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embrassemoi · 3 years

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Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 34

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Warnings: DARK THEMES, heavily implied domestic abuse (the Black family) A/n: I’m editing this in a restaurant rn. Nobody can say that I’m not committed! Anyway, if there’s more errors than usual, it’s bc I’m on mobile. Sorry!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 34: Secrets of Our Souls

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Meet me at our place at midnight. Be careful. Make sure nobody follows you. R.A.B

Y/N read the letter several times before folding it in half while her eyes glazed the crowd of students in the Great Hall in search of Regulus.

A no-show.

Since the start of the term, she’d been trying to get hold of Regulus but her attempts were futile. He was as finicky as a shadow, never staying still long enough for her to grasp, to spot.

Everything about his inconspicuous disappearance and the peculiar letter left her deeply unnerved. He'd even gone as far as using a different owl to respond to her letters; not the usual Black family owl.

In many ways, Regulus was mysterious; highly unusual — dare she say frightening.

“Oh!” Marlene exclaimed. “A secret admirer?”

“Give it back!” Y/N said indignantly as Marlene pried the letter from her hand, unfolding it. Before she could read the contents, Y/N nearly tackled it out of her grasp, snatching it back while Marlene pouted. “It’s private.”

Continuing to sulk, Dorcas smiled at Marlene. From between the sliver of space from under the wooden table and their bodies, she watched as Dorcas held Marlene’s hand; thumb grazing over her knuckles. Y/N eyed them questioningly.

“What are you not telling us?” Dorcas mused, leaning on the table with a sly smirk.

Marlene snapped her fingers. “Oi! Ginger snaps!”

Lily peered over, smile vanishing, placing her fork down. “Did you just call me a…?”

“Would you prefer traffic cone then?” Mary teased.

“I like Carrots more.” Dorcas added, shyly.

“Anyway, you two are pretty much attached,” Marlene said. Had she known better, she would have recognized Marlene’s tone for jealousy. "Who sent that letter?”

Lily shrugged but her face turned downwards at her uncomfortable body language. “She said it’s private. Leave it.”

The conversation ended at that.

Y/N felt a little nudge under the table and as she looked up, Lily’s head was tilted, conveying the silent question, ‘are you okay?’ She didn’t answer as a couple of first years bounced up to Marlene, tugging down on her sleeve. She turned to them, flicking her blond hair out of her face with a wide smile.

One first year was close to tears, another one standing on their tippy-toes to whisper something in her ear.

“Please can you come to the common room? It’s scary and I-I miss my dad!” One of the first years cried out.

Marlene cooed, hugging them lovingly. With a nod, she stood and pressed a kiss to the side of Dorcas’ cheek. She managed to make it seem like she was whispering in her ear before turning back to the group. “See you tossers later!”

Dorcas watched Marlene walk away. First years jumping, hanging off of her while Dorcas’ fingers grazed the spot on her face where she kissed her. She dazzled radiantly.

Before midnight, Y/N left her dorm, heading to the Marauder’s room and knocked on their door. She vaguely heard footsteps approaching before it opened.

She smiled before she could even register it. “Moony.”

He grinned widely. “Whiskers,” Remus said pleasantly, leaning against the door frame, his hair falling slightly over his eyes. “How may I help you?”

“Seeing you has already helped a lot.” She joked while Remus blushed madly. She laughed at his reaction. “I need to talk to Bambi.”

Remus had his eyebrows raised but opened the door wide and beckoned her in.

She noticed a bed pushed far to the left, isolated from the other beds. The curtains were almost nearly closed aside from the sliver that was still open. Black was there, book in hand with a few pieces of parchment laid surrounding him. He was already looking up at her.

They truly isolated Black from them in every way possible.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” Peter smiled before throwing her a small wrapped sweet her way. “Greetings!”

“Thanks, Pete!” She caught it. And dropped onto James’ bed. His glasses were strewn, laying on his bedside table as he flicked through his book.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Do you mind if I borrow your invisibility cloak tonight?”

James surprisingly didn’t push further as he simply went through his trunk and threw her the cloak, only asking that she would be careful with it.

She hopped out of the room, rushing out to the cold corridors and threw the cloak over her head. As she passed through various hallways, she finally opened the door to her and Regulus’ small hideout. A couple of candles were lit and the familiar Slytherin and Gryffindor blankets clashed together.

Huddled in the corner of the room on the couch, small and curled with his legs pressed against his chest and chin perched on his knees, Regulus was there, shaking.

She rushed up to him, keeping her hand visible and only touching him when he realized it was her. Consoling people was always a challenge in itself.

“What happened?”

Regulus’ voice was strained and tired. “C-can you hug me? Please?”

Her heart could have shattered as she roped him into a large, crushing hug. His aching sobs crashed through her chest. Y/N’s arms were tight around Regulus, his head face pressed against her shoulder and she could feel his tears seep through her shirt. Doing the best she could, she soothed him, petting his hair.

She couldn’t tell just how much time had passed until Regulus’ snuffles calmed down as he harshly wiped his tears. It was the first time she was able to truly get a close-up of how he looked.

To put it lightly, Regulus looked like shit.

Any of that regal, youthful glow of his diminished. And she realized it only faded whenever he went home. His skin was dull and grey, eyes sunken. Even his long hair was cut lopsidedly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“I… It’s…” Regulus trailed off, face full of worry and trouble. “It’s…”

“It’s okay,” she rubbed her hand up and down his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me.”

But something caught her eye. Regulus’ trousers rode up in his shaking state. A large bandage was wrapped messily on his leg. The skin around the bandage was red and a few scars peaked out. But as soon as she realized, he had too and quickly pulled the fabric down.

“... What is that?” She asked softly. She didn’t know what it was, but something heavy sunk in her chest — the feeling of sickening, frightening dread.

He refused to answer.

“You have to get that checked out —”

“No!” Regulus shouted, complete panic filtering through his face.

“Whatever that is, it isn’t going to heal properly if we don’t.”

Regulus debated for a while and she saw the conflict on his face before relenting. “I’m embarrassed by it…”

She mustered up any kind of energy left and smiled. “I won’t judge you.” She managed to catch his eye and held it. She went over her options quickly.

1. Leave Regulus?

Option one was already tossed out the window. The weight of the situation was far too grave to continue to let it slide by again and again.

2. Press further?

But how?

3. Make him feel comfortable?

Bingo.

If he was ashamed by his scars, then maybe if she showed hers…

She turned to Regulus, lifting her sleeve. A scar ran across her forearm from Snape’s attack during the Quidditch match.

“I got this a couple of months ago in a nasty fight.” Then she pointed to the small scar on her leg from when she was dragged by Moony. "I got this from an accident."

But then, she sucked in a deep breath, mustering up all her bravery and courage, pushing down every bit of insecurity. She tugged down the collar of her shirt a bit, just enough to reveal the top of a much more faded scar that travelled down to her sternum. “And I got this from a heart surgery.”

She fixed her shirt to sit properly again. “I was born with a heart defect. It went undetected until my mom found me, hardly breathing and had to perform open-heart surgery on me. I was supposed to die but here I am. Healthy and alive and I haven’t had a problem since.”

Regulus looked up at her wide-eyed and his body became less stiff.

“I used to be so… ashamed of it. Maybe I still am, I never talk about it… Only you, my mom and someone at Ilvermorny knows. But my point is, I am more than my scars, and you are too.”

She swallowed her fear, now cursing herself and resolved to shut up. Waiting, she wondered that since she showed him the scars that perhaps he would too.

Regulus considered her, almost astonished, finally moving to pull up his trousers and peeling off his bandage, wincing while doing so.

It felt like a cold bucket of water was splashed all over her body. She desperately tried to keep her face blank as the overwhelming urge to cry while combating the wave of nausea hit her.

His skin was butchered — fiery red. They weren’t neat, like what a surgeon's scalpel would be like, but messy, crisscrossed and viciously deep. It had hardly healed and they were old enough to be a little over a week or two old. And undoubtedly painful.

Whoever did that to him was enraged, furious.

“Shit… Regulus… who did this?” She asked quietly, more to herself than him as he remained silent. She stood, commanding, “We need to get you fixed up.”

“It’s not that b —”

“Stop lying.”

“Just don’t take me to the hospital wing.”

Wanting to know more, she was too afraid that any more prying would result in Regulus completely shutting down and withholding more information. Instead, she picked up the invisibility cloak, threw it over him and wrapped an arm underneath Regulus' arms to help him walk out of the room.

She went to the only other place she knew she would be able to offer any resemblance of help.

Once reaching the Potions classroom, muttering Alohomora, Y/N helped Regulus sit down comfortably at one of the extra tables and immediately got to work. All sorts of magic went around as she grabbed an extra textbook and flipped to the Essence of Dittany page.

Shelves, jars and cabinets opened and closed on their own accord, all taking ingredients as they fell into a boiling cauldron.

“What are you doing?” Regulus questioned, nervously drumming his fingers on the table.

“Making you something.”

It was still between them. She didn’t know what to say, only what to do. Everything went through her mind like a step-by-step process, like a robot categorizing its own emotions.

Because what was the right response to something like this?

She stared at the bubbling cauldron, slowly stirring to avoid eye contact. “You don’t have to tell me but… you didn’t do this to yourself —”

“No,” Regulus said, calmly and steadily.

“Then… to the person — people who did… will they bother you again?”

“Probably not… I’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.

Once the potion was completed, she poured it inside an applicator and made sure to cast a quick cleaning spell. A soft blue glow emitted around his leg until disappearing. She looked up to him, fisting his shirt and shoved it inside his mouth. “I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.”

She took the applicator, pouring a couple drops onto his wound. A greenish smoke billowed around them as it bubbled on his skin. The skin was stitching itself back together and over his wound. Regulus moaned in pain, fist banging on the wooden table.

She finally pulled the cloth from his mouth once down and ran across the room to find more clean clothes to dab off the sweat from his face. Y/N thought for a second he was going to faint.

“I’m so sorry Reg… Sorry…”

He didn’t say anything for a while, only nodding in response meanwhile she monitored his condition. She gave him the wrapped candy that Peter gave her, hoping that it would help him regain some energy. She was beginning to grow worried that she might’ve brewed it incorrectly as her mind mulled over possible counter potions.

“I know… you said... you don’t talk to my brother much…” Regulus croaked out. She closed the book, rushing up to him. “But... you are in the same friend group… right?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. A white lie wouldn’t hurt.

“Things changed. We’re friends. Why?”

There was a long pause. “Is he okay?”

A million questions went through her. Even if they were estranged, wouldn’t he know?

“He’s okay.” Lie. “He’s just been… stressed as of late.” True.

“Is he still staying with the Potter’s?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, eyelids drooping but everything about it told her something wasn’t right. “I’m glad.”

Regulus refused to let her help him walk back to the dungeons and left with his wound almost fully healed. And she was left with more questions than any answers as she slithered into bed.

What was he not telling her?

But then she thought about the summer with Matthew. Why had he been so surprised that she had been with a member of the Black family? Or how did he even know them? What was it about them that commanded so much respect and international recognition?

A couple of footsteps padded her way and Y/N felt her bed dip, a weight sliding beside her.

“Are you okay?” Lily whispered. “Been worried about you these past couple of days.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, turning to the side to look at Lily through the night. “Jolly.”

“You sure? It can be our secret?”

She remained quiet and it gave Lily her answer. She turned onto her side before mumbling. “Feel free to stay tonight.” When she didn’t feel Lily leave, but she wiggled around to become comfortable, she sighed, forcing herself to sleep.

There was certainly far too much happening in her life at the moment for her to fully care about Lily’s bizarre and avoidant behaviour. She just wanted the next day to come.

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The next few days were uncomfortable and Y/N was beyond exhausted.

Breakfast was nothing more than her sipping on a glass of water, studying the Slytherin table, worried for Regulus.

Was he being bullied? Was he… no… the wound was a bit too old for it to have taken place at Hogwarts.

She spent most of the day in the library, simply reviewing her Herbology and Advanced Potions textbook.

Much to James’ dismay, all the free periods they had in sixth year were due to the overwhelming work and increased difficulty in lessons. Fortunately for Y/N, Potions was partially a free class and she never had to worry about it aside from the essays. It was far too easy.

During class, she would figure out new techniques, tricks, but to her dismay, Slughorn had really enjoyed how both she and Snape performed together and often paired them up during potions. She hated to admit it, but there was a reason why Snape was a favourite student of Slughorn. He had talent. Although, he was in a permanently vindictive mood around her which made him even more unbearable.

The tip of her eagle-feather quill moved across the pages of the textbook and she pulled back momentarily to review her book.

Nightshade… Powdered silver… Stewed Mandrakes… Slughorn had said it helped werewolves… What if Remus —

“Whiskers! There you are!” James said, strutting up. He sat down on the couch beside her, both tucked away in the corner of the library.

She gave a little wave of her fingers before closing her book. James suddenly became slightly dejected at her reaction. She couldn’t force herself to put on a show.

“Something wrong?”

Y/N felt like there were no answers to everything that had been happening recently. Only if Matthew was there.

But James was.

“I need to ask you something.”

His head swivelled around to see if anyone with prying ears was listening in before nodding.

“Could you tell me about the Black family?”

She had never seen James go so rigid. His cheek hallowed as he chewed the inside of his cheek and waited for her to elaborate.

“I know I don’t talk about it but Regulus is a friend of mine.” She didn’t miss the way James stiffened further at that. “And he’s… worrying me. He’s… god, I don’t know what to say.”

James threw up a silencing spell, encircling them. “It’s okay, go on.”

“Regulus’ leg was butchered. I think he’s being bullied or it’s darker than that.”

James’ skin, which was usually a warm, rich look, seemed as if it paled, almost giving him a gray appearance. “Did he say anything about his family?”

“No. But he never talks about them. Is that the reason why Black stays with you?”

“Even with the non-existent respect I have for Black, I feel like I can’t tell you much,” James said and she understood why. “But the Black family — they’re fucking insane. Their Pureblood mania is probably one of the worst I’ve ever seen.” James took a moment to look at her reaction after mentioning blood purity. “He has a reason to be scared of them.”

“So you’re telling me that his family… they hurt him?”

James looked down, the gravity of their conversation finally hitting him. He took off his round glasses, rubbing his temples. “I’m not sure. Maybe? It was probably another Slytherin. His parents… love him — I don’t see them laying a hand on him. He didn’t mention running away? Did he?”

“No.”

She heard James curse under his breath as he grabbed his hair out of habit. “I’ll talk to him.”

“About what? You can’t tell him I told you, he’ll —”

“Relax. I won’t. I’ll ask him to move in with me.”

Y/N felt like she could faint there and then. Everything in her body felt wobbly, weak as she grappled with the idea of Regulus and his home life. Then Black… did he also go through what Regulus has been through? The thought made her sick.

James’ voice tugged her back to reality. “Promise me something.” She waited for him to continue.

“I know Regulus is your friend and that he’s going through a rough time but…” James struggled with his words. “But… be careful around him. He’s not much of a threat but his family is. There’s a reason why Black lives with me; no matter how angry, how much I hate him, I would never let him go back there. To them.

“The war is approaching and they have eyes all on Regulus — watching everything he does.”

Goosebumps covered her entire body. Everything James said sounded more like an underlying threat of sorts. She wondered if that was the reason why he refused to be seen with her publicly. “Are you saying that he’s a Death Eater?”

“No,” James responded briskly. “But it’s not to say his parents won’t force him to. If you knew his family, you would understand —”

Both students snapped their heads up from the figure slowly approaching them as James eased off the silencing charm.

Professor Elway was there, holding a large leather-bound book and a stack of parchment, most likely essays she had to grade. She only gave a small nod to James before smiling widely at Y/N which caused James to mutter something vaguely familiar that sounded like ‘favouritism.’

“Ms. L/N! How wonderful to see you!” Elway was enlivened. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh! Erm — thank you?”

Elway laughed, “Your work has been incredible! I’m very impressed.”

She felt James nudge her under the table.

“Oh!” The professor exclaimed. “There’s a Duelling club session tonight I’m supervising. I’d love to see you there?”

“I’m sorry, but we have a paper due in Transfigurations.” James helped, cutting in for her. She felt herself relax into her chair.

In no time, Defence Against the Dark Arts became Y/N’s favourite class and duelling was incredibly fun, but all she wanted to do was sleep. Perhaps another time…

Professor Elway gave a little sigh but nodded her head. “Then I’ll see you next session! Have a good day, Ms. L/N and Mr..?”

“Potter.”

“My apologies, Mr. Potter. Have a fine day!”

While they watched her leave, both students were left with a similar deep, icy trepidation that clawed at their soul and a single question heavy in their hearts.

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【 Next Chapter 】

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ close your eyes ✦

this chapter pairing; sub!seokmin x vampire!reader

genre&warnings; vampire!reader, sub!seokmin, dacryphilia(crying kink baybeee)🥴, corruption kink kinda went brrr in this a little, lots of teasing, dirty talk, a little mutual masturbation, tiniest hint of orgasm denial, whiny needy seokmin, allusions to subspace.

he said:

notes; THE-- ☠️ I exposed my crying kink in sdpp so we out here living our best lives now 😗💖 also seokmin being a whiny baby and crying bc everything you do to him is new and just too much for him is so fuckin hot ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ HENNYWAYS, you guys!! I cant believe monster mash is almost at the end, how the hell?!? this went by so fast 😭💕 and thank you for all the love and support on each chapter! even when tumb1r seems to hate me!! Lol, and for those in SoCal, be safe! stay indoors if u can, wear a mask if u have to be outside! And stay hydrated!! I’ll see y’all tomorrow! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~2300

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x - x - x - x

you take a drag, i take a sip;

i want your legendary kiss

you know i got designer taste;

and your design’s too good to waste

when the beast comes out at night;

yeah, it always wants a bite

and i try, try to resist;

but then the devil always wins.

Seokmin doesn’t believe in vampires.

He thinks Halloween is fun, but doesn’t believe in ghosts, demons or anything of the sort so he spends the night in; feet propped up on the coffee table as he watches another rerun of another vampire horror flick that he’d seen at least two times prior.

It’d been thankfully quiet for most of the night, despite the pouring rain and periodic thunder claps, but he enjoyed the way it added to the spooky atmosphere of the holiday.

Seokmin scoffs at the TV a few moments later, hand lodged deep in the bowl sitting in his lap. “Vampires aren’t even real.” He mutters.

“Says who?”

The bowl of popcorn in his lap is sent flying, and he acts quicker than he, himself, anticipates. “Who the fuck are you!? How did you get in here!?” His eyes dance over to the front door still locked and momentarily wonders if he left a window open.

He pales, realizing that it’d be impossible anyway.

Seokmin lived on the 17th floor of the building.

“Well!? Fuck---I’m---I’m gonna call the c-cops!” His shaky hands reach for his cell phone on the coffee table as you giggle.

You take a seat on his sofa, picking off a piece of discarded popcorn as you pop it into your mouth. “And tell them what? Exactly?”

“That there’s a psycho in my fuckin’ apartment and that you broke in!” Seokmin holds onto his phone a little tighter, palms clammy. He didn’t even hear the door open. You nod, pretending to think. “Oookay, so what are you gonna tell them when I do this?” You disappear in a puff of smoke and Seokmin feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Wh---”

“Boo!” You whisper from behind him, laughing when he runs roward and trips back onto the sofa. “What the fuck!?” His eyes show panic and confusion, shaky fingers letting go of the phone that was in his hand as it clatters to the floor.

“I--What are y-you? Please, don’t take my soul, it’s all I have left! I swear!”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, doubling over as he watches in fear. “Why are you laughing!?”

“I---you--you’re a funny one!” You wipe a stray tear from your eye as you catch your breath. “No, I don’t want your soul, I just want something to eat, that’s all~”

Seokmin’s eyes only read confusion when he stares back at you. “You want… food?”

“Mmhmm~”

You smile wide and Seokmin finally understands.

Ah. That kind.

He doesn’t know why he agrees.

Maybe it’s in his kind and innocent nature to believe you won’t suck him dry like a caprisun, but he agrees.

Maybe part of it is curiosity too and maybe part of him feels bad that maybe you haven’t fed in a while, but he introduces himself after you do and he finds himself trusting you a little bit more.

He’s not totally sure why.

“So----So how does this work, do I just---” He cuts himself off as he shakily turns his head to the side. “Wait, how do I know this isn’t a Halloween prank?! Did Jeonghan put you up to this?”

“Oh! Jeonghan, you know him?”

Seokmin’s eyes almost fall out of his skull. This couldn’t be happening. “Are we talking about the same Jeonghan? Yoon Jeonghan?”

“Yeah, lanky guy with brown hair, right? Super lethargic?”

Yep. That was Jeonghan.

Seokmin nods slowly, still a little perplexed. “So, why do you know him exactly? He hasn’t replied to my texts for the last three days... You didn’t... do something to him, did you?” You sit next to Seokmin on the sofa and he flinches almost immediately; scooting over a little more to put some space in between you two.

He wouldn’t admit it right now, but he thought you were really pretty.

“Um, no. He’s out of town and maybe just ignoring you but he lets me feed sometimes, y’know, when he is around. Maybe that’s why I was drawn here, y’know? Familiarity.” Damn.

Seokmin does feel a little bad now; for himself and for you. He bites his lip as the heat rushes to his face. “How---how do you usually, um, d-do it with Jeonghan?” The heat rushes down his body at the same time at his unintentional innuendo. “I mean, no! Not---not that, I meant how you feed! Fuck, sorry!”

Grinning, you’re quick to make your move as you push Seokmin down onto the sofa and straddle his waist.

“Wh--”

The words are caught in his throat as he watches you lean over to the coffee table to pluck out a lollipop from the bowl of candy. You unwrap it, licking it once before you bring it down towards his lips. He shakily parts them, welcoming the cherry flavoured candy into his mouth.

“You see, Seokmin,” You start, hands already roaming down his torso as he moans around the candy. “When people think of vampires, they think vampires just feed whenever, right? Just a quick bite here and they’re done.” He nods. “But that’s no fun~ So some of us like to play a little first, y’know? Get the blood rushing~”

You cup him through his sweats as he whines and he’s quick to thrust his hips up into your touch before he can even think properly.

Oh, fuck! Don’t do that! He tells himself.

A giggle from you is all it takes for him to blush even harder. “It’s okay, Seokmin. I want you to feel good too. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

“Y-yeah… O-okay…” His voice is muffled slightly from the candy still in his mouth, but he allows himself to lean into your touch. In truth, he was a little scared and a little nervous and he knew you could tell.

“Have you ever done anything… with restraints? Or things like orgasm denial?” You pluck the lollipop from his mouth; a thread of spit connecting it to his lips before you bring it to your own mouth. You quickly bite down on the hard candy, breaking it down into small pieces before swallowing. Seokmin grimaces a little.

“Um…” He’d never even heard of orgasm denial before, much less even had a thought about restraints. “...No. I--I’ve only… um… done it twice...”

You grin down at him, eyes flashing red. “Oh, Seokmin… you have so much to learn.”

You like shy Seokmin.

Maybe even a little too much.

“A-ah, no… no more t-teasing, I--ah!” He lets out a choked sob, hips thrusting up as you continue to tease the head of his cock. You move frustratingly slow and you don’t even bother to wrap your whole hand around him, instead just rubbing your palm across the tip as the tears pool up in his eyes.

“I--I don’t---mmh!” Seokmin bites his lip. He’s never felt quite like this before and the feeling was good, but unfamiliar.

“Don’t even think of cumming either~”

“But--” He chokes up again, except this time he can’t stop the tear that slides down the side of his face. You smile down at him, licking your lips.

“You’re so cute when you cry~ So pretty~” You pity him a little so you wrap your hand around his cock, working your hand up and down his shaft as he lets out a shaky breath. He’s unsure of where to put his hands, so he keeps them crossed over his chest, sweater paws keeping his clammy palms contained as he watches you.

“I--p--please, can I c-cum?” He whispers, voice small and slurred. “Nope~”

He lets out a small sob as he tries to blink away the tears.

When you feel him getting close, you pull your hand off of him; easing off of his lap and to the other side of the sofa. Seokmin watches in confusion, sitting up slightly as he watches you slide your panties down your legs. You toss the material at him, laughing when it falls onto his cock.

“We’re gonna play a little game~” He watches with an open mouth as you spread your legs; gulping when you immediately run your precum covered fingers through your wet folds. “We’re gonna touch ourselves just like this, across from each other, and if you can hold off your orgasm for, oh let’s say, 10 more minutes? Then I’ll reward you.”

“And---and if I c-can’t?”

“If you can’t… Hmm~ Then I’ll have to bring my ropes next time~” You wink at him, fingers pinching your clit as you moan out loud. The noise is enough for Seokmin’s cock to twitch and he wraps a shaky hand around himself as he watches you touch yourself from across the sofa. He uses your panties too, covering them in the precum that leaks from the head of his cock.

It falls into relative silence as Seokmin bites into the neck of his sweater to keep in his high pitched whines and cries. He watches as you sink two fingers into your cunt and he sobs as he thrusts up into the his fist and your panties wrapped around his cock.

This is unfair, he thinks.

“Mmh Seokmin~ I’m already imagining your cock fucking into me so deep… Ah, my fingers just aren’t enough~” Teasingly, you curl and scissor your fingers inside of your tight warmth, genuinely imagining it’s Seokmin instead. He releases the sweater material from between his teeth, drool dripping from his lips and eyes pooling with tears ready to spill.

“Please, I, hic, I--I can’t h-hold off, hic, I need t-to, hah, c--cum… I--I can’t...”

In a flash, the air is knocked out of Seokmin’s lungs as his back hits the sofa and he’s staring up at the ceiling. His sticky fingers find purchase in the material of his sweater again as you crawl back into his lap. You pry off the soaking panties covering his cock, tossing them to the coffee table as he groans.

You wrap a hand around his leaking cock, moving your hand up and down a few times before you use your thumb and index finger to circle the base as you squeeze hard. “Just a whiny baby boy crying and begging to cum. So cute~”

He squirms underneath you as he tries to get you to do something but you hold steady, fingertips wrapped around the base of his cock to keep him from cumming. “Now now, Seokmin. I’ll let you cum. But you have to be patient~ If you cum without my permission, I’ll make you wait even longer~”

Seokmin nods feverishly, uncaring of what came after. You still hadn’t fed from him too and he could’ve cared less about that.

You let go of his cock as he releases a shaky breath and he watches through foggy eyes as you raise your body until you’re hovering just above his cock. You use your hand to position him right at your entrance and Seokmin lets out a sharp whine when you drop yourself down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“A-ah, fuh--fuck!”

Your pussy is warm, wet and tight and Seokmin is really fighting a losing battle at this point.

He cries quietly, hips canting up to meet you bouncing in his lap.

“Mmh~ Seokminnie crying making me so fuckin’ wet~ Ah~ I’m gonna cum soon too~”

His head is fuzzy and every new sensation makes his body react in a way he never knew it could. The tears blur his vision but he can already feel his cock twitching and body tensing up slightly; a telltale sign that he was already close.

“I, hic, please…” He slurs out, already too far gone. His body felt weightless; a slight floating feeling overcoming him as he continued to fuck up into you.

Your eyes flash crimson and you pry one of his arms away from his clothed chest, pushing the sleeve back as you kiss his wrist.

“Okay Seokmin~ I want you to cum, baby boy. Let me feel your cock throbbing and filling me up with your warm cum~”

Seokmin could die and be happy, thank you’s rolling off of his tongue through choked cries as he finally lets himself go.

The pleasure washes over him after a few more swivels of your hips and he barely even registers the fact you’ve already sunk your fangs into his wrist, too lost in his own bliss.

You moan against his skin, drinking up just enough to get him lightheaded before you’re lapping up the wound.

Seokmin tasted extra sweet.

Licking your lips, you release his arm as it falls limp next to his body and you immediately bring your fingers down to your clit, rubbing harsh and quick circles on the nub to get yourself to cum.

“Oh, god, Seokmin!” You cry; walls fluttering around Seokmin’s overly sensitive cock as he whines and squirms underneath you.

You ride out your high, hips coming to a stop as you catch your breath above him. Seokmin, on the other hand, feels a little delirious and warm; fingertips twitching at his sides. “Ngh…” He whimpers, unable to even speak with how exhausted he felt.

You lift your hips, cum sliding down Seokmin’s cock as he groans in oversensitivity. “Ah~ Look at how much cum you spilled in me, Seokminnie~” His bleary eyes watch as you let the cum slide out of your pussy and right over his cock and he almost, almost hates the way his cock twitches as the sight.

Sitting back on his thighs, you watch him bask in his post-orgasm glow; smacking your lips as you reach for another lollipop from the coffee table. “So~ How did you like it?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice when you visibly see his cock twitch.

His throat feels dry, that’s all he knows.

Seokmin’s clammy palms slide back into his sweater paws, pressed tight against his chest again as he gently leans up. You can’t help but smirk at his appearance; puffy red eyes from crying and cheeks stained with drying tears with his cock still curving up to his abdomen covered in his own cum.

“I---s--so what’re you g-gonna teach m-me next…?”

#sub!seokmin #seokmin smut #dk smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #seokmin scenarios #seokmin imagines #dk imagines #dk scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #sub!svt #sub!seventeen #monstermash!svt #dk #seokmin #sub!dk

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jeni182 · 4 years

Note

Hi here's a prompt: Andrew keeps insisting it's 'nothing' right? So now Neil is hell bent on making him admit that it isn't, so he's trying various things to do so, including making him jealous.

First, I’m sorry this took so long! Second, I know this is probably not what you had in mind and I’m sorry for that. This is just where my mind took it, and I think I just didn’t want to see Neil making Andrew mad on purpose to get him to admit it bc I’m fragile okay I HOPE THIS IS FINE.

_________________________________

Andrew’s mouth was cold.

Usually, it was warm, and Neil knew it would warm up soon enough, but he’d been sucking on an ice cube right before they kissed, and Neil was enjoying the novelty of a cold mouth on his own.

They were at the Columbia house in their room, in their bed, in their feelings. Neil was, anyway. He suspected Andrew was too, but he’d never admit it.

That was the thing though, wasn’t it? They’d been doing this for a year now. They’d been together practically every second. They’d stood together and fought together and taken each other apart together, after slowly and carefully building trust bit by bit.

Neil pulled away from Andrew’s mouth, panting slightly. Andrew turned his attention to Neil’s neck instead, and he had to fight against the urge to close his eyes.

“Hey.” Andrew stopped and looked at him. “One of the soccer guys asked if you were my boyfriend.”

Andrew’s face didn’t change. “So?”

Neil shrugged. “I didn’t know what to tell him.”

“You? At a loss for words? Wonders never cease.” Andrew didn’t lean down to kiss Neil again, and Neil knew he wouldn’t. He’d wait until it was made clear that Neil wanted to keep going. He sat up instead. They faced each other on the bed and Neil looked down to the soft black blanket Andrew kept on it because he liked rubbing his feet against it at night.

“Seriously, though. What should I have said? Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Boyfriends?”

Andrew tilted his head just slightly, his mouth turning down a bit at the corner. “No,” he finally said, and moved to leave the bed. Neil stood with him to stand in front of him.

“So, what then? It’s been a year Andrew. This is still nothing? This is still just a fun way for you to pass the time?” Neil hated the way he sounded. This wasn’t him. Whining and carrying on about labels. He didn’t even need a label, really. He just wanted Andrew to admit that yes this was something and yes Neil was something.

Andrew patted his pockets like he was looking for his cigarettes. “Fun is objective, don’t you think?”

Neil crossed his arms, clenched his jaw, and threw his cards on the table. “So, you’d be totally fine if I hooked up with someone else? Since this is nothing and I’m nothing?”

Andrew’s head snapped up and his gaze met Neil’s. He could see a muscle tic in Andrew’s jaw, but all he said was, “Do what you want.”

He left the room. Neil didn’t follow him.

****

They were quiet with each other after that. Still together, still connected. It was like Andrew was inside his own head constantly, but Neil didn’t mind. He didn’t really know what to say anyway. He was still thinking about it but pushing Andrew to admit something he wasn’t ready to didn’t seem like a good idea.

They were in the library one day, studying for midterms. Neil felt good about this, because Andrew despised the library and the fact that he was here at all was, Neil was pretty sure, just to be with him. They sat across from each other, both reading. Neil, a history textbook. Andrew, something that looked very unacademic.

Neil startled a little when someone slid into the seat next to his. He’d gotten too comfortable here, he thought for the millionth time. He was out of immediate danger, sure. But for how long?

He looked to the person next to him, and it was a guy he vaguely remembered from one of his math classes.

“Hey, Neil.”

Neil didn’t say anything. He looked at the guy confused. He didn’t know his name. Tad or Jake or Brad or something similar to the hundreds of other white guys at this school who all looked exactly the same to him. Brown hair, eyes, a nose maybe, taller, weakness is in their lack of speed.

Tad or Jake or Brad cleared his throat, eyes flicking to Andrew before landing back on Neil’s face. Neil looked at Andrew too, who was still staring at his book, eyes not moving.

“I just wondered if maybe you want to study together? This statistics final is gonna kill me, and I know you’re so good at this.” He flashed Neil a smile of straight white teeth.

Neil shrugged. “I guess, sure.” He needed to study, too, after all. He didn’t think he’d have a problem, but his scholarship was dependent on his grades and the last thing he needed was to risk it now that his choices were to go pro or die.

“Perfect. Here’s my number.” He reached over and used Neil’s pencil to write his number on the corner of his history textbook, which seemed unnecessarily rude. He squeezed Neil’s arm and left with one last glance at Andrew. Neil watched him leave before shrugging to himself and looking back down at his book. He could feel Andrew’s eyes burning a hole in the top of his head a minute later.

“What?” he asked, without looking up.

Andrew didn’t answer. Neil did look up at him then, confused. He was staring at Neil with his normal blank expression, but there was something about the tightness around his mouth, the slight narrowing of his eyes that Neil didn’t like.

“What’s wrong?”

Andrew stood, shoving his book in his bag and leaving the library without looking back. Neil started to follow him but stopped. Whatever Andrew was pissed about, he probably just wanted space to sort it out. Neil knew by now that bugging Andrew to talk was only more likely to send him deeper inside his shell. So, he stayed in his seat, wrote flashcards to study, and thought about Andrew the whole time.

He let him have until after dinner before he tracked him down to the roof. Andrew was there like he was always there. Sitting at the edge with his knees pulled up, arms circling them loosely. A bottle of vodka at his hip and the acrid scent of cigarettes on the air. Neil took a seat beside him and looked out over the glowing lights of campus.

Neil waited for Andrew to talk first. Whatever this was, he was here as silent support until otherwise requested.

“Did you set up your date?”

Neil looked at Andrew in surprise. “Date?”

“With statistics boy. He seemed awfully eager.” Andrew threw his cigarette off the side and immediately lit another one.

“You mean to study? No, that exam isn’t until next week.”

Andrew snorted. “Oh, Neil. You can’t be this clueless. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you mention hooking up with other people and then you agree to study with a guy who looks at you like he’s already fucked you.”

Neil’s hackles rose immediately. “I seem to remember you telling me to do what I want. Or did I hear that wrong?”

Andrew threw the new cigarette off the edge, too. Even though it was only half spent. “No, you didn’t.”

“Then why are you complaining?”

Andrew took a swig of the vodka in answer, and Neil grabbed it from him before he could take another.

“I don’t plan on hooking up with anyone else. I don’t want to hook up with anyone else. I still don’t swing for anyone but you, in case you’ve forgotten. That guy was asking me to study, and I agreed. I’m not going to manipulate you into admitting that there’s something here by fucking someone else. If you really think I’d do that, you don’t know me at fucking all which is a shame, because I know you, Andrew.”

Andrew laughed with no humor. It was sad, and Neil thought maybe a little broken. “You don’t know me.” Neil’s chest tightened to the point of pain. Because he did know him. He knew this man, knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.

“Yeah?” Neil leaned into Andrew’s space and Andrew did not lean away. “I know you’re afraid of heights, and you’re afraid of me. I know you think as soon as you admit to yourself - to me - that this isn’t just two guys getting off together, it becomes real. It’s one more thing for you to lose in a life where you’ve lost so fucking much. It’s one more thing someone can hold against you when they want to hurt you again.” Neil leaned closer, and not getting any resistance from Andrew, he placed a kiss on his neck. Andrew shivered. “I know you’ve never had this, because I’ve never had it either. And I know it’s scary, because I’m scared too. But Andrew,” Neil sighed and leaned back again, “I’ve been nothing my entire life. I still feel like nothing sometimes. You are my something, and the fact that you also think I’m nothing is fucking soul crushing sometimes. As much as you don’t want to hear it, you are everything.”

Andrew looked from Neil to campus, and Neil watched his throat work as he swallowed hard. He closed his eyes before looking back to Neil.

“Are you going to study with that guy?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Neil honestly didn’t know if the guy was flirting, but if it was something Andrew took this seriously, he would take it seriously, too.

“I don’t want you to.” He took out his pack of cigarettes but didn’t light another one. He just flipped it over and over in his hands.

“Why?” Neil couldn’t help but ask.

Andrew looked at him, pale and washed out from the artificial lights, but eyes still bright as they landed on his.

“Because you are everything, too.”

AO3

#aftg #tfc #andrew minyard #neil josten #Andreil #fic prompts #my fics #jeni182 #andreil fluff

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binunus · 3 years

Text

college bf!mj

a/n AH !!!! THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE ASTRO COMEBACK ???? APRIL 5TH ??? WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE LOVES !! i genuinely...do not know if I will be able to survive this month bc of them.

(also i tried to get this posted on mj’s birthday but I’m so sorry a lot of shit happened and I had a ~bad mental breakdown~ and it’s just been rough out here but that’s a story for another time if any of you lovely beings wanna know hehe)

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ tw: mentions of cheating (in past relationships)

→ word count: 4.9k ____________________________________

KIM MYUNGJUN !!

A LIVING REINCARNATION OF THE SUN

this is gonna be so cute i just !! love him so much???

has his own apartment, but he honestly stays over all of the boys’ places so much that...he barely sleeps at his apt

major: vocal performance

his voice is literally honey

can probably sing higher than some sopranos in his major

so friendly, everyone who meets him loves him

mj just has a way of attracting people and making people comfortable around him

in short, he is – of course – the moodmaker

can turn anyone’s frown upside down

he’s down?? for like everything

an adventurous spontaneous type

has...probably failed a ged ed class once or twice before...

he’s not stupid okay! he just doesn’t really care about the classes that has no connection to his major

like will he ever apply calculus in singing? probably not

oh but professors can’t hate him, even if he just messes around during class

he’s just so kind and likeable

loves his boys aka astro

will literally do anything to make them smile, even if he’s had a rough day

as long as his boys are happy :’) he’s happy :’)

now how do you meet myungjun??

he’s in an acapella group on campus

he just has to be alright

he was the only freshman that got in during his first year

that shows how good he is :*

a tenor in the highly competitive co-ed group

spoiler alert, he convinces sanha to join, but that’s for college bf!sanha

myungjun is what me and my friends like to call: the solo whore

and it’s not bc he’s greedy for solos, he’s a real team player

his voice just happens to sound the best for most solos your group has??

you’re also in the acapella group

im not giving a voice part bc then that would put you in a binary category

so soprano, alto, tenor, baritone, bass, you pick love

anyway, you and myungjun were chosen to sing a duet for one of your competition pieces

and it was the key emotional piece so you and him had to be on your A games

you and myungjun were friends ofc, you had to be some sort of friends with everyone in your acapella group

but you never really hung out with him outside of rehearsal

well until you got this duet together

and you weren’t worried about it, mj was so fun and nice and an amazing singer, you had no doubt these extra practices with him would be a good time

and you were right! besides singing, you actually got a chance to get to know him and how goofy he really was

you’re pretty sure you always had an ab workout whenever you hung out with him bc of how much he made you laugh

about a month away from competition, you and myungjun were like best buds

literally a chaotic, iconic duo

the chemistry you two had during your duet was spectacular, your voices highlighted and bounced off each other very well

but! your leader had a little critique

“y/n, myungjun, that was great but...can you guys pretend to look...like in love? I get we’re all friends here, but if you can’t convey the emotion of the song in our performance, what’s the point? This goes for everyone, this is a song about how much you love your partner and would give them the world, we need to show that in our eyes and movements, even if you’re just singing ooh and woah for like 10 measures.”

you and myungjun decide to stay after rehearsal and practice the emotions you guess...

your leader had a point, good singing could only go so far

and for the first time, myunjun was a bit...? awkward??

you: alright so how are we gonna pretend to be madly in love with each other

he chuckles and shrugs: honestly I don’t know, look at me like I’m your boyfriend or something??

you: well, I hate my last boyfriend so that probably wouldn’t be a good idea

myungjun offering you a high-five: I hate...well I think I hate...my last partner too so at least we have that

you: how do you think you hate your last partner? are you not dating anyone right now?

he gives you a smile and like you notice it’s forced?? it’s not genuine or bright like the one he usually gives

mj: no I’m not dating anyone...my last relationship sorta traumatized me I guess.

you: ...how did it traumatize you...? you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to myungjun

mj: ah *awkward laughter* well...I was sorta going through it my senior year of high school, stress from graduating and what to do with my life and all that shit, you know? I dated this person since my freshman year and I guess my mental health got the best of me during that time and they couldn’t handle it. We were planning on staying together throughout college and do long distance but I found out in the summer before starting college that they fucked my high school best friend behind my back...when I confronted them about it, the answer they gave me was that I was too down and preoccupied with my worries to notice about my partner’s needs...pretty fucked up right?

your jaw dropped, your eyes were bulging out at his story

you: myungjun what the fuck??? what college do they go to? I’ll pull up right now and beat their asses, I don’t know scream in their face or something! That’s fucked!

he’s laughing a little: thanks y/n, but it’s alright. You know, maybe I was too caught up in my own problems that I ended up neglecting my partner’s needs...I guess that’s why I’m always just trying to be carefree and fun now.

you: that doesn’t justify the fact that what they did to you was wrong. you should have never gone through that myungjun, it’s not your fault that you were going through it mentally, your partner should have been there to support you and understand your struggles, not cheat on you with your best friend. ugh I’m pissed for you.

mj: I appreciate it y/n, but yeah love’s sorta a hard subject for me.

you nod in understanding

mj: well! that’s my traumatic breakup story, it’s only fair you share yours

you laugh: you’re right. Well I was dating this guy right when I entered college, met him at the freshman orientation, completely hit it off. I was so in love with him, we dated for about a year. And then last semester he broke up with me out of nowhere, said he wanted to focus on school and himself and that he needed a break from dating. I found out two days later that he started dating one of his suite mates and that on the night he broke up with me, they fucked. So love? also something hard for me.

mj: aww look at us both unable to find or relate to love because of past relationship traumas.

you hit his shoulder laughing: you’re such a headass

mj: I’m kidding! anyway, I’m sorry you went through that too y/n. it sucks and your ex is a dumbass for breaking up with you. Do you still have feelings for him? w-wait, you don’t have to answer that, was that insensitive?

you: you’re fine haha. Um...well...sometimes when I overthink things at night, I do miss him and I wonder what the hell I did wrong for it to end so abruptly because I was honestly really happy with him, but then I wake up in the morning and I hate him again.

mj: you did nothing wrong y/n...and if you need to call me at 2 am when you’re overthinking and need some badass confidence knocked into you, I will be awake.

you smile and give him a hug: thanks myungjun...you know the same goes for you too?

mj: hm??? what do you mean??

you: you don’t always have to smile around me, especially if you don’t feel like it. Don’t repress your mental health, huh? It’s bad for the soul to bottle it in. I’m not gonna force you to share your darkest fears with me, I’m just saying that if you feel drained and wanna talk about it, I’m here to listen

myungjun pouts a little bit, he’s really touched?? it’s hard for him to share his troubles with others

like as much as he loves astro and is close to them, he doesn’t share his down sides with the boys as often as he should bc he never wants to burden them

myungjun just always thought it was easier to suppress the bad feelings and put on a happy act

but he couldn’t deny the weight lifted off his shoulders after telling you about his breakup

and maybe it was because your energies were on a different level lately, but he found it so?? easy?? to just vent to you after that

until competition, the two of you worked on faking like you were in love (basically imagining that each other was your favorite actor/actress or whatever, something like that)

it was good enough for the group to believe it lol

but what about the judges and audience hmmmmm

anyway, fast forward and it’s competition day!!

myungjun introduces you to his best friends aka the boysss aka astro

they come and support him for his competition ugh we love

you’re like smiling and hyper when you meet them

...has myungjun been rubbing off on you???

you: it’s so nice to meet you all! myungun always talks so highly of you

astro: huh?? you’re lying, myungjun hyung complimenting us???

and then they start messing and friendly bickering with each other and yes they’re teasing mj

you’re laughing bc it’s so cute?? you can see in their eyes and their smiles how much they really care about each other :’)

also astro, probably jin or eunwoo, maybe rocky: we’re sorry if m hyung has driven you to insanity these past few months of rehearsing

you just laugh as myungjun hits them: myungjun’s actually been like my partner in crime lately, so we’re all good :)

*cue the boys exchanging looks with each other*

you perform ah ha ha

alright, you were so used to thinking that myungjun was...idk kim soohyun or something bc mm chef’s kiss his acting...to get into the emotion of the song

but then during the actual performance you saw him as myungjun and like all the hard work and extra practices and late night talks came in full force and you were just...singing to him

and you notice how...handsome?? and charismatic?? myungjun really is...and the little sparkle in his eyes when he’s performing like...wow

and after your set, you’re just like shit, what the fuck was that??

your group doesn’t win though, you place second!

but you and myungjun get awarded best solo/duet of the entire competition

astro: ;)

your acapella group: ;)

the judges: ;)

alright so im a firm believer that if myungjun had feelings for someone, he would straight up tell them like balls to the wall full fucking send

after competition, the routine of school comes back. you occasionally hang out with myungjun outside of rehearsal

by occasionally, I mean once a week hangout with myungjun (and astro bc they started inviting you to their dinners)

and then one night – at midnight – he calls you like out of pocket and his tone is like completely serious

you’re a bit scared?? like: myungjun...is everything okay? did something happen?

mj: y/n...can I ask you something?

you: yeah, of course

mj: do you still think about your ex?

you: o_o um...honestly no, not really...why?

mj: well, if I’m being honest. y/n, I have feelings for you. And i’m not asking you to like me back or give me an answer straight away, but I just wanted to let you know. If you don’t think about your ex anymore, and if you think you’re ready...maybe you can consider thinking of me??

mmmmm kim myungjun you slick flirty dog grrr bark bark

and you know how he can just talk, and talk fast, so you’re still in the middle of processing this and he just goes on like

“sleep on it, y/n. I’ll see you soon for rehearsal, okay? good night”

like you don’t even have a chance to respond to him bc he just hangs up the phone

you think about it, of course you think about it, you’ve been thinking about it ever since competition

having feelings for myungjun has always been in the back of your mind since then

like did you notice that when you hung out with him, your heart would flutter if he said something sweet?? or if you two were a bit too close to each other?? 100%

but you didn’t know if either of you were ready for another relationship so it’s just been put on the back burner

at the next acapella practice, you find that your cheeks just flush whenever myungjun looks your way

the rehearsal went a bit??? weird?? like even your group noticed that there was a bit of a tension between you and myungjun

but of course, he goes up and talks to you after rehearsal ended and he’s like: hey...I’m sorry if my confession made you feel weird, I didn’t mean for that at all. If you want, we can just forget about what I said and stay friends!

you just facepalm like: myungjun you idiot, I’m acting weird because I like you too. God, you know maybe the boys are right, maybe you need to shut your mouth for a little bit

and he whines like: hey!

but then he realizes what you said and he gives you the brightest smile: you mean it?? you like me back??

and you’re like shyly smiling now: yeah...I do...but do you want to take the next step?? I mean...do you think you’re ready for another relationship??

he gets like serious and he grabs your hand: not gonna lie, I don’t think I’ll ever be fully ready after my last one...but if there’s someone I wanna try it with, it’s you.

:’) kim !!! myung !!! jun !!!

dating myungjun?? the best thing ever

the cutest boy alive honestly

he has so much cute and goofy in him already with just friends and strangers

but with you, it’s increased tenfold

even you start to act cute and goofy after dating him

petnames?? bub and bubby

myungjun is not serious about a lot of things, but he is very serious about his feelings for you and your relationship

y’all take things at your own pace and he !! values !! consent !! even if it’s just like making out

he just doesn’t wanna mess things up with you :’)

the type of boyfriend to sing you to sleep ah !!! his voice is heaven alright

will be extra about pda in front of the guys to make them grossed out

and yes you get embarrassed, but myungjun’s too cute to scold

you get used to a lot of second-hand embarrassment dating him and being friends with the boys

but it’s just so endearing, you can’t even fight it

will swing your arms together when you’re out just walking

screams he’s so cute

you don’t really fight bc communicating with each other is one of the biggest things in your relationship

like if a disagreement or a situation comes up, you two are mature enough to talk it through and work things out bc you both already been knew what it’s like to be in a relationship that didn’t have full transparency

you do jokingly bicker about small things though (like think about how astro fights)

but he always ends fights by scooping you up in a hug and showering your face with kisses

loves kissing your nose

just imagine: you and myungjun cuddling and he just kisses your nose and you scrunch up your face and he just laughs and kisses you all over and you two end up giggling

will do anything to see a smile on your face, it’s the greatest sight to him

alright we been talking too much about how cute myungjun is

he’s also a hot motherfucker alright

the most attractive when he’s singing in your opinion

you know how charismatic he is, you’ve seen it first hand during rehearsal and performances

he’s very good at hiding his horniness, especially in public

but phew when you two are in private and myungjun’s in the mood

you can tell bc his eyes just get hazy and he immediately just starts kissing your neck

a very passionate lover, will prioritize your pleasure over his

sex with myungjun can go from being sweet and sensual, to fun and playful, to hot and exciting

by that...I mean that he is down to try every kink and position you can think of

as long as both of you are okay with it ofc

he’s one of the kinkiest members in astro im convinced

blindfolds? bondage? ice cubes? wax play?

you want it? you got it

he’s not into feet though, i apologize to my foot fetish lovers

his favorite position is actually missionary

myungjun loves being able to watch you and to see how good he’s making you feel

in missionary is when he feels the most connected to you, it’s just a passionate position

and yes he’s very vocal, so you betcha he encourages you to be vocal as well

will try to mess with you in a sense where say you two are hanging out with the guys, he’ll touch you and challenge you to not make a noise

and then he’ll snicker and wink at you if you even let out a peep

he’s a tease !!! like will edge you until you’re on the brink of cumming at least 3 times

myungjun has pretty good stroke game alright

very fluid with his hips, idk he just knows all the right spots to hit

praise...kink...that’s the tweet, need I say more

he’s into hair pulling !! both ways !!

okay hear me out...myungjun fucking you and pulling your hair until your screaming and then after you both cum, he’s like: you hit a high f earlier bub! I almost wanted to harmonize with you but–

you: myungjun are you serious!

sex with him would always just be a fun time, like he’s hot and grrr it feels so good but there’s always a bit of laughing and joking around in the process

like he will tickle you before he puts his cock in you just to see the switch of you laughing to moaning

alright but shower sex?? he’s into that

and just the acoustics of both of your sounds in the bathroom?? it’s so filthy he loves it – and it’s easy to clean up afterwards

you bet that after any performance with your group, the two of you have sex, even if it’s just a quickie in an empty practice room or whatever

no shame, will kick the boys out or announce “we’re going to fuck bye!” if you or him get too horny in the middle of a hangout

im just gonna throw this out here...you and myungjun...mile high club

(your group competed in an acapella competition and the flight there...it just happened)

all in all, myungjun just wants to make you happy and feel good and smile, even if you two just finished an intense sex session

let’s get into the deep stuff though, you are the only person myungjun is comfortable with to not show a smile all the time

even with the boys, there’s always a small part of him that wants to just push through and be optimistic just so that they won’t worry

but with you, he knows that it’s okay to be sad and to be vulnerable :’)

when myungjun cries bc he’s upset :( fuck you cry too

he loves when you just hug him and stroke his hair when he’s stressed

very showy about your relationship, not bc he’s braggy, but bc he just wants to show the world how happy you make him and that he’s in love <3

the boys are so happy to see their eldest in love :’)

they don’t show it around each other, but they’ve come up to you in private and say sweet things like

“you make myungjun hyung so happy, he always brings joy to everyone but you bring joy to him, thank you”

im !! getting !! sentimental !!

the day you found out myungjun was in love with you was the day you met his parents

‘twas a bit spontaneous

his parents came to see one of your group performances and myungjun’s like holding your hand and leading you somewhere after you get off stage and he’s like “bub! these are my parents!”

you end up getting dinner with his family and yikes you were hella nervous, you were not expecting on meeting his parents right after your performance

not gonna lie, you thought he was leading you to the car for some post-performance sex

but they adored you, his parents could see how much you meant to their son ugh I cry

anyway, the L word

as you’re finishing dinner, myungjun’s all giddy and just like

“I’m so glad you came and watched mom and dad, the timing was perfect too! I wanted to introduce you to y/n for a while now and have you meet the person I love.”

and his parents are just smiling at you and saying how they’re so happy to finally meet you and how you have an amazing voice and to take care of myungjun and you’re !!! just !!! blushing !!!

as soon as you both got in the car after saying goodbye to his parents, he’s just like: hope I didn’t surprise you too much bubby, I didn’t know my parents were coming to watch until like an hour before we went on stage

you just give him a little smile: I was a bit caught off guard, but it’s okay. Your parents are so sweet, I see where you get it from bub.

myungjun: I can tell that they love you already! well of course not as much as I do, but with time I know they’ll come pretty close

and you’re blushing again, it’s the L word: do you mean it myungjun?

myungjun: that my parents love you?? of course–

you: no, bub...that you...love me?

myungjun: yeah...unless you don’t feel the same way–

you: myungjun! no, of course I do! I just wasn’t expecting the first time to hear it was with your parents

you two are laughing, ugh this man

after your giggles subside, he leans over from the driver’s seat and he just cups your cheek and pecks your nose: I love you y/n, thank you for reminding me what love feels like

you: I love you too myungjun

and then you two are just like sharing a sweet kiss in the parking lot of the restaurant before starting the drive back to his place

do you and myungjun make duets together for fun and post it?? yeah probably

you are the luckiest dating myungjun, the living breathing embodiment of serotonin and love

even when you two are older and out of college, he still gives you the same affection and attention and authenticity ugh he’s just amazing

im so sorry this was late but happy belated to our happy virus <3

3-12-21

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aclosetfan · 3 years

Note

(ask game) thank you so much for playing the game!! you’re the best (per usual)!!

Helllll yeahhhhh 21 is the DUMBEST STUPIDEST fic I’ve ever made and I lovvveee it 💚💙❤️ it’s the “Vampire Zombie” one i mentioned in the original ask game post 😂😂

So glad someone picked the number!! Background to keep in mind: do yall remember when there was just a shit ton of Vampire fics on FFN?? Idk about ao3, but for newer fandom members this was TOTALLY a trend in the early 2000s on ffn, and I was like why the fuck are all of these here??? And like, why is it constantly a predator-prey relationship between the rrb and ppg??? So I was like wait…okay, but this could be funny and decided to write a story making fun of these super cringey stereotypes.

The story would be a multi fic and I have zero idea how to explain it concisely, so basically below the cut is just me laying it all out for you srsly I’m just bearing my soul to you:

For the girls’ birthday, the Professor tricks out the simulation room they train in to be a VR game room b/c the girls had talked about VR once (and only once), but the Professor thought it was cool and ran with it. The Girls can create a world of their choosing and explore. They admit the idea is pretty cool and eventually start arguing where they should “go” first. Blossom suggests a historical era like the Victorian era/Bubbles suggests something romantic, where she hints at vampires/Buttercup doesn't like any of those ideas, but the vampires reminded her of all of her zombie videogames she plays and she ends up suggesting something like that instead/ To prevent arguing the Professors says he’ll combine all three ideas into one!

[[how does this machine work??? IDK in the spirit of early 2000 fanfics, anything complicated and confusing is only vaguely explained—which has in story effects that drive Blossom INSANE! Idk how it would work technically, but my choices as the writer on what is/is not describe and purposeful grammar mistakes has story implications] [ill explain this more later]]

The Professor loads up the “game,” but something malfunctions. He tells the girls (Buttercup) not to touch anything. She doesn't listen and ends up plugging something into an entirely different device against Blossom & Bubbles protest. The device is that old “time machine” thing the Professor made in one of the OG cartoon (the one where the girls meet the Young Professor). It turns out that whatever she does (again still don't ask me how) fuses the basic concept of the two machines together and creates a device that transports them to a parallel universe that matches the specifications of the “game” they wanted to create.

[[Throughout the story, i want to include little video game gags, like bottomless bags for storage, or random bullets laying around, little things like that. (they've lost their powers/ but BC keeps finding all these random guns/knifes so they're good) I also give the girls the “ability” to read the dialogue I write. So, when I mess up a comma (i.e. Let’s eat Grandma! vs Let’s eat, Grandma!), Blossom will look at the “character” they’re talking to and be like, “WELL, which is IT!?”] [I know it’s stupid, but I think its so fun!]]

So, because of the video game “glitch,” the girls think for the longest time they’re actually IN a video game, but when they “go to sleep” thinking that’ll save the game and they can quit, per Professor’s instruction, they find out they can’t. Cue freak out. After the calm down, Buttercup’s like okay, listen we probably just have to beat the game! Too bad they don’t know what the game’s objective is exactly. They just know they’re dressed in Victorian Era clothes and their “Professor” is the town’s doctor? Their mother died (tragically). It’s all a bit dramatic. They start searching for clues. Eventually, they find out that the Town has a zombie problem (THANKS BUTTERCUP!), and Blossom figures if they can cure that, they beat the game. Unbeknownst to them, they are actually stuck in a stupid vampire love plot there just happens to be zombies. [Like, you can’t have one supernatural creature without another and I wasn’t going to write about werewolves.] No one in town seems to care about the undead problem. Buttercup keeps “leveling up,” Blossom’s on the verge of a breakdown, and then, finally, Bubbles meets Boomer.

Boomer swears up and down Bubbles is his fated mate. Bubbles—who is definitely interested—is like ooo so you’re a vampire, cutie? He’s broody about it. She’s like so do you sparkle in the sun?? (I absolutely love sparkles, she says). He’s like, wut?? She’s like, do you sparkle???? He’s like, uh no, the sun kind of burns my energy tho. She’s like, oh. Okay. I see. You don’t sparkle. Sooo, well, haha, okay you seem like a really really sweet guy with the whole eternal devotion thing, but I don’t think this is really going to work out between us. He’s again like WUT. Boomer gets broken up with because he doesn’t sparkle.

Vampire Butch is flat out scared of Buttercup. Like he fully admits he’s sucked infants dry of their blood; he’s why people should fear the night; he’s not a “good guy”; but BC is a force to be reckoned with. In the Victorian era, I’m guessing they had little to no experience with the modern day “bro” and BC is full on bro. This doesn’t mesh well with Butch’s broody, dark, vampire thing he’s got going on. She’s too vulgar for a Victorian lady, she wears things called “Chacos,” and she has a gun??? Multiple guns. And He. Has. No. Fucking. Idea. What. She. Is. Saying!! No! He will not “dab her up!” No, he “doesn’t lift.” This wasn’t his mysterious, tough (but still a damsel, mind you) mate he met one fateful evening, this was some heathen creature (and this is coming from a vampire), so please, please, please, can he kill her?????

Blossom’s like I don’t like to be touched and I’m a lesbian, and Brick’s like one) I think I respect you more than the old Blossom; two) the zombies just appeared, stop asking; three) you need to now help us find our mates before their eighteenth birthday or we’re all screwed.

Ready to kick ass and fight sexist stereotypes with their new “bros,” the girls set out with their new objective, hoping beyond hope that once they find the missing girls they’ll be able to go home. The girls find out that their parallel alternatives went disappearing a few days ago, so their “return” had been a relief to the whole town. [[Blossom’s like why did no one question our clothing?!?! Why are there zombies?!?!]] ugh and then, I don’t know what happens :( really. I never really ended it. They girls just constantly shit on the boys being broody vampires and kick zombie ass, like idk what else a gal could want out of a story. I feel like they end up finding the other girls. And I think that I was going to bring HIM into the mix, but it’s still just regular HIM. It turns out that HIM likes jumping dimensions to make the Girls life hell in every lifetime and has cursed the three girls living in the vampire dimension. (“I’ve got a life outside of just you, ya know.” HIM huffed, “What are you three doing here?”) It also turns out that out of all the dimensions, our Girls as Superheroes are the best at beating HIM and saving the day, so he’s extra pissy that they’re ruining his carefully crafted “historical romance vampire soap opera.” Blossom loses her shit because the historical inaccuracies are too high to now ignore, Bubbles is pissed because HIM didn’t make good enough vampires, and Buttercup’s like honestly, not a bad game, ngl. Everyone ignores her.

[[They beat HIM, free the other girls, return home, and BC obsesses over their stats sheets. Back in Vampire land, the boys are like wait a second the relationships we are now stuck in suck.] [The zombies are still not explained]]

#21 #is such a good number #my outlines #my writing #outline ask game #ppg fic outline #this is so stupid but come on I miss early 2000 fanfics #also like i said I don't know how i would even write the gaming glitches #but it would be really fun to figure out #maybe i WILL write this one someday just for the fun of it!!#lemme kno what you think #this is my last one tonight but plz keep on asking lol

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years

Text

The Sin pt. 2

The confession

Pariring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: some making out bc I want that and lots and lots of swearing

Summary: It’s an invite that went missing and feelings that got returned. Just a little late, a little unfortunate and a little unholy. In this part: Where Tommy confesses something to the reader and Grace plays a different part in it than imagined.

Here: Where Tommy finally comes home.

a/n: first of all: I am so so so so so sorry for taking ages to write this. believe me I have around 4 different versions of this, all over 3k words long. I struggled greatly with this, and it’s my own fockin fault. I think I have never, and I mean never struggled more and I hateeeee this. but it just doesn't seem to get better. I am sorry. I hope you still read and enjoy🥺

Just because I can remember @soleil-dor asking specifically...this for u. I am so SORRY fuck

My Masterlist

My doorbell ringed at the same time the church bells stroke midnight and it scared me half to death. I’d fallen asleep on the couch, only dressed in my flowy nightgown and a light blanket over my shoulders, the book had already slipped from my grip. I sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders, carefully approaching the door. I heard a rumble from upstairs, probably Elise jumping out of her bed. I sighed, deciding that I would just open the door myself.

The last man I had expected to stand in front of my door, soaked to the bone and with pale face and tousled hair was him. Not that I had expected anyone, but especially not him.

My eyes flickered over his silhouette and back to his face. There was something strange in his eyes, something broken from the inside, almost. His posture remained as always, proud, upright and unbothered but his eyes…I remember how Polly had once mentioned to him that the eyes were the doors to the soul. Tommy had just blankly stared at her, given her an unfazed look before lowly explaining that he, in fact, must’ve lost his soul in France then, because nobody would ever read him through his eyes. And I had almost believed him. Almost.

I snapped out of my thoughts and tilted my head. I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted another Shelby around at that time of the day.

The white light of a lightning flared across the dark night and made me flinch. To hell with this, I was not letting anyone stand outside my door during weather like this. With a small sigh I stepped aside, letting him pass me to come in. Elise, my loyal handmaiden who had peaked from behind my back, quickly shuffled aside, the worry still haven’t left her face. Usually it would’ve been her opening up, but I had allowed her to go to sleep already because I really wanted to finish that book...so she’s been freed from that duty. However, it didn’t stop her from come running when she heard the doorbell ring.

My eyes fell on a gun in her hand, as it suited the only handmaiden in an unprotected house. Yet I still always chuckled seeing her like this: wearing a light green nightshirt which reached down over her knees, backless slippers and a nightcap to protect her light brown curls. And then a bloody gun. I supressed a grin.

“Madam…?” she whispered as I closed the door shut, giving him a suspicious look. “It’s fine Elise. It’s just Tommy he…he’s okay. You can go to bed again. Or maybe if you would just prepare a the kettle with some hot water for tea…” I suggested, eyes trailing over Tommy. This man needed tea, urgently.

She nodded almost reluctantly before hinting a curtesy. Almost secretive she however handed me the gun, as if to make sure I could still shoot him if in need. I bit back a smile and nodded at her, before looking back at Tommy.

He had his eyes locked on me, a strong unbroken gaze. He didn’t even blink. His black coat was dripping down onto the carpet, his hands held his hat tightly. His eyes left me to follow the young frame of Elise leaving the kitchen with a nod into our direction and tiredly climbing up the stairs.

“She’s handed you a gun.” Those were the first words he had said to me since that phone call, around two weeks ago. His eyes now fell to my hands before I could place the gun down or hide it…so I wouldn’t offend him. But he’s seen it, obviously.

“She has. People are not scared enough of women to leave us alone.” I explained with a shrug, looking down at the shimmering weapon in my hand. “Y’gonna use it?” I looked up surprised. “Against who? You?” he shrugged, face blank and impossible to read. I could only chuckle at that, shaking my head and placing it down. “Obviously not?” he nodded in a matter-of-factly before suddenly grabbing my hips and shoving me against the wall behind me. His hand were everywhere and his lips left burning kisses all over my neck and jaw.

“T-Tommy…?” I could only stutter, completely taken aback by his eagerness, his neediness and his want. His cloak was still wet and cold and I could feel it soak through my thin silky nightgown as he pressed his body against mine.

“Wet.” I could only mumble against his lips before he bit down on my lower lip, urging me to stop talking. He however did start to shrug the jacket off of his shoulders, getting frustrated when it wouldn’t work. I pushed him away gently, helping him slipping out of the wet coat. it took me about ten seconds but I already missed his touch like an addict craved a line of coke. He let the probably completely overpriced coat fall to the ground and instead of picking it up he was back on my lips in no time. His hands were roaming over my body, pulling me tighter every now and then. His tongue urged me to open up my lips to let him deepen the kiss. I did, not hesitating a second. The sharp whistle of a teapot made us snap apart. His breathing was heavy, just like mine.

He stepped back in silence, letting me pass in an almost awkward silence. Tension lied heavy between the two of us, so thick and noticeable it made me dizzy. He made me dizzy.

“Is Earl Grey fine? No wait, camomile is actually better…or lime blossom…” I coughed, trying my hardest to overcome the husk of my own voice as my fingers traced along the carefully stacked tins filled with the best herbs and mixtures.

“Whisky does the job.” His husk voice caught me off guard since it was way closer than I had expected. “Lime blossom it is then. Fuck off with whisky, do you know what time it is?” he said nothing after that, his eyes silently following my every move as I set up the teapot to pour the boiling water into. There wasn’t another word spoken during the time the lime blossom soaked in, we kind of just stood there, watching the steam from the teapot and each other.

He looked worn out in the dim light of my kitchen. His skin was paler than usual, his hair a tad messier than I was used to (which could theoretically also be my fault though), his eyes less deep and colder.

Now, where he had removed his dripping coat he looked a bit less buff. Still a hunk of a man, still towering me. Especially because I wasn’t wearing heels, which was a thing I usually did, especially around men. Their ego was often big enough to treat me more like a servant and less like a business partner simply because I was a woman and they were taller. It was ridiculous really. Tommy had never treated me like this, I had never feared to be treated like an underdog. Sure, he was sly and witty, he knew how to bargain and twist everything to his profit. But that wasn’t done in a condescend manner at all. Maybe that was why I was drawn to him the way I was. The second he stepped out of his car and walked towards me, proud and seemingly uncaring of all the stares he was receiving from my workers. It had been truly stunned when he stopped, eyes wandering over my stable lad and me, before approaching me. Usually people tended to approach Gregory first, a thing I watched with great amusement. Not so Tommy, he’d approached me from the beginning. And he ended up buying one of my best horses immediately, Yastra, a horse I had never planned to sell in the first place. She wasn’t even named properly for the race tracks. Tommy couldn’t care less. He’d given the proud sand coloured steep a long look before offering his deal. Yastra still lived on my property and I still trained her, just like the two other horses he’d bought later on. Only one, a brown mare by the name of Pacific Princess II stood in his stables.

The strong and sweet taste of the lime blossom made me shake my head and snap out of my thoughts. Tea was ready and if I would leave it too long without serving, it would turn bitter. “Get me a stand from in there.” I turned to reach for the honey when I suddenly felt his presence behind me. I turned around, almost bumping into him. He had his lips on mine before I could even say something, picking off the unsaid words from my lips and swallowing them down. His tongue urged me to open up my lips to let him deepen the kiss. I did, not hesitating a second.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss, not at all. It was more like a violent, unrestrained kiss, a kiss with teeth nipping on swollen lips. He was devouring me, drinking all of my being in with one kiss, and I felt like he was sucking the air straight from my lungs.

Tommy kissed so hard it was like he was trying to leave the memory of the imprints of his lips in my mind forever. And he probably accomplished just that by now.

His hands were roaming over my body, pulling me tighter every now and then. He pushed me back against the countertop, lifting me up to place me down on it immediately.

He let out a throaty groan, splitting my legs with his body to come even closer. He tasted sweet, kissed filthy as ever and set my skin on fire. My mind was blank, all I could I think was Tommy, his hand on my back, the other one trailing shakily from my waist up, over my breast before halting at my collar bone. He brought it up to my neck, deepening the kiss even more, making it just a tad more desperate.

In moments like these it was when I realised once again how I would never ever get over Tommy Shelby, not in this life and probably not in another one. He just swept me off my feet every time. He did it when we had kissed first, needy and thrilling, in the stables a few years ago. It had been the third time we had met, this time for inspecting one of his race horses because of breeding options. Monaghan boy, a black stallion with a beautiful neck. As always, tension had lingered between the two of us like a thick fog, but he had been the first to give in. He had this thing where he liked to back me up against the wall, preferably dominant and always in charge. It had made my knees weak in an instant and it didn’t help that he had a tongue to sin with. From that day on, our meetings consisted of either heated discussions about horses and life or sex. Or both, most of the time…then he had met Grace and whatever we had, stopped. And it stopped in an ugly way, rather. I could’ve understood if he had come to me and told me that he now considered a serious relationship with someone who was not me. I would’ve let him go, heartbroken but at peace. But he had not had the decency to do so, oh no. he had rather left in a hurry with a few stuttered words about “This can’t happen anymore…I’m sorry.”

And yet here he was, for the second time since he said that and ran. And I was letting it happen again, like the fool I was. We parted swiftly to catch out breaths again before Tommy connected his lips with my neck again. He sucked lightly at my skin and left a trail of burning marks down to my shoulders. I moaned quietly as he bit down on my sweet spot right above my collar bone, and pushed his face up to mine again. Instead of kissing me again, he just looked at me, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Regretting this already?” I pushed out, almost in spite since he still waited. He quirked an eyebrow, eyes growing dark again. “Why do you always try to piss me off?” good question actually, on the other hand, who the fuck was he to ask anything. “Because you’re hot when you are angry.” He growled lowly, bringing his lips to mine again.

I don’t know what it was that broke the spell and made a weird form of panic flood my bones. Something in my brain switched when he suddenly picked me up, his hungry lips still on mine. This was a married man with a son and a wife at home. What the hell was I doing here? But before I could say something, Tommy had carried me into the livingroom and placed me on one of the couches. He was over me in an instant, pressing me down gently.

“Tommy…Tommy what are you doing?” I asked breathlessly, panting for air. He stopped, eyes flickering over my face, dark with lust.

“What does it look like.” He was equally out of breath, his voice just a tad throatier than before. I said nothing, just brushed a strand of hair out of his face. A whirlwind of emotions flickered through his eyes, like a thunderstorm of realisation, lust, angst, regret, maybe? It was quiet in the room for quite a while, only the crackling fire and wind hitting the windows could be heard. Then Tommy did something I had not expected at all: he let his head rest on my chest, arms around me, unmoving like a heavy organic blanket. My fingers found their way up to his hair, carefully brushing through the longer curls. I was still a bit taken aback by the sudden switch of attitude and mood.

“What’s troubling you, Tommy?” I asked softly, still stroking through his hair. The raw and vulnerable energy that surrounded us now, almost took my breath away. Tommy just shook his head swiftly. He wasn’t ready to talk about it, or so it seemed.

“Do y’ever wear it?”

I was confused first. Wear what? Then…my hand wandered up to my neck, as if searching for the green emerald. But there was nothing, just hot skin.

“I do. I took it off for bed.” I explained, almost physically feeling the weight of the precious stone on my collar. “Why did you even send it back?” I asked carefully, that question had lingered in the back of my mind for quite some time now. Tommy sighed deeply. “I took an envelope and…” I snorted quickly, cutting him off. “Stop bullshitting me Tommy. I gave her the necklace. Did she not like it?” He sat up, looking down at my lying frame beneath him. There was almost a sly glint in his blue eyes as his gaze met mine again.

“Someone convinced her that the heart was cursed. Gipsy magic.” I gasped in outrage. “Excuse me? Someone?” Tommy just leaned back, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Someone.” He confirmed, still that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fuck off Tommy. She probably hates me now. Good job, this is one way of keeping me away from your parties.” He let out a snort, almost a chuckle.

“That won’t be a problem anymore. You can come whenever you like.” I rose my eyebrows surprised. I felt like we were slowly getting to the reason why he appeared on my doorstep at twelve thirty in the night.

“She’s…well…she’s left.” I sucked in a startled breath. “Left? As in…ran away? Divorced?” Tommy had his face turned away from me, his eyes watching the fire in the fireplace crackle. “Left.” I gulped, not knowing what to say or do. “I am sorry…really sorry.” I only stuttered, watching the flames reflect red in his eyes. They seemed glossier than before…Jesus Christ I really had no idea how to deal with this situation as a whole. Only hesitantly I placed my hand on his arm. It was weird how I now felt so…shy touching him, when only minutes ago we were making out like our lives depended on it.

“Is it because…because of me?” I whispered, scared of his answer. He snapped back to me, eyes then trailing over my hand.

“No…she’s been married before me, you know. Only she told me that her man had killed herself after she left him.” it made sense now to me, her purple dress. A dress symbolizing that one was still mourning…and I had wondered over who, at a wedding after all.

“Turns out that he’s very much alive.” His voice was bitter and heavy of anger and I traced small circles into arm. “We’ve had an argument you know…about horses and who trains them.” My interest peaked up some more. “I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of May Carleton…” I nodded swiftly. Of course I did, she was a mutual in every way after all.

“Suppose you had something going on with that one too?” Tommy hesitated a moment before nodding quickly.

“I never loved her. It was just…sex?” he almost asked me that and I chuckled softly. “Who am I to judge Tommy. I don’t know if you had feelings for her. After all, you shouldn’t degrade what the two of you did…are we not the same?” that made him snap around to me. “We? Just sex?” his eyes narrowed and it seemed like a new fire ignited them. I waved it off, drawing another circle in his arm. He shook his head, continuing.

“It stopped when Grace came back from New York.” I hummed before waiting for him to continue. “She trained my horses…” I gave him a pointed look. “I can sense betrayal.” He gave me a pointed look.

“What?” I couldn’t help but grin. “Training your horses by another woman…I am hurt. You coward.” He shook his head slowly. “You don’t know how difficult you are sometimes.” I chuckled softly, giving him a wink.

“You love me.” He said nothing, his face falling a bit. I frowned, wanting to assure him that I was only joking but he cut me off. “Do you have whisky?” I nodded, getting up swiftly and walking over to a cabinet. “What would you like?” I asked, stepping aside for him to see the dusty bottles. He got up and walked closer, eyes wandering over the labels.

My eyes wandered over his face, that worn out but handsome face, a face that haunted me and basically ruined all other men for me. My thoughts flickered to the expression on his face when I made the joke about him loving me. I had meant to read something like guilt in his features, but why? Sure, love was a strong word and I wasn’t entirely sure if I could ever expect love from someone like Tommy Shelby, especially after he just broke up with Grace…no, after she just broke up with him. Or called off the engagement, or whatever.

“That one.” I snapped out of my thoughts and grabbed the bottle he chose. I prepared two glass of the orange brown liquor carrying them over to the couch again.

I sat down whilst Tommy kept pacing around the room, his glass in his hands. I noticed the absence of a ring and it almost felt…relieving. But then again…it didn’t. because I couldn’t help but feel guilty for all I’d done.

“She took the boy with her. To fucking New York.” He suddenly pressed out, necking the whisky in a swift move. My mouth parted in surprise and I could only stutter my words of condolence. “I’m sorry to hear that…” I started, silenced by his angry glare immediately.

“Stop lying.” I rose my eyebrows. “Lying? Why should I lie?” he shrugged, visibly frustrated now. “Can I smoke?” I shrugged, watching him light up a cigarette before turning back to me. “Because that’s what you…I don’t fucking know!” he then started, not even daring to finish his thoughts. And maybe it was that what finally ticked me off.

“You wanted to say, because that’s what I wanted? Is it that? Finish your damn sentences!” his eyes flashed up in irritation, but I went on before he could even reply to anything.

“By the way Tommy, what I want is something that should be entirely unknown by you, since you’re not me! And, just to clarify, before you use that…thing that there was on that party two weeks ago: you kissed me! I only turned up because of…I don’t know, spite, anger, whatnot. But I never intended to do anything like…what we did.” He laughed dryly. “You wanna say, you regret it?” I tilted my head, leaning back a bit. “I never said that.” He hummed, an angry glint in his eyes again. Or rather, still.

“Maybe you shouldn’t’ve turned up then, and sure as hell not given her that damn necklace…” I shook my head.

“I think we both know that this is not about you and not being able to handle her wearing some green, glittery rock.” He took a sharp breath. “By the way, do you even realise how dangerous a rumour like this is for my reputation? That I jinx stuff? Curse chains and…jewellery? There is a legit possibility of my name being ruinedbecause of your little lie.” he said no word, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, grey smoke passing through his lips.

“Are you done?” his voice wasn’t as calm and collected as usually, instead is was heavy with anger and maybe hurt. His icy eyes snapped back to mine, piercing through them as if to strip me off of all of my dignity and leave my soul linger nakedly in front of him.

“Am I done?” I repeated quietly, anger making my voice hoarse. He’d always had a special talent for pissing me off, but this was topping anything. I didn’t even knew what to respond I was so angry. “Yes, are you done. Done, because then I can tell you why the fuck I decided to send that goddamn thing away, back to you.” he took another pull from his smoke before flicking it into the fire. “Can you remember why I gave you this necklace? When I gave it to you?” of course I could, clear as day. It had been a promise, a small, weak promise to care for each other. We had been out, a lovely and peaceful walk with the horses he had just bought, the stars bright and the night cold. He’d been nervous the moment he presented the beautiful stone to me, an almost angsty flicker in his eyes, as if waiting for a rejection.

I had not rejected, obviously, and Tommy had slipped the necklace around my neck whilst pressing butterfly kisses to my neck. But still: the one who ran and broke his own promise had not been me, but him. I crossed my arms over my chest, shaking my head slowly.

“Of course I can. But it still explains nothing.” He grunted angrily. “Not, eh? Maybe that I don’t need a reminder of us around me every day?” I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You mean, you are selfish Tommy? You mean that the fact that you broke your own fucking promise, is making you regret certain decisions from your past? And I am not talking about marrying another woman, I am talking about that hit and run number you pulled there, and then not inviting me to you bloody wedding-celebration…” he slammed his fist down on the chair back, me regret my decision to jump up immediately. But I couldn’t just sit down again, I wouldn’t back off now.

“Do I look like I need a bloody reminder that I fucked up, eh? Do I really look like that to you? And you come and have the fucking nerve to…blame it on my selfishness? My selfishness? When you knew ex-fucking-sactly, what would do to me, if you gave her this necklace?” I was robbed of words to shoot back at him, stumbling back at the force of his words. He followed up, it felt like I was back in his office again.

“You don’t leave my head, my thoughts, my mind, not at night and not at day. You’re there constantly, alright? And I am…was fucking married, alright? I have a bloody kid with that woman, a life, a house, a business. I don’t need a reminder of you on my spouses neck. Fuck!” his eyes were wild and full of emotion, his breath quick and hot and grazing my lips, he was so close.

“I’m sorry.” Was all I pressed out, not exactly knowing what else to say. Tommy just shook his head. “I am sorry. I think I just…” his whole attitude changed all of a sudden, again as if all the anger and hurt left his body and left him behind tired and worn out.

“I think I just missed you.”

I carefully linked my fingers with his before pulling him into a hug. “I missed you too, Tommy. A lot, y’know?” he just buried his face in the crook of my neck and took a deep breath. After a few second he let go of me, stepping back a bit. Not far, and never fully letting go of me. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? You can have the guestroom if you need space…” he just tilted his head. “or you can sleep in my bed. With me present of course.” A shy smile played around his lips as he nodded softly. “I am comfortable if you are.” I just pulled him upstairs.

It felt different when Tommy slipped under the covers now, as if we’d never spent a night in the same bed. Which was close to ridiculous because that wasn’t the case at all. The energy just had never been so honest and so…vulnerable. I could hear him take a deep breath, before I felt his arm wrap around me. I turned around to him, glimpsing up at his face. The dark almost swallowed him whole, but I could make out a soft shimmer where his eyes were and the light from the window illuminated his silhouette.

“Are you okay?” I asked carefully, tangling my leg with his.

“Can I kiss you?” I chuckled softly, arms resting on his shoulders. “Have you not already? Like, when you ruined my nightgown, not that long ago?” I could almost hear his little smirk when he hummed, but I could definitely feel it when he brought his lips down to mine. His arms tightened around me when we parted and he let out a soft sigh.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Tommy.” I whispered, leaning into his arms. He mumbled something, words so quiet I couldn’t quite catch them. I raised my head back up.

“Hm?”

“I just…I said that I’m back home.”

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #the sin #the peaky blinders #the peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #michael gray #arthur shelby #john shelby #Birmingham #cillian murphy

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ge · 4 years

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hi so i started playing onmyoji because of you and i wanted to ask if you can give me any tips?? im at level 16 i think im doing well so far but since idk anyone who plays anything would help! sorry for bothering

HEHE YESS ok.. this got rlly long WHOOPS

so first thing u shld do while ur at a low level is get a mentor.. when i started playing i just fucked around and didnt get a mentor until i was well into lvl 40.. a mentorship is where low lvl (15 to 45 i tihnk..) players can apply for an apprenticeship and level up fast while also getting rewards such as grade darumas and a random ssr once u finish ur apprenticeship.. u can find the mentor application icon in the right side of ur courtyard.. it shld look like this!

while under a mentor u are also lvling up ur friendship which, once it reaches a certain level, it unlocks the co-op feature that u can find by clicking the scroll at the bottom right hand side of ur screen > friends > co-op tab at the bottom right side of the pop up screen... there u can access ur friends powerful shikigami that u can use a limited amount of times daily to beat hard chapters/evo/soul zones, etc etc... if ur looking for a mentor i recently finished an apprenticeship w someone so im free to help out if ur interested ^__^ (my user is @.sneer [all lowercase] if u didnt already know hehe)

join a guild if you havent already! i tihnk it prompts you to join a guild when u first start playing i dont rmbr but a couple things to rmbr.. one. if ur guild has ‘15gq’ ‘100gq’ in its notice, gq means guild quest and u like.. HAVE to do those or else theyll kick u from the guild.. u can find the guild quests by going to ur guild, clikcing the shrine tab on the bottom right, and where it says GROUP QUESTS thats it! usually theyre basic things like submit grade four souls or evo materials but u shld definitely stack up on evo materials and souls so u dont run out.. so if ur guild says 100+gqs.... i wld suggest leaving that guild for a lighter gq guild.. 100+gq guilds are like.. big bad guilds who wanna rank in the top ten soo save urself the trouble.... TWO. ur realm! ur realm comes w ur guild so if ur kicked u cant access ur realm :( i think u already know what ur realm is and what it does so i will just say .. fuse ur low level realm cards.. SAVE UR DRUMS REALM CARDS.. if its a 1*, fuse it but if its 3*+... save that bad boy..

speaking of jade... SAVE IT.. jade and mystery talismans r like GOLD.. theyre rlly easy to get in the beginning of the game but they start getting super scarce when ur lvling up and r completing achievements.. usually when u get ten mystery amulets or 1k jade ur gonna think “oh what if i get an ssr out of this summon ooh” YOU WILL NOT.. this game HATES ur ass it hates u so much it hates ME it hates EVERYONE except lvl 60s who get new ssrs and shit on their first summon... ennieway.. random chance up events r stupid scams but chance up events featuring new shikigami are not... like the one thats going on right now for sp aoandon.. these r good events... random chance up events coming up out of no where is just netease being like ‘buy more jade we want ur money ugly idiot... stupid lmao’.. so yeah hoard ur amulets and jade AH ALSO IN THE MALL go to the mall and go to GENERAL.. youll see a package that says smth like 5 daily jade or smth that costs 666 jade.. BUY THAT itll give u 5 jade daily everyday.. it also stacks up so if ur not online for a couple days u wil be swimming in it baby...

oh god what else... click ur scroll on the bottom right and at the end next to collection youll see a tab that says TEAM.. thats a very useful helpful tab bc if u ever need help or want to join in on someone elses team for loot this is where u go.. when i started playing and i was farming for hiyoribo shards i always went to the system chat and clicked rlly fast on the hiyoribo shard zone hoping i cld get in ... i did that up until i was in my lvl 40s .. ur prbly smarter than me and alreayd know abt this tab but just felt like i needed to mention it just in case.........

SHARDS... if u get enough shards u can form a summoning pact w that shikigami.. demon seals are little side quests that pop up after youve completed a chapter/exploration and they come up randomly with a handful of different shikigami... but you can also access all of the demon seals from the TEAM tab i mentioned above.... demon seals only have a handful of shikigami though not all of them so dont expect to see like ssr demon seals lol also some of the shikis u can farm from demon seals are VERY good.. ill touch on this later.. DEMON PARADE is another good way to collect shards.. in ur courtyard, click the town sign and the demon parade sign shld be the first thing u see! demon parade, unlike the demon seals, are chance thing, u might get the shards u want or u might not.. its kinda stupid... throwing beans around and shit.. itll give u a lineup of three shiki that u can choose from, if u hit the shiki u picked u get extra shards.. u might see some shiki in the parade w little lanterns over their heads, that just means they give more shards too nothing special

SHIKIGAMI... when ur looking at all of ur rare and sr shikigami ur probably thinking “this sucks these r all USELESS i want ssrs and sps >:(” well akchually... some of the best shiki in the game (for beginners especially) are rares and srs... shouzu (r), kamaitachi (sr), and hiyoribo (sr), are all farmable shikigami u can get from demon seals, if u havent summoned them already! yamausagi, a shiki u will see a LOT, is also a very easily summonable shiki so dont throw her away.. if u have duplicates of the same shiki u can PROMOTE THEM and it will level up one of their skills, just like a skill daruma! (DONT waste ur skill darumas they are soo valuable.. only use them on the shiki u use the most and want to lvl up skills on).. lvling up the skills on ur shiki increases their power and adds perks and makes them over all.. very sexy..

EDIT: added in this list of easy farmable beginners shikigami that u want to keep and build (refer to list BENEATH this one for list of roles)

kujira (sr) support

yamausagi (r) puller

shouzu (r) unique/shield **DEMON SEAL**

hiyoribo (sr) healer/revive **DEMON SEAL**

kusa (r) healer/dps

samurai x (r) cc

momo (sr) healer/revive

ushi no toki (r) unique

kamikui (r) pusher

oitsuki (sr) orbs

komatsu (sr) cc

kamaitachi (sr) puller **DEMON SEAL**

all shikigami have a certain role and its very important u know which shiki is which bc sometimes if u use them wrong u can mess up ur entire team.. here are all of the roles and some shiki examples:

dps: dps stands for ‘damage per second’ but it can also be used as a noun to describe a shikigami that is damage focused (ex. kuro mujou, momiji, hangan, mio)

cc: stands for ‘crowd control’. ccs have the ability to limit the number of enemies actively fighting during an encounter giving u the advantage (ex. enma, yuki onna, yumekui, samurai x)

pusher: pushes the enemies move bar back, giving u the advantage of going first (ex. kamikui)

puller: basically the same thing as pusher. pulls the ally move bar forward (ex. kamaitachi, yamausagi)

shield: shiki that provides a shield of some sort to protect allies without the use of souls (ex. ichimokuren, shiro)

heal: self explanatory (ex. sakura, hana)

revive: healer types with the ability to revive players w a cooldown. not all healers are revives (ex. hiyoribo, momo)

support: self explanatory.. supports allies (ex. miketsu, kujira, bake-kujira)

unique: shiki w unique abilities that cant be placed under labels (ex. hakuzosu, ushi no toki)

orbs: shiki that supply orbs to ur team (ex. aoandon, zashiki, oitsuki)

counter: shiki that counters after an enemy attack (ex. mannendake, vampire)

AND FINALLYYYYYY how to build ur shiki... while doing explorations u get free little souls.. in the beginning this will be ok since ur just starting off but actually each shiki has a perfect soul that makes them work the best.. now there are too many souls for me to actually list so as a parting gift to this entirely too long onmyoji cheat sheet, i will leave u this SHIKIGAMI BUILD GUIDE made by the nura clan.. it lists EVERY shikigami w the perfect soul for them, what role they play, and how to build them.. i touched on their roles a little bit above but i cldnt list everything so heres this.. i use it like everyday when building new shiki its sooo helpful

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1zZoMPfuA1plomt6Kq077Q9CZ3mD_0ThYzF_tIUyf28M/edit#gid=824193257

ANYWAY.. I TIHNK IM DONE.. I HOPE THIS WASNT A COMPLETE UNINTELLIGIBLE MESS... if u need clarification for anything pls ask i feel like i mashed up a bunch of words together and called it a day.. ummmm so yeah :) theres probably..... stuff... i might be missing but if theres smth specific u want to know about JUST ASK!!!!!!!!! im always looking for new omj friends...

#THIS IS SO LONG SORRYYYYYY....#i prbly cldve provided more pics to make this more coherent but im too lazy sorry king :[

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ikev-mpire · 5 years

Text

ikedaddies punishing u (together)

based on this post

(lets say comte brought everyone from all three times/universes to his mansion and so you all just live together there and you’re in some type of polyamorous relationship with too many doms lmfao good luck) (also I literally hate this I guess my brain wanted to take multiple different approaches to this so im keeping the part I ACTUALLY wanted to write simpler and I might just write a foursome for it later) (don’t go into this expecting it to be good Im not even brave enough to read over it bc its THAT bad)

first off lets start with their main dynamic. normally when all of them punish together, they take on three different roles- one per each. the punishment, the reward, and the aftercare.

it gives a sense of organization and none of them really mind- they enjoy the roles they took on.

normally, Saint-Germain handles the punishment, Sirius the rewarding, and Hideyoshi the aftercare (to no-ones surprise)

occasionally, Sirius and Saint-Germain might switch roles, because it isn't too difficult to tip Sirius over the edge and Saint-Germain does have a thing for watching.

if, somehow, you manage to piss all of them off enough to be punished by all three... god save your soul but that's a story for later

now on to the main ways to tee them off, then on to the fun part :)

Saint-Germain (ironically) doesn’t really like to share. the main way to earn a punishment from him is to play on his jealous bone

lean a little too close to Arthur, brush your hand against napoleon’s across the dinner table, fix sebastian’s hair when it falls into his eyes as he’s washing dishes... bend over a little too slowly in the dining room when Isaac drops his fork. definitely don’t wear anything revealing (though he’s bought you quite a few more revealing things to wear just for him, Sirius, and Hideyoshi) outside of your room.

Sirius hates when you question his dominance, when you tease him as if you don’t believe he’ll do anything about it. he despises when you disobey his orders, and hates when you treat either of the others as if they have more power than he does (comte in particular- he likes to be on an equal level with his other dominants but you tend to treat comte with a little bit more respect than Sirius because comte is the one who usually comes with a punishment)

Hideyoshi has admirable control over his feelings, things like jealousy don’t tip him over the edge, but the two things that will cause him to lose it, drop his self control and punish you with pleasure and light pain until you listen to him, are when you do anything to endanger yourself and when you pleasure yourself without permission

starting the fun part. their individual punishments.

they always tell one another when they have to punish you so you don’t end up with too many punishments and no rewards (theyre a very organized group of... daddies...)

they usually like to punish all together, so that all three of their roles are perfectly fulfilled, but of course sometimes it comes down to them punishing you on their own.

they do have one big rule though- they never punish you in your room. that’s your safe area and they want to keep it feeling like a safe area for you. anywhere else is cool though. and I do mean anywhere.

Saint-Germain likes to punish you in his own room. his solo punishments mainly include staking his claim. marking you as his own is a big thing when he’s jealous, so expect a lot of hickeys and biting.

he has amazing self-control, and even when he’s absolutely losing it inside, youll never know by looking at him.

he always has a calm, elegant smile on his face, at least until you look away, and his eyes narrow and darken and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

he’s all gentle teases, he loves hearing you beg for him- knowing you belong to him. his hands brush over your skin in-between bites, just barely touching you until you’re begging and pleading for him to touch you properly.

he marks you calmly, lips moving slowly over different areas of your body to stake claim with his lips and fangs so that you remember not only who you belong to, but who’s punishing you.

he tends to tie or cuff your hands- he wants you to know who’s in charge, and who’s not. hint: you’re most definitely not. ever.

he’ll stuff your own panties into your mouth and flip you over onto your front, mumbling that no-one should hear you but himself before continuing to tease you. his teasing would get worse with every punishment, making sure it would be one you wouldn’t soon forget.

just before you snapped, he’d stuff you full of his cock, pausing to let you adjust and groaning lowly in response to the loud cry of relief it drew from you.

he’d thrive off your noises, fucking you fast and rough and when you spit your panties out, he’d stuff your mouth instead with his fingers.

by the time he was done with you you’d be utterly exhausted, and so he’d clean you up and take you back to your room, calling Sirius and Hideyoshi in so you were surrounded and taken care of by everyone you loved when you fell asleep.

Sirius would generally use a bit of a rougher punishment, intent on proving to you that he could be just as good, if not better, of a punisher than the others when it came down to it.

he’d punish you anywhere he could get you alone (except your room of course), taking you into any room with a lock on the door and immediately pinning you to the wall with his body, one hand pulling your thigh up to lock around his waist and his other roughly grasping your chin to force your eyes to meet his.

he’d lean down and lock your lips, kissing you rough and deep before lifting your other leg to hold you up entirely with his own body and the wall behind you so that you were utterly vulnerable to him, smirking when you whimpered as he ground himself into your core, opened to him due to your legs being wrapped around his waist.

“what’s that little lady?” he’d tease against your lips, grabbing your waist with his hands to hold you as he stepped back off the wall, moving to find somewhere he could sit down.

as soon as he sat down he’d grind you down on his growing erection before practically shoving you off, placing you on the ground with a dark gaze before folding his arms and leaning back. “strip” he’d demand, watching you do it before patting his fully clothed thigh, silently instructing you to bend over his knee.

he’d make you count and thank him for each spank until your ass was red and raw, and then he’d pick you up and lift you to straddle his lap, grabbing your hair and once again making you stare into his eyes, smugly smirking at the tears staining your cheeks.

“will you listen to me now, little lady? or do you want me to throw you around? you want me to tease you like comte? you want me to fuck you like him?” his deep voice would ring, one hand at your waist, holding your ass down on his pants so you could feel the burn of the rough fabric against your hot skin as his other hand grasped the hair at the nape of your neck to keep you completely controlled under his touch.

he loved your whimpers, always wanting you to be louder for him.

he’d make you ride him, watching amusedly as you searched for pleasure that only he could give you until your thighs burned and you begged him to fuck you.

he’d move you to the wall again, using it as leverage to plow into him until you were crying for him.

afterwards he’d wrap you in his jacket and, just like comte, he’d take you back to your room and call the others to come help you calm down and rest.

Hideyoshi prefers to punish you with pleasure, overwhelming you until you’re shaking in sensitivity. if you carry something you know is too heavy for you or aren't careful enough with a kitchen knife and risk hurting yourself and happen to get caught, he’ll instantly scold you, taking whatever object from your hands and telling you to go back to his room while he handled this

instantly you’ll know what he has in store for you, so you’ll obey in order to keep yourself out of trouble (if you’re to really tick him off by disobeying he’ll hunt out the others for a rougher punishment that he couldn’t provide himself- he really hated hurting you in any way and therefore his punishments were always a bit weak)

if he finds you in his room obeying, he’ll immediately tear your clothes off and pin you down to the bed, tying you up with your own clothing so you can’t push him off as he leans down and presses kiss after kiss over every bit of your skin.

he won’t hesitate to let his hands wander, pleasuring you instantly. he could never resist the urge to touch you, and so he never did.

the second his fingers stuffed themselves inside of you he’d be going at an overwhelming pace, pounding into you until you came as his lips worked over your skin

as soon as you come, his lips will be trailing down, cleaning his fingers off before he starts to suck on your clit, making you whine in overstimulation and squirm to get away.

he would live off your reactions, loving the way you whined when he overwhelmed you with pleasure. his goal would be to make you cum on his tongue and fingers as many times as you could stand, tiring you out before he finally made love to you

his thrusts would be soft and slow, loving the way your walls clenched and spasmed around his dick as your body shook and you whimpered for him

“shh,” he’d soothe you, thumbs stroking the tears from your cheeks as he peppered kisses over your face. “let me worship you,” he’d hum, moving to mark over your neck. “since you never worship yourself.”

you would be utterly exhausted when he was done with you, panting and lying limp with drooping eyelids as he untied you and dressed you in the sheet of his bed, covering you entirely so he could take you to the thermae and let the hot water soothe your muscles. (he’d of course leave a note on the door to keep everyone else out) and then carry you to your room to lay with you as you slept.

NOW if you managed to piss ALL of them off simultaneously, like if you were playing with them, teasing all three in whatever way you could throughout the day to get their attention, their eyes would lock in recognition and they’d already know what needed to be done.

clearly you just wanted attention and so they wouldn’t give it to you, making you push them further and further until there was no avoiding a punishment. the three of them would stick closer together throughout the day, making sure that if one of them caught you alone they would all be there and as soon as you were alone, they’d shove you into whoever’s bedroom was the closest and all three of them would work together to keep you under control.

Sirius would have your hands behind your back, hideyoshi clearing off a space on the bed to for Saint-Germain to push you down on. Sirius would smirk mischievously, pulling your wrists over your head to hold you still as he kneeled on the bed, your head laying on his crotch as you felt his cock grow beneath your head. Hideyoshi grabbed your ankles, holding you still and kissing over your legs as Saint-Germain moved to straddle you, smiling calmly as his fingers would stroke your cheek.

“is this what you wanted, ma chérie?” he would coo, leaning down to kiss your lips as his hands wandered over your torso, finding purchase against your chest.

Sirius would watch silently as comte teased you, smiling at your whimpers and occasionally chiming in to offer comte a better idea, or a way he’d like to see you punished.

Hideyoshi would gently worship your legs and ankles with kisses and nips of teeth, massaging your feet with his hands to keep you grounded, smirking as he watched the other two punish you. “be gentle with her,” he’d croon almost teasingly, pausing to kiss up to your knee and back down before repeating it with the other leg. “she can’t handle both of you,”

he’d spur on more teasing, making you whimper in protest because you wanted both of their punishments, all three at the same time.

eventually you’d end up with comte fucking your mouth, sirius plowing into you from behind as hideyoshi watched, controlling the movements of your hand around his cock with thrusts of his hips until a larger hand wrapped around yours and sirius smirked, telling you to “do it right, or else” as he helped you pump hideyoshi’s cock until it was his turn to take care of you, using gentle pleasure and praise to bring you back down from your overwhelming high.

and that is it for now i didnt really rhink about what i was writing as i wrote it so i KNOW its unorganized and i hate it hsufjkv,

#;comte #;sirius #;hideyoshi

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

Text

fox rain | three

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | three | next • —

“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo’s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera... Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.

398 notes · View notes

possiblypeachy · 5 years

Text

tea & schemes. (11)

―; summary: getting ready for the dinner party is a lot more anxiety-filled than anyone had perhaps thought-- for good reason, too.

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 4.4k

―; warnings: light swearing. willard generally making me uncomfortable ksjdksj

―; A/N: They!! Them!! i had a burst of “let’s write” today and slammed out like half of this so please pardon any stupid mistakes kshdskd please do enjoy, however, bc i’m love Them and i want everyone else to too!

―; tags: @vamprose (bebbee) (p.s. do ask if you’d like to be tagged in the future!)

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

― ❊ ―

“Felicity!” Florence groaned, puffing out her chest perhaps more than was needed in order to prove a point. “The seams will burst if you--” Lace tightened again and she sucked in a sharp breath, “-- adjust the corset any further.”

Lissie ignored her, contemplating whether or not to tie it up or continue pulling. It appears she had decided on the latter. “Nonsense.” She unthreaded a portion of the lace, finally allowing Florence to take a deep breath, before simply making the section achingly tighter. “You’re having dinner with nobility, dear; we must accentuate those hips of yours else--”

“I think you forget that I have no plans on marrying Willard.” There was a pause. “He’s a prick.”

Lissie chortled behind her, finally tying the lace up and patting her back, making sure everything was in place. “Yes, but you have to look like you want to marry him and bear those beautiful, golden-haired children of his.”

Florence gagged, turning to collect her crinolette from the chair with a frown. “I’ll have nightmares for weeks if you’re not careful.”

The maid took it from her and gestured for her to lean over somewhat so she could shimmy it over Florence’s body. “Besides,” She began, watching on as Florence did a strange little jig, helping the crinolette settle over her hips and backside evenly. A dastardly curl tugged at the maid’s lips, “Jacob’s to be going with you, is he not?” Florence groaned, rubbing the space between her brows. “It’s not such a bad thing to make him look at your arse--”

“Lissie!” She hit the maid, stopping her from sliding petticoats over Florence’s head. Lissie did that dirty little giggle of hers before continuing with the task at hand. “I don’t-- I’m not going to--”

“Don’t lie to me, dear.” Lissie’s face was so deadpan that it made one wonder how desensitised she truly was to topics like this. Florence, on the other hand, had red-tinged ears and a twist to her lips that told of a loss of innocence. “He’s a handsome man. It’s only right that you might want to… butter the biscuit--”

“Felicity, no--”

“Perhaps a bit of dancing in the sheets?”

“I have no intention to seduce Jacob in the middle of Willard’s estate.” Florence huffed, turning to collect up her skirts and throw them over her head. “That’s… so many levels of sin and I,” Her nose upturned slightly, a certain amusement dancing about in her eyes, “am a woman of great virtue.”

Lissie pursed her lips, bending over to ensure that Florence’s dress fell properly around her ankles. “Well,” She straightened herself again, blue eyes meeting brown, “I would’ve at your age. The naughtiness makes it all the better.”

Florence’s lips curled into an inquisitive smirk, an eyebrow raised as she slid her arms into her bodice, slowly buttoning it with a look in her eyes that was enough to make any criminal confess. “I feel like there’s a story behind that statement.” She flattened the material down, spinning about in the mirror to check how she looked, before dragging her gaze back to Lissie. “Pray tell?”

Lissie rolled her lips inwards, contemplating. Then, with a sigh, she gestured toward that vanity table, encouraging Florence to sit. “Fine. I’ll tell you while I sort out your hair, though you mustn’t tell anyone-- especially not the leatherworker down the road.”

Florence gasped. “You didn’t!”

“It’s…” Lissie huffed out a laugh, clicking her tongue, “... probably not what you think.”

The sky had darkened outside, a mere strip of orange at the horizon and the beginnings of stars dotting the heavens. Florence had made a little home at the dining table, speaking with her brother about the possible events of the night. Every-so-often, he would have to hold one of her shaking hands or made a stupid joke-- as is the way of older brothers-- to calm her poor nerves. She’d end up ripping her hair out and no one wanted that; Lissie would kill him.

“When do you think the carriage driver will be here?” Her voice had a tinge of worry to it, words forced out a little faster than usual. Florence hadn’t stopped chewing her lips since Lissie had finished with her hair.

“Soon, I suspect.” Freddy had said this quickly, wanting to take a sip of tea to brace himself for the question he planned to ask next. “Why are you so… concerned about this whole ordeal? It’s unlike you, Florrie; where’s the girl that was spitting on kidnappers?”

Her mouth twisted into a smile at that, though one of her hands came up to hide it, eyes still proclaiming worry. “He-- Willard-- just feels so much more…” Her eyes dragged across the room as she searched for a word. Finally, her gaze met his again, “... serious. I’m tired of being two different people-- my name may as well be bloody... Margaret when I’m with him. Lying is harder when the prospect of marrying the villain is so very real.”

Frederick hummed, dark eyes glazed with thought. “Father wouldn’t want you to marry anyone you were opposed to. Besides,” The look he gave her was earnest, “all we need is a shred of evidence-- solid evidence-- against him and I can get him arrested myself. Speaking of which,” He turned slightly so that he could look toward the door, “where is Mister Frye?”

Florence clasped her hands together, trying to push the worry into the pit of her stomach rather than letting it loose in her heart. “I’m sure he’s nearby.” Freddy gave her an unconvinced look. “Jacob wouldn’t break his promise to me.”

“You trust him a lot.” Freddy clicked his tongue, stirring his spoon about in his tea. Then, he withdrew it from the cup and pointed it at his sister. “He’s an assassin, you know? They deal in lies and secrecy.”

“Freddy--”

He held his hands up, surrendering. “I’m just making an observation, Florrie. I don’t want you to put all of your coins in one pot only to later realise that it’s actually a tube.”

“Jacob is not a tube--”

A knock came to the door, along with muffled conversation. Freddy and Florence shot each other a look and he rose from his chair.

“It’s Jacob.”

“Or, the carriage driver.”

Florence’s expression soured and Frederick took that as his queue to leave her at the table. Good thing that he did too, else that pompous tie he wore would be strangling him.

Another two knocks rapped against their door and Freddy heard an exasperated sigh on the other side. He fiddled with the lock for a few moments before opening the door, revealing not one Frye but two. How wonderful. He felt his very soul shiver.

“-- you not tell me sooner? If you believe him to be a threat, you could’ve--”

“Evening, Freddy. Looking as handsome as ever.” Jacob squeezed in through the door, tipping his hat-- his top hat-- in greeting as he passed the police officer. Evie followed suit, too caught up in lecturing her brother to even say a quick ‘hello’ to Freddy, who looked like he’d been through a hurricane and a half without the night having even begun.

“-- warned me so I could sort it out. Aren’t you too busy doing that Pearl woman’s dirty work to be attending dinner parties?”

Jacob spun around on his heel, making Evie bump into him, which in turn only angered her further. “Why can I not do both? Didn’t you always want me to be more active in civilised society?” Florence poked her head around the doorway to see Evie clench her fist. Jacob’s head dipped to the side, as if he wanted to invade her space but didn’t want a black eye before the event. “Or, have you finally become aware that I’m the one doing all the work? God forbid that I take a night off, lest all of London fall, right, Evie?”

“You’re impossible!”

He blanked her and peered around his sister in hopes of meeting eyes with the sergeant. “Where’s Flor, Freddy?”

“Why must you always have your own agenda, Jacob?” Evie tried to interject to very little avail; her brother had no desire to continue their argument. He was there for Florence and, by God, he wouldn’t disappoint.

Frederick pointed loosely in the direction of the dining room, other hand raised to his forehead as if that might protect him from an oncoming headache. “Over there, anxiously eating this morning’s loaf, most likely.”

Florence, by this point, had hidden herself from view again, debating on whether she should barge into the kitchen to ask for comfort from Lissie or to suck it all up and face the rage of Evie Frye and the inevitability of tonight’s dinner plans. Just as she was about to decide on the former, hands fumbling with the door to the kitchen, three bodies turned the corner and stopped in place, watching her pat down her dress as though that was all that she had ever planned to do. Florence was a smart woman, but this was one of the occasions in which she certainly was not.

“Hello.” She said, voice wavering in such a way that she sounded like a prepubescent boy. Jacob’s lips tugged upwards.

“You look beautiful.” He replied. Freddy grimaced and Evie rolled her eyes to the side, disgusted by the prospect that their respective sibling might ever feel romantic emotions. Admittedly, however, neither could deny that Florence did look particularly dolled-up for the occasion-- what with a dress that almost matched her eyes in that golden-brown hue and loose curls framing her face. Not to say that she didn’t look nice enough any other day-- anyone who said otherwise would get a pointed look and a scowl-- but Florence had really gone all out for this dinner. There was a tiny part of his heart that felt a pang at this-- why had she put so much effort in for him?-- but he pushed it aside; she was doing what she-- everybody-- thought was right.

Florence’s lips tugged upwards and she took a few steps towards him, keeping them separated by a few chairs around the dining table. “You…” She took in his appearance, “... clean up nicely.”

He barked out a laugh. “Ah, thank you, dear Flor.” He took the liberty of moving towards her, throwing a glance at Freddy to assess how he felt on the situation. Her brother had a hawk-like glint in his eyes, sure to bat any wandering hands back to their respective owners-- whether Jacob’s or Florence’s.

Upon seeing this, she huffed a laugh through her nose and swept around the dining table-- a task that is not difficult to do when wearing such a dress-- to wrap Jacob into a hug. “I like the hat.” She murmured into his shoulder, careful to not mess up the hair that had taken Lissie so long to pin into place. Jacob’s hands hovered for a few moments, taken aback by this show of affection in front of her brother, but quickly threw all caution to the wind and accepted her embrace, planting a chaste kiss atop her head.

At that exact moment, Lissie opened the door from the kitchen, broom in hand, only to immediately coo over the pair of them, a hand pressed to her cheek and all. “Look at you couple of sweethearts!” Jacob and Florence pulled away from one another, though his hand lingered on the small of her back for a few moments before retracting. Florence’s look to the maid was filled with desperation-- a want for her to just stay quiet. Lissie was a loud woman, however. “See, Freddy?” She leant the broom against the dining table so she could take Florence’s face in her hands and squeeze her cheeks together, forcing her to face her brother. “You can’t stop young love.” When her eyes met Frederick’s, they shared a similar look of despair. Then, as her sight trailed to Evie, wondering what she might think of the whole situation, she was met with a look of confusion. Florence would’ve sighed, had her cheeks not been pushed together so tightly.

“Whve do lishen for dhe carrige drivuh.”

Everyone’s brows drew downwards in confusion.

Florence tried to huff to little avail and batted Lissie’s hands away. “We have to listen for the carriage driver.” There was a small chorus of ‘oh’s, to which Florence rolled her eyes. “It is as though I’m the only person here that has any worries about tonight.”

“I doubt he’ll-- what?-- poison us or anything.” Freddy said in an effort to calm. If anything, however, it merely made his sister angrier. The chance of him being strangled with his own tie was increasing once more. “For all intents and purposes, we’re simply going to a dinner party because this Willard bloke sees a future for you both. If he does anything-- this soon after his brother being arrested-- he’ll be throwing his entire family in the doghouse.”

Evie narrowed her eyes. “Willard Molyneux-Herbert? That’s the Willard we’re talking about?” All eyes landed on her, inquisitive, though Jacob’s gaze held a small inkling of annoyance too, borne from a desire for his sister to stay out of this business. “Mister Green has been looking into his family for a while. They’re incredibly guarded, despite being in the public eye so often, and their grounds often have Blighters loitering about-- Jacob,” Evie furrowed her brows, gesturing somewhere as if the entire ordeal was laid out in front of them like a set of blueprints, “if you had actually told me of this matter--”

Three knocks rapped at the door and an obvious sense of relief washed across Jacob’s expression. “Well, dear sister, duty calls--”

“Jacob, no--”

He shuffled himself behind Florence and began to bump her out of the door, Freddy having already gone to greet the carriage driver. With a sing-song lilt to his voice, he replied, “Jacob, yes!” and kicked the door closed with his foot, leaving Evie and Lissie alone.

The maid placed her hands on her hips. “I have a bit of stew on the hob back there, if you’d like some grub before you leave?”

Evie turned to look at her, fatigue the only readable thing on her face, and nodded, pulling out a chair and plonking herself down upon it. “That would be lovely.”

The carriage ride there was tense. Well, Florence thought it was, at least. Her thumbs wouldn’t stop fiddling with one another and even Jacob’s constant poking at her brother barely made her smile. There was just this… sickness in the bottom of her stomach that told her something wasn’t right-- especially after what Evie had said-- and Frederick appeared to be sharing the same worries.

“What do you think she meant?” Florence finally asked as they were carted down some bumpy, dirt road. “Why would Mister Green be looking into his family?”

Freddy chewed on his lip. “His brother was obviously a threat to society. Maybe Mister Green just wanted to keep tabs on a dangerous family?” Florence and Jacob shared an unconvinced look. “I don’t know! I don’t know. All we can do is be careful, I suppose.”

“Do you not know anything about them?” Her gaze turned to Jacob, concern so prevalent in her eyes that it was almost as though the emotion had weaved itself into her very being.

There was a small moment in which Jacob felt bad for not having told his sister about the ordeal earlier; she could’ve told him all they knew about Willard’s family and Florence wouldn’t have been so torn up about the situation. It was difficult not to frown upon seeing her so upset. “I don’t; I’m sorry. Though, I suspect Evie and Greenie know very little too. We’ve been too busy with the Templars and the Rooks at the moment to look too far into some… poncey upper-class family.”

Florence breathed a laugh out through her nose. “Let’s hope they’re merely that.”

The rest of the carriage ride was quiet, with the occasional complaints about the bumps in the road or Freddy trying to keep the lovebirds from becoming too chummy in the back of the carriage. Hand holding was not allowed in front of him! Besides, he would live and die by the fear of the driver somehow sensing that Florence, his master’s ‘beloved’, was fawning over another man.

When they finally arrived, none of them had expected the size of his grounds and the ornate decorations strung about his estate. Florence, in a manner very much like a long-lost princess being shown the home of her recently found royal family, peered out of the window with her mouth agape and a wondrous glint in her eyes. Jacob seemed to be doing something similar-- even with the princess-esque vibe-- to which Freddy was overcome with an immediate sense of tiredness.

“Honestly,” Jacob turned to her, a little quirk to his lips, “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to marry him.”

She hit his arm, the dimple appearing in her cheek for the first time today. He laughed, though it also sounded like an ‘ow!’, and plopped himself back down in his seat. Florence did the same, mischief in her eyes. “He’ll have to buy me a really nice horse first.”

“I have no chance, do I?” Jacob feigned hurt, holding a hand to his heart. “My own lady, betraying me for a stallion.”

“I suggest that we-- you-- stop with your… banter.” Freddy interjected, earning him looks of innocence from the other two. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Florrie, you’re in love with Willard. Jacob, you’re merely our… manservant--” Florence stifled a laugh at this and her brother shot her a sharp look, “-- which means no comments, no compliments, and none of your stupid comedy.”

“Okay,” Jacob huffed out a laugh, “No comments, no compliments, and no comedy: the three Cs. I’ve got it. I’ll be the best manservant the world has yet seen.”

Luckily for Jacob, the carriage slowed to a stop, preventing Freddy from trying to wring him out like a towel. Two thumps hit the side-- the driver signalling that they were finally there-- and Jacob pushed the door open, shoes crunching down on gravel. Freddy clambered out first and, much to Jacob’s disappointment, didn’t use their servant’s hand to help get out of the carriage. Florence, however, would never be beyond taking a chance to hold his hand and, as he helped her out, a little squeeze came to her fingers in an act of reassurance. She glanced around briefly, ensuring that no one was peeking at them through the many windows of the house and that the driver was on the other side of the carriage, before leaning up to place a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. He gave this little, conflicted smile, wanting nothing more than to reciprocate the gesture, but by the time that he would’ve made up his mind, Florence and her brother were already walking towards the grand doors of the house.

It was a beautiful estate and, honestly, Florence would be lying if she said she was unimpressed. Most people dreamt of living in such houses-- castles-- one day, though Florence refused to allow the thought of spending the rest of her days like a noblewoman to influence her image of Willard. He may be absurdly handsome and have that kind of wave to hair that made him seem like some sort of demi-god but he was a prick and Florence would try her best to remember that-- even if he does serve chicken fricassee. She narrowed her eyes. He would be a bastard if he served chicken fricassee.

“I have a feeling that me, being a police officer, and him, having a family now known for criminal activity, won’t be getting on particularly well.” Freddy leant to the side slightly so he could speak quietly to his sister. “I mean, what am I going to talk to him about? ‘Oh, yes, remember when I arrested your brother for mutilating his patients? Good times.’”

Florence’s lips twisted into a smile that suppressed laughter and a hand came to her brother’s arm. “I doubt he’ll be speaking much to you. Remember: I’m the subject of his affections, much to my own discomfort.”

Frederick grimaced at the thought. Why did all this happen to his little sister?

The carriage driver-- a short, middle-aged man-- hurried past both Jacob and the siblings to open the door and announce their arrival. However, it seemed as if their presence was already known; the door swung open to reveal Willard himself, all dressed up and hair slicked back, the colour of his suit a beautiful navy-- much like Florence’s favourite colour. She already felt uneasy and Freddy’s hand came to her elbow to gently usher her forward, though whether this was in an effort to comfort or to subject her to Willard’s greeting first she was unsure.

“Florence, it seems you have stolen the beauty of Aphrodite herself tonight.” He took a step outside, arms held outwards in a manner that was uncomfortably similar to someone beckoning their pet. “It is lovely to see you, sweet thing.”

Both men beside her tensed, for different reasons altogether, but it was comforting, nonetheless, to know that she wasn’t the only one that was feeling the weight of Willard’s words. However, despite the terrible feeling in her stomach, Florence’s lips curled into a polite smile-- dimple nowhere to be seen-- and walked toward him, steps unsteady beneath her skirts. “It’s been too long already, Willard. I must’ve spoken my maid’s ear off about tonight.” She placed her hands in his and he pulled her towards him in an embrace.

It was at this point that Willard seemed to grow cold, pale eyes boring into the manservant over Florence’s shoulder. They parted rather abruptly, her eyes wide, and Willard slid past her to regard the other two. “You must be Sergeant Frederick Abberline, no?” He held his hand out to shake, though his disposition was hardly as welcoming anymore. Freddy’s hand was shaken far more vigorously than he’d expected, shoulder jarring quite uncomfortably. He was barely able to get a word in lengthways, either; Willard had moved onto Jacob. “And, you, are Jacob Frye. I was unaware that others would be coming too.”

Florence’s fingers wrapped around Willard’s arm, her face appearing in the corner of his eye. “He’s paid to help us around the house and on outings by my father; the poor old man gets worried about the wellbeing of his youngest. It would send him into ill health if he knew that Mister Frye wasn’t here.”

“Well,” Jacob and Willard’s eyes were locked for far too long, manly pride likely being the reason for them staring the other down. Willard finally broke away so that he could look at Florence, an uncomfortable smile tugging at his lips, “he needn’t be there while we eat. There’s a parlour he can read in or perhaps the servant’s quarters are more fitting.”

Jacob bowed slightly. “Whatever the sir wishes. I aim only to serve.”

Florence pushed down a grin, her eyes meeting Jacob’s in a fleeting glance-- a brow raised just enough for him to notice-- before she was turned by Willard and escorted into the estate.

The house was pleasantly warm with the aroma of, what was most likely, their dinner wafting about the halls already. In that moment, Florence realised that she’d have to put dinnertime etiquette into use; she couldn’t gorge herself on potatoes like usual, she supposed. What a shame.

The interior was just as grandiose as the exterior, with plush red cushions strewn about on lounge chairs and golden-framed paintings on every wall she could possibly see. Florence was half surprised that there wasn’t ambient piano music echoing into every corner of the house. As they all turned a corner, they were met with the meek little smile of a worker who half-bowed and scurried away like a rat caught stealing bread. There was a strange sense of uneasiness in the interaction, though Willard paid it no mind, guiding Florence along the halls with a hand to her lower back.

Doors were pushed open with his free hand to reveal the dining room: a splendid interior with mahogany wood and a freshly picked vase of peonies, snapdragons, and daffodils. A pretty collection of flowers, she thought, though perhaps a tad too extravagant for her taste. Dishes clattered as cooks worked to lay out the table and-- what is that? Florence looked about for a few moments before meeting eyes with a pianist on the other side of the room. She could’ve laughed; there was the piano music she’d expected.

“I do believe,” Willard stepped to the side, an arm out to the side to welcome them into the room, “that our wonderful chefs have prepared a cream of celery soup for our starter.” Florence moved past him first, his body leant uncomfortably close to hers. The smell of him was overwhelming-- almost reminiscent of the feeling one gets by watching an urchin being given a shilling by a lord; nice but in an achingly condescending way. Then came Frederick, his nose leading him; the poor man hadn’t eaten yet today and was willing to disregard the anxiety weaved so deeply into every aspect of the room if only to get his hands on some of that soup they were serving. Jacob would’ve followed suit, had the lanky frame of Willard not stepped before him. Green eyes bore into hazel. “The rest of the workers usually spend time in the room just down that corridor.” He pointed over Jacob’s shoulder, though Jacob had yet to turn and look in that direction. “Someone will call for you when they’re leaving.”

The sheer amount of restraint that Jacob had to practice to not make it obvious he wanted to break Willard’s nose was quite impressive. Instead, his lips twisted into a tight smile and he nodded. “Of course. You won’t hear a peep out of me, Mister Molyneux-Herbert.” With that, Jacob turned on his heel and disappeared from sight. Satisfied, Willard closed the doors to the dining room.

Jacob rubbed his hands together, taking a swift left to go upstairs, a certain devilishness to his every expression and movement.

What a fool.

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed: syndicate #ac: syndicate #jacob frye #jacob frye x oc #jacob frye x reader #florence abberline #writing #looking at my own work for too long is making me like it less and less #so take this while i still deem it acceptable #however i will always reinforce the fact that they are Beby #maybe they should uuuhhhhh ;))) in the next chapter hmmmmm

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

Text

Two broken hearts, a man and a woman (Some big ol' Samuel Drake headcanon story)

A/N: I am not broken-hearted, don't take it as such. I don't even have a relationship and most likely a heart. This is for my dear friend who is through that shit. She asked for this, so I am only delivering.

Mood for this: Shallow and Always Remember Us This Way by Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper, bcs I'm not over that fucking movie even after a month I've seen it.

❕If you're sensitive, be aware that this doesn't have a happy ending, alright?❕

Let's start from the begging, not from the end.

You haven't met by a coincidence, to be honest.

Your friends were far too clever for that (those little bitches).

You've been single for a long time and they were like:

"Ah, that Drake boyo is a dreamy one. Funny, charming, nice..."

"Shut up, Carmen. Not interested."

But they didn't listen tho. They arranged a concert of some not-so-known couple in a pub near to your home. So you couldn't say that I can't come bcs I would get home late and I'm actually working, Carmen, one of us must be the adult one, ya know?. Sly foxes, those friends of yours.

And then, all of a sudden, there that man was.

Maybe he was a bit too much older for you. Maybe more experienced. Maybe more sympathetic than you were. But that was something that attracted you to him.

He told you that his name is Sam, but a sweet little princess like you can call him Sammy. (And you chuckled, didn't you? Don't lie to me. I heard you.)

So you sat on those bar stools, drank beer and listened to those sweet ballads that were sung by the couple for the other one.

"They're kinda sweet, I'm not gonna lie," he said.

"Yeah. I feel how I am melting because of their love."

He was drinking beer in a sexy manner as well as he was smoking his cigarettes. You didn't mind that he's a smoker, because one of your exes was. He spoke in a sexy manner... Girl, you were into him big time.

Carmen was right apparently.

He walked with you to your home, covering you in his denim jacket, because it was raining heavily. You laughed and run through the streets, laughing like two children.

That's when you told yourself that you didn't see him for the last time.

And fuck, that kiss at your door. He held your face in his palms tightly as he tried to make-out, your breath away. Your tongues danced in a weird manner because it was your first kiss.

You had to learn a lot of things about each other. How to kiss each other, how to make him laugh, his routines and strange addictions and so on.

At the end of that kiss, you both laughed as crazy and you actually rose your hands up and danced and sang in the rain.

Your old neighbor wasn't glad.

"Can I see you again, miss Y/N?"

"I think I can arrange that, somehow. You know, I have a lot of work and I am a bit busy these days."

"So you're a busy and a bossy woman, I see. I kinda am into that, just to let you know."

"Go!" You cried out, laughing. He was unbelievable. "Go or you'll miss your bus."

Later you realized that you kept his jacket.

And you smelled to it all night long, even tho it was so wet that water was dripping from it.

And so, you were falling in love again. And it felt so good.

He was really funny and charming. And even tho he looked like the biggest womanizer of them all, he was actually a sensitive and romantic soul.

Him playing on guitar for was a sure thing. (Maan, just imagine him singing Shallow for you as if it was meant to be sung only for you... Gee.

His voice mesmerized you and you always curled up into a ball when he started to sing, smiling at him and running fingers through your hair. Your eyes were shining as you watched his fucking long fingers smoothing the guitar.

You had your spot under a tree on a cliff above the town, where you sat and sung because you thought that no-one will hear your terrible voice there; but to him, it was angelic.

He even sang a song that he wrote for you at that place for the first time. You cried like a little girl.

He bought you a bouquet of flowers for every chance he got. Your birthday? Yep. Your name day? Of course. Something big happened at work? A beautiful bouquet of sunflowers was a sure thing. When he couldn't think about anything else than you? Expect some delivery service dropping off flowers at your door.

When he felt like it, he cooked for you.

He must help your hand every time you were out in public together.

Sometimes he disappeared for a month or two, because of his work, but you could expect some darn expensive stuff coming by mail almost every week. And a ton of calls and sweet texts, images of the surroundings... He couldn't think about anything but you. He was into you just as much as you were into him.

And his kisses were deeper and much sweeter when he got home.

You guys moved together after a year of dating (Camila yelled Finally! when you told her.)

He had a lot of things and even though you joked that maybe he'll have to throw out a lot of them because you hadn't the space for that, it finally felt like home. You weren't alone at all and it felt right.

He tidied up after himself, his clothes were neat and he was the dishwasher of your home. Those were the ground rules.

Only after he moved in, you started to make love to each other.

He didn't want to rush at all. Just... When you felt like sleeping with him, then you two started to love each other physically.

He was a really tender lover per se. He was ghosting over your skin when there was a rainy night and you two couldn't fall asleep. He loved to kiss you gently on those sweet spots on your chin and shoulders.

Most of the times, you were the one touching the stars in the end, because he lived for the sight of your body trembling and your lips whispering his name like if you were praying to god.

But when you felt like, he was into everything you wanted. When you were curious and wanted to try something new? Let's do it!

First I love you came about after a year and a half of your dating.

You were just sitting on your balcony, playing with your hair and reading a book when he came with an ice-cream in his hands, slowly licking it from his spoon.

"I am in love with you," he said and you shot your look at him with your opened as if you misheard what he said. You loved him as well, sure thing. It could be felt within your touches and laugh, he was making you happy. You felt like if you were flying in the clouds when you were with him. "You know that, right?"

"Samuel, I-I... I love you as well, hope that you're aware of that, baby."

"Lovely!" He exclaimed as if it was one thing off the list and even tho you saw the joy in his eyes. He couldn't be more excited and the joy just brightened him up instantly. "You up for some Brooklyn Nine-Nine?"

"Sure thing."

You two were something that everyone wants to find in their lives.

You were the funny and dork couple who laughed and joked around a lot, but even tho, could be seen that you're so madly in love that nothing else mattered when you were together. He was caring and you were empathic, he had a lot of crazy ideas and you just agreed. It was like if you were just made for each other.

Almost every one of your friends loved to spend evenings with you two. You even weren't that much of kisses and touches in front of people, you kissed only once a time and he was hugging your shoulder, that was the most intimate you got in society, leaving the rest to your flat.

Maybe you were the favorite couple because you didn't make others awkward. Who knows?

If I say that his family loved you, then I'll not be using the right words. They adored you.

Especially his younger brother Nate, who was still a lot older than you, and his niece Cassie, who even started to sleep over at your place.

He played with her on a knight who killed dragons and sometimes they were pirates.

He kissed you a lot when they were running through your place and Cassie was yelling her lungs out.

"Let that innocent woman be, you dirty dog!" Cassie yelled at him a shoved the tip of her wooden sword to Samuel's leg as he was hugging your waist, kissing your neck and whispering you about how you two will be playing when the night comes and Cassie finally falls asleep. You were laughing and that made his heart jump happily.

"Oy, I can't, I think she's that red big X on my map."

"Let her be, you sea rat!"

"Cassie, for a British soldier, you know a bit too much of pirates' slang."

Nathan became your best friend more than a brother-in-law. He was more of an outside person, more than Samuel - the couch person, so Nate took you on trips on the bike, roller skates, hiking and visiting some old places. His wife Elena usually went as well; you let Cassie on Samuel's neck.

But he was totally ok with it.

On your second anniversary, he took you to the pub where you met - and this time, you were the couple who was singing. He played his guitar and you were shy from the start - but you totally rocked in the end. (YOU DEFINITELY SANG SHALLOW.)

And since then, they let you sing there every month. You built a friendship with the workers who were there and this pub became your all-time favorite.

Around seven months later, he started to act weird. He didn't look as happy as always, he was working a bit too much, leaving early and coming back late in the night.

So one night you have just waited for him:

"What's happening with us? Are you tired of me? Are you tired of this? Of us? Speak up your colors, Samuel Drake."

"Y/N, are you even listening to yourself? What's gotten into you?"

"You tell me, you aren't at home all the time, you stopped calling me during the day, you pretty much don't cook, I feel like I'm living here all alone. You just come home at night, you let me suck your dick and then you go to sleep - and then repeat."

"Y/N," he inhaled slowly and sat on the opposite side of your table, taking your hand in his and looking directly at you. Your stomach shrank and you were about to cry because of how afraid you were. "I was just wondering about something and you don't have to be afraid at all. I love you, you remember? Good. We know each other for almost three years now, but it feels like forever. I want you to become one of the Drake's, to be mine, to become my wife."

And so you were engaged all of a sudden. You couldn't feel happier, you loved that man, cared for him deeply and there was no one more important than him.

And he felt the same way as well. He was sure that you were the woman who he was searching for all the time. He was sure of it. He knew it. You were the first thing he saw in the morning and the last person on his mind every day of his life with you. He wasn't sure if you would agree and he was so worried that you wouldn't that he couldn't be at home - but it was alright after that.

He bought you a beautiful diamond ring which suited your hand as no one before you.

All got into the same point you were before - but now, he was your fiancé.

Life felt the same, loving and sunny, but the wedding was quickly approaching.

Then it started - his alcohol addiction.

You told yourself that it is a phase because he was a free man; that he must've been nervous because he was about to become only yours. You told yourself it was pre-wedding stress.

But it was way worse when you started to prepare the details of your big day (dress, theme and the church was already booked) and you prepared it with Nathan because Samuel was constantly almost poisoned with alcohol.

He woked you up in the middle of nights because he wasn't even able to go home on his own feet.

You sat next to him, holding his hand and smiling at him, helping him to vomit, cleaning his face with a wet towel, hoping that it'll be over soon.

You were seriously in love with him even after all the drunk escapades he had and after all that public humiliation he caused you. You were blind, so blind.

About your wedding day - it was a catastrophe. He didn't even come and you became one of the brides, who were left in the church all alone only to cry their eyes out.

You couldn't find him after that, running the downtown in those snow white princess dress with your make up smudged. You were crying all the way home - and he sat there on the bed with his face in his hands and completely red eyes.

Nathan just nodded at you, mimicked that he'll be behind the door just in case that Samuel even started to take some drugs.

"You stupid, selfish, ignorant cock. You left me there, waiting for you two hour in front of that dumb altar and crying my eyes out. Where, for fuck's sake, have you even been?!" You yelled at him, throwing the bouquet of white roses to the corner. He looked at you, looking like a kicked dog with eyes red from crying, a hand in front of his mouth.

"I think that we have to talk, princess," Samuel smiled at you sadly and he was about to cry again. He was even sober and you almost couldn't believe your eyes.

"I'm listening, my love," you kneeled in front of him and you smoothed his chin in a gentle manner. Your heart pounded heavily as you were afraid of what he's about to say.

"I didn't come today, because of one reason. I think that you don't need a selfish, idiotic, ignorant utter cock in your life. I'm sure of it. You're a perfect woman who is funny, lovely, so hot and so intelligent it isn't even possible and I don't want you to waste your life with a dick like me. You shouldn't be kneeling, because you're not going to like the things that I'm about to tell you, lovely floweret," he stood up and left you on the ground as you started crying like a child.

"Samuel, what's wrong? I love you so much, are you even aware of that? Now you are scaring the living hell out of me." You whispered in a broken voice as you watched his back. He always smiled at this - but not this time.

"The problem is that I am completely aware of your love for me, Y/N. And I just can't live with it anymore, I can't live with myself when I am lying to the woman whom I love," he took a glass and smashed it on the ground. "The truth is that I fucked and I am fucking another woman. I swear to you that it is not emotional, at least not for me. We fucked once a few days before I decided to make you mine and mine only. But now... She's pregnant." He smoothed his face and you stopped crying. You weren't even breathing. You were shocked as you tore the dress from your body, you threw the high heels far away and you put on some old shirt, you didn't know if it's his or yours and jeans, leaving immediately.

What hurt the most? He didn't try to stop you. He didn't run after you. He wasn't calling your name. He hasn't done a single thing.

He knew he fucked up so much that you were not able to ever forgive him. He dug is own grave when he let that bitch lure him into her bed and that pregnancy? That was the last inch before falling off the cliff.

And he hoped that the alcohol will scare you away. But you stayed even tho because you were just so pure and so in love.

So he had to break your heart ultimately for you to realize that he is a selfish dick who just poisoned you and with whom you lost almost three years.

You run away that evening to the woods even tho it was raining, still having that beautiful braid on, sitting under a tree and looked over the town, crying your eyes out.

Sully nor Nathan couldn't find you, because that was your place; now it was only yours.

You came to Nate's place when it was midnight, almost froze out because of the rain, you slept in the living room, quietly kissing the engagement ring and slowly drown in the pain.

The other day you went to your place - and he was already gone. His things all gone- from his toothbrush to his trainers. Only the smell indicated that he visited that place. You just stood there and cried to your very own palms.

You were all alone again. That flat felt empty and you did as well. For a solid week, you didn't leave it, just laying in your bad, eating sweets and watched some romcoms.

Carmen and Nathan took care of you and they promised it will be better with time, which you didn't believe. You felt like shit.

But after a month or two... Your life was back on and you were able to talk and smile, even tho your heart hurt still. But you slowly started meeting new people, new places, you slowly became a normal human being again, still wearing that ring, only wore him on your right hand.

You didn't love him anymore, but it kept sweet memories, just as your photo collection you loved so much. You and Nate went through it a dozen of times when all of it happened six months ago. He was your love for three years, maybe he was the love of your life. You had some fond memories with him which made you laugh.

The baby wasn't his in the end. It was some black-skinned senator and she just wanted Samuel to be to one bcs the senator did not want to be seen with her or his child.

You didn't have any relationship ever since you just wanted to be free and careless.

When a year passes by, you were a new woman. You changed your hair by cutting it down, you completely changed your wardrobe to more racy and tight, squeezing your body right and you exercised a lot. You felt as good as never before.

And somehow, you found yourself in the pub. I mean, THE PUB. You didn't even realize, but Carmen knew. It brought only the best memories and Carmen cracked when you tell them to her.

All of a sudden you felt guitar movements so crawled under your skin, that you wouldn't change it with anyone else's style of plucking. Carmen knew all along because he never stopped the monthly visits.

He looked like a broken man, with his thick beard and long hair. He had some silver in it. He aged almost ten years since you broke up. You weren't disgusted, he looked sexy even after all of that, but you felt pity in your heart.

And then he plucked the right strings and your world stopped. You looked at him, almost freaked out, without breath and you felt your heart pounding happily. He closed his eyes and sung that duet from that Bradley Cooper movie he loved. You always sang it together. So you smiled, even more, got up and went to him.

You smiled at the faces you known a year ago, and they even had a problem recognizing you with such short hair. You looked like someone else. But as soon as they figured it out, everyone started clapping a whistling loudly, which made Samuel get from his inner space as he watched the high heels on your legs.

You smiled to your hand and waved at everyone, looking at Samuel after that. He stopped playing, putting the guitar aside and inviting you with his look.

So you sat on his knee as you always did, hugging his shoulder tight and smiling as your mood slowly lowered to a romantic one. You put your right hand on his messy beard as you supported guitar with your thigh and started to sing her part as he started playing.

It was very intense. You held him like a lover holds lover, your stare didn't leave his the whole time and his body felt hot as his dick got completely hard because of your presence. You still did some magic to him.

You almost kissed Samuel when he was playing the last chords like you always did before. But you stopped a few centimeters from his lips as you felt the beard scratching them. Instead of that you smiled lazily, lowered his head with your palm and you let your lips kiss his forehead as he gracefully leaned into your body. It was almost like if he dies and God let him to heaven. Everyone was almost crying because you hugged him tightly, you played with his hair and then he kissed your long and beautiful neck as thanks.

But you were his heaven. Heaven that forbidden entrance for him.

There was no need for words after that as you smiled and stood up from his lap. You smoothed his hair behind his ear and smiled, opening his hand for you.

You slowly got the engagement ring off your hand and gave it to him, slowly closing his palm. Then you walked away. And he felt like everything ended.

But then you looked at him again when you were leaving with Carmen and he knew the language your eyes spoke.

Maybe you damned and you'll never be able to love him again. Maybe he fucked it up too much. Maybe this was the end.

But you encouraged him with a witty smile and shining eyes because you felt that connection when you sang as well as he did.

So he kissed that ring and hid it on a safe place, thinking about his next move.

#uncharted #samuel drake #sam drake #hell yeah #uncharted fanfiction #a thief's end #have a lovely day #samuel drake x reader #samuel #samuel drake headcanons #uncharted 4 #i love him #i love

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