parts supportive and indecent.
There’s a beat of silence, not long enough for anyone to think anything of it, and then Yoongi drops your gaze as quickly as he found it. He squints back down at his computer screen, and though he leans away from the microphone, you don’t miss the unmistakable sound of him clearing his throat.
“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and then he picks up where he left off, managing to get back on track without further issue.
You desperately try to ignore the warm flush of heat that creeps up your neck as Yoongi goes through the rest of his slides.
Time seems to speed by in a rush after his presentation, and you barely manage to keep up with the barrage of content. You’re more than grateful when your manager inevitably wraps up the session, reminding everyone to head to a nearby restaurant for a team lunch immediately following.
As the room begins to empty, you take your time finishing up the notes and firing them off to the broader audience. When you finally close your laptop and look up, you realize nearly everyone has left now, though as fate would have it, Yoongi has also lagged behind. He’s standing hunched over the conference room table as he types something into his own laptop.
You try not to overthink it as you hug your computer to your chest and take a few steps toward him. “Yoongi?”
He hums a response, and when he glances up at you, the bags under his eyes are just as prominent as before.
“Are you, uh— coming to lunch?”
He rolls his eyes, like the question is ridiculous. “I can’t. I’m drowning in shit I put off for the last two days.”
His words make you take a step back, and you immediately feel stupid for asking. Why do you even care what he does? “Right. Got it.”
You don’t wait around for him to say anything else, you just shove your laptop into your purse and pull the strap over your shoulder as you head for the exit.
Largely preoccupied with getting away from Yoongi, you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings as you slip out of the room, and you only get a few steps down the hall before a voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “There you are.”
“Jesus!” you gasp, whipping around to find Jungkook leaning up against the glass wall of the conference room, his arms crossed over his chest. “You fucking scared me, Baby Goth.”
“Sorry.” He gives a shy smile, nose scrunching slightly like he’s embarrassed. “I wasn’t gonna let you ditch me again. Lunch?”
You do your best to match his smile. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
The two of you meet up with the rest of the team at a restaurant well out of your price range, and Jungkook babbles freely as he stuffs his face, seemingly unbothered by how little you have to say in return. The chatter of so many people at the long table is a white noise that you can’t focus on any part of, and Jungkook’s usual comforting presence feels overwhelming today, nearly stifling. You push food back and forth on your plate but barely eat, your stomach uneasy for reasons you don’t want to dwell on.
“Min Suga seemed like he didn’t even want to be up there.” The mention of Yoongi’s pseudonym is enough to snap you out of your haze.
“Huh?” You glance up at Jungkook, your eyes widening slightly, and you force yourself to eat another bite of pasta as he continues.
“I don’t know, he went through it so fast. Guess it makes sense. He hates anything that drags him out of his lab, right?”
You aimlessly twirl your fork against your plate, around and around. When you first started this job, you would have agreed with Jungkook without a second thought. Laughed about it, even. Now you’re not so sure. You don’t want to add to this growing sense of friction, the weird energy in the air, but the words come out anyway.
“He was nervous, Jungkook.”
When you meet his gaze again, Jungkook looks confused, and you instantly regret saying anything at all.
“What, did he tell you that?”
You nod as you take another bite of food to avoid having to explain yourself.
Jungkook’s eyes drift down to the table between you, distant, his brow furrowed like he’s suddenly doing some complex mental math. “When?”
“Last night,” you murmur through your mouthful. “We both worked late. I helped him practice a little.” The explanation was meant to make the situation sound less incriminating, but somehow you feel like it only makes it worse. You hope Jungkook can’t tell how warm your face is starting to get.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low, his gaze still not meeting yours. “I thought you said you didn’t stay late. When I asked you this morning.”
A rush of adrenaline hits your bloodstream so hard it makes you dizzy. “I—I didn’t. It wasn’t that late. Like an hour max. Didn’t seem worth mentioning.” You set your fork down, quickly hiding your hands in your lap so Jungkook can’t see the way they’ve started to tremble.
His only response is a slow nod, and then he goes quiet in a way that’s rare for him. It feels like an eternity of sitting and eating in silence before either of you says another word.
The conversation eventually picks back up again, and when it does, you try to tell yourself you’re just imagining that it’s slightly more stilted than before.
As you and Jungkook trail after the rest of your coworkers on the walk back to the office, you trade a few more polite questions about work-related projects, and then you fall quiet again, seemingly out of things to say. It’s a few stretches of city blocks, and then you see Jungkook’s head tip up, and he outright sniffs the air.
You can’t help but laugh a little, mostly because he looks like a dog, and then you smell it too. The unmistakable aroma coming from the street cart up ahead. You smile softly to yourself as you both slow to pass it, ogling rice cakes and fish cakes simmering in a pan of spicy sauce.
“God,” Jungkook groans appreciatively. “I would absolutely destroy some tteokbokki right now if I didn’t think I’d literally explode.”
“This is what happens when you help yourself to thirds every time you eat,” you chide him with a giggle, and the two of you nod to the vendor before you continue on toward the office. You only take a few more steps before you falter, and Jungkook turns back when he notices you’ve stopped.
“What’s up? Did you want to get some?”
You don’t know what makes you lie. “Uh, no. I, uh— I just realized, I think I left my scarf back at the restaurant. I’m gonna run back, but don’t worry about waiting for me. You’ve got work stuff.”
Jungkook shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “It’s cool, I can go with you.”
“No, that’s okay,” you say, firmly enough to make it very obvious you don’t want company. Maybe a little too firm, because Jungkook blinks, like he’s taken aback. Your stomach twists with a feeling that you imagine must be similar to having just kicked a puppy.
“Oh. Alright, well. I’ll see you later, then.” He pauses for a moment, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and then he turns on his heel and keeps walking in the direction of the office. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch Jungkook’s retreating form until he disappears down the city block.
You try not to overthink the interaction as you retrace your steps to the cart, then head back to the office with a takeout bag gripped in one hand. Thankfully you don’t have to fumble for another lie of an excuse, because you don’t run into Jungkook or anyone else in your straight shot from the entrance to the door of Yoongi’s lab. Quick as you can, you punch in the lock code, then push the handle down and slip inside.
It takes you a minute to process what you’re seeing as you shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s arms are folded on the desk in front of him, and he’s slumped forward, head buried in the crook of his elbow. For a brief moment your heart drops, and then you take a tentative step closer and realize there’s no shake or shudder to his shoulders, only the smooth rise and fall of deep, steady breathing.
He’s asleep.
You close the remaining distance until you can reach out and gently place a hand on his back. “Yoongi?”
He inhales sharply, and you quickly pull your hand away like you’ve just been burned. Tilting his head to one side, he cracks an eye open, mumbling something that sounds like a question but is otherwise fully incoherent.
“You fell asleep,” you say dumbly, and Yoongi slowly sits up with a grunt, his eyes squinting, clearly readjusting to the room around him. He leans back to stretch, and several places in his back and shoulders crack impressively loudly.
“Fuck,” he sighs, voice strained, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Why are you in here?”
“I brought you lunch,” you murmur, lifting the takeout bag for him to witness. He frowns at it, then up at you, like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.
“Thanks,” he eventually manages. “You can just leave it. I’m nowhere near done with all my—”
You cut him off before he can finish. “Go home, Yoongi.”
The look of slack-jawed confusion on his face is enough to nearly make you laugh. “What?”
“I said go home.”
His brow furrows. “You’re not my boss.”
“I’m not saying it as your boss,” you sigh. “But you need to eat, and sleep. This isn’t healthy.”
Yoongi huffs a little, exasperated. “That’s easy for you to say, but I have so much stupid admin stuff to get caught up on.” He gestures halfheartedly to a massive to-do list pulled up on his monitor, one he’s barely a quarter of the way through.
Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you hum, feigning thought. “If only you had someone who could help with that. Some kind of… Admin Bitch.”
The comment must catch him off-guard, because he outright laughs. “You know, I still haven’t changed your contact name.”
You quirk an eyebrow. “Then you should go before I question why I’m being nice to you. I’ll leave a note for tomorrow with anything I can’t figure out for myself. Assuming you trust my ability to do my job.” As if to indicate that you are no longer open to discussing the subject, you shove the takeout bag into Yoongi’s chest, and he wraps both arms around it, still looking entirely dazed.
But to your surprise, he doesn’t fight you, just slowly rolls his desk chair back and gets to his feet. You watch carefully as he shifts the bag of food to one arm, then grabs his work bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I, uh— thanks.”
You wave a hand as if to tell him not to mention it, and then you plop down into his chair and get to work, barely phased by the sound of the door clicking shut when he leaves.
~*~
As you settle in at your desk the next morning, it dawns on you how close the Grammys have started to loom, made abundantly clear by the overwhelming amount of prep you find yourself launched into. You don’t think you look up from your screen once, not even bothering to greet coworkers as they push through the doors, until the muted tap of something being placed on your desk startles you.
You see the cup of coffee first, and when you glance up expecting a pair of Baby Star Candy eyes, you instead find Yoongi hovering at the edge of your desk, like he’s not sure what he’s doing there. You make zero attempts to hide your total shock at whatever the fuck is going on in this moment.
He looks— good. Fresh-faced, like he managed to actually get some sleep, a little less gaunt. Even his expression seems weirdly pleasant, something you might mistake for happiness if you thought that he was capable of such an emotion.
There’s a crinkling sound, and when he gently sets a small wax paper pastry bag on your desk next to the coffee, you’re sure that you’ve overslept your alarm and are in the depths of a wild, ridiculous dream. It’s the only way any of this can be happening.
You blink up at him as you hesitantly reach for the bag, like you’re scared it might bite you.
“It’s maple,” he says as you slowly pick it up and investigate the contents. It’s still warm. “I asked for the most disgustingly sweet thing they had.”
Too overwhelmed, you set the pastry bag back down wordlessly. As you do, it’s only now that your eyes focus on the letters “AB” sketched in black marker on the side of the coffee cup, where a barista would typically write your name.
Yoongi’s eyes must be watching yours carefully, because he huffs a laugh as he sees realization dawn over your face. “Making them actually write Admin Bitch seemed a bit much.”
You can’t manage to find a laugh to match his, can only sit there, shell-shocked. When you look up again, he’s already walking backwards in the direction of his lab, but his eyes are still on you. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone, but I don’t think they’d believe you even if you did.”
And just like that, he’s gone again.
You remain unconvinced that both of his gifts aren’t secretly poisoned, but your desperate need for a fresh hit of caffeine overwhelms any other emotion. Carefully, you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip— it’s not scalding, but still perfectly hot, and your eyes widen as the flavor hits your tongue.
Two cream, three sugar. Exactly how you like it.
Before you’ve even had time to swallow, Jungkook is suddenly rounding the corner from the opposite direction, and you have to make a conscious effort not to choke.
He slows to a stop, and you watch him take in the coffee cup clutched between your hands like a lifeline. “Hey! You seriously snuck out for coffee without me?” His tone is mock-hurt, but you can’t help wondering whether it’s entirely put on.
Your gaze drops back down to the cup. “Sorry, JK. Someone else picked this up for me.”
Jungkook doesn’t pry into your vague statement, but a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that maybe he doesn’t have to.
~*~
It’s Saturday night by the time your schedule aligns with Jimin’s for a night out, and given that it’s the last time you’ll see him before you leave for Los Angeles, you manage to guilt him into driving. The bar you choose is a shitty dive nowhere near your office, where you’re certain you won’t have to worry about any accidental encounters.
Or any encounters at all, as it turns out. The place is dead.
“I think we’re single-handedly keeping them open tonight,” Jimin murmurs with a grimace as you grab a pair of stools.
The bartender pours you each two shots and two beers, then returns to their side work at the far end of the bar in an apparent attempt to give the two of you some privacy.
It’s only once you’ve had your first shot and are halfway through the accompanying beer that you’re able to speak the words aloud: “I had sex in the office again.”
Jimin glances up at the ceiling, as if asking for strength, and you recount the full story mostly to the wood grain in front of you, unable to look your best friend in the face while you catch him up on everything.
When you fill in the final details, Jimin nearly spits his drink out. “Suga really hatefucked you on a conference table?! I need to go buy some lottery tickets.” He throws back his second shot, and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows it down. “God, I love being psychic.”
You shove an elbow into his ribs. “Listen. I don’t know what’s fucking happening anymore, Mochi. Sometimes he’s insufferable but now sometimes we apparently mildly tolerate and are even nice to each other. Like, coffee and a pastry nice.” You smack your hand on the bar for emphasis as you repeat the words. “Coffee. And. A. Pastry.”
“So,” Jimin clasps his hands together as he surveys you. There’s a look on his face like he’s clearly expecting you to draw some conclusion from all of this, but it seems to have entirely escaped you. “What have we learned?”
You drop your head down on the bar with a resounding thud. “We’ve learned that Min Yoongi is ruining my life.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Voice muffled slightly, you groan. “Don’t make me say it louder.”
“No, what did you just say?” You lift your head up to look at him, and his expression is deadly serious, his eyes sharp and focused. “Min Yoongi? I know Min Yoongi.”
You give him the same look right back. “You what?”
“We were trainees together. I— wait, Min Yoongi is Suga the producer? Really?!” He scrambles for his phone and you just sit there, dumbfounded.
“How are you only now telling me that you know him?”
Jimin glances up, incredulous. “Um, hi, because you literally never fucking told me Suga is Min Yoongi?”
You roll your eyes. “Please, surely I have said his name to you at least once.”
It’s Jimin’s turn to smack the bar, and he does so loudly. “Run those tapes back, ma’am! We have always called him Suga.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never even Googled him?!”
He makes a face like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. “I am an adult, with a job and a very needy boyfriend. Your chaos already monopolizes too much of my time.”
The search on his phone loads, and you watch Jimin tap and scroll slowly, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Min Yoongi is Suga. Wow. I think I need a minute.”
Jimin’s earlier words finally catch up to you, and you finish the last of your first beer before you dare ask the question. “Yoongi was really a trainee?”
“He was,” Jimin confirms, gaze still locked on his phone. “Obviously he didn’t debut either. He left a few months before I did. I always wondered what happened to him.”
“What was he like?” Your voice comes out soft, a little unsure.
His eyes widen, staring off unfocused as he searches through his memory. “I mean, we weren’t super close, he’s a few years older than me. But it doesn’t sound like that much has changed if I think about what you’ve told me. He was quiet, not too personable. Worked hard. Didn’t really seem that close to anybody. I think maybe he had a difficult home life?”
Your stomach drops a little as Jimin pauses, choosing his words. “Like I guess his parents weren’t very supportive. So I think he felt like he had a lot to prove, and had really high standards for himself. But he obviously loved music. Makes sense that he ended up a producer. It’s like me and dance, right?” He picks up his beer with a shrug, staring thoughtfully down at the amber liquid. “Man. Those years were tough.”
As Jimin takes a sip of his drink and then continues on about his trainee days, your head starts to spin. You throw back your second shot in hopes that it might help.
You wish you could go back and unlearn this information, unsay the name Min Yoongi. Because you don’t want to think about him. You don’t want to know that Min Yoongi gets nervous about public speaking, that he likes his coffee iced, that he can’t say no to street cart tteokbokki, that he used to be a trainee, that he worked an unpaid job in Daegu, that he had a disapproving family and never felt good enough and maybe still doesn’t.
Min Yoongi was so simple when you first met him, back when he was a two-dimensional character, the antagonist of your TV show life, your enemy. But now he’s none of those things. He’s a real, flawed, complicated person, and your feelings for him are confusing and overwhelming. And you deeply do not want to think about your feelings. You don’t want to examine them, don’t want to hold them up to the light for fear of what you might find. It occurs to you in this moment that you don’t want to think about anything at all.
With a sigh, you scoot your chair back from the bar, then get to your feet.
“What are you doing?” Jimin interrupts himself to ask as you dig your phone out of your purse.
You’re doing the only thing that makes sense. “I’m gonna go fuck him,” you say, resigned, and then you make your way out the front door of the bar as you pull up Yoongi’s contact in your phone.
It’s only as the line starts to ring that you realize you don’t exactly have a location in mind. Sex in a bar bathroom is an experience you have no desire to repeat, and the thought of Yoongi seeing your shithole apartment makes your drinks threaten a return appearance.
You’re starting to consider that maybe you should just hang up and forget the idea entirely when Yoongi’s voice startles you.
“Uh, hi?”
“Hi.”
There’s a pause as you realize you didn’t actually plan how to have this conversation, and then you and Yoongi speak in tandem.
“I was just wondering—”
“Is there a reason you—”
“Shut up,” you snap, agitated by your own awkwardness. “What are you doing right now?”
Yoongi laughs darkly into the phone. “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”
“Answer the question, asshole.”
There’s a slight shifting sound, like he’s making himself comfortable. “Nothing. Drinking.”
“Great, same here.”
Another pause, and you swear you can hear Yoongi slow blinking, can see the stupid smirk on his face when you close your eyes. “Would you like to come over, then?”
“Yes,” you answer, trying to sound more confident than you feel, and then you falter slightly. You’re not about to ask Jimin to drive you— you don’t trust him enough to stay in the car and behave, not when he’s been drinking. “Uh, are you by any chance near a bus stop?”
Yoongi doesn’t even try to suppress his snort of laughter. “I’m not. But I can send a car.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you say quickly, trying to think. “I can figure something—”
“Please,” Yoongi cuts you off. “If you’re really calling me begging to get fucked, the least I can do is provide the transportation. Just send me your location.”
“Fine,” you concede, and your voice comes out harsh. “But to be clear, I am not begging.”
He hums a low note, like he’s thinking it over. “Not yet,” he ultimately responds. “See you soon.”
You swallow hard as the call disconnects.
The time it takes for the car to arrive is just enough for you to slip back inside and finish your beer, and Jimin’s eyes narrow with frustration when you’re unable to explain yourself.
“Didn’t you just complain that this man was ruining your life?”
“Yes,” you retort. “And then I thought it over, and I decided that’s my job.” Your phone buzzes with the notification that the car is outside, and you quickly swig the last of your drink. “Bye.”
Jimin’s face twists like he’s holding further commentary back, which you didn’t think he was capable of doing without combusting. “Alright, babygirl,” he finally sighs, defeated. “Call me if you need saving.”
“I always do,” you deadpan as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.
~*~
Yoongi doesn’t say anything when he opens the door for you, just nods his head to the interior of his apartment to gesture you inside, letting the door swing wider so you can step past him. He shuts it again as you slip your heels off, and it takes you a second to adjust to your true height difference, the fact that you have to look a little further up to meet his gaze now.
“Want a drink?” is his delayed greeting, and you shrug.
“Yeah, okay. Just whatever you’re having.”
Without another word, he turns and heads down the hallway, and you follow after him, taking in your surroundings as you move further inside. It’s only now that it occurs to you how rich he must be. His place is identical to any one of the swanky, million-dollar Hannam apartments of which you’ve spent thousands of hours watching YouTube tours. You try to keep your expression neutral as you follow him into the living room, but it’s hard not to be impressed.
Yoongi crosses the room to a mini-bar, built into the far wall and softly backlit with inset LEDs. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you hover nervously for a second, then finally choose to drop down onto the large, L-shaped couch, setting your purse on the floor next to you.
“Thoughts—” When Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, you start a little, not expecting it. “—on single malt whiskey?” He turns over his shoulder, and you shrug back at him.
“Never met one I didn’t like.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up, just barely. “Alright.” You watch as he grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf, coating the bottom of a glass with the amber liquid inside, then just barely topping up what must be his own drink. He crosses back to the couch, hands you yours, then drops down a respectable distance away from you with a sigh of effort.
The atmosphere is certainly different from what you’d expected, and Yoongi must be able to tell you’re a little on edge, not sure what to do or why you thought coming here was a good idea.
He glances over at you as he swirls the contents of his glass. “Not feeling up for much small talk tonight. Sorry.”
“That’s fine,” you say quickly. “We don’t have to talk.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, you grit your teeth in anticipation of the smug smile, the cocky smirk at your unintended double meaning, but it never comes. Yoongi stays just as he is, slouched forward, his eyes unfocused, like he’s got a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once.
You turn sideways on the couch so you can look over the back of it and out of the large picture window behind you, where the city is alive in a blur of light and color, bracketed by the dark swath of the Han River.
Yoongi’s whiskey is strong but smooth, tastes like the bottle probably cost more than the entire bar-tab you and Jimin rang up tonight, and you sip it slowly. The thought of your best friend sparks something in your mind— you find yourself speaking again in spite of your previous statement.
“I just found out that you know my best friend. Park Jimin.”
At this, Yoongi looks up, clearly stunned. “No shit?” You nod, taking another pull from your drink, and he shakes his head. “I haven’t heard that name in years. How is he?”
“He’s good,” you murmur, the sharp taste of alcohol lingering on the back of your tongue. “He’s really good. He actually just performed in the concert I took Jungkook to.”
Yoongi pauses, glass halfway to his lips. “What group is he in? For someone in the industry I am atrocious at keeping up with this shit.”
“Oh, he’s not, he’s just a back-up dancer now. He never debuted.”
Yoongi nods slowly. “Well. Makes two of us.”
Your chest starts to tighten a little— you’re weirdly nervous to talk to him about this. It feels like uncharted territory. “I can’t believe you were a trainee.”
He leans back, resting his free arm over the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly. “I can’t either, most days. It was a long time ago. Feels like it happened to somebody else.”
Torn between deep curiosity and not wanting to pry, you stare down at the liquid swirling in your glass and leave it up to Yoongi. To your surprise, he keeps talking.
“So what did Jimin tell you about me?”
The unexpected question makes you laugh a little. “Uh… I don’t know. Said you sound like you’re still the same as you were back then. Keeping to yourself and working a lot.”
You don’t know if you should repeat everything, but the liquor loosens your tongue. “He said your parents weren’t very supportive.”
You glance up to see Yoongi shake his head, matter-of-fact. “They were not. So you can imagine how well they took it when I quit.” Your heart sinks at the thought. “Probably put a chip on my shoulder, if I want to be introspective about it. Explains the workaholic tendencies, maybe.”
He takes a longer sip of his drink this time, chasing his swallow with a grimace as he stares at the floor. “It’s funny. I always feel like I have to do better, even now. I get obsessed with work because it’s better than being depressed. And most of the time it feels like there’s nothing else to do anyway. I just work myself to death because it’s my only reason to stay alive.”
Your stomach drops sharply, and you can’t help but look over at him as he continues, feeling thoroughly unprepared for this sudden insight into the inner workings of Min Yoongi.
“It doesn’t even matter what milestones I hit, the fame, the fortune, whatever. I’m going to the fucking Grammys next week and it still doesn’t feel good enough.” His eyes flicker up to find yours, and his voice is quieter now. “Even if I win, I know it won’t. How sad is that?”
“You sound like my dad,” you mutter into your glass, and then your gaze snaps back to Yoongi as you realize what you’ve just said.
He looks as surprised as you feel, and you steady yourself as you take a swig of your drink and swallow it down. Fuck it. If he can overshare, so can you. “Work always came first, before family, before everything. And you know what happened? He dropped dead in his office before he even turned fifty. They said it was probably stress.”
There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to interrupt you.
“It makes me so mad,” you say, and you will yourself not to get emotional, your grip on your drink tightening slightly. “Because he worked so fucking hard thinking that once he got to a certain place, he’d be happy. Just a little more, then he could relax. But he never got there. He worked non-stop his whole life and then he fucking died. That’s it.
“And you know what’s really fucked up?” You don’t wait for Yoongi to respond— you can’t stop it all from coming out now, like a tap turned on high.
“People say grief makes you resilient, that it makes you stronger, or kinder, that we go through these things and they’re hard but you learn from them and grow or whatever the fuck. And I don’t feel like any of that shit is true for me. My dad died, and I just got worse.” A self-deprecating laugh flutters out around your words. “I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I make terrible choices. I deeply cannot fucking stand myself, if I’m honest with you. Jimin is like the one friend I still keep in touch with who knew me when my dad was alive, because everyone else just… didn’t know what to do with me. And I don’t blame them.
“And it makes me feel like such a fucking asshole, because he died, and I’m sitting here complaining about me. It’s like I don’t even miss him as much as I just miss… the way things used to be. The person I used to be.” You let yourself take a breath, but the final thought, the part you don’t usually say out loud, slips out with it. “It’s like she died, too.”
There’s a long pause that feels like an eternity, and you realize your heart is racing in your chest. You lean back against the couch with a sigh of frustration, too embarrassed at your own word vomit to do anything but stare at the stupidly high ceiling. You’re so wrapped up in the rush of saying it all— it’s been a while since you’ve gone this deep with anyone— that it takes you a second to notice that Yoongi is laughing softly.
“Wow. And here I thought you were just a slacker.”
The words make you glance over at him. You haven’t divulged these feelings to many people, but nearly everyone you’ve told has responded the same: awkward apologies, shitty words of affirmation you didn’t ask for, waxing poetic bullshit lies about how you’re not a bad person. A road paved with good intentions, things meant to console you that only make you want to scream.
But Yoongi gives you none of that. He just nods, like he understands.
“Well,” you counter, trying not to let the shock read on your face. “I thought you were just an asshole.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am an asshole. I’ll own that.” He smirks into his glass as he takes another sip of his drink. “Do you want to know something?”
“What?”
He suddenly pauses, like he’s not sure how to word it, like he maybe regrets asking the question at all. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so hesitant before. “You have to not make a big deal about it.”
“Okay,” you say simply. You’re willing to return the favor.
“The night I left the studio door unlocked, and there was the break-in,” Yoongi starts, his thumb fiddling with the ring on his index finger. Something twists in your stomach, an intuition you can’t explain that makes it immediately clear to you what he’s about to say. “I wasn’t thinking about locking up that night because I... was planning to kill myself.”
It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room, and you will yourself not to react, gripping your glass until your knuckles blanch. Your eyes drop to the floor as you try to process the weight of his words.
“But you didn’t,” you reply dumbly.
“No, I didn’t. I walked up and down the bridge over the river for a long time. Probably an hour, maybe more, I don’t know.” You look up to the window again, tracing the inkblot snake of the river in the distance.
“I thought about it, and then I decided to go home. I thought that maybe I could give it just one more day and see what happened. And then when I got to work the next day, I was in such deep shit about the break-in, I felt like everyone would blame themselves if I did it after that. Like they’d think they were too hard on me.” He laughs bitterly to himself. “Like I’m not always the one who is hardest on myself.”
“Yoongi,” you breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”
He shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything. It just feels nice to tell someone.”
There’s a heavy silence between you, and heat rushes to your face as the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”
He glances over at you, brows pinched together like he doesn’t believe you. “You hate me.”
“I do not!” The insistence in your voice surprises even you. In an attempt to ground yourself, you press your palm to the side of your drink and try to focus on the feeling, the cool surface against your flushed skin. “I mean, I definitely did. But now, I don’t know. Would I really be wasting my Saturday night here if I hated you?”
Yoongi pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, and you can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Look at me, you came over here to fuck and I turned it into a therapy session. Christ.”
With a final shake of his head, he downs the last of his drink in one swallow. “You want a tour?”
You follow Yoongi as he takes a winding path through the various rooms of his apartment, and you continue to sip at your drink, barely processing any of what he shows you. Your mind is still spinning from the conversation, and that paired with the cotton fuzz of strong liquor makes everything feel muted and far away.
As anticipated, the tour ends in his bedroom, which matches the rest of the place: sleek, minimally decorated, and bathed in the soft glow of inset strip lighting that runs the length of the ceiling.
When Yoongi sets his empty glass down on the dresser, you mirror him, then watch as he steps in to close the distance between you. As your eyes search his, you realize you’re once again caught between conflicting versions of Min Yoongi, still trying to reconcile the one you thought you knew with the person who just spilled his guts all over the living room floor. It feels impossible to hold the two of them together in your mind.
Up close, his smirk seems to soften. “You’re a lot shorter without those heels.”
Before you even understand what you’re doing, or why, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s only a split second, your lips barely brushing over his, and then you quickly pull away, struck by the reality of what you’ve just done.
“Shit,” you breathe, dropping your hands and taking a step back. You stumble slightly as a hot wave of shame rushes up in your chest. “Sorry, I just—”
You don’t get to finish the thought, because Yoongi’s touch is sliding over the curve of your waist, and then he’s dragging you back toward him until his mouth finds yours again. The taste of whiskey lingers on his soft lips as they move against yours— you can’t help but whimper a little at how hungrily he kisses you. Like he’s wanted to do it for a long time.
The idea overwhelms you, and you pull away from him again, your lips still ghosting over his. “Yoongi.” You try your best to sound firm when you say his name, pressing one hand against his chest as you look up at him. “This… can’t mean anything.”
You can feel the heat of his breath when he laughs softly. “It doesn’t have to. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”
Too desperate for his mouth to want to argue, you decide to let him win. “Okay,” you sigh. Your hand is already tangled in his long, dark hair by the time his lips meet yours again.
“Get on the bed,” Yoongi murmurs between kisses, and you do as he says.
Moving backwards, you crawl up toward the pillows while Yoongi crosses the room to hit a panel on the wall, dimming the soft lights overhead until they’re barely there. He comes back to join you, strong hands wordlessly guiding you to lay down beneath him.
It’s weird to not be rushing through this: to feel like you can take your time as he kisses you again, as you lick into his mouth to roll your tongue over his, as one of his hands starts to creep under your skirt to gently rub up and down the length of your thigh.
The motions of his hand push the fabric higher and higher, until it’s as far up as it can go, and he leans back, clearly not satisfied.
“Can I take this off?” he asks, and you nod, sitting up to help as he pulls your dress up over your head.
It occurs to you a beat too late that you’ve never been this naked in front of him before, and your heartbeat flutters. “You too,” you murmur, pinching gently at the hem of Yoongi’s t-shirt, and he smirks as he reaches one hand between his shoulder blades to tug it off entirely.
You take him in as he drops the shirt to his bedroom floor: he’s broad-shouldered in a way you’ve never noticed under all his baggy clothes, with firm definition in the muscles of his chest and arms, and there’s a flush of warm glow to his pale skin.
As you blink up at Yoongi, more than dazed, you realize his eyes are roaming over your body, too. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, and you resist the sudden urge to hide from his surveying gaze. “You have great tits.”
You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that, and the surprise of it makes you laugh.
“Just for that, I’ll let you see them,” you say, unable to keep the teasing edge out of your voice as you lean forward to reach behind your back. Your hands shake a little more than you’d like as you fumble to undo your bra and toss it off the side of the bed to join everything else.
Your nipples stiffen quickly in the cool air of his room, and when you lay back again, Yoongi covers your body with his, the movement paired with a groan that’s nearly a growl. You can’t hold back your own soft sounds as his lips and tongue move down your neck, and it occurs to you now that there’s so much that the two of you have never done before. So many steps you skipped.
Like the way Yoongi cups one of your breasts in his hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple to earn a louder whine from you. “Shit,” you gasp as he does it again, his mouth still trailing kisses between the valley of your breasts.
“God,” Yoongi hisses against your skin. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”
With his thumb continuing to work at one nipple, he takes the other into his mouth, and you can feel the way your arousal is starting to soak through your panties as he sucks firmly at the stiff peak. You arch up into him, and then he’s shifting to roll your nipple between his teeth and tug, and you can’t help it— you flinch and yelp beneath him, overwhelmed.
He quickly pulls his mouth off of you, eyes flashing up to find yours. “Sensitive?”
You nod, face flushing, embarrassed. “A little bit of teeth is okay. Too much hurts.”
“Okay,” Yoongi answers softly. He licks up the underside of your breast to pull the bud of it back into his mouth, and the swirl of his tongue there soothes like an apology. When he just barely grazes his teeth across the sensitive peak, it’s enough to make you keen, your eyes rolling back as they flutter closed.
“Oh, fuck, just like that.”
With a wet noise, he pulls off to switch sides, repeating the firm suction, the drag of his tongue, the slightest brush of teeth. His fingers pinch gently at your other nipple, made slick with his spit, and he keeps working you lazily, unhurried, until your body writhes underneath his.
“Yoongi—” You try to catch your breath, and you run a hand through his hair to pull his mouth off of you. His jaw is still dropped open slightly when he meets your gaze. “Touch me.”
His lips pull into a smug smile. “Told you you’d beg.”
Your grip on his hair tightens in response. “Not begging. Ordering.”
Yoongi tuts gently, like he’s disappointed. “I don’t follow orders, sweetheart.”
As much as his teasing irritates you, a twin smile to his spreads across your face. “I’ll kill you,” you murmur, releasing your grip as he shifts back onto his knees.
It gets harder to focus on your bloodlust when his palms run over the curve of your hips, then press between your legs to part your thighs. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he deadpans as his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties and he starts to drag the lace down your legs.
“That’s fucking dark,” you can’t help but laugh as you kick your underwear the rest of the way off.
Yoongi licks his lips, clearly distracted, and you spread yourself wider for him. “This pussy,” he grunts hoarsely, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gets so puffy when you want it. All tight inside, too.” He unexpectedly slaps the whole of his hand over your center, and you gasp, your hips jolting up.
You don’t even have time to respond before he’s pressing a finger into you, your cunt squeezing tight enough to reward him with an audible noise as he fucks it in and out. “Fuck,” you groan.
“You get this wet just from having your tits played with, huh?”
The thorough analysis makes you huff a laugh, because he’s not wrong, and it stutters into a moan when his thumb gently starts to circle your clit.
“God,” you manage to choke out, “you’re fucking chatty tonight.”
Yoongi smirks, and you’re not sure why until he speaks again, his voice now pinched in a clear imitation as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, is there somewhere you’d rather I put my mouth?”
Your jaw drops in disbelief as he repeats your own stupid tease from weeks ago back to you. “I’ve changed my mind,” you snap, sitting up a little, and Yoongi glances at you, already in the midst of settling between your spread thighs. “I do still hate you.”
“That’s fine,” he says with a shrug, and then he leans in to lick a thick, wet stripe up your slit. His mouth is immediately dizzying, and you drop your head back against the pillow, overwhelmed.
It’s another thing you’ve never done before, at least not with Min Yoongi. As he repeats the motion over and over, lazy long strokes where he drags his tongue from your entrance all the way up to circle your clit, you mentally kick yourself for every missed chance, every opportunity to have his mouth that you didn’t take.
“What the fuck,” you breathe.
Yoongi just barely pulls off of you, close enough that a string of your arousal is still joined to his lower lip when he speaks. “You’re not the only one with good head game here.”
He dives in again like he’s determined to immediately prove his point, and you shove your legs open wider as he sucks your clit into his mouth.
As much as you’d like to bruise his ego, it’s impossible to keep yourself from moaning when he pairs the firm suction with the press of his index finger back into your tight heat. As wet as he’s made you, he’s easily able to slide a second in beside it now, and your nails scratch helplessly over the sheets beneath you.
“Yoongi,” you gasp as he curls his digits to beckon inside you, stroking over your front wall and easily finding the spot that makes you gush. He does it again and again, like a button press, working up more and more arousal until you’re dripping down his wrist.
Even the way he hums against your pussy sounds like a smirk, but you’re too far gone to care. Yoongi starts to flick his tongue steadily over your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping into your g-spot, and you can feel the pressure in your core building, a band pulled tight enough to snap.
Your hips buck up toward his mouth in an overwhelmed reflex, and Yoongi’s free hand is immediately there like he was expecting it. His palm presses firmly to your lower abdomen to hold you down and keep you there, and even that feels good too, renders you entirely helpless to his mouth and his hands as he takes you apart.
“Fuck,” you moan, loud and unabashed now. “Fuck, yes, I’m—”
The feeling overtakes you before you can get another word out, and you nearly sob as your orgasm rips through you, your whole body straining hard against Yoongi’s strong hand as he pins you to the bed. The extra pressure on your core pushes a rush of fluid out of your cunt, enough to soak the sheets beneath you as your muscles contract around Yoongi’s fingers.
“Oh my god,” he doesn’t even pull away to groan, and the low vibration of the words against your throbbing clit makes your thighs tremble.
There’s a wet smack of his lips and tongue as he finally relents, the pace of his fingers slowing as he continues to work you through the aftershocks. You desperately try to remember how to breathe as you start to come down.
Yoongi is a fucking sight when he leans back to look up at you: long hair falling in his face, eyes dark with lust, lips and chin slick with your arousal. “Did you seriously just squirt?”
It’s been a long time since anyone has managed to make it happen, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed in a different way. Still recovering, you can barely get the words out. “Shut up.”
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘shut up’? It was hot,” Yoongi grunts, and you’re at least grateful that you don’t have to have the ‘it’s not pee’ conversation right now. He ducks his head down again as he withdraws his fingers, and his tongue drags up the crux of your thighs to chase a few stray droplets. You squirm, oversensitive, your legs nearly snapping shut around his neck, and he takes the cue to back off with a soft laugh.
You’re too spent to fight it when he starts to manhandle you a little, palms slipping under your ass to drag you further down the bed until your hips are flush with his, then encouraging your knees to pull up toward your chest. “Think you can do that on my cock?”
The question sparks something in your core, the first lick of a freshly lit flame, and you prop yourself up on your forearms to better meet his gaze. “Make me.”
Yoongi’s appreciative smile is nearly a snarl, and he shifts lower on the bed to quickly strip out of his pants and boxers. You watch as he starts to crawl back up your body, anticipation tightening in your core, and then a flash of realization crosses his face and he freezes.
“Fuck,” he swears, and your stomach drops.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot I’m out of condoms.” Your eyes widen as his gaze meets yours. “Do you have any?”
You shake your head. “Not with me.”
A muscle in his jaw works as he exhales a resigned sigh, and you reach out, one hand finding his bicep to stop him before he leaves. You want it too much, bad idea or not. “Just… fuck me anyway.”
His expression goes deadly serious, and there’s a long moment before he responds. “You’re sure?”
You swallow hard as you nod, your eyes searching his. “Just pull out, okay?” You hate yourself for saying the final word before it even leaves your lips. “Please.”
“Okay,” Yoongi repeats back to you, and his hands press to your thighs again to encourage your knees up as he positions himself between your legs. There’s a feeling humming in the space between your bodies, like the reality of the situation has settled over the both of you. The reckless abandon of the previous moment is gone, replaced with something slower, more hesitant. Heavier.
With your eyes fixed on his face, you feel it first: the weight and warmth of his cock grinding over your slit, sliding easily with how soaked you are. You look down to see it for yourself, flushed dark and hard enough to leak precum, trailing a glossy sheen over your folds as Yoongi guides it against you, one hand gripped firmly to the base. He teases the head of his dick over your clit and keeps it there, and you’re still sensitive enough to whimper at the feeling.
“Please,” you repeat, and he’s too focused to be smug about it. He just nods as he drags his cock back down to your entrance, then braces one hand against your thigh and starts to push in.
You exhale softly at the welcome stretch, familiar made new at the lack of anything between you. You can feel it all: the thick swell of the head of his cock as he eases you open, how he throbs gently as your walls squeeze around him, so tight that you can even feel the prominent veins that trace down his shaft.
You’re still wet and getting wetter from the way he fills you up entirely, your arousal drenching the length of him when he bottoms out with an audible slick sound. His cock twitches, buried to the hilt, and even that barely-there motion is enough to coax a breathy moan from you.
“Shit,” Yoongi laughs softly, and the tinge of humility to his voice makes you glance up at him again. “Not gonna be able to go that fast. Feels too good.”
“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just…”
The words won’t come. It would mean too much to say what you want, and this isn’t supposed to mean anything at all.
So you don’t say them: you just hook your arms over his shoulders and pull his mouth down to yours. “Just fuck me,” you murmur against his lips. He grunts a low note of appreciation as he kisses you, as he starts to drag his cock out of you just to fuck it back in again.
It’s shallow, it’s slow, it’s nothing like what you’re used to with Yoongi, but it’s good. Good enough to make your kisses sloppy when you trade open-mouthed breaths, good enough to make you tilt your head and slide the flat of your tongue over Yoongi’s unabashedly, like an earned reward.
He pushes your knees up a little more, thrusting deeper this time, and the new angle drags the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You whine at the heavy weight of him, the shudder that ripples through you in response, and he stays there, stroking steadily to rub that spot again and again until your eyes roll back in your head.
“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth.
“Shit,” he groans shakily, reaching one hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes. A few dark strands stick to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”
Your arousal coils hot and fast inside of you as he keeps thrusting, and you have to break away from kissing him to tip your head back on the pillow and moan. “Fuck, please don’t stop, I’m—”
It feels like the final second before your climax when Yoongi pulls out, sitting back on his knees between your spread legs with a low groan. The sudden loss of his cock makes your walls clench at nothing, and you whine, petulant. “Yoongi!”
“Sorry,” he mutters, breathless. “Almost came.” You glance up to see him squeezing at the base of his cock with one hand, his chest heaving with effort. Your hips tilt up toward him, jealous.
“I miss your cock,” you whine, fucked close enough to be shameless.
“You’ll get it,” he retorts, and then you feel three of his fingers press in to fill the space he left behind inside of you. “Want to make you come again first.”
You keen as he starts to pump them, wrist angled just right to meet your g-spot each time. “Oh fuck, Yoongi.” The arousal in your core aches as he fucks you open on his fingers, and you can hear how wet you are in the soaked squelch of your needy pussy, can feel it leaking down your thighs.
His thumb brushes over your clit with every upstroke of his hand, and it makes you gasp, your moans starting to pitch higher. “Harder, baby, please, I’m so close.”
Too lost in the feeling, you barely notice when Yoongi laughs a little, but he does as you ask, and the way he pounds into you is just enough to work you over the edge. Waves of pleasure rip through your body as you come for a second time, squirting a little on his sheets again, your thighs shaking violently.
“That’s it, there you go, fuck,” Yoongi groans appreciatively at the sight.
You’ve just barely made it past your peak, still shuddering all over, when Yoongi withdraws his fingers to shove his cock back in again, and you keen.
He thrusts like a man close to his own end, fast and hard, his breath coming in ragged pants of effort and pleasure. Your pussy pulses around him, squeezing like a vice, so swollen with sensitivity that it really does feel like he’s splitting you open every time he fucks into you.
You moan unabashedly now and cling to him all over, legs bracketing his snapping hips, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder, the other hand tangled in his hair. Your cunt throbs and gushes around him as he strokes, and it still feels like you’re coming: you can’t tell if it’s an intensely drawn-out second orgasm or if the hot stretch of his cock worked you seamlessly into a third.
When he finally pulls out, you drop back against the bed with an exhausted groan, every inch of you fucked into oblivion. You can barely focus your eyes to watch as Yoongi shoves his hips up to straddle yours, one hand working his cock until his release overtakes him.
He flattens both palms to the mattress as he starts to come, groaning softly and rocking his hips so that his cock grinds against your stomach. The head of his dick twitches visibly, leaking pulse after pulse of sticky gloss over your skin, and he smears his cock through it as he ruts against you. He keeps going, rolling his hips and rubbing the mess across your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent, until you’re both flushed and sticky all over.
“Holy fucking shit,” is all he can manage when he finally collapses down on the bed next to you.
You glance over at him and nod, trying to imply without speaking that the feeling is mutual. He meets your gaze, and you lay like that for several long minutes of silence as your breathing slows, eyes fixed on each other as your heartbeats race through the comedown.
It’s hard to believe that any part of tonight has been real, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
As the post-orgasm glow starts to settle, exhaustion hits you like a train. You groan, breaking the prolonged eye contact to throw an arm over your face, blocking out Yoongi’s bedroom with the crook of your elbow.
You’re not expecting it when he softly says your name, and something in your gut tells you that whatever’s coming isn’t good. You will yourself not to look back again, to stay as still as a statue when you answer him. “Hmm?”
“You know Jungkook is in love with you, right?”
The plan to not move goes out the window at his words. Your pulse spikes, and you drop your arm to look at him, your face twisted in confusion. “What?!”
Yoongi studies your expression for a second, then makes a small hum of surprise. “Interesting. I figured you were just trying to let him down easy.”
“I— what?”
“You really didn’t know?” He scoffs, and his tone is enough to instantly make you set your jaw. “It’s pretty obvious. It’s funny, I guess he’s sort of inadvertently responsible for all of this.”
That takes a second to sink in, and you blink. “How?”
Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, seemingly nonplussed. “Well, when he asked me for the code to my office, I figured he wanted to take you in there and fuck you.”
Hot blood rushes to your chest, and you sit up a little. “You talked to Jungkook about fucking me?”
“No.” Yoongi blinks. “This was before anything happened. I haven’t told him anything. It was just clear he liked you, even back then, because I have eyes. So I was trying to do him a favor. He’s a good kid.”
You squint, still trying to catch up. “Why would Jungkook fuck me in your office?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s the only door that locks. Sometimes you get desperate.” You swallow the immediate urge to argue when your brain unhelpfully reminds you that you have in fact fucked Yoongi at the office. Twice.
“But you know, I figured he’d wine you, dine you, all that romantic crap first. I’m sure he’s a very respectable sex on the third date kind of guy.” That all-too-familiar smirk is back when he glances over at you again. “I guess neither of us realized who we were dealing with.”
You open and close your mouth a few times before you can remember how to speak. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly not with your cum still on my stomach.”
Yoongi nods toward the en-suite. “There’s towels in there. Or you can shower if you want.”
Your head spins as you silently slip out of his bed, and you shut the bathroom door firmly behind you, wishing you could leave that entire conversation on the other side of it. Maybe his fancy shower will get hot enough to blast all the thoughts out of your brain, you reason, and it only takes a bit of fumbling with the knobs before you figure it out.
The water pressure is so much better than what you’re used to that you groan a little when you step under the spray. You turn in a semicircle, letting it beat down on your neck and shoulders as you close your eyes, willing the tension to melt out of your body. You really are exhausted, practically asleep on your feet, despite the way your mind is still racing.
You don’t know why you came here tonight. You don’t know what you thought would happen. You don’t know what makes you keep coming back to Yoongi, over and over, like a moth to a flame, like the definition of insanity. You don’t know why he opened up to you tonight, or why you decided to do the same— or what the fuck compelled him to say that Jungkook is in love with you. You don’t know if things are supposed to stay the same after tonight, or if they will be irrevocably different, and you don’t know which you’d even want.
You have no idea what you want, actually. Another drink would be nice.
The sound of the shower door opening startles you, pulling you up from your thought spiral, and your eyes snap open to see Yoongi shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he steps in to crowd you under the water, and you hate the way your heartbeat flutters when he’s close to you.
“What are you—” you try to ask, but you don’t get to finish the sentence before his hand cups your jaw and his mouth finds yours.
His kiss blots everything else from your brain, and in this moment, you’re grateful for it. You lean into him, letting him in deeper when his tongue traces your bottom lip, whimpering softly as his other hand presses to the small of your back to pull you closer.
You don’t know what he wants, either. Why he came in here. But you have a guess.
“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips. “I can’t again. I’m so tired.”
“It’s okay,” he answers softly, and then his mouth drags you back in like a riptide.
You don’t know how long you stay there like that, kissing him under the steam and the spray, but you’re breathless when you finally pull away to look up at him. Water droplets are twined through his long, dark hair, collecting delicately on his eyelashes, trailing down his neck and over the muscles of his chest.
“You can sleep here tonight, if you want,” Yoongi offers, and before you can even process the words, he’s stepping back to push the shower door open behind him, and then he’s gone.
With the glass fogged over completely from the heat of the water, and the white noise of the fan overhead, you have no concept of when he leaves the bathroom, or what else he might be doing. You just know you feel entirely alone.
After scrubbing yourself thoroughly with a washcloth that you lather in Yoongi’s soap, you emerge from the shower, grabbing a towel from the linen cabinet to wrap up in. It’s weird to smell like him, sandalwood and musk, somehow both comforting and alienating.
When you nudge open the door to his room again, it’s empty, and the inset lighting has been turned off entirely, the room bathed only in the glow of the bedside lamp that’s been switched on.
He’s left out one of his t-shirts for you, and you recognize it as one you’ve seen him in often at work. You remember Googling the label once out of curiosity and nearly passing out at your desk when you saw the three hundred dollar price tag. You pull it on over your head, then return to the bathroom to hang your towel up.
As you slip back into the bedroom, you can’t help but wonder where Yoongi’s disappeared off to, but you’re too exhausted to go looking for him.
Though you figure he’ll be in eventually, your heart still sinks a little as you pull back the covers and crawl into his bed. It feels so much bigger when you’re the only one in it. You decide to leave the lamp on, then turn over to press your cheek to the pillow, and the waves of sleep almost immediately pull you under.
You’re still alone when you wake up in the morning, the other side of the bed entirely undisturbed.
Blinking slowly, it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and then the night comes back to you piece by piece. The lamp on the nightstand is still on when you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.
Yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you push open Yoongi’s bedroom door and pad down the hallway, trying to make sense of things. You have to retrace your steps all the way back to the living room before you find him, curled up on his side on the couch with one arm tucked under his head, still sleeping soundly.
He looks smaller like this. More vulnerable, maybe.
You wonder if you should’ve asked him to join you in his bed, and you wonder why he didn’t. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you decide to let him rest.
You move through his apartment aimlessly, like a patron in a museum. Something cracks open inside of you as you allow yourself to take in his place undisturbed, and with it, what could be. The idea that a night spent here could feel normal. The two of you in the clearly well-used kitchen, how you might sit on the counter with a glass of wine while he cooks dinner. Talking about your days, about the past and the future. Sharing a life. Fucking and showering and falling asleep in his bed, tangled up together.
For something so close, it feels impossibly far away in the harsh light of morning. It feels like something meant for a much better person than you.
When you make it all the way back to his room, you peel your borrowed shirt off and drape it across his bed like you found it. You retrieve your clothes from last night off the floor and pull them back on.
Thankfully Yoongi chose to fall asleep on the far side of the couch, so when you re-enter the living room, you’re easily able to grab your purse where you set it down the night before without waking him. You slip your heels on in his entryway, then open the front door and shut it as quietly as you can behind you.
You fish your phone out of your bag and scroll until you find Jimin’s contact, then press it to your ear as the line starts to ring.
~*~
You don’t hear from Yoongi at all on Sunday, and you barely see him at work the next few days. You don’t know why it surprises you. It makes sense. You said that night had to mean nothing, you left in the morning without another word, and it’s not like you’ve made any effort to reach out since.
But nevertheless, hurt feelings sit heavy in the pit of your stomach, stinging like salt in an open wound. You’re angry that Yoongi seems to be acting like nothing even happened. You’re annoyed that you have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Los Angeles. And you’re pissed off that you have so much fucking work to do in preparation for a trip that’s all about him.
You keep your head down and just try to fucking survive. You stay silent in your meetings unless directly asked a question. You type furiously at your desk, forever behind on emails and late on promised deliverables.
The week passes by in a blur, and it doesn’t even occur to you what day it is until you find Jungkook waiting for you at your desk when you return from an afternoon meeting.
“Hi, Jungkook.” You try to say it gently, to not take your frustrations out on someone who didn’t even do anything. While you’ve made polite small talk all week, things certainly haven’t felt normal, and you can’t tell if he senses it too, or if you’re just letting Yoongi’s cryptic words plant imaginary strange vibes in your head.
To his credit, Jungkook seems unfazed. “It’s the last day before your trip!” he says brightly, and your eyes widen as you realize he’s right. “What’s the rest of your day look like?”
You take a seat at your desk and pull up your calendar to check, and he circles around to look with you. “That was thankfully my last meeting,” you respond. “Just getting back to my never-ending to-do list now.”
“Or…” Jungkook prompts, and you glance up to see him leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of your desk chair, his chin propped cutely in his hands. “You could not do that.”
You blink up at him. “And what would I be doing instead?”
“I was thinking, it’s been a while since we’ve had a walking meeting. Plus it’s actually nice out. So you should take a break.”
Glancing back at your to-do list sends a fresh wave of dread through you, and then you snap your laptop shut with a resigned sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
Not only could you use the break, but you want things with Jungkook to feel normal again, even if the weirdness is only in your head. Maybe this is what you need.
Down in the lobby, Jungkook holds the door for you, and when you step outside, you realize he’s right. It’s one of those clear-sky early spring days, warm enough out that it feels like the world is starting over, like everything is coming back to life. You can’t help but feel like you could use a fresh start, too.
Though you expect to be led somewhere with food, Jungkook takes a different route instead, and you follow him a few blocks over to the entrance of a nearby park. You end up side by side on a paved pedestrian path, the length of which is lined with trees that have only just begun to bud.
It’s quiet, save for the distant noise of the city, the rustle of nature, and the rush of the occasional cyclist whizzing past. You walk slowly as you chat about nothing of importance: work, music, his dogs.
Jungkook glances over at you during a moment’s pause, with a look on his face like there’s a question he’s been waiting to ask. “So how are you feeling about your trip?”
You can’t quite manage to keep your expression neutral, your eyes rolling like a reflex. “Whatever. I just want to get it over with.”
“Ah.” Jungkook nods, and you can see he’s biting back some reaction. “For some reason I thought you might be excited.”
“What do you mean?”
He just shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve been… different lately. About Suga. I thought maybe something was going on.” An uneasy feeling starts to wash over you.
“Nothing is going on with me and Yoongi,” you say, far too quickly. Jungkook glances at you, his brows pinched together slightly as if he’s unsure what to believe.
“Okay,” he says simply. You hope that’s the end of it, but then he keeps going. “That’s good. I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.”
Heat rushes into your face, caught somewhere between shame and anger. “Um, what does that mean?”
You grit your teeth when he just shrugs again. “I don’t know. He was such a jerk to you, and then suddenly it’s like you guys are hanging out and getting close and stuff—”
“We are not close,” you interject, and you hate how unsteady your voice sounds when you say it.
“Good,” Jungkook responds. “Because I thought maybe you might be, and it didn’t make any sense to me.”
Overwhelmed by his words, you come to a standstill on the pavement, and he makes it a few steps further before he realizes. As he turns back to face you, the words rush out before you can stop them. “I mean, I don’t see how it’s any of your business either way.”
Jungkook’s brow furrows again. “It’s my business because I care about you. He made you so miserable when you first started, so I don’t see how you could just forget about that and be into him, especially when you could…” He trails off and looks down, unwilling to finish the sentence.
“When I could what?” Another fucking shrug, and you can feel the rage inside you simmering now, threatening to boil over. Yoongi’s question comes back to haunt you— you know Jungkook is in love with you, right?— and the pieces start to slot together in front of you.
“When I could be into you?” you press him, taking an accusatory step closer. “Is that what you want to say?”
His gaze flits up to the trees above you, like he’s willing to look anywhere but your face. “No. I don’t know.”
The birdsong in the air has suddenly started to sound a lot more like screaming, and you have to suppress the urge to do the same. Instead, your voice comes out low and deadly serious. “You and I are friends, Jungkook. Just friends.”
“I know we are,” he says softly.
“Do you?” you snap back, vicious now. “Because it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” he responds automatically, in the same tone, and you scoff.
“Look me in my face and say it.” You take another step toward him, and his eyes meet yours. He’s silent long enough for you to understand the truth, and all at once, you feel like a fucking idiot.
“Let me make this clear to you,” you hiss. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. And I do not have to explain or justify them to anyone, including you, because you are not my fucking boyfriend.”
When you spit the final word, Jungkook flinches like you’ve slapped him, but you can’t stop now. You’re so angry, it feels like it’s eating you alive. “When I want your opinion, as my friend, I’ll ask for it. Understood?”
You’ve never seen him look at you the way he does now, his eyes dark, his face twisted into a near grimace. There’s a long pause, and his voice is stilted when he finally speaks. “Yeah. Sorry I brought it up.”
The two of you walk back to the office in total silence, and Jungkook doesn’t try to talk to you again.
~*~
It’s early enough to still be pitch black outside when Jimin pulls up to the curb of your terminal at Incheon Airport.
“Thanks again for driving.” You yawn around the words as you reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. When Jimin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, you groan at the affection, but he pays it no mind, dotting kisses over your hair that make you squirm.
“Love you, have fun. And be a slut!”
You roll your eyes as you manage to peel him off of you. “Bye, Baby Mochi.”
Slipping on a face mask, you push the door of his car open and climb out of the passenger seat. You swing open the trunk to grab your suitcase, then slam it shut again and step up onto the curb.
Making your way into the terminal, you dig your phone out of your bag to double-check the text from Yoongi, and then you glance up at the sign overhead to confirm you’re right where he said he’d be.
It takes a second for you to realize the person walking in your direction is Min Yoongi. The black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes is certainly not a bad look, but when paired with his black face mask, it makes him almost impossible to identify, or get a good read on. Rolling your suitcase ahead of you, you move toward him, and the two of you meet in the middle.
You wore sneakers today, so he still seems tall.
“Hi,” you say simply, a thousand different emotions swirling in your gut. You do your best to ignore them all.
Yoongi hums a wordless grunt back in response, then turns to face the already bustling security line. You mirror him, and for a moment the two of you just stay like that, like you’re standing firmly in the present and unsure of what might be waiting on the other side.
He gives a tired sigh. “Ready?” You’re surprised to learn he can speak this early in the morning.
“I guess so,” you answer.
Perfectly in sync, you both push your bags forward, stepping carefully toward a weekend that feels impossible to imagine.
chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine
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Valentino.. /Sukuna Ryomen x Female Reader/ .o4
warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, getting ignored by childhood crush (*gasp*)
reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.
plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..
words: 2.004k
fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 (will be updated..)
a/n:: Srry for posting the Christmas Special so late loll I was with family for most my time so I wasn't able to meet my own deadline >< Anwyays, I'm hoping to pump out more chapters since this is going to be my next "big" series
~~
Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy~
. . .
"So, Y/n. When do you plan on giving Mr. Ryomen here his first lesson?"
"L-Lesson?"
Sukuna's eyes widened a little at the news, obviously revealing to the teacher that you hadn't told Sukuna about your future tutoring sessions together. With a heavy sigh, full of annoyance and a little bitterness, Toji Fushiguro stood from his swivel chair and made his way around his desk to gather his things for the day.
"As you should be aware, Y/n has been kind enough to tutor you for the lessons and assignments you had missed the first semester," Toji said, signing out of his laptop and putting it into his bag along with a few folders of homework he was going to grade.
"Tutor.." Sukuna echoed, his eyebrow twitching slightly upwards at the thought. "But I made up for the missing assignments in homeschooling while I was moving here.."
"They were rather poor grades, Mr. Ryomen," Toji responded, his tone cool as he stood and grabbed his, now empty, coffee mug. "I expect a detailed schedule for your sessions and mapped out lesson plans for after classes. You may use my classroom or your dorms to study in, but have those soon or else it'll come out of your grades."
With a check of his watch, Toji made his way out the door and closed it. The click being the single sound that echoed throughout the classroom, breaths tight and quiet.
Sukuna's voice finally broke the silence as he turned to you with a dark glare. "..Tutor?"
"Yes," You answered quickly, your eyes glued to where Toji was before. Swallowing a thick glob of saliva before looking up at Sukuna, a nervous smile on your face. "Sorry I didn't mention it."
"It's pretty fucking late to say sorry!"
Not even a joke could fix your mood, could it?
Sighing, you looked towards the door and returned your gaze to a fuming Ryomen. His eyes were red but shining, jaw clenched but fierce. You couldn't help but find it cute as you giggled, making him more pissed off than before.
"What's got you giggling, huh?!" He barked suddenly, making you hold a hand to your lips as you struggled to hold back the laughs. "I gotta spend time with you now cause of my grades! Fuck.. my day is blessed with good fortune my ass.."
Placing your bag on the desk in front of you, you opened it and shuffled around before finding a notebook, pencil and an eraser.
"Write down the days you are free after classes and the times." You said, passing him the notebook and utensils.
"No."
"Sigh.. Why not?"
"I'm not going to show up, that's why."
You looked up at the stubborn man you used to call a friend and poked his chest, making him practically steam like a train. "Yes you are, your grades will suffer otherwise. C'mon, it's just tutoring."
Sukuna's nose crinkled up at the mere thought of being in the same room. Kudos to him, your happy he hasn't stormed out of the room yet. "Please?"
"Don't." His voice stern before he went mute for another moment. His eyes flickered from the notebook to your face, and back again as he considered thinking about it. "...How many sessions do I need..?"
. . .
That was obviously a poor choice of words.
You were knocking on his door within hours the next day. A gleeful and smug little smirk on your face after classes while he was trying to recover from them. Although you didn't want it to be the only reason, you were secretly hoping to at least bond a little with Sukuna. Since he wasn't the same person he was a decade ago, you wanted to get to know the new him.
It had been years since you both talked to each other, even then after he slammed the door in your face you still had hope. If you weren't going to date, being friends was good enough, that's all you really wanted.
Sure, the first few tries were a little hellish but your hope wasn't faltering. Getting to know him now as an adult was your top mission, aside from helping him get better grades in his classes and pass his midterms of course.
Once he actually opened the door, his hair was damp and you assumed he was straight out of the shower. He was wearing rather loose clothing and a towel around his neck, playing some random movie in his living room from the background noise of his dorm room.
Why did he agree to this torture again?
"How are you alive and walking? Today was hell.." Sukuna muttered, blinking weakly and groaning. After he had opened the door, his eyes got sore the moment he saw your smile. Too bright..
"If I'm honest, I don't know either." You answered, lifting a small bag filled to the brim with snacks to get Sukuna into the mood for studying. "I bought some of your childhood favorites! We can snack on them while we study."
With a chuckle, Sukuna was leaning against his doorway frame, a raised eyebrow and barely lifted his heavy eyelid. "Really? What were they again?"
As your silence only grew as you thought, Sukuna began to laugh. Not a maniac giggle like he used to, but a more simple and relaxed one. Even his sleepy voice added a more adult tone to it, a rapid fire of thoughts invaded your mind for a second. "Poor Y/n. Can't even fathom my favorite candy."
"Well, then tell me!"
He rolled his eyes. "Black licorice."
"....Bullshit."
Watching the sullen look took over your features, your smile disappearing, that was probably the only funny thing Sukuna's seen today. Minus that random video of a dude falling down the stairs that Yuji-kun sent him last night, but he wasn't going to admit that openly.
"Are you going to just stand here?" Sukuna asked, sighing and looking down at you. "You're starting to look desperate."
You flinched at this, whining about how you weren't desperate and so on and so forth. Sukuna's mind wasn't particularly ready for the constant studying for some tests, if you take his midterms into account of course.
"Could you please just come inside and stop whining," Sukuna groaned, removing himself from the doorway and heading towards the small kitchen that was placed next to his living area. "I'm going to take an Aspirin from all your bickering."
"Oi, stop complaining already!"
You huffed and took a seat on his couch (after closing his door of course. You didn't like being disrespectful even though this particular person didn't make you smile much.) "A-Anyways, I decided that working on other subjects would be good to do first before starting the really hard stuff."
"That's fine by me," Sukuna muttered out, gulping down the medicine and getting a sip of water to get it down. "What's your specialty?"
"Mostly Economics," You responded as Sukuna sat down at the coffee table in front of you. "But recently, I've been trying to get better at things that bugged me in my last few years of high school."
He grabbed the towel still hanging around his neck and continued to dry his hair while you put out the lesson plans for other classes you both shared, like your math and such. Thought you both weren't on the same level, Sukuna being a few classes ahead in some, you thought it'd be good practice for your future years.
Though, your mind was always wandering during the study session. You couldn't help but think Sukuna's damp hair was cute, or that his sleepy dimenor was precious. Hell, even his clothes held some adorable qualities to them. Hanging loosely onto his frame while he was writing down notes or reading something.
What was wrong with you? You were going to give up just yesterday, but here you were drooling and ogling over a crush.
"Hey, need help with that?" Sukuna's quiet question makes you jump in your seat. "You aren't paying attention at all, are you? And to think you were the one that volunteered for something like this. Slacker."
"I am not a slacker!" You whined, flipping through a few pages of your notebook. "At least I have some good grades in my classes."
A dark mood was waved over you, making a shiver go up your spine and a nervous smile lift your lips.
"If you're trying to be smart with me, stop it," Sukuna said, tapping his pen on the table and glaring at you. "I'm pretty ahead in all of my classes, it's just my absence in them the first semester is what's kept me behind in one of them."
With a grunt, Sukuna's mind was back on pace with his studying, switching from subject to subject. You watched with awe, a little nervous all the while though. It was so embarrassing that he was breezing by while you struggled once in a while with a question or a phrase.
Within an hour, Sukuna was ready to make some food and get a few shows in before sleeping. "Well, that's all for today anyways."
"Mhm," He mumbled, standing from his area beside the coffee table and heading towards the bathroom to put up his towel from earlier. "You can leave once you get your things.."
That last part made you wince, though it was understandable. It wasn't even a day ago that Sukuna said to keep your distance, and you felt lucky enough to be able to tutor him. Your hope would never falter to trying to at least be friends with him, or be at peace.
Might as well ask now since I have the chance..
"Sukuna?" You asked, looking around the corner just as Sukuna was leaving the bathroom. "I wanted to ask you something before I leave."
"Oh yeah? What's up? Is it about the next studying session?" Sukuna headed to the kitchen to grab some ramen from a cupboard, going to his stove and turning it on to boil some water. "If you can't make it, that's cool. I'll just study alone."
"No, it's not that. I wanted to ask if we could try being friends."
There was silence, and silence was never really a good thing in your area of expertise. You swallowed as Sukuna turned his gaze towards you after putting a pot of water on the burner, eyes half lidded as if he was bored.
"You're just as pushy as before," Sukuna commented, sighing and coming to sit on the couch next to you. "Why do you want to be so friendly with me? Feeling guilty?"
He could practically feel the tension in the room, it was suffocating.
"Yes.." You mustered, feeling your face burn with embarrassment. Of course you felt terrible for not being able to talk to him, or trying to reach out to him. "I want to make up for it, so please, let's at least try being friends."
Another pause, another hard pill to swallow.
"...I'm going to visit Yuji-kun tomorrow," Sukuna started, lifting a hand to slick his hair back as his eyes glided to lock with yours for a moment.
"Come with me then and we'll talk about it."
That last sentence made you smile, and the urge to hug Sukuna and thank him was overpowering. "Th-Thank you.."
"Whatever, just be at the front of the campus after Toji's class to meet me. It's going to take a while to the Hokkaido prefecture."
Your eyes sparkled at this. When did Yuji get there?
"Wipe that look off your face," Sukuna grunted, scrunching his nose at you. "It took a lot of money to get him into a good school, just like it was hard to get me here."
You nodded, working quickly to wipe the smile off your face. It had been too long since you saw Yuji.
"Well, get going. We'll need to get stuff done tomorrow before we can see my little brother."
a/n: kjskjsksjs it feels so nice to finally finish another chapter!! i hope this one was just as cute so i hope it was worth the wait. honestly, i been wanting to get the chapters a little longer but have been a little lazy with trying to write more. plus, i did say to myself that i wasn't going to make them over 3k words per chapter like Lost Lamb.
Chapter Song Theme:
— lana del rey - summertime sadness (official music video)
taglist: @mageyboo, @mzladyd, @mysticwonderlandangel, @sukunaspersonalfleshlight, @kawaiipenguin20, @k-indie, @okkotsufav, @cafeinthemoon93, @pulchritxde, @bontenbunny, @deepinballs, @kleeboomed, @fallenfeversstuff, @fiierytearzx, @wo-ming-bai, @ririkaxbz, @instantgalaxysheep, @watyousayin, @z3r0art, @sukunaobsessed, @lik0, @sukunasfirstlove, @princesstiti14, @nemoyr, @ladywolf44005, @cat-mak20, @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn, @hxlalokidottir, @instantgalaxysheep, @domainofmarie, @the-moongoddess, @dark-n-dirty-duchess, @agentdedf1sh, @sukunastoy, @lyn-soso, @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9
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#sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk smut#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu#anime#ryomen sukuna#sukuna jjk#sukuna ryomen#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk fanart#jjk art#jjk x y/n#jjk imagines#jjk manga#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna fanfic#sukuna headcanons#Valentino Fanfiction
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yoinking this from my twitter and polishing it a little but anyways have some uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
TWST BOYS + WALKING IN ON YOU SINGING AND DANCING TO A SONG FROM OUR WORLD
- Ace tries to pretend to be above dancing and singing in the kitchen but he doesn't actually put up much of a fight if you grab him to dance together.
- Deuce is embarrassed but... it's a LITTLE cute, and he doesn't really. dance. but like.... I mean....... if you ASK...
- Cater is all-in on this. No clue what song this is, but he’s DEFINITELY pulling out his phone and filming the both of you dancing on Magicam.
- Trey has probably seen his fair share of impromptu singing and dancing from his siblings, but that doesn’t make this little show any less cute! You won’t mind if he takes a little photo, right?
- Is there a rule against this? Riddle is silently going through all 800+ of the Queen’s laws to make sure it’s not Off with your head! He’d hate to interrupt you... but maybe the rules can be bent this one time if necessary.
- Oh, Jack is frozen stiff as he watches you. It’s not like he has a soft spot for you or anything! It’s just... really charming! And if his tail starts wagging when you drag him over to dance with you, that doesn’t mean anything, he swears!
- Aww! This kinda reminds Ruggie of some of the kids back home. You’re just as cute, and he’d love to hear more of these songs you’ve got. Buuut, he‘s not above teasing you for being caught in the act. Maybe he’ll join you sometime, if you give him some snacks in return, of course.
- Leona sees you and immediately goes “Fucking herbivores...” But you’re not letting him go that easily! Grab him under the arms and drag him over to dance with you! “HEY HEY I DON'T DANCE —!” He might make himself dead weight but it’s worth every ridiculous second.
- Floyd also joins in instantly. He looooves dancing, and Shrimpy looks SOOOO cute, how could he not join you?!
- Jade is content to watch you with that unsettling, way-too-toothy grin of his. He might have snapped a few photos. Perhaps got a short video. He’ll never tell. It’s all for his eyes, and his alone.
- The moment Azul catches you, it’s a toss-up. If you’re a decent singer/dancer, he’s probably already cooking up some sort of scheme for special dinner shows at the Mostro Lounge. If you’re... not great... he just watches, cringing sometimes but otherwise thoroughly amused. No, he won’t join you, he’s perfectly happy just watching, thank you very much.
- If you’re taking up space in the kitchen, expect Jamil to shoo you out so he can start prepping food. He’s probably a little annoyed, but he does enjoy dancing. Sooo... he might just join in if you’re not being too much of a bother. Don’t comment on his blush or grin, no matter how cute he looks!
- Kalim absolutely positively cannot resist joining you! You’re having so much fun! He LOVES fun! Do you want to dance more together?! YOU SHOULD HAVE A DANCE PARTY —
- Epel has been to his fair share of informal dances in his hometown, but nothing with people his age. Vil’s compulsory dance lessons don’t count, either. He’s just rooted in place, watching your unfamiliar dancing and singing, trying to commit everything to memory. Pull him in, tell him to just do what feels right. He’ll figure it out.
- Rook is HERE FOR THIS. YOU LOOK PERFECT. FULL MARKS. “Quelle beauté !” How could he resist your undeniable charms?! Your ZEST? YOUR PASSION?!
- Depending on how good you are at singing and/or dancing, Vil is either pleasantly surprised by the impromptu show... or horribly embarrassed to be in the same room as you. You will be getting further lessons either way, like it or not. He sees some potential in you.
- Oh god. Oh fuck. Idia is not prepared for this. Full deer-in-headlights panic mode. This is, like, the exact kinda thing he sees in all his shows and comics and dating sims. But that’s fictional. This is real. Maybe if he doesn’t make eye contact you won’t notice him, and he can pretend this is all fake? How the hell is he supposed to react to this?!
- Ortho is a sweet and wonderful baby and he is zooming in to dance with you the second he sees you because he LOVES it and he’s already plotting ways to get Idia in on the next dance sesh.
- Sebek is torn. He can’t stop staring. Don’t you have anything better to do?! You’re distracting him from his VERY important duties as Malleus’ retainer! Well... no, he’s not working right now. And you’ve done all your classwork... and dancing... is good exercise... he supposes... Fine, human. He’ll indulge you. Just this once!
- Silver is pleasantly surprised. He doesn’t have a very strong reaction either way, although his cheeks might be a little pink, and he’ll let you pull him around in a dance if you want, but if he falls asleep on you... well! You should have expected that!
- Ohhh, Lilia loves this! Humans are so charming, aren’t they? He loves this kind of spontaneity! He’ll dance with you, maybe add a few of his disconcerting metal screams. Be ready to tell him everything about that song when you’re done!
- Malleus is utterly charmed by your little performance. His Child of Man is so cute... it makes his heart race. He’d like to keep you like this, suspended in this moment in time so he can watch you skip and hum and dance over and over again. One day, maybe. For now, he’ll covet this memory like any other treasure in his hoard.
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twst hcs#fluff#my writing#seraph speaks#im obsessed w this scenario can u tell#i'm also more familiar with some characters than others. can u tell.
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Chasing You Chapter 5 {Complete}
Summary: Jake retires from the military honorably. He steps into a new roll, ready to settle down in his hometown of Texas. He is placed on your shift. Your current relationship is stable until the dust settles, revealing cracks in the foundation.
Warnings: Cursing, violence, police experiences based on truth, accurate on most accounts of law enforcement, it might get gory at times. Be aware of blood, drugs, and all things law enforcement. Smut eventually. A/N may have my true experience attached if you're interested. All real names redacted.
Chapter 1. Next Chapter. Masterlist
Jake unlocked his front door to his not so humble ranch home. Outside was a white stone with walnut accent wood. He held the door open for you. The inside had a gorgeous similar color scheme.
"The military pays well." He watched as your eyes glimmered around his home. The fireplace was lit in the middle of the living room. Welcoming you in with the cozy warmth.
"I can tell..." You trailed looking around at the bull skull at the back wall made of floor-length windows and glass french doors. You stepped through the house. Your nerves were pressing, not wanting to get a speck of dirt anywhere. This home is so foreign and yet comforting. Butterflies colliding in your stomach as you look out the back windows seeing the sun just over tree line following its trail slowly to the top of the sky. It was a beautiful sunrise, almost like art on his entire wall.
"Your bedroom is this way." He started up the staircase. You followed him up to the hallway. He flicked a switch, lighting a chandelier above the vaulted ceiling. "If you need a shower, your bathroom is through that door. It has a jetted tub, too. Towels are in the left cabinet, I figure you might need to relax after last night." He leaned against the doorway with his hands in his pocket. "My room is across the hall if you need me. Do you need anything now?" You sat your bag next to the bed.
You turned back to Seresin, still in awe at the stunning home. "Um... no, I think I have it from here."
He nodded with the sweetest smile. "Hollar if you need me."
He stood up, turning to the walk away. "Hey... Jake." You called back pausing, looking up as he turned back to you. "Thank you." You returned his smile.
"Of course, it's what friends are for. You can stay as long as you'd like." He walked away, leaving you to get ready for bed.
You walked around the room. You grabbed your bag and pulled out your pajamas. You started the water, grabbing all the prep for a relaxing bath. Your clothes fell to the floor. The warm water engulfed every nerve, caressing you in warmth and safety. Your limbs released all tension as the jets pulsed into your muscles.
"We are not talking about this right now." Seresin spoke through gritted teeth. "No, you're not coming over here. I just got off work." He tried to keep his voice down, knowing you were just across the hall. You didn't need any more stress or worry surrounding you.
"Jake, son, please. I don't have anywhere to go." Jake scoffed. "Why don't you go back to that skanks house? I dont think you can do any more damage to the family, so it won't make anything worse." He yelled through the phone, finally losing it with his father. His mask of perfection slipped into anger as he hung up the phone and held his head in his hands.
He breathed in and laid on his bed. He took off his shirt, laying it on the chair. He slipped into a pair of gray sweatpants and laid on his bed. He peered out the hallway. He could see your room still open. The only saving grace for your ears was a door and a room of running water.
The entire room enveloped in humidity laced with the sweet scent of your body wash. You got out of the bath and dried off with the plush towel. You wrapped your hair in a smaller towel and got dressed in your sleepwear. You looked in the mirror with a sense of belonging. The way the wall colors played off your skin, the window shining light against your outfit, created a perfect hue dancing back in the reflection it felt right.
You opened the door, walking to the bed. You looked out into the hall seeing Jake's door open. You saw his back cascading over the bed. The light contrasted the beds white color from his tanned skin. His arms were folded over the pillow, showing off all the workouts he'd done. You closed the door to give yourself some privacy. You laid in the bed and dozed to sleep quickly. Your mind was too exhausted to give you torturous thoughts.
Your eyes lifted. Aromas of bacon stirred around the room. You looked around, remembering where you were. The sun was no longer at your window. It had passed along in the sky.
You got up going downstairs. You followed the scent into the kitchen, once again, seeing his bare back. He stood in front of the stove. "Good morning..." You spoke over the music that was trailing to the next song. "Good morning." He called back. Trumpets started vibrating around you. Michael Bublé's voice mixed with Seresins.
"Sway?" You stepped closer. The wooden spatula tapped against the stainless steel pan.
Seresin chuckled, laying the spatula down in the drip pan. He turned his body towards you, still checking the bubbling mixture on the stove. His brawny chest was wide and buff. His shoulders seemed even bigger from the front. You quickly glanced back up to his eyes. Not wanting him to see your eyes watching his movement.
He looked towards you. He stepped closer to you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around. Your eyes lifted in a grin. "Yeah, sway." He turned around back to the stove. "I made your favorite biscuits and gravy. It's my mom's recipe." He grabbed two plates. Setting them on the counter.
"Seresin," you warned in your tone. "I told you I'm not going to sleep with you. No matter how ripped you are or how much you cook for me. I'm in a..."
"Relationship. I know. I'm not trying to sleep with you. This is payback for the dinner you paid for."
"Thank you, sorry. It's just that I don't meet many men like Kennedy who dont just do things without a motive." You grabbed the plate he made and sat down at the table next to the window. The sun glosses under the treeline, painting a pink sunset in the opposite windows from this mornings orange color.
"It's okay, just have a little faith. I'm a better man than that." Seresin sat at the table in front of you. He took a bite. "It will never be as good as mama's. You know?" The ease being around him was so refreshing.
"Yeah, this is really good, but I get it. My mom makes the best chicken pot pie. I've tried, but it doesn't come close. We are having it in a few weeks at our next dinner. Do you want to come? It wouldn't be an issue. Mama said you were invited after Nessie stopped by...." Your voice dropped slightly. "James doesn't ever go." Just mentioning his name made your heart drop. You looked at the gorgeous man in front of you. His body left nothing to the imagination from the waist up. Disgust crossed your mind at no one but yourself. You were sitting eating breakfast with a half-naked man. Inviting him to eat with your family and their significant others. You, a taken woman.
"If you want me to go, then I'll be there, but that's up to you."
You recovered over the disgust, masking over it quickly. "Yeah, I would like you to go. It's nothing Kennedy has been. It's no issue." But you've never sat ogling over Kennedy's naked body. Appreciating a man for his body was one thing, but having breakfast in their home in front of them thinking of how their body would feel pressed to yours is another. You did feel a smidge of guilt but tried to convince yourself there was nothing wrong with this picture.
"Then I'll go. Just let me know when." Jake smiled then glanced over at his buzzing phone. He groaned seeing the caller ID.
"Do you need to take that?" You kept your eyes from his business chewing your food instead.
"Nope." He popped the P. Silencing the phone.
"Is everything okay?" You chewed slowly.
"No, but it will be in a few years and after some awkward holidays." Seresin put his phone back down as it vibrated again.
You looked up quizzically. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really my business to tell. It's just some mess my dad created. He wants me to fix it and I'm not going to." He chewed another bite.
"Must be some mess..." you trailed. "This is really good Seresin. It's almost as good as my mama's. You didn't tell me you could cook."
"Well now you know. I might bring you a dinner one night." Seresin sat his fork down finishing his food.
You grabbed his plate and walked to the sink. You washed them off and bent over to the dishwasher putting them into the empty slots.
Jake would never admit his eyes lingered on your body. Just looking at a taken woman wouldn't hurt. Seresin's eyes glanced calmly at his phone when you started turning back, not being caught looking at you. "Did you sleep good with no screaming?"
"Yes. That bed feels like a cloud. I could sleep there forever." He stood up, leading you to the back door. You just followed blindly in conversation.
#top gun maverick#hangman x reader#top gun fanfiction#hangman imagine#hangman x you#jake hangman imagine#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin fluff#hangman seresin x reader#hangman top gun#hangman fluff#hangman smut#jake seresin angst#jake hangman x reader#jake hangman smut#jake hangman fic#jake hangman x y/n#jake hangman x you#hangman x y/n#hangman fanfiction#hangman x oc#jake seresin smut#jake seresin series#jake seresin au#jake seresin fanfiction
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I’m Yowane Haku and here’s my 10 step guide on making a quality drink at an affordable price
1. Settle on a base.
You need to find your preferred drink base. Whether it’s whiskey, vodka, gin or whatever else the rest this guide will still apply.
2. Go to Wikipedia and search for list of drinks made with (base)
Wikipedia is a great source of information for finding drinks. I do recommend looking elsewhere for recipes though.
3. Do your research
Find out where they sell the highest quality product of your base. This will most likely be at a specialty store or perhaps at the home of a private collector who is willing to sell. Make sure to do your research on the sellers as well you don’t want any trouble when getting your alcohol.
4. Buy all ingredients expect for the alcohol
Buy everything (minus the base) you need for your drink. I recommend looking for any deals or coupons that might be available to lower the cost further.
5. Lock all potential points of entry
Lock and secure any entry points that might be present where you’re residing. But keep the front door unlocked until after you have returned with the alcohol.
6. Prepare to obtain your alcohol
Ask yourself some important questions. Will there be witnesses? When I break in will I be in immediate danger? How can I protect my identity? If it’s your first time committing robbery I recommend not doing it in your hometown as things could get awkward if you mess up.
7. Prepare your glass and ingredients ahead of time
Good time save. After you commit a crime your adrenaline starts flowing this is good for a getaway but not for preparing drinks. So prep your drink as much as possible before you leave.
8. Do the job
9. Lock your front door and enjoy your cheap but delicious drink!!!!
After all your hard work you deserve the best drink as a reward! Enjoy!
10. Await police arrival or make your getaway
Very important to not you should never drink and drive either find a driver (could be pricey) or have a different way of escape that doesn’t involve a DUI
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Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 22: A Path Chosen
See how sad Perrin is after being exposed to spoilers? In this reread, I spoil everything for the entire series, so if you don't wanna be sad like him you should probably go somewhere else. Frankly I'm sad because I'm so lazy I never want to do these, but what if the first time I don't is the first time some would-be blind reader comes waltzing in?
This chapter has the barren tree at night icon, a reflection of the fact that this particular subplot is not out of the woods yet. It is daytime though, so that's something!
In a small copse of trees, beneath a pile of cedar branches roughly cut in the dark, Perrin slept long after sunrise. It was the cedar needles, pricking him through his still-damp clothes, that finally pricked through his exhaustion as well.
I again have to mention that after night swimming through a river at the tail end of a long winter, Perrin should have hypothermia. As counterintuitive as it sounds, once your clothes get wet it is literally better to be naked if you're in the cold and don't have a source of heat. I guess being a Vietnam War vet doesn't prep you for all kinds of overland travel.
If wishes were wings, sheep would fly. That was what Mistress Luhhan always said.
It's always fun when fantasy stories come up with alternate aphorisms, so I'll share this one.
Abruptly he stepped into a little clearing under the hemlock—and stopped. Behind a small fire, Egwene crouched, her face grim, with a thick branch held like a club and her back against Bela’s flank.
Poor Egwene. She's had such a terrible night she's too delirious to realize that if she were about to be found by the Trollocs, she should already be running away. On the plus side, she's got herself something kind of like a weapon, which is more effort for her defense than Lan bothered with. I guess she and Nynaeve returned the daggers when they were in the city and didn't have a chance to get them back? Or maybe she lost hers.
Tossing her club down, she ran to throw her arms around him. “I thought you had drowned. You’re still wet. Here, sit by the fire and warm yourself. You lost your horse, didn’t you?”
I'm not an Egwene stan, but I'm far from a hater too, so I'd like to note that she's clearly genuinely concerned for Perrin's well-being and quickly trying to help him. She isn't always the best friend in the world (though most people in this setting aren't even trying to compete, probably because they know they don't stand a chance against Mat), but she's got her heart in the right place.
Her eyebrows rose, but he was used to surprise whenever he claimed an idea. Even when his ideas were as good as theirs, they always remembered how deliberate he was in thinking of them.
Considering your idea is, "Let's go wandering into the unfamiliar wilderness and not even put in the smallest amount of effort into reuniting with the group," I'm going to say outright that this is not one of the times when your idea is as good as someone else's. Thank goodness you don't make this a habit or anything.
To his surprise, she nodded. “There must be villages. We can ask directions.”
This sentence, where Egwene tosses away all of her intelligence and better understanding of the outside world than Perrin (who admits in his internal narration that he never gave a crap about the map the other boys loved and that Egwene's dad had a better understanding of Andor's geography than said map) to go along with an utterly stupid plan whose logical outcome is starving to death in the wilderness, foreshadows both that Perrin is ta'veren and the horrifying effect he will have upon their hometown once he goes back to it.
“I’ll walk myself dry,” he said firmly, and began kicking dirt over the fire. If he was the leader, it was time to start leading. The wind from the river was picking up.
In Perrin's defense, it's clear from an extratextual perspective that his irrational decision making is based entirely in the fact that his brain is shutting down from the hypothermia he is actively succumbing to.
Short chapter today; I kinda thought about doing the next one but sadly I wasn't kidding about being lazy. See y'all next time for Perrin's further descent into madness!
#let's read#wheel of time#wot#robert jordan#wheel of time spoilers#wot spoilers#perrin aybara#egwene al'vere
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This is an EMORI AU mini-fic made for its creator, @shrimperini. Before anyone complains about the characterization, shrimp gave me the okay for this mini-fic's plot.
I'm NOT a fan of Mari and Hero's depiction in this AU, to be honest. So this was a little difficult to keep in-character. I'm sorry if this pisses off people.
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Late at night, Mari took deep breaths as she continued washing her face, removing every bit of makeup that once adorned it. Same with her hands. She was also in the college's campus apparel.
She then stared at herself in her dorm room's bathroom mirror. She stared at her natural appearance for the first time in a long while....
All while her mind drifted off to a a couple weeks ago.
------------------------------
-A couple weeks ago-
Mari was on break, getting ready for the next semester when she was last visiting her hometown of Faraway. Aubrey had asked her to come with her to the park.
At the time, the older teenager thought nothing of it. She assumed that the pinkette just wanted a private conversation with the person who she saw as a big sister.
She also didn't question Sunny and Aubrey's whispering, figuring that it was a private thing that she didn't need to know about.
Eventually, the two girls entered the park, before sitting on one of the benches. "So, how's college?" Aubrey asked. "How's being away from home?"
Mari sighed, "It's not too bad. There are some things that I wish I didn't have to deal with." "But it's not that bad." She admitted, though noticed that Aubrey didn't seem to satisfied with her answer.
"I'm sorry that I'm not visiting as often as I promised." The older of the two sighed. "But believe me, I'm busy with college work." The pinkette raised an eyebrow, "Too busy to spend time with your brother?"
Mari went silent for a few moments, before asking in confusion, "What does this have to do with Sunny?"
"I think it's obvious, right?" The pinkette asked, before sighing. "Mari, he misses you. He has been since you took college prep classes." The young woman sighed in return, "It was for the best. For BOTH of us."
Aubrey raised an eyebrow, "Both of you? Or JUST you?" Mari blinked in confusion, obviously surprised by the pinkette's question. Aubrey sighed again, "I think it's time for you to experience the outside world."
"Are you saying that I don't pay attention to others?" The older of the two questioned. "That I don't care about Sunny?" The pinkette gave a firm expression, before taking a deep breath, "Talk to your brother."
"You'll get your answer then." She added. "What you believe yourself to be might not be the truth."
Aubrey then got up and left, leaving a confused Mari in her wake.
....
....
The young woman sat there for a while, digesting the pinkette's words.
Mari was certain that she heard wrong. Her going to prep school was for the best for both her and Sunny.
Right? That's what her parents always told them. Told HER. She was a prodigy after all. Of course she had to listen.
Was that really the truth though? Aubrey didn't believe so. And now, the pinkette's words were making Mari second-guess herself.
....
....
Mari sighed, "Fuck it.", standing and heading home. She might as well ask Sunny himself to see what he thought.
Upon entering the building, the young woman called out, "Sunny? Can you come down please?" "I need to talk to you about something." She added.
Eventually, the boy came down with his usual reserved expression. The older of the two guided him to the dining room, sitting at the table.
After Sunny joined his sister, the older teenager explained, "Aubrey said that you wanted to tell me something." "Something about how you view me?" She asked.
The boy nodded, before sighing, "Do you still care about me?" "Of course, I do....! You're my little brother." Mari explained. "What is this about?"
Sunny sighed, "How is it not obvious?"
Mari raised an eyebrow in confusion, before Sunny added, "I get that I reserve my thoughts and emotions.... But it should be obvious after four years or so."
"Sunny, please tell me what's going on. If I don't know what's bothering you, I can't help." The older sibling pleaded.
A few moments passed, before the boy sighed, "What's bothering me....is the fact that I feel inferior to you." "That you really only care about your own interests and no one else." He explained.
There was a faint bitterness in his voice.
"That's not true....! I still care about you all....!" Mari expressed strongly. Sunny gave a stare, "You hardly visit. Not even a small afternoon."
The young woman sighed, "I know that I....haven't been visiting as often as I promised." "I'm sorry, but....I've been busy-...." Mari cut herself off when she noticed her brother's expression.
A rare sight of true anger from him....
"That....is the SAME excuse you gave me during our "talk" during our recital practice." The boy explained. "You apologized, but said that the recital was TOO important for you...."
The anger in the younger sibling only grew when Mari responded in shock, "It.... It WAS! It was very important!" "More important than spending time with your brother?" Sunny asked.
This time, the young woman didn't have a response. Instead, silence fell over her.
"That was the whole POINT of doing the recital with you...." Sunny said. "To spend more time with you after going to prep school."
The older sibling had no response, only listening in shock. "I get that I struggle with being open with my emotions...." The boy sighed. "But I'm amazed that you haven't noticed until now."
"I was close to breaking that damn violin. Because I couldn't deal with your perfectionist ideals." Sunny admitted. "And you are still too blind to notice that your perfectionist mindset is your fatal flaw."
....
....
She didn't know how to describe it, but Mari felt something shatter in her.
A couple minutes of silence settled, before Sunny noticeably relaxed. The boy took a few deep breaths, keeping his gaze away from his sister.
"You know as well as I do....that it's UNFAIR." He whispered. "It's not fair to ANY family member." The boy then got out of his seat, heading towards the door.
"Sunny, please wai-!" Mari started, getting up to grab his hand, only for the boy to shove her own hand away. Sunny gave a firm glare, "Do NOT do that."
Sunny continued taking deep breaths, saying, "Right now....I do NOT want to be near you for a while." "Clearly you don't take me seriously. Just like our parents." He explained.
He then lowered his head as Mari fell silent again, before the boy said to her, "I guess I can understand why Kel is so pissed at Henry. He and you are too similar."
With that, Sunny left the house, leaving a stunned Mari behind.
The young woman just looked at herself, before sitting at the dinner table again, processing what her brother just said.
------------------------------
-Present day-
Mari had, essentially, been staring a hole into her own head for the past few minutes, before slamming her fists into her dorm's bathroom counter.
"God damn it, Mari!" She shouted, not caring if she woke someone up in the middle of the night. "How the fuck could you have been so blind!?"
"Sunny needed you! And you choose to pursue your own interests instead of focusing on your family!" The young woman berated herself, before punching the mirror.
Mari backed up from the mirror, before collapsing to the floor, sitting as she began crying with three thoughts going through her mind.
"Why did I not noticed this sooner?"
"How could I have been so blind to this situation for so long?"
"What can I do to make things right?"
------------------------------
-The next morning-
"What are you doing?" Hero asked, noticing Mari packing her belongings. The young woman didn't look at him as she simply answered, "Going home."
The young man raised an eyebrow, "Why? There's no-...." "No what, Hero?" Mari asked with a firm glance. "There's a community college. This place also has online learning."
"I will be fine." She explained. Hero's expression soured, before asking, "What's gotten into you?"
"You KNOW how awkward things are at home. It's better for us to be here." The young man said, only to go silent when he saw a furious look in Mari's eyes.
"God, do you even HEAR YOURSELF right now, Henry!?" The young woman snapped. "How arrogant and self-centered are you!?"
Hero backed up as Mari snarled, "I pursued my own interests instead of spending time with my brother. My own brother who needed me! I fucked up as his sister!"
"You wonder why Sunny's tense around me...." The young woman growled. "Hell, Kel being pissed at you makes so much sense now!"
A few moments of silence, followed by Mari going back to packing. "I'm going home. And no one, not even you, will stop me." She explained.
....
....
A few minutes passed by. Mari eventually finished packing, before heading outside to get on the bus, only to find Hero waiting there with his car.
The two looked at each other for a couple minutes, before Hero helped the young woman put her things in his car. Silently, the two got into the car, before Mari asked, "Why?"
"Why are you helping me?" The young woman added, receiving a small sigh as Hero rested his head against the wheel. "Because I still wanna be with you." He explained.
The young man lowered his head, gazing at the dashboard, "If you really think you're going to be happier at home, then....I'm not gonna stop you."
"I just want to be with you." He added.
Mari gave a small nod, before sighing, "Let's go home then...."
And just like that, they left the campus and headed towards the highway.
....
....
It would be a few hours before the two reached Faraway, given the amount of traffic. By then, it was early afternoon.
Hero pulled into Mari's family's driveway, before the young woman said, "Wait here. God knows Sunny's probably still rightfully pissed...."
She then got out and went up to the front door, knocking on it before waiting.
After a couple minutes, Mari was greeted by her brother, who gave a shocked expression.
Obviously, seeing his sister's natural appearance for the first time in years surprised him.
"Why are you here?" The boy asked, his expression relaxing to its blank state.
The older of the two siblings gave a sad expression, "I want to try and fix things...." "Nothing I say....will make up for not being there for you." She explained.
Mari then took a deep breath, "But....I would like to at least try and make things better between us." "I thought the best thing I could was....actually doing what I should've done." She whispered.
Sunny gave a blank stare, before taking a breath and giving a small nod, "Okay...." "If you're willing, of course." Mari quickly added, before going quiet as a couple tears ran down from her brother's face.
Just as quickly, Sunny brushed the tears away, before asking, "You got things to unpack?" Mari nodded, "I'll take of it. Don't worry."
With that, she went back to Hero's car, getting her things, before telling the young man, "You should probably talk to Kel too. Even IF it'll end poorly. Alright?"
With that, the young woman entered the building, before putting her things by the couch for now. She sighed as she sat down, before noticing a weight next to her.
Sunny had sat down and leaned against her.
Mari gave a small smile, before gently holding her brother's hand.
It might take time, but she was certain that she and Sunny would be able to repair their siblings relationship.
#omori#mari omori#omori mari#shrimperini#emori au#sunny omori#omori sunny#aubrey omori#hero omori#this is not meant to demonize mari in any way!#this is meant to make her human like she’s supposed to be portrayed as!
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Chorizo Stew Recipe
For @ashen-crest, who expressed interest and anyone else who might want to give this a try.
A general note - this is not something you have to follow by rote. You can adjust virtually everything in this recipe: ingredients, cooking time, method, spices and it will still come out great. It's also a really simple recipe: one pot (less washing up!), about 10 minutes of prep time (great for low spoon and effort days) and doesn't need constant supervision once cooking (so great for getting anything else done in the meantime). It can also be really cheap and most of the ingredients are shelf-stable (chorizo is already a preserved meat and will last longer than you think) so it doesn't need to be planned for especially and it's packed full of vegetables so it's pretty dang healthy.
I suggest using a dutch oven - they hold their heat well, are oven-safe and have a lid - but I've also used Pyrex dishes before. The important thing is an oven-safe vessel that can hold a lot - this is a big meal and you usually wind up with leftovers.
Ingredients:
Chorizo sausage (the whole link if you can find it - apparently it was really difficult to find in my wife's hometown in the States, she made do with a minced version. There's usually both a hot and mild version - feel free to use whichever one speaks to you/the preferences of everyone else eating this)
Tomatoes (tinned - I prefer pre-chopped but follow your heart. If you have a glut of home-grown tomatoes, use those if you want)
Sweetcorn (frozen, canned, whatever you have)
Onions (fresh or frozen - we love the ease of the frozen pre-chopped ones but use what needs using at any given time)
Optional additional vegetables and pulses (whatever you have lurking around in cupboards. This dish is great for using up beans, chickpeas and lentils)
Garlic (fresh, granules, salt...there really isn't a wrong way to garlic)
Paprika (hot or mild, choose your own adventure!)
Pasta
Optional cheese (to serve. A mature/sharp cheddar goes well but really, any 'melty' cheese will be great)
Method:
Chop chorizo, onions and garlic (if using fresh). Add to dutch oven. Add everything except pasta and cheese. Seriously, dump it all in to one pot. I told you this was simple. Also add about a tomato can worth of water (which is a great way to rinse your can and get all the tomato juice into your meal instead of in the bin). At this point it might look like a watery mess - trust the method. You'll need that water later.
With the lid on, cook in an oven at 180°C (Gas Mark 4, Moderate, 350°F) for at least 40 minutes but you can leave this longer to develop more flavor and make chorizo more tender, just make sure it doesn't dry out.
Add pasta 20 minutes before serving and return to oven. Add additional water if needed - all pasta should be underneath the liquid and there should be enough liquid for the pasta to absorb.
Serve in bowls with a topping of cheese if desired.
There are no measurements for ingredients: this dish doesn't really need a strict proportion so I've not included them. It's adjustable for how many vegetables you want, how many people you are feeding, etc. This can also easily be made vegan/vegetarian with simply removing the chorizo and cheese as needed - just adjust with more paprika and garlic to get the same hit of flavor. I've made this dish a lot of different ways (chicken breast instead of chorizo, for example), lots of different beans, no beans, no corn) and it's always really good. I did some quick maths using Tesco prices and this works out at about £2 per very hearty portion including absolutely everything but Aldi/Lidl are much cheaper for most ingredients. If you use gluten free pasta, it's obviously more expensive (add 25p per portion). But for the most part, the ingredients shouldn't need to be bought - this is a way to use up tins of things you'd forgotten about or just have a surplus of on hand.
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1, 4, 8 & 13 for the dm asks?
1. how did you get into ttrpgs? was there a transition into the dm’s seat, or have you always been there? are you playing more often than you’re running or vice versa?
through titansgrave! a friend of mine recommended it to me because of hank green and wil wheaton back in 2015 and I watched it, then watched CR because of *harp music* laura bailey/because it was another G&S ttrpg show. Obv CR is what I got hooked on; I was a really early Critter. After that I played in a oneshot that same friend ran, then ended up being the DM for our group for a bit before the game fizzled. I've pretty much always been in the DM's seat—I was a DM before I was a player, and didn't get to join a long-running game until a couple of years after I started DMing. These days I'm both playing and DMing long-running games, plus running/playing a few oneshots, so I'd say I'm about 50/50. Maybe 60/40—I'm playing in more games than I'm running, technically.
4. do you have any noticeable dm mannerisms? anything you’ve picked up from ttrpg shows or other dungeon masters in your life? or common tropes, themes, or encounters that reappear across your games?
I have picked up SO many habits from other DMs. A recent one I've nabbed from Brennan Lee Mulligan is letting players know what number on the die they'll need to beat for certain challenges. In the early days I had a LOT of mercerisms, but I've grown out of those as I've played more (and seen more people DM). As for reappearances, I tend to reuse oneshots in my campaign—or rather, I use oneshots to prep and plan future challenges in my campaign. Does that count?
8. what types of stories do you like to tell? what is a game of yours incomplete without?
I really enjoy reconciliation and forgiveness? Also stupid complex science-adjacent lore. (Case in point: the third act plot twist in my current game is going to be aliens.) But yeah, all my players gave me really sad family backstories and I think in every case they've returned to their hometown/background I've tried to introduce familial reconciliation instead of like, cutting those ties wholesale.
13. favorite place(s) you’ve describe or created?
Oh man. I really like the magical university, which is a floating city that I stole from RQG thanks Alex above a town and like, so fucked up. Just so super fucked up. Enikö's evil backstory NPC is the university president which is really all you need to know. I also LOVE The Museum At The Top Of The World, which belongs to my aforementioned avariel sorcerer and is where they're trapped. If you're gonna be stuck on a mountaintop may as well make yourself a museum about it.
dm/gamemaster asks
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Got tagged by my fellow Dream Lord, @julcheninred ...
Relationship status: Married. Not currently plotting murder.
Favorite color: Green!
Favorite food: Any combination of bread, tomato, and cheese.
Song stuck in your head: I have music playing, so that’s drowning out whatever’s in there (current song is “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol)
Last thing you’ve googled: “Elden Ring dungeons list.” I’m stuck on the fucking Elden Beast fight, so I’m taking a break and running through all the dungeons I’ve missed or skipped.
Time: 12:48 PM
Last book you read: When Sorrows Come by Seanan McGuire. I’m prepping for the new Toby book that’s coming out at the end of the month.
Last book you enjoyed: Not a re-read? The Grief of Stones by Katherine Addison.
Last book you hated reading: I no longer read books that I hate. Like, I’ll finish a “meh” book, but if I find myself actively hating the book, I just quit. I believe the last time this happened, it was 21 Lessons for the 21st Century. I was hoping for something better than the 1am honors dorm room pontificating I got (do not get me started on the section on science fiction).
Favorite thing to cook/bake: I like the process of baking chocolate chip cookies, especially with fresh brown sugar. I like to have baked bread, because I make good bread, but the process is loooong.
Favorite craft to do in your free time: I don’t really craft much--most of my free time is spent reading or, at the moment, playing Elden Ring. I do want to learn to make my own notebooks, though.
Most niche dislikes: Jazz? I hate jazz. My coworkers find this weird. Oh, I am also not fond of Chicago citation style. I think its bibliographies look weird and crowded.
Opinion on circuses: Love fictional circuses. Fantasy circuses (MirrorMask’s, as an example), horror circuses (I am quite fond of the Circus of the Other in Magnus Archives), a dusty, 30s-era circus as a setting for a novel. Have no desire to go to a circus in real life. (side note: I got lost at the circus when I was small, which was not traumatic for me but was pretty traumatic for my mother.)
Do you have a sense of direction and if not what’s the worst way you’ve gotten lost?: Yeeesss? Okay, I can’t label my left and right. If you say “go left,” there are 50 50 odds that I will turn right, honestly thinking I am turning left. However, if I, say, know I am facing north, and you tell me to go east, I will do it. I am pretty good at knowing where the main roads are from where I am in areas I’m familiar with. I’ve successfully navigated people who thought we were lost back to civilization in my hometown and current city.
That said, the worst time I got lost was coming back from a friend’s place in another town where I’d only been once, with the hungry three year old in the back seat. Ugh.
Last song I listened to: The Mary J. Blige cover of “Stay With Me.”
Last show I watched: She Hulk, Attorney at Law.
Currently watching: I guess that? It’s coming out once a week.
Currently reading: Nothing, as I just finished a book yesterday, but I’m going to re-read Paladin’s Hope by T. Kingfisher next.
Current obsessions: Sandman has made a triumphant return to my obsessions list. Still obsessed with the album The Horror and the Wild by The Amazing Devil, but it got interrupted by a desire to deep dive into Panic! at the Disco’s discography. Elden Ring, god help me. And the cozy fantasy romance refuses to leave me alone, despite the two sets of revisions I need to be working on.
I am tagging @lookninjas, @silver-stargazing, @kaoticspoonie (if you want to, no pressure) and anyone else who wants to do this.
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐏: 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐔
𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎
the chat is semi-lit to lit! don't be frightened by this lengthy post
the bear is a tv show produced by FX productions, following a world-class chef as he returns to his hometown, chicago, to reinvent the restaurant his older brother owned before passing away. the road to accomplishing this is rough, and despite having a fully constructed vision of what the restaurant could become, being surrounded by people pessimistic about change makes it close to impossible. with a lack of understanding as to why the chef inherited the restaurant, after explicitly not being allowed to work there by his older brother, his brother’s closest friend becomes the biggest challenge on the road to reinvention.
note: you do not need to have seen the show to be a part of the roleplay!! what’s most important is basic knowledge, which can be found in this post alone. however, I do encourage anyone interested(or uninterested) to watch this utterly amazing piece of media. It is truly a great tv show.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓 | http://aminoapps.com/p/y0nvwq
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐎𝐂 | http://aminoapps.com/p/rini30
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐄
the french brigade is a system used in advanced kitchens, to achieve the highest level of focus, cooperation, and communication between stations. there are assigned roles to each chef, and you only operate within your field unless explicitly asked by the head chef to do otherwise. this is a system that is eventually adapted into the kitchen in the show, and therefore understanding these roles is important.
chef de cuisine | head chef
the chef de cuisine, or the cdc, is the head chef of the kitchen, and what this role implies is pretty self-explanatory. the chef de cuisine is in charge of all activities related to the kitchen, which includes anything from managing the staff to the safety measures of the restaurant to purchasing stock and equipment to the menu and plate designs. the plate de cuisine is the boss, also called the ringleader of the circus.
sous chef de cuisine | second in command
the sous chef de cuisine is the second in command of the kitchen, also called the right hand of the chef de cuisine. the sous chef de cuisine is mostly in charge of supervision and delegating tasks among the staff. they’re also in charge of the efficiency in the kitchen and overseeing each station to make sure each dish provided to the costumers meets the highest standard.
chef executif | executive/business
a chef executif is in charge of most executive tasks. this includes overseeing prep work and ensuring that all dishes leaving the kitchen are consistent in both presentation and quality, based on prearranged standards and designs. they’re also in charge of maintaining the costs of stock and supervising the kitchen's economy. the chef executif is also in charge of designing the menu, the layout of the restaurant, and all other business-related activities, in cooperation with the chef de cuisine.
chef departie | station chef
a chef de partie runs a specific station in the kitchen and is in charge of cooking and presenting high-quality dishes that relate to their specialty. they also report to the sous chef about the progress throughout the day and are generally in charge of preparations of dishes, cooking, and plating.
some examples of chef de partie roles are: saucier(sauce chef), patissier(pastry chef), boucher(butcher chef), poissonnier(fish chef), friturier(fry chef), grillardin(grill chef) or entemetier(vegetable chef)
𝐎𝐂 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌
put your role in the french brigade under occupation:
name:
age:
occupation:
sexuality:
wiki link(if you have one):
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒
there are obviously also canon characters in the show, and here are the ones remaining to be snatched. we are mostly seeking a richie right now, and a natalie(sugar). but please feel free to snatch anyone you like and become part of the team!
you can also play more than one character!
richie
natalie(sugar)
tina
marcus
uncle jimmy
donna
ebraheim
sweeps
𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
please don’t be afraid to join!
&
let it rip!
#the bear#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#richie jerimovich#sydney adamu#jeremy allen white#roleplay#amino apps#carmen berzatto#rpg
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Trina smarky mark
#Trina smarky mark tv
Additional toppings include bacon, ham, or Ramsey’s sautéed swiss chard, which he cooks down with plenty of garlic and a high-quality extra virgin olive oil. Each sandwich is then topped with two slices of Cabot sharp cheddar cheese and either a spicy sriracha ailoli, truffle ketchup, or a red-eye mayo. “We went through several iterations, just testing and testing, while everybody weighed in regarding the individual components.” The final product includes a base of airy Chip-In Farm eggs that have been whipped with cold chunks of Cabot 83 butter in a Vita-Prep machine. “The funny about this sandwich is that we built it just like we used to do at America’s Test Kitchen,” says co-owner Charles Kelsey, who met his wife and business partner, Rachel, while working under Christopher Kimball. Two years into their always-busy existence, this 16-seat standout sandwich shop in Brookline invited all of its employees to chip in on making the perfect breakfast sandwich. Cutty’s: Cutty’s Egg Sandwich on Pretzel Bagel Each order is served with a side of Postal’s duck fat home fries.ġ1 Broad Canal Way, Kendall Square, Cambridge 61 or .Ĭutty’s egg sandwich with swiss chard on a pretzel bagel. It just makes it.” On weekdays between 10 and 11 a.m., you can order Commonwealth’s Dirty Jersey on Stone & Skillet English muffins or on pastry chef Nick DeLuca’s freshly baked brioche buns during Marky Mark and the Funky Brunch, which takes place every Sunday between 10 a.m. “You need gooey, decadent American cheese. “You don’t use some fancy cheese, which we have plenty of those here,” says Postal. It doesn’t matter, I still won’t eat Trenton Pork Roll.” As an homage to his native hometown and a sandwich he made at his first job at Bagelicious in Ridgewood, Postal combines seared Taylor Ham (“Jersey Spam”), scrambled eggs, ketchup, and American cheese. “People are crazy about one or the other, even though they’re pretty much the same thing with a different name. “Jersey is pretty much split into two schools, either you eat Taylor Ham or Trenton Pork Roll,” says Nookie Postal, chef and owner of Commonwealth in Cambridge. The Dirty Jersey with duck fat home fries at Commonwealth. After trying it, I realized it would be a good way to introduce carnitas to our customers, something that’s a major focus here at the restaurant.”ġ24 Broadway, Somerville 61 or. “I stayed overnight watching it and in the morning I was looking for something to eat, so I pulled off some of the pork to make a sandwich for me and the staff. The silky ribbons of swine are piled on top of a fresh Pain D’Avignon brioche bun with a fried egg, pea shoots, and a slab of Fiddlehead Tomme cheese from New Hampshire’s Boggy Meadow Farm. “I came up with it while I was roasting a whole pig one weekend,” Bojorquez says. Bojorquez first cures a bone-in Berkshire pork shoulder in paprika, brown sugar, and salt, then slow roasts it for eight hours in La Brasa’s trademark wood-burning oven. Photo by Chelsea KyleĬhef Daniel Bojorquez’s new Somerville spot has only been open a month, but it’s already drawing plenty of buzz for its smoke-kissed creations like this porky Sunday offering.
#Trina smarky mark tv
And head to our 2022 TV premiere schedule to see what new and returning shows are hitting primetime and beyond.La Brasa’s pork breakfast sandwich. Be sure to watch how she does next when the iconic game show airs daily in syndication check your local listings to see when and where it’s playing in your area. No telling if Ryherd will enter the list of most successful Jeopardy! champions in history after this fun-filled first win, but they all had to start somewhere. Now Halley Ryherd just needs to make it through the rest of her life without saying anything like, "You know, that actor Rakim from the movies Ted and The Departed." I’ve talk to my therapist about it and I think I’m ready to forever be the person who mixed up Public Enemy and Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch on Jeopardy. (And for a clue that referred to Sesame Street, of all things.) And she had a great attitude about the highly public (enemy) error, saying this with a post-episode tweet: Thankfully, Halley Ryherd came out as the champion in the end, despite none of the three contestants landing Final Jeopardy successfully.
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Hey, Have you entered the Fresh Fiction giveaway to win Sarah Vance-Tompkins' Magical Moon Giveaway -- Win a book + Amazon Gift Card yet? If you refer friends you get more chances to win :) https://wn.nr/htKxSX
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ftrr timestamp: casting calls
in honor of harry finally getting his hj in for the right reasons this week, here’s the casting calls from the scrapped prologue.
“Harry, buddy. How are you doing?”
Harry knows what Niall’s called to ask. He doesn’t give two shits how Harry’s doing. Fucking producers, always after something.
“No.” Harry says. “My answer is no.”
"Harry, come on," Niall's face freezes and then unfreezes. "Harry, it's you. They want you."
He freezes again, for longer this time.
At least the shitty connection means the footage probably won't get used on the show at any point. Not that they would use it anyway, seeing as Harry’s answer is and will remain a firm, ‘no.’
Harry's laying in bed, laptop on his lap, prep notes for the Bar Exam open in the window behind the FaceTime. He has no intention of moving, not for this call.
"I'm not interested, Niall."
"Oh, cause you're so ready to return to your 'life plan' doing real estate law somewhere in flyover country?"
"I'm not any good at it, Niall," Harry replies. He's not. He's a hot mess, and he's proved it. "The sleep deprivation gets to me.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t stop me,” Niall says, covering a yawn.
“I tried to proposition Megan as she was breaking up with me." Not his finest moment. She’d been wearing that red dress and looking at him with those big, brown, sad eyes. Goodbye sex had seemed like just the thing.
"We didn't even put that in," Niall crackles to a halt.
They didn't. That was nice of them, in a way. Harry did get a decent edit, all things considered.
"We cut almost all of your boners, too. Not an easy job," Niall finishes, his words all stuck together playing catch-up.
Harry laughs a little, his gaze passing over the walls of his room which haven't changed much since high school. They're covered in track and field cut outs from magazines and posters of bands he hasn't listened to in years.
"I'm just a guy. I'm not meant to be on TV, chased by dozens of people. I'm not cut out to be famous."
"You made it to Hometowns on The Bachelor. You went from one hundred to one fucking million Instagram followers in three months. Harry-- you're born for this shit."
"You sound like Louis," Harry replies without thinking.
Niall hums.
After a long pause (or maybe another freeze, who can tell), Niall says, "How many offers come in a day to get you off via DM?"
"Why do I still take your calls?" Harry wonders.
"How many?" Niall presses.
"A few... not that many! And what does that have to do with me signing on to be The Bachelor?"
"If you come on the Bachelor, I promise you will receive the best hand job of your life."
"I don't need to go on TV again to get an hj. We were just talking about my DMs."
Niall doesn't say anything. And the pause allows Harry to consider what his life has been the last few months. Honestly, he can't imagine even trying to hook-up the normal way, at least not any time soon.
"How do you know I'm going to get a good hj? Are you going to give it to me?" Harry asks. The thought does not appeal to him.
"Hell, no," Niall says. "I'm not getting anywhere near your dick."
"Then how can you promise I'll get one, let alone that it'll be the best one of my life?"
"Have I ever lied to you?" Niall asks.
He hasn't, is the thing. Every single thing Niall said would happen on Harry's season did happen. And it happened exactly the way Niall said it would happen.
"You haven't," Harry allows.
Niall nods. “They’ll send the paperwork your way tonight and set up a formal meeting in a day or two.”
After he hangs up with Niall, Harry finds himself scrolling back and back and back in his messages to Louis’, I’m bringing champagne.
He types, Hey man. I just agreed to be the bachelor in exchange for an hj.
He’s pretty sure Louis would find that hilarious.
But he closes out the thread without sending the message. It would be cruel to rub it in his face, that Harry’s now accomplished Louis’ dreams, while Louis’ own casting tapes are likely somewhere out of mind, gathering dust.
~
“Hey, Louis. This is Niall, Executive Producer on the Bachelor. Alicia from casting connected us.”
“Hey, Niall.” Louis’ sitting in the parking lot outside the gym. Niall’s called in with video, but Louis answered with speaker only. He’s very sweaty.
“Thanks for taking my call.”
“Yeah,” Louis says. He’s not sure why he did. He hadn’t planned to— he’s got a DM and an email from the guy, both sitting unanswered.
“She says she had everything all set up for you to come on this season, but that in the last week, you’ve decided to bail.”
It’s all true.
“I thought you were gonna go with Claude for Bachelor.”
Claude’s not Louis’ type; he spends at least twice as much time at the gym as Louis, and that's saying something. But Louis could have made a good, deep run on a Claude season.
“Could still be Claude,” Niall says.
“C‘mon, don’t bullshit me. We both know it’s Harry. My sister told me.”
Niall remains quiet.
Louis’ always suspected the producers were lying dicks, but he didn’t expect them to be quite this up front about it.
Fucking hell. “You wouldn’t be calling me if it were Claude.”
“Bro, you wouldn’t have gotten the first call from Alicia two weeks back if we hadn’t known then it’d be Harry.”
“Why do you want me there? Night one he’s sending me home. I’ll be a flop of a storyline.”
“You leave the storytelling up to us. It’ll be worth your effort in followers, I promise.”
Louis thinks of the barrage of hate he’d seen thrown at one particular guy from last season who’d dared to suggest he didn’t necessarily want kids. Liars and cheats fared much worse. “No thanks, man. I’m good.”
“You’ve got, what, two modeling contracts in the last six months? Your career as a real estate mogul must be really picking up.”
“You’re an asshole,” Louis says.
“I tell the truth,” Niall says. “And I’ve got two more truths to lay on you now. One, your tapes are going into the trash after this. You want to come on this show, this is your shot. Two, I have a strategy suggestion, something that’d be fun for you and Harry and interesting for the viewers.”
“Fun?” Louis’ dreamed about going on The Bachelor for a long time, but he’s never expected the experience would be all that fun. The travel might be enjoyable, should he make it far enough.
Niall lays out his plan.
"Harry'll never go for it. I think he's really looking for love, man."
"Yes. Which is exactly why he'll go for it."
Niall might be right on that count. "Okay," Louis hears himself say. "I'm in."
Niall lets out a breath and Louis realizes that he hadn't actually been sure Louis'd say yes. Good to know he's already got an EP scrambling to woo him.
"We'll send along the paperwork to the email Alicia's got on file for you. Initial shooting of the contestants starts in four days and Harry's already on set, so we don't have a lot of time to dick around here."
"Got it," Louis says. "No time to second guess myself."
"Talk to you soon, Louis."
And Niall's hung up.
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Text
begin again - part four
Jax Teller x female!Reader
Summary: After the return of her abusive ex-boyfriend, the reader plots her escape
Word count: 2,9k words
Warnings: bad language, alludes to the death of a minor character, physical & verbal abuse & kinda angsty
Author's note: Enjoy the fourth installment and all feedback is welcome! :)
If you’re in an abusive relationship or you suspect that someone you know is being abused, speak up and reach out to the correct people!
Beta read by @crucifixedbitch
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE
💀💀💀💀💀
You examine your face in the mirror, pleased with the job you’ve done to conceal the marks left by B/N. Last night was brutal and you would do anything to erase it from your memory. To never have it happen again.
“Toots!” A loud pounding sounds on the bathroom door, “Come on, sweetheart, we’ve got to go.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I-I’ll be there in a second.” Moving quickly, you pack your makeup back into your cosmetic bag. “I just need to grab my bag.”
“Five minutes, okay?” he sounds irritated with you. “We’ll wait outside.”
With a shaking hand, you zip the bag closed and leave the bathroom for the bedroom. Your handbag is on the bed but your phone’s not on its usual spot at your bedside table and you just know B/N has something to do with its disappearance. And you know that it’ll be a while before you see it again. You’re so upset, it brings tears to your eyes but there’s no time for them. He’s waiting for you and being late will lead to trouble.
S/N and B/N are on the small patch of grass outside the house, kicking around a ball.
“You gotta kick the ball to me, okay kid? You gotta kick it hard.”
S/N scurries towards the ball and kicks it so hard, it zooms between B/N’s open legs and bounces off of the fence. They both cheer from excitement, and S/N runs straight into B/N’s open arms.
“That was amazing, buddy!”
You clap your hands, drawing their attention to you.
“Did you see that, Mommy?”
“I did, ace, and it was so good.” You walk over to join them on the grass, “Hey, sweet boy.”
You haven’t seen your son all morning. You lift him off the ground and hug him to your chest, it feels good to hold him so close to you, and for the second time in the last five minutes, you feel you might cry. The three of you make your way over to B/N’s rental SUV parked on the small driveway.
“Mommy, are you feeling cold?”
You briefly glance over to B/N who’s prepping the baby car seat. “A little. Mommy’s not feeling too well.”
“Do you need chicken soup?”
You chuckle and press a kiss to his forehead, “Will you help me make it when we get back?”
He pinky promises you to. You hand him over to B/N who buckles him into the car seat. It’s not his intention, but you can’t help but feel humiliated by S/N’s question. A turtleneck and jeans in the dead of the summer in Charming, California? That’s sure to raise suspicions.
“Baby, do you not think I should stay behind?”
B/N turns in his seat, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”
Pointing at your turtle neck, you explain, “It’s going to draw attention. It’s summer and I’m dressed for winter.”
“And you care what these people think of you?”
Yes, a lot. It’s your fucking hometown, of course, you care! You want to scream at him, claw at his face, but you’re weak. Pathetic. You can’t even muster the courage to get away from him.
“Sweetheart, no one’s going to be looking at you. Trust me.”
Ouch.
“Don’t ruin this outing by being so self-obsessed.” He starts the car’s engine and backs out of the driveway, “Do you want to listen to some music, buddy?”
Today’s your last day in Charming, B/N’s orders. Later on today, you’ll embark on a five-day road trip back to North Carolina. The idea of being trapped in the car with B/N has you regretting every decision you have made in your life that has led you to this point. Forty fucking hours? The car just isn’t big enough and no amount of eagerness from S/N can change your mind.
“When we get back, I need to see Mabel.”
Mabel’s a friendly neighbor who lives down the street from your mother’s. She moved to Charming a few months before your escape to Charlotte, and since your return, she has been a great help.
“Who’s Mabel?”
“She lives down the road.”
“Why do you need to see her?”
To use her phone to call Jax. “I want to give all my mother’s old furniture to charity. She offered to help me organize it.” It’s a believable lie, “It shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”
After a dragged-out silence, he murmurs a soft ‘okay’ and warns you not to do anything stupid. “I might not be able to stop myself this time around.”
The chilling part is that it’s not an empty threat. You look back at S/N who’s softly singing along to ‘Old MacDonald Had A Farm’, gazing out the car window. Leaving Charming was a decision you made for his sake, to protect him from his father’s world. To give him a shot at a normal childhood, to raise him away from gangs and violence. Instead, you found yourself in the clutches of a wicked man who will one day kill you.
“Mommy, will we see Abel before we leave?”
“No,” B/N responds before you can.
God, you fucking hate him. Your feelings towards him are violent, and you’ve got to come out of the car before you act recklessly.
“Stop the car.” You unbuckle your seatbelt prompting the seatbelt alarm to go off. “Stop the car, B/N, now!”
He pulls into the empty parking space in front of a bridal shop. You frantically open the car door and stumble out of the vehicle, gasping for air. So glad to have distance from the devil you call your boyfriend.
“Toots, what’s wrong?”
You take a step away from him, needing the space. “I need to breathe, B/N.”
That upsets him. “What are you trying to do? Huh? Get in the fucking car so I can drive to the grocery store.”
You pace around in a circle on the sidewalk, contemplating your next move. You can’t run off, B/N could easily catch you and S/N’s still in the car. You can’t leave him, even though you know B/N would never harm him. He loves him too much. Think, think, think! You have a moment of clarity when you look across the street and see who you believe to be Bobby Munson sitting at an ice cream shop. What are the odds?
“Ice cream and candy!” You spin to look at B/N who’s shooting daggers at you. “I want ice cream and we need candy for the road trip, don’t we?”
“What are you doing, Y/N?”
You walk back to the car to open S/N’s door and start unbuckling him from his car seat. “D’you want ice cream, ace?”
His face lights up. “Ice cream! Ice cream!” he chants.
“Alright. Come on.” You shut the car door, S/N clutched tightly in your arms, “It’s just a small pit stop. Do you want any?”
B/N looks furious but there isn’t much he can do to you out in the open. He’s starting towards you when his work phone starts ringing. He has to take the call and so he tells you to go ahead, he’ll meet you inside the shop. You flash him a smile and make your way to Scoops & Sweets. Now that you’re closer, you’re certain it’s Bobby, and he’s standing behind the counter with his arm in a sling, drinking beer.
“Bobby?”
“Y/N?” His stony expression morphs into a smile, “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hi, Bobby.” For the first time in the last 12 hours, you feel safe. “I thought it was you.”
“Who’s the kid?”
“This is S/N,” you look proudly at your son. “Say hello to Bobby, ace?”
Bashful, he waves awkwardly at Bobby before concealing his face in the crook of your neck. You casually look over your shoulder to check if B/N’s still on his call before you turn back to Bobby.
“Bobby, is there a phone I can use? I want to call Jax, there’s something I want to tell him, and my phone’s broken.”
He looks out the window to B/N who’s pacing next to the rental. “Why didn’t you ask your friend to use his phone?”
“He doesn’t like to share.”
Bobby looks back at you. “Jax’s upstairs. Come, I’ll take you up to him. Bring the kid.”
Bobby calls for Chuckie who emerges from what you assume to be the staff break room. When you last saw Chuckie, he had fingers.
“What happened to your fingers?”
“Chinese cut them off,” he holds up his prosthetic hands. “These were a gift from Gemma.”
You regret asking. Bobby orders him to keep watch of the shop and starts leading you towards the flight of stairs.
“Uh Chuckie, a man will come in here looking for me. Could you tell him I went into the bathroom?”
Chuckie nods and you continue on your way with Bobby.
“Is this the new clubhouse?”
“Somethin’ like that.” Bobby leads you and S/N down a short hallway and stops in front of a closed door. He knocks once before he opens it, “Visitor for Jax Teller.”
The men in the room, consisting of Jax, Chibs, Tig, Happy, and Juice, all turn to the door. From their expressions, you’d swear they’ve just seen a ghost. You might as well be a ghost.
Jax raises off his chair and crosses the space to join you at the door. “Is everything okay?”
“Hi, boys. I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting,” suddenly, coming to Jax seems like a bad idea. But B/N. You put S/N on the ground. “I just wanted to see you before we leave this afternoon.”
Jax scowls.
“We’re headed back home to North Carolina. Driving.” You throw your arms around your ex, wincing at the discomfort you feel at the contact. “I’m so glad I could see you again.”
He returns your hug, holding you flush against him and you don’t care that you’re in pain. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that the bottom hem of your sweater’s risen, probably exposing the bruises on your lower back. There’s a pang of pain in your heart when he releases you. The tears blur your vision. God, you hate that you’re so emotional today.
“How are you getting home?”
“B/N arrived last night, he’s waiting for us downstairs.” Probably impatient and suspicious. “We should probably get going.”
Downstairs, B/N’s at the counter listening to Chuckie recount the time he had his fingers cut off by Lin’s men. S/N leaps out of your arms and runs over to B/N.
“Here’s your candy.” Chuckie slides two bags of candy to you, “Don’t worry about paying, it’s on the house.”
You smile at him. “Thank you.”
B/N snatches the candy from the counter and the three of you make your way out of the shop. It’s a short trip to the grocery store and luckily for you, there aren’t a lot of people buying groceries whilst you’re there. The tension from earlier has subsided, and the ride back to your mother’s house is a sing-along with S/N leading you. You’re helping B/N unload the bag of groceries from the car when you spot a familiar van at the end of your street.
“When will you go to Mabel’s?”
“After lunch,” you start unpacking the groceries, “I’m sure you boys are hungry.”
“Starving.” He leans over to press a kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll have a beer with my lunch.”
He leaves you in the kitchen to join S/N who’s building Lego in the living room. You’ve just finished laying all the lunch ingredients on the counter when you hear the thunderous roar of a motorcycle outside your house. Shortly after, a knock sounds.
“I’ll get it,” you call from the kitchen.
Unfortunately, B/N beats you to the door. He angrily signals for you to go back into the kitchen.
“Do as you’re fucking told,” he warns through gritted teeth. “Go back to the kitchen.”
You open your mouth to protest but he marches over to you, grabbing your arm harshly, and drags you through the kitchen to the laundry nook.
“You’re hurting me!” you complain, struggling in his firm grip.
The sound of the back of his hand connecting with your cheek bounces off the walls of the small space. You forcefully shove him away from you and try to escape but he hooks a strong arm around your waist and hauls you back into the nook.
“Let go of me!” you claw at his arms and the pain causes him to release you.
“You little bitch!”
He lunges towards you but you’re quicker than him. You grab the first item in your reach which happens to be an iron and whack him on the head with enough force to make him cry out from the pain. You dash past him and run to open the front door at the same time Jax is about to shoot at the door.
His scowl deepens at your disheveled appearance. “Where is he?”
“In the laundry nook. I hit him on the head but he’s still conscious.”
“Where is the kid?”
S/N! You run into the living room, your eyes frantically searching around the space for your little boy. His Legos are strewn on the floor but there’s no sight of him. “S/N?”
“Mommy!”
He’s behind the couch. You find him curled up, his eyes closed and his hands covering his ears.
“My baby.” You scoop him in your arms and carry him towards the front door. “Jax?”
He calls back from the kitchen and tells you to go outside. “Rat’s got the van out front.”
“But Jax–”
“Go!”
You rush out of the house, S/N cradled in your arms. You’ve just stepped onto the patch of grass when you hear grunts coming from the house. Ratboy meets you at the gate and takes S/N from your shaking hands to carry to the van. He helps you into the vehicle before he climbs into the driver’s seat.
“Where are you taking us?”
“Gemma’s.”
💀💀💀💀💀
S/N and Abel are asleep in Jax’s old bedroom and you’re sitting at Gemma’s dining table staring blankly into space. If you had been told a week ago that you’d be seeking asylum at Gemma Teller’s home, you wouldn’t have believed it. You replay the last twenty-four hours in your head, you’re somewhat in disbelief of all that’s happened.
Gemma places a gentle hand on your shoulder, drawing you back to reality. “Here you go sweetheart,” she places a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of you, “it should help calm your nerves.”
“Thank you.” You place both of your shaking hands on the mug, watching as Gemma takes her place across the table from you. “Have you heard anything from Jax?”
“No,” she reaches for the box of cigarettes on the table. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
You nod, your eyes dropping to the mug. “Did he… did he tell you why he had Ratboy bring me here?”
“Psycho boyfriend,” she takes a pull from the lit cigarette. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
The shame brings fresh tears springing to your eyes. It makes it worse to know that this time around, S/N was awake to hear it all. You feel like you’ve failed him, exposed him to the very thing you vowed to protect him from when you left Charming all those years ago.
“What do I tell S/N?”
“Nothing,” she stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray. “You shouldn’t worry yourself with that right now. You should try get some sleep, you can worry about that tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.” You take a small sip of the hot tea and sigh, “This is all my fault.”
“Sweetheart, no.”
“It is and now I’ve gone and gotten Jax involved in this mess.” The frustration is eating at you, “I just–”
You’re cut off by the kitchen door opening. Jax’s back. Thank the heavens! Gemma rushes over to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Are you okay, baby?”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
Joining you at the table, Jax pulls you into him and tenderly strokes your back. All your fears and concerns are alleviated once you’re in his arms.
“Did he hurt you?”
He chuckles and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You shouldn’t be worrying yourself with that.”
“I can’t help it,” you laugh through your tears.
“You should get some rest.”
“All my stuff is back at my mom’s.” The thought of returning to the scene of last night’s brutality has you shuddering. You pull away from Jax and roughly dry your tears. “I don’t… I can’t–”
Jax pulls you back into him, holding you tighter than before, and gently rocks you. “He’ll never hurt you again.”
Guilt. You feel a tremendous amount of guilt. Is he dead? Possibly, and your guilt deepens when you recognize a small part of you overjoyed by the possibility. He deserves it. How could you even think that? No one deserves to die — not even B/N.
“How are you going to get rid of the body?”
He doesn’t respond to your question, instead, he tells you that he’ll get Rat to bring yours and S/N’s bags to Gemma’s.
“Jax, don’t leave,” you plead, the surge of panic hits you like a freight train and has you fisting the hem of his shirt. “Stay.”
He presses a kiss to your covered shoulder. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you.
💀💀💀💀💀
PART FIVE
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