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junghelioseok · 3 years

Text

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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1kook · 3 years

Text

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting two

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: ITS A SLOW BURN OKAY...., sweetheart jk, campus crush jk, college crushes, social distancing, zoom -_-, jk owns a keroppi plush, oc thirsts over his hot bod, jk’s sweet attempts at flirting </3 he’s just 2 cute for his own good ratings: e for everyone <3 wc: 3.7k

notes: this took long bc i wrote one version but it was SO LAME u guys r lucky my friend and editor ( @kigurumu 🖤 ) stopped me from posting it. so then i had to reorganize my thoughts n b like girl. the ppl are waiting. get it together. anyway here’s zoom jk 😎

Being grouped with Jeon Jungkook (he/him) for your first class on the first day of your first Zoom semester truly sets the standard.

By no means do your other classes suck; they’re quite enjoyable, more relevant to your area of study. They’re familiar which makes them comfortable, your Zoom meetings filled with faces you’ve seen time and time again the last four years. The material interests you, so you definitely don’t have anything against them or your classmates.

That being said, no one is prepared for the awkwardness that comes with each and every Zoom meeting. You never thought you’d be embarrassed to turn your mic on— to speak in a class filled with your peers. And the meetings are all like that, filled with uncomfortable silences and endless black screens.

You wish there was a Jeon Jungkook (he/him) in every class.

Jungkook’s just got this bubbly aura to him, this magnetic presence that staples itself into the back of your mind with each passing day. No one fills a Zoom call like he does, making every person laugh and smile like him.

Wednesday rolls around and you find yourself a little disheartened when you don’t get sorted into the same randomized group as him again. Disappointment melts into annoyance when you find out how incompetent your other classmates are, refusing to speak in the small group or just completely clocking out all together. A lot of them didn’t do the reading— the one you stayed up all night doing —and your first partnered assignment of the semester finds you doing it all by yourself. Muted mics, black windows, complete radio silence; you hated it all.

You find yourself weirdly longing for Jeon Jungkook’s presence, even if he’s only there to talk about some movie he saw last night. No one is as much of a chatterbox as him, can’t even hold a candle to the way he draws everyone in with his mindless conversations. At least he speaks during Breakout Rooms, you think bitterly.

Anyway, the first week of classes ends and your brain is a frenzied mess. There’s schedules to memorize, professors to impress, assignments to plan out. There’s definitely no time to sit around and fantasize about the curly haired cutie in one of your general classes. The weekend is spent trying to organize your planner, filling in due dates and exam days ahead of time. It’s your last semester and you’re dead set on making it your best one yet. There’s a lot of written work this time around, analyses and research papers that need to be organized. The road ahead is manageable, but you’ll have to work hard to keep it that way for the next five months.

Most notably, there’s one group project waiting for you, which leads you to Friday. Sitting at your desk, bright and early, absolutely dreading being assigned to your group.

Jungkook is early this time, not like on Monday where he’d been one of the last to filter in, and he’s looking as chirpy as ever. Donning this horrendously hot pink shirt, completely unlike the neutral tones he’d worn during your last two meetings and that decorate his room, and the cutest pair of circle glasses sitting on his nose. He says his regularly scheduled ‘good morning’ to you all and receives a collective response from the rest of the class that not even your professor got.

Speaking of the professor, you’ve been giving him the stink eye this whole time. Not that he can tell, given the fact he’s probably miles away in his own home while you angrily glare at him through your webcam. It’s this old guy who’s decided to sort you all into semester long groups for the class, which is the absolute worst. These types of groups always go the same way: you make a group chat promising to study together, those plans fall through, and then everyone just leeches off of each other for homework answers. And in most cases, it’s you handing over your homework answers because no one else ever bothers to do anything. Sadly, it’s a routine you’ve had to suffer through many times in your academic career.

The thought makes you sick. Having to spend another semester being labeled as the bossy, nerdy dictator of the group? Not exactly how you wanted to spend the last few months of college, but there’s nothing you can do. Maybe this time around you’ll just let it be, won’t fight it (and by it, you mean your lazy classmates when they inevitably try to guilt trip you for homework) and simply let it run its course.

“I’m going to put you guys into Breakout Rooms with your new groups!” your professor claps excitedly, and then you and the rest of your classmates are forced to watch him lean too close to the camera as he begins clicking around to find the preset groups he’s assigned the class. “Remember, guys, this is it for the rest of the semester. So if something isn’t right, let me know by the end of today.”

Man, this was going to suck, you groan. The syllabus had said that the purpose of these groups was to keep you all connected with your classmates during these trying times, to give you the same opportunities in-person learning would. Frankly, you’re not too worried about making friends with everyone in this large class. Most of them are younger than you anyway, save for Jeon Jungkook (he/him) and a handful of others who are apparently in your year. Befriending lowerclassmen only to have to bid them adieu in a few months seems awfully sad, a little too heartbreaking. You really just want to get a good grade in this class, collect the last of your credits, and put this whole college experience behind you.

Your thoughts are wrapped up by the pop-up message that appears on screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 12

You sigh, contemplate dropping this class for all of two seconds, before dutifully accepting the request. Worse comes to worst, you make up some lie to tell your professor that you’re allergic to group work and hope it works. (It won’t.)

You sit through the mandatory loading screen for a few seconds before being abruptly dumped into your new room, Group 12, or so the message had said. There’s no one else here yet, which isn’t really a surprise. A lot of your classmates are probably like you, scowling at the pop up message every time your professor sends you into small groups before accepting the request. So you chill by yourself, eyes tracing over your own mirrored image. The notes on last night’s reading are neatly laid out before you, your copy of the book off to the side.

Another beat and then, much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is appearing in your room. “Oh,” he says, round eyes magnified by the thick lens of his glasses, the glare of the computer’s glow casting a funny shape across the lens that momentarily robs you of his pretty eyes. His pretty pink lips stretch into a smile, upper lip thinning out a bit when he flashes you those perfect teeth. “Hi, __,” he greets politely, bubbly.

It’s embarrassing how much his presence affects you, your back going ramrod straight in a terrible attempt to compose yourself. “Hi, Jungkook,” you manage to get out, fingers nervously reaching for something, anything, to ground yourself. They land on a pencil.

Jungkook doesn’t seem even the slightest bit aware of the commotion he causes within you. “I was really nervous for these groups,” he begins rambling right away, lips pushing down into an exaggerated frown as he shivers at the memory. “But I’m glad I got placed with someone hardworking like you!”

Despite how sweet he sounds, you’re not entirely sure if he’s buttering you up just to take advantage of your ‘hardworking’ attitude later down the road or if he’s genuinely being polite. The little information you know about Jungkook wants you to believe it is the latter; he’s very kind, sweet and nice in a way that makes everyone he speaks to feel warm. Still, for all you know this could be some elaborate ruse of his to make you trust him now and then convince you to do all the work for the rest of the semester.

Tentatively, you ask, “and how would you know that?” You try your best to keep your usual snappiness out of your voice, pose it simply out of curiosity. But everything you say or do feels like a stark contrast to Jungkook and his bubbliness.

His head tilts cutely to the side, imploring brown eyes looking at you for one hard second. And then, “I read your forum analysis from Wednesday,” he admits, breaking into a smile. Shy and tiny, bashfully looking down at his desk. “I thought your perspective on the piece was really interesting,” he says, lips pursing together as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to admit such things to you.

Stunned, all you can manage is one slow nod. “Thank you,” you eventually choke out, trying to ward the heat away from your cheeks as Jungkook sheepishly nods back, cute smile still on his face.

“Oh, please,” he chuckles, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me!”

It is in this exact moment that you are suddenly made aware of two things.

One: despite his collection of soft sweaters and t-shirts, his bouncy curls and sweet smile, Jeon Jungkook’s body is neither as cute nor as soft as any of his belongings. In fact, Jeon Jungkook’s body is all hard planes and prominent veins. Arms beefy, biceps that bulge beneath the fabric of the short sleeve t-shirt he’s donned today. His shoulders fill out the material nicely, making him look broad and huge, but that’s not even the worst part, because—

—two: Jeon Jungkook is covered in ink. Dark streaks and swirls paint his forearms, curling around his elbow. Every inch of his pale skin is littered with tiny designs. They dance along the back of his hands, over his knuckles, and end at an unidentifiable point beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. When he tugs at the neckline of his shirt in an effort to readjust it, you hope your eyes are deceiving you and that isn’t a hint of ink by his collarbone.

Your normal composure seems to slip away at the mere thought.

It’s Jungkook’s voice that brings you back, a soft timbre that asks, “aren’t we supposed to have someone else in our group?” You flinch as if you’ve been caught ogling him, never mind the fact he’s started mindlessly shuffling some papers around on his desk, not the slightest bit concerned with you.

“Oh— um, yes. I think,” you stammer, feeling like some creep for ogling your very cute, very sweet classmate. The memory of his inky skin nearly sends a shiver down your spine as you navigate back to the class syllabus. “We’re supposed to have at least three people,” you read off, glancing at the boy on your screen who frowns at the news.

“Do you think they dropped?” Given it was still only the first week of school, probably. There had been a fewer number of people in the call when it started, you remembered. Jungkook sighs, this rather light sound that ends in a hum. “Well, we can always wait a few minutes just in case.”

So you wait, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It’s not awkward, or at least, not as awkward as it would be with anyone else. The other week you had silently sat with another classmate in a one-on-one discussion and hadn’t uttered a word for five minutes. It wasn’t because you didn’t care about the class, but because said classmate had been tapping away on their phone the entire time and hadn’t even responded to your simple greeting. That was awkward.

With Jungkook it’s more weird than awkward. You can tell the silence makes him uncomfortable because he keeps doing these tiny inhales like he’s about to speak, followed by a little head shake where he seemingly stops himself from saying anything at all. He wants to talk, very badly it seems, but holds back for some odd reason.

He’s scribbling on some sheet of paper, leaning forward to give you a view of the top of his head. From this angle, his shirt hangs forward and a silver necklace falls out from beneath the neckline, thuds against the table. And then your suspicions are nearly confirmed, and oh god, is that a chest piece—

You quickly look away.

Robbed of his handsome face and feeling like you’ll die if you look at his body any longer, you settle for your newly acquired favorite pastime: inspecting your classmates’ rooms over Zoom. Yes, you’ll admit it is incredibly nosy, but what else can you do? You can only look at your professor for so long until you inevitably grow bored, attention drifting off to your classmates tiny windows. And with no professor in sight, just gorgeous Jeon Jungkook, you quickly begin your examination of his bedroom.

Jungkook’s room is pretty much the same as you remember it, rather neat and plain. There’s not a lot going on in terms of decoration, which is a little surprising to say the least. Over the course of the week, you’ve watched your classmates’ dormitories and bedrooms gradually change, decorations and tapestries decorating the walls, mountains of pillows added to their beds. It’s only natural that everyone has an innate need to show off who they are now more than ever, and you thought Jungkook would be the same.

Apparently not.

Aside from the guitar you had spotted on Monday, his little dorm room remains unchanged. Blank walls, grayscale sheets. The same perfectly fluffed pillows and then—

A tiny Keroppi plush smack dab in the middle of his bed.

It’s adorable but a little out of place amongst Jungkook’s rather masculine decorations (or lack thereof). A tiny green doll sitting by his pillows, cute striped shirt and ridiculously dopey smile.

Leaning forward, you unmute yourself and conversationally say, “I love your Keroppi.”

At the sudden sound of your voice, Jungkook abruptly straightens up, glasses practically at the very tip of his nose. Eyes wide, it takes him a second to process your words before jerkily whipping around to stare at the aforementioned item. “Oh,” he jumps, slowly looking at his screen again, lips pulled into a tight line. “Um… it’s not mi—“

“It’s adorable,” you add, propping your chin in your palm, absolutely endeared with the rosy color that paints his cheeks, fades down the column of his neck.

He squirms, hurriedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’ll deny it again, nervously nibbling at his lower lip, before eventually he settles with a sigh. “I won it from a crane machine,” he confesses with a sheepish huff of laughter, rolling backwards to the edge of his bed to snatch it from its spot.

(Of course he manspreads as he sits, dark jeans hugging his thighs as he rolls back your way. His arm looks so strong, covered in all that ink, you nearly drool.)

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” he says, abandoning his embarrassment as he shakes the little figure around, makes it look like it’s dancing for you. “My mom said it looks like me.”

At that, you laugh. Loud and boisterous because you were definitely not expecting Jungkook to say that, such an odd but weirdly fitting comparison that has you looking at the doll in his hands with renewed interest. And through the pixelated screen, you can see the similarities: Jungkook does have the same smile as Keroppi.

“Your mom was right,” you agree, wiping a faux tear from the corner of your eye. “Very cute.”

Jungkook’s got this big goofy smile on, shaking his head in disbelief that you would ever dare agree with his mom. Like he’s genuinely enjoying himself, you think, oddly proud to have evoked that reaction from him. Granted, Jungkook always looks like he’s pretty happy during class, but it feels nice knowing that you were (confirmed) the reason why.

A little caught up with the bumbling feeling in your chest, you’re not expecting his next words. “Does that mean I’m cute?” he asks, still with that same dopey smile on his face.

It’s a bold statement you wouldn’t have expected from him, someone who seems content being the world’s friend, but apparently Jeon Jungkook also craves compliments.

Slowly, you nod. “...yes,” you say, trying to keep the tumultuous emotions inside of you at bay while you grant him this one compliment. Outwardly, you give him what you hope is an obviously feigned look of disbelief, managing to lace it with a little amusement as you shake your head at his inquiry. On the inside, your mind and heart are a thundering racetrack, the roar of the engines and the screams of the crowd enough to momentarily make you lose your senses. “Very cute,” you repeat, hoping he can’t hear the same pounding of your heartbeat in your throat and in your ears as you do. “Like a little frog.”

Jungkook graces your robotic response with the most boyish laugh, head tossed back as one loud cackle (because, really, there is no other way to describe the sound that tears itself from his throat) escapes him, curls bouncing back from the movement. “Cute like a frog,” he wheezes, seemingly to himself as he shakes his head with a grin, scooting closer to the camera again. “That’s a new one.”

“You set yourself up for it,” you defend, busying yourself with the papers spread out in front of you before Jungkook can distract you any further. “Anyway!” you announce, neatly lining the papers up. “Our group.”

Jungkook does his best to wipe the glee off his face, but even as he reaches around for his things, it’s still there. “Right,” he agrees, “we have to, um—“ a huff of laughter “—group contract! Or, well, partner project.”

Briefly, you consider calling in your professor to inform him of your missing partner. He had said to let him know by the end of today if something was wrong. But, honestly, you didn’t see a problem with your group the way it was now. While you can only hope he’ll turn out to be as dedicated to his work as you, as it stands now, there weren’t any major red flags surrounding Jungkook’s character.

Besides, you didn’t mind being with him for the rest of the semester.

You nod, forcing yourself to ignore the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you through the screen. “I think it’s safe to say it’ll just be the two of us, which I don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the time on the corner of your screen to see five minutes have passed since you agreed to wait. “Do you?”

On screen, Jungkook profusely shakes his head, curls bouncing all over the place. “Nope,” he hums. “I don’t mind at all,” he reassures you, resting his chin in his palm as he regards you, and then sweetly adds, “it’ll be nice with just us, __.”

Right.

You gulp, heart fluttering at the dreaminess he exudes through your screen, the soft strand of hair that falls over his forehead, tickles his brow bone when he flashes you another smile. He was so handsome. Before you say anything silly, you quickly attempt to move on. “But it does make us more of a duo than a group.”

Jungkook looks away from his screen for the first time in what feels like forever and you finally let your heart rest for a second. “A duo,” he murmurs, shuffling through his papers. “Like Mickey and Minnie?”

You nearly choke on your spit, coughing to hide the surprise from his rather cute suggestion. He’s not even looking at you, doesn’t even realize the absolute shock he’s thrown you in by comparing the two of you to one of the most famous couples— that’s what they are, a goddamn couple, not a duo! the words mean two completely different things! —in the world. Instead, Jungkook is humming the theme song to Drake & Josh.

This man was dangerous for your heart.

After having felt all the emotions in the world in the span of ten seconds, you eventually gather the courage to say, “sure,” and quickly try to move the conversation along. “We just need to, um, make some ground rules and responsibilities for us to follow.”

Jungkook nods, finally glancing up again, but not at you. He’s glaring at some point behind his computer, brows furrowed together as he begins brainstorming on his own. You try to, really, but his lips pout adorably when he’s deep in thought, and they’re just so pink and look so soft and would feel like—

“Well, we should probably exchange numbers first,” Jungkook says, interrupting your spiraling thoughts with a new topic to spiral over. He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes focused on you.

“Yes, of course,” you stammer, fumbling for your phone as Jungkook lets out a soft yay at your acceptance of his request. Quickly, he recites his number and you type it in with trembling hands into the number pad, giving him a quick call so he can have your number as well.

You save him right away, just his name followed by the class you share with him. Not like you know any other Jeon Jungkooks, and if you did, you doubt anyone could ever leave such an impact like this Jeon Jungkook.

“__, look,” Jungkook calls, that same excitement lacing his already lovely voice, and you raise your head up at the screen again. He’s waving his phone over his camera, so you don’t get to see his face when he says, “It’s a little mouse emoji and a pink bow— just like Minnie!”

Dangerous for your heart and, most likely, the death of you this semester.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#mine

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hazwqste · 2 years

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Hi!!

I'm trying to draw for the past two months and I've mostly just looked up at yt tutorials etc, I got a basic face and hair and it's pretty impressive. But atm I'm just drawing some manga panels and the same prototypes for faces. Somehow i don't seem to get any creativity in terms of expressions or not being able to draw my favs looking at a reference:') ik it's a long process to get there but if you could give some tips

....hope this doesn't sound annoying😅

Thank you for your time. I love your art sm💖

omg ok so i've been thinking about this question ever since you've sent me.. i'm sorry it took so long but i didn't really know how to reply ;---; i'm awful with advice bc my process has been so long and i struggle with analyzing it.... anyway luckily i've stumbled upon this live with loish specifically about stylization and gotten some great insight about this, if you're interested i recommend you check it out she's an awesome character artist and has precious tips!!!

but basically i think it heavily depends on what you feel comfortable with and what works for you! to develop your own way of drawing, instead of fitting your notion of drawing into what someone else draws like, you should do some self reflection, identify your strengths and the things you have fun with and expand on them; what you lack will come around naturally with practice. specifically about facial expressions (and also other things), the main tip would be to use references to first get familiar with what you want to portray and then move away from them in your own way, in order for it to be stylized - be it studies from other ppls work or from real life. and then also to think of the context your character is in, how they feel, their personality, and finally how they would emote. for me drawing from life was essential because i'm a very anatomy oriented person, so getting the foundation of how faces work straight from the source helped me immensely! as a child i used to copy things straight from manga/comics/cartoons but i couldn't absorb much knowledge because i was simply placing the lines without understanding them, i was doing what i thought i was supposed to. i think drawing from pictures of irl people gives you a better feel for muscles movements, therefore you know how to better mold your lines into certain facial expressions and you build a mental library to choose from. on top of that, if i was stumped on how to draw something, i would study my favorite artists' styles and intently analyze how they solved the problem i was facing, adapting their technique to my own way of solving it. for example: an expression i have trouble with big time is smiles. if i were to push myself to get better at it (i should lol) i would look at artists that i think express that characteristic well and think abt how they make it work and why it works, taking that and applying it to my drawing.

a good exercise loish recommended in the live (i'm gonna try to incorporate it into my study routine) is to draw the same thing a few times, first from reference, then again from memory to see what sticks to your brain and how you interpret that on your own! finally, don't rush it! your process and progress is your own :^)

#sorry if this was long winded and confusing o(-<#not the best with words #but it was not annoying at all!! and thank youuuu <3 #ask #anon #long post

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diesukitsuki · 2 years

Text

CW : WIP/not finished, fluff, a little angst, Kaminari x Fem!Reader, not proofread

Synopsis: Denki’s lucky to have someone like you.

note: I don’t see myself finishing this fic ever so i’m just going to post it.. it was originally inspired by the song Cannibal Queen by The Miniature Tigers. (also towards the end it’s a little rushed bc i was just putting my thoughts down)

It’s crazy how you let someone like him be around you, touch you, kiss you, love you. A guy who always fell too fast and too hard, always breathing it in like it’s the real thing. Like it’s love.

From Kaminari’s adolescence to his adult years, he’s always been a flirt, always grabbing a chance to be with a cute girl. Always trying to find love in the most obvious and subtle places.

He has even made it a habit to tear through a woman’s chest by tearing through their clothes first. Unsuccessfully, having heart to hearts by having their naked chest against his. Attempting to get into their minds by being in them. Maybe it was his way of subconsciously showing that he was afraid of dying first before finding true love, always rushing to find it, always tripping when he turns the wrong path because he assumed something more.

He was a pro hero, after all. A dead man walking—if you want to think like his brain at three in the morning. He doesn’t have time for those slow winded luxuries.

He had to live life in the fast lane.

When he meets you, he realizes that you were so.. unlike him: An average civilian with an average paying job whose feet ached as she took off her shoes to plop onto the couch after a hard day’s work of standing around. Who sleeps off the conbini bento—that you bought from the conbini a block away from the one that you work at because it “tasted better”—after chowing down on every bit of it until you wake up for work again. Only living it up on your days off by scrolling through your phone or getting some groceries to make a proper meal that you’ve been aching to do. Tired of feeling shitty after you eat microwaveable bentos for most of your week.

It was the kind of domesticity that Kaminari wishes for before he met you. It was one that his high school would’ve groaned about. Thinking it was boring and too routine, and maybe it was, but there’s rarely a familiarity in the days that pass him nowadays. There’s always something different. Always something wrong.

When his salary deemed him good enough to have a raise, he bought his ‘above average’ apartment filled with furniture since he lacked any— a fact he came to find out at the end of his second year at UA. His apartment looked over the glittering city that held the white diamond lights of the towering buildings and kept the critter of cars on the tar road where it lit in golds and rubies as they honked at each other. It was like his own personal treasure. Telling him the richness of life he’d been reaching for was right there in front of him. That he made it.

It’s crazy this magical shit grows old and adulterated. within a year.

He rarely has time to take in the sight at night. Always needing to run to the agency to start his patrol, then coming home to find the pale light of the morning sun blanch his apartment. His ‘above average’ apartment is now cold and clean. He’s thankful that if it weren’t for the maid, it would be a fucking pig sty. But as thankful as he is, he can’t help but feel uncomfortable with how spotless it is. It wasn’t sterile enough to be a hospital and not warm enough to seem like someone’s living in it.

Despite living in his own apartment, he usually spends his day off at his mom’s house. He itches for that familiar cacophony and warmth whenever he’s there. Enjoying the way his mom scolds him for not eating enough, telling him he looks so skinny before planting a plate of hamburger steak in front of him, before she scurries off to cut some fruit for him. In the background, there’s always that shitty speaker bleeding some old drama coming from a clunky, grey television that’s been around since he was a kid. He insisted on buying a new TV for her, but she waves it away, telling him to save his money for something better.

It was relieving to feel the warmth of a simple life when he was at his mom’s. He’d listen to his mother go on and on about the neighbors. It was always a little neighborly drama outside of her house even though there’s always one playing inside of her house. Sometimes he’d tell her he’s hungry, just so he can watch her cook and hear that dingy stove fan roar above her as it sucked out all the smoke, then he’d take the homemade meal to his apartment. Hoping to relive that feeling in his cold dining room in the city.

That warmth dissipates as soon as walks out of his home in the cold of night, reassuring his mom that the cold night wouldn’t make him sick— even if it did make him shiver a bit. He kisses her cheek goodbye, and makes his way home. He holds his tepid meal close to his chest as he travels down the dark street, feeling the glare of the bleach white streetlight on his back as he returns to the dreadful train like he always does.

Like the view of his city, it gets old. The warmth that he once felt has simmered into a painful reminder of what he didn’t have. All the sense of familiarity is still there, but it has worn down, feeling like he’s looking at a exhibit. The kind of exhibit that felt empty and hallow despite the many people meandering around, admiring the artifacts showcased.

He enjoyed the presence of his mom, enjoyed her meals, enjoyed her care, enjoyed the talks, but he realizes that it’s something that he’ll only have temporarily. That the cold morgue of an apartment awaits him in the city, and it’s something he’ll always see at the end of the day. It hurts that it had tainted the joy of his nostalgia in his childhood home. It hurts that it feels like he’s being punished for feeling good.

It’s funny how his mom was right. She had warned him multiple times to take a scarf or some gloves to keep himself warm, or else he’d get sick.. And he did. His face was flushed with a cold while his nose dropped pathetically when he had entered his home. His mother slaps the back of the head, scolding him for not taking care of himself before scurrying off to make some herbal soup that had some ginger and other assortments that would make his body hot.

After drinking up some soup and taking some medicine, she wrapped him up in the blanket before shoving his phone in his face instructing him to call his work before telling him that he’s going to stay home— not at the apartment. He reluctantly agrees with a sigh and a soft smile.

You were dining at the Seven-Eleven a block away from the one worked at when he met you for the first time. He had snuck out of the house-- like he had done a thousand times when he was in middle school--to go to the Seven-Eleven to aid his craving for junk food with a courteous medical mask intact.

“Welcome!” The feminine automated voice chimes as the huff of the automatic doors open for him as he stepped in. He notices that you were sitting at the table.. must be having a break he thinks. He scans the convenient store, searching for a particular junk food. He picks up the basket, and slings it around the crook of his arm. When he's done, he goes over to the counter,, he waits for you , but you don't move. so he moves over to you.

You don’t look up from your phone, still chewing one the sides that came with your meal, when you feel someone behind you.

Your scrolling stops.

“Um, excuse me..” You turn around. Your face fixed with confusion.

His heart stops when he looks at you.

Wow, You’re pretty.

Really pretty.

“I’d like to get ringed up, and if you want, I’d like to ring you up too.”

There’s a pause.

“Sorry, Sir. I don’t work here.”

He feels himself flush even more with embarrassment, stacking onto his cold ridden body. He feels shy under your confused gaze.

#novah.wips #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #novah.writes #posting content bc #im tired and wont write for a little while #bnha x reader

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kookiesjoonies · 4 years

Text

rule breaker — jhs | part ten.

rule breaker | part ten: ramen & froyo.

a/n: this chapter is quite a few days late, but i literally had the worst case of writer’s block of my LIFE. i started this chapter, n then completely scrapped it. and i’m glad i did, bc the first draft was SHIT. LMAO. anyway, come talk to me abt hoseok n yn please. i want to hear your thoughts. especiallyyyy after this chapter! thank u all for reading! xo

main pairing: choreographer!hoseok x idol!reader

side ships: vmin, namkook

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, angst, wet dream (dunno if that qualifies as a warning, but uhhh just in case lmaodskjd), masturbation, squirting

— SERIES SUMMARY

your career as an idol comes first, end of discussion. and to make sure that you stay on track, you implement two foolproof rules to abide by:

rule #1: no distractions. rule #2: no mixing business with pleasure.

and those rules seem simple enough to follow. that is, until you develop a crush on your new choreographer.

Dance practice was over and you felt like you’d just run a marathon. No, wait, scratch that. You felt like you’d run five marathons. Dancing with Hoseok was no joke. He always pushed you to work harder, to do better. And any time you were convinced you couldn’t perfect a move, he’d encourage you and offer you a thousand reasons as to why you could.

Both of you were drenched in sweat. Your grey crop top soaked and dark in certain areas, perhaps revealing a bit too much of what was underneath. Hoseok’s hair was sticky and wet against his forehead, and he’d pushed it back since practice ended.

You’d have been stupid to ignore just how attractive such a simple gesture made him look. Still, you tried your hardest to push such thoughts out of your mind. You shouldn’t be thinking of him in such a way. But you blamed it on the sensual dance routine that you’d just completed with him.

Jimin was just supposed to be late to practice, but he ended up having to skip it all together. Which meant that every single sexy move you were supposed to do with your best friend, you’d done with Hoseok instead.

At first, it was awkward. You didn’t know where to put your hands, and he was hesitant to put his on your body as well. Eventually though, the two of you relaxed into one another. The feeling of his fingertips on the bare skin of your hips was exhilarating, as well as the feeling of his length being pressed against your ass while you pushed back against him.

The way that he watched you in the mirror, the way way his pupils had clearly dilated, sent immediate relief washing over you. You weren’t the only one affected by the routine the two of you were performing. But at the end of the day, it was just that. A performance.

And that’s what you’d keep telling yourself, even if deep down, you didn’t believe it even for a second.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Hoseok began, lifting the bottom of his muscle tank top up to his face to wipe the beads of sweat trickling down, “but I worked up quite the appetite.”

Your eyes shot down to admire his perfectly sculpted abs that were practically begging for your touch, your tongue poking out to wet your lips at the delicious sight.

“Y/n?” Hoseok was speaking again, this time albeit a little louder, which snapped you out of your trance.

Embarrassed, your neck straightened up so that you could now look at the man towering above you face to face. And you willed your cheeks not to turn red, hoping and praying that he didn’t catch you checking him out.

“Huh?” That was all you could muster up, unsure of what he’d even said to begin with.

To your surprise, he offered you a chuckle in response.

“I said I was hungry. You want to go grab lunch?”

The two of you’d never hung out outside of the studio before, so you were a little taken aback by his suggestion.

He could sense your hesitation, and he stuttered as he tried to play it off nonchalantly.

“Or, uhm— we don’t—, we don’t have to. I just figured—“

You cut him off, a small smile creeping it’s way onto your face. He really was adorable when he rambled.

“Hobi, we can get lunch. I just wish I didn’t have to go out in public looking so gross.” You were half joking, half serious.

Your hair felt greasy, you weren’t wearing any makeup, and your athletic clothes were sweaty and sticky. So, you were definitely not fit to be seen in public at the moment.

“You don’t look gross.” Hoseok was quick to reassure you, matching your smile with a wide one of his own.

“No?” You asked, wanting him to compliment you one more time. Even though, you weren’t sure why you wanted him to do so so badly.

“Nope!” he shook his head, “you look like you’ve been working hard.”

You internally groaned. Not exactly the kind of compliment you were hoping for, but it would do, you supposed.

“In that case, did you have a place in mind for lunch? Or..?”

“There’s this place down the street that has the best cooked ramen!” you found it adorable, the way he was so enthusiastic even while talking about food, “Is that okay? I mean— do, uhm— do you like ramen?”

A tiny giggle left your mouth before you could stop it, and you offered him a quick nod of your head.

“I love ramen.”

“Great!” he grinned, “let’s go then!”

Turns out, Hoseok was right. This place did have the best ramen. You were sure you could slurp up at least ten bowls of it.

Your choreographer was sitting across from you at the small round table. The place was quaint, small, and yet surprisingly busy. Various K-Pop songs boomed through the speakers overhead, and the hustle and bustle of the restaurant workers never seemed to cease. The sound of the other diners mumbling bounced off of the walls, and the aroma of the foods being cooked in the kitchen were to die for.

“So,” Hoseok spoke up after practically inhaling a few bites of his ramen, “do you like the place?”

You didn’t hesitate in answering, “Yes! I can’t believe it’s been so close to the studio for so long and I never knew about it.”

“You’re welcome.” He winked at you, a playful gesture that for some reason, had your heart doing flips in your chest.

You gathered a small bunch of noodles with your chopsticks, bringing them up to shove the food into your mouth.

“Aren’t you nervous people will recognize you?” Hoseok questioned, taking a sip of the soda that was sitting beside of his bowl.

You shrugged, chewing and swallowing the bite you’d just taken before answering him.

“It’s just part of the gig, you know?”

“No,” he admitted, “I don’t know. How do you do it? How do you deal with people constantly invading your privacy?”

“It’s not easy,” you answered honestly, “but I’ve been doing it for almost six years now, so. I’d like to think I’ve gotten used to it.”

“You handle it well. The way you carry yourself, even with all of the pressure you’re under, it’s admirable. And the fact that you’re so— so kind, so down to earth, even with the millions of fans you have.. it’s amazing, really.”

His series of seemingly never ending compliments were successful in creating flutters in your stomach. You were sure your cheeks and the tips of your ears were tinted pink, and your spine tingled as you happily took in every single one of his words.

“Hobi,” you couldn’t hide the grin that was now plastered across your face, “you’re too sweet.”

This time, it was Hoseok’s turn to blush. You’d said something so simple, yet it had the apples of his cheeks tinged red. He’d hoped you hadn’t noticed. But you did, which only made you want to continue your compliments further. If it meant seeing him like that, all flustered and shy, you’d compliment him twenty four hours, seven days a week.

Even if, technically, you shouldn’t be trying to make him blush. But at that exact moment, you couldn’t be bothered to give a single fuck.

“I mean it,” you continued, swirling the few remaining noodles around in the bowl below you, “you’re so kind to me, always. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

He glanced away from you then, turning his attention to watch the waiters walk in and out of the kitchen. You didn’t miss the dark shade of red that had taken over his entire face. And yeah, you found it undeniably adorable.

Before you could say anything else to him, a familiar sounding song blared from the sound system above you. You couldn’t help but to laugh, shaking your head as you listened to the low beat of take me.

Hoseok faced you again, a smirk present as his ears perked up to listen.

“Hey, that sounds kind of familiar.”

“Never heard this song before in my life.”

You kept a straight face, for the most part. But Hoseok didn’t miss the glimmer of playfulness in your eyes.

“Ahh,” he decided to play along, finishing up the last few bites of his meal, “a shame you haven’t heard it. The artist who sings it, she’s truly something special. Insanely talented, an incredible dancer.”

“Maybe she’s just an ‘incredible dancer’ because she has such a good teacher.”

“Nope!” he was quick to shut you down, “she’s talented because she’s hardworking and she never settles for anything but the best.”

If you didn’t know better, you could’ve sworn he was flirting with you. And maybe he was. Or, maybe you just wanted him to be? But then, why did you want him to be? Your brain was scrambled, too many thoughts running a million miles a minute.

The sound of footsteps approaching your table pulled you out of your own head, and standing before you was a tall, lean yet muscular man with dark hair. He had a freckle just under his bottom lip, which you were quick to note was quite cute. You assumed he was a fan, but as soon as he addressed the man sitting in front of you as Hobi, you quickly realized he was here for him and not you.

“Here’s that movie you wanted to borrow.” The younger boy handed a disk over to his friend, and you watched the exchange curiously.

“Ahhh! Thank you, Jungkookie! I’ve been wanting to see this for ages!” Hoseok quickly stuffed the film into his bag at his feet.

“Hmm,” you observed, tapping your manicured nails on the top of the table, “Jungkook, I presume?”

He seemed shock at the mention of his name. Or rather, at the sound of familiarity laced in your tone.

“Uhm, yeah..?” he cocked an eyebrow, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your attention turned to Hoseok, and you pointed a finger at Jungkook.

“Is he the one who thinks I’m a diva?”

Hoseok had a mouthful of soda, and damn near did a spit take at your obvious call out.

“You told her?!” Jungkook slapped his hyung’s shoulder, and you watched as Hoseok soothed the abused spot with his hand.

“It just slipped!” The older male was quick to defend himself, and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the whole ordeal.

“Guys,” you said, “it’s fine! Jungkook, I’m sorry that you think I’m a diva. I’d like to think I’m not, but your own opinions can’t be helped.”

“She is not a diva, I promise. She’s anything but.”

You couldn’t help but to smile wide at the sound of Hoseok defending your name.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Ahhh, I shouldn’t be so quick to judge, or to assume. I don’t even know you. I apologize.”

He bowed in front of you, and you waved him off.

“I promise, it’s fine,” you assured him, “I accept your apology. Any friend of Hoseok’s is a friend of mine.”

He sighed, relieved.

“In that case, could you get Jimin’s autograph for me? I’m like, his biggest fan.”

Hoseok groaned before bringing the palm of his hand up and dragging it down his face. You just laughed, nodding your head once in response.

“I’ll see what I can do. You should come by the studio with Hobi sometime, you’ll probably run into Jimin there.”

“Really?!” He lit up like a kid in a candy store, and it seemed as though his older friend had had enough.

“Okay!” Hoseok said, shooing Jungkook away from the table, “You’ve fulfilled your purpose of dropping off the movie. Thank you!”

“Awww, but hyung!” Jungkook pouted, “I was hoping I could join the two of you, and you know, tell her a secret of yours since you told her one of mine.”

You perked up in your seat, gaze shifting to Hoseok as you eyed him curiously.

“What secret?” You asked, hearing Jungkook snicker to your side.

“Ignore him.” Hoseok groaned.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave,” Jungkook held his hands up in front of him in defeat, “but you should tell her, is all I’m saying.”

“Tell me what?” You asked, intrigued and confused all at the same time.

Hoseok shook his head.

“Nothing, he’s just an idiot,” he insisted, laughing the entire situation off, “we should uhm— grab froyo after this, if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“Ugh, the key to my heart.”

He smiled at your immediate acceptance, flagging your waiter down and digging in his pocket for his wallet.

You did the same, unzipping your purse to retrieve your credit card.

“No, no, Y/n. I got it! My treat.”

“Hoseok, I can’t let you—“

Before you could argue further, the waiter was walking away with Hoseok’s money. He was unbelievable.

He paid for froyo, too. Despite your arguing.

The two of you were walking along the river, enjoying your cups of frozen treats. It was spring, nearly summer, so the weather was just right. The sun was shining beautifully on the water beside you, not a cloud to be found in the sky. It truly was a beautiful day.

“It doesn’t shock me that your favorite color is yellow.” You started, dipping your spoon into your birthday cake flavored yogurt.

“Why not?” Hoseok retorted, bringing a spoonful of his own dessert up and to his lips.

“Because it’s a bright, happy color. And you are a bright, happy person.”

He flashed you that big, toothy grin that you’d grown to adore so much.

“Alright then, what’s your favorite color?”

“Red.” You answered without hesitation.

He shook his head, quiet laughter exuding from his throat.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, “red just matches your personality perfectly.”

You cocked a brow, licking a bite of froyo from the spoon.

“How do you figure?”

“You’re full of fire, full of passion. A force to be reckoned with, you go head first into everything that you do and you don’t stop until you’ve achieved your goal.”

“You got all of that from the color red?”

“Mhm.” He just nodded at you, his smile never once faltering. Your damn heart was doing the flipping thing again and you feared it would leap right out of your chest if he looked at you like that for a second longer.

“Okay,” you said, dipping your spoon into the bowl, “you have to try this. It’s so good.”

You lifted the plastic utensil up to his mouth, and he only hesitated for a moment for allowing the sensation of birthday cake flavor to flood his taste buds. His eyes lit up, and his tone was enthusiastic.

“Mmm! That is good! I’m not usually a giant fan of cake flavored things, but I’d eat that.”

You fake gasped, bringing your free hand over your chest.

“How dare you! Birthday cake is the best flavor!”

“Pffft, no way!” he was quick to shut you down, gulping down another bite of his own treat, “brownie batter is. Here, you try.”

He was bringing his spoon up to your lips in an instant, and you poked your tongue out to give it a test lick. Usually, chocolate flavored ice cream wasn’t your favorite. But this was incredible.

“Aww, man! I like yours better!” You pouted, and Hoseok’s heart sank at the sight.

He knew you were being playful, but still, he couldn’t help himself.

“Here,” he held out his bowl to you, “we can trade.”

You shook your head, refusing the gesture, “I can’t take your food!”

“Yes you can! Please, for me. I want you to enjoy this.” His voice was kind, sincere. How could you say no to that?

“Only if you’re sure.” You said, hesitantly switching your bowl out for his.

“I’m sure.” He smiled at you again, and you felt like you’d been grounded down to the earth once and for all.

You didn’t make it home until the sun was about to set. Having too much fun with Hobi, you decided you could afford to stay out for a bit. He really was wonderful company, he seemed to make even the simplest of things fun. You’d hoped you’d get to hang out with him like that again in the future, the near future, to be exact. It was different than when the two of you were in the studio.

There, you were working. But today, you were out having lunch and enjoying spending casual time together. It felt like it went on forever, yet not nearly as long as you hoped it would last all at the same time.

However, you were happy to finally be in the comfort of your own home. Practice had kicked your ass today, and you were exhausted, grimy, and in desperate need of a shower and a nap.

Taehyung wasn’t home either, so you were home alone and excited by that fact. Very rarely did you ever have time to yourself and yourself alone. Except, you weren’t alone. And you didn’t know that until you walked into your master bedroom and saw Jimin sprawled out on your bed.

He nearly gave you a damn heart attack, had you shrieking like a banshee and clutching your chest.

“Jimin! What the fuck?!”

“It’s your fault for giving me a key.” He was flipping through a magazine, unfazed as ever.

“You could’ve texted me and told me you were coming over!” You scolded, and he just grinned.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Liar.”

You walked further into your room as you rolled your eyes, picking up a pillow and tossing it forcefully at his head.

“Hey!” He whined.

“Why did you show up here unannounced?” You questioned, lying down beside of him on your king sized bed.

“Wanted to see how practice went.” He turned the page, and you peered over his shoulder to see what he was reading. Of course it was a fashion magazine.

“Fine.” You answered simply, and your best friend was shutting the catalog instantly.

“Damn, one syllable is all I get? Must’ve been better than I thought.” His smile was mischievous, and you had half a mind to smack it right off of his face.

“We danced. I learned the routine, and you did not. Which means you’ll have to work extra hard trying to catch up tomorrow.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what you were trying to do.

“Dude, shut up. You know I could learn it in my sleep, and you also know the ‘routine’ isn’t what I’m asking about.”

“Jimin,” you groaned, “don’t start.”

“Was it hot? Did you get off on grinding on Hoseok?” He wiggled his brows, and you flicked his nose with your thumb and middle finger.

“Ow!” He cried out, bringing a hand up to rub over the sore spot you’d just created.

“Don’t ask stupid shit like that.”

“Come on, Y/n. It’s me. You can talk to me about this shit.” He tried to convince you, and somewhere inside of you, you wanted to.

Because yeah, maybe you did get aroused from Hoseok’s hands on your ass. And maybe you did get a little wet when you were grinding against his thigh.

But who wouldn’t have? He was a fairly attractive man, after all. It didn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“I’m going to take a shower.” You quickly changed the subject, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

Jimin couldn’t help but to roll his eyes.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

“I know. Are you spending the night?”

You heard him sigh, a sad sigh that made your heart clench.

“I would, but... I don’t want to make Tae uncomfortable.”

“I get it. But you’re welcome to stay, you know that. This house is plenty big enough, and we always hang out in my room anyways.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve already pissed him off, or whatever. I’m sure me staying here would just add to that.”

You frowned, wishing that you could do something, or say anything to ease his obvious hurt.

“I love you, Chim.”

“Love you.”

Normally, you’d stay up until at least midnight. Tonight, however, you were exceptionally exhausted and were lying in bed by nine.

Your satin sheets felt extra comfortable underneath you, and your eyelids were heavy. Friends played on the big, wall mounted television in front of you, and the sound of your air conditioner running was lulling you right to sleep. Before you knew it, you were slipping into a state of blissful unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how you’d ended up in Hoseok’s apartment. And you definitely weren’t sure how you’d ended up nearly naked underneath him on his couch. You were squirming below his touch, his blunt fingernails lightly scraping down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

His hips were rutting into yours, Hoseok’s hardened length rubbing along your soaked, clothed core. You were a moaning mess, slews of curses and praises spilled out of your mouth, letting him know that you were fucking loving everything that he was giving you.

“Hoseok, please don’t stop.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as you clutched onto his back in an attempt to keep yourself grounded. You felt like you were floating, like you were in a completely different time and place.

“God, I’ve waited so long for this,” he was growling lowly into your ear, his fingers descending south and flicking the thin strap of your thong against your hip, “waited so long for you.”

You yelped at the feeling of the string stinging your skin, your shriek turning into a whiny moan as you felt his hand begin to slip into your panties. You couldn’t wait for him to finally be where you needed him most. You didn’t care if his fingers were inside of you, his tongue, or his cock. You just needed some part of him filling you up. You needed it in the same way that you needed oxygen to survive, and you feared that you would die if he didn’t touch you right here, right now.

His head was hovering above yours now, and you were sure he was about to lean in for a kiss. Which had your pussy clenching around nothing. It had just occurred to you that you’d never kissed him, and all you wanted was to taste him. You were sure he’d taste delicious, sickeningly sweet.

Instead of his lips pressing against yours, though, they parted. And he began repeating your first name over and over again like a mantra, gradually getting louder and louder as the seconds ticked by.

One final yell of your name had your eyelids shooting open, the sound of Hoseok’s voice being replaced by the low tone of your brother’s. You blinked once, and then two more times for good measure. It took you a whole minute to realize that you were at home. In your bedroom, not in your choreographer’s apartment.

“Tae?” your voice was groggy, “what time is it?”

“Past ten. I could hear you from down the hall, it sounded like you were in pain so I came to check on you,” he said, cocking his head to the side as he stared down at you, “must’ve been one hell of a nightmare.”

Embarrassment immediately came over you, and you were thankful for the dark lighting of the room because you were sure your face was similar to the color of a tomato.

“Yeah— uh, just a... bad dream. I’m good.”

“If you’re sure.” His voice was laced with genuine concern, and you almost laughed. Such a protective older brother.

“I’m good, Tae. Swear.”

He nodded, mumbling a goodnight to you before turning to leave your bedroom.

You called out to him before he could shut the door.

“Hey, wait a second!”

“Yeah?” He was confused again, and you worried your lower lip before you spoke.

You weren’t usually one to meddle in his personal life, but this time, you felt like you had to. Or, that you at least had to try.

“You need to talk to Jimin. He thinks he made you upset, or mad. At the very least, you should tell him you aren’t angry with him.”

“Noted.”

That was all he said before he was shutting your door, and you couldn’t stop the dramatic roll of your eyes. Typical Taehyung.

You pushed your hair back and out of your face, grimacing as you felt the beads of sweat pooling on your forehead. In your half asleep state, you’d almost forgotten what you’d been dreaming about. You let out a groan as the images flashed through your memory.

Not only were you dreaming about Hoseok, but it was a wet dream. Surely, you hadn’t actually gotten aroused by it.

You bit down on your bottom lip before sliding your hand underneath your duvet, pressing your fingers against your underwear to test for any dampness. You gasped as you were greeted with soaked panties, hissing through your teeth as your fingertips barely grazed over your clit.

Before you really knew what you were doing, your hips were bucking up and into your hand. You pushed the cotton fabric to the side, letting your middle finger drag along your slick folds. You sighed at the feeling, your head tilting back as your eyes screwed shut. It was almost unbelievable how drenched you were just from a fucking dream. And a dream about your fucking choreographer, to beat it all.

You moaned at the images of Hoseok during practice earlier flooded your mind. He was so hot, and so sweaty. The way his fingers curled around your thighs had you wondering what it would feel like if he was the one touching you right now instead of yourself.

Maybe it was wrong, but you didn’t care. You kept yourself focused on Hoseok as you used your middle finger to circle around your throbbing bundle of nerves, whines and praises of his name slipping out of your mouth.

You dipped a finger down to tease your slit, imagining the entire time that it was him. You slipped a single digit into your heat and keened at the sensation. Hoseok’s fingers were much longer than yours, and you were sure he could have you cumming with them in no time.

Still, you decided to work with what you had and began to fuck into yourself until you were knuckle deep. You added a second finger and moaned at the stretch, your thighs beginning to shake already.

“Fuck, Hoseok!”

You picked up the pace of your fingers, curling once you found that spot that drove you absolutely mad. Using your free hand, you allowed your index and middle fingers to vigorously rub at your clit.

It was too much, too soon. Your walls contracted around your fingers, and your legs convulsed. Your thighs were trying to squeeze together and you were arching off the bed as you felt your lower stomach knot up, fire spreading from head to toe and making your toes curl.

Your orgasm hit so hard that you were practically screaming, Hoseok’s name being the only word left in your vocabulary. This was harder than any orgasm you’d had in a long time, and you could feel your juices squirting out and all over your hand and wrist. You squealed at the feeling, using your fingers to fuck yourself through your high.

Your breathing was erratic, and stars were circling above your head. You groaned as you pulled your hands away from your cunt, wincing at the emptiness.

An arm rested over your eyes as you attempted to stop panting. Slowly, you felt like you were back on earth again and the black dots you were seeing went away.

There was no fucking way that just happened. You did not get off while thinking of Hoseok.

You were furious. And you wished that you were mad at yourself, but the only reason you were angry was because you’d had to get yourself off. You wished it would’ve been him doing it instead.

Against your better judgement, you grabbed your phone off of your nightstand. It was eleven now, and although Hoseok was sure to be asleep, you needed to hear his voice. For what reason? You weren’t sure. Either way, you were scrolling through your contacts to find his name, pressing the call button with a bit too much enthusiasm.

When he answered the phone, his voice was raspy, deeper than usual. You were right, he’d been asleep.

“Hello?”

“Uhm, hi.” You said, voice shy and almost inaudible.

“Y/n? What time is it? Is everything okay?” He sounded worried.

“I’m okay! Uhh, it’s past eleven. I’m sorry for waking you, I didn’t mean to.”

Yes you did.

He was beginning to sound a bit more awake now, and you heard him yawn on the other line.

“It’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting you to call. Or, call this late.”

“Yeah..”

It was silent for a few seconds, neither of you knowing quite what to say. You couldn’t exactly tell him that you’d just made yourself squirt to the thought of him. And he wasn’t about to tell you that he was glad you called.

“What are you doing up?”

“Uhm—“ you stumbled, trying to come up with any excuse other than the truth, “I couldn’t sleep.”

You heard him chuckle, and it was as if all of your worries and nervousness evaporated at the sound of his laughter.

“Not that I’m not flattered, but.. why did you call me because you couldn’t sleep?”

You groaned internally. Why did he have to ask such questions?

“I just... I don’t know. I wanted to talk to you, is all, I guess.”

“Okay.” He seemed satisfied with your answer, and you sighed in relief.

“Hobi?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you FaceTime me until I fall asleep?”

As badly as you longed to see him in person, you figured that this would do for now.

“Absolutely.”

He was calling you instantly, and you smiled as soon as you laid eyes on him. His hair was disheveled from sleeping, and his cheeks were a bit puffy. Suddenly, the other side of your bed felt a bit too empty. And you wondered what it would feel like if he were laying beside of you.

↼ masterlist ⇀

a/n: if you’d like to be added to the tag list, just send me an ask, message, or reply to this post! let me know what you think of the series, i love hearing your feedback. enjoy! xo

tag list: @ppersonna @neouihobi @vanteatj1n @55west81st @jjiminah @cesthoney @vaehyungsworld @ggukiyo @devotedlywriting @consensual-trashtalk @w1tchcraftt @threedecadesofawkward @chocobetterknot @americano-sprite @yoongisabby @hobi-love @justpeachyjoon @excuseme-youpretty @sunkissed725 @amoreguk @koostime @cobbiebaexqueen @imluckybitches @taefect94 @parkmaeri @bts-7-forever @gukniverse @untainted-memories

a/n: tumblr won’t let me tag certain people for whatever reason. so if you’ve asked to be tagged and don’t see your name, that’s why! i apologize. :/

#hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #bts #bts smut #bangtan #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #bts imagine #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #bts fake social media #bts texts #bts fake texts #bts smau #jhope #bts reactions

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soooldout · 4 years

Text

201027 Sungyeol is Back Vlive with Sunggyu

He started the show with a military style greeting, and then continued with 'hello everyone, I'm Infinite's Sungyeol!'

He said that it was awkward for him to host the show alone, so he invited a special guest…Infinite's Sunggyu!

SG: *greets*

SY: whoaaa an idol an idol

He said that it was awkward when he was in the military, when he and his military fellows watched TV together and saw Sunggyu wishing the Infinite members who were in the military strength “I saw someone who I usually saw on a daily basis on TV! I didn't know what to feel. You knew how we feel and yet you said something like that jokingly”

SG: I really meant to give you strength though, not to tease you!

SG: How do you feel now

Sungyeol said he got discharged from military and society in general was awkward for him …he's still trying to get used to being a part of society (and not 'isolated' when he's in the military) He was doing whatever he was told and now after so long he can do whatever he wants

SG: Do you want me to order you around then? (afkljdsg;h)

Sungyeol said that he regretted that he didn’t follow Sunggyu when he enlisted. He thought that it would’ve been much better to go through the hardship with Sunggyu by his side

Sunggyu said he had recommended to all members to go enlist together but either Woohyun/Sungyeol said "Hyung, just go first~ we'll go later"

They argued a bit about the above and Sungyeol said, you want us to fight in front of the fans?

More bickering: They almost missed the vlive today coz Sungyeol was late to go to the hair salon, yeol is saying he ordered food and went to change and when he came back to the food he only found half of it…Sunggyu ate it and didn’t wait for him jaslkf;gs

Q: What is something you wanted to tell fans as soon as you get discharged?

SY: The fact that I cried..I found a side of me that I didn’t even know existed

Sungyeol said that he earned 7 minutes of phonecall after going through training for a month, and he called Sunggyu, his mom, CEO but no one picked up because it was an unknown number. He cried as he missed everyone so much. "I didn’t know that I was that much of a crybaby until then”

Sunggyu cried once, Woohyun cried a lot after enlisting too :(

Sunggyu’s finishing up the last performances of Kinky Boots and prepping for online concert.

They asked when is Halloween is then Sungyeol said Daeyeol asked him if it's ok for him to cosplay as Sungyeol for Halloween. Gyuyeol then said then Sungyeol can cosplay as Daeyeol for halloween, and sungyeol/'daeyeol' can 'join' golden child lmao

Q: 10 years ago after military you said you wanted to try trot, do you still have that thought now?

Sungyeol said he had that thought but the ceo turned it down. Sunggyu added that the ceo had his best interest in mind as trot may not be the best for his image. Sungyeol said he was ahead of his time because trot is the trend nowadays. Sunggyu agreed.

SY: if there's a chance I still wanna try (…….let him do what he wants please you haven’t learned your lesson yet ljy its been 10 yrs….)

Q: when did you miss your family the most?

SY: the moment I went in I missed everyone. not just my family.

SG: when did you miss/think of Sunggyu the most?

SY: The first day I was in the military!

He said pretty much every time Sunggyu did something, he thought 'did Sunggyu-hyung do this? did Sunggyu-hyung do that?'

Q: when in the military, when did you feel 'ah I’m part of Infinite'?

SY: basically said as soon as I entered. During the basic military training ceremony they even played Infinite songs, and everyone who saw me would do the naekkohaja gesture

Q: It would be good if you could do a solo fanmeet/album, when will that be?

SY: I would like that too, but I just finished military service (Sunggyu shot him saying that he could have started planning for this when he's still enlisted lmao and that he can do an online concert now)

Before enlisting Sungyeol said he'll try to be active on social media more frequently/longer, but he said he doesn’t know how to do it for a long time? Someone suggested in the comments to learn from Woohyun (yes please)

Sungyeol and Sungjong (or Woohyun? Not sure there are different translations for this part) lived in the same building. Sungyeol said Sungjong is so talkative these days, and he’s bored. He talked about how Sungjong suddenly came over to his place with coffee for him, ever since that day he's been going over to Sungyeol's place for meals almost everyday

Now that Sungyeol is discharged he was visiting his family and settling his own stuff. One day Sungjong asked him what he's doing, and that day Sungyeol happened to plan to visit his grandparents and sungjong went “OH REALLY? I WANNA GO TOO!”

Sungyeol thought, ok there's a familiar visitor his family would be glad to see him too. Turns out Sungjong was busily chatting nonstop during the entire 3 hour journey down (this is the cutest thing ever please)

Sungyeol is thankful that Sunggyu talked him out of enlisting in the navy

Q: did you count down to your discharge date?

SY: for these kind of things, time goes faster when you don’t keep thinking about it!

He also said that there were times even he doesn’t remember how many days he has left but when he searched his name you could see the "d-XXX" too

SG: Dongwoo’s discharge is on the 15th the same day as my online concert

SY: then we can do this together

SG: why me

SY: are you not Infinite?

SG: I am Infinite. I am Infinite’s leader!

SY: Then why don’t you want to do it

SG: Why are you making the decision alone!

gyuyeol just did a brief explanation/disclaimer that they may sound like they're quarrelling but it's basically just excited conversations because they haven’t hung out like this for a while 😊

SG: What does MBTI stand for?

SY: Mental Brain Tie/Tee Eye (lmaoo)

Sungyeol said he will do the test sometime.

*Sungyeol talking, Sunggyu reaches over to get food*

SY: excuse me I'm talking and you're eating??????

SG: Everyone we almost couldn’t make it for the live because Sungyeol was late! he left the shop at 6:30 and our live's at 7! He was eating too!

SY: I WAS NOT LATE that was my first meal! –

SY: and it’s been so long since I got to meet the fans so I wanted to do my hair nicely. And I didn’t even finish my food

Question about mint chocolate

Sungyeol doesn’t eat sweet stuff - chocolate/mint chocolate, cream etc. (for health reasons apparently)

Sungyeol talked about how well Sunggyu did in Kinky Boots

Q: to Sungyeol, musical <Return> is?

SY: a place where I can meet Sunggyu and it was an adventure for me and I met fans through it too

sg promoting <The Day> (his online concert) then said Sungyeol said he's gonna be present too so let's see whether he'll keep his promise

SY: of course. What shall we do when I’m there?

SG: ...let's have a meal?!?! (ok…lmao)

someone mentioned 'tell me 1st promise'

SY: do you remember?

SG: no. you're the one who said it

SY: ah was it the choochoo (train) one?

SG: you can do it (since you're the one who proposed it)

There was some chaos at this point with Sungyeol talking over him and Sunggyu said ‘ok Noisy’ kjlsgf;hgdkk

The following story was mentioned in the 10th anniversary live with Kim bros as well lmao he really won’t let this go:

There was a time when they went to a beach in Thailand and Sunggyu didn’t wanna go into the water because his condition was not good and he didn’t like water etc and Namu and Yeol went up and asked if he wanna go in but he said no. Namu left him alone but then Yeol went something like "LOL YEAH RIGHT" and threw Sunggyu into the water. And he lost his ring so he got really mad.

SG: I told you not to do it!

SY: You always say ‘no’…I thought you were lying and I was young and just wanted to do it

SG: Next time just listen to me

Q: What do you think about doing an exercising broadcast

SG: Yes, can you show your six pack…

SY: No, not to that extent

Q: what was the reason you became obsessed with working out?

SY: there wasn’t really a reason, simply because I did it regularly. e.g. regularly working out for a period of time then stopping, ~6 months later I was regularly working out again so I thought I might as well just make it a regular thing

SG: but what made you start?

*more bickering*

SY: it’s because you told me I have small shoulders

SY: Wow all we have done for an hour is fight

They talked about younger idols covering their songs and how amazed they were. They said thank you to everyone 💛

Q: Any fun incident from the military?

SG: The military is not fun as you guys think

SY: When I enlisted, the leader told the other soldiers not to pay attention to Sungyeol (As he is an idol and to not bother him) but that made him feel kind of lonely (aww)

Q: choose between going back to the military again or trainee days again?

SY: Wow. this is like asking to choose dad or mom

He chose trainee because he did his military really well so if he were to do it again he doesn’t know if he can do it as well as the first time. but he has lots of 'I could’ve done it better' moments during his trainee days so he'd rather do trainee period again and this time do it better

He said that when they were trainees, they were laying down on a rooftop watching the sky and saw fireworks. Apparently, there was Dream Concert happening nearby. He wondered if they would be able to perform at Dream Concert too someday (TT)

Q: Was there anything different about what you heard about the military and when you're actually there?

SY: the fact that I have to take care of myself more

Q: the thing you wanted to do the most in the military

SY said having a different exercise routine (bc you do the same thing everyday in military? idk)

sg: to Sungyeol, what is exercising?

SY: Something I have to do everyday

He said gyu turned him into a sinner on broadcast by saying that Sungyeol forced him to exercise (lmaooo)

Sungyeol's 'to-do' list:

- MBTI

- tell me 'choo-choo' win promise (YES FINALLY ITS BEEN 2.5 YRS)

- go on a trip

- do a dance from his musical audition

Sungyeol said when Sunggyu's enlistment had less than 100 days left, Sungyeol put some distance from Sunggyu because he was afraid if he was too close with gyu till he finished his military then he'd feel lonely when gyu discharged.

Then Sunggyu said "oh you're weaker than I expected"

SY to SG: I wasn’t like you who had the thought of ‘when else will I be able to eat this much?’ In the military, I always kept in mind to manage myself, how to look even better when I get discharged

SG: but.. you ate chicken with mee?? (haha cuute)

SG: *reads out a question about Yeol performing as Freddie Mercury*

SY: *drinking water* *chokes* Someone took a video of that???

SG: Sungyeol prepared so hard for that performance when he doesn’t prepare that hard for our concerts..

Sungyeol wanted to do the men's health magazine photoshoot too he's sad he wasn't given that opportunity. (you can do it now…do everything now while Sunggyu has power)

Comment about how good he looks in his military uniform, and Sungyeol said, yes I know

Q: When do you miss the members most

SY: I saw Sunggyu and Woohyun quite a bit…the thing I miss most is the end of year fanmeeting and doing the New Year countdown together

They showed the cake that said ‘Let’s protect Inspirits now instead of the country’ and Sunggyu said to cheer for Sungyeol a lot

💛💛💛

Translations from yeolsprout, Lusneverland, naggyu, hoslastjuliet, jibeomiejjang on Twitter

#I love seven boys #so much #very long post but very worth it <3 #sunggyu #sungyeol #infinite #translations #sungyeol is back #gyuyeol

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spacegaywritings · 3 years

Text

Little Tales (An age regression series) - Story 4: Stories

General Audience

Little!Patton

Summary: Patton felt the fuzzy feeling his whole day and now it is time to give in to his coping mechanism and prepare some nice things.

Tags: nostalgia mention, food, eating, snuggles, cuddles, self-care, babyspeak babytalk!, also I write like a smol at points, mom/grandmom mention, pasta, story, cartoons, hugs, blankets, comfort, Eurus the uwu snatcher!,neo pronouns, nb rep,

Please be mindful to not tag/ add any ships or shipping content - this is age regression and there are no relationships of any kind happening. Please respect that. Also don’t add any NSFW comments to this work. I appreciate this.

My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Note: If you miss any tags, have issues with links or any other concerns, please feel free to contact me. Anon is on and my DMs are open.♥ Links broken? Inform me, please!

Previous parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // ao3 1 // ao3 2 // ao3 3 // ao3 overview // story on ao3 4 // masterlist.

Story under the cut - Word count: ~2.7k

Patton snuggled up into his bed. It was time for a seriously calm time.

In the background, his TV was running. It was a baking show with little kids and Patton smiled just hearing it. They had pretty things to bake with!

But he had used pretty things today and he had made special choccy cookies for himself. They had extra choccy because he really liked them.

Patton snuggled up, hugging his favourite blanket. It had little cats and dogs on them and they snuggled and made him really happy! He smiled and cuddled the bundle of blanket in his arms. Another blanket was over him, covering him with its thin and rather cool fabric. It was patchwork and pink and had lotsa flowers on them. He had made it himself over a looooong amount of time.

He smiled, satisfied with himself and brushed over his happy blanket.

His soft blanket in his hands and his light blanket on his body had him snuggle up happily and just retreat into his pile of pillows. It was his soft happy place and he couldn’t feel better.

Well.. except he could because he had made himself happy tiny noods! His noods were perfect bc they were cut tiny for himself and they had nostalgia in them. He had made them like his granny and mommy used to make them for him when he was a kid.

He pulled his bowl of pasta close to his chest and hugged it along with his little blanket. He had tiny cutlery ready. It was made of wood and for small hands and small people and he was more than happy to use it. Seeing the tiny pieces of kitchenware had him go all soft already.

His little heart was yearning for his time to come.

Well, the time was now.

The last bit he had to had was just this one thing..

Patton pulled his phone up to him and opened a bookmarked website. His phone was put on “Do not disturb” which disabled all apps for him that he did not want to access or be notified about when regressed.

“ ‘Cus ‘m a gud boi..”, he mumbled to himself.

The praise left a reddish mark all over his cheeks and made his heart feel really soft and warm.

Patton curled up on his side and slowly put the first spoon of tiny pasta into his mouth. There was so much cheese on it, it had to be good. Nostalgia exploded within him as the flavour hit his tongue. The familiar taste of childhood-impatience engulfed him and sparked the simple joy of being alive and having tasty food in his heart.

“Aw..”, he mumbled to himself, nodding as if to show appreciation for the person who had made it. Neither his momma nor his grandma was with him but he routinely did so as a kid. So, now he did it, too, because he was small and a good and appreciative boy!

Patton munched on his happy food, enjoying the savoury tastes.

The regressed bean cuddled his food and focused on eating. No spill, no nothing but his light brain and simple mind made it harder to coordinate his hand movements in regard to his field of vision. Patton squinted a bit but the fact he got nostalgia food out of it made him more than compliant to the task.

“Not the pretty blankie”, he reminded himself with a content smile.

Meanwhile, the website he had opened was loading his favourite little gem. It was fanfiction, sure. It was not from his childhood like the happy cartoons he was watching (it was about little geometric figures befriending one another) but it was just as good in his opinion. It made him soft.

There.

He was done with his bowl of food and slowly put it aside, patting the bowl after resting it on the table. The bowl had done a good job in not spilling anything and holding the food for him. He, in turn, had done a great job in not spilling anything.

“Gud bowl.. gud fud..”, he commented gently.

The cartoon friends hugged and Patton cheered.

“Yay!Frens!”

He put his arms up, hands spread out as if to show his palms ever so proudly. The little beamed up at the TV and giggled along with Mister Triangle, Darling Circle and Miss Square. They were friends and he felt like a friend of them.

They turned to the viewer - Patton - and opened their hug to include him and the little squeaked into his room.

“Fren!!”

Patton giggled along with the geometric shapes who were his little friends. He hugged his blankie close and simply relished in the feeling of a warm and nice hug. Upon imagining this was what it was like to be snuggled at the moment, he focused on the softness of his blanket and its weight in his arms.

The regressed adult sighed out in relief, in contentment. A feeling flooded his insides like the ocean, waves rising and falling, breaking all over him with the sheer happiness of being “touched” and loved.

He let out another squeak, mumbling to himself.

“Fren ! Frens!”

He giggled.

His mind was fully smol. All adult worries and thoughts had slipped off his shoulders by now. The food, the cartoon, the happy blanket and the soft snuggles.

It was great, albeit not perfect.

Patton clicked his tongue, thinking about his name. It was so soft! Pat pat - hihi. Patt-on. He giggled more and buried his face in the snuggle companion, rolling from side to side with his blanket hugged close to him. The soft bundle was tightly held by his arms while the little shook his body, thrashing around like an exited puppy out in the fields. The overwhelming urge to just roll and turn and wiggle around on his couch was strong and amplified his innocent joy.

It was pure and it felt real and genuine in his heart.

His whole soul was taking the vacation of feeling and experiencing. Something he often abandoned in favour of being a reliable and fully functioning adult.

But adult time was nu now! Bad adulting! It was nice time!

“Nu adult, only baby!”, he assured himself.

He bapy! He B A B Y !!!

“b a p e y”, he repeated to himself.

Sometimes he had to voice his thoughts. It made him grin like a dummy but he liked it and it was happy feels for him! Gud feels!!

Now that he was smol, there was the final step. Back to his story.

The website was fully loaded and Patton blabbered to himself in impatience, in childish, pleasant anticipation.

“Euwus..”, he softly whispered to himself as he drew his phone close like the little treasure it was. To his mind, a smartphone was akin to magical power. He could watch cats and dogs and look at cute pictures of them, too! He could also just read and play anything and enjoy soft little games.

For now, he settled on reading.

He wanted to read his favourite little story. It was content made by a creator called “Faeling”, someone using really fancy pronouns like neo-pronouns and such. Hence the name according to their primarily used pronouns: fae/faem

The story was written by faem and was about a hero stealing all the uwus! Or rather, making other people so soft, they gave faem these uwus. It was funny and cute and ended in a lot of nice smooches and cuddles and snuggles.

Patton smiled and started scrolling.

Prinxe Eurus was a well-liked person and so adorable and soft, everyone squeaked and said “uwu” when fae was around. There were happy pictures of faem with red hair. Fae walked around in funky gowns and hugged people who would say “UwU” and other things like that really loud. Then Eurus would reach up to snatch these things. The prinxe was young and short than others but fae was athletic.

“Euwus has uwus..”, Pat observed happily.

His heart was throbbing in happiness as he read. It was beating fast and hard with how excited he was, anticipating any action that had yet to happen.

This was the best day! Bes!!

The story continued and Patton read.

Eurus was termed “Euwus” for possessing so many uwus. In fact, Eurus-Euwus had all the uwus of faer kingdom! Faer parents were upset but had no right to intervene. People had given their uwus to Eurus consensually and the people had risked getting their uwus snatched by interacting with them. A lot of people called to stop interacting with the prinxe but a lot of them only talked and were too captivated to stay away from faem.

The vicious circle continued.

People worked hard to regain more uwus and feel the same rush of happiness when Eurus-Euwus did adorable things like giggle, do the happy stimmy thing or gently just get excited. Fae would gasp and make really funny faces. Sometimes, the prinxe would squeak out nice words, compliments and other things alike and absolutely rob everyone of their uwus.

Pat hugged his blankie closer.

He was all soft for Euwus and was convinced fae had all his uwus. If not, he would make sure fae would get them.

There was another illustration. It was the parents looking at Euwus while people secretly smuggled their uwus over under skirts, in bags and other things. It was a row of people, so so long that the queue reached faaaar outside of their castle’s realm. The window showed people standing outside, trying to juggle their uwus in their arms.

Patton giggled.

There was a little dog and a snake bringing their uwus and putting them down before a delighted-looking Eurus-Euwus.

The little shook his head at the cute puns. They were adorable and made him tear up in happiness. All the good emotions welled up inside of him and piled up - stacked up - until he was full of all the good feelings.

It was called a “recharge” - at least he called it that when he was tol and realised he ran out of patience and adulting juice, so he knew it was time to be smol for a while.

Without further worrying, the little scrolled more. The best part was yet to come.

The prinxe soon had all the uwus and collected so many uwus that even neighbouring kingdoms were empty after people travelling from all the lands to come over and experience the lovely joy that was the younger royal.They all had lost their uwus to the charming giggles and delightful demeanour of Eurus. Still, they all hungered for more interaction.

There was an illustration of people lacking ALL the uwus to give to Eurus but they did nto look mad. They looked sad about not having the uwus to fully enjoy Eurus’ company.

Meanwhile, the next page showed how fae was desperate too, in a way. Fae had so many uwus, it was hard to move around as they took up all this space. Eurus could not even stop taking the uwus as they seemed to just come over and stick to faem as soon as the others were so excited, they just revealed the happy feelings in the form of uwus.

Patton gasped at the turn of events.

Eurus had too many uwus and the villages and kingdoms had too little! Fae had become Eurus the uwu snatcher, known to all people in all the lands!

The prinxe was a clever bunch of royal genes and decided to do something about the uwu situation. Fae decided to run tests while also silently smuggling the uwus back into faer people’s systems. Uwus were used to cook and everyone was invited to a special celebration. The extra sprinkles of uwus made the food even tastier. It was usually tasty because the royal cooks and bakers were great at their jobs and always made the best of foods, using the right ingredients. But this time, the food was astonishingly scrumptious.

Patton nodded at the words, his mind slurping up the story like Euwus snatched uwus. It was his favourite part.

He had to admit, he was silently blabbering little uwus whenever he saw them in the illustrations. The next illustration had some uwus too! There were uwus put into cooking pots, pans and other kitchenware. The cooks and baker were busy processing all the uwus in order to make the best of all the meals.

The citizens deserved regular free meals via invitation of the royal family. This one meal was just a bit more special than usual.

“Uwu uwu..”, Patton nodded.

His lips were moving, slightly curved in euphoria. His fingers were wrapped tightly around the phone, his excitement flowing into holding the phone as if even the least bit of letting go could lead to the story vanishing forever.

(To soothe this fear, he had saved it online, offline and had it ordered as a physical book.)

Patton kept reading.

Eurus had fed everyone these uwus and they all felt happiness filling them again but when fae announced this, they realised the change. They had interacted with one another so much, they were happy even without uwus! Being together was a delight and upon seeing the precious prinxe, people fell into a chorus of “aww”s anyway.

“I snatched all your uwus!”, Eurus had said.

The people were awestruck but oddly impressed. They agreed but everyone was delighted, still. Filled bellies and glasses provided a satisfaction that paired with the pure gift that was being around fae. But Eurus continued.

“You are still happy to see me. I could feel your uwus even before I gave you the food.”

They all agreed, a realisation slowly dawning on the faster thinkers among them. Eurus made sure to explain it to everyone for knowledge was important and fae appreciated faer clever people.

“I gave you all your uwus back! I had them be put into the food and now you all have your uwus back. Order is restored. I now rule you to use your uwus on one another!”

The people looked up at Eurus, still too stunned to react.

After a while, people clapped.

There was another illustration.

Eurus was on the stage, before a few benches and tables of wood standing outside. It was a sunny day and people were dressed casually.Everyone had bowls of food and cups of drinks and seemed to laugh and enjoy all around them. There was a big uwu around faem.

Fae continued and explaind how all were happy without uwus and that they had a wrong belief about it but had to learn and move on with the new knowledge. Still, as celebration, the prinxe explained fae would send and process uwus from everywhere to give to people who smiled less, so the uwus would be more evenly distributed.

The people cheered and Eurus was crowned to be “Euwus”. Everyone remembered fae as hero and equaliser of uwus. The food festivals became more regular and the kingdom was the happiest and richest in all the lands.

Not to speak of, it had all the uwus and prospered in people and nature.

Patton smiled contently and looked at the last illustration.

It showed the people being happy and the kingdom becoming exceptionally green and opulent. There was life everywhere and Euwus and faer family looked at them from their castle and they smiled, having all their own uwus.

The little put the phone away and snuggled his blanket. Soft noises escaped his mouth. He was blabbering himself to sleep as some young beans did.

His mind was soft and his heart was heavy and all he kind think of was the story.

“mmmuwu.. mwuwu..”, he mumbled deliriously.

His head rested on the mess of pillows and he curled up a bit, eyes heavy and slipping close. It had been a successful little time and he was ready to nap in his little happiness now. His mind mind promised dreams of snatching uwus alongside Euwus, the heroic figure of his favourite story.

“Mw..Euwuw..”

Patton’s eyes were too heavy to open anymore albeit fluttering a bit for just a moment. He put his face into his soft blanket and curled up like a sleeping dog, innocence in his heart and dreams in his head.

#patton sanders #sanders sides #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #Age Regression #little patton #age regression fic #soft things only #joey writes #little tales series

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andromedarune · 4 years

Text

Bede x Hop Request: “Just Desserts” (p1)

REQUEST ~ “I have one, it’s a hop x bede where bede feels bad for being mean to hop, but is too scared of apologizing to him in fear of rejection. Due to his past at the orphanage and his overall fear of being left alone again. So he decides to send homemade desserts to hop with secret messages ,anonymously . Hop Figures it out when the desserts stop coming after bede gets sick badly ( maybe a bad fever from exhaustion, anything that stops him from baking will do). You can include opal or the other gym leaders teasing hop on who could be sending the treats. I hope this is okay.”

A/N: Lolol this is a 2 parter bc my dumbass couldn’t stop writing even though I was in agony writing this (only bc I'm just not sure if it’s any good lolol). So, uh, please give me validation, haha - Hope y’all enjoy and the second part should be coming up sometime soon (when my brain decides to return into a solid shape).

The third time Hatterene hissed at him from across the room, Bede figured that he needed a better distraction. Obviously pacing wasn’t doing much to ease the frustration in his gut. The boy sighed, pausing to fix his neatly ironed white button-up shirt before turning on his heels and walking out the room. There were better things he could be doing with his time, anyways.

Things certainly have changed for the boy ever since he joined the gym challenge that fateful day. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. But he allowed himself a moment of gratitude, despite his usual vocalizations of annoyance in his current position in life, at how it was only a year ago that he was sitting in a poverty-stricken orphanage with a bunch of abhorrent adults pitying him every day. But he’d never let anybody know that, of course. The last thing he needed was people pitying him again; that was even more annoying than people trying to be his friend all the time. People could be so bothersome, it was sickening.

Bede made his way down the hall, unconsciously tip-toeing past Ms. Opal’s bedroom, where she no doubt was resting. Her age seems to finally be catching up with her, these days, since she seemed to be taking more naps than normal. The boy made sure not to comment about it. He didn’t need a lecture from that crazy old bag. Once clear, he made a sharp turn, stepping down the spiral staircase to find himself in the empty dining room. Once upon a time, large parties were held here, no doubt filled with beautifully rich people mingling to some classical music. Thankfully, no such nonsense happened here anymore, which meant Bede had relative free-reign of the house so long as he didn’t cause trouble. He meandered around the long mahogany table, keeping his steps as quiet as possible against the old wooden floorboards, and he made his way into the kitchen.

For years, the only thing Bede could reliably use for stress-relief had been battling. All his frustrations could come loose, he could speak his mind, and relish in the cool, refreshing glow of a victory after everything was said and done. Of course he would end up being pretty damn good at it, after so much dedication and practice. But then he joined the gym challenge, and that all went to pot. Suddenly, he started losing battles. Him? Losing a pokemon battle?! He had never even considered that to be a possibility before, but it was happening. Each and every battle suddenly became so personal, finding every possible weakness in his opponent to expose it and attain yet another beautiful victory. And for most opponents, it worked, and he hardly wasted another thought on the matter. But not all of them left his mind.

Bede frowned, crossing his arms with a huff as he leaned against the counter. These pesky feelings were really getting annoying. Maybe all these sweet-natured and emotional fairy-types were starting to affect him in more ways than one. He ran a hand through his curly locks as if the motion would magically clear his mind. It didn’t.

Well, there still is one thing that might ease his tensions. The youth dug through the kitchen, picking out some of the things he would need, and began his work.

Baking was a guilty pleasure of his, something only his pokemon and Ms. Opal knew about (and she only knew because she caught him in the middle of the night). The only reason he ever considered giving it a shot was because he had a serious sweet tooth, but growing up poor meant that it was hard to buy all those fancy cakes and cookies he longed for in the big bakeries of Wyndon. So he started making them himself. At first, everything was incredibly inedible, but he was stubborn about it. He collected books and articles about baking - all in secret - and eventually became good enough to where he figured that his confectionaries rivaled that of big businesses in the region. He’d probably make a killing off selling them, but he’d never even consider that possibility. The boy would probably die of embarrassment if anybody else found out about his skill in baking. It was bad enough being the fairy king of Ballonlea (as people seemed to be calling him, nowadays); he didn’t need people thinking he was some sweet-hearted weakling, either.

By the time he was whisking away the batter, his Sylveon pranced in, eager to try to steal a taste. The pink pokemon purred at his thigh, wrapping its ribbon-like appendages around his waist while he tried to ignore them.

“Don’t,” Bede snapped at the pokemon. “I’m not giving you any more batter.”

Sylveon barked, attempting to stand on its hind legs to blast a classic Baby Doll Eyes on it’s trainer. It’s not very effective.

“Sylveon.”

The pokemon pouted, slinking off to a corner to watch with a pitiful expression. Bede clicked his tongue, returning to his work in order to avoid falling for Sylveon’s little trap. The last thing he needed was Sylveon getting sick again. The boy worked in near complete silence, the only sounds coming from the occasional bang of a pan or a utensil against the countertop. He didn’t need to bother putting on an apron beforehand; he’s practically perfected his routine to where he hardly ever makes a mess, and if he does, he cleans it up right away. It was lazy to continue working in a dirty station. He eventually pours the dark chocolate batter into a circular pan, carefully tucking it into the preheated oven to cook.

Ah, yes, the time he hated the most - waiting. Thankfully, it wasn’t some giant, triple-decker cake that would need an eternity to cook; just forty minutes would suffice. He tidied up the kitchen a bit, washing some of the utensils and bowls he had borrowed before his mind started to wander yet again. He reached for the whisk when that terrible sensation in his gut suddenly slapped into him again, nearly forcing him down to his knees. The whisk tumbled down into the soapy water, sinking the bottom with a soft clank. Bede bit his lip, trying to keep his mind focused on the present. He didn’t have time to be wallowing in the mistakes of the past - he was better than that.

But still it remained. A bothersome guilt pulled him from the depths of his stomach, reminding him all the bitter words and heartless accusations he had thrown at so many people over the years. He thought that all of his training and efforts under Ms. Opal would be enough to push all those thoughts away, but they only increased with every day that went by. Though the world seemed to be forgiving him, he couldn’t help but hear the whispers of disdain amid the crowd with every match he participated in. It wasn’t like him to care about anybody else’s opinion. But here he was, running through every possible way he could make amends to the world. How pitiful. Bede shook his head. There’s no way to make everybody happy with me, he reminded himself, so just focus on being better. He was right; he couldn’t make amends with everyone, he couldn’t make everyone he hurt suddenly happy. But as Bede reached down for the whisk one more time, he couldn’t resist the want in his chest to try and reach out for the person he had hurt the most.

Yeah, that really wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Bede near slapped himself in the face. What was he even thinking? Reaching out to someone like that?! Pathetic. He should be ashamed that his brain even came up with such a worthless idea. With another huff, the boy finished the dishes, moving some more things out from the cabinets to begin making the icing. It would be a travesty to put simple whipped cream icing on a chocolate cake, so Bede started working himself through a familiar buttercream recipe. Which was fine; everybody likes buttercream. Well, everyone with a soul likes buttercream. At least in Bede’s opinion.

The oven dinged not too long after. The boy paused his work to pull out the aromous dessert, setting it delicately on the middle shelf of the brand-new blast chiller that he received as a gift from Ms. Opal. He returned to the icing, popping in some pastel pink dye for reasons. The task would likely be complete by the time the cake was an acceptable temperature. He had done this a thousand times. Everything was second-nature, at this point.

Soon enough, it was his favorite part of the process. He scooped all of the icing and stuffed it into a frosting bag, pulled out the cake, and began his work. Out of the entire process, the icing was his favorite. Delicate, precise, no room for error. His mind would go completely blank as his hands did all the work, sculpting elegant rose designs along the sides of the cake. Never anything too elaborate (not that he couldn’t make it fancy, of course), never anything too plain. A perfect work of art - a declaration of love, if you will. But perhaps that was an interpretation that only Bede could recognize, much less appreciate. Finally, it was complete, sitting before him in all its beautiful, delicious glory. Sylveon trotted back up to its trainer, trying to stand up a little taller to get a better look at the result. Bede stared down at the cake, unsure how to feel. It was just what he envisioned. No doubt it would taste as good as it looked, probably even better. He poured his emotions into making this work of art, as he always had. But why did he always hesitate? Hadn’t he made this for himself to eat?

Bede shook his head, trying to hold back the trembling sigh from his lips. He wandered back to the kitchen to wash his hands, Sylveon watching with a perplexed expression. When the pokemon called for his attention, he finally slumped forward, leaning against the counter with his eyes slammed shut.

“I can’t do it,” he scoffed, unsure of who he was even talking to. “I do this every time, and I still can’t do it.”

Sylveon returned to his side, pressing a wet nose against Bede’s elbow. The boy absentmindedly reached down for the lovely creature, running his hands through the soft fur in hopes that it would ease his frustrations.

There was one other reason that Bede baked. He had always thought that food was the way to someone’s heart, especially sweets. Surely it would be enough to earn someone’s forgiveness, as well.

But the idea of actually doing that was terrifying. There was simply no way he could head all the way down to the laboratory in Wedgehurst, knock on the door with his heart in his hands, and beg for forgiveness from the person he had been so sure that he hated with every fiber of his being. And why? Because he was jealous? Confused? Like anybody would believe that nonsense. Even the thought of looking into those brilliant golden eyes again filled him with so much anxiety that it was difficult to breathe. Even thinking that person’s name would be a death sentence for Bede’s decrepit heart. Did he even still have one? Surely he must - all these pesky emotions had to be coming from somewhere. You would think that years of self-inflicted bitterness and anger would wring that stuff out of you, but apparently not.

Sylveon nudged his trainer yet again. Deep magenta eyes peered down, still trying to seem irritated with the pokemon’s constant interruptions.

“What?” he frowned.

The pokemon just stared up at him, that hopeful twinkle in its eyes gleaming with just a hint of… knowingness? The boy flicked up an eyebrow.

“You’re not serious,”

Sylveon barked happily.

“Most definitely not.”

A whine. Bede ran another hand through his hair, shaking his head. There was no way his pokemon was going to convince him to do something so childish. Right?

And yet, there he was, standing in front of the Wedgehurst Pokemon Laboratory, simple white box in his trembling hands. A small pink envelope rested on the top of the box, devoid of any signature or address. Just a quick drop-off gift to ease his conscience a little, nothing more. Sure, he had spent nearly three hours writing a letter - constantly writing then rewriting then rewriting some more in an attempt to make his words sound less annoying - but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Not like he would even know who sent this stuff. Bede made sure of that. So, with a deep inhale, the pink-clad boy gingerly placed the gift on the welcome mat, giving it a much too sentimental pat before racing off. Sylveon, following its cue, slapped the doorbell and scampered off after its owner, hiding beside the side of the building. Bede scooped up the pokemon, holding it to his chest while his heart raced inside of him. Was he making a big mistake? Would he even feel any sort of comfort from this? He wasn’t expecting any sort of forgiveness - he didn’t even sign the note! Maybe this wasn’t exactly his best idea.

The door opened with a creak, halting the gym leader’s breathing for a moment. A hefty bleat burst into life from the porch. No doubt that was Dubwool. Bede held his breath a little longer, clutching onto his decently sized pokemon for dear life.

“Hey, what’s this?” Hop’s voice wafted into the air. Bede could have died right then and there. Already he sounded so different - hadn’t it only been a year since they last spoke to each other? He sounded so much like his brother, but more youthful and bright…. But Bede tried not to think about that too much. “I don’t think Sonia’s expecting a package today.”

It’s for YOU, you dolt, Bede wanted to scream, feeling his face heat up to a rather unsightly shade of pink. Well, if pink could really be unsightly. But the sounds of shuffling and the following shut of the front door soon ease all the tension from the gym leader’s shoulders. Sylveon squirmed a bit in his hold, but Bede was too busy peeking around the corner. The box was now gone, no doubt in the hands of the professor’s assistant. Everything was out of Bede’s hands. He had technically made his amends, and could live his life in peace. With a smug nod of his head, he left the laboratory and made his way back to Ballonlea.

But then next week came along, and the feelings returned again. Bede could hardly focus on his training because of it; those terrible anxious feelings curled around in his stomach, but this time were tinged in a strange sensation of - dare he say - longing. Had Hop read the letter? Had he eaten the cake? Was it good? Did he even like chocolate cake with buttercream icing? Bede paused at that. Everyone likes chocolate cake with buttercream icing, he affirmed to himself, those who don’t are soulless and tasteless wretches! But still, these emotions didn’t seem to be leaving him any time soon. Sylveon pranced up to him as he stomped out of the stadium, frustrated with his own distraction, and offered a knowing yip. Bede didn’t even try to argue. He just grumbled a frustrated affirmation to the pokemon and hurried back to Ms. Opal’s house.

Within the next couple of hours, another elegant cake was crafted, just as perfect as the last. This time, though, he decided upon a chaste vanilla batter, along with a basic cooked frosting that was dyed a pale blue. Unlike the last, this cake was considerably more simple, but still managed to hold an elegant touch thanks to the delicate rose sculptures dancing along the top of the cake. While Bede was positive that his last cake was absolute perfection, he figured that a change of flavors could be appreciated. There was no way that Hop would have disliked something so perfect, no? Bede didn’t let himself entertain that thought.

As he wrapped up his cake, however, he noticed Sylveon trot away from his place at his feet. Before Bede could ask what was the matter, his eyes caught sight of that familiar old woman gazing curiously at the boy from the threshold. Bede grimaced, trying not to seem so guilty.

“A-ah, Ms. Opal, I….”

“Feeling frustrated, I see?” she spoke as plain as day, giving the pokemon a few pats.

Bede looked back down to his creation, wishing that she would just leave him alone. It wouldn’t be the first time anybody would do that.

“I was just feeling unsatisfied with my performance today during training. Nothing more.”

“Hm… And might I add that you’re looking considerably more pink than you usually are.”

Bede grumbled, raising a hand up to his cheeks. Sure enough, they were warm.

“D-don’t you have anything better to do?”

Opal shrugged, seeming content to watch the boy squirm underneath her sharp glare. He was an adorable little thing, if a bit ornery. Well, incredibly ornery. Eventually, though, she began to shuffle off, waving a withered hand in her farewell.

“Go on - make your delivery before the cake gets stale. Wouldn’t want that sweet little Hop eating a stale cake, now, do we?”

“Ah, yes, of course - WAIT WHAT?!?”

But she was already down the hall, hooting to herself in her crazy old laughter. The pink on his cheeks flared into a strawberry red, burning through his body like he was hit with a powerful Will-o-Wisp. How could she have seen right through him? Was he really that obvious? Before he could scream at her that she was misinterpreting things, Sylveon nudged the boy’s side. Well, maybe that could wait until after the cake was delivered. Bede pursed his lips as he finished boxing up the cake, and hurried off to scratch out an acceptable letter to go with it.

Just one more should do it, he reminded himself as he reached the laboratory yet again, depositing his anonymous gift onto the welcome mat just like before. And then my conscience will be clear and I can focus on more important things. He nodded to himself before scrambling away, letting his Sylveon ding-dong-ditch just like last time.

“Oh, another?” Hop’s voice eventually rang out, snagging something deep in Bede’s chest. “I wonder if it’s from the same person?”

Of course it is, you moron! Bede silently fumed from the side of the laboratory, waiting for the door to shut. A few moments went by, filled with a strange silence. Bede crossed his arms, trying to ignore the rising sense of dread in his gut. Just take it inside already, he wanted to shout. But that’d be unwise, exposing himself in such a childish manner. So the gym leader remained silent, counting the seconds as he fought the urge to peek around. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the door eventually closed, releasing the breath that Bede had been unconsciously holding the entire time. He glared down at Sylveon, who seemed incredibly happy at the moment as it danced around Bede’s feet.

“Alright,” he whispered, pointing a finger at the jovial creature, “that’s the last one. No more after this - got it?”

Sylveon wagged its tail, staring back with those big dumb eyes to its trainer. Bede let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He figured that reprimanding the pokemon would be fruitless, so he just decided to leave now while he had the chance. The last thing he needed was to get caught while engaging in an unsightly shouting match with a rather clueless Sylveon.

#pokemon #Pokemon Sword and shield #pokemon swsh #swsh #gym leader bede #bede #assistant hop #hop #bede x hop #bedexhop #bede/hop #I made bede a soft boy who tries to be a tough boy #we all know the truth #part 2 should be angstier and fluffier #so prepare to suffer I guess???

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rahabs · 4 years

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How are you staying active during quarantine? I just tipped into 180lbs, highest I've ever been, and I'm getting really depressed about it 😔 I've only gained about 7-8 pounds due to the quarantine, but back in January I was at 163, and I'm really struggling with the fact that I'm back up again after how hard I've been working. It feel like I can't get the weight to stay off, now esp. (Sorry for the mini rant, but I actually followed you Bc of your fitness posts, I appreciate them a lot

Many hugs to you, Anon, and there is no need to apologise 🖤 You are definitely not alone. I have also been struggling a lot with my weight recently (I have deliberately been putting on muscle, about 25lbs of it, but it is still a struggle to do so and to feel sometimes like my work getting down from 210lbs is being reversed--I am up to 145-150lbs myself, even though I still fit most all of my clothes from when I was 122lbs), but please do not be too hard on yourself! Some of that weight gain might be muscle, but I understand how frustrating and demoralising it can be nonetheless, I really do. Like... I really, really cannot emphasise enough how much I understand and how much I get what you’re going through right now, and I wish with all my heart that you weren’t going through it, because it hurts and it makes you just feel awful and so I am really and truly wishing you all the best right now, but also I have the utmost faith in you and despite the setback it is nothing that you cannot fix going forward 🖤

To answer your question, I’ve been doing a mix of things, but the two biggest things for me are that I built myself a routine, and I try to just walk everywhere that I can. Also, I track in an app called MyFitnessPal, because I need to hold myself accountable. The gyms in my city have recently opened back up and I have usually been going five times a week (reduced capacity and you can only go for an hour, but I use every second of that hour because cardio is how I best manage OCD/PTSD/anxiety, and I love love love seeing some beloved familiar strangers at the gym--we all wave happily to each other, since we tend to book the same time slots 🖤), but before they opened up my biggest friend was just walking. I have a lot of joint issues due to my improperly healed torn hip flexor and my former obesity, so I can’t run, but you don’t need to run. Walking is your best friend. Or even household chores. I used to work for a landscaping company, so when I can I will help with the yardwork (even though I dislike it--I try to find ways to make it more fun, and I genuinely enjoy being out in the sun, so there’s that at least). I make sure things stay tidy, I’ve been writing a lot and trying to see friends when I can, or get out to hike in the mountains. If I go grocery shopping and I’m waiting in a line, sometimes I’ll lazily bicep-curl my grocery bags. I’ll walk to the mailbox, I’ll walk through the neighbourhood, I’ll walk to the grocery store or to the nearest gas station. My dogs are old so I cannot walk them anymore, especially since we are under a heat wave, but I’ll get up and play with them. Bottom line: if I could find somewhere to walk and an excuse to walk there, I would. When I couldn’t, I would sit down and exercise by following my favourite home workout YouTube channel. (Seriously, she is amazing; I’ve followed her for years, since her channel was just starting out. I just got a half-sleeve tattoo and cannot use a lot of gym equipment at the moment so I have gone back to her videos, as she provides a lot of modifications and alternatives and just so many good at-home exercises that you don’t need any fancy equipment for.)

The routine is the most important part, though. I need structure, and if I have structure I find that I am less likely to binge, because my brain won’t freak out as much (whether out of boredom or something else).

You might know this already but I’m a (recovering) binge-eater and I also eat when bored or stressed, so I’ve just been trying to occupy myself with things other than food. I had a really bad spot for awhile where I was doing really, really poorly in that department an binged every day, but I finally put my foot down last week and this is the longest that I’ve been binge-free in months. I also have BDD, which I am working on (hard going when my attempts to ask the people around me for help often fall on deaf ears).

I think it’s important to realise that fitness and weight loss isn’t always linear. There will be times where you falter and stumble and when that happens it’s important not to punish yourself--instead just accept and acknowledge that it’s happened and adapt for the future. Like a little AAA battery! Bodies are also weird, and sometimes they react to things strangely. I’m not a professional in any way, but since working to put on some muscle I have noticed that women’s bodies at least like... they are strange things sometimes. And I know it sounds weird, but try not to put too much emphasis on a number on the scale. I’m not saying “get rid of the scale!” or “smash the scale!” or anything silly like that because I think to some people having the scale is really important, so long as it doesn’t become something obsessive you fixate on (I have severe OCD, professionally diagnosed, so easier said than done, but it’s doable by adding it to the routine and picking one day a week where I check in), but make sure it doesn’t become a focal point of your weight loss.

Instead, just notice how your clothes are fitting. If you have body tape, you can use that too. Pick a favourite pair of jeans and just see how they fit over time, or a favourite bra, or something that doesn’t stretch as easily as yoga pants. Again, some of your recent weight gain might actually be muscle mass, especially if you aren’t noticing a lot of change in how your clothes from January fit. When I first hit 145lbs when I was first losing the weight, I didn’t look like I do at my current 145-150lbs, after having got down to 120 and then making the decision to put some muscle back on. Save for some jean shorts that I bought at my lowest weight, because I build thick muscles in my thighs, I still fit all the clothes I bought and wore at 120lbs--including my fitted dresses, my Stampede jeans, most of my bras, and the pair of “check Lulus” I bought because those things are without mercy. I also have a couple really good friends I check in with who know me and who I can trust to tell me the truth when I cannot perceive it myself. And, when I’m being honest with it (which I am trying really hard to be again), I have MyFitnessPal, which has been with me through thick and thin.

If you can, I would recommend a good fitness tracker, too. Fitbit is really good and user-friendly. I have a Garmin now, because Fitbit doesn’t make adult watches or watch bands small enough for my ridiculous baby bird wrists, but I had my Fitbit for years before that and it saw me through the vast majority of my weight loss/fitness quest. It can be very helpful to just help you gauge where you are; most people grossly overestimate how active they actually are, and if you’re up for it, a tracker can be helpful in giving you empirical data from which you can base some better decisions around.

And just do you best to stay active. I do not know if you have any gyms where you live or if they’re open, but I would really recommend getting a membership, though I totally understand that gyms are not for everyone. If not, I really do recommend checking out that youtube channel I linked (Koboko Fitness), and just doing your best to walk wherever there’s the option to walk (and it won’t cause undue hardship/pain/etc). Lift some boxes around the house. Turn doing the dishes into a stretching exercise. If you’re familiar with yoga, do yoga (I do not because I am not familiar with it and it can be dangerous to people like me with joint issues to start if you don’t have anyone around who can tell you if you’re doing it right, but my younger sister is working on a cert and she does yoga daily, even with the baby bump). Many gyms are offering online classes right now too, including the gyms I go to (GoodLife Fitness in Canada), so they can be worth checking out too!

But also just know you’re not in that boat alone. Many people are struggling right now, including myself, so if you ever need to chat my inbox and my DMs are always open (and I can toss my Discord handle out too if that helps), because a support system can really make all the difference. I never had one for the longest time, and so when I fell back on old, bad habits it took me awhile to pull myself out of it (again). I really can talk about this forever but I will stop myself now because I am a chatty cathy but! Please feel free to send messages whenever you want, Anon, and please be kind to yourself! I know it’s scary and I know it’s disappointing because I have been there many a time but you can do this, I believe in you! You’ve had a setback but it isn’t anything that can’t be fixed/corrected and I have faith that you will be able to get back on the proverbial horse and mow down Alexander’s armies in a way that would make the Achaemenids proud 🖤 I hope this helped in some way and that I was able to answer your question!

#weight loss #fitness #long post #text #mens sana in corpore sano #ed mention #ed for cw #anonym #ask #reply

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sevngmin · 5 years

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college!seungmin

ok so

my friend made a thread(im not able to link it as her account is private) of skz as students at my college

and then i saw another thread of skz as college students

so here i am

major: law

club: photography

used to shoot his pictures on his dslr in auto mode until he joined the photography club,,, which fellow member hyunjin scolded him for

let’s be honest,, seungmin is that one boy in your major that everyone has a crush on

(you’d better be lying if you said you never have had an eye candy/crush on him before)

he came to school once with his hair up and every girl in his class wanted to set the school on fire bc that’s not the content they signed up for

and has his hair up more often,,,

not in a bad way tho bc he takes pride in dressing up for school sometimes and when people praise him for it he gets a lil blushy and goes (*^▽^*) thankuuu!!!!

if you’re in a project group w him you’re in luck bc seungmin always is super nice to his teammates and offers to lunch over work

(and also has his hair up for presentations,,, double oof)

sPeaking about presentations there was once he was looking especially fine while presenting about criminal law

and people were sneakily snapping pics of him

poor boy got so blushy he stuttered so much :(

honestly too nice to mark people down for peer evaluation but when they’re blatantly not doing work he’d not hesitate to give them a zero

you’d wouldn’t want to see him angry too esp when he hardly gets mad

meanwhile, you on the other hand,,, not so much

you have had your fair share of shitty teammates and you couldn't take it anymore

like,, have you been too nice to people for them to tell you to “just chill” when you get mad???? for legitimate reasons???

you just don’t get it

anyway

you and seungmin are friends bc he was your classmate since freshman year

and is the only one who you are somewhat familiar with in this year’s class

tbh you never really saw seungmin as someone more bc you two are kinda close and after you know him he gets kinda dorky its cute

like yeeeeeaaaaa sometimes you inevitably have the teeny tiny crush on seungmin but its no biggie

you guys are like close?? but not rlly bc seungmin has his own group of friends and you have your own

you are close with hyunjin but that's only bc y’all are on the dance team and besides, he’s in another major

seungmin always sits beside you in classes people think you’re his gf or sumn

but the people in the same class knows y’all are not bc you were the only one who snorted(too loudly) when seungmin knocked his head on the table while falling asleep in a tutorial

all the girls wanted to murder your ass for it tbh

seungmin is kind of your therapist in a way in which he lunches with you often and listens to your rants

be it about the iced chocolate in the cafeteria being watered down too much or standing on the crowded morning bus

seungmin is always that listening ear no matter what

quote hyunjin; “you should start charging her for listening to her rant about the school’s budget for the tenth time this semester”

also you; “i should start charging you for constantly making me stay back to watch you go over that same routine and song over and over again after practice.”

touché

moving on

honestly you weren’t looking forward to this year’s class bc the people in class r rlly gossipy and known for talking shit about others

but i mean,, you’re in school to get that degree,,, and not deal w shitty people right

WRONG

when the tutor assigned groups for a group project you were thanking the high heavens that seungmin was in your team

and as the team leader

so that no free-riders go to your team

it’s the week of submissions and there’s this member that kept giving excuses for not doing her part in the group report

and hence you had to do it because her parts were closely linked to yours and without her parts, you couldn't start on yours

seungmin had to help out too bc he feels obligated to as the team leader

and also feels bad??? bc he knows how you’ve been dealing w shitty people and now its another one

you honestly just want better people tbh

so like you just really couldn’t take it and went up to her face during lesson and said,

“hey if you’re not doing work i’m asking seungmin to boot you out bc you’re not doing your work”

nd she had the audacity to say,

“i did my work???? wdym”

aka write her name on the cover page

(and even spelt it wrong smh)

you rolled your eyes and huffed,

“i’m telling seungmin to boot you out, find another team.”

she just laughs maniacally which scares you, until she regains her composure and goes

“what? has sucking seungmin’s dick gotten to your pea brain?”

(that was so crude im sorry)

and she said it so loud the rest of your classmates could hear and started murmuring amongst themselves

you were appalled at her words, speechless as you could feel your blood boiling

“i must be right huh,” she scoffs, turning her attention back to her phone, “sucking up to the pretty boy to get good grades, how low.”

you really wanted to slap the living life out of her

before you could do so, seungmin slammed his hand on the table, shocking everyone

“you’re the one to speak, who did nothing but to put her name on the cover page of the report, and to the point of spelling it wrong,” seungmin seethed, which made you honestly scared of him

he stood up with his laptop and cancelled her name in front of her eyes, then pushing you behind him, “as of now, you are not part of our group. if i ever hear you bothering any of my groupmates, i will not hesitate to report this to the course head. i hope i made myself clear enough.”

you could see the fear in everyone’s eyes, as it was the first time that they saw him genuinely get really really mad at someone

the girl ran out of class crying, as you slumped in your seat, mind still unable to wrap around how she was so rude to you, hands visibly shaking

“are you okay?” seungmin asked, eyes now dripped with worry, contrary to his anger-filled eyes just moments ago

“yeah, i guess.” you bit your lip, opening up your laptop, “thanks, for standing up for me.”

“a frown doesn’t look good on you,” seungmin commented, “just smile now, hmm? it’s all over, and you don’t have to deal with her again.”

you look over at seungmin, whose brown eyes were still staring at you

you gulped, crimson tinting your cheeks as you looked away and faked a smile,

“yeah yeah, thank you for saving me, prince seungmin.” you teased to hide the blush on your cheeks

and weirdly after this incident seungmin has been kinda protective over you???

like offering to drive you to school

eating lunch with you more often

offering to drive you back home

basically sticking to you the whole time in school

not that you were complaining, seungmin has even been more affectionate?? kinda

sending you good morning and goodnight texts

smiling more often around you and laughing at your lame jokes,,, when normally he would just stone at them

to the point when your friends started asking if you and seungmin were dating,,, bc he just stuck by you almost every breathing second you’re out of your house

you had to keep telling them no until one day,,,,,, you confronted seungmin

as soon as you got into seungmin’s car, you asked,

“why are you doing this?”

“doing what?” seungmin laughs, stopping at a red light

“this.” you deadpanned, “driving me to school, driving me back, being so close to me, everything. we’re not dating or in a relationship either, so why?”

seungmin turned to you, looks at you dead in the eye and presses a kiss to your forehead, which brings heat to your cheeks

“you’re awfully dense for a law student, aren’t you?” he smiles, diverting his attention back on the road, “if that didn’t make it obvious already, that i like you.”

“h-how can you say that so casually?” you stuttered, burying your cheeks in your hands, “that’s not sincere enough.”

seungmin stops at another red light, then presses a kiss to your lips, and you were pretty sure your cheeks were hot enough to cook eggs on them

“is that better?” seungmin bit his lip, obviously shy at what he just did skskskskskskks

and you do say yes

cute

when he tries to be smooth and all but his face just gives his inner emotions away

you turn up in school holding seungmin’s hands from then on

and all the girls cried for a week straight

#stray kids scenarios #i'll add in the links in a separate post bc the tags wont work if i add them in #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids fluff #kim seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin scenarios #seungmin fluff #seungmin imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #college!au #college!skz

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hes-writer · 5 years

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A Cheat IV

How about when y/n is engaged with her boyfriend and how happy she is with her life but harry is still miserable. He misses her so much that he begs her to take him back, like literally begging. He tells her that he’ll do anything bc it hurts him to see her getting married with someone else. But y/n isn’t having any of it so she tells him “you already took my heart for granted and left me broken. But now i finally found my happiness again, you’re going to take that away from me too?”

Summary: Harry cheats, Y/N is happy

Warnings: angst

Word count: 3.6k

“That’s what I hoped and gee thanks, have fun with yours too if you ever get over me,” Harry smirk at her menacingly.

She rolls her eyes, burning from the tears she held back. She remains strong.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Y/N couldn’t believe how well things have been going for her. In the past eight months after her and Harry’s horrid conclusion to their relationship, Y/N had finally graduated from university after four grueling years of late nights and caffeine coursing through her system. She had gotten a puppy—something that she’d always wanted, but never took the initiative to get one. After tossing her cap in the air during the ceremony with Alan beside her, she was offered a job at a well-known law firm only a few weeks after. Everything is going great.

Not a few days ago, Alan had proposed to her and the engagement ring on her pinky finger was proof of a powering relationship, glimmering against the light of her wooden work desk serving as a backdrop. She smiles to herself, thinking how things finally turned around for her. One of her coworkers passes by, noticing the jewelry adorning her finger and stops to eye her suspiciously, a smile stretching over her face before squealing as Y/N nods shyly. She congratulates Y/N before walking away to her own table.

Y/N’s phone ‘dings’.

Alan

“hey babe, im cooking dinner tonight

what do u want? :))))”

She sighs with satisfaction, having someone supporting her through everything made her feel wanted. Alan is the perfect match for her. Regardless of dating for only six months (they've known each other since high school), he’s been a sturdy shoulder to lean on during the past two where she altered between crying over Harry or being a strong, independent woman that has had enough of being treated like shit. When he asked her out, granted a bit timidly since he wasn’t exactly sure if she was ready to move on, she hesitated but she trusts Alan. She also told herself that not all men are like Harry.

-----

Irene and Harry’s relationship didn’t last long after Y/N caught them in the bathroom. Actually, it ended not too long after. Since Harry’s attention was focused solely on her, Irene took advantage of that and asked him to purchase her a bunch of things that she ‘probably didn’t need’, Harry thinks. I mean, did she honestly need four of the same bags in different colours? Or having Harry book five-star restaurants around the city to celebrate Irene's friend's brother-in-laws birthday? Ridiculous. The price didn’t bother him as he had enough money to buy an island, but hearing her talk his ear off about a new Versace handbag or the recent fall line of Jimmy Choo heels that she just had to get her hands on; he’s had enough. Before officially officially splitting from Y/N, Irene had asked him to buy her stuff, sure, but it used to be minute things like a new perfume or some brand-name makeup. But now, it’s as if she thought her name was titled to Harry’s earnings, threatening to break up with him if he didn’t comply.

At first, he gave in to everything, mistaking the fear of Irene leaving him as something he was deathly afraid of. But now, realizing that the feelings he held for were nothing but sexual infatuation, something exciting and thrilling in his life. Now that he had nothing to hide, his life was giving an off vibe–yearning for Y/N’s presence. Yes, Harry missed Y/N.

He first felt a twinge in his heart in that bathroom, slowly but surely, it kept coming back stronger and more frequently. It happened especially before bed, when Y/N would usually speak to him about her day or ask him about his, or even caress him with gentle touches to calm him before sleeping, he misses her gestures that he only thought of as pestering and nagging during the last few months, but really it was nothing more than actions of love and concern. Irene never gave him a second glance, she cuddled into his chest, manicured razor sharp nails scratching his chest as if to be done as a calming notion, but Harry feels it as a burning sensation that urged him to shift uncomfortably from the woman beside him.

Irene was different from Y/N, stating the obvious. Y/N cleaned the house routinely, cooked the most flavourful dishes, and stocked the kitchen and bathroom with supplies efficiently. Harry believes in splitting the workload and chores between people who lived in the house –which was both of them– but Y/N took special charge in the household activities, saying that Harry needs his rest after being busy the whole day. He feels like a jerk sometimes knowing that she was stressed too, yet she continues to work harder than anyone he’d ever met. Besides that, his comparison was that Irene was rather unforgiving with chores. She’d requested many times that Harry hire someone else to do the work for them, she didn’t even live with him! Saying that her nails were too expensive or that her hands were too precious to handle the pressure of cleaning anything in the house. And when Harry did hire someone, she looked down on the helper as if she had the right to do so. Harry powered through her attitude for the good—recently mediocre— sex and the company.

As things got worse, he didn’t know how much more of Irene he can handle. When he received the news that she was cheating on him with her boss, he snapped. He spoke to that guy in person about giving Irene a promotion and this was how they repaid him. Frankly, it didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought; it didn't hurt as much as his break up with Y/N. He was relieved that she wasn’t going to be around anymore. But all things have an equal and opposite reaction because now, Harry felt extra lonely.

The slight twinge in his heart built into something grander when he was left alone with his own thoughts. Replaying his memories with Y/N trying to see where it went wrong. And at that moment, Harry realizes that it was all his fault. He was the reason why they drifted, he was the reason why she packed her things and left their house with nothing but a few stacks of bills in her hands to last for a few months because he’d essentially kicked her out of his life. What was he thinking?

-----

Y/N was on her lunch break for the day, deciding to grab food at the cafe a few blocks from the firm. She was hastily carrying herself through crowds of people with somewhere to go. Once she arrived, she stands behind a lengthy line of customers waiting to state their order to the cashier. Although Y/N rarely strays from getting her regular items, she scans the menu briefly anyway.

Her turn comes, ordering and paying for her food, she was asked to wait on the left side. The main entrance bell chimes, indicating that someone new had either left or entered the café.

Harry walks in with his grandpa hat covering much of his hair and he hopes that it's doing a good job at disguising his face. His hands held tight in his pockets as his lanky legs move him to the line-up. He did not need to look at the menu since he always gets his coffee black. Instead, his eyes scan the area, looking for watchful eyes from people who have recognized him or casually inspecting his surroundings for the sake of it. His eyes land on a familiar head of hair that he has to blink thrice to make sure of what he was really seeing.

There stood Y/N clad in her matching pantsuit, hair in a ponytail and a bag clutched on her elbow. She looks sideways and he was blessed with a side profile of her face. Oh, how he misses her. He decides to take a detour from his usual escapades and makes a beeline towards her.

"Hey"

Y/N turns around, face visibly displaying a mixture of disappointment, confusion, and anger upon seeing Harry.

"Hi," she says curtly, before turning around as her name was called. She grabs her latte and croissant, turning around swiftly before lightly knocking shoulders with Harry's broad ones, make an escape route to the exit. Even though she still had an hour or so left on her break, she doesn't think that she could handle spending any more time with Harry in the vicinity. So she exits and makes it out on the street that has cleared some during her fifteen minutes indoors.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait. Please," Harry shouts from behind her, weaving his way around people blocking his way to Y/N.

"What do you want, Harry?" You.

"I saw you and wanted to say hi," he explains, eyes finding hers trying to find any kind of emotion that meant she was somehow glad to see him. H finds none.

"Well, you said hi. See you around," Y/N briskly tries to walk away once again but is stopped when he grabs her wrist. A chill makes its way up her spine, heart beating untimely. She gulps.

"Please, Y/N. Let's talk,"

She pretends to look at her watch, rolling her eyes before saying, "Fine. You've got ten minutes,"

The pair walk side-by-side towards a nearby park. The silence between them was uncomfortable for both. Sitting on a bench, Harry shifts his body facing her, clearing his throat.

"I want to apologize for-for what I did before," Y/N can tell that he's nervous by the way his body language breaks down in from of her.

"You mean when you cheated on me and I caught you fucking her brains out in the bathroom? Or was it when you knew that your feelings changed for me but you led me on anyway?" Y/N raises her brows accusingly.

He gulps in response.

"Y-yeah for that. Look, I thought about it and it turns out that I still love you, Y/N. I still have feelings for you,"

She takes a bite of her croissant, shifting her gaze somewhere else and further emphasizing how uncomfortable she was feeling right now.

"And if you'd let me, I want to give it another try. I promise I won't ever do it again. You deserve the world and I'm willing to give it to you. I'll do anything that it takes to have you forgive me," he pleads seriously. If he had to jump off of a bridge for another chance at Y/N's love, he would do it. He will do anything to have Y/N forgive him. Anything.

He was blind without her, lost without any guidance and navigating the world alone. He needed Y/N to tell him that it was gonna be okay when times go rough; he needed Y/N to love him like she did before, the way he does for her right at this very moment. He wants to relive the past where he didn't take her for granted--when they were happy. And if he can't, he might as well give it another shot, to experience the happiness she brought him once again by trying the circumstances. He was ready for it if she was.

"I'm engaged, Harry."

His eyes were like laser beams boring through her face; eyebrows furrowing, lips pursing open and closed and his chest felt crushed from the force of her words. She didn't say in a tone to spite him or make him jealous, it was soft and gentle–merely stating a fact that he obviously missed out on because What?

"Engaged? Y/N, what are you talking about," He spits out nervously, not wanting to accept the truth but wanting to learn more about her status. It’d only been eight months, surely she couldn’t have moved on that fast. You’re one to talk, Harry. He snickers to himself.

"Alan and I—we're getting married," She takes a sip of her beverage, ring glinting against Harry's green eyes and he swears that he just saw his life flash before his eyes.

There it is. The ring that bonded Alan and Y/N together, glistening in the sunlight, taunting him. It rested so gently on her pinky as if it was meant to be there. When Harry imagined this moment, she wore a ring that he had given her because he was the one who got down on a knee, declaring his undying love for her, praising her for her beauty and grace, and asking her the question he'd pictured himself repeat about a hundred times under his breath trying to find the best way to ask her to be his wife.

"Y-you're getting married? Tell me you're lying," He sounds angry, demanding, and in disbelief of what's unfolding right in from of his eyes and ears. "Tell me that you're pulling my leg, love," he says his second statement with great vulnerability, voice cracking in the middle of it to which Y/N retracts her neck, appalled.

"No, I'm not kidding. Why would I do that?" Y/N was confused about why Harry was reacting the way he is right now. Shouldn't he be happy for her? After all, he did break it off between the two of them so he had no right to feel hurt or pained. He had Irene.

"Because I wanted it to be me!" He all but yells at her face. Neck vein straining from the blood rushing to his brain, making him dizzy with the knowledge he just received. Palms sweating profusely forcing him to wipe it on his jeans before he takes hold of her empty hand, taking it in his own which she surprisingly lets him.

"I wanted it to be me. I want you to be mine and now I can't because he—he's the one you're going to marry," A lone tear falls down his eyes, nose starting to get runny from the emotions that overwhelm him. She tries to pull her hand back to herself, but he doesn't let her.

"Why are you crying? You wanted this, you wouldn’t have cheated on me if you didn't want me out of your life," She tries to reason and justifies with his previous actions. Everything was making sense until he spits out the bullshit of still loving her. And even so, why did he wait so long to find her and tell her?

"It was a mistake! I was stupid and a huge asshole, I didn't think of the consequences." He grasps tightly to her hand, fearing that this may be the absolute last time he'll be able to touch her like this. "I took advantage of you, of your love and I shouldn't have because you're the most amazing person in this world. You gave me chance after chance and I didn't deserve any of it b-but I just wished you'd give me another one,"

Harry brings her hand up to his lips, kissing it multiple times while looking in her eyes sincerely.

"I'm glad you know that you already took my heart for granted and left me broken. But now, I finally found my happiness again, you want to take that away from me too? Just so you'd feel satisfied with yourself for getting the girl again?" She pulls away.

"Thanks, I'm flattered but even if I was single, I wouldn't dare give you another chance regardless if you are Harry Styles. I don't care if you can give me the world or anything I want because all I needed was for you to love, trust, and be honest with me." She takes hold of her bag strap blindly, holding her coffee cup in hand and standing up. "You didn't give me any of those,"

Harry stands as well, not prepared to lose her once more. "But I can now! I'll love you so much and I will give every ounce of it out of my body. If that's what you want, I'll do it. Just please,"

"Can't you see, H? I'm happy with Alan now. I've moved on, forgotten about you. For god's sake, I'm getting married!"

Each word she darted out of her mouth was like a gunshot to Harry. Wounds getting deeper and his body feeling heavier than usual, the emotional toll it was giving him was too much for him to handle

"Please. Do the same for yourself. I may not love you the way I did before, but I still care about you," Y/N states gently to Harry. If anything she sees him as a friend, still cares for his well-being. From the short distance, she sees a few girls whispering to each other and pointing at him, obviously recognizing his stance and demeanor.

"But I love you, Y/N! Isn't that enough?"

She only smiles at him before shaking her head, "Sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes you have to act on it, and sometimes cheating isn’t a great way to prove that.”

“I hope she was worth it.”

And before he could fire back at a chance to defend himself, the group of girls approaches him suddenly, catching him off guard.

He could hear them requesting to sign their phone cases, could hear the shutter of their phone cameras capturing his dumbfounded face, could hear them chattering about his work and he could hear them praise him for all the things he wasn't. Even with the roar of his crowd performances echoing how much they loved him, nothing beats Y/N's soft voice voicing out an, "I love you, Harry" He feels one girl shake his arm, usually he'd politely ask them to not touch him but at the moment he felt numb.

Because a few meters away, he witnesses Alan and Y/N walking towards each other with the brightest smile on their faces. Greeting each other with a hug, everything about them screamed being in love. Like Harry was, except the girl he adored was loving another man. What hurts the most–when they kissed each others' lips tenderly and his mind plays tricks on him, envisioning that he was the guy that Y/N was with except it flicks back to reality much too soon than he’d like it to be.

His imagination is proof of what could've been him and Y/N spending the rest of their lives together but of course, he’d mess that future up. He stands there wishing he could turn back time, praying to whoever it is up there that could help him find love again. Because his heart continuously breaks seeing her be happy with somebody else.

——- If you like it, shoot me a message If you don’t, pretend you do requests are open!

#harry styles angst #harry #harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles writing #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles cheating #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry writings #my writing #angst #cheating

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e1ana · 4 years

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leisure writing :)

recently by brain has been all AHHHHHHDHHBSGDVJHS BCHJNNH and its really negatively impacted my writing, especially for my fics :(

i’ve decided to go on a short hiatus for them for a bit to let my brain catch up. i’ve just been writing random stuff and letting it go in a n y direction to give my brain break and i think??? this might??? be the best?????? decision ive ever made????? my brain just feels so un-fried. its awesome.

so far it seems to be taking the shape of a YoI fic? idk. I just finished the show for the second time and i absolutely love it! I guess by brain’s been wired on Yuri!!! for a bit now so i’m not surprised at the direction its headed.

i’m still letting it go in any direction though, and i’m not sure if im going to put it up in a03 (i might if i decide i like it, but im not working on it with the intent of uploading it.)

so yeah. here’s the first bit of that. i though i’d upload it on here just bc i can and idk what else to do with it. hope you enjoy :) rating is teen bc of some cursing but thats it

(korkad means stupid in swedish)

Rain.

It wasn’t a loud sound - just the gentle pitter-patter of it against a window can paint a room in a quiet, soothing blanket of white noise. Viktor Nikiforov buries himself further in his comforter. Mid April drizzles really were something else.

Begrudgingly, VIktor pulls himself from his bed. He looks out of his beside window to find a sunset that perfectly matched with the serene morning rain.

He yawns and stretches, a soft grumble coming from his lips. He stands up and walks to his kitchen. Every morning is practically the same - wake up, debate going back to sleep, brush teeth/expensive and extensive skincare, eat, and go straight to the rink. Getting up at 7 am might sound overkill, but the lax speed of Viktor’s early morning routine needs extra breathing room.

He drags a hand full of some kind of sweet smelling lotion down his face, massaging it in with the melting pot of other creams and serums. The concoction is thick on his face, though not totally unpleasant. Viktor feels a bit more invigorated now, the cold water startling him up. Nevertheless, he starts the coffee machine. He swings his legs as he sits atop the counter and scrolls through his instagram. A sharp pinch on the cheek startled him from his trance.

“I told you to stop sitting on the counter, korkad. Nobody wants to cook on your ass juice.”

Ah, the overlooked step to the routine - cope with an insufferable roomate at ‘too early’ am.

“Good morning, Chris. I hope you slept well.”

Maybe insufferable wasn’t the right word for Chris normally, but his unrivalled snark and Viktor’s early morning sluggishness were not a fantastic mix. Chris grabs him by the sweatshirt and nearly yanks him off of the marble tabletop. He makes a show of wiping the area where Viktors butt once was. Finally, the sweet sound of gurgling and spluttering signifies the end of the coffee maker’s cycle.

Viktor pours in a fairly reasonable amount of sweetened cream, the dark brown going caramel colored and scented. He takes a long gulp, downing half the mug in one go. He looks up at Chris, who is now leaning against counter one on arm and glaring. He offers a smile at the glowering man.

“Okay, now you can be a sassy bitch.”

Chris rolls up the towel and flicks it at Viktor’s butt, drawing an undignified squeak from the slightly shorter man. He snorts a laugh, but thankfully gives Viktor his space for the rest of the morning.

He finishes the rest of his coffee quickly, the caffeine already buzzing through his brain. He checks his watch - nearly time to leave. He packs a few protein bars and water bottles along with his sweets and shirt. He calls out to Chris before grabbing his keys and locking the door.

He pulls his sweatshirt hood a little tighter around his face, slipping into his freezing cold car. He clicked on the heat, despising how long it took for the damn thing to heat up.

The drive to the rink was slow today. He wasn’t in any rush, and the slow rain hitting the metal roof of his car made for a nice serenade. He watched the outside pass by slowly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel absentmindedly.

When he pulled up to the rink, he noticed two things. One, it was bustling with activity. Usually, the place looked practically deserted at nine in the morning. The swarms of people and clicking cameras were an odd sight.

Two, a man stands outside of the rink, wringing his wrists. He bites his lips and looks impossibly nervous. He blinks a couple of times before waving his hands frantically at one of the reporters. Viktor can’t help but laugh out loud in the solitude of his car. He pulls into the driveway, eyeing the dark haired man the whole time.

He’s vaguely familiar - Viktor’s sure he’s seen those blue framed glasses sitting on some side bench at some competition somewhere. He isn’t unattractive either. His black hair and brown eyes contrast with the pale skin of his babyish face. It gives him a look of purity. It’s a nice look. Admittedly, it’s aided by the ample blush on his cheeks and the way he rocks from foot to foot nervously. It’s a very cute habit, Viktor’s always thought.

Victor steps out of his car. Maybe he slams his car door a little louder than normal to make some of the reporters turn their heads, maybe he doesn’t. Regardless, they’re hounding on him in seconds, asking about this jump and that score. He answers all of their questions with a blinding smile, hoping that his glance towards the man goes unnoticed. Well, rather, where the man was. The glass door swings violently and Viktor catches his bag disappearing around a corner.

It takes longer than Viktor would've liked to get rid of the reporters and slip into the rink. His tight routine is now skewed fifteen minutes late. He stretches quickly and laces up his skates as quickly as possible to increase his time on the ice.

He approaches the entrance gate, one foot already on the ice when something whirrs by him. His gaze is captured by none other than the man who was stood outside.

Immediately, Viktor becomes enraptured with him. All he's doing is skating around the perimeter of the rink. Somehow, though, the swinging strides of his legs and the way his arms lift ever so slightly from the elbows when he glides paint him in the picture of grace. Viktor can’t help but stare as he completes another circle. Finally, when the man passes him a third time, he turns to look at Viktor. The grey haired man’s cheeks heat up under his unsettled gaze.

“Do you need some-”

Red creeps up the neck of the other man, his eyes widening when he realized who he’s talking to. He spins back around and pushes off even faster than before.

Viktor steps onto the ice, heart pounding. Fuck. Fuuuck. He internally moans at the increasing awkwardness in the air. Damn his annoying fame and prestige! Here he was, embarrassing himself in front of someone he vaguely remembered who could potentially be important and was definitely attractive. Embarrassing himself just by existing.

Whatever. He flicks his ankle out, starting a slow circle around the rink. If an onlooker glaneed over, it might look like the other man was chasing him. Though it was practically the other way around, Viktor considered.

Eventually, Viktor felt warm enough to do some actual exercises. A few combination spins, a few brackets. Nothing obscene. He starts his program once he feels his joints ease into the jumps.

The feeling isn't the same as the first time he did the program. Victory - it was the theme of his piece. Clearly, it’d gotten him where he wanted the first few times. The thrill of first place was incredible. It inspired him so much, the feeling of winning pushing forth his every movement. It had felt so overwhelmingly good. Now, after his fifth medal, the program didn’t mean much. His publicist had pushed him to do the same program every year, if not with a few major improvements each time.

Regardless of how many new spins or complicated jumps he added, the piece was tired. He was bored of this. There was simply no other way to put it. Even as he landed the perfectly executed triple axle that had been worked into his program, Viktor felt his heart sag.

He ran through the program a few more times, each with decreasing vigor. He didn’t even notice the man skate by him (albeit with a wide berth) and exit the rink. Drenched in sweat and disappointment, Viktor literally laid down on the ice. Maybe it wasn’t the most professional move in the book, but the freezing cold felt good on his hot skin. He hummed and got back to his feet, skating one last cool down lap before exiting and sliding on his blade covers.

He took a cold shower. Unusual, but the weight of the day didn't seem like it could just be melted away. He closed his eyes, letting the freezing water run down his body. It soothes is aching muscles and bones. Technically, the hot alternative would be better at melting away the lactic acid in his muscles. He could have a long soak in the tub when he got home, though - the temporary relief of cold water was more than satisfactory for now.

He stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips. The cool air inside of the building almost felt warm in contrast to Viktor’s cold skin. He pulled on a new shirt and pants.

Viktor was surprised to see the other man slinging his bag over his shoulder. He didn’t appear to see the higher ranking skater, ad he sidled to the door without a second glance. Before he stepped out, though, he turned and froze.

“I… uh…” he paused and looked up, searching for the right words. “I wanted to thank you for earlier. You know. With the reporters. So, uh. Thanks.”

Before Viktor could pipe back with a cheery ‘no problem’ or ‘the pleasure's all mine, tell me your name and let me take you for a drink in my very expensive sports car,’ the man was gone. Viktor followed suit as fast as he could, but there was no catching the man now. Gone, forever.

#e1ana's fic #my writing #ah my brain #yoi fanfic #victuuri #viktor and chris are besties and flirt ode #and thats on period #original concept #yuri on ice #ok im done tagging now >:)

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your-iron-lung · 5 years

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The Unsolved Chapter

aka, the crossover absolutely no one asked for; also available to read on AO3

Story Synopsis: While investigating what remains of the infamous Léry’s Memorial Institute for their popular channel, two Youtube celebrity ghost hunters go missing overnight, vanishing in a freak occurrence that has decided to lay claim to their souls.

While the world they were abruptly taken from grieves their absences and tries to figure out what befell the beloved comical duo, Ryan and Shane struggle to make sense of the new, terrible and violent reality they've woken up in. Drawn to a campfire that never seems to burn out, they meet others who have been condemned to the same, eternal fate and are forcibly taught how to survive in an attempt to keep their collective hope and souls alive.

Part 1 of 5

Chapter Word Count: 6031

Pairings: None; just a genfic

Genre: Survival Horror/Supernatural/Angst-y

Next Chapter: Part Two

Notes: uhh yep, here it is, a buzzfeed unsolved/dead by daylight crossover fic bc once i started to think about it, i couldnt stop. there will be temporary character death, lil bits of gore, and a fair amount of blood and violence in the story, just not in this installment. careful if you click the embedded link, as it might be loud

---------

‘Sometimes human places, create inhuman monsters.’ Stephen King, The Shining

Léry’s Memorial Institute was probably the filthiest building Shane had ever stepped foot in, which, when you took into account just how many foul, decrepit locations he’d been to in the past, was really saying something. The building itself was beautiful in its own haunting way, as most older buildings often were, but Léry’s took the definition of ruined to a new extreme he’d yet to see before now. It was an architectural thing of beauty to be sure, but the grit and grime that covered the entirety of the stonework did manage to dampen his enthusiasm for exploring the dilapidated structure.

And he had been excited for it, originally; a chance to fly back to Illinois to shoot the season finale of Unsolved on his home turf had been generally appealing, even if he hadn’t heard of Michaelstown or Léry’s before. But then they’d all gotten their first look at the Institute, looming horribly tall over the long horizon of pines as they drove up to it from the bumpy dirt road, and he felt all his excitement leave his body in an instant, evaporating like a cold drop of water on hot asphalt.

The silhouette had been menacing and boxy, regal in an old fashioned way that modern constructions had abandoned in favor of more modern designs. It was, perhaps, one of the most imposing feats of architecture he’d ever laid eyes on; it certainly ranked up there with Waverly in his mind, and perhaps that was why he felt so inexplicably nervous as he’d looked at it. Rather than dwell on it, he compartmentalized his anxiety away in his brain and turned to make a comment about how spooky the hospital was to Ryan, but whatever effects looking at the building had had on him appeared to have hit his co-host three times as hard; Ryan’s brain already looked like it was melting, an expression of mute terror written plainly across his face.

Shane couldn’t fault him for that, considering his own momentary scare, and was actually grateful for his silence. If Ryan had pressed him for a comment on whether or not he thought Léry’s was haunted in that moment, then Shane might’ve reluctantly admitted that, in the event that ghosts were real, he wouldn’t be surprised to find a few here, but Ryan had been too horror-stricken to ask. In all actuality, no one on the team had been up for much conversation after that first initial glimpse, an uneasy vibe settling into all of them as they parked. They had all taken a moment to appreciate how terribly ominous it looked against the backdrop of a sunset red sky before TJ ushered them into their usual business routine, unpacking their equipment and getting their bodycams set up.

“Man, I feel like Jack Torrance walking into the Overlook here. This building feels downright predatory, man,” Ryan said, voice already shaking with nervousness.

Evening was falling fast upon them as they shuffled around in the entrance hall, carefully avoiding the large panes of broken glass and other debris that littered the floor. The layer of dust on the ground was so thick, distinct footprints could be seen as clear as though they’d been walking through snow, their tracks leading around in circles as they got their first look at the interior.

Shane hummed a noncommittal response as he shined his camera light around, disgusted by the amount of dust on the floor and in the air; if he were an asthmatic, he’d probably have run through several inhalers just from walking in.

“So tell me what I’m looking at here, Ryan; what’s the history behind this magnificent pile of rubble?” Shane asked as he nudged a thick piece of wood with the toe of his boot.

They would cover most of the history of Léry’s Memorial Institute in the voice over, but that wouldn’t be done until they got back to California and Ryan had yet to tell him much about the place. Keeping Shane in the dark about the past of some the places they went to was a good way to get genuine reactions out of him, but he felt that if they didn’t start bantering soon then Ryan would lose whatever was left of his poor, impressionable mind.

“I feel really weird,” Ryan said instead of answering, glancing around the area with wide, uncertain eyes. “There’s like, some kind of an energy in the air in here; do you feel it?”

“No,” Shane replied calmly, though that wasn’t entirely true. He could feel something akin to static in the air around them, but he didn’t register that as a supernatural phenomenon. The air felt charged in a way that reminded him more of an impending thunderstorm getting ready to unburden itself than it did of something unearthly. “It is a little chilly, though; probably should’ve worn more layers.”

“Good Christ, I hate it here already.” Ryan shuddered and rubbed at one of his arms as he turned to look down the dark hallway that lead further in. “Right, so. Léry’s. I couldn’t find any information on who the original owners were, or who built it, but I did find out that the original building was built sometime in the 1800’s.”

“This isn’t the original?”

Ryan shook his head and reluctantly took the lead in guiding them down the long, narrow hallway, adjusting the straps of his bodycam rig subconsciously as he went.

“Well, yes and no,” he said, stopping every few steps to shine his light and camera into any rooms they happened to pass. “The original building was just a really big mansion the owners lived in before they donated their land to the government; all this hospital space was added onto it during the Korean War to help rehab returning vets.”

“This is one hell of a remodeling job; the Property Brothers would be proud with how many square feet they managed to pump into this thing,” Shane remarked, grinning a little when Ryan let out a slight laugh. “So, army hospital?”

“Yep, up until the CIA took possession of it in the 60’s, and that’s where all my research brought me to dead ends. I couldn’t find what they wanted it for or what they did with it after they got it, but boy, the conspiracy theories run wild with this one.” He turned to flash Shane a conspiratory grin.

“Are you gonna use the voice on me?” Shane asked with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t lay it on too thick now; save some for the voice over.”

“Some say that the CIA turned Léry’s into a black site in order to perfect ‘information gathering’ techniques they’d wanted to put into practice during the war,” Ryan began, easily slipping into the professional tone of voice he used for narrations. The familiarity with which he spoke seemed to restore some of his confidence as they continued down the hall, as he no longer seemed to shrink away from the darkness surrounding them. “They reportedly hired a large number of staff to run the medical facility, but no records of anyone working here exist- at least to the public-, though there are rumors of one particular doctor who was well known for his sadistic use of electro-convulsive shock ‘treatments’.”

“Torture, you mean,” Shane said, shining his light into a room of indeterminate purpose. Ahead of him, Ryan nodded in affirmation. “Great, a secret torture hospital. I’m sure you’ll get a lot of angry, resentful ghosts to talk to here.”

Ignoring his comment, Ryan continued his monologue, clearly having spent time rehearsing it. “Supposedly. As the rumors go, they began implementing experimental interrogation methods on American citizens first before moving on to actual spies, and oh- oh my god, that’s a fucking big rat,” Ryan sputtered, his Unsolved voice breaking as he skipped back down the hall and almost knocked into Shane, who barely managed to sidestep his panicked retreat.

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he put an arm to Ryan’s shoulder to steady him before stepping ahead of him, shining his camera light into what looked to be a large reception area. It was wide and spacious, full of dark corners with plenty of dust and run down furniture covered in graffiti. The rat Ryan had stumbled upon was underneath one of the waiting room benches, turned over on its side and very clearly dead, though it was exceptionally large.

They stared at it together contemplatively for a moment before Shane said, “I gotta tell you, Ry, that I am not at all thrilled about spending the night here. I think I might ask my mom to call your mom to tell you I can’t come to your little sleepover.”

From behind, they could hear Mark laugh before stepping into the room, aiming the lens of his camera at the rat for a dramatic close-up they could potentially use to promote the episode.

“That’s disgusting, don’t film that,” Devon said, clicking her tongue in disapproval as she placed her hand in front of the camera lens until Mark lowered it off his shoulder. “This place is foul; I can’t say I envy you boys for staying here one bit.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Ryan muttered. “Hell, I might cancel the sleepover myself, no moms involved.”

“You can’t, you already walked out of one overnight this season,” TJ cut in, to which Ryan responded with a quietly spoken ‘fuck’ under his breath. “Let’s just start filming, yeah? The sooner we get this done, the sooner morning will come, the sooner you can leave. Now, where do you think you’re gonna want the static cams set up?” TJ asked as Mark held up the bags he’d carried in with them.

Against Devon’s wishes, they decided to film the intro for the episode in the lobby with the dead rat, the compromise being that Shane and Ryan had to sit on opposite sides of the hallway that lead back the way they’d come so that the rodent’s body wouldn’t make it into the final shot. This was agreeable to all of them, but as Shane sat there, waiting for the camera to start rolling, he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering back to its corpse occasionally, trying to deduce what it could have died from.

They tried to film with what little natural light they had left, but the sun had already been sinking when they’d arrived. Whatever light it managed to provide ended up fading away too fast for them to effectively use, eventually prompting TJ to insist on bringing in big, bright lights so they weren’t stuck filming in the dark. As Shane squinted into the newfound light source, his eyes adjusting poorly to the brightness, he managed to get a better look at the room they were set up in.

Based on his own opinion and how little he actually knew about Léry’s, it certainly didn’t look like the kind of place run by a malicious, CIA sanctioned group of sadists; to him, it looked like a hospital, plain and simple. The white paint along the walls was cracked and peeling, revealing discoloured splotches of drywall that furthered the eerie, run-down atmosphere the building had as a whole. Regardless of that and the dead rat, there was nothing in the general vicinity that implied Léry’s might have been used for something as sinister as torture- they even had what looked to be remnants of vintage motivational posters decaying behind the reception desk. Despite how foreboding the building had looked from the outside, inside it both looked and felt normal, which made him wonder again about where his original discomfort upon viewing the building might have derived from.

“This week on the season finale of Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural, we’re investigating Léry’s Memorial Institute in Michaelstown, Illinois as a part of our ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?”

Hearing Ryan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. Unaware that they’d begun the segment, Shane turned to look at the camera Mark was holding and shook his head curtly on cue. The motion was well-practiced and concise, even if he was still squinting because of the lights.

He waited patiently as Ryan spoke of what he knew about Léry’s alleged history, repeating a lot of what he’d already mentioned to Shane earlier for the official intro. He went more in depth as he talked about the history of the building to the camera than he did with Shane, adding on some embellishments about the various conspiracy theories he’d dug up that involved what the staff at Léry’s might’ve been up to, and none of it sounded good.

“Léry’s was condemned and abandoned in 1983, and was even rumored to have been burnt down, but as you can see, since we are currently sitting inside the building, that clearly isn’t the case,” Ryan recited, shooting Shane a look that invited him in to begin a banter.

“Ryan, I swear to God if you’re trying to tell me that the building itself is a ghost, I will resign.” Shane forced his face into a serious expression that matched his disapproving tone of voice as Ryan laughed loudly. “You can get Brent back to be your new ‘ghoulfriend’ and you can just- the two of you can just run around these spooky places like a couple of headless chickens screaming about ghosts together.”

“No, that’s- that’s not what I’m saying,” Ryan said, a humorous inflection tinging his voice as he spoke. “What I’m saying is, is that someone either lied to cover up any potential future investigations into Léry’s alleged operations, or someone got it wrong; either way, Léry’s is still here.”

“And how’d you come to find that out?” Shane asked, honestly interested in Ryan’s answer. His friend had already admitted that researching the place had been hard and often netted him no real answers; if any and all official documentations surrounding Léry’s said it was no longer standing, then he wondered how Ryan was able to discover that it actually was.

“I looked up the coordinates on Google’s satellite image maps.” Shane raised his eyebrows at that, and Ryan shrugged in response. “There was a building here, and when I compared it to old images of the Memorial Institute I’d found dated pre 1980’s, they seemed to match. When I reached out to the current property owners, they agreed to let us look around as long as we didn’t try to ‘solve’ anything.”

“We never do,” Shane said wistfully, dramatically looking away for a moment, and again Ryan laughed, the sound of it echoing around the walls of the room.

“Alright, whatever, big guy; we can do all the ghost hunting we want, they said, but we have to let the sleeping dogs lie on whether or not Léry’s has a ‘tortured’ past or not; they don’t want any trouble with the government.” Ryan looked amused by his own pun, but Shane knew that his ability to find humour in little things like that wouldn’t last the night.

“Well, let’s get started then, shall we?” Shane said, slapping his hands to his thighs and beginning to feel his eagerness returning to him. He started to stand up, and Ryan sighed.

“Yeah, fuck, let’s- let’s get into it.”

“Is there anyone here with us right now?” Ryan spoke loudly and clearly as he addressed the spirit box, glancing around the room they were standing in cautiously as he held the small radio up between them. There was an overturned examination table and some rusted chairs in the room with them that Shane had initially tried to sit in, but found them too unstable to support him. “If there is, we’d really like to talk with you. My name’s Ryan, and my unnecessarily large friend here is Shane; I know he’s a little frightening to look at, but can you say either of our names?”

They waited for a response, Ryan pensively shifting his eyes around as though he might see a ghost hiding behind the old furniture while Shane did his best to not let his boredom show on camera. He waited silently for a moment, letting the spirit box spit out jumbled radio frequencies and broken fragments of words for Ryan to analyze later before deciding to chime in.

“Did you ever stop to think that the spirit box might be triggering these spirits you’re trying to contact?” he asked, voice drawling as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. “If that doctor you mentioned earlier really did exist, then don’t you think it stands to reason that the static from the box might be traumatizing them? Torturing them in their afterlife? Maybe that’s why they don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re just saying that because it tortures you,” Ryan said, snickering. He opened his mouth to say something else in support of his use of the spirit box, but was hushed when it began to pick up an unusual, garbled sort of noise.

If Shane hadn’t been accustomed to the usual tones of static the spirit box produced as it skipped through radio frequencies, he would have chalked the sound that was coming through the speaker now as typical spirit box sounds, but innately he knew that it wasn’t. Whatever was coming through the radio now was different, in that it had cut through the previous channel of static to effectively broadcast the new sound.

He could tell from the stunned reaction on Ryan’s face that he, too, recognized the sound as something unusual. This wet, static noise that was coming through the receiver had been unheard by either of them before.

Ryan turned his head to look up at Shane, any trace of amusement he’d been displaying before now gone as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Before either of them could properly process what they were listening to, the sound slowly tapered off into silence.

Shane stared at the box in Ryan’s hand, waiting for the usual sounds of static to come back through the speaker so he could explain the phenomenon away as some sort of malfunction. He was preemptively formulating a response to the questions Ryan was sure to start asking when the whispering began.

The voice was low and quiet, possibly male, and managed to speak uninterrupted for more than a few consecutive seconds. Shane felt his skin break out into goosebumps as he listened, leaning forward to try and get a better understanding of what was being said even as Ryan recoiled, almost dropping the spirit box in his fright.

If the voice was whispering in any known language, Shane didn’t recognize it; the words registered as garbled, barely distinguishable nonsense to his ears, but the tone with which it spoke, intent and persistent, had his hair beginning to stand on end. Everyone in the room was hushed, although Ryan was beginning to hyperventilate, his breath coming in fast, wheezing gulps. His hand was visibly trembling, but he resolutely did not drop or set the spirit box down, a small act of bravery Shane admired him for.

They didn’t have long to focus on what the voice was saying before a loud, burst of static tore out of the speaker, ending the strange noises abruptly and causing Ryan to shout in surprise. Shane blinked solemnly at the little box as it returned to flickering through regular radio channels before he met Ryan’s stupefied gaze.

“What the fuck just happened,” Ryan gasped out, quickly turning the box off and setting it aside to deal with his minor anxiety attack.

No one had an immediate answer.

“Did anyone recognize what it was saying?” Devon asked timidly. “Not trying to be an alarmist here, but that… didn’t sound human to me.”

Ryan moaned at the implication and sat down hard on the floor, uncaring of how dirty it was.

“Look, let’s just all calm down and take a minute to think about it logically,” Shane said, attempting to take control of the situation in order to soothe his companion’s panic, but he didn’t feel calm himself. His heart was thudding away rapidly in his chest, though he told himself that it was due in part to being taken off guard by the loud outburst of static that came through at the end of the transmission. “Do you know every earthly language that exists?” he asked Devon, who shook her head reluctantly. He repeated the question to Mark and TJ before directing it to Ryan, and all their answers were the same. “Neither do I; just because it spoke in a language we can’t immediately identify doesn’t mean it wasn’t human. Have we all forgotten we’re in an old, ex-governmental building that was run by the fucking CIA? The box probably just latched onto an old numbers station or something.

“And anyway, I’d expect you to be more excited about this, little guy,” he said gently to Ryan, trying to encourage a positive reaction out of him. “We caught all that on film, buddy.”

From the floor, Ryan had stopped his rapid breathing as he processed Shane’s line of reasoning. He still looked frightened, but his expression also seemed more speculative after listening to Shane deliver his cowboy speech. When Shane reached a hand down to help him up, Ryan took it.

“You’re right. We have evidence,” Ryan said slowly as he rose back to full height, his eyes lighting up as he clasped Shane’s hand tightly to his chest.

Shane winced and tried to pull his hand free, but the clammy grip with which Ryan held to it was strong. “It could be any number of things before it could be ghosts, Ryan, you know that.”

“But if it’s not any of those other things, then it- it’s real! We have actual, recorded evidence! Léry’s Memorial Institute is certified haunted, baby!”

He let go of Shane’s hand at last, his fear momentarily forgotten as he did a quick dance, pumping his fist up and down into the air in a celebratory fashion. Mark trained the camera on him to capture the moment, swapping from Ryan’s joyful expression to Shane’s look of bewildered amusement. Devon looked on with a congratulatory smile until TJ eventually spoke.

“You… do realize you still have to stay the night here, right?” TJ said somberly, knowing that what he had to say would was going to affect Ryan negatively, and already they could all see the impact his words had on him as he stopped dancing. “I’m happy for you and all, but don’t forget we have a whole episode left to shoot.” Fresh horror dawned on Ryan’s face, his excitement over finding proof of the supernatural immediately dying out when he realized it didn’t absolve him from fulfilling the rest of his contractual obligations.

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” he said with a groan, his shoulders slumping at the remembered thought. He brought his hands to his face and dragged his fingers down, pulling at his skin. “Ohh, fuck, you’re right. Shit.”

“Certified haunted, baby,” Shane teased with a weak grin, knowing already that it was going to be a long, sleepless night for the both of them.

They explored the area a little further after the incident with the spirit box, but didn’t manage to capture or illicit any other supernatural responses to their presence, though not for lack of trying. Everywhere they went, Shane demanded that the ghosts repeat the strange audio they’d managed to capture before and called them out on their cowardice when nothing happened. Ryan grew increasingly upset with his behaviour, but Shane was out to prove a point: whatever they’d discovered through the use of the spirit box wasn’t something supernatural, and if the spirits weren’t willing to entertain them, then he wasn’t willing to entertain the notion that it could be ghosts.

The logical part of his brain demanded he debunk it immediately, even if it meant he had to poop all over Ryan’s parade in order to do so, and he planned on taking the mightiest shit he could before they wrapped up filming for the night.

Most of the upper floors of Léry’s were condemned and deemed too unsafe for them to explore, barring their ability to scope out the building in its entirety, but the ground floors were plenty big enough to take up hours’ worth of time to investigate.

With Mark and TJ’s help, they set up three static cams where Ryan thought they’d get the most activity: one in the room where they’d gotten the spirit box to communicate with them (with an EVP device they would leave on all night), one in the reception area pointing down the hall they’d entered through, and the final one in a room Ryan had called the ‘treatment theatre’, where they’d decided to bunk down for the night.

It was a circular room with one single, ominous examination table set up in the middle over a system of rusty, grated flooring. A large set-up of outdated lighting systems hung low and broken over it, hanging like an untended widowmaker’s tree waiting to collapse, and for the first time that night Shane wondered if perhaps Ryan’s torture theory might have some truth behind it. Copper stains could be seen leading from the table to the grated floors, and he resolutely decided not to focus on them.

On the floor above them, reached only by a set of stairs set into the back of the room, was a windowed viewing booth that jutted out from the wall. A sense of unease overcame him as Shane looked at it, wondering what the people of the past had need of to stand up there in a room such as this, but he knew in the back of his mind what the answer to that was.

He tried to tuck his discomfort away as he laid out his sleeping bag next to Ryan’s, and wound up unsettling some dust into the air as he smoothed it out and plopped his pillow into place. He grimaced and tried to suppress a cough, but doing so only made the urge to cough worse. Ryan watched him hack whatever he’d inhaled into the crook of his arm, a wry smile of amusement playing at his lips.

“Need some water?” Devon asked, stepping forward with a water bottle already in hand.

Shane took it gratefully and drank until he felt his throat clear up. “Thanks,” he said as he capped it and set the bottle down beside his pillow.

“Should we see you guys out?” Ryan asked as Mark finished adjusting the camera that was set facing their sleeping bags, the red recording light already blinking with purpose.

Mark shrugged as he stood, taking his big shoulder camera back from TJ, who had had been dutifully holding it for him so he didn’t have to set it on the dirty floor.

“Nah, I think we can find our way out on our own,” TJ said as Mark wiped his knees clean of the grime. “I know you’ll probably just bolt if you get anywhere close to the exit anyway, Bergara.”

It was Shane’s turn to smirk as Ryan scowled, knowing that there was definitely some truth in that statement. Ryan had been unusually on edge throughout the rest of their investigation after their incident with the spirit box, and all Shane’s goading had done was make it worse.

“Have a good night, guys,” Devon said, looking uncertain about leaving them alone. She gave a little wave as Mark and TJ each said their goodbyes in turn. “We’ll see you in the morning; be safe, okay?”

“We’ll be fine; what’s the worst that’ll happen? A rat takes a nibble out of one of our ears?” Shane mustered up a smile he hoped looked assuring, but Devon didn’t seem comforted by it.

“The closest hotel we could book is 20 minutes away, but even still, don’t hesitate to call if you need something,” she said, and TJ nodded in affirmation.

“We’ll come as quick as we can,” he said, and Shane wasn’t sure why, but his words left a heavy weight in his stomach.

“Guys, we’ll be fine, this isn’t our first rodeo,” Shane said exasperatedly, and Ryan backed him up with a nod.

“The ghoul boys know how to behave themselves during a spooky sleepover,” he affirmed, but didn’t have the confidence required to back up what he was saying.

Still, Devon looked a little less doubtful and finally relented. She bid them goodnight once more before the three of them took their leave, carrying all the extra equipment Shane and Ryan wouldn’t need away with them to make packing up a little easier in the morning.

None of them knew it would be the last time they ever saw each other.

Shane sat down on his sleeping bag with a slight grunt and listened to their crew’s footsteps receding out of the room and away from them, echoing down the hall ominously. He waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore before he started getting ready for sleep, peeling away the opening of his sleeping bag to tuck his long legs inside.

“And then there were two,” he said rather cheerfully to Ryan as he got comfortable. He was met with a miserable sigh as his co-host begrudgingly slid into his own sleeping bag. He zipped it up promptly and stared up at the ceiling bitterly.

“You say that every time they leave, give it a rest already.”

“But it’s true every time it warrants being said,” Shane replied, drawing his phone out of his pocket and opening up Twitter. “We’re the only two people left in here; anyone else doesn’t exist, and you seem to need reminding of that fairly often.”

Ryan sighed shakily and turned his flashlight off, casting them both into the gloomy darkness, broken only by the glow of Shane’s phone as he scrolled through his social media feed.

“Shane? Are you awake? I’m kinda freaking out hardcore over here, buddy.”

It took a moment for Shane to register that he was being spoken to as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, rolling over in his bag to face where Ryan was laid out. As his vision adjusted to the dark, he could see that Ryan was wide-awake, still staring up at the ceiling where the viewing booth stuck out like a sore thumb.

“What?” Shane asked, his voice heavy and tired, rumbling out of his throat in a low timbre. “Whatsit?”

“I- I can’t sleep,” Ryan admitted, his voice sounding small.

“Surprising absolutely no one,” Shane muttered before yawning loudly and rubbing the crust out of the corners of his eyes; he’d only been just been able to fall asleep before Ryan woke him up.

“Shut up,” Ryan grumbled. “It- I can’t sleep because it feels like- it feels like we’re being watched. I know it’s just the dark, but sometimes I think I can see people up there, looking down at us.”

Shane turned his gaze up to the viewing booth, but couldn’t see anything that looked like what Ryan was worrying about. His eyes did try to force shapes out of the darkness behind the window, but he intrinsically knew that it was just his mind playing tricks on him, trying to get him to see things that weren’t actually there. “There’s no one here but us, Ryan,” he reminded him, turning his attention back to his friend.

“But the voice on the spirit box-”

“-was just a voice,” Shane cut in. “And look, I’ll be honest with you- it was a little jarring, and I’ll admit to being a little unnerved by it myself, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Wh- no! Why would that make me feel better?” Ryan spluttered, finally tearing his eyes away from the booth above them to fix his wide-eyed stare on Shane. “You’re supposed to be my, my grounding rock, my calming spirit; how can you be scared? You’re not allowed to be afraid, I- I’m the one who fears!”

Shane stared at Ryan for one wordless minute before breaking out into a hearty laugh, his voice carrying around the room and making it sound louder than it was.

“Alright, calm down there cowardly Heisenberg; I didn’t say I was scared, just unnerved,” he clarified. His laugh seemed to ease some of Ryan’s worries, as his face cracked into a tentative grin at his words. “It was weird, yes, but nothing else strange happened while we were walking around, did it?”

“No, I guess not,” Ryan admitted, looking a little sheepish now. He contemplated Shane’s words quietly for a moment before he asked, “Do you really think it was just a numbers channel?”

“I think it’s a possibility, yes,” Shane said, picking his words carefully so as not to exacerbate Ryan’s anxieties. He honestly had no idea what it was or what it could be, but he wasn’t anywhere near ready yet to admit that it could’ve had supernatural origins. “We’re in a weird old government hospital; I think the most likely thing to have happened is that our little boxy pal picked up on a weird frequency we weren’t supposed to have access to and gave us a glimpse into something that wasn’t meant for us.”

“Yeah, but, we’re in Illinois,” Ryan began, picking at the zippered hem of his sleeping bag as he put the thoughts he’d been ruminating on into words.

“So? If you’re about to start shit-talking this wholesome state, so help me God, we’re going to have to start exchanging some serious words here.”

“No, that’s not what- Look, Illinois is in America; what possible radio frequency being broadcast here could we have picked up on that doesn’t speak English, or any other spoken American language, or even human?” Ryan asked, gesticulating around them as he spoke.

Shane sighed and rolled onto his back, adjusting his pillow to better support his neck. “You don’t know that it’s not any known human language, Ryan, we established that. It was probably just some kind of a looping cipher the CIA forgot to turn off when they moved out, not some- some demon speaking to us in tongues.”

Beside him, Ryan groaned loudly and quickly withdrew his arms back into his sleeping bag, as though he were afraid that by naming it, one would suddenly appear.

“Please don’t say demon.”

“You just did,” Shane said, unable to keep himself from speaking rather snidely. Ryan shot him a pointed look of annoyance, but he couldn’t help his uncooperative attitude in that moment. He was sleepy, and could feel all the dust they’d been breathing in coagulating deep in his lungs. He was irritated, and he let it show. “Look, Ry, we can discuss this all we want tomorrow, but I am incredibly tired right now. Just… try and get some sleep, okay? We’ll pick this up later.”

“I think we both know that’s not gonna happen,” Ryan muttered, but he mercifully let the issue drop.

Whether or not their conversation had helped or hindered Ryan, Shane couldn’t say. It had been a strange night for both of them, all things considered, and he wanted nothing more than to just be done with it. As he closed his eyes to try and go back to sleep, the last thing Shane would later recall seeing was the darkness taking shape in the form of a face looming behind the window pane of the viewing booth, looking down upon them intently. A strange metallic taste wouldn’t leave his mouth no matter how much water he drank to try and ride himself of it, and although Ryan had forsaken the notion of sleep for himself entirely, he too eventually drifted off unawares.

And that was all it took; by the morning they were gone, taken without a trace, everything they’d brought with them left behind and undisturbed.

#buzzfeed unsolved #ryan bergara #shane madej #dead by daylight #buzzfeed unsolved: supernatural #rpf #supernatural rpf #AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT #remember when i mentioned id fish-flopped into another fandom? it was unsolved

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mysticmikalla · 6 years

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If it's not too much of a problem, could I request a small fic for Saeran? For example him leaving the Mc without saying anything because he still feels insecure about himself and coming back a few years later to make things up only to find out he has a child? I'm sorry for this roller coaster I just want some angst...

You want angst? You got angst!

Ps, this “small” fic ended up getting quite long bc I got a bit carried away lolol

Pss, shoutout to my girl dahlia for helping me overcome my writer’s block and giving me tons of inspo♥️

Psss; this is the first piece i publish that im nervous about so pls bare with me as i edit and rewrite this over and over lol

***

The mind of Saeran Choi was a hectic place.

Thousand of paradoxical thoughts and fears circled in his head, clashing and colliding into each other, taking form of his worst nightmares or most desired daydreams. It was a never-ending battle for dominance over the boy’s emotions between hope and despair. He’d take several pills for his intense headaches just so he could rest, and he took them much so that it became routine.

His world had always been dark and fuzzy, people taking form of shapes and noises instead of individuals, making it hard to care for someone, or allow them to care for him. He had shut himself in a world of darkness, despair always winning.

Ah, but then there was you. You were an amber in his ashen world, the moon peaking through clouds on a dense night. You came into his life so unexpectedly, and, in the shortest amount of time, because his most precious. You were his one and only treasure in life, the one who could make him feel normal. Who could make him feel human, rather than two opposite sides fighting for dominance.

You alone were able to silence most of the noise in his head. Most.

Despite popular belief and what you read in romance novels and fairy tales, love couldn’t cure all. It couldn’t magically make all of his life-long scars disappear, no matter how much he wished it.

Which is why he left, why he felt like he needed to leave with nothing but a light kiss on your forehead as you slept a note where he scribbled a quick ‘I’m sorry’.

With only a small bag of his belonging and a heart full of hurt, Saeran Choi disappeared from your life.

Your breath was knocked out of your body as the realization that he left, that he left you all alone and wouldn’t come back. Your body shook with broken sobs, your mind raced and hurt with unanswered questions, and your heart broke with what you thought was unrequited love

A tear-stained face became your norm for weeks, the cold space in bed beside you and the loneliness the absence of the love of your life becoming too much for you to bear.

After a few weeks, you started feeling sick in the morning and your cycle was unusually late, the ground of your stability started shaking, and when the little plus sign on the pregnancy test confirmed your fears, it sunk all together.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this alone. You could barely manage to pull yourself together after Saeran left, how were you supposed to take care of a child?

You begged his twin brother to locate him and bring him home, to at least find out if he was okay. You were a mess, thoughts running wild with worst case scenarios of Saeran being hurt, of you never being able to find him again.

Saeyoung was reluctant at first, knowing that his brother must have had a good reason for leaving you, the one he loved the most, behind.

But after you told him about the baby, the red-headed hacker felt like he had no choice but to tell his brother about him. He could see the deep circles underneath your eyes and how your skin was paler than usual, and he felt as if owed it to you , in behalf of his brother, to help.

It was an old feud, hacker versus hacker, in which Saeran always won. He hid his traces and whereabouts so well, it was as if he never existed. In your insomniac nights filled with delirium, you wondered if he ever did exist in the first place.

Weeks became months, and months became years without him by your side. You desperately tried to recall what his voice sounded like, what his touch felt like against your skin. The galloping of your heart whenever you kissed him was now nothing but a distant memory, a foreign feeling. The only reason you still remembered his face was because of his twin brother who was there to keep you grounded.

Thoughts of him, which before occupied your mind every second of the day, became more scarce as the years went by, until they were a rarity. Your daily life went on, and you couldn’t waste time wondering about your former lover, not when taking care of your child came first.

With Saeyoung and the rest of the RFA supporting you, for the first time in a while you felt as if you weren’t alone.

***

Saeran’s heart pounded against his chest, so aggressively he though he’d might pass out before he reached for the doorknob of your previously shared home. How long had it been? He couldn’t recall at the moment. If felt like only seconds since he had last been here, but the agonizing longing in his chest made it seem like a millennia all at once.

He debated on whether to just open the door and walk right in like nothing had happened, or to ring the door bell and wait outside like a stranger would.

He settled for the latter, hearing the all too familiar bell echo throughout the house. When he heard footsteps coming closer, he felt as if he would collapse. He had dreamed about this moment for the past three years, and now that it finally arrived, he wondered whether or not he could handle to mixture of excitement and nervousness in his chest.

“Coming!” Nothing had ever sounded so melodic as that one word he heard your voice say through the closed door. The longing on his chest was suddenly so unbearable, he had to hold on to the door frame for support.

The door swung open, and his heart stopped.

There you stood. You were already in your pajamas, getting ready for the night. He noted your hair was different, and you looked thinner than you had before. He wanted to embrace you as soon as he saw you before him, but he restrained himself.

How would you react, he worried.

With widened eyes, you took the sight of Saeran in. You could almost mistake him for his brothe now, as his hair, which previously had been bleached white, was now bright red. It was also the first time you saw him without his blue contacts, his amber eyes bright and burning.

“Sa-Saeran?” You sputtered in disbelief. It was you who needed support now, feeling your body grow weak.

“MC,” He breathed, your name rolling off his tongue as if he had been waiting all this time to finally utter it, “I-I’m back.”

Your mind raced to find the right words, to decipher what you were feeling right now at this shocking sight before you, but all you could do was gap at him. The person you loved, dreamed about and ached for all these years stood right in front of you. The man who broke your heart and left you all alone with no explanation was back, and you didn’t know what to feel about it. Rather, you couldn’t just pick one emotion, seeing that you were feeling them all at once.

He couldn’t find the right words, either. He didn’t know how to express how much he missed you, how sorry he was for leaving you alone, how beautiful you looked and how many times he had dreamed of this.

“MC, I think we ran out of diapers, I think I will-” Saeyoung’s voice was cut off at the sight of his brother standing in the doorway. The three of you were frozen in place.

As he took in the sight of the red-headed baby girl in Saeyoung’s arm, Saeran’s jaw dropped and his head spun. He glanced at you, then back at his twin with the girl, and then back at you, incredulous.

Out of all the scenarios he had played out in his head, this was definitely not one of them.

“MC…Is this…” He opened and closed his mouth over and over, unsure of what to say, “You and him…?!”

“Saeran, it’s not-” Saeyoung began, but the boy already fumed, fists clenching beside him.

“You don’t have the right to be angry right now, Saeran.” You finally spoke. They were tranquil and soft, but Saeran felt an intimidating resemblance with a calm before the storm.

He ran a hand messily through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh, telling himself to calm down. But the hurt in his chest wouldn’t allow it. He was already more agitated than he would have like to be on the first time you two met again.

You and Saeyoung? Together? Thoughts of you and him tortured his mind, being close, being intimate, falling in love…

He wanted nothing more than to stick a needle in his ear and poke them all out with his brain. It hadn’t been that long since he left, and all that time you were the only thing in his mind. How could you have moved on so fast? With his twin, of all people?

“Hey, Saeyoung, can you give us a second?” You pleaded to the red-haired man behind you gently. You could tell Saeran was angry and unsettled at his presence.

“Are you sure?” He asked, eyeing you, your daughter and then his twin nervously. What Saeran couldn’t wrap his mind around was why his own brother was trying to protect you, the love of his life, his MC, instead of him. He should be the one protecting you, not him, never him.

He would never hurt you; not before, and especially not now. Not now that he’s come so far and worked so hard to get better. For you. It was all for you.

“I’m sure.” You smiled up at his eyes behind glasses, touching his arm lightly and reassuringly. The small action made Saeran want to throw up. How did it get like this?

Saeyoung left with the baby, and you and Saeran were alone again. You motioned for him to come it, still dazed by his sudden presence. You still didn’t know what to say, no combination of letters and words sufficing to express how you felt.

“MC…” He began, trying to remember what he had rehearsed in his head a thousand times over. He wanted to explain everything, to let you know how sorry he was for leaving and that he missed you. But deep down he knew there was no way to make up for it.

You shook your head, “Why did you come back?”

He knew you were angry. Your furrowed brows, arms crossed and your lips tugging downwards was more than enough to tell him so, but the words still felt like salt in his already wounded heart. He expected you to be at least a bit happy in seeing him after so long, but you only seemed troubled and hurt. Despite the situation and his worried expression, his heart was almost bursting with happiness at seeing you again. It was the happiest moment of the last three years for him, and he was hoping you’d feel the same, at least a little.

“MC, please let me explain-”

“Explain how you left me?”

“I swear I didn’t mean-”

“How you disappeared for three years without a word? How you left me here all alone, with just a fucking note?!” You raised your voice, heat flushing your cheeks as your anger took over. All those sleepless nights came rushing back, your broken sobs echoing in the back of your mind.

“I had to, MC…” He stood across from you, desperately wanting to close the gap between you and have you in his arms again, “I had to leave. For your sake.”

“I don’t understand,” You shuffled backwards, “I don’t understand! How could that have possibly been for my sake?!”

You were angry. You were furious.

Out of all the times you dreamed of meeting him again and confronting him, never did you imagine he would say he did it for you. You almost rolled your eyes, how cliché.

“That’s why I’m trying to explain it to you!” He was getting frustrated at your own frustration, his voice rising up to match yours, “MC, I wasn’t…I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t half the man I knew I could be. You deserved someone who could have given you everything, and I-”

“But you did give me everything! I was happy with you!” You exclaimed, “I loved you, Saeran, why couldn’t you just see that?!”

“But you deserved-”

“It’s up to me to know what I do and don’t deserve,” You objected, “And I know that what I didn’t deserve was being left alone like that. Nobody deserved that.”

“I know, MC…I fucked up. I know now that what I did was wrong,” He steadied himself, lowering his voice again and regaining the composure he tried so hard to achieve, “That’s just proof of how immature and unworthy I was… It’s why I had to leave, I couldn’t drag you down with me. Everyone was right, I couldn’t make you stay by my side and take care of me. It’s not what you wanted, and I was holding you back-”

“But that’s what I meant when I said I loved you! It meant that I’d stay by you through anything and everything. It meant that I would never leave. But you left, and I thought-” You choked on the words, built up pain from these last few years resurfacing, “I thought that when you left, it meant you didn’t love me enough. Not even enough to say goodbye.”

That old, familiar aching in your chest sparked up again, and soon your tears salted your tongue.

“That’s what you thought?” His eyes softened, his chest squeezing at the sight of you so sad

“What else was I supposed to think?”

“MC, I never stopped loving you.” He took a step towards you, attempting to grab the hands he missed so much, but being met with rejection as you backed away.

“You’re lying. If you loved me, walking away shouldn’t have been so easy-”

“Leaving you that day was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Please believe me, MC!” He cried, his eyes desperately searching for yours.

You bit your lip to keep from sobbing, the ache in your chest upsurging with each word he spoke to you.

“You won’t believe me, right?” His body deflated, “I can’t make you understand, not after everything I put you through…But just please answer me this…How long did it take…For you and Saeyoung to get together after I left?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “Huh?”

“How long it it take for you to to move o-on?” His voice broke, and now his own tears stained his cheeks.

“Saeran, I don’t-”

“That girl looks to be around three. How many months did you wait before you replaced me with him?” You expected his tone to be angry when he asked you these things, but they were sad, hurt and empty. Broken. Saeran looked tired and defeated, and for the first time since you saw him again, your facade started to break.

God, it still hurt. The whole in your chest was still there. You were a fool for ever believing anything could ever fill it.

“Sae, please listen to me,” You muttered softly, taking a few steps in his direction, his gazed fixed on the ground in refusal to meet yours, “It took exactly nine months for her to be born after you left. She isn’t Saeyoung’s.”

When he finally met your eyes, they were filled with confusion and…hope?

“W-what?”

You let out a small laugh in between your tears, “She’s yours, Saeran. She’s ours.”

His brain buffered, not quite comprehending the words you had just spoken. He stuttered, trying to formulate words but none would come to mind. He…had a daughter.. With you. The gorgeous red-haired girl he had seen previously is half his, and half the woman he loves. No matter how hard he tried, his brain couldn’t process it.

A child? A daughter? He had a daughter…?

You stepped a bit closer to him, lightly caressing his arms. Your touch brought him back from his momentary daze, and he wished you’d never let go. He could never find the right words to tell you how much he missed your skin on his, “There has never been anybody else, Sae. Just you. It was always you.”

While your words meant Heaven and Earth to one brother, the other listened quietly behind closed doors, his heart stuck on his throat. He was happy, truly, that his twin had come back. He knew how much he meant to you, how you missed him everyday during his absence, even when you refused to admit so.

He knew that empty, far away look in your eye would finally disappear now that he was back, but Saeyoung was hurting with each syllable you uttered.

Despite the girl who slept in his arms not being his, and the woman far from his reach never truly seeing him, he felt happy. He found a family through you, helping you raise your baby and being there when his own brother failed to do so. He was helpless as he felt you two slipping away from him and into the arms of his brother. He felt sad and nostalgic at the thought of not being the one you relied on anymore. He even felt a little bit enraged at how easily Saeran had waltzed in your life again.

Saeyoung knew he shouldn’t be having these thoughts. They were wrong, selfish. The two most important people to him were finally happy, so why wasn’t he?

“MC…I’m sorry, I had no idea…!” Saeran finally spoke, the thought of you, all alone while pregnant with his child haunting his mind. Did you cry often? How many times had you cursed him, wishing none of this had ever happened, probably wishing you had never met him?

How could you possibly still love him after that?

“If I had known you were carrying a child, my child…I would have never…Oh God…” His knees grew weak, and he had to slump back on a chair to keep from sinking to the ground. His heart started racing and hands were shaking. He took a shallow breath at a time, his face buried in his hands.

Not again, he thought, not now.

He couldn’t lose control in front of you now. He wanted to show the person in front of him that he had changed, that we was becoming a better man for you. That all of this had been for something. But right now he felt as if he were back to square one, the fucked up little boy who couldn’t even control his emotions.

You rushed to his side, patting his back gently, comfortingly, “Shh, hey. Sae, look at me, please.”

He shook his head, refusing to meet your eyes, “I understand now. I understand why you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” You cooed, moving your hands up from his back to his hair, stroking it in the way you used to whenever he was upset all those years ago. You had tried convincing yourself that you did, you hated him. You insisted on the thought that he no longer had a place in your heart and you would be fine without him. While these thoughts were comforting to you back then, they were false. “I could never hate you, Sae. And you couldn’t have known.”

“But you were alone. I was so selfish, I’m sorry. You must have been so angry-”

“I was angry, yes,” You sighed, “I was pissed, and I was hurt. You weren’t here when I needed you to be, and it hurt because I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

“MC-”

“But you’re here now,” You went on. The anger that previously clouded your judgement dissipating as soon as you felt his touch again. There still obvious lingering feelings of hurt within you, and they wouldn’t disappear so soon. But they didn’t seem important now.

The man weeping in your arms, the father of your child being back in your life was most important at that moment. Him and Saeyoung being right there with you, as your family, was what you craved the most, and you couldn’t let go of that because of past hurts. There would still be plenty of time to fix what was once broken, to heal what was wounded, but right now you two needed each other. You needed him so desperately it was almost physical, as if your bodies and souls were calling out to each other.

“C-can I see her?” He asked, wiping away at his tears and finally glancing at you.

You smiled reassuringly at him, trying to contain your own tears, “Of course. She’s yours, too.”

Yours. He would never get used to hearing that word.

The redhead finally took the courage to pull you close and wrap you in his arms, the familiarity of the smell of your hair, of the way you clung to his shirt as you hugged him was so overwhelming that a string of tears dropped on your shoulder.

Finally.

“MC…” He breathed through his sobs, “Thank you. I love you, I never stopped. I know I can’t ever make it up to you, but I want to spend the rest of my life trying. So please, if you’ll have me, I’d like to come home. Please,” He cried harder and hugged you tighter, “I want to come home.”

It was hard to talk when your heart was at your throat and your chest bared to him, but you managed to choke out a whisper anyway, “Welcome home, Saeran.”

#request #aaaaa im nervous about this #hope yall like it #mystic messenger #mystic #messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger imagines #mystic messenger scenarios #saeran choi #saeran choi fanfic #mm saeran #mystic messenger fanfiction

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smollandtoll · 6 years

Text

HC: Sid + Anna First (OT3)

So, in a universe in which Anna decides early on in her career that she wants to be a sports journalist, and also decides that if she truly wants to be the top of her career/internationally recognised she’s going to have to go to America and work for ESPN or some other major sports news conglomerate (and we’re definitely not saying that we think that north america is the be all end all for sports in the world because that’s ridiculous but slide along with us here as we have no idea what we’re talking about).

So she studies English, and moves to the states maybe enrolls in college there, starts working her way up. Probably ends up in the metropolitan area (NYC, Philly, Boston, DC), flowing through all the hockey and football and basketball circles for various sporting events, reporting on them.

She and Sid meet through mutual friends.

Maybe after the concussion but before Sochi. Their first date is actually a business meeting, they’re getting coffee to discuss a plan of attack for a profile she’s writing on him probably - he’s wearing all Penguins gear and giving off his best mannequin/robot impression and she’s trying to be 100% hard hitting JOURNALISM. But then they find themselves laughing helplessly at the way Sid spills his coffee and Anna mixes up a word or two (it reminds him of how endearing Geno is probs, he also definitely considers for A HOT MINUTE that he should set G & Anna up maybe).

He probably is deeply interested in how she came to be in the sports business, considering she’s a long way from home and so knowledgeable? Like her looks are one thing, but her SPORTS BRAIN … #sidnerdboner. They’re both super driven, and Anna is smart and funny and sharp as hell, AND she can talk hockey and keep up, and Sid is just like so sincere and a little goofy but also charmingly serious, and they just like each other. They talk for LITERAL HOURS. The coffee shop they’re in probably has to shoo them out when they close and they’re both horrifically embarrassed at how off-track that meeting got when they look around and the place is basically empty.

They both walk away thinking about each other. If he’s honest with himself Anna makes Sid think a lot of Geno. Both tall hot Russian brunettes, smart, funny, take no shit while also giving you shit- and Sid’s definitely been somewhat conditioned to be into Russian accents. He knows how to keep it on the DL in the locker room, but, he’s thought about it. And Anna’s gorgeous, of course he’s thinking about her for a bit there. But, y’know, Sid’s not one to walk away thinking he’s got it in the bag; he probably thinks they just connected well and he’ll hear from her when the article comes out and the little crush will taper off with distance.

So then Sid finds out that Anna has handed off her interview notes with him to someone else in the dept she works with. Sid is completely not there for it, like “But why?! You worked so hard!”

Anna: Can’t be professional and date you. It’s a conflict of interest. Sid: ...date? Anna: Just waiting for you to ask Sid: Oh! Um! For sure.

Sid definitely thought she was out of his league, and maybe would be better off with Geno. Someone more confident and flashy, who knew how to buy her jewels and surprise her with designer shoes and take her on luxury vacations to appreciate her completely aesthetic and not-at-all-practical swimwear. He got a little lost in her instagram one time, SUE HIM HE’S A RED BLOODED MALE AND SHE LOOKS LIKE THAT.

So, he was not prepared for her abrupt interest in him at all...but he likes her too and well, he can’t date Geno...so maybe this is like a healthy middle ground. She reminds him of G so much in addition to everything that’s great about her, and this way he gets the best of both worlds maybe. Y’know, sublimate the one crush into the other.

So then he does ask her out, and they continue to have riveting sports conversations, and Sid appreciates her wicked sense of humour and how familiar she feels. He feels like knowing Geno has been his cheat sheet for knowing Anna, there are things she wants and does and complains about that he’s heard before and has already figured out solutions to, and he’s heard all about Russian women and what they’re into over the years (not that these stereotypes are all true but like, there are cultural differences!).

Sid and Anna are also both SMOKING HOT and have athletic, aesthetically pleasing sex (as much as sex can be aesthetic) that Sid is so INTO BECAUSE HER LEGS NEVER END. He’s so into her natural beauty, her ability to look sexy in one of his oldest hole-iest hoodies and a penguins cap with little to no sleep, face puffy, and her emails open on his breakfast bar. She’s all messy hair and gorgeous tan limbs in his kitchen, and he feels luckier all the time for having her. And Sid - we all know Sid is good boyfriend material; dedicated, honest, funny, hot. Listen, it’s good.

Anna gets along with Sid’s parents, his sister. She definitely gave Taylor hat & hair style advice when dealing with a feminine face that has a strong jawline. She understands EVERYTHING about hockey, including his need for routine or for her to disappear occasionally. His heart stutters when she trash talks baseball players and pinches him after games where he missed easy shots. He loves it, she truly understands and never lets him have an inch. BASICALLY SID IS HEAD OVER HEELS.

Of course he’s super nervous about introducing her to the guys ESPECIALLY GENO. He’s pretty sure everyone is going to tease him about finding female!Geno and Geno is going to have THOUGHTS because he and Anna will have a connection that Sid cannot understand or access. He’s #nervous.

Geno finds out he’s dating a Russian woman and for the most part IMMEDIATELY HEARTILY APPROVES because Russia best. But then you know he starts really pressuring to meet her. Geno and Anna don’t know each other at all in this universe, she was never a Russian media personality and he’s super famous so their paths never really crossed.

When they do meet it’s at some team get together BBQ. Sid’s been taking Anna around and introducing her to all the guys, and even though they all knew about her they’re still drawing some looks because Sid, damn. You can tell just by looking at them how gently smitten they are with each other. G’s obviously one of the first intros bc let’s be real, he hasn’t let it go since he found out and introducing Anna to anyone other than Flower or Tanger or Duper first would definitely earn a fine. They start chatting and there’s a bit of a nervous charge in the air but Geno is nice and says hi in Russian, and they find out they know a bunch of the same people in Moscow. All those weird woodwork mutual friends. And that takes them into a little chat about Moscow and their favourite places there that Sid can’t really contribute to.

Anna just looking back and forth between them and giving Sid searching looks and as they walk away like, “Your friend seems nice! Malkin’s a big name in Russia lately, I wasn’t sure what kind of man he’d be!”

Sid Thinking: Oh god they have so much chemistry Geno Thinking: ...Oh fuck I am SO INTO MY BEST FRIEND'S GIRLFRIEND Anna Thinking: Everyone is so nice! And hot! Zhenya is so tall. Sid is so thicc these boys are #blessed

Anyway just imagine Geno watching Sid and Anna chatting and laughing together, making the rounds. Sid’s arm just super casually around Anna’s waist, both of them laughing with Cath and Tanger. He would be lowkey jealous of them both and confused about why seeing them together makes him feel like shit. He’d go home with images of them together running through his head, Sid thumbing her hip, the way they leaned their heads together when talking, the arch of their throats laughing, the look in their eyes when they looked at each other.

Just imagine all the events and nights out Anna and Geno find themselves chatting amiably in Russian at. Sometimes they get talking about Sid, one of the many things they have in common, about how they met and funny stories about him. Anna telling Geno one time "well, this is just good timing, I've established my career and I'm ready to get married and be a mom?" softly, while gazing fondly over at Sid and licking BBQ sauce off her thumb.

G is just DYING because Sid's got that plan to like not have kids until he retires but LIKE MAYBE SHE'LL CHANGE HIS MIND. BUT SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO, HE SHOULD JUST WANT IT. A woman this perfect longing to carry his children??? He should be so lucky!!

Geno would always slink home a little miserable and lonely and self-pitying - flicking through his phone’s contacts thinking to organize a hookup but being too depressed to even do that. He’d get a little petty and mad the way G gets, “Sid doesn't even really care about getting married, not lonely like me, not that desperate for another person, he'd be fine on his own! It's not fair!” He can’t believe how jealous he is but also just can’t get over it.

(It’s easier too to think he’s just jealous of Sid because Anna is amazing, but sometimes after too many vodka shots he can acknowledge that he thinks about Sid with Anna as much as he thinks about Anna with Sid - in the way you can when you know you’re not going to remember the realisation in the morning)

He'd be so terrible about everything, so unreasonable and so jealous of them both, just in a mood for months. He’s not very good at hiding his own feelings for other people’s good. And Geno’s moods affect every part of his life. Sid would probably try numerous times to ask him what's up, maybe eventually would have to sit him down in both friend and captain capacity and be like, ”G are you mad at me? What’s been going on with you? Your penalty minutes are off the charts.”

He’d keep getting brutally shut down and their relationship has NEVER been off like this. They GREW UP TOGETHER, Sid knew Geno was all bluster usually, but when he sat him down solo he usually cracked open and let Sid scoop out and sort through all his tremendous emotions. But now being shut out like this was painful and threw him for a loop. And of course Anna hears all about it, witnessing all of Sid’s bewildered hurt and confusion.

Then eventually Anna would have ENOUGH and be like "fuck this guy for making you feel like shit and also this is wreaking havoc on both your seasons!!"

Sid: I maybe just fell a little bit more in love with you

So she secretly goes to yell at Geno in a language he'll understand. Anna rocking up to his house and being like "So #1 fuck you, #2 what is your PROBLEM?"

Geno: YOU ARE MY PROBLEM! Anna: you don't like me dating Sid? You think I'm not good enough for him? Geno: NO. THAT'S NOT THE PROBLEM Anna: So you're jealous of him then? Geno: Also no Anna: You're jealous of me then. Geno: NO Anna: SO WHAT IS THE PROBLEM Geno: BOTH. BOTH OF THOSE THINGS.

He might break into big ridiculous angry tears about it, just months of his own bottled up feelings and emotions he hasn’t been able to vent to ANYONE exploding out. Anna just looking at him with wide eyes for a moment before ushering him further into his own home and setting about making some tea.

Is there some comforting arm patting and texting Sid under the table? Maybe. But mostly Geno realizes what’s happening and gets his shit together enough to shoo her out of his house after profuse apologies and promises to get it together and start acting like a professional. Hopefully it’ll give him some time to curl up and lick his wounds and try to actually get his shit together.

But you can’t exactly put that cat back in the bag, and Anna goes back to Sid, who is so earnest and concerned, sits in his impossibly broad lap and asks if he’s ever thought about fucking Geno. They would look at each other in stunned silence for a few beats too long as a flush slowly rises in his cheeks which gives her her answer.

Sid like “I...I thought about setting the two of you up when we first met. You reminded me of him so much, and I couldn’t have him…but I could have you.” Followed by a rush of reassurances that of course he wants her and she’s his priority that she shuts down with a kiss. They maybe sit there like that for a bit with their foreheads together, just thinking about it.

More than fucking then. A relationship. A great love.

She would probably mull it over for a few days, scrolling through Geno’s instagram where he’s displayed his tender beating heart for the entire world to see. He loves animals, and children and his family. He’s not bad looking at all, the sheer size of his hands make her press her thighs together deliciously. She probably consults his birth chart and considers if she could handle two competitive, headstrong Leos, let alone one who is paired with a Tiger’s stubborn ego. She’d think about all the ways it could work, all the things they like about each other, and also about all the ways it could get fucked up and ruin everything. These things are complicated.

In the end she decides it’s not up to her, it’s up to them. So she bullies them into a sit-down with each other, locking them in the yard with enough food and beer to last the afternoon but promising she would only let them in when they’d worked out their problems and feelings and had come to a mutual decision about how to move forward. Neither of them had even known that the other had any feelings or interest like that; there’s a lot to talk about. And when they’re ready, they knock on the patio door so she can come talk too.

Of course the only real option is to move forward is as a triad, and Geno is not nearly noble and self-sacrificing enough to suffer through his own miserable lonely pining future for the sake of preserving a loved one’s relationship like some Canadians we know. So they agree this can work and move forward, and Anna immensely enjoys the addition that Geno makes to the relationship, spoiling them both with the kind of romance that didn’t come naturally to her or Sid, insisting on dinners out and sunny vacation spots. Also he has impeccable taste in lingerie and she enjoys taking him shopping to surprise and fluster Sid with later. Geno gets both of them, and to push his way in the middle on the couch and be annoying during quiet couch reading sessions, and to argue in favour of puppies and babies, and to smirk at Sid when he walks in on Anna’s legs around Geno on the kitchen counter. And Sid, he just gets everything he’s ever wanted pretty much.

IT’S A WIN ALL AROUND. OT3.

#sid/geno/anna #headcanons from the icy void #OT3 #Hockey RPF #sidgenoanna

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