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muniimyg · 7 months

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ALONE TOGETHER // MYG

you’ll always be his first choice

yoongi spends too much time convincing you to not be anyone’s second choice all the while he remains yours

pairing: (protective) best friend yoongi + oc

au/genre:

best friends to ???

crush au

fluff, slight, one-sided pining

warnings:

mentions of cheating

explicit language

feelings of being second choice

note: originally posted on @/meowachi ,, revised !!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @prdshobi @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns

There’s an unfamiliar tension that invades the space between you and him.

You’re fidgeting with your hands, trying your best to avoid eye contact. He’s here. Of course, he is. It’d be much more unlike him to not be. Yet, he stays silent, unable to pick a thought to express first.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed as he stands, leaning against your door frame. You can’t really make out what his facial expression is, but there is a weight of disappointment that presses your heart. It all feels too heavy—all too real. It didn’t need to be like this but the days of your avoidance fell in vain as the recently confirmed rumours exposed every bit of privacy you’ve been trying to keep.

“Yoongi—“

“Don’t.”

He exhales heavily and takes a step forward. “I.. I should’ve known better. I should’ve been here earlier.. I could have been. If you let me, you know?” Yoongi gives you a puzzled look. It was as if he was offended at your lack of needing him. “... And that’s the part where I’m confused.. Why didn’t you call me?”

He makes the move first.

He sits next to you and places his hand on top of yours causing your fidgeting to stop. You look up and him and he feels like he was just punched in the stomach. Perhaps it was your tired expression and your dull eyes—whatever it was; it hurt to see you look the way you do now.

You move your hand away and shrug. “Does it matter? You’re here now.” You say in an attempt to lighten the mood. He glares at you, refusing to give in to your words. A moment of silence falls upon you two again.

“So.. How is he?” you ask Yoongi. Instantly, he groans in frustration.

Are you serious? Were you always this annoying?

“Jimin dumps you for the girl he told you not to worry about… And you’re asking if he’s okay?” Yoongi’s words feel like salt being rubbed into your open wounds. “Not to mention that he practically cheated on you.”

You look at him with a soft smile but no words come out of your mouth. What was there to say? It already happened. Were you supposed to beg Jimin to stay with you? How could you live with yourself, fully knowing you’re the second choice? How could you continue to love him truly if his wandering eyes never glance your way?

Jimin’s mistreatment towards you almost feels like a joke. Everyone had warned him not to fuck up. Everyone warned you to keep your guard up. It was just the nature of him and the fate for you. Now, here is your best friend in the entire world; incredibly angry for you. He barged into your apartment to be some sort of damage control.

The thing is; no part of you wants to admit how bad it really burns inside. You struggle to swallow your pride. But it is hard. It’s so fucking hard when you feel pathetic and useless. There’s no way you’d want to mix desperate in there.

It was your pride that stopped you from calling Yoongi. He was right and it was too embarrassing to cry over someone he had told you not to give the time of day. On the contrary, you still believe Jimin was a good boyfriend—a great one even! However, he had a life and impulsive decisions that contradicted his promises to you. You didn’t expect commitment or an incredibly long relationship with him, but you did expect honesty..

And perhaps, honesty is what he gave when he dumped you.

“He’s fucking amazing. He’s Jimin. Nothing really brings him down even if it’s his own bullshit,” Yoongi pauses and wonders if he should stop here. Should say the next part? He’s afraid they could possibly change your feelings. Could it? If it does.. Would it be for the better or worse?

“He asked about you, though.” Yoongi pauses, almost instantly regretting to speak up about this. maybe he should brush it off and leave it be.. This was his chance to protect you in a way.. Then, your eyes light up. Your eyes always light up this way whenever you have feelings for someone. It’s an observation Yoongi took the time to note.

Putting his feelings aside, he dismisses his hesitation and fixates on your happiness.

He should tell you. He has to tell you.

“He asked about you.. First. That’s how I found out.. He told me.” Yoongi confesses.

Now he feels sick.

He feels like he’s giving you false hope and making Jimin look humane when he’s such a villain.

Fucking shit does Yoongi really want you to hate Jimin.

Even if it was for a split second, he wants you to take a moment and feel a fraction of the rage he feels towards Jimin. His frustration, anger, and resentment should be yours. Yet, you’re you. You aren’t the type to get angry and regretful. You love what comes along and wish for the best when it’s time to let go. Rarely do you fall apart and therefore rarely do you need Yoongi.

He hates that.

“Did you hit him?” you ask softly, trying your best to mask your concern. You wish for a no. You wish for an answer that won’t make you feel like you’d have to choose between the two. “... You shouldn’t hit your friends.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches.

“No,” he chuckles as you let out a relieved breath. “I didn’t hit him. Was about to… But I thought about it. Mid-swing, I realize you’d probably be madder at me than him.”

See, Yoongi has always been the nonchalant type. No one doubts how far his anger could drive him. Fortunately for everyone, he is a patient man. Nevertheless, his patience has a bad habit of fracturing whenever it comes to you. He always been protective of you. As for you; you expect better from him. You know he’s better than hateful actions.

“Jimin told me you said you wanted space… He thought you told me.. That’s why he brought it up. Then, when he realized I didn’t know—he went full defense mode.”

You sigh. “Keep me updated, yeah? Jimin is still a good guy. He is still your friend.”

“Not a very good one if he’s fucking my best friend over.” Yoongi snaps. “You need to stop letting yourself be treated so poorly.”

You laugh. “Noted.”

For a moment, you two are okay. For a moment, Yoongi isn’t pissed and you aren’t hurt. You sink into the cozy feeling and decide to carry the conversation into a different direction. “Anyways, how are you?”

“No,” Yoongi says sternly. “___, we’re not doing that. I’m here for you. You’ve been avoiding me. You’ve been cheated on and—“

“Yoongi, I know what happened to me. It’s clear that you do too. We’ve established it so you don’t need to repeat it,” you snap. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

He groans at you.

In response, you throw your hands in the air and roll your eyes at him. “See? this is why I didn’t call you. God, I knew you’d do this.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and almost laughs at you. “Do what? Worry about you? That’s kind of what a friend is for. This is called a friendship. Me communicating and trying to protect you—this is shit men do. Something Jimin—“

“Stop it. He did communicate. I just wasn’t his choice. End of story.”

“And that’s the dumbest bullshit he could ever pull. I mean, how could anyone not choose you?”

“To each their own.”

“Fuck that and fuck him,” Yoongi scoffs. “I choose you.”

Your eyes widen and so does his when he realizes the words that fell out of his mouth. What happens now? It’s such an odd thing to say, no? Yoongi has never said anything like this to you before. When you look at him, you see his gaze had softened and even if there was a slightly panicked look on his face… There was also an underlying sense of relief.

It’s as if he had confessed a secret.

You brush it off. Clearing your throat, you ask him; “A-are you done? Because I’m, uh, n-not in the mood for this. I don’t need you to—“

“To what? I didn’t come here to say ‘I told you so,’ ___. Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Then why are you here?” you huff, beginning to feel more and more defeated. “Just go, Yoongi. I want to be alone.”

“We can be alone together.”

It’s then when you look up at him, eyes watering and feelings on the edge of a cliff. You take a deep breath. Holy shit, you’re so tired of this. You stand up but he catches your hand and pulls your body into his embrace. Before you can protest, he holds you tighter.

“It’s me, ___. It’s us.” he comforts you. “Fall apart or go numb, whatever. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Unsure of what stirs in you—perhaps it’s the days worth of holding everything in—but tears begin to fall from your eyes. Your inhale is cut short and disrupted by a hitch and the ache in your chest. It takes over. It practically consumes you the moment you let it.

“I hate how you can j-just—how y-you can get me like this,” you cry, poking his chest passive-aggressively. Soon, your hands form a fist and you’re beginning to hit his chest as light cries escape your lips. As predicted, the louder you begin to break, the slower and lighter you hit him. When you come to a stop, he places his hands on top of yours. “I hate you,” you mumble.

He hushes you and holds you as you begin to tremble.

Yoongi moves the two of you into your bed. He wraps his arms around you as you cuddle up to him while you continue to cry. His sweet nothings calm your cries. He holds you tighter to calm you. His hands are placed patting the top of your head or rubbing your back. While he does all this, Yoongi wonders what it would be like to hold you in a totally opposite situation.

One where you’re happy and hung up on him. One where you don’t feel like shit and he’s just trying his best not to cross any lines.

After a while, you finally calm down. His arms and wrist felt a little numb, but it was worth it. He tucks his chin to take a peek at your state. Your eyes are puffy and your nose is a little red from the crying… But you look relieved. You look like you could rest tonight and if he’s not mistaken, you also look a little sleepy. The truth is; you just feel safe.

He does this so well. He holds you better than Jimin.

“I wanted to face it alone and deal with it.. Pretend like it didn’t matter and that I could handle it..” you say, eyes slowly fluttering closed. Your voice gets softer and sleepier. He hushes you, promising that you don’t need to explain yourself. “No, because… It’s like whatever I do.. I just feel so alone. I figured there was no point in calling you because honestly… I still feel empty with you here, Yoon. What do we do about that?”

He wishes he had an answer. Yoongi wishes he could find the perfect words for you and form some sort of metaphor that could change your perspective on everything. He should’ve majored in English Lit or something.

Although, he can’t say he’s not surprised or offended by how blunt you are. He knows you’re all about transparency. It’s probably why you’re still a little hung up on Jimin: he came clean. He had an honest conversation with you, which only complicated your feelings for him even more. Now, the issue wouldn’t just be on how you’d have to learn to unlove Jimin, rather it would have to do with your new perspective on honesty and trust.

Is honesty really worth it? Is it really that good? From the looks of it; maybe some things are better left in the dark.

Yoongi knows it’ll take time for you to adjust to the pain, but a big part of him wishes you could let him in more. After all, you can’t heal what you won’t touch, right?

So he lies there, wondering to himself when could he ever be enough for you. It confused him how you still felt alone when he was giving his all to be here with you. How much closer did he have to be to get to your heart?

Your face is buried into the crook of his neck. Your makeup was smudging over his shirt and his arms had already given out from holding you for so long still, he stays. He doesn’t dare move or feel the need to complain. This is what he gets—pieces of you that others leave behind.

No part of him gets it.

Yoongi will forever wonder why he’s the one who’s left to help you clean up when you could be with him and never need to feel like this. Don’t you know that you don’t need to be in a position of loving someone who gives you up like you’re a choice? Like you’re an option?

To Yoongi, there’s no choice when it comes to you.

That’s what he has learned from being friends with you all these years. The irony is that he'll spend hours unending trying to convince you that being a second choice isn't worth it.

Yet, that's what he is to you.

The worst part is that even if he had a choice, he’d still choose to be in love with you.

What do we do about that?

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lilprincegoo · 1 year

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Companion X by thatbangtanhoe

yoongi/hoseok

Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Fluff and Angst

6.2k words

rating: M

In the distance future, technology allows for an app that provides you with a robot to communicate with: a so-called 'companion'. Although initially skeptical, Yoongi is persuaded to give it a try. It's safe to say it all goes well until it doesn't.

#ship: sope #au: future #au: sci fi #au: ai #ai #pining #one sided #falling in love #yoongi-centric #yoongi ship #hoseok ship #ao3 #bts ficrec #bts fic rec

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forlix · 7 months

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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying?

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile.

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES. From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket.

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge.

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being.

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair.

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each.

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

2K notes · View notes

naids4luv · 4 months

Text

BALLING INTO LOVE : a haechan smau

synopsis : l/n y/n is known to get along with almost everyone on campus, lee haechan is known for his extrovertedness and his lack of personal space. what happens when these two well known students have a bit of an.. incident during their first encounter ?

pairing : lee donghyuck x fem!reader

featuring : 7dream, aespas ningning + giselle, sunghoon, chaewon and beomgyu

genre : mostly crack/humour, fluff, perhaps some angst, college au, one sided beef + one sided pining, soon to be mutual pining

extras : death jokes, swearing, haechan is a little unbearable towards reader, reader is lowkey stubborn, lmk if I need to add anything else, ignore how uncreative the photo is, feel free to give me advice or feedback!! also lmk if u wanna be apart of the tag list

playlist : just one day, bts - out of time, the weekend - love me back, fromis_9 - in my dreams, red velvet - best mistake, ariana grande - the weekend, sza - thirsty, aespa - pasilyo, sunkissed lola

status : ongoing, will update when i can/feel like it,, WONT BE POSTING CONSISTENTLY

started : 31/12/23

ended : ...

all parts under the cut😽

profiles : (1) + (2)

chp 0 : 127 opps

chp 1 : balled too hard

chp 2 : dont hmu... real ones know

chp 3 : h*****n’s friend

chp 4 : stay safe out there women🫶

chp 5 : I!!

chp 6 : i did it😁 (wc : 1629)

chp 7 : she is the drama

chp 8 : 😍😍😍

chp 9 : lowk think i’m wrong

chp 10 : ...

chp 11 : …

533 notes · View notes

btsfests · 2 months

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Daddy's Home Fest

There's no better time than when daddy is home.

DILF BTS is coming to a Tumblr near you Spring 2024!

♡ Title: Care For You

♡ Pairing: Alpha Gang Boss!Yoongi x Omega Maid!Seokjin

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: gang au, dead dove, parent au, a/b/o | angst, fluff, smut

♡ Summary: As the leader of the infamous Bangtan, Yoongi is untouchable and lives life as he pleases. He thinks he has it all until the tall and broad shoulder omegan maid, Kim Seokjin walks into his office and makes Yoongi second guess what he wants in life.

by @sweetestofchaos

♡ Title: Daddy, Daughter, and Dewey Decimals

♡ Pairing: Single Dad!Namjoon x (f)reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: Parent AU, Fluff, Smut, Mutual Pining

♡ Summary: I adored the daddy and daughter duo that came to visit me every week at the library. Sunhee was cute and vivacious and her dad was every single woman's dream. A simple request, one late night, and a slip of the tongue revealing it wasn't just one-sided attraction.

by @remedyx

♡ Title: Dirty Laundry

♡ Pairing: Seokjin x f. reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: Slice of life, established married couple, PWP

♡ Summary: When you come across your daughter and Seokjin having a princess-themed tea party, you can't help but fall in love with your husband a little more. It helps that you find him absolutely ravishing in the little pink dress he wears too.

by @sailoryooons

♡ Title: Love Blooms

♡ Pairing: Jin x Hoseok

♡ Rating: MA

♡ Genre: Divorced, single father AU | angst, fluff smut

♡ Summary: Summary: Divorced and lost, Jin grapples with self-discovery and single fatherhood. Then, sunshine arrives in the form of Hoseok, helping him explore his desires and build a found family. Their love faces challenges - ex-wife drama, societal disapproval - but together they prove love and acceptance can bloom even in unexpected gardens

by @downbad4yoongi

♡ Title: Lose You to Love Me

♡ Pairing: Yoongi x f! Reader

♡ Rating: 🔞

♡ Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

♡ Summary: Yoongi thought he had everything. The woman of his dreams whom he gave everything for. The sweetest Princess who became his whole world the minute she was born and a career he can say he's happy in but what happens when it all comes crumbling down when one small secret blows his marriage open?

by @jmvore

♡ Title: Off Limits

♡ Pairing: Female Reader x Seokjin

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: smut, porn with very little plot

♡ Summary: You are visiting your family over spring break and discover that the family you used to babysit for are separated. Does this mean Mister Kim is no longer off limits?

by @theharrowing

♡ Title: podcast

♡ Pairing: single father!Namjoon x f! reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: single father AU | fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

♡ Summary: You and Namjoon keep bumping into each other at multiple instances, as if destined to. In a world where past loves and current responsibilities intertwine, Namjoon navigates the complexities of single fatherhood, cherishing the moments with his daughter, Nari, while reflecting on lost love through his popular podcast, "A Loveless Lover." A chance encounter at a daycare center brings him face to face with you, sparking a connection rooted in compassion and shared moments of vulnerability. As their worlds collide, the possibility of new beginnings looms, challenging Namjoon and you to confront the past and consider the future with newfound hope.

by @hobipaint

♡ Title: sakura 🌸

♡ Pairing: king!yoongi x (f) reader

♡ Rating: 18+

♡ Genre: mature, fluff, angst, pining

♡ Summary: yoongi could never figure out how could a sakura tree bloom right on his son’s seventh birthday. logically, atleast, for his kingdom’s soil wasn't blessed enough for beautiful flora; however, when his inspection rounds reveal a trip totally unexpected, and in a crescendo of buried memories, his love for the tree gets as bright as the petals of the blossom.

by @liveyun

♡ Title: Shatter With Me

♡ Pairing: Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader

♡ Rating: MA 18+

♡ Genre: Best Friend's Husband, Surrogacy AU | heavy angst, smut, mild fluff

♡ Summary: Your best friend, Jiyoon, and her husband, Jungkook, have faced years of hardship trying to start a family. In a last-ditch effort to have their dream life, they seek solace in surrogacy. Wanting to see your best friend smile, you offer to become the bright beacon at the end of the tunnel, giving them what they have always wanted. But what happens when you begin to shine your light on their darkness? Things aren’t always as they seem—happiness can be a façade, shattering under the lightest pressure.

by @colormepurplex2

Daddy Jungkook came home April 24. Read here!

♡ Title: Since Day One

♡ Pairing: teacher!jimin x teacher! f. reader

♡ rating: 18+

♡ Genre: enemies to lovers, coworker au, single father au

♡ Summary: Being a Pre-K teacher is no easy feat, but Jimin is always up for the challenge. However, on his first day on the job, he makes an enemy in the parking lot before he even sets foot inside the building. Looks like this school year won’t be all sunshine and rainbows after all.

by @jjungkookislife

Daddy Jimin came home April 6. Read here!

♡ Title: baby fangs

♡ Pairing: Jimin x Jungkook

♡ Rating: Explicit/18+

♡ Genre: Urban fantasy, vampires, strangers to lovers, angst, smut

♡ Summary: As a human, Jungkook thought life was meaningless. It isn’t until he dies that he finds something worth living for: the family he never had.

by @gimmethatagustd

#bts fanfic #bts fic #namjoon fic #seokjin fic #hoseok fic #jimin fic #taehyung fic #jungkook fic #bts collab #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts fests #bts #daddys home fest #dilf bts

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aernx · 10 months

Text

𓂋˚˖ IT’S A WRAP ! ૪ ࣪˖ 이희승﹙🐋﹚

SYN𝟬PSiS ꊥꊥ wrapping is easy when it comes to dumplings. but when it comes to your feelings…not so much. after getting separated from your childhood nemesis, lee heeseung, you think your life will go smooth like butter (js like what BTS sang). but fate has other plans when he was forced to help around in your family’s dumpling restaurant.

or in which 𓍯 heeseung only realizes how strong your influence is in his life after your recent departure for an exchange student program in japan. now that you’re back, he can’t bring himself wanting to let you go.

PART 2/2 OF THE LOVE LASTING DREAM SERIES

PAiRiNG ˖͢ non idol! lee heeseung x non idol! fem reader

GENRE ⃕˖ childhood enemies to lvrs, smau w written parts, romance, crack, slice of life, hs au

⚠️ curse words, angst, denial!!!, constant pining lol

FEATURiNG ⃕˖ enhypen, txt, chaewon (lesserafim)

status. discontinued 𖡋 oneshot ver

╰╮25 / 06 / 23 — tba

TAGLiST ˖͢ open ! send ask or comment to be added in ><

꒰ 🧾 ꒱ ÆRiN’S NOTES ! this is all a work of fiction & none of it is real! this smau is only for fun or laughs ykyk. this is also a spin-off of my niki smau here! u don’t hav to read it but js know rikiyn will make some cameos! (the yn here n there is different ofc)🥛 means there will be written parts !

⌗ PR𝟬FiLES ◜ ONE ◞ ◜ TWO ◞ ◜ THREE ◞

ıllı SiDE A

𝟢𝟢1. i don’t miss her

𝟢𝟢2. one thread hug

𝟢𝟢3. dream on, lee 🥛

𝟢𝟢4. climbing expert

𝟢𝟢5. mama lee supremacy

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

MORE — TBA !! ( titles may change )

nets ! @enhanet @hyfenet

#ꜜ 🥟 ꒰ it’s a wrap ! ꒱#enhypen x reader #enhypen smau #heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #lee heesung x reader #enhypen #enhypen heeseung #enha x reader #enha smau #heeseung smau

644 notes · View notes

soraviie · 1 year

Text

you assume it's unrequited.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: largely angst, some fluff; reader has a crush but thinks that it's one-sided — it's not

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ read the continuation in "pining for you.txt"

━ leave behind a comment or I'll stab you with chopsticks

NAMJOON | The routine itself is quite simple. The rules to be observed are only five — it leaves enough leeway to mold oneself should problematic situations arise.

Rule no. 5: don't accept any gifts.

It's the fact of nature really — humans love gifts. Like corvids, people adored their shiny little trinkets and it is a well-known fact that giving someone something makes them feel special. Adored. But since you couldn't be either of those things, it helped to cut any straying thoughts right in the bud. Hence when he offers to get a cup of coffee from the aggravatingly chique brewery across the street you decline and make a quick stage left.

Which conveniently segways to rule no. 4.

Rule no. 4: no lingering around.

The job is thankful in that way — there's always something to do. Whenever you see his silhouette from the corner of the eye which is not exactly hard — he is big — you flee to safety. If he somehow manages to round the exact same hallway you're in and tosses a hand into the air in lieu of a greeting whilst handing out one of those unfairly charming, dimpled smiles, you follow the rule and as such return a simple nod of recognition, hastily heading the other way.

Should he enter the same room, you're quick to grab anything near and dig deep into a dark corner where inevitably you grow invisible. It's a big company — there's always spaces to hide and you're just another nobody.

Safe to say you never pass him messages or even go near his studio. That can be left to your colleagues who are far more enthusiastic about doing that sort of thing.

Rule no. 3: no conversations.

That is...easy. You think.

"Hi!"

You lifted your head from where your hands were trembling around the paper forms. You regarded him with a blank stare, surprised that not only he'd chosen to talk to you out of all the dozens of people buzzing around the room but also that he was gracious about your lack of friendly disposition.

"Hello," you rasped back, becoming acutely aware of the way everyone is staring.

"You must be new," he remarked, casually plopping down to, for some inexplicable reason, sit next to you, breathing a deep sigh of content. For a second his thigh grazed yours — you shirked away.

"S'pose."

There was a steady pause of silence in which you both just...were.

"You have to write-"

"I know what I have to do."

The finger that previously so helpfully was pointing out at the blank space in the registration form froze mid air. You darted your gaze far away from his unsure, inquisitive stare, tightening your grip around the thin and otherwise helpless paper.

"I'm sorry. What I mean is...I've worked here for three years now — it's just been remote. So I know what to do I'm just..." you laid a palm on your chest — where the bubble was. The bubble that makes it hard to breathe and pressed down on your ribs with such terrible strength your vision grew hazy.

"I think I'm having a panic attack."

Yeah, it was easy to not have a conversation with him afterwards. He must be just as embarrassed as you — what with catching you as you collapsed on the floor just seconds after the first greeting.

Rule no. 2: no touching.

For the most part it's easy to observe. You don't want to be in the same room with him, let alone touch him but sometimes he's just so friendly. If once upon a blue moon you have the misfortune of being stuck with him, you've taken note of how often he reaches to pat you on the back, attempts to carry your things, accidentally bumps into you on those short walks between one location to the next. However, by now you're a professional and you evade all of those damning times of contact with mannered ease.

It is only rule no. 1 that gives you trouble. It's difficult to not think about Kim Namjoon. Not only because his face is splattered across half the world's billboards but because it is Kim Namjoon and oftentimes after long hours of dutifully observing all the other rules, you lay vapidly on the bed and break the one that mattered the most. Too much you think about him and too much time is given to dreams that would never, ever come true.

"Hey, _____________."

You jolt at the sound of another's voice, especially since the room should be empty. As you uncrane your neck from the cramped position by the router on the floor, you find Kim Namjoon poking his somewhat unkempt head through the door. And Kim Namjoon finds himself standing yet again in front of you , breaking all the rules he put between him and the danger that is you. He has no viable reason for asking everyone your whereabouts and then coming here where he confirmed you'd be. There's no merit in him checking the status of HYBE's malfunctioning router but very selfishly he clings even to this most pathetic excuse — if only to take a glimpse at you.

"Hello," diplomatically, you bid back. "The uh...cable is broken."

As a means of an evidence that no one asked for, you wave the plastic around.

"I'll go ask Haejun. She has a shit-ton of spares.''

"We can—" but before he could even reach out to grab onto you, to make you linger around just a little bit longer for the sake of his horrid selfishness, the doors are already closing behind you.

"—go together..." Namjoon lets the sentence finish in the dissatisfied silence fallen over the room.

YOONGI | It should be societally acceptable for one, on occasion, to smash their fucking head against the fucking wall. Though you've turned away from him by now, in such as fast motion there's a definite possibility of your spinal disk rupturing, the disgusting act has been caught and observed. He's caught you looking. Leering. He must be repulsed. You put back the money you've been counting for the last five minutes and with a quiet mutter to a coworker excuse yourself to the back-alley.

"Ah, I don't want to be around that gangster," she cries pathetically, spotting the black haired man at the far end of the counter. Whiskey. Top shelf. A double. The first time you glimpsed him sipping 43% proof alcohol with the ease a child would a juice box, you cursed heavens above — men such as that inevitably acted vile afterwards. Cursing, being loud, groping — it'd just be more headache for you but he was surprisingly different. As if having been aware of the ill suspicion you've been harboring, once he was done, the man brought his glass back, bowed politely and quietly rasped a thank you about your hospitality.

To this day you had no idea whether it was meant genuinely or not.

"He's not a gangster," tiredly, you cut back. Even if he was, he was a polite one. "Just pour him his whiskey when he asks and that's it."

Her lips thin from the nerves as she examines him. His hair is longer now but in her eyes it probably doesn't soften the least bit of his features. In the end, she relents and her harpy like fingers let go of your elbow. Pouting, you rub the sore flesh but quickly leave. You think he's still looking at you, no doubt judging you for slobbering.

"What?" you mutter to yourself grumpily, climbing down the poor lit staircase that led to the reeking trash bins outside. "It's not a crime to have a crush on someone."

Ah, you're a pervert, you groan in your mind, kneeling down the wall. One of these days you'll have to scratch your manager's eyes out in order to get a chair.

You fish out the pack of cigarettes from the apron and in the singular beat between one second and the next, someone speaks right next to you:

"Care to share?"

You scream and almost fling yourself into the trash all while the black haired man looks down upon you.

The first drops of rain begin to fall down on your face and you squint on the automated instinct to protect your eyes.

In his hand he's got a cigarette of his own and you scramble to get the lighter working, cringing at the shooting ache as you press it against your rubbed off skin.

"Here," you outstretch the flame towards him. He hums appreciatively and leans down, briefly putting his much larger palms over yours to stabilize the fire. You hiss in pain.

"Sorry. My hands are rough, I know," he grouses and you shake your head mutely. Jesus fucking Christ on a bike. Even just standing next to him knocks the breath out of your lungs.

"No...it's not that. Your hands are nice," your face scrunches up. "I mean they're fine."

He regards you with a slightly lopsided smirk. You cough and take a drag out of the cigarette.

"These things are not good for health, you know," he shuffles a bit, shoes scuffing against the grey pavement below. They're really shiny and now that you could focus on anything besides his cruelly handsome face, you take in the fact the fact that he was actually wearing a suit. Curious.

"You're smoking as well," defensively, you spit back and sagely, he inclines his head.

"I'm trying to quit. Unsuccessfully. Clearly," he snorts to himself, lips widening into arid, mirthless grin. You think your guts just rearranged themselves. What's happening here, currently, was the smell of the trash leaking into the bins, the cool air blowing a trail of goosebumps up your arm. Your legs are aching, somewhere down your spine there is a yet unidentified pain and both of you smell like smoke and still you've never seen a man so beautiful, despite the grody settings.

"Why you're wearing a suit today?" just at the last second you manage to bite your tongue to not call him sir. For all intents and purposes he's still a costumer. Had your manager heard of you smoking by the trash with one of the most high-paying patrons, she'd drown you in the very bin juice but this doesn't feel...forced. He doesn't feel like a customer and you don't feel like just another person in customer service.

"Are you killing someone?" you tease further, testing the edges and luckily he responds in earnest — dropping his head back and howling a mute laughter into the night.

"No, nothing so dramatic," he chuckles. "I had a...corporate event. Of sorts."

"You don't look like an office drone," you drawl, for the first time actually taking him in. That is, without the leering. As a bartender, over a time a certain kind of knowledge builds. You've seen what the poor wear, what the middle class wears and what the rich wear, and this man was certainly well-off. His suit, though nothing extravagant, is well-fitted and the material is expensive. No one of that stature would ever fit inside a cubicle.

"That's cause I'm not. Say, you don't watch a lot of TV, do you?" even in the piss-poor lighting of the foul alleyway, his eyes glimmer with barely hidden amusement. It plays on the corners of his lips as though he was trying his hardest to not smile.

"No, I don't..." you frown. "Why?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I actually like it that way."

"Ah, shit," you drag the last smoke from the cigarette before throwing it away. "Sara always said you were into shady shit. Shame she was right."

"Sara...that's the little girl, right? One whose scared of me?"

"Mmm," you hum in agreement.

"That's good."

As your eyebrows knit together in confusion, he also puts out the cigarette with a side of yet another teasing smirk. By this point, you were growing accustomed to it. Seeing it, however, not be unfazed by it.

"I much more like you. Well," he claps his hands together, the sound falling a bit too loud in the otherwise quiet back alley. "I've got to get going. Will you be working tomorrow?"

"Uh...yeah," dumbly, you respond and the nameless man looks mighty pleased.

"Good. See ya."

He turns to walk away, leaving you alone and befuddled by the backdoor only to lean back as though he suddenly remembered something.

"These are bad for you," his hand snatches the pack of cigarettes shamelessly out of your grasp and only then he deems it fit to make an exit.

JIN | "Look, the love of your life is walking over!"

"Shut the fuck up."

It's 8:30 in the morning and the sun is already scorching. You've gotten off an eight hours flight and somehow you're still hangover. To be less verbose — you're not putting up with any bullshit. And your friend cooing in the ear the second they saw Seokjin climbing out is very much the situation you're far too grumpy to tolerate.

"I'm heading to the forest," you toss over your shoulder, making a hasty beeline to the other part of the shore where the dunes laid quiet and unperturbed. The second you're in their embrace, the tension leaves your body.

By now everyone and their mother knew of the gargantuan and utterly mortifying crush you had on Seokjin. To this day they continued to humor it in the same way they did when you were younger.

"Ahh, look, Jinnie, little ___________ has a crush on you! They even made a card!"

And because you were fourteen and it was a time of great hormones, and you'd still rather kill yourself than ever reveal to older Kim Seokjin outright that you liked him, to everyone's shock, Jin's in particular, you ate the paper card in front of him, growling in between the stiff, glittery bites that obviously you meant a different Seokjin. Seokjin who obviously went to your school even though no one could ever verify his presence.

It's been years and by now you're well out of middle-school but the pathetic squeezing of your heart whenever you saw him, whenever you found yourself in the center of his focus has not yielded. How many years will this continue to drag on? Will he need to be married for this to relent?! With kids?! Dead?!?

With a pitiful groan, you let your forehead hit the dry bark of the nearby tree.

"Ah, fuck."

"Always such a potty mouth."

Anyone else might have taken a glimpse at Jin and pronounced that there was some truth to children's stories where selfless, glamorous princes rode about. While Jin is decidedly not a horse (he could barely even walk as the sand proved to be quite an obstacle), he does look like a prince — carrying a blanket and a small, mysterious bag.

"You get so cold quickly," he half-heartedly scolds, tossing the blanket your way. "Why even come here?"

"You get cold as well," irately, you point out, tugging the fleece around your bare shoulders. Only then you did notice that you were actually freezing.

"I came prepared," carelessly, Jin replies, yanking from some invisible space yet another blanket. "I might be devastatingly handsome but I'm not a bimbo."

"Shame. I happen to like bimbos."

At this point you're just saying shit.

Jin blinks and then with the sincerity of a well-seasoned actor, regards you with a confused stare, face mere millimetres away from yours.

"What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?"

Nervously, your eyes flit all around his face as you inadvertently swallow from the abrupt proximity.

"I don't know," breathlessly, you answer. "What?"

"Sofishticated!"

Well, good news was that if he kept going like this, your pervading illness will be cured.

"Sofishticated! Get it, because it's like sophisticated..."

You leave him standing there, shouting across the dunes.

"Hey, Ji-Yeong told Cindy to tell Eun-Sook to tell Riri-"

Over the loud roar of the working stove, you attempt to clean your eyes free from the onion and give your friend a good yell.

"GET TO THE POINT!"

"JIN IS LOOKING FOR YOU! HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

And because you're a brave, self-sufficient person of 21st century you pretend not to hear and whenever you see a glimpse of shoulders too broad to be on anyone else but him, you run and hide.

You know exactly what he wants to talk about and thus you'd rather, much rather, with a smile on your face in fact, chew your fucking toe off. Because as stupid as you were now, you were infinitely more stupid last summer. The summer during which you got so plastered on tequila the night ended with you confusing very much real, warm-blooded sentient Jin for a cutout. A cutout which you clung onto like a mad person and proceeded to reveal that innermost layer of your heart and how much it was devoted to one very annoying millennial.

It took a lot of pasta and drinking to have the confidence to leave your home once the initial stage of wanting to rot into the sofa ebbed away. You weren't necessarily keen on repeating that week thus the running away. But you also think Jin has caught onto the games and is growing increasingly frustrated with them.

Jin wants to see you, Jin is asking for you, Jin is stopping by and so on and on and on. By now his name doesn't even sound like a word. Even so you keep the charades going, praying for the first time in your life that you could go back to work.

The time is a bit over one in the night. For the most part everyone is sleeping which leaves the back garden of the house you rented near the beach quiet and docile. From here you can hear the waves crashing and for now it's enough to create a piece of your paradise.

"Didn't I tell you that you get too cold easily?"

Cold shivers run up your spine and you quickly swallow, whipping around. The expression on Jin's face is less than impressed.

"Well, hence, I'll be going," you gift a fake smile but quickly stop when you hear what you've never ever heard before.

Jin being angry.

"Stay where you are."

He's not by any means shouting, not even raising his voice in the slightest but the tone leaves not a single space for discussion to take place.

"Sit down."

You do and sternly he watches you do so, eyebrows coming together to create a deep frown. You search for any sign of this being a prank or another one of his jokes but you don't find any. Just him standing and being fed up.

"Now, let us have that talk about last summer."

HOSEOK | It doesn't matter if both of you were adults. He was still your student and you were still his teacher. It didn't matter whether he insisted on you or not, you still should have said no and referred Hoseok back to Marina. She was a better English tutor anyhow even if he very much disagreed.

"Mr Jung, please understand, I am quitting. How can I continue to teach you if I'm not even a teacher?"

His knuckles were white around the edge of the table to which he clung to as you leisurely piled your things into boxes. These two years were good, just not good enough to stay.

"Marina is horrible," he complains, the sound falling a bit muffled through the mask but its quality of desperation is not reduced. "Please, you can't just leave! Not with all of the progress we've made!"

A bit of clunky choice of phrasing if you had to say because what progress did you make? Was it the progress of being indifferent, to growing shy around him, to dreaming about him in the middle of all the lonely nights only to then choke on all those fantasies? Because if it was that progress, it would do you some good to leave. Would do you both some good.

"_______________, please, make an exception?" he pleaded, eyes sparkling and you had felt your resolve breaking even then. "For me? Your favourite Hobi?"

With your walls falling apart, you hadn't even noticed how casually he'd referred to you.

"Stop bouncing your knee," Marina growls underneath the nose as she sips on the coffee. Her exam materials are displayed haphazardly on the table before her, littered with large crumbs of her banana and hazelnut croissant.

"I can't help it," you retort just as morose, nervously eyeing the clock pinned to the wall.

12:01 — he should be done by now.

"You're so in love with him," Marina rolled her eyes, striking a bold red line across one student's essay. 4/100. Rough.

"It's my job as a teacher to make sure he passes his tests," you brittle venomously. "If I don't-"

Before you could so much as finish your sentence, a pair of judgmental eyes sit transfixed upon your face in a heated glare.

"You're not a teacher anymore. You quit and tutor him entirely unofficially," Marina interrupts curtly. "So the excuse of it being that is redundant if anything. Moreover, he's a whole ass grown man. He certainly doesn't need someone like you to fret over him."

Just then your phone dings with an unread message causing both of your eyes to fall on top of it.

"Your prince Charming is calling," she states coldly. "Go ahead and pick up."

You don't think you'll ever hang out with Marina after this.

Hoseok 💗 sent you a message.

The heart he'd added himself, chiding you one night for assigning such a cold contact info.

Hoseok 💗: I PASSED! I KNOW IT! I'VE NEVER FELT SO CONFIDENT! 😻💓〇(＞∀＜)〇

me: I told you you could do it and you didn't believe in yourself ( ￣＾￣)

Hoseok 💗: hahaha yes o great teacher you've always been so supportive! thank you! ( ♥‿♥)

Then after a moment comes the last message.

Hoseok 💗: thank you, __________________.

As your phone grows dark, you see your own reflection — the giddy smile, the lovesick eyes. The pathetic, eager nature that is you around Hoseok. For a second you let yourself be and let your hand press the phone to your chest as if the meaningless emojis and hearts actually signified anything other than the cursory respect he had for you as his tutor. Then you gather yourself.

If Hoseok will pass his test, he'll be technically viewed as fluent and as such you will be of no use anymore.

You wipe the grin of your face, slip the phone in your pocket and walk back home, pretending that none of this is hurting you.

JIMIN | "Stay still," you scold him, immediately receiving a pout in return.

"I am staying still!" he whines.

Though you roll your eyes, you don't argue anymore and continue to measure his neck. If he wanted to layer his necklaces, you'll have no choice but to measure every chain's length to its absolute nanometer. If they overlayed too much it'd just be a mess and Jimin deserved nothing but the best.

"Now, remember, this is the bag for my jewelry," you remind him sternly, waving the grey pouch just before escorting him to the door. The night is deep. Ever since you wound up having Park Jimin as a regular client your sleep schedule has been wrecked. Thinking about the wording, you cringe, cutting a finger against one of the waywardly left awls on the table. Had your old teacher saw the mess on your workstation, the old crow would probably smack you across the face.

Hissing at the sharp prick, you cradled the hand with a juicy curse on the tongue. Jimin, who'd previously been seconds away from falling asleep (which has happened. Safe to say, having an idol drooling on your couch was awkward, just not as awkward as the morning that followed), yanks his head towards you with laser like focus.

"Show me," he insists, expectantly holding out his palm so that it can join yours. You regard it with a passive stare before taking a step back.

"It's just a cut on a finger," you brush him off, coughing from the abruptly stifled atmosphere gripping your lived-in studio. Jimin appears to be quite displeased. One of the simultaneous advantages and disadvantages of being so close to your models for such an extended time was that by the end of it you knew all of their micro-expressions like the back of your hand. From the tightened way his jaw sat to the coldness in his gaze — he was angry. Jimin was a bit like an April day in that way — always surprising you. Was it good or bad, you did not quite know.

"Here, take this," you outstretched the pouch, sucking a bit on the pricked finger. His eyes seemed to linger there before he averts his gaze, taking the bag with his jewelry.

"You look beautiful in them."

Was it a low blow? Perhaps. But it felt somewhat uneasy, problematic even to let him leave your studio in a huff. With the oncoming release of his album he was already stretched taut. You were half surprised he hadn't yet hit a complete mental breakdown by now. Just following his schedule as a jeweller made your hairs grow grey. Still, as expected the compliment mellows the bout of his sudden attitude.

"Eyyy," he complains, tad cautiously. You weren't after all friends, however, the borders of the proper behaviour became blurred the second he showed up on your doorstep outside both of his company's knowledge or permission. As far as you understood it, he actually sponsored your work out of his own pocket. You could recall that night in fine detail — having a national treasure known as Park Jimin sipping a tea out of cracked cup and asking you to create pieces for him. How he'd came to know of you, he did not reveal and after a while you ceased asking.

"You always do this," he continues, rousing you out of deep though.

"Do what?" innocently, you blink up at him. "I've committed no wrongdoing."

"You always compliment me," he pouts, scuffing the sole of his slipper against the floor. They were in the shape of large fluffy cows. You'd offered him a change but since this pair was given to him on that first meeting, he insisted he'd grown fond of them.

"You know how much I like compliments..."

That you did. Once in a while you let them slip a bit too liberally which is something you'd sincerely need to work on. Having a crush on Park Jimin, unrequited one at that, would anyhow lead to nothing. It was simply futile.

"I can't ever stay mad at you."

"Sorry, for being too charming," you flip a strand of non-existent hair over your shoulder prompting a peel of loud, disbalanced laughter. "Now, this is the bag for my jewelry. Don't mix them up with the one you're supposed to wear for Tiffany which by the way..." you narrow your eyes at him. "Traitor."

Still laughing he pats down your head, eyes crinkling in that expression of pure happiness that you adored to see so much.

"Babyyyy, don't be mad. You're still my favourite one."

Had you not been so irrevocably and disgustingly fond of this man you would have kicked him for making your heart feel like this.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you groused, taking his hand away from your head. "Now go. Good night."

"Can't I crash here?" he pleads, shifting eagerly on the spot. "It's so late at night..."

"And whose fault is that?" you arch an eyebrow pushing at Jimin's back to get him out of your doorstep. "Rich man goes home and sleeps in his rich man bed."

Sensing an easy target in your words, Jimin gleans over his shoulder, his broad smirk proudly on display.

"Does rich man have to be alone?"

"Bye!"

You watched him secretly behind the broken, off white blinds of your kitchen window. The alleyways in this part of the town are narrow, only barely could Jimin's car make way. It's no surprise that no matter what time it is, it attracts the curious glances of your neighbours. The old man at unit 4b across the road was also looking in — the shitty blue tinted light of his crap ass apartment makes his silhouette glaringly apparent in the window. You scowl at him and for a good measure throw up a bird before accompanying Jimin with your eyes. Happily he gets into the car and drives back home where he'll be safe. Now you can rest easy. Somewhat.

"Good night, Jimin," you whisper into the darkness where the only other company you had was the ever-present droning of your old fridge.

TAEHYUNG | Leaning against your hand and watching him speak you think of everything and simultaneously of nothing at all. Though it was not a crime to fall in love with your friend, it very much felt that way sometimes. Times like these when you fantasized how would it feel to hold his hand or to hug him. Not that you didn't know how that felt like. If he could, Taehyung would crawl and make a home in your ribs but he didn't understand. He didn't understand the...spectrum of love you harboured for him. From where he looked onto it the hues were all blue whilst you were far too red.

Red, as you discovered, was not that good of a colour.

"________________? You're not even listening to me, are you?"

Blinking owlishly, you stirred in the seat. The screaming ache in your muscles offers proof to how long you'd been staring at him. Pathetic. You shift your eyes away from the mix of frustration and worry in the browns of his eyes and instead let it sit where's it safe — on the impersonal linoleum cover of the cheap dumpling bistro.

"I was listening," you mumble hazily. "You were...taking Yeontan...for a grooming session, no?"

He sighs.

"Actually I said Jungkook was bitching in my voice mails about having to get a haircut. Are they the same for you?"

You think about it.

"I plead the fifth?"

In spite of it only prompting a thoroughly sassy eye roll from the nominee of 2022 MAMA song of the year, he doesn't much complain, though stuffing his face full of noodles, he does ask. You would rather he didn't.

"What's wrong with you lately? You've been...spaced out."

To feign ease you don't dream of having, you snort.

"Look whose talking."

"Exactly," smartly, he agrees still chewing somewhat aggressively. "If I notice, you know it's bad."

Averting your gaze away once more, you shrug.

"It's nothing serious."

"You sure? 'Cause I was thinking maybe you felt...lonely?"

The so-thin-it's-almost-transparent menu in between your fingers freeze as your heart drops down into your stomach.

"What makes you say that?" lightly, presumably lightly, you wonder.

"Dunno," he shrugs, swallowing a bite so large you can see it travelling down his throat. How he had not yet choked was beyond any science. "It's just you've got no pets, no friends beside me and your place is always quiet so it's safe to say you're absolutely dry in the dating apartment."

Your lips purse in an expression of such pure, unfiltered annoyance that for once it doesn't go above his head. Awkwardly, he coughs, shrinking smaller underneath the gaze of your fury.

"Thank you Taehyung," dryly, you praise him. "That's just what I needed."

"Sorry."

Were you lonely? Probably. Who are you kidding? Naturally.

Exhaling into the black winter air, you watch as the miniature clouds colour white before melting into the night. Did you love Taehyung because you were simply...lonely? Could be. Over the years he was the only one who stayed by your side. Even when you did the most to make him leave, so you wouldn't taint him with your...broken-ness, all too obstinately he'd weathered the storms out. He'd not leave you, that was the end of it. Such he promised and such was the promise he kept, no matter what life or yourself threw at him.

As the gust of biting wind rips through the street, you pitifully tremble in its hold. Shit, why was it always so cold.

"Ah, fuck, my ass is going to freeze off," Taehyung curses, coming to stand beside you just outside of restaurant. He still has a soy sauce in the corner of his lip and without much thinking you wipe it off.

You're both grasping for words.

"My hand is cold," he suddenly complains, swinging on the back of his heels.

"Should have brought gloves then," you retort grumpily. "I certainly don't need you to spend all my hand creams. Again."

He pretends to not see the acussal in your glower.

"I have an idea. Friends help each other out, don't they?"

Suddenly, you find yourself not liking the happy turn of his cheek. That smile paired with that particular glint in his eye always meant trouble. And before you know it, his hand is clasped around yours, the heat of it shooting straight down your entire arm.

"There," happily he chirps, dragging your loudly protesting self down the street. "Now I'm warm and you're not lonely. I see this as an absolute win."

JUNGKOOK | Sure, it was hard to be rendered blind in the middle of a busy street as the sky was dumping down rain with terrible vengeance but you'd still wager a guess it felt better to run head first into a pole than seeing...him.

The light of the billboard pours brightly onto the dark, grey streets below whilst the faceless masses rush to their homes, you included. He stands there, being beautiful, being enticing like a whole dream and mocks you. You can't have him and that's fine but why should you also have the sour memory of his existence be rubbed into the wound.

Droplets of rain steadily fall upon your face though you don't even notice them. Not until you've had your fill of Jungkook.

You hope he's happy somewhere in Seoul.

Coming back home, you set the soaked bags of groceries onto the table, monotonously going through the motions of the day. Many, hell, everyone, would probably say that taking a leave from a high-paying job just to come back home and live an utterly boring life was not the way to go but would they also sympathize with growing depressed about the unrequited love you had for someone who was so far out of the reach, you'd officially have to graduate space flight program in order to ever reach the star that was Jungkook?

No, you don't think so.

Laundry, cooking, laundry, watching TV, laundry. It doesn't offer much reprieve from thoughts about Jeon Jungkook but at least you don't have to look at him and be pathetic. And sure you're miserable but at least somewhat of your dignity is preserved. Even if it's the tiniest, barely existent sliver a man has ever seen.

You don't regret never approaching him. He never went out of his way to say hi, he never so much as glimpsed in your general direction if you were loitering around the room. You remember how hard it was to breathe when the time came to adjust his mic on his chest and you also remember how he'd just sat there, disinterestedly scrolling through his phone. On those rare times you noticed him watching you, there was always a distant gleam in his gaze. He was probably just zoning out and you happened to be there. On those even rarer times that you helped him, he always appeared so unperturbed. He was polite but that was it. Just a polite thank you and long, stretching moments of quiet, that was the only real memory you had of him.

In the end, the whole thing was quite embarrassing and so despite it being abrupt, it felt right to hand in your resignation. He didn't need yet another sick fucker drooling over him....neither did you want to be that person. So why not quit. Why not?

By the time it's evening, you're beyond bored. No TV shows interest you, no movies catch your attention, the span of your focus is too short to read a book and you're too tired to go for a walk. Surely it wouldn't hurt...

When your old computer turns on, it makes itself known. Unlike the sleek, polished versions of HYBE, the surface is so hot it could boil an egg and the sound that comes out of this pre-historic artefact could easily pass off as a roar of a plane. It takes about half an hour for the email to load, so much so that when you come back with a cup of tea, the screen is still suspiciously unresponsive.

Seeing 99+ unanswered messages did not surprise you, what did surprise you was the pile of messages, unanimously sent from one address.

[email protected]

subject: please

The skin on your palms grow wet and you can hardly hear the rain splashing against the window with how hard your heart is beating. Shakily you press to open the email, hardly having the courage to read the words. You've no idea why the subject is named such a way but you're partially sure that somewhere along the way, he's going to call out your affection. How misplaced it is and how much he's disgusted by it. You'd understand if he did.

[email protected]

subject: please

Even if...even if the year we spent together meant nothing to you, that the kindness you extended towards me, that the help you sent my way unknowingly pulling me from a pit of unescapable darkness is nothing but an empty void no more deserving of your attention than the dirt on the side of the road, I beg of you to be gracious once more. Just write to me. Just one letter is all I ask for. No matter what you have to say, should it be something as little as one singular "bye", please, write to me. I'll keep you in my thoughts, forever most likely as you've made your home in them.

Sincerely,

Jeon Jungkook.

tagging: @rmstdio; @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @jminssiii;

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purpleyoonn · 1 year

Text

Secret Story of the Swan

one shot (a shorter one)

summary: You were staring into the stream, contemplating life when someone decided to take matters into their own hands.

genre: yandere, poly, mates au, bts au, hybrid au, mafia?au,

pairing: hybrid mafia bts x human reader

main masterlist // one shot masterlist

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You had spent mere minutes, hours even, trying to figure out how you had even managed to get into the position you were in.

It didn’t make sense.

One second you were dipping your toes into the water streaming down the bank, and the next you were pushed into the ground, lips nipping at your neck and tongue soothing the sting. You could hear thunder rolling in, the vibrations felt from within the ground as you laid against the underbrush.

“Jungkook! Did you find the –” Someone to the right ran up to you and the now-named man, his voice cutting off probably as soon as he caught sight of your…predicament. You couldn’t see anything past the riverbank to your left and the mane of fluffy, curly hair blocking the rest.

The man, Jungkook, kept licking at the part of your neck that connects to your shoulder, sometimes even dipping low enough to tongue at your collarbone. And for some reason, you didn’t mind, even relaxing into his touch. Like your body knew there was no danger present.

The large shirt you were wearing was now hanging off you shoulder, convenient enough for Jungkook but annoying for you as you could feel the twigs digging into the skin of your back. Your athletic shorts were clinging and digging into your thighs and butt as Jungkook pressed against you.

“Okay Jungkook, I think she’s been scented enough.” The same unseen man called out again, his voice much closer this time, probably only a few feet away as Jungkook mumbled something before slowly peeling himself off of you.

He didn’t leave your body entirely, his hands maneuvering you so you ended up in his lap, your legs hanging off his thighs so your feet were behind him, uncomfortably bent as your heels dug into the ground to give you some kind of grounding. His hands were splayed against your back, holding you to him and preventing you from leaving.

You were quiet as you turned your head to see the other man, the one who coaxed Jungkook off of you. He stood tall as he watched you, his eyes narrowing slightly before you noticed the slight uptick in his lip. Your attention went to his broad shoulders as he moved forward even more, now close enough where he could place his hand on Jungkook’s head, digging his fingers into the man’s hair.

A shudder ran through Jungkook’s body as Jin began to scratch at his ears, his leg wanting to shake from the pleasure alone. Jungkook and Jin had gone for a walk when Jungkook had caught the scent of another mate, the scent of soft lavender and crisp pine had called to him even from the other side of the small forest outside of Lake Cedar, the small town that became the nearest resting stop for visitors to the large mountain twenty-five miles ahead.

They lived at the base of the mountain, the two along with their pack had lived on the other side of the forest for years, not entirely good with human presence but accepting enough to help the random hiker every now and again.

You, however, were something different, something the swan hybrid couldn’t figure out. You scent smelt entirely too much of the forest, and your lack of material items meant you weren’t one of the normal hikers who ventured too far off the path.

Jin couldn’t help but watch as you tried to wipe Jungkook’s saliva off of your neck, the slightest bout of irritation moving up his spine. He would need to have you scented again, he thought. He couldn’t have you trying to leave without you smelling of nothing but his pack. Of him.

He was quick to put on a friendly face, smiling big as he crouched low to the ground, moving so he was face to face with you.

“I’m sorry ‘bout him. We couldn’t let a mate leave without meeting them first.” His words were vague enough to make you curious, but enough to create some rapport with you. He needed to build even the slightest amount of trust with you if he were to convince you to stay.

You had heard the word mate before, usually attributed to wolves who you know mate for life. Your brother had taught you enough to be wary of everything, including nice words coming from handsome men. Despite the less-than-ideal childhood you received, you couldn’t find anything within yourself that screamed ‘danger’ as you let Jungkook pick you up and begin to carry you.

Hybrids were not new to the world. They had existed almost as long as humans had, despite some people’s wishes to make you believe differently. Their animal like instincts and animalistic features separated them with a single glance. And despite growing up with them, going to school and having your best friend be a gazelle hybrid, there were some things that you as a human were not privy to know.

Mates were something to be held close to home. The only humans who knew of their existence were those who were mated to a hybrid. Jin knew this, as did the rest of his pack, and he had no problem telling you what was going on.

You were beginning to shake from the cold, the weather seemingly changing the second your small trio came upon the large cabin at the base of the mountain. You were in awe, your mouth open as your eyes scanned the property.

“You know, I should really be getting back home. I was only supposed to be on a quick jog.” You spoke up, getting a rumble from Jungkook, his mouth moving back to your shoulder and giving your skin a nip as he held you tighter. You narrowed your eyes at his actions, the shock wearing off as you tried to get out of the hybrid’s arms.

He wouldn’t relent as he carried you inside the large building, his hand staying on your waist despite your attempts to remove his arm, only receiving small growls in response.

“Please, why don’t you sit down? Is there anything we can get you? Water or a snack perhaps?” Jin spoke so sweetly, like his tongue was laced with crack as he floundered forward, gesturing to the large sofa that sat to your left. You couldn’t help but to just nod your head, moving to sit on the edge of the couch cushion.

You watched Jungkook leave the room, moving somewhere beyond your sight but you could still hear his footsteps. You looked back to Jin, his smile saccharine as he kept his eyes on you.

He resembled princes of the past as he sat in the table on front of you, legs poise and back straight.

You wanted to decline every offer he threw your way, despite the comfortability you felt in his presence. Your mind was telling you to leave, eyes seeing red flag after red flag, horror movie-esque, but your body was relaxing into the cushions.

You could see his lips moving, the small smile to his lips as he spoke, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than how your body reacted to his presence. You couldn’t do anything about the calm feeling you felt, despite the horror moving throughout your brain. You couldn’t help but feel he was doing something unseen to you.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, a little concern lacing your own words as your body moved against you. He just quirked his eyebrow, a small uptick to his lip as he leaned forward.

“What are you talking about? I was just asking you whether you liked the couch? You seem to be relaxing into it?” If eyes were the window to the soul, you knew you were looking into the soul of something inhumane. You couldn’t explain it, but the unwavering glances and the inept smile had you wanting to pull back.

“Jin? What is that delicious smell—Oh, hello there.” You turned your head to see a man with a long, black tail coming around the corner, eyes locked on you as you sat further back into the cushion. Another hybrid. You wondered if this was a pack den you had just unknowingly been led to.

The panther had long-ish black hair, curly at the tips and fluffy in its entirety. You could just barely make out the black ears at the top of his head. He was lean and quiet on his feet, moving to sit right next to you.

“Yoongi, this is our dearest mate. Jungkook smelt her out as we were on our walk.” The look in Jin’s eyes as he talked to the new man had you second guessing his words. You knew when someone was lying, plain as day. You dealt with it every single day and you could tell just by the way he spoke; this man was up to no good.

“I see. Well, welcome home. The others are in the nest but should be out soon once they smell the sweet lavender.” Others? You had decided you had enough, not playing along anymore with their seemingly innocent act. You knew something was going on and you wanted to leave before you were stuck.

“I really do need to get—” You gasped out as you had fallen back onto the couch, your legs giving out from under you. You looked up again only for Jin to be standing in front of you, his hands on his hips as he coos.

It seemed his plan was working, so far.

They had known about you for weeks, had smelt your lavender and pine while out scoping the market. Namjoon had to hold Jimin and Jungkook back from jumping you then and there. You were human and this would take a little while for you to understand, no matter your own knowledge about hybrids.

However, Jin’s pack was different. Each of them had their own little…gift. Jin was the mastermind… who would ever think a graceful swan could cause such a ruckus? Jungkook was the brawn, getting them out of sticky situations and taking out “difficulties” whenever they saw fit. Yoongi was quiet on his feet, good for observing and bringing back information.

The others were not needed for this specific plan, given the sensitivity of this mission.

Jin’s own pheromones were enhanced to create body relaxing pheromones, and depending on the person, could cause full paralysis or simple weakness. He could change it at will which is why you went from being relaxed to paralyzed in seconds. He could see the fear in your eyes. Could see the cogs in your brain working overtime.

He knew you were observant, but he was surprised you were catching onto everything so quickly. You would be perfect in the business once they had you trained. Maybe Jimin would be the one to train you, he thought.

“Oh baby, don’t be scared. We will take care of you.” His pushed his calming pheromones out, the normal mate ones, as he moved forward to lift you in his arms. He could feel his wings scratching at his shirt, wanting to break free and wrap around you, keeping you hidden from the world.

You had tears in your eyes as you were lifted into Jin’s arms. You wanted to scream, demand for them to let you go, but you couldn’t walk and you felt yourself relaxing into his touch once again. You felt like you did when Jungkook had brought you to the ground. Like nothing was wrong.

“Oh baby,” Yoongi moved as well, kissing Jin sweetly on the lips before moving to place one on yours, his lips soft as they moved against yours, his hand cupping your cheek to turn your head to face him. “Maybe we should bring her to the nest, I think she could use some cuddling.”

Yeah, you thought. That sounded like a good idea. Cuddles were always nice. You didn’t even wonder why they were bringing you into their nest, something no one outside for a pack was to ever see, nor did you question it.

They did say you were their mate, you thought, so it would make sense as to why they would bring you to their nest. You hoped it was comfy, with lots of soft blankets.

You blinked away a tear, confused on why you were crying in the first place. You could feel something in your mind trying to push its way to the front, but another breath in through your nose and it was gone.

“Do you wanna go to the nest, darling? Our other mates are in there. I’m sure they would love to give you some cuddles while Yoongi and I talk, hhmm?” Jin asked, knowing you were already under. He smiled bright at the small nod you gave him, a loopy smile on your lips as you move your head to nuzzle against his chest.

You opened your eyes next when you felt yourself being placed onto a soft cloud. Murmurs and whispers heard but ignored as you turned on your side to cuddle into the warmth on your right.

There were four people in this large bed, covered in blankets and pillows. No clothing was in sight and you briefly wondered why before the thought left your head. You felt safe and you felt happy. That was all that mattered.

“Alrighty, now I want you to help make our baby mate nice and warm. She was feeling a little cold earlier.” Jin spoke to his mates, seeing each one nod as they were already moving your way. His sharp tone was giving the real message: “keep her in the nest.”

Jimin was the first to reach you, his lips already on yours. His kiss was soft and slow, trying to elicit response. He had been waiting for weeks to be able to have you in his arms. He knew his hyungs would bring you to him, that he had to be patient.

However, patience was not his strong suit.

He tugged you underneath him, hiding your clothed body with his own, bare skin brushing against cotton as he pressed himself against you. He held you to him, moving his cheek and chin along your neck and shoulders, scenting you.

They all agreed to wait a little bit before mating you, so this was the most he was allowed to let his instincts run. He felt your arms slowly move up to his neck, curling around so you were holding onto him.

“You like when we scent you, baby?” The man’s tone was sweet but held a teasing lilt as he pulled away a little. You whined at the distance, bringing him back down to you.

“I think she does, Jiminie.” You felt the bed move and warmth now enveloping you from all sides. “Don’t you, baby girl.” You can feel yourself nod, your vision was hazy at best and your body felt like it wasn’t yours. You felt that you didn’t have any control of your actions, but decided your body obviously knew what was best right now.

“Joonie, I think Jin might have pushed too much. She is so out of it right now.”

“It’s okay Taehyung. Jin already said that she was fighting it. She kept wanting to leave.” Namjoon had heard the small struggle you were having, wanting nothing more than to run to you and help calm you down, but he knew the plan. They were to wait in the nest, scent the blankets, and wait for Jin to bring you in.

They all knew how the outside world could be, the seven of them victims in more ways than one. They wanted nothing more than to keep you safe, and the humans you resided with were not that. Plus, who would know you better than your own mates?

You must have felt the same, in Namjoon’s mind, your eyes closed and your breathing soft and slow. You had fallen asleep under Jimin’s scenting, making the python hybrid extremely happy.

They knew you would be aware in the morning, once Jin’s pheromones wore off, but they would deal with that then. For now, they were content to scent you and hold you in their arms, in the safety of their nest.

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mononijikayu · 1 month

Text

only fools — fushiguro toji

In that fleeting moment of intimacy, time seemed to stand still, the world around you fading into insignificance as you lost yourself in the warmth of each other's embrace. It was a kiss filled with promise, a silent vow of love and devotion that echoed in the depths of your souls. Over and over again, you smiled against his lips and he smiled back. It was contentment, it was everything.

GENRE: Pre-Hidden Inventory Arc, 1990s - 2000s;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Friendship, Romance, Star-Crossed Lovers, Emotional Hurt, Mentions of Character Death, Mention of Grief, Mention of Mourning, Mention of Alcholism, Mention of Death, Depiction of Physical Touch, , Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

kayu's playlist, side 400;

listen: only fools (cover) by bts rm and jungkook

note: this one has a bit of connection to us and them, as my ocs were heavily featured in this!!! i went back and forth with how to write this. but this is what i came out with. its lent and the holy time for many christians and muslims, so i thought writing about something this long. i wanted to cut it even more but well, i thought whatever i wrote is more genuine. if i cut it, i feel like it would lose the genuinity. so here it is!!! enjoy it, i hope you have a good holiday, i hope you all rest up and hydrate!!! i love you all!!! <3

YOU WERE BOTH SO YOUNG WHEN ZENIN TOJI MET FIRST MET YOU. In the expansive grounds surrounding the Zenin manor, amidst the towering trees that seemed to stretch towards the heavens, your presence stood out like a delicate bloom in a field of thorns. Zenin Toji couldn't help but notice you, a small figure nestled among the dense foliage, almost like a forgotten relic of a bygone era. You were like the little geisha dolls Genmei carries around with her, long black hair falling over your knees, dressed prim and proper like a proud and noble lady. Toji was used to seeing girls like you around Zenin manor. But rarely did he ever see one in such a state like you.

If uncle Naobito’s wife saw you, she would have smacked your head up and down. But she was not and Toji was never going to tell. Not that he needed to. You were no Zenin. You were someone else. It was intriguing to watch you, how tightly you rested your head against the bark of the tree. How deeply your kimono is tightly pressed against your body. You were cocooned in your own touch, as though protecting yourself from the world beyond. Despite the grandeur that existed about your presence, you appeared diminutive and unassuming, as if time itself had overlooked your presence.

Your posture, huddled against the chill of the earth, spoke volumes of your resilience and quiet strength. Even as your elegant sleeves trailed along the ground, gathering flecks of dirt and grime, you seemed unconcerned with the state of your attire, your focus directed inward rather than on superficial appearances. It was a stark contrast to the lavish gatherings and opulent displays that often characterized life within the Zenin estate. The last place for such a fine little noble lady should be this edge of the Zenin estate. Not even servants dwelled here.

Toji couldn't help but be drawn to you, the embodiment of serenity amidst the chaos of their world. As he approached, a sense of familiarity washed over him, as if he had stumbled upon a kindred spirit in the midst of the vast wilderness. This shared affinity forged a connection between them, bridging the gap between two souls seeking refuge from the pressures and expectations of their surroundings.

In the tranquility of that secluded spot, Toji couldn't help but sense a shared need for sanctuary, a desire to escape the relentless demands of their respective worlds. He understood, perhaps more than most, the weight of expectation and duty that rested upon your shoulders. It was a burden he bore himself, one that had been ingrained in him since they had concluded that he was useless to them. Despite being the son of the previous clan head, Toji was relegated to be as lowly as servants. The name Zenin did not mean anything, if he didn’t have powers. The good will of others was what let him remain untouched. Well, untouched enough not to be beaten.

Toji's mind drifted to his cousin Naoki, a constant presence in his life and a rare source of solace amidst the turmoil of their upbringing. Naoki had always been there for him, offering companionship and camaraderie when the weight of their responsibilities threatened to crush them both.If anything, cousin Naoki was the only one that ever truly felt genuine to him in this house. Together, they sought refuge in the simple pleasures of childhood, finding respite from the rigid expectations of their noble lineage. As he had gotten older, he was more a brother to him than Jinichi ever was. Toji supposes he likes it that way. He felt a little bummed out that he was forced to meddle about with those high rise pricks from the other clans. But that’s his duty, as uncle Naobito’s eldest son, after all.

As he observed you from his vantage point, towering over you with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, The young Zenin man couldn't help but wonder about the young beauty before him. He wonders about what’s there behind the serene facade of your silk fabrics. He had many questions for you. How had you stumbled upon this hidden sanctuary? What trials and tribulations had led you to seek solace among the trees of the Zenin estate? Most of all, where were your shoes?

Yet, despite his curiosity, Toji remained silent, content to observe you from afar, his gaze silent. As though he was trying to figure out the puzzle in his head before he even dared approach you. He had to be careful. None would perhaps mind if it was another Zenin he was meddling with. But it’s quite obvious that you were not Zenin. You were in fact another clan child. And if he doesn't thread carefully, then the clans may end up with animosity. He did not want any trouble, that was pointless. And even then, that would be another headache for Naoki. He couldn’t give more trouble to solve. In that moment, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft whispers of the wind, you were a mystery waiting to be unraveled, a puzzle whose pieces he yearned to uncover.

The three big clans always came together in these little clique circles, echoed in the small bubble that existed between each and everyone of them. In truth, no one wanted to be here. None of the big three ever liked each other. Yet it was more pretense than anything else. Whoever plays the best, becomes the face of their world. No one has ever liked the bullshit of it all. Not his cousin Naoki, not his daughter, not even Toji himself wanted to be here. And so he escapes as often as he can. He goes to the farthest echoes of the manor, on this tree and lays here, wallowing in the world he builds underneath the shades of the tree.

Seeking solace from the stifling atmosphere, Toji made his escape, slipping away from the confines of the courtyard into the relative sanctuary of the surrounding trees. It was there that he encountered you, the sight of your expensive attire contrasting sharply with the disheveled state of your posture. Your kimono, adorned with the finest silks and threads, hung loosely on your frame, creased and crumpled from your slouched position against the massive tree trunks.

Toji couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance at the sight. What a waste, he thought, observing the careless disregard with which you treated such exquisite garments. With a resigned sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest, knowing that he couldn't ignore your presence any longer. As much as he longed to bask in the warmth of the sun and enjoy his peaceful afternoon uninterrupted, he understood that he had to address the situation at hand.

As Toji prepared to address you, his words poised on the tip of his tongue, he was taken aback when you suddenly lifted your head, tears streaming down your face. The sight of your tear-streaked cheeks and brimming eyes hit him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily speechless. Your eyes, wide and doe-like, held a depth of grief that struck a chord within him, stirring a pang of empathy in his heart.

In that moment, all of Toji's intentions to reprimand you dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of compassion. He found himself unable to speak, his lips pursed as he took a hesitant step back, overwhelmed by the raw emotion emanating from you.

As you continued to cry, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at your display of vulnerability in front of a stranger, Zenin Toji felt a surge of discomfort mingled with empathy. He watched as you wiped your tears away with your silk sleeves, your sobs muffled against the fabric, your words lost amidst the tumult of emotions.

Toji's voice broke through the heavy silence, surprisingly gentle as he approached you cautiously. It shocked him too. Not even to little Genmei. So, he supposes he wasn’t accustomed to sounding so gentle, but maybe his body was being courteous for once. "Hey," he began, concern evident in his tone. "Are you alright?"

You sniffled, glancing up at him with tear-stained eyes, your expression a mixture of embarrassment and anguish. "I... I'm sorry," you managed to choke out between sobs, your voice trembling with emotion.

Toji's lips tightened in a line, his initial irritation melting away in the face of your distress. "No need to apologize," he reassured, his voice softening as he crouched down beside you. "I just didn’t expect to find anyone here, that's all. What's wrong? Did you get lost?”

You could only shake your head at him, unable to form coherent words as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you once more. That was not the answer Toji wanted or needed. It seemed like a lie that you did not get lost. But he doesn’t speak just yet. Letting you cry as you do.Pushing would just give him more of a headache. Instead, you buried your face in your hands, your shoulders trembling with the weight of your grief. Toji was at a loss. He’d never had anyone cry to him like this. Not even Genmei. She cries and then hits him profusely, like the little brat she was. He’d never had anyone be this emotional. Not even his mother was this emotional.

Toji hesitated for a moment before tentatively placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It's alright," he murmured, offering what little solace he could muster in the midst of your tears. He wasn’t accustomed to comforting anyone. If anything, what little he knew of it came from cousin Naoki. But Zenin Toji felt rather uncomfortable with this explosion of empathy. He wasn’t used to it at all.

He waited patiently, allowing you the space to compose yourself, the sounds of your quiet sobs filling the air around you. The wind blew against your pristine long hair, the edges dancing against its blow. After a moment, you lifted your tiny head, wiping away the last of your tears with a shaky breath. Toji couldn’t help but think it was a pity you were crying. You were really pretty. Not like some of his Zenin cousins. They’re rough, too rough and edged bluntly. Genmei was more like a Mikoto in her beauty, she did not count. You felt like a small beautiful flower, one that needed sheltering. You were out of place here.

"I'm sorry for intruding," you whispered, your voice still raw with emotion, lips trembling. “I’m sorry for causing your annoyance too.”

The raven-haired young man sighed, rubbing the back of his head. You’ve apologized enough for his liking. "It's alright. You're not intruding. If I were here in the Zenin manor too, I would weep tears too.”

You paused, uncertain whether to trust this stranger who stumbled upon your moment of vulnerability. It was wise to be cautious; after all, you knew nothing about this young man. He appeared rough around the edges, far from the picture of gentleness. Yet, despite his outward appearance, there was something in the calmness of his voice and the sincerity of his gaze that put you at ease. He seemed to understand, at least to some extent, the turmoil you were experiencing.

"What's wrong?" Toji's gentle voice pierced the heavy silence once more, his concern evident in his tone. "It's okay if you don't want to share everything."

Taking a deep breath, you mustered the courage to speak. "My mother... she hit me," you admitted, your voice trembling under the weight of your confession. Toji regarded you with newfound insight, recognizing the resemblance to Lord Kamo's brother. You must be Kaiko's cousin, the one often seen alongside Genmei. You were one of those Kamo girls he occasionally encountered.

"Just because I sat improperly at the table," you continued, your words laced with sadness and frustration. "She called me a stupid girl and said I'm not at all a proper lady."

The emerald-eyed man's expression darkened at your words, a mixture of sympathy and anger flashing in his eyes. It saddened him deeply to see someone belonging to a prestigious clan endure such treatment. He knew all too well the coldness and cruelty that could lurk within those esteemed families. Having lived through it himself, he harbored a profound hatred for the lack of warmth and empathy that often pervaded such environments.

And as he looked into your eyes, gleaming with bitterness and sadness, he sensed that you shared his disdain for the oppressive traditions of your lineage. You were all just pawns, little toys to the powerful. If the powerful were the oppressive gods, both of you, many of you, were just the mindless little monkeys that they could play around with. And he hated it. He hated it ever so much.

"It's not your fault," Toji asserted firmly, his voice carrying both reassurance and conviction. "You don't deserve to be treated like that. You're not a stupid girl. And you are a proper lady, no matter what anyone says."

You huffed in response, frustration evident in your tone. "You don’t even know me," you retorted.

Toji chuckled softly, his amusement tinged with a hint of bitterness. "No need to know you to recognize the truth. We're both nothing but pawns to our clans. I understand how you feel."

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flickering in your eyes. "You do?"

Toji nodded solemnly, his gaze distant as if lost in memories of his own struggles. "Yeah, I do," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "I've seen enough to know how it goes. The expectations, the pressures... It's suffocating."

As you looked at Toji, a wave of gratitude washed over you, accompanied by a newfound sense of respect for the young man kneeling beside you. Despite the initial wariness you felt towards him, his kindness and understanding had softened your heart. In a world where every interaction seemed transactional, where people often looked out only for themselves and their own interests, encountering someone like Toji was a rare and unexpected blessing.

His rough exterior belied a depth of character that took you by surprise. Beneath the stoic facade lay a compassionate soul, willing to lend a sympathetic ear and offer comfort without judgment. It was a revelation, a reminder that humanity still existed amidst the harsh realities of their world.

For the first time in a long while, you didn't feel quite so alone in your struggles. The simple act of sharing your burdens with Toji, of knowing that someone else understood your pain, lifted a weight off your shoulders. It was a fleeting moment of connection, but in that moment, it felt like you had found a kindred spirit, a companion in the darkness who offered a glimmer of light and hope.

"I'm sorry," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to burden you with my problems."

Toji shifted his sleeves to the side. "Don't worry about it," he said plainly. “It’s nothing.”

As you sniffled softly, a sense of vulnerability washed over you, prompting you to confess your earlier deception to Toji. The admission hung heavy in the air, accompanied by a blush of embarrassment that colored your cheeks.

Toji's response, a hearty laugh that echoed through the tranquil surroundings, caught you off guard. His laughter was infectious, and despite your initial indignation, you couldn't help but find yourself chuckling along with him. It was a moment of unexpected levity amidst the weight of your shared troubles, a brief respite from the seriousness of your conversation.

However, as your laughter subsided and you attempted to regain your composure, Toji's teasing remark caused your blush to deepen once more. His playful jab at your earlier statement about being a lady caught you off guard, and you shot him a playful yet reproachful glare.

"That's not funny," you protested, your tone laced with propriety’s indignation. "Laughing at a lady—"

“I thought you weren’t a lady.”

Toji's mischievous grin widened as he observed your playful indignation, finding amusement in your reaction. He recognized your beauty, undeniable even in the midst of your embarrassment, but there was something more to you that intrigued him. Unlike many of the beauties he had encountered within the prestigious clans, who often seemed devoid of personality or charm, you possessed a spark of vitality and spirit that set you apart.

In that moment, as you exchanged banter beneath the shade of the tree where you had first met, Zenin Toji couldn't help but feel a sense of appreciation for your authenticity. There was a depth to you that went beyond mere appearances, a complexity that intrigued him and drew him in. And as he teases you playfully, he finds himself enjoying the lively exchange. It’s more anyone of those clan ladies can offer him, he thinks.

“But I am a lady!” You insist on him, standing up to face him and stomping your feet. You looked so small to his bigger figure, you looked exactly like a doll. “You ought not to laugh!”

As Toji's laughter subsided, he met your indignant gaze with a calm yet playful demeanor, his emerald eyes sparkling with amusement. Despite your insistence on your ladylike status, he couldn't help but find your defiance endearing, a testament to your spirited nature.

"Toji," he corrected you gently, his tone soft but firm. You blinked in surprise, absorbing the simplicity of his request. "My name is Zenin Toji."

You paused, momentarily taken aback by the informality of his address. It was unusual for someone of his status to discard the formalities associated with his surname. Nevertheless, you nodded in acknowledgment, offering a shy introduction of your own as a member of the Kamo clan.

"N-nice to meet you, Lord Toji—" you began, only to be interrupted by his gentle interjection.

"Just Toji," he reiterated, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. His demeanor was relaxed, devoid of the pretentiousness often associated with those of noble lineage. "The Zenin part doesn't matter."

You felt a warmth spread through you at Toji's casual demeanor, a stark contrast to the rigid formality you were accustomed to within the confines of your own clan. His easy nonchalant nature had put you at ease, allowing you to shed some of the layers of formality that typically accompanied interactions with individuals of higher status. It didn’t feel stifling to stand beside him, to exist beside him like this. Zenin or Kamo, it didn’t matter.

"Alright, Toji," you replied with a shy smile, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue feeling strangely liberating. "It's nice to meet you too."

Toji nodded in response, a snicker appearing on his lips. “Nice to meet you too, little doll.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, its golden hues painting the world in a soft, ethereal light, you were drawn to the serene connection that had blossomed between you and Toji. It was a sanctuary amidst the chaos of your clans' expectations, a tranquil haven where the weight of tradition melted away.

Beneath the comforting shade of the ancient tree where your paths first crossed, you and Toji nurtured a bond that defied the confines of lineage. Here, amidst the whispers of nature, you found solace from the rigidity of societal norms, basking in the freedom to simply exist as yourselves.

You looked at him, as he watched the sun sleep.

For the first time in your life, you had a friend.

And so you smiled, finally ever so genuinely.

YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO SEE HIM AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. As time flowed onward, your excursions to the Zenin Manor alongside your cousin Kaiko grew more frequent, granting you ample chances to cross paths with Toji in his customary haven beneath the ancient trees. Though these visits were not formal arrangements, they became a welcomed routine, a quiet understanding between you and your cousin, Kaiko.

When you expressed your desire to reconnect with the friend you had made at the last clan gathering, she embraced the idea with enthusiasm. Without hesitation, she incorporated you into her entourage. None can stop her. There was no other heir to the Kamo. No son can rival her strength and so she was free to do as she wished. In that power, she grants you the freedom to pursue your own interests while she pursues her own amusements, often joining the Zenin heir's child in their playful antics. For that, you were delighted.

As time progressed, your interactions with Toji blossomed from mere pleasantries into meaningful exchanges. You often found him diligently serving the Zenin heir, Lord Naoki, as his trusted aide. Lord Naoki was a figure constantly in motion, overseeing every aspect of the manor's affairs. Once his duties in the field were fulfilled, he would immerse himself in the endless paperwork, particularly those tasks neglected by his father, Lord Naobito. Toji revealed to you that the elder Zenin had little interest in anything beyond his indulgences, leaving the responsibilities to accumulate unchecked until Lord Naoki intervened, assuming his father's duties and restoring order to the estate.

Before his current role, Toji had been relegated to menial tasks among the ranks of the servants, a position considered beneath his station as the son of a former clan leader. It was a stark reminder of the disdain harbored by Lord Naobito's cronies, who deemed Toji unworthy of the Zenin name due to his lack of cursed techniques. Despite his lineage, they saw him as a stain upon the clan's reputation, dubbing him a ‘useless monkey’ in their disparaging remarks. Meanwhile, Lord Naoki was absent from the Zenin manor, accompanying his wife on a journey to Hida to pay respects to her family's lineage.

Upon Lord Naoki's return, his fury knew no bounds. Toji recounted the scene with a mix of awe and trepidation, describing how his cousin's usually composed demeanor had been replaced by a seething rage unlike anything he had ever witnessed before. In a violent display of retribution, Lord Naoki exacted vengeance upon all those who had belittled Toji, leaving them bloodied and broken in his wake. He even dared to confront his own father, defying the authority of the patriarch in defense of his cousin.

Witnessing this ferocious loyalty, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude that Toji wasn't alone in his struggles. He had someone in his corner, just as you did with Kaiko. In a world where alliances were crucial and loneliness loomed like a specter, the bond you shared with Toji deepened as you both found solace in each other's company, united by the shared experience of feeling marginalized and underestimated by those around you.

As time passed, your visits to the Zenin Manor became more than just occasional encounters. They evolved into cherished moments of respite from the rigors of clan life, offering you an escape into a world of serene tranquility alongside Toji. The towering trees of the manor's grounds became your sanctuary, a haven where you could seek refuge from the chaos of your respective families.

In these quiet moments, you found solace in the gentle presence of Toji, his silent companionship offering a soothing balm to the wounds inflicted by the harsh realities of clan politics. Together, you would while away the hours beneath the shade of the familiar tree, lost in the pages of a book as you read aloud to him. Toji, reclined against the sturdy trunk, would listen intently, his emerald eyes tracing the dance of sunlight filtering through the leaves above.

For Toji, the spoken words held a melody that transcended mere literature. He was never that interested in literature. Not even when his cousin Naoki would insist on him reading the classics—that Toji admits without shame. Yet when he encouraged her to continue reading, he had that tender look in his eyes. Ones that she could never read. They were a symphony of solace for the soul. Words that weave a tapestry of comfort and understanding that enveloped him in a cocoon of peace, at least that's what you hope. He rarely spoke, content to let the beauty of the natural world and the soft cadence of your voice wash over him like a gentle tide.

In the tranquil embrace of Toji's company, you discovered a newfound appreciation for the beauty of silence. In contrast to the rigid expectations of the Kamo clan, where silence was enforced as a virtue and communication often felt stifled, the quiet moments shared with Toji felt liberating. There was no pressure to fill the air with meaningless chatter or conform to the expectations of societal norms. Instead, you found freedom in the gentle cadence of shared silence, where words were unnecessary and understanding transcended verbal communication.

With Toji by your side, the silence became a sanctuary—a space where you could simply be yourself without fear of judgment or scrutiny. It was a welcome reprieve from the cacophony of expectations that surrounded you in the world of the clans, offering a sense of peace and tranquility that was both rare and precious.

As you reveled in the simple pleasure of each other's company, you found solace in the serenity of the natural world around you. The rustle of leaves in the breeze, the gentle hum of insects, and the distant song of birds formed a symphony of tranquility that enveloped you both in its embrace. In those moments, the unspoken understanding that bound you together felt palpable, weaving a tapestry of connection that defied words.

Indeed, there was a time when silence unnerved you, when the enforced quietude of the Kamo clan felt suffocating. But with Toji, silence became not a source of fear, but rather a source of comfort and warmth. It was a silent language shared between kindred spirits, a language that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. And in the presence of Toji, perhaps there was never a need for words to describe the depth of your connection—it was simply understood, felt deeply in the quiet spaces between conversations.

In the quiet moments spent together beneath the sprawling branches of the ancient tree, you discovered subtle ways to bridge the gap between you and Toji. Whether it was through shared moments of silence or simple acts of kindness, you sought to connect with him on a deeper level.

One day, as you noticed the frayed edges and worn fabric of his shirts, a determination stirred within you to mend them. Toji initially protested, insisting there was no need for such fuss. But you persisted, your fingers deftly weaving delicate stitches to mend the fabric with care. Despite his reluctance, Toji eventually relented, allowing you to tend to his clothing with quiet determination.

As the days passed and your visits to the Zenin Manor became more frequent, you couldn't help but notice the state of Toji's shirts. The fabric was worn and frayed, with small tears marring the once pristine garments. Each time you saw him, your heart ached at the sight of his tattered clothing, a stark contrast to the polished appearance expected of those belonging to prestigious clans.

Unable to ignore it any longer, you approached Toji one afternoon as he sat beneath the familiar tree, his shirts displaying signs of wear and tear. "Toji," you began, your voice soft but determined. "Your shirts... they're torn. Let me mend them for you."

Toji glanced down at his shirts, his expression unreadable. "It's fine," he replied dismissively, waving a hand as if to brush off your concern. "I can manage."

But you refused to be deterred, your determination unwavering. "Please, Toji," you insisted, reaching out to gently touch the torn fabric. "Let me help. It's the least I can do."

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Toji finally relented, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and resignation. "If you insist," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew you would not budge on it. He’d rather take his losses—and his wins.

With a soft smile, you started to question him about all the things that were broken in each article of clothing he owned. You kept asking him one after the other. He was stingy for money, you didn’t ask why. But being a favorite of his cousin, he would have been handsomely paid. You wonder why he hoards old clothing and wears them consistently. But that didn’t matter. Perhaps those lessons with your nanny finally worked out for you.

For a while, the only sound that filled the air was the quiet rustle of leaves overhead and the soft hum of your needle weaving through the fabric. You both were sat by the tree again — the tree you had both become ever so fond for. It was a peaceful moment, one that allowed both of you to simply exist in each other's presence without the need for words. Having a day out was nice, with the weather being calm and the wind being cool. You had him carry all the things that needed repairing in a basket and marched on to your tree.

As you worked, you stole glances at Toji, studying the lines of his face and the way his brows furrowed in concentration. There was a vulnerability in his demeanor, a rare glimpse beneath the stoic facade he often presented to the world. You think he was intrigued, seeing someone do something for him, without any expectation nor without any exchange. But you think, a Zenin might think that. It was hard to find anyone with genuine intentions here.

Eventually, you finished mending the last of Toji's shirts, the fabric now restored to its former state. With a sense of satisfaction, you held up the garments for him to see, a small smile playing on your lips. You looked so proud, somehow as though this was your best achievement in life. There were stars practically beaming in your eyes.

"There," you said softly, a hint of pride in your voice. "All done."

Toji's gaze softened as he examined the repaired shirts, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly, his voice laced with genuine gratitude. "I appreciate it."

You nodded, a warmth spreading through your chest at his words. In that moment, beneath the canopy of leaves, you felt a connection deepen between you, bound not just by the threads of fabric you had sewn together, but by the silent understanding and companionship you shared. By the time you had finished this other shirt, you were due to return home with the rest of the Kamo retinue. You promised to come back and finish them as the days passed.

That you did. With a small smile, the days continued and you would not say a word. You would gather the necessary supplies and set to work at any new little article of cloth that needed mending. Toji would watch as your nimble fingers carefully stitched one of the torn fabric back together. He would tell you to be mindful not to hurt yourself, to be slow and think about your hands. Each reminder is softer than the next, mellower than before. You could not help but feel your cheeks warm at each reminder. He was such a huge man, one that frightened even those who looked down upon him. Yet he was so gentle, so wonderful.

As you worked, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you were able to offer Toji a small gesture of kindness in return for the quiet companionship he had provided you. You worked hard because you think he deserved to have someone care for him. You stole glances at Toji's stoic expression, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor as he watched you mend his shirts. Though he remained ever so silent, stoic as a statue, you sensed a silent appreciation in his gaze—a recognition of the care and effort you poured into each stitch.

When you presented him with the final fixings, Toji accepted them with a nod of gratitude each and every time, his expression softening ever so slightly. From that day forward, he wore the shirts you had mended with unwavering dedication, despite their outdated appearance or the judgmental gazes of others.

Toji understood the significance of your efforts, recognizing the depth of your kindness and devotion in each carefully stitched seam. And in his silent acceptance, you found a connection that transcended words—a silent understanding that bound you together in quiet companionship. And that perhaps is all that mattered to you.

In the tranquil embrace of the natural world, enveloped by the gentle symphony of rustling leaves and distant bird calls, you and Toji discovered a sanctuary away from the tumultuous demands of your respective clans. Beneath the canopy of green above, time seemed to stand still, allowing you to savor each precious moment spent in Toji's company.

With each passing day, your bond with Toji deepened, weaving together threads of understanding and mutual respect into the fabric of your relationship. In his presence, the burdens of duty and expectation that once weighed heavily upon your shoulders dissolved, leaving behind a sense of liberation and lightness.

Every shared glance, every soft smile exchanged between you carried with it a silent promise of companionship and support, a reminder that you were not alone in navigating the complexities of your world. You found solace in the simple joy of being together, of basking in the warmth of his presence and the quiet strength that emanated from him.

As you lay side by side beneath the verdant canopy, watching the shifting patterns of light dance across his features, you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment. With Toji by your side, the world felt like a place worth living in, filled with endless possibilities and untold adventures waiting to be discovered.

And as you gazed upon him, his eyes closed in serene contentment, you felt a swell of affection and admiration in your heart. In that fleeting moment, you knew that there was nowhere else you'd rather be than here, with Toji, sharing in the quiet splendor of nature's embrace.

The serene melody of birdsong filled the air, a symphony of nature's chorus that seemed to resonate deep within your soul. Nestled side by side beneath the expansive canopy of the ancient tree, you and Toji found yourselves enveloped in a tranquil oasis, far removed from the bustle and chaos of the world beyond.

The soft blades of grass beneath your backs provided a gentle cushion against the earth, inviting you to surrender to the soothing embrace of nature's embrace. Above, the vast expanse of the sky stretched out like an endless tapestry, its azure hues mingling with the ethereal wisps of cotton-white clouds that drifted lazily across the heavens.

In this idyllic sanctuary, time seemed to stand still, allowing you and Toji to bask in the timeless beauty of the natural world around you. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant murmur of a nearby stream, and the distant calls of unseen creatures all combined to create a sense of serenity that washed over you like a gentle tide.

As you lay together beneath the sprawling branches of the ancient tree, the worries and cares of the world melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and contentment. Here, amidst the harmonious symphony of nature, you found solace in each other's company, sharing in the quiet beauty of the world around you.

Lost in the tranquility of the moment, you turned to Toji, a curious glint in your eyes. "Toji, what's your dream?" you asked softly, breaking the peaceful silence that surrounded you.

Toji's brow furrowed slightly at your question, his gaze fixed on the expanse of sky above. "Why do you ask?" he inquired, his voice quiet but thoughtful.

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Just curious, I suppose," you replied. "Everyone has dreams, don't they?"

After a moment of contemplation, The green eyed young man turned his gaze back to you, his expression thoughtful. Slowly, he raised a hand to gesture towards the vast expanse above. As though he was trying to reach for the sky, for the birds that fly ever so freely above the wide blue deep.

"I suppose... I'd like to feel what freedom actually feels like," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. "To live, to breathe, to love without constraints."

With a gaze that conveyed both comprehension and compassion, you regarded Toji, sensing a kindred spirit in his yearning for freedom from the burdens of obligation and societal norms. It was a recognition born from your own experiences, from the weight of expectations placed upon you by your respective clans, and the longing to break free from those constraints.

In Toji's eyes, you saw the echo of your own desires, mirrored in the depths of his gaze. The shared understanding between you transcended mere words, an unspoken bond forged through the silent acknowledgment of each other's struggles and aspirations.

Together, you existed in a realm where the burdens of tradition and duty held no sway, where the pursuit of personal freedom and fulfillment took precedence over the demands of society. It was a sanctuary you had created together, a space where you could share your dreams and aspirations without fear of judgment or reproach.

"And what about you?" Toji asked, his gaze searching for yours. "What's your dream?"

A wide smile spread across your face as you met his gaze. "Funny you should ask," you replied, a playful twinkle in your eye. "Because I think we have the same dream."

Toji's lips quivered upwards in a rare display of warmth, a genuine smile gracing his features. "Is that so?" he remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You nodded, your smile widening. "Yes," you affirmed. "And I hope we can make it together."

A softness settled over the two of you, the weight of unspoken hopes and shared aspirations binding you together in silent understanding. "Me too," Toji murmured, his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the promise of freedom beckoned on the gentle breeze.

The way he looked at you, it burned you.

And as you smiled, you know he felt it too.

You wonder if it was safe to say those words.

‘Ah, is this what it is? Is this what love feels like?’

HE STILL THINKS ABOUT YOU OFTEN, MORE THAN HE’D LIKE. In the quiet solitude of his drunken reverie, Toji's mind often drifted back to the memories of you, like delicate petals carried on a gentle breeze. It wasn't just nostalgia that drew him back to those moments; it was the profound impact you had made on his life, an indelible mark etched upon his heart.

He remembered the way you would smile at him, your eyes alight with warmth and affection, as you made your way to that sacred tree—the tree that had become a symbol of your shared bond. In your presence, Toji felt a sense of peace and acceptance that he had never known before, a feeling that he longed to hold onto with every fiber of his being.

Your touch was like a balm to his wounded soul, soft and comforting, as though you could heal the scars of his past with just a simple caress. In your embrace, he found solace from the storms raging within him, a refuge from the harsh realities of the world outside.

And when your lips met his, it was as though time itself stood still, suspended in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. In those stolen moments of passion, Toji felt a connection so profound, so intense, that it transcended the boundaries of time and space.

But as the years slipped by, like grains of sand through an hourglass, Toji found himself haunted by the memories of what could have been, the dreams that had been shattered by the cruel hand of fate. He mourned the loss of the future he had envisioned with you, the life that had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

Yet even in his darkest moments, amid the haze of alcohol and regret, there remained a glimmer of hope—a hope that one day, he might find a way to reclaim the love that had been lost, to build a future with you that defied the constraints of time and circumstance.

And so, with each passing day, Toji carried the weight of his memories like a burden, a constant reminder of the love that had once burned brightly between you, and the promise of a future that still remained within reach, if only he dared to reach out and grasp it.

But despite his yearning for what once was, Toji found himself trapped in a cycle of self-destructive behavior, drowning his sorrows in alcohol and reckless pursuits. He sought solace in the fleeting distractions of the world, hoping to numb the pain that gnawed at his heart like a relentless beast.

Yet amidst the chaos of his existence, there remained a flicker of the man he once was—a man who had loved deeply and dreamed of a future filled with happiness and purpose. It was this spark of humanity that kept him tethered to the memories of you, reminding him of the love he had lost and the person he had once been.

In his darkest moments, when the weight of his regrets threatened to crush him, Toji would close his eyes and summon forth the image of your smile, the warmth of your touch, and the sound of your laughter echoing like a melody in his mind. It was these memories that kept him going, fueling his determination to someday find his way back to you, no matter the cost.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Toji's hope began to wane, replaced by a bitter resignation to the cruel twists of fate that had torn you apart. He cursed himself for his weakness, for his inability to protect you from the fate that had befallen you, and for the pain he knew you must be enduring without him by your side.

In the quiet depths of his thoughts, Fushiguro Toji often finds himself contemplating the bittersweet truth of your relationship. To him, you were like the sun—bright, radiant, and unattainable. And he? He was but a mere moon, destined to orbit around you, never truly belonging to your world. Yet, despite the inevitable distance that separated you, his love for you burns steadfastly, unwavering in its intensity.

When he made the decision to depart from the Zenin clan, he understood that it meant leaving behind any chance of ever crossing paths with you again. Still, the memory of you lingers like a haunting melody, weaving its way into the fabric of his existence. Though you may never belong to each other, he carries you in his heart, a cherished remnant of a love that was never meant to be.

Toji's heart shattered into a million pieces when he had to leave you behind. And now you were forced to be engaged to his brother. You cried for help, you did. That’s what everyone said. You called for him and asked someone to look for him. It was a betrayal of the highest order, one that threatened to tear apart everything he had ever hoped for. The thought of you being wed to his older brother, Jinichi, filled him with a rage unlike any he had ever known.

For years, he had harbored dreams of returning to the Zenin clan, of freeing you from the suffocating grasp of your lineage with Naoki's help. Naoki had the ear of all clans. He could make something happen. But now, those dreams lay shattered at his feet, crushed beneath the weight of cruel reality. The mere thought of you being subjected to a marriage of convenience, forced to spend your days with a man who could never appreciate the gentle soul that you were, filled Toji with an overwhelming sense of despair and helplessness.

Driven by a blind fury, he had once entertained thoughts of storming into the Zenin manor, of whisking you away from your fate by force if necessary. You were alone, there was nothing left for you in the Kamo clan. How long can your cousin protect you from what the clans expect of young women like you? He couldn’t take it. He wanted to leave. Storm back there. But Naoki, ever the voice of reason, had intervened, urging Toji to reconsider his reckless actions. He told him to wait, that he had a plan. That it will all work out.

And so he let himself wait and wait.

Drink after drink, to let his anxiety hurl.

Yet not everything does work out.

No matter how drunk he got at each round;

He would never end up finding you in this life.

Zenin Naoki found his younger cousin Toji in the dimly lit room, his figure slumped over the rough wooden table, an empty bottle of sake clutched tightly in his hand. He could see the anguish etched into Toji's features, the lines of pain and sorrow etched deep into his brow. He was too drunk, Naoki knew. But the moment he would speak those words, he knew that his cousin would be wholeheartedly sober. He didn’t have the heart to say it.

Naoki’s weary palms sharply echoed into fists. He takes the steps toward his little cousin. Naoki lets one fist unclench and open, grabbing an empty chair for himself and taking to sitting. His lips pursed as he moved closer towards his cousin’s bed. His eyes waver, as though giving away all that he was about to say.

"Toji," Naoki began cautiously, his voice soft but firm. "There's something you need to know."

Toji's bloodshot eyes lifted to meet Naoki's gaze, filled with a mixture of desperation and despair. "What is it?" he asked hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.

Naoki hesitated, knowing that his words would only add to Toji's suffering. "It's about her," he began, his voice heavy with regret. "Your Kamo flower."

Toji's grip on the bottle tightened, his knuckles turning white with the force of his emotions. "What about her?" he demanded, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Naoki took a deep breath, steeling himself for Toji's reaction. "She's... she's married," he confessed, his words hanging heavy in the air like a death knell.

The color drained from Toji's face, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief. "Married?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "To who? I thought the engagement would be broken—"

"To your brother, Jinichi," Naoki replied, his heart heavy with guilt. "It was rushed. Father wanted to strengthen the alliance between our clans. The Gojo clan….had gotten strong recently. As soon as I arrived, it was different. They bypassed me. The marriage already took place."

Toji's world shattered in an instant, the pain of betrayal and loss consuming him like a raging inferno. He felt as if the ground had been ripped out from beneath him, leaving him to plummet into an endless abyss of despair.

But deep down, Toji knew the truth of Naoki's words, and it tore him apart like nothing else ever could. He just couldn’t register how no one could let her free. How no one could help her. Genmei, her cousin Kaiko, his cousin Naoki. There were so many people there. How could none of them have been able to do anything? In that moment, he felt as if he had lost everything—the woman he loved, his dreams of a future together, and the very essence of his being.

"I don't believe you," Toji spat, his voice laced with venom. "She would never agree to such a thing. She loves me, she always has. She would never....."

"Not in her own will." Naoki agreed quietly, leaning back exhaustedly. "But now she has no choice. Once it is done, it is done."

As the reality of his situation sank in, Toji's mind began to unravel, consumed by a maelstrom of rage and despair. He cursed the gods for their cruelty, cursed himself for his weakness, and cursed the world for its injustice. And in that dark, lonely room, Toji wept for the love he had lost, for the dreams that lay shattered at his feet, and for the woman who had stolen his heart and left him to suffer in silence.

‘You can't risk your life like this. Please, Toji,’ Naoki had pleaded, his words echoing with a painful truth that Toji was unwilling to accept. When he cried, when he beat Naoki down, when Naoki didn’t fight back. All he could hear was those words over and over. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Little cousin, I am sorry."

In the end, he saw the wedding photos. That bastard Jinichi had sent them all clans, including the Mikoto — to announce the marriage far and wide. You were miserable beside his brother. Jinichi stood over you, as though he now owned you. As though you were his to tarnish, to harm, to brutalize. Toji’s blood boiled over and over. He screamed over and over. He threw beer bottles over and over. In the end, all Toji had left was his tears, swallowing his own grief over and over. He let himself drown his sorrows in a sea of alcohol and vice.

He couldn’t stop. The bitterness of his betrayal festered within him, consuming him from the inside out. But not at you. Never at you. At everything, at everyone. Toji was angry, for a long long time. All he could think about was how you suffered all these years. And how he could do nothing. He had absolutely nothing.

Each day was a struggle, each night haunted by visions of you suffering at the hands of a man who could never hope to understand the depths of your gentle spirit. Toji's anger burned like a raging inferno, fueled by the injustice of it all.

But deep down, beneath the layers of resentment and despair, there lingered a flicker of hope—a hope that one day, he might find a way to free you from the shackles of your unwanted marriage, to offer you the tenderness and love that you so rightfully deserved. Until then, he would carry the weight of his failure like a heavy burden, a constant reminder of the cruel twists of fate that had torn you apart.

“You know, I always wanted to have my own family.” You whisper to him out of the blue, the corner of your eyes looking at him. He looks at you with a curious gaze, a grin on his face.

“Oh? A big family?”

You shake your head. “No, I have enough siblings as it is. One, two at most.”

“Hm, a boy or a girl?”

You smiled at him tenderly, your hand brushing against the edges of his lower head, your fingertips meeting the dark raven hair over and over. “It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy.”

“Hm, but if you have to choose?”

“A girl would be nice as the eldest.” You tell him softly. “A warm elder sister to welcome her little sibling to the world would be most tender.”

Toji's gaze softened as he listened to your words, a faint smile gracing his lips at the notion of starting a family. "I want that too," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "A family of my own, someday."

Your heart swelled with warmth at his confession, knowing that you shared this cherished dream. "I've always dreamed of having a family," you confessed, your voice filled with quiet longing.

Curiosity sparkled in Toji's eyes as he turned to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwined with yours. "If you had a child, what would you name the girl, if you had her?" he asked softly.

Without hesitation, you smiled and replied, "Tsumiki." As you spoke, you traced the characters for each letter onto the palm of his hand, the strokes delicate and deliberate. "It means 'haven of beautiful chronicles'.”

Toji's eyes met yours, his expression reflecting a mix of awe and tenderness. "It's a beautiful name," he murmured, his thumb brushing over the characters etched into his skin. "For a beautiful future."

Toji's words stirred a tender warmth within you, melting your heart away to be his. His vulnerability echoed your own desires, creating a connection that transcended the boundaries of words. As he expressed his longing for a family, you couldn't help but feel a deep resonance within your heart, a shared dream that bound you together on purpose.

Toji's reaction was one of gentle reverence, his thumb brushing over the characters etched into his skin with a touch of awe. As you traced the characters onto his palm, you infused each stroke with the depth of your love and hope for the future.

In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own dreams, a shared vision of a future filled with love, warmth, and possibility. And as he spoke of the beauty of the name you had chosen, you felt a sense of gratitude wash over you, knowing that in each other's company, the seeds of a beautiful future had already been planted.

“I see the regular life everyone has, though.” Toji whispers to you as he moved closer to you, his arms on your waist. “I see swimming pools, living rooms. Those little airplanes, the toy ones.”

You giggle against him. “The little house on the hills? Just enough for us. Walls with children’s names, their height.”

Toji hummed at you, placing a small kiss upon your head. “Quiet nights with those ice and those booze, when its just.”

“Yeah,” You say to him, meeting his eyes. “I want that.”

“With me?”

You smiled widely, nodding. “Yes, with you.”

As the tender moment lingered, a soft breeze stirred the leaves above, casting dancing shadows over your intertwined figures. The air was charged with an electric anticipation, the warmth of Toji's presence enveloping you like a comforting embrace.

With a gentle lean, Toji closed the space between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken emotions. It was a moment of pure vulnerability and trust, a silent affirmation of the deep connection that had blossomed between you.

As he pressed his body against yours, you felt the weight of his presence grounding you in the present moment. His touch was both gentle and passionate, igniting a fire within you that burned with the intensity of shared desire and longing.

And as you surrendered to the sweetness of the moment, you knew that in Toji's arms, you had found your sanctuary, your haven of beautiful chronicles, where love knew no bounds and dreams were born anew with each tender caress.

In the end, these memories wilted little by little.

But he couldn’t let his brain forget who you were.

He never allowed himself to let your smile die out.

You were his drug, one that kept him moving forward.

A gun on his head, your smile on his mind, he pauses.

Tears poured over and over, like it was the first time again.

IT WAS ALL TOO EARLY FOR THIS. Fushiguro Toji, now a widower after losing his wife just a year ago, was caught off guard by the unexpected knock on his door. Opening it, he found Kamo Kaiko standing there in her sorcerer uniform, hand in hand with a little girl who appeared to be about three years old. The girl wasn't very tall, her brown hair tied in a ponytail, her eyes bright amber-brown. She had an innocence about her, like a little doe, yet there was a warmth in her gaze that seemed to suggest a familiarity beyond their meeting.

Despite his initial surprise, Toji couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort at the sight of the smiling girl. There was something about her demeanor that put him at ease, as though she already knew him, as though they shared some unspoken connection..

“It’s been a while, Toji.” Kamo Kaiko says to him, a wave of her hand and a charismatic smile. She hadn’t changed. He wonders if that smile of hers will ever be genuine.

“What are you doing here?” He says roughly, his body resting against the door frame. “Who knows you’re here?”

“No one.” She tells him, her eyes narrowing confidently at him. “You ought to believe me. I’m good at covering my tracks.”

Toji felt exasperated by her words, as much as this early morning has. He rubs his eyes. He opens the door wide. “Come in.”

“Thank you very much~” Kaiko says as she comes in, taking off her shoes. “Mimi, say the same thing!”

The young girl let out a sound, as though she had forgotten. The girl bows politely and smiles at Toji warmly. “Thank you for letting us in!”

“Come, Mimi! Here’s the tiny indoor shoes for you~”

“Thank you, Kaiko-san!”

Toji thinks he should have not opened the door.

Toji's apartment was in disarray, a tangible reflection of the turmoil that had engulfed his life since his wife's passing. Clutter littered the floor, and the air felt heavy with the weight of grief and solitude. However, Kaiko didn't utter a word of reproach or judgment. She knew all too well the challenges of single parenthood, having navigated them herself in the past.

The young girl, full of curiosity and innocence, caught sight of Toji's son nestled in his crib and couldn't contain her excitement. With wide eyes brimming with curiosity, she asked if she could see the baby. Kaiko's smile softened, and she nodded warmly, reminding the little girl to be gentle and careful with the fragile infant. Toji didn’t mind. It was better that someone was looking after Megumi, even for a little while. He’s absolutely exhausted.

As the children played, Kaiko and Toji settled down to talk, the weight of the conversation heavy in the air. Kaiko offered her condolences on his wife's passing, but Toji's impatience cut through the pleasantries like a sharp blade. "Cut to the chase," he demanded, his tone curt and brusque.

Kaiko's expression turned somber as she delivered the heartbreaking news. "I came to tell you... she's gone," she uttered softly, her voice laced with sorrow. "You lost her at childbirth."

Toji's face contorted with a sudden wave of anguish. His mouth went dry as he anticipated the words he dreaded to hear, yet yearned to know for certain. "Who?" he pressed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You know who," Kaiko replied gently, her gaze unwavering.

"I know," Toji acknowledged, his eyes trembling with emotion as he stared at Kaiko. Despite knowing the answer, he still needed her to say it aloud, as if hearing the confirmation would somehow make the pain more real.

Kaiko's lips tightened as she observed the man before her, grappling with his own torment. She knew that this news would shatter him, just as it had shattered her. With a heavy heart, she spoke your name, the weight of the words hanging in the air like a dense fog.

"It was... a bad situation," Kaiko continued, her voice laced with sorrow. "There were numerous stillbirths and miscarriages. This last one—"

"And none of you stopped him?" Toji's voice cracked with a mixture of anger, anguish, and disbelief. The news of Megumi's mother's death had devastated him, but the thought of you suffering and ultimately losing your life in such a tragic manner ignited a firestorm of emotions within him. His hands slammed down on the table with a force that reverberated throughout the apartment, his eyes narrowed with fury as he confronted Kaiko. "None of you had the courage to intervene? To protect her? You let her die. You let her die at the hands of that monster?"

As Toji's anguished cries filled the air, baby Megumi's response was almost immediate. His tiny wails rose in crescendo, mingling with his father's tumultuous emotions, creating a symphony of sorrow that seemed to echo off the walls of the apartment. Toji's heart clenched at the sound, each cry a painful reminder of the fragility of life and the weight of his loss.

But just as despair threatened to consume him, a figure emerged from the shadows, a ray of hope amidst the darkness. The young girl with doe-like eyes approached with a serene smile, her presence a comforting presence amidst the chaos. With delicate hands, she reached out for baby Megumi, enfolding him in her arms with a tender embrace that seemed to soothe his cries.

"It's okay," she whispered softly, her voice a gentle lullaby that seemed to resonate with the infant's distress. In her arms, Megumi found solace, his sobs gradually subsiding as he nestled against her, finding refuge in her comforting embrace.

Toji's tumultuous emotions seemed to subside, if only for a moment, as he witnessed the touching scene unfolding before him. The sight of the young girl cradling his son and humming a gentle melody cast a tranquil spell over the room, momentarily quelling the storm raging within him. He found himself entranced by her soothing presence, his troubled thoughts momentarily quieted by the tender moment.

As he watched the girl, a flicker of recognition sparked in Toji's eyes, a distant memory stirring within him like a long-forgotten dream. It was as if he could see glimpses of you in her, the way you used to comfort him with your gentle touch and calming voice. His hands trembled with emotion as he turned to face Kaiko, his heart heavy with the weight of grief and regret.

Kaiko met his gaze with a sorrowful expression, her eyes filled with remorse and longing. "I'm sorry, Toji," she murmured softly, her voice laced with emotion. "I couldn't save her from her fate. I couldn't save you from this pain."

Toji's heart tightened at Kaiko's words, the weight of her apology settling heavily upon him. Despite the sorrow in her voice, there was a hint of resolve, a determination to honor a promise made long ago. "But I wanted to keep a promise," she confessed, her gaze drifting towards the young girl who now cradled Megumi in her arms. "At least one more."

Toji's eyes followed Kaiko's gaze, settling on the girl whose presence seemed to bring a measure of solace to the room. A question lingered on his lips as he turned back to Kaiko, his voice barely a whisper. "What's her name?" he inquired softly, his heart heavy with a mixture of curiosity and longing.

A sad smile graced Kaiko's lips as she met Toji's gaze. "Her name is Tsumiki," she revealed gently, her voice tinged with emotion as she spoke the name that carried both sorrow and hope. “Just as she always wanted.”

Toji's heart ached with a mixture of sorrow and gratitude as he gazed at Tsumiki, his tears mingling with Kaiko's. The realization that Tsumiki was the living embodiment of his lost love washed over him like a tidal wave, leaving him feeling both overwhelmed and strangely comforted.

Kaiko's words pierced through the haze of his grief, her voice gentle but firm. "They don't know that she's alive, Tsumiki," she explained, her own tears betraying the depth of her sorrow. "Genmei arranged it all. They wouldn't look for her now."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, leaving Toji grappling with a torrent of emotions. "Why?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. "Why are you...?"

Kaiko met his gaze with unwavering resolve. "This is what my cousin would have wanted," she replied softly. "You were the only person that truly did love her. Tsumiki would be safer here. She would be loved and..."

Toji's voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on Tsumiki's innocent face as he wiped away his tears. "I didn't notice," he murmured, his words tinged with regret. "How much she looked like her mother."

"Spitting image of her," Kaiko agreed in a bittersweet tone, her gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and fondness.

Toji's fingertips grazed Tsumiki's silky hair, the soft strands a poignant reminder of the gentle touch he had once known. As he watched her tender care for his son, a bittersweet ache tugged at his heartstrings, stirring memories of you and the warmth you had always exuded.

In Tsumiki's innocent gestures, Toji glimpsed echoes of your compassionate spirit, a fleeting reflection of the love and kindness you had bestowed upon him. The sight filled him with a mixture of longing and gratitude, a silent tribute to the precious moments he had shared with you.

Struggling to articulate the depth of his emotions, Toji's voice quivered with unspoken sorrow as he whispered his thanks to Tsumiki. His words hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort her presence brought amidst the tumult of his grief.

As Tsumiki cradled his son with unwavering tenderness, Toji felt a flicker of hope stir within his heart. In her gentle embrace, he found solace and strength, a beacon of light illuminating the darkness of his sorrow and reminding him of the enduring power of love.

For the first time in a long time, he felt alive.

He felt alive having known that he has you.

You were always with him, you always loved him.

Years later, Gojo Satoru stood before him, watching.

He could only smile, feeling the chasing sunset.

Two fools would be together again, after all this time.

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kingofbodyrolls · 7 months

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BTS fic recs: September 2023

I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell, so minors dni.❗

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | 💜 (jjk)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | Dec (ksj)(kth) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, personal favorites = 💯.

Namjoon

⭐The Interpretation of Dreams 💯 by @ppersonna // knj x f.reader // phd mentor!namjoon, university!au // 🥵🥰

📝 He’s the man of your dreams, the an you’ve spent over 6 years pining over. and he’s also your Ph.D. mentor and in charge of your very future.

🗨️ Looking for a smutty, slutty, funny and comforting fic? Well, look no further! 🌟 This really delivered 👏🏾 really, really good. The sexual tension between reader and Namjoon 💯 and then best friend Jimin, being the best chaotic slutty wingman EVER 🥵

⭐Deep End by @here2bbtstrash // knj x f.reader // established relationship, period!smut // 🥵🥰

📝 Your boyfriend suggests a new way to relieve your period cramps.

🗨️ Awww, this was so cute and sweet 🥺💖💯

⭐Baby Fever by @95rkives // knj x f.reader // established relationship // 🥰🥰🥰

📝 What was supposedly a peaceful morning stroll in the park, an unexpected encounter triggers namjoon’s intense desire for a baby, turning him into an adorable, baby fever-filled mess.

🗨️ Gosh this was cute - and wonderfully fluffy 😍

⭐All Night 💯 by @luaspersona // knj x f.reader // college!au, brother’s best friend!au, s2l // 🥵

📝 When your brother bails on you, you have to find another way to entertain yourself for the night and Kim Namjoon just so happens to be a great company.

🗨️ This was the most perfect, pure masterpiece of fucking gold writing 🤌🏾🥵 it is insanely filthy, so deliciously smutty!! Like I think my soul has left my body 🥵 the writing, story and the characters were brilliant ✨ this is hands down one of my new favorites and I WILL read this again soon, I promise you! Don’t sleep on this sweet bad boy Namjoon, okay 🥵 such an easy recommendation for me to make - do yourself a favor and read it if you haven’t (and if you have, then read it again!) ♥️💯

⭐Love Language 💯 by @rmnamjoons // knj x f.reader // soulmate!au // 🥵🥰

📝 Exactly one year before one meets their soulmate, their love’s first words spoken to them appear as a tattoo on their wrist. When Namjoon’s tattoo appears, however, it’s not of words, but of the most beautiful set of eyes he’s ever seen.

🗨️ I know that most of this was just pure smut, but damn it was cute 😭🥺💖

Yoongi

⭐Oh, darling! [series; ongoing] 💯 by @yoongiofmine // myg x f.reader // university!au, non idol au, professor!yoongi, student!reader // 🥰🌩️🥵

📝 Starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you’ve held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?

🗨️ Holy fucking shit 🥵🫣😳 I am speechless. My soul have left my body 🥵 it’s so good! ‘Kay bye 🫣 There’s only one chapter left!!!

⭐The Road Not Taken [series; ongoing] by @prodagustd // myg x f.reader // Brother’s best friend, pinning, lawyer!Yoongi x actress!reader // 🥰🌩️🥵

📝 This doesn’t have a summary, so here my take: it’s about OC’s pining for her brother’s best friend, Yoongi. Her life is quite messy, but her love for Yoongi has always stayed the same through all the years and hardship. He just doesn’t see her as anything other than his best friend’s sister (or does he???).

🗨️ I really like the back story in this so far, and damn, I feel like OC’s life is just a mangled puzzle of lies. Like she hasn’t found her thing yet, or what makes her truly happy in life 🥺 Only the first chapter is out, but it’s already good!🌸❤️

Jimin

⭐Exhaust by @jungk0oksthighs // pjm x f.reader // breakups, rebound sex - frenemies to ??? // 🥵

📝 Stuck in the middle of nowhere with a dead cell, you were overjoyed to see another car pull up to the rescue. However when the owner of that car knocked on your window, you were faced with the one person you once vowed you never wanted to see ever again. Park Jimin.

🗨️ It was too good 😭 and it says part 1 of 4 but I can’t find other parts to it 😭 gosh, it’s still good and the open ending is fine with a one shot, but damn I want more! 😂 I have questions that I want answers to, more stuff than I want to see unfold 🫣 but alas, it works fine as a standalone, and it was a good read ♥️

⭐Wait for Me 💯 by @jiminniethemarshmallow // pjm x f.reader // established relationship, pwp // 🥵

📝 This one doesn’t have a summary, but it’s about Jimin just wanting to fuck OC, but she has homework – it’s just really good pwp!

🗨️ This 🥵 OMG! If you value dirty talk, this one is definitely for you! ♥️ The smut was perfection and Jimin was just such a tease 😜💯

⭐Sleepless Night by @kwanisms // pjm x f.reader // cheating!au, work!au, coworker!Jimin // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 Y/N’s first business trip was supposed to be easy. She and her co-worker, Jimin, were to deliver a presentation for a client then return to the airport to catch a flight home but no one expected a blizzard to roll in. After having their flight cancelled Christmas Eve due to the storm, Y/N and Jimin are forced to share the only remaining hotel room with one king size bed.

🗨️ I think I’ve read this before – It’s really good. Although I’m not really into cheating!aus, I found it a good read 🙂

⭐Something Sweet by @moni-logues // pjm x f.reader // established relationship, pwp, tattoo artist!Jimin // 🥵🥰

📝 You've had a frustratingly slow day at the cafe and Jimin has had a no-show. There's only one thing for it, and that's to get busy yourselves.

🗨️ This was sweet and smutty and also hilarious (something happens that I won’t spoil). It’s a good read ❤️‍🔥

⭐Worth the Wait by @noona-la-la-la // pjm x f.reader // idol!au, virgin!Jimin, soft and romantic smut // 🥵🥰

📝 You aren’t sure why your boyfriend Jimin has taken things so slowly but you are now finally ready to have your first night together.

🗨️ This was actually really sweet, how Jimin wanted the night to be special 🥹

⭐The Bucket List, Prologue by @jeonggukingdom // pjm x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰

📝 Friday nights at the club are a common routine for you and your boyfriend but when you decided to go out that night with your usual group of friends, you had no idea Mina would tipsily confess to him the existence of a sexual bucket list you both made when you were still in college. And you sure as hell did not expect for your boyfriend to propose to help you fulfil every single wish written on that old piece of paper as soon as he got his hands on it.

🗨️ Holy fucking shit 🥵 🫣 this was so incredibly good, the smut was superb, and the promise of the the bucket list was just so enticing! The only thing I didn’t like, is that this is the only part there is 🤣 but as a discontinued series, this has brilliant potential, and it also works just fine as a one-shot (which is why I’m recommending it 😉).

Jungkook

⭐When the End Comes [series; ongoing] 💯 by @oddinary4bts // jjk x f.reader // breakup!au, slice of life!au, photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!reader // 🌩️🌩️🌩️🥵

📝 Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

🗨️ This is a sequel to ‘The Forgotten Spaces’, which was just *chef’s kiss* 😘This has a lot, and I mean A LOT more angst in it – but it is worth it! I cannot describe how much I genuinely adore this couple with all my heart, I just want them to be happy! There’s only one chapter left of the series. The sequel is heart wrenchingly beautiful, it truly is. When you read it, stock up on tissues before hand 😉💜

⭐Stretch You Out 💯 by @chateautae // jjk x knj x f.reader // college!au, s2f2l, gym employee!namjoon, gym employee!jungkook // 🥵🥰

📝 You have a plan for your crappy, diabolical ex who’s set on ruining your life; making him jealous by snagging a raunchy photo with two hot employees at the gym. what you didn’t have a plan for? befriending the mischievous pair to aid in your revenge and ending up underneath not just one, but both of them.

🗨️ Holy fucking shit 🥵 🫣 this was so exceptionally good! So deliciously filthy, it really delivered on every freaking aspect 💯 incredible 👏🏾 perfection 👏🏾 💎

I feel like I haven’t read that much this month – which is understanding because I’ve been writing a lot. But gosh, I miss reading all of the amazing stories out there and my reading list is still hella long 😂 I am moving in the beginning of October, so I don’t know how much I’ll get to read (or write for that matter), but I hope I’ll have some time here and there 😀

Borahae 💜

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savnofilter · 8 months

Text

Wet Dreamz | Katsuki Bakugo

Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugo x Pro Hero!Black![FEM]Reader

CONTENT WARNING(S): sexual content, mutual (?) pining, hint of infidelity, bakugo & reader are a duo, reader is in their head a LOT, clubbing, grinding, shifty hands mentions of perversion, voyeurism, fingering (m->f), making out, blue balling, mentions of infidelity, slight sero x reader, bakugo & reader are basically playing cat and mouse.

WORD COUNT: 10.8k words (45 mins).

I/B: wet dreamz by j. cole | wired interview w/bts

READ MORE: masterlist + [bakugo & students masterlist]

KEY:

y/n = your name.

l/n = last name.

h/n = hero name.

h/n/n = hero nickname.

c/n= country name.

g/s= grading system.

h/t = home town.

"italics" = words in full quotation marks is indicated as English.

bold = words in full quotation marks is indicated as your native language.

A/N: just because ie didnt want reader to just be a american, i left things like talking in native language to be up to interpretation. almost everything is up for interpretation in this one lol. slowly tryna get used to writing real stories instead of just fuckin. makes me wish ie was doing this earlier because it's actually really fun to think stuff up for stories. not rushing and getting smt out to have it out lol. the lyrics are… interpreted in a different kind of way, sort of play on words if you will. anyways hope y'all like it! i sure did. 🫶🏽 thank you anon!

"Cameras rolling in—"

The camera crew were finishing the set up in the background, the makeup stylists were adding their additional touches and you only had a few seconds to mentally prepare for your filming.

"Three, two …. !"

Snap.

"Hi! My name is Y/N, better known as H/N!"

"And I'm Bakugo Katsuki, also known as Dynamight."

"And we are here with WIRED to answer the web's most searched questions!" You two finished the cut unanimously.

The camera cuts to you as you turn to him with a nervous jitter, still with the joyful appearance you always kept. "I'm pretty nervous, people are wild these days."

H/N.

A hero that represented what it means to be a young, headstrong role model. A hero that was from a country outside of Japan whom Bakugo was immediately infatuated with upon first meeting.

L/N.

His interest in your last name marked your own culture, despite being foreign to him. The name you didn't say as you introduced yourself to the camera.

Y/N.

Your first name that he is always itching to say, practicing day and night how it'd finally roll off his tongue when you two could get to that stage. Today seemed to be that day.

You two had been paired up as a duo for about over a year now for some hero promotions and the chemistry between you two had been gradually growing. Indeed, you did not speak much as you had initially expressed not being confident in your Japanese abilities when you moved to Japan, but he is deeply impressed by your determination to continue learning the language.

"Oh! The boards are in English, I might excel in this." You joke, towards the camera.

"You excel in a lot of things, H/N/N." Bakugo promptly responds and he's just as quick to move on after he pulls up the cardboard and tilts it to the side, ready to officially start the interview off. Your lips purse together as you swallow the budging feeling to crack a smile at the personal nickname. Bakugo always had a knack for nicknaming people, but hearing yours out loud in front of everyone else gave you an entirely different feeling. One you couldn't place.

"Who is in…?" The blonde-haired male tilts the board as he reads it, proving his dexterity as he also rips the label off to reveal the rest of the first search. You could tell he was struggling a bit and you move your head to read it as well.

"Firecracker," You finish off with a smile, sitting closer to the edge of your seat as you look at it. "Although we just introduced ourselves, I'm sure we can spruce it up a little?"

Bakugo takes the initiative with a subtle nod, using his other hand to gesture to you as he introduces you for the repetitive round of introduction.

"This is, Y/N or "better known as" H/N. One of, maybe, only heroes I can tolerate."

You can't help but laugh at his rendition, nodding your head as you adjust yourself in your seat. "The honesty, wow! We have, uh," You turn more to your side, looking him up and down before looking into his eyes. "Lord Explosion Murder: Dynamight? But you may know him as just Katsuki." You look back at the cameras as you finish, a bit of sass as you conclude.

Katsuki.

The way you said it just sounds so much better than when anyone else says it.

An unexpected chuckle comes from him as he teases you back. "I think I liked my intro better than yours." He rips off the next label and turns the board for you to read.

"Who in Firecracker got their quirk first? " You hum and look up at him, face full of concentration now. Bakugo's gaze is completely focused on your face as you go into deep thought, scarlet eyes taking in your change of expressions. His gaze follows your body and takes in the details of your outfit, the volume in your hair, and the way that the makeup stylist (fortunately) did you justice that properly accentuated everything beautiful about your skin tone and features.

Bakugo was starting to like everything about you, and he was starting to crush hard.

"I think I got mine in, uh…" You roll your eyes to the right as you look back at the camera, perking up as it comes to you. "I guess at five years old… you guys would call it during yōchien. For me it's called, "G/S". How about you, Katsuki?"

He's smug in response, puffing up his chest as he looks into the camera with pure arrogance. "Four years old. That means I win this question."

"I didn't know we were competing." You joke back.

He soon peels off the last question for the section, turning the board to him to keep it to himself. "I want to read it."

"Oh, okay…"

"Who is the strongest in Firecracker? " Before he's finished with the question you're already grinning and pointing towards Bakugo. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, throwing the bit of paper on the floor and adjusting himself in his seat, his demeanor flustered if you were paying close attention to him.

"We're both fuckin' strong. Give yourself more credit."

You double-blink as you try to rack something up to say. Bakugo has never complimented you before—at least nothing more than "good work today" or a "nice job out there" or something along the lines of that. You did notice lately he's been more communicative with you, but you chalked it up to the fact that maybe he can tolerate you more now with the fact your Japanese is getting better. Still, you had no compass or direction to tell what he was feeling at any given moment.

To your rescue, an exasperated callout comes from behind the cameras, making you laugh out as well as the camera crew behind the director.

"Watch the potty mouth, Bakugo-kun!"

You give Bakugo's shoulder a light push, immediately going to grab the next board for a visual excuse for your nervous fiddling. "We both know how incredible your strength is! I'm being real."

— ✮ ★ ☆ —

The rest of the recording went pretty well, and the chemistry between you two was undeniable. It seemed as though the longer the shoot went, the more comfortable you two got with each other. It hadn't hit you until now that you and him never really talked before.

Of course, it's not like you two ignored each other, no, that wasn't the case. But finding out things like what his favorite meal is during a movie, or why he loved hiking so much made you want to learn more about him. He is also much funnier than you had thought.

You were pretty aware of the rabid fanbase that followed him consistently. The fan edits, the stans, the ones who truly believed they were going to marry the young man. The thought made you cringe as you thought back on your first reaction upon hearing that you two were being paired together for this joint project.

"This will be a great opportunity to reach a further fanbase across the globe in countries that love to support their favorite superheroes!" Your manager exclaimed in excitement before wiggling her brows as she nudged you. "And by support, you know what I mean…"

"Financially?" You finished her sentence, an uninterested look on your features.

"Yes! This will be such a big break for you. Think about it -- they see you paired with one of their top heroes. One, they'll think you can keep up with him. Two, this is an opportunity to grow your exposure as a fairly new hero on the scene. But third, and most importantly the country relations." She looked at you with a serious look this time, her gaze strong.

You scoffed at the implications of the "perks". You were sitting still in the comfort of your manager's old office, your unmoving reaction giving her an insight into how you had truly felt.

"Look, I know you like to be on that 'I can do this myself' tirade, but this will look great. For both of you."

"But at the expense of me though," You crossed your arms and looked down at your feet as you couldn't help but feel blindsided. "I mean, you didn't even ask me. I have never been to Japan, and I don't even know this dude. He could be a fucking creep for all I know!"

"Y/N." She said it as a warning for your tone. She sighs and softens up a bit, but still maintains her composure. "This is something that could be good for you. Think about the titles, the awards, hell even the recognition. Isn't that what you want?"

Not when it sounds like that, no. You didn't become a hero and train this much for the fame of it. You weren't an idiot, and you knew that part of the job is to get your face out there. But a part of you feared that you could become a person who would only go for things that will look good without actually doing the part.

"Do you seriously think you'll be some big-shot hero while staying a nobody in here? We need to expand."

You scoffed at her wording, eyes flickering up to look at her in offense. "So you think I can't be successful on my own?"

"Y/N-"

"I get that there isn't much of a demand here, but I feel as though I am fulfilling my duties. I don't need to be famous to make an impact. I like it here."

"You aren't thinking long term. There simply isn't enough demand, and that has to change. I know it's hard but you have to trust me." She reached across the desk to hand you the papers, the gesture not received on your end.

Sasha called out your name as you muttered a dismissal from the meeting. You stood up as you gathered your stuff from her desk, packing up the discarded papers and other supplies. You knew you were being dramatic, but rightfully so. This was never discussed, nor did you ever think you would have to live in a foreign place. It was so painfully random and left field that you couldn't help but feel slighted that such a big decision was already made for you. Especially where foreigners weren't exactly welcomed and that thought alone made you nervous.

That night was hazy if you remember correctly. You didn't have anything to attend to, you just wanted out. You were worried sick about this new endeavor. You would have to say goodbye to everything you had built at home. The community, the friends, the experiences. All for this opportunity. You were an emotional mess and honestly, as you cringe thinking about it now, it wasn't that serious but it sure felt like it. You were only given a year to brace yourself for the inevitable, train, say goodbye to the people you were used to seeing every day, and on top of that, learn a whole new fucking language.

One thing you did remember correctly though was your manager calling you to check up. When it had slipped up that you were currently out drinking and sad about yourself, she hopped in her car and immediately came to your rescue to pick you up before you could do something stupid. The car ride was silent as she didn't want to chew you out then and make you feel any worse than you already did. When the time was right, she had thought up something to say. It was her words that stuck with you that made you start to reconsider this business decision.

"Listen, if I told you, I know that you would say no," Sasha said as she held your hand, voice softer than ever. "But I know you deserve better and bigger than this." She sits up a bit in her chair that sat on the side of your bed and properly tucked your hair back into your hair cover. "It's not because I don't think you're incapable. It's because I know you would stay here in this small town without growing and staying in your ways."

"But I like it here… I like the people. My family is here… the community needs me…" Your voice cracked at the end as tears started to spill from your eyes. "I can't just leave. it's more than the accolades, the fame. I want to make a change and I c-can't do that if I'm not here."

She hums as she brings you in for a hug, a twinge of hurt coming from her. Sasha felt awful seeing you like this, and she was aware that even when in her best intentions her decisions could be harsh. Even if she wanted nothing but to see you succeed, she wanted you to be happy too.

"Listen," She starts as she wipes your tears. "We'll figure something out, okay? You won't be abandoning this place. If I can secure a deal like this, I'm sure I can sway some more from the company to get you happy. Alright?"

You meekly nod, your overflow of emotions never stopping as you can't calm yourself. You were too destroyed to come around to the idea. You were terrified of the turn of options and all the drinking you did that night did not help one bit. You are so used to being well-liked, what would the world offer when you change from a small hero in your H/T to a big international one? To what lengths did you have to keep giving yourself up to make the higher-ups happy? Were you in over your head choosing this path?

These questions were justified, but it all came back to the same common theme: boxing yourself in. If you didn't want to do this, you would've called it quits long ago. But here you were, and even with all the villains you've taken down, this seemed scarier. Nothing is more frightening than putting yourself somewhere you are emotionally vulnerable. And for the lack of a better word, alone.

You'd have to start again, meet new people, start a new routine. How would you be able to adapt?

"You'll have a year and some change before you go over. I've already been scouting for the best Japanese tutors out there." She pulled back when it seemed as though your sobbing had subsided and she smiled. "I'll get you the best of the best and I'll be damned if you're not taken care of."

You nodded wordlessly and wiped the tears from your cheeks. She handed you your water bottle once you sit up, a hand on your back for support.

"So think about it, please. I know it's scary to think about, but this can help you. Seriously." She stands up and tidies up the area before gathering her stuff. "And you won't be alone, remember that."

She smiles before closing your bedroom door leaving you to your muddled thoughts.

Later on, it was revealed that your pairing would have the "organic" formation. You two would be put together for a few big missions and soon enough when the public would notice, that's when the process of being in a semi-duo would take effect. Your manager made sure to stress how it was important the two of you kept your individual identities to cover all basis. No fan will be completely pushed out of their comfort zone while you two could rely on each other when the job needed it. The other part of the deal was that you would be able to work almost more than half of the year in Japan whilst being able to use the other days to visit back to your country and most importantly your home town.

It was a win-win and you couldn't thank Sasha any more than you did when she relayed the news. When recounting it, you can vividly remember the amount of relief that washed over you to the point it made you emotional again. The feeling of embarrassment had also risen to the surface and you profusely apologized about the prior outbursts to the initial news. In manager fashion, she hushed you before reassuring you that it was her job to get her client right and out there. If you didn't have her, you honestly weren't sure where you'd be right now.

But unfortunately, the things you overthought about weren't exactly wrong either. Most of the things that popped up in your head had come to fruition, some worse than others. Being in a duo with a male counterpart was rough. Especially if he was hot young and (seemingly) a bachelor. People didn't like to see their fave with the opposite sex who seemed to be of that same description with the added addition that they don't come from the same background as well.

Recently after the WIRED interview, the fans were starting to come along to the idea much more than it seemed. Many more positive comments were starting to pop up online and now the public perception of your pairing was really starting to kick off.

There was a mixture of comments that ranged from, "Wow! They look so cute together" "You have to admit they do get the job done" to "I fucking hate XYZ" and we don't need to address the vulgar ones…

Of course, at first, you use to read those comments for hours. You'd be stuck on an unhealthy loop, emotions from high to low as it seemed there was never a day that didn't have all kinds of comments and interactions. Some days are better than others, and some days you'd have to force yourself to log off and do other things in your life. But all in all, the interview seemed to be a hit so now both your agencies are scrambling to book more to boost engagement.

You sigh as you stretch out onto your couch, thinking about how two years have been both hell and a blessing. You stare up at your ceiling as your phone locks, setting it on your coffee table.

The idea to message Sasha as you recounted past and recent memories started to poke at you. You still hesitate on the action though considering the fact you know she's always busy with her schedule. You feel a buzz and you pick up your phone, the text catching your attention.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Are you up for going out today?

[->] Sent 13:34.

'speaking of the devil….' you smile and swipe up to correspond to her message.

You

depends. what am I leaving for?

[✓] Sent 13:35.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

I've got a client I want you to get closer with.

Management says it'll be good for you to get more acquainted with the heroes here. You might actually like her.

[✓] Sent 13:41.

You hum in curiosity, thinking about it a bit before replying.

You

who is it?

[✓] Sent 13:42.

Chat bubbles pop up on your screen and you watch as she types up her response. Today you were taking a very much-needed break for the week and you weren't too sure if you wanted to go out and do some crazy amount of networking.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Mina and a few others are in the top 10 for Japan.

You may have met her already, at those galas a few times.

[✓] Sent 13:47.

Your brows quirk up at the name. You're quick to open Instagram, wanting to see a more personal image of her than the one you would see from a search engine.

Oh.

Yeah, you remembered her. She was lively for sure and everyone around her seemed to like her as well. Her page was a mix of official posts and personal ones, perfectly balancing out professional and niche drives to curate an audience. There were even a few posts that were shitposts too.

You were intrigued. Now that you thought about it, you didn't have any friends here… like at all. You spent most of your time focused on work, and if not that, then interacting with your fans in person and online. When you weren't doing either of those things, you were studying Japanese. Surely the studying paid off though with the additional advantage of living in the environment to grasp the content. One could even call your behavior shut-in, but could you blame yourself? Even with your determination to get yourself out there, it was hard. You were still trying to adjust to all of this, and you haven't hit your time mark to visit home just yet. Hell, you can't even remember the last time you got laid.

Your phone dinging catches your attention again and you realize that you hadn't got back to your manager yet.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

So is it a yes? I will be forwarding your number to her.

[✓] Sent 13:56.

You think a bit before coming to a decision but you need a bit more info first.

You

yes for now, but who else will be there?

you mentioned something about a few others.

[✓] Sent 13:59.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Well, I know that Bakugo will be there, but I am not sure who the other people are. Just got in that it's actually not just the top 10, just a few other heroes around the province as well.

[✓] Sent 14:02.

You hesitate at the information on your screen. Bakugo is going to be there? You're not sure why, but a sense of anxiousness starts to flood you as you start to think about him in such a casual setting. You blink a few times as you rub your forehead, now starting to rethink your decisions.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

Y/N, you will be fine. I'm sending a car to pick you up at 18:30. Wear something… "cunty" and cute. There might be paps there so look good pls. 👀

[✓] Sent 14:05.

You groan loudly at her text and almost want to throw your phone. Is she for real? Even when you need to go out to meet people, it's still about your image. You wanted to text her your thoughts, but a better part of you knows that this outing is probably for your good. You just hoped that these people weren't controversial and this wouldn't be hard work to clean up anything that comes along with their bullshit. You doubted the idea as you remember how much your agency wants to push you to the public. Anything that could be a blip in your appearance was always scrapped and replaced. They were your last safety net to coast safely in this whole hero-ing thing if you were being honest.

You

Sasha… 😐

"cunty"??? PLEASE.

[✓] Sent 14:09.

Sasha-Sama 👯‍♀️

↳ Liked your picture.

🤷🏾‍♀️

Love you, N/N! And stay safe, you know to call me if anything is going on. 💪🏾

[✓] Sent 14:11.

You jokingly send a thumbs down in retaliation to her message, albeit hearting the message as you know she means well. Turning your head to the side, you find yourself staring back at your TV's black mirror. You still had a lot of time left so you decided to at least start prepping for the evening ahead of time.

To prevent the inevitable disruption of hunger, you make your way into the kitchen and decide to get something to eat. You prepare leftover protein to eat with noodles that you've wanted to try all week. It's like when you think of mixing a food combo but take forever to put it into fruition. In anticipation of your ingenious meal, you eagerly await its arrival as the smell taunts you as you wait.

Once it's done you are in no rush to scarf down your food. You even sit down at one of the high chairs on your island with a half-awake presence. It was no surprise that you woke up late today due to the fatigue that comes along with being a pro-heroin. You couldn't even recount the last time you sat down and ate a meal like this. Back in the day (why did you age yourself like that?) when you were in, H/T, you always had enough time to do everything. To experience everything. Yes, you felt blessed to be here even with how hard it's been, but to be able to just sit and relax was a whole new feeling of euphoria you haven't felt in a while. The feeling was pretty nice.

You scoff as you try to think about how things can change so fast. As you blankly stare at your surroundings, you map out the different things you should get to make your penthouse more "homey". It was a very nice and very, very, very expensive place. One that you were definitely not paying for yourself, one that your company took the liberty to do. You have only been able to get the basic things you need for a living space, and only some decorations to truly make it yours. Hell, you even had more clothes than furniture and dishes combined. But that was thanks to sponsors and of course, having to properly ration your paychecks. You had to admit your living space being taken care of for you was an immense help to begin with so you didn't want to complain too much.

Your phone buzzing on the couch successfully gains your attention and you can't help but sigh in annoyance. One thing to also note about being in Japan is that you were practically on call all the time. There was a reason you couldn't leave your phone on silent. You finish up your current bite before hopping down from your chair and trudging your way to your device. You light up upon the contact on your screen. It's an unknown number but the person messaging you makes themselves known in their message.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

hiya! this is Mina!! heard you were coming out with me tonight! 🤟

hope this is the right number lol

[✓] Sent 14:39.

You

Hey! Yes, this is the right number, haha.

My name's Y/N :)

[✓] Sent 14:40.

Mina

your name is SO CUTE! it really suits you <3

[✓] Sent 14:41.

Your heart flutters as you receive the compliment, a giddy grin spreading across your lips as you get more eager to contact her.

You

Thank you! I could say the same for you 🫶🏽

[->] Sent 14:42.

Your thumbs hover over your screen as you try to think of something else to say, not wanting the conversation to die so fast. She hasn't seen your message yet and hopes something comes out of this interaction. Deciding not to stress about it too much, you resume finishing your meal.

So many thoughts run through your mind as you try to prepare yourself for tonight. Even in your hometown, you didn't frequent clubs or bars often, especially not with well-established individuals your age either. It seemed as though Mina was nice enough but you had to factor in the fact Bakugo was going to be there. Then it was also the added stress that other people you didn't even know would be there as well.

You still have no real idea of Bakugo. He seemed pretty reserved, almost goody-two-shoes-like. But honestly, you're sure you gave off the same image as well. Something about him just gave… in the clean. Saying innocent felt like a stretch but you were starting to lean towards that with his mostly clean record. But that could easily be attributed to the fact there was no doubt his agency was probably paying out-of-pocket to keep the shit he does on the low. Maybe you should take it upon yourself to look into him…

Amid your inner thinking, you had decided to clean up the kitchen after your brunch. Having just finished eating, you are now cleaning your dishes. Some dishes were left in the sink and strewn about, but the place thankfully wasn't a pigsty. You rest your hands on the edge of the sink, thinking about the many ways tonight can go before reminding yourself that any time you have tried to predict the future, shit has always gone left field. You hum as you shut the tap water off when you finish and push off the sink to find a towel to dry your hands with. You make your way back to your phone and sit down on one of the high-up chairs as you check your phone.

Mina

this is sort of sudden, but do you want to go shopping with me tonight? figured you don't have that many friends anyways

we can get to know each other!

[✓] Sent 14:57.

Well damn. She ain't have to say it like that. You feel a tad embarrassed at the wording but make up your mind anyway. You itch the back of your neck as you reply immediately.

You

Of course! I would love to. When should I get ready?

[✓] Sent 14:59.

Mina

i figured you'd say yes lol. omw what's your address?

[✓] Sent 15:00.

Your brows shoot up at the late notice and hesitate a bit. You look at the time before deciding to go along with it anyways.

You

000-0000 Shibuya-ku

[✓] Sent 15:03 P.M.

Mina

sweet! will be there soon 😉

[✓] Sent 15:04.

— ✮ ★ ☆ —

"Hey!" Mina calls out from her car as soon as the windows are rolled down. "You are so much cuter in person!" She unlocks her doors and gives you a wink as you bashfully laugh at her friendly flirting.

"Thank you, you too." You smile as you get in and adjust yourself. You look around as you get settled and admire the layout. You still have yet to get your license and being driven around could sometimes get tiring.

"I was thinking that we should go to that new store in that big shopping district mall in the district. They usually have cute stuff on sale there." Mina suggests. She expertly pulls off and looks over at you with a grin before reaching over to playfully nudge you. "No need to be so tense around me! I totally get you are probably really nervous. Don't worry, I can get you hooked up." She smirks as she looks back at the road, giving you a small glance before she finishes her thought. "In more ways than one…"

"A-Ah, I'm not too sure about that one." You nervously laugh. "If I'm being honest I haven't done anything at all since I've been here… especially, that."

With the gasp she let out, you would think that you just told her you work for the League of Villains. As she reaches a red light she looks over at you with a shocked look, completely flabbergasted at your admission.

"Are you serious?!"

"Completely."

"Not even joking?"

"I am so serious."

"...how?" She looks away completely in silence and scoffs. "Doesn't matter anyways, we'll get you laid in no time~"

You chuckle at her determination and shake your head. "To be honest I'm not really in the mood for that stuff… I kind of like being by myself. It's way less stressful."

"Well, no one said you have to be committed. A little fun once in a while doesn't hurt."

You hum in agreement and rest your arm on the armrest. Mina wasn't completely wrong, but you were totally out of the loop by now. You had to leave behind all of your suitors and sneaky links in H/T. Even then you were too busy with work. There were moments when you wanted to get out there for some sort of excitement to ease your boredom, but nothing ever came of it. Your desire to relinquish your needs always ends with you, your toys, and your imagination. A bit devastating if you think about it too hard.

The bustling shopping district Nina talked about isn't too far from your place and you have also learned that Mina lived pretty close to you as well. There are so many people moving about; lots of people doing their things and plenty who seemed to recognize you both. Luckily, she knew of some ways to avoid crowds.

By the time you two had made it to the mall, basically half an hour and then some had passed. Mina sucked her teeth as she looked at her phone to check the time, her manicured nails tapping against the screen as she spoke to you.

"Ah, who cares? The place is pretty laid back. Being a little late might make you look cooler."

Mina had persuaded you to stop by her favorite boba cafe near the newly opened stores. And surely after reassuring you a bit, she had convinced you to let her take care of the spending for today (although you decided in your head that you'd pay her back).

She grins at you as she finally puts her phone away to look at the menu board. You watch as she effortlessly orders her usual at the kiosk. You attempted to keep up with her movements but it proved to be a difficult task. This pink-haired girl was much more assertive and bold than you thought she would be. Everything she did was done with such confidence and carefree energy that you felt mesmerized by how she carried herself. Though her bluntness did shock you a bit from time to time. The way she talks to you is like you two have known each other for years instead of the fact you two have only greeted each other in passing at formal events. It was her unique sense of being a girl's-girl that made it much easier to get more comfortable with her.

The wait for the drinks doesn't take that long and soon enough you two are on your way to the clothing store. You admired everywhere around and swore to yourself to go out more often. You hadn't realized all the cool stuff you had been missing by just focusing on furthering your career. You were pretty amazed at how the store you were visiting occupied two whole floors, with another giant store on top of it as well.

You and Mina were separate in the store since you two were looking for different things. You were looking for a new pair of bottoms while she looked for accessories on the floor below. You mindlessly sifted through the clothes on the racks not sure what you were looking for specifically. Periodically you'd look out the window and admire the view outside, the day's sky shifting to a more dreamy sunset tone. The music you couldn't recognize softly played in the background, but the ambiance of the 2000-early 2010s feel certainly encapsulated the store.

You find yourself humming softly to the tunes though, a bit shocked that you could understand some of it. Some songs and artists you could recognize while some seemed to be either Japanese or from a different place entirely. As you paid half attention to the clothes while the other half tried listening to the music, the next artist that comes in makes you stop. You're unmoving in your spot and look around as you listen closely, a smile spreading across your lips as the tune properly makes its way to your ears.

It was a song from J. Cole and shockingly enough it was uncensored too. You lightly laugh to yourself as they tend to do this, playing foreign songs with the cuss words on full blast without a care in the world. You couldn't quite place your finger on which song it was though and it seemed as though the song was about to finish anyways.

Soon enough you can find a pair of pants that would suit the outfit and idea you had in mind have half a mind to try it on. You find your way through the options as the song unfolds, looking at the different clothes on your way to the dressing rooms. You softly hum along to the song although making sure not to be too loud. Lord knows you already stick out like a sore thumb, but god, you did love a good J. Cole song.

As the unnamed song comes to a finish, you are on your way to find the dressing rooms. A courteous attendant asks normal customer service questions before leaving you to be in your presence. It's not long before the next song plays and it so happens to be another J. Cole song, except you knew this song very well.

You breathe out a laugh as the intro starts to play and you have to keep your excitement in. You could hear the song much clearer in this section as it was more closed in than the rest of the other area. Despite the music being clearer now, the faint chatter around did indicate you were not alone, and many people liked this store as well.

'note to self: find the furthest stall to avoid any confrontation with anyone else.' You thought to yourself and continued your venture to the furthest spot.

By the time you had made it to the back, it seemed like there was one last stall at the end of the hall. At first glance, it seemed as though it was empty, but as you grew close, you noticed the door was ajar. You had half a mind to barge in but what you saw in the changing room made you freeze.

A familiar tuff of blonde hair and a toned figure dawning in a dark green tank that complimented his tan skin caught your eye. Your gaze followed the chain that adorned his masculine neck, his strong shoulders were next to fall into view, and his well-defined back that his shirt that perfectly molded to his skin was last. You could see he was hunched over in a position that didn't seem as though he was trying something on, but still moving nonetheless. A soft gasp that's immediately hushed makes you look up and your eyes widen. The sound was way too feminine, and it certainly was not from you. Another noise makes you squint, trying to see what was going on.

"Stop teasing me," She whispers to him and that's when you finally realize what the hell was going on.

Before you could turn around a pair of eyes makes contact with yours through the reflection of the mirror and you suck in a quiet breath at the fact now you have been caught. The reflection of his deep scarlet eyes showed no direct emotion and you couldn't read what he was feeling, much less thinking. His movements continued without faltering though and another soft sound of encouragement followed his actions. One thing was clear and there was no mistaking it: you could see him and Bakugo could see you. You know that you should leave. However, now you are dangerously curious and confused. The worst part is that you were frozen in shock.

Prettily manicured fingers lightly glide over his shoulders and trace his tanned skin before finding its way to lose itself in his hair. You could hear her question what he was looking at before guiding him to pay his full attention to her once again. It's when he breaks eye contact you can finally break out of your trance.

It was at that moment that the song over speakers reached your ears again and the irony that hangs through the air is almost laughable. No longer wanting any part in listening or seeing this go down, you swiftly turn around and walk away pretending nothing happened in the hope to find the furthest stall away from him.

When you find a stall you immediately close the door and throw the store's clothes onto the side. You rub your temples and close your eyes, another sigh leaving your lips for the millionth time today. Much to your dismay, closing your eyes didn't ease the impending headache that was about to hit, nor did it halt the memory of what you just witnessed. Your mind only brought the visualization of what you just saw to the forefront. You purse your lips as it didn't help that her voice accompanied the memory.

'it started off real innocent my ass.' You thought to yourself as that part of the song over the speakers made its way to your ears. When you open your eyes you're met with your reflection in two mirrors and have no other choice but to look at yourself. You felt like you were going crazy and rightfully so! You weren't innocent yourself, no, but have some damn grace. To be so careless like that, you're starting to realize that the coworker you thought you had a general idea of is way off.

But what did this make you? You stood there and watched them. Not for long, but long enough. Long enough that he saw you. Bakugo knew you were standing there and didn't do anything about it. At first, you thought that his expression was unreadable, but the more you thought about it, you had completely missed the challenging look in his eyes.

The piercing look of instigation with a hint of his curiosity. It was as if it was a look of provocation. As if… beckoning you to try something. Or are you desperately trying to justify why you watched two people doing lewd acts to each other while you just stood there in shock? One of them being your partner in fighting against crime.

You harshly scoff and turn around to avoid looking at yourself to hopefully put off letting it run through your head any longer. You start to strip your clothes off and face the door as you get undressed. As your mind starts to clear, you hear the song playing over the speakers and can't help but humorlessly laugh at the fact the song was about to finish. It had only been what? Almost four minutes and this whole thing had you in shambles. It would've been easier to handle if you didn't have to see him so soon—as in literally a couple of hours—but nope, your dumbass decided to go out today. To, "network". To have fun.

After finishing your haul you have long forgotten any songs playing over the speaker and now you just wanted to leave this store without encountering those two ever again, actually. Unfortunately, never seeing them again isn't an option, and making sure not to cross paths with them for now will be quite the challenge.

You slam the door open and accidentally startle the other shoppers due to your outburst. While apologizing profusely you hear a familiar voice call out to you, a wave of relief hitting over you once you realize it's Mina.

"Ready to check out?" Mina asks, completely unaware of what just happened. You wordlessly nod your head as you follow behind her, ready to get out of this place as fast as possible.

— ✮ ★ ☆ —

The club's music did not disappoint. Admittedly, you have been to a few clubs here and there that completely sucked. Like… really bad. The clubbing scene is totally different and it was clear that the culture here was adversely opposite of what you were used to. Not to say that every club you went to back in H/T was spectacular, but you could at least anticipate people having a ball and throwing ass. Consequently, you were pleasantly surprised by the one you were invited to since you chalked it up to cultural differences. However, it may have just been that you needed to find places that worked for you.

As aforementioned, you and Mina did end up arriving late but it seemed as though many of the other people in your party were milling about and having fun anyways to pay attention to that fact. You met a few others that your manager had briefly mentioned and had the pleasure to meet.

The first was Momo, a hero that had lots of prestige and was very kind. She often modeled but did other charity work as well. She had offered to put in a good word for you as she deeply admired your beauty. The next was another woman, Hagakure. You had heard about her before, and somehow her outgoing presence and energy rivaled Mina's. The downside though you knew to keep your distance since she seemed a lot more.. chaotic which is why you had already known about her prior.

Then there were the other guys there. Denki who was practically Mina's partner in crime, and another one whose name is Sero. He was pretty chill, not going to lie pretty cute too. He had a level of nonchalant charm that had you intrigued. The top hero of the country who everyone knew and loved was also rumored to make an appearance, but Sero advised you not to hold your breath. It was a whole workaround just to get the top three heroes in a public setting like this even when they could find refuge in the V.I.P section such as this one. It was a miracle that the second top hero—Dynamight A.K.A Bakugo Katsuki—was in attendance that night as well. Women and even men were always trying to find opportunities to throw themselves onto their desired hero, hoping that they'll be, "the one". The thought always made you laugh at the insanity of it all. Throughout the interaction, you did find yourself swayed to chat it up with him. He seemed sweet and Sero was honestly a calm breath of fresh air compared to the vibrant personalities that you have met so far. Even with how well you two were kicking it off, it did feel like something was looming around. Almost as if someone was watching you.

You assumed that you'd be safe on the terrace as there were a handful of people out there too. When you looked around you couldn't see anyone, and it seemed as though everyone was doing their own thing and partying. You're not sure how but at a certain point you two had gotten closer in distance, thighs touching and personal space becoming slim. You'd lean into his ear so he could "hear you better", his calloused hand resting on your knee that touched his and you had to admit that you didn't want it to stop. The small amount of liquid courage was making this easier for you. The alcohol gave you a level of confidence that made your words have a lighthearted cadence to them, much more fluid than when you are sober and worrying if your vocabulary is fluent and with the trends.

"D'you wanna dance?" Sero proposed. There was a playful grin on your face and you were more than welcome to oblige.

"I'd love to."

Both of your bodies are close and you can feel his strong hands on your hips. There is no space in between and there was no mistaking that you could feel his,,, friend down there. But you welcomed it. You even pulled his arms closer and ground against him. It had been a while since you have danced like this and he was cute enough for you to let this continue.

While feeling the rhythm (and his obvious boner and shifty hands) you catch the attention of someone you weren't expecting. You're too into feeling the motions of your environment to properly be stunned but it was no mistake that it was the same guy you vowed to avoid until further notice, Bakugo. You two never break eye contact as you tilted your head to the side, the horny male behind you taking it as a sign to kiss your neck. Your brows scrunch in pleasure as his lips are undoubtedly skilled, his teeth teasing your skin numerous times but not deep enough to leave any marks. Your hands find their way to tangle in his hair, egging him on to continue.

Bakugo's eyes are intense just like you had witnessed in the changing room. It seemed as though he had no plans on breaking eye contact with you and it scared you in a way that he was unwavering. While you cowered coming across him and his presumed girlfriend, he openly stared at you. Another challenging look with confidence oozing from him. Just when a hand starts to wander a little south on your body, he starts to move towards you and now you're starting to get anxious.

Breaking eye contact, you're quick to turn around in Sero's hold, an apologetic expression on your face.

"Too much?" Sero asks, his hand coming up to wipe a strand of hair from your face and you shake your head.

"I have to run to the restroom real quick, okay?" You squeeze his hand before leaving and take a few steps before actively making your way in the opposite direction in which Bakugo was going.

Your eyes search desperately for the bathrooms and much to your relief signs were pointing in that direction. Despite all of the dancing bodies and other people trying to make it around as well, you can find refuge and go into the restroom. You immediately walk up to the sink on the furthest side of the room and place your hands on the ledge of the sink. A deep sigh comes from you as you try to calm yourself down knowing that you were starting to get too cocky outside.

What the hell even was that?

You have had your fair share of rendezvous' and sneaking around, but never have you made eyes at someone's boyfriend or whatever the fuck he was to her. Everything about today was going way too fast, and you were sure you were going to need another drink.

You turn on the water and grab a paper towel to wet, applying the wet paper to clean off your face and skin. You were right about one thing though: Sero was pretty skilled and you wondered how he was able to contain himself and not mark your skin. Had it been any other bumbling idiot, you would've had to be covering up your neck and shoulders with makeup for a good few days or so.

You bend down to catch the water instead, fully committing to the idea that you'll reapply your makeup, if any, before leaving the bathroom to get yourself together. As you try to sober yourself up you hear the door open and close behind you and pay it no mind. The running water of the sink distracts you for a hot minute before it hits you that there was no movement at all after the door had initially opened. You turn off the water and turn around, a sharp gasp coming from you as you fully take in who's at the door.

"Having fun?" Bakugo asks in a tone you've never heard before. It was deeper, a light husk to it rather than his regular monotonous or rambunctious tone. He steps closer and you back up, trying to create more space between you. He scoffs at the action, stepping forward again and watching as you have nowhere else to go. You have no other choice but to watch him slowly make his way up to you, and you aren't sure what to expect.

"Bakugo," You start but fail to continue. What do you even say to him, how do you even start? Your mouth opens and closes as you try to collect yourself making him chuckle.

"Keep going and you might turn into a fish."

His mockery successfully makes you close your mouth and glare at him. Bakugo's calloused hand reaches out and softly touches your neck, tracing where Sero's lips once were. His thumb lightly traces your skin, a low hum in approval at how his work is pretty much unnoticeable.

"You shouldn't be in here." Your voice is low and timid. He grins at your words and places his hands on your hips, pushing you to sit back on the counter behind you. You curse yourself for choosing the last sink in the corner and you curse yourself for responding so easily to his touch. "And we shouldn't be like this either." You try to reason more with yourself more than anything.

He scoffs out a laugh and leans in close to your ear, lips brushing against your skin. "Why not? It's just us."

"But that… girl?" You lightly pull away from him and place your hands behind you to support yourself. His face shows confusion for a split second when he merely pulls inches away from you.

"Camie?" Bakugo's cocky demeanor returns as he slides his hands from your hips to your thighs, parting them enough to fit himself between them. "So it really was you at the store, eh? Didn't know my partner was such a pervert."

The nerve. He was the one who left the door ajar. If anything, you should be calling him the pervert.

"I-I wasn't trying to, you left the door open." You counter back, eyes narrowing in response. He lightly shrugs before moving in to kiss the opposite side of your neck Sero left untouched and places an open kiss on your skin.

"Must've forgot."

A humorless laugh comes from you in reaction to his answer, a soft gasp following in its footsteps. His teeth sink into your skin and you are sure that, unlike your first pick for the night, Bakugo definitely left a mark. You softly whimper as he places his right hand on your waist to press your body closer to his. Your back arches into his and you move your head to welcome his rough kisses, the stimulation undoubtedly reawakening the lust you had on the dance floor. His hand on your hip grips your thigh and slips its way to the middle of your legs, wasting no time pressing the pads of his fingers against your heat.

You moan at the pressure and hurriedly press your lips together in embarrassment. Your eyes are closed to avoid making eye contact with him as you already know he was gearing up to tease you.

"Shit, when was the last time you got fucked, princess?" Bakugo grips your cheeks and forces you to open your eyes. There's no way he expects you to answer with his grip, and you're sure he's not expecting it anyways. "Soy sauce face ain't do it for ya'?"

You look up at him with a dazed and confused look, the look in your eyes making him groan. The nicknames he picked were certainly unique, and you can't quite pinpoint why he coined Sero that; much less what their connection to each other is. He was under the assumption that like him you were actively 'busy' in your free time. You certainly weren't if that wasn't evident with how receptive you are to his touch.

"I'll get you all fixed up, baby," Bakugo leans in close to your lips, "make you forget all about that dunce's face." He finishes the declaration with a kiss, his grip softening on your cheeks and then moving to your neck.

The kiss, albeit sloppy, intoxicated you. His lumps were plump and soft, a hard contrast to his strong and calloused hands that held your thigh and waist. His tongue brushes against your lower lip asking for an entrance and you gladly allow him entrance. You moan as his tongue dominates your mouth, his wet muscle caresses yours with passion.

Your hands now gripped onto his strong shoulders like that other girl once did. You can't help but think about her, your thoughts starting to cloud about the two of them. You pull away as you start to feel guilty, a string of saliva connecting you two as you part.

"What's wrong?" Bakugo wipes the string of saliva away, a soft pant to his words as he collects himself.

"I just can't, Bakugo. You have a girlfriend."

"She's not my girl, not like that," Bakugo reassures, his thumb pressing against your lip before moving his finger to press various pecks against your lips. "I ain't never did this before, but I've had my eye on you for a while." The confession shamefully made you blush. You had always thought he was attractive but never thought deeper about it. Even a few days ago from the WIRED interview you never made the move to ask or even care about getting to know him. But here you were, sitting on a random club's sink with him between your luscious thighs.

Your cumbersome thoughts start to lose their way as he leans in to kiss you again, your worries washing away when his soft lips find yours. His kiss is overwhelmingly commanding and you love it. You were used to guys taking a more passive approach with you and the lack of control his kiss held undoubtedly made you more responsive to him. Even with that distinction from before, the kiss now is more controlled this time and his composure shows he meant business now. His tongue works smoothly against yours and doesn't shy away from wrestling with yours. You were so enraptured by the kiss you hadn't noticed his left hand had slipped into the front of your bottoms, the feeling of his fingers pressing against your clothed cunt making you buck into his hand.

You whimper as he continues his stroking, your hands never letting up their hold on his strong shoulders. His fingers welcome your grinding and he pulls away from the kiss to look down at the spot between your hips and watches in interest.

"Bakugo—"

"Katsuki," Bakugo corrects you and tilts your chin down to maintain eye contact with you once again.

You bite your lip and your eyes flutter closed once he presses his fingers against your clit eliciting a breathier moan from you.

"Say it and I'll put them in, Y/N." He lets his fingers slip down to collect your slick, the tips of his fingers lightly pressing at your entrance before tracking back up to play with your clit again.

"K-Kat," Your jaw locks up at his diddling, a frustrated pout adorning your features as you try to keep up with him. "I—thought you said you haven't done this before, hm?"

He lightly laughs at your accusation, softly shaking his head at your confusion. "Messin' around like this, princess." His eyes flicker down at your movements and softly groans.

"So it's not about me being a foreigner?"

"That too," The question gets a genuine laugh from him, his brow raising in amusement as he slips in a finger whilst he answers. "used to stealing other people's girl's, not the other way around."

"Shit!" Your fingers grip his tank top and you bring him in for another kiss. His experience is clear in the way he maintains his rhythm in both his kiss and fingering your sopping cunt. Bakugo slips in another finger when you start to lubricate more, a lewd squelch welcoming in his digits.

He curls his fingers to find your soft g-spot, his touch delicate but rough at the same time. You were a vocal one for sure and he loved it. When he presses his palm against your once abandoned clit, your sounds let him know how much you appreciated the attention again. You two break the kiss when you both need time to breathe, lips still very much pressed against one another as you two take each other in.

"Katsuki, fuck-"

"You're close aren't you, pretty girl?" He hums and you nod your head in confirmation. He barely reacts when your nails press into his skin, his eyes scanning the way your body reacts to his movements and how unabashedly expressive you were. So many other women were always focused on how pretty they looked and wanted to be prettier and more memorable than the last the young man encountered. You seemed so natural and into it and he greatly admired it. His crush that he has developed on you for some time now was growing for sure and it was all by chance that it was panning out like this. At this point he didn't care if you were using him to get your rocks off, he wanted to see you like this more often.

With bliss written across your face, your orgasm washes over you in an artful visual. Bakugo had grown to love all your expressions and this one by far might be his favorite. Your brows were scrunched as you released, eyes closed and your mouth shaped like an "O". When you opened back up your eyes to look at him, he knew what you were asking for. Bakugo softly sweet-talks you as you come down, his fingers slowing to a stop before pulling from your pants to lick his fingers.

You're a mess, a light pant to your breath as you watch him lick up your essence from his digits. You move to palm his hard-on, but his other hand immediately stops you.

"Fuck me, Katsuki." You mumbled against his lips, the look in your eyes showing nothing but a lustful plea.

"Not yet, princess," Bakugo answers back in the same manner, his lips brushing against yours as a way to tease before pulling away. "Can't spoil you too much now, can I?" He gives you a look over and scoffs at your dumbfounded seemingly fucked out state.

You call out his name as he washes up and leaves you behind in the bathroom.

You sit on the counter and stare at the door in shock. Your body felt like it was on fire. Your panties were now soaked and to add fuel to the fire you were left horny as fuck.

You slump against the corner and roll your eyes in exasperation. You no longer wanted to go back out and the pull to get another drink quickly died once you found yourself getting drunk on lust from what just occurred. You press your thighs together and groan at how Bakugo successfully blue-balled you both. You knew he was hard as fuck too the way his dick pressed against your thigh confirmed it.

You tilt your head to the side to observe yourself and have to admit you look a hot mess. Your eyes are half-lidded, you weren't sure how but your hair was a mess and now your once clear neck is now adorned in marks from Bakugo's rough kisses. You look away from the mirror and begrudgingly hop off the counter, the need to go home and take a shower finally reaching its way to your nervous system.

You

hey girlie, I'm heading out for the night. thanks for hanging out with me! 🫶🏽

[->] Sent 1:24 A.M.

You make sure to text Mina to avoid any miscommunication of you randomly disappearing during the night. You took your time to gather yourself not wanting to leave until you were ready. Once you leave the bathroom, you make a beeline towards the terrace needing to grab your things before having to leave in a cab for home.

"Leaving already?" A male's voice behind you makes you turn around.

"Ah, Sero," You smile apologetically as you properly face him. "I just… I'm not feeling well all of a sudden…" It was a shit lie and you knew it. You couldn't think of a better excuse but it wasn't a complete lie either. After your encounter with Bakugo, you needed to spend the night preferably alone.

Sero nods his head and gives you a warm smile. "I get it. Could I uh… get your phone maybe? Only if you're comfortable."

"Oh!" You light up and nod your head. "Yeah, of course."

After searching his pockets, Sero pulls out his phone and hands it to you. You quickly type in your number right before getting the notification on your own device that your ride is ready.

"It was nice meeting you, Sero." You lean up to kiss him on the cheek, leaving not too long after. It was a bit hard moving through the crowd but you were able to leave, and hopefully, you would be able to go home without any trouble tonight.

But what you didn't know was some people were paying attention and saw that whole exchange.

Quite a few, actually.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha x black!reader #mha x black!reader #bnha x poc!reader #mha x poc!reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #pro hero! bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #n/sfw #sav's saucin'

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pennyellee · 8 months

Text

CHAPTER IV - ustulation

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, blood, incision wound, fictive mafia clan traditions, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, threats, intimate encounter, kissing

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 5,6K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER V

ustulation (n.) a burning lust

In the hidden embrace of a secluded mountain valley, a village of hanoks stirred to life on a tranquil winter's morning. The air was crisp, a symphony of silence. The Song of the Dead toned down for some time.

The dawn’s gentle light bathed the valley, wisps of mist from the frost-kissed earth, adding an ethereal veil to the scenery she watched carefully from the closed window.

The majestic mountains, ancient pines and stoic rocks stood as sentinels of the valley's serenity. She could see them from this side of the house. Y/N sighed, holding a cup of tea in her two small hands, warming herself up on this chilly morning.

“Is something bothering you, my love?”

Yoongi had tried his hardest the past month to get under her skin. There were times when he thought perhaps, she would welcome him into her heart one day. However, her repeated escape attempts made him think otherwise. He was giving her the space she needed with carefulness in every action he took. The young leader knew well that she wouldn't be able to escape while they resided here, in the core of the village. That did not stop her though.

As if nature herself wished to bestow a gift upon him, the first snowflakes began to descend from the heavens just as they were returning from that unfortunate, eventful day in Seoul. The snowflakes floated gently, even now, like fragile dreams.

“Are you feeling well? You spent a lot of time in the snow yesterday.” He murmured after she didn’t grant him an answer to his previous question. They had to postpone the wedding as the snow and frost reigned, making it unsafe to pass through the tunnels. The passage was being cleared by workers for more than a week now. Time seemed to stand still as they absorbed the grace that enveloped their world.

“I feel fine,” she muttered back, not even looking his way at the table.

“I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He asked, demanding to speak to her.

“After all the stunts you pulled, you’re still free to roam around without anyone guarding you. Not speaking of the fact that I’m letting you sleep alone—” he was going on rumble.

The young leader is patient, but he longed for her more than ever. The fact that they’re still not newlyweds, and he cannot show love to every inch of her body, make her swell with his child, was frustrating him beyond repair. She had let her guard down once and allowed him to take the chance and kiss her on the cheek, startling her yet again.

“—you’re so blinded,” she said suddenly, turning back to face him.

“Excuse me?” said he, very surprised.

“You go on about how you’re good to me, how this is God’s doing, and that I should be grateful—” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated by his demanding nature.

While the leader thought he was granting her the time she needed, Y/N felt more and more anxious every day. Her heart is still itching to be free, yet she cannot stop thinking about what her selfishness would cause if she indeed managed to escape.

“Well maybe if you didn’t run every time, I tried to show you affection, I wouldn't have to remind you of all this.” He spat angrily, smashing the chopsticks on the table, standing up.

“I’m patient—” said he, getting closer to her standing form by the large windows. “—but I swear to God, you’ll disobey me again, and that’s where my hospitality ends, Y/N.”

“I just—” she stammered, making him stop in his attempt to close the distance between them. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. Y/N didn’t know why these words came out of her, nor why there were tears. All she felt was exhaustion.

The scarred leader’s expression softened. Is she finally confiding herself to him, opening up?

“My love…” He approached her, taking the cup from her shaking hands, putting it aside and lastly taking her face into his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away.

“I can make you happy. You just have to let me in.” He whispered, moving his face closer to hers. Y/N knows they will cross the boundary sooner or later. The winter is making it impossible for her to both run away and survive. Should Y/N listen to her mother’s words and let him make her his queen? The older female’s proclamation circled her mind at night while listening to the cracking of wood in the fireplace.

“Please let me in, dove.” He pleaded again, his eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

And once she nodded her head in approval, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips softly against hers. Time stood still, and the world around them faded into a blur of insignificance. Their hearts pounded in sync for a brief moment. She felt a warmth she couldn't admit, even to herself. Y/N wanted to hate him so much. Despite her inner conflict, she could sense the unspoken longings from his side, his desire to deepen the kiss carefully without overwhelming her. He wished to never let her go and feared that she would vanish in his hold. His lips were tender and tentative, like the brush of a butterfly's wings upon a fragile petal. Y/N knows he is holding himself back. The kiss was addictive, momentarily lifting the burden from her chest.

As he went to slide his hands on the swell of her heart-shaped bottom, a sudden cough interrupted the intimate moment. Y/N quickly pulled away, feeling shame and embarrassment wash over her caused by the sudden intrusion. She stole a single glance at the man standing by the door, grinning mischievously. Her cheeks turned crimson as she felt shy and exposed, but the young leader kept holding her in his embrace, not letting her go so soon after their first shared kiss.

Smiling like a teenager, he said: “What’s going on Hoseok-shi.” Y/N could imagine he is smiling widely as she had observed when she apologised to him for hitting his head with the stone. He waved it off quickly stating ‘I would be a fool to not forgive my new sister.’ She pretended not to be affected by his words, but it made the man she was to marry smile even more mischievously.

“I need to speak to you, and Y/N should get ready for Hyung’s wedding,” Hoseok said, his eyes gleaming with some secret knowledge.

Y/N exchanged a puzzled glance with Hoseok before nodding and extracting herself from the young leader's embrace, her cheeks still flushed from the kiss. Uncertainty hung in the air as Yoongi let Y/N go and walk away, admiring her graceful figure.

“What?” Yoongi asked, turning his attention to his trusted friend, who wore a smirk that hinted at hidden amusement.

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still smiling under his nose.

“Shall we?” Yoongi said, collecting himself and walking towards his brother.

“You won’t fancy what news I bring, brother.”

Silk banners fluttered in the breeze, announcing the joyous union to all who ventured near. The bride, a vision of grace and elegance, is adorned in a hanbok of flowing silk and intricate embroidery.

The groom, dressed in the timeless attire of a traditional hanbok, stood tall and resolute. His eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his beloved, as though she embodied the very essence of his being — a force that fuelled his heart.

Amidst the enchanting spectacle of celebration, the weight of tradition resonated with each uttered word.

The outside picture portrayed the unbreakable bonds of family and the beauty of two souls finding solace in one another. Y/N, however, couldn’t help but have a feeling that the poor girl the doctor was marrying did not find herself at the altar because of true love but fearful coercion. It reminded her of her circumstances — a pawn in a larger scheme.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the snow-covered land, Y/N sat beside her to-be husband, observing his unusual joy. Accordingly. Today, one of his brothers was finally taking a wife and his bride in a momentary vulnerability that had allowed him to share a tender kiss with her, amplifying his joy to an even greater extent.

Her ears perked up once she heard the celebration of the union before her. She couldn't resist side-eyeing the other brothers she had encountered over the past month, and her gaze locked with Kim Namjoon, Kkangpae’s right-hand man.

Y/N remembers Kim Namjoon. His piercing, cold gaze bore into her soul, especially so during one of her escape attempts, when he forcefully brought her back to the main house, reprimanding her for disobedience.

‘I can either give up my life to save you or I can be your enemy Y/N.’ Namjoon had warned her on a night when she sought solace near the fireplace in Yoongi's office, wrapped in blankets to warm herself even more. She was rarely allowed in this sacred room unless her actions demanded attention.

That night, Yoongi was dealing with business matters. He came back to the main house to her shivering and crying form. It is breaking his heart every time he sees her in such a state but simultaneously, he wishes she would cross the border of submissiveness and obey him.

Y/N ignored his warning just yesterday when she attempted to run away again. Hence, the gaze. If she was afraid of his next steps, she wouldn’t let him decipher that.

She snapped out of her mind as Yoongi rose from his seat, taking her hand to help her up. Y/N looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. He gently nudged her behind him, positioning himself as a protective shield. She looked around her, seeing that everyone else was still seated. Their looks show emotions —excitement, joy, and pride.

Her confusion heightened when Yoongi began unbuttoning her fur coat that was hiding her long red qipao, and panic swelled within her.

"What are you doing?!” She whispered in distress.

“Behave.” He whispered back to her, leaving the coat open revealing her breasts and tummy.

Leaving her standing close to him, he held her hand tightly, as if afraid she might flee at any moment. Y/N noticed that Namjoon's attention had shifted to Seokjin's new bride. The bride's trembling form approached them, and Y/N observed the gleaming knife in Seokjin's hand, quickly realizing what was about to happen.

It whispered promises of power, of secrets that could be revealed with a single stroke, but it also carried the weight of consequences and a toll on the bearer's conscience. As the girl's hand was carefully sliced with the knife, Y/N couldn't help but empathize with her pain. Her father had a similar tradition; however, women weren’t involved; she was still left in the dark about her role in all this.

The girl then knelt, extending her bloodied hand toward the leader, reciting her pledge of loyalty to Kkangpae Min. Yoongi covered her hand with his other one, acknowledging her devotion and signaling for her to continue with the moving tradition.

The leader then used his left hand to guide Y/N forward, leaving her yet again puzzled and bewildered. A moment later, she gasped with shock as she felt the girl's bloodied hand touch her lower belly. Yoongi held her firmly in place, preventing any instinctual step back.

"I, with my blood, pledge my loyalty to you, Min Buin. Blessed be the fruit of your future legacy, Kkangpae Min," the girl recited, her words carrying both reverence and a touch of melancholy. The significance of the moment and the responsibility it bestowed upon Y/N left her grappling with a maelstrom of emotions.

“Well you handled that well,” a voice came from behind her, and Y/N turned to find Namjoon standing there, watching her by the fireplace in Yoongi's office. She had been curious when he would approach her, knowing that Yoongi had gone to check if the tunnels were passable.

Y/N couldn't quite discern the tone of Namjoon's remark—whether it held irony or genuine praise. Such was the enigmatic nature of this man.

“I suppose,” she muttered, hugging herself for comfort.

“I personally thought you’d slap her hand off. Such an act would undoubtedly stir up trouble,” said he as he settled down in one of the armchairs.

Her mind replayed the events of the pledge, and she confessed truthfully, “I was too shocked to do so.” The new bride's pledge of loyalty to her and her empty womb had caught her off guard, leaving her uneasy.

“Your father is not demanding newcomers to pledge loyalty?” He asked, curious about their inner circle practices. She smirked, sensing his attempt to pry.

“Yes, but not to my mother,” she revealed.

“You hold an important position within our ranks,” the right-hand man noted. “And that, my dear, is why we are having this little conversation.” Y/N looked up, finding him extending a glass filled with what she presumed to be rice wine or soju.

“I genuinely want to be your friend Y/N—” he said while passing the glass to her. “But you’re very hard to please, princess,” he exclaimed.

“By ‘wanting to be my friend’, you mean the part when you threaten me again,” she retorted with a scoff, alluding to his past warnings.

“That is a necessary evil,” he conceded. “But on a serious note, Y/N,” he drew closer, taking a seat slightly further away to grant her personal space, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” she asked, feeling dumbfounded by his question.

"Is life here truly so terrible that all you can think of is escape?" he sighed, genuinely curious about her state of mind.

“Not all I can think of—” she began, trying to defend herself.

"Oh, so you did not attempt to escape just a day ago, and two days before that, and so on," he interjected, pointing out her recent attempts.

“What do you want to hear from me Namjoon?” she countered, feeling the pressure of his questioning.

“Hoseok hyung overheard your conversation,” he finally gave away the one piece of information he sought to address “What are you afraid of?”

Y/N gazed into the dancing flames, his words echoing in her mind. Memories of the recent kiss with Yoongi and the ensuing events flooded her thoughts. She felt her spirit on the brink of collapse, her attempts to escape repeatedly thwarted, causing harm to others in the process. Y/N was exhausted.

“I suppose I expected my life to take a different trajectory than this,” she admitted, reflecting on her circumstances.

“I can assure you that this will be the best that ever happened to you—” Namjoon insisted, trying to be reassuring.

“And that, Namjoon, is where my disbelief lies,” she interrupted him, peering straight into his eyes. He sighed, running a hand across his face, expressing a sense of frustration mixed with genuine concern.

“You didn’t give it a chance!” He raised his voice, unable to hide his emotions. He wanted this clan to function as it did for countless years and what’s more, he wanted his hyung to be happy.

“I’m going to ask you once again, and I want the truth,” he implored, trying to get to the heart of the matter. “What are you so scared of?”

Y/N decided to remain silent, knowing that her response would likely incite further frustration from him. "Is it sex?" he suddenly asked, shocking her with his explicitness. "Are you scared to be punished for your sins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she returned his rage, denying his accusation.

“Am I?” he continued probing.

“Yes, Namjoon! You are! You think I’m this shallow?!” she lashed out.

“No, but all you let us see is the shallow version of you. Apart from this morning,” he declared, referring to a rare moment of vulnerability she had shown.

“And it wasn’t meant for anybody to hear nor see that,” she snapped back at him.

“I understand your reasoning, Y/N. But we’re your family now, you don’t have to shield yourself against us,” he pleaded, hoping to break down her walls.

“He loves you, Y/N,” Namjoon continued, trying to make her see the sincerity in Yoongi's feelings.

“That’s very hard to believe too.” She remarked, still sceptical, looking right through his eyes. He took a deep breath, lifting his hand to touch his face.

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he proposed, catching her by surprise and piquing her interest.

“About?” She asked, curiously.

“Give it a year,” said the right-hand man. By making a deal with her, he is going behind the back of his leader and, even more importantly — his dearest friend. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to do this for him.

"If you're still 'scared' of whatever you say you are, and this is not the life you'll be comfortable living, I'll personally see to it that you'll be transported to America," he promised, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“What is the catch?” Y/N wasn't naive. She knew there must be some ulterior motive.

"You'll stop being a flight risk. If you attempt to run again, the deal is off, and I will personally eliminate each person foolish enough to aid you since your arrival—one by one, ending with your cousin," he stated, laying out the condition.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she absorbed his chilling words. Her mind raced as she contemplated her choices. "That's the only condition?" she asked, ensuring she understood the terms before giving her answer.

"Well, naturally, I expect you to genuinely give it a chance, meaning that you will accept Hyung as your husband, leader, and lover," he emphasized the last noun, urging her to take his words seriously. Y/N stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts together.

“This is a one time offer Y/N. I won’t be this generous again,” he added. She struggled to read him, but she couldn’t. Namjoon was well known for being unpredictable — a quality that made him a perfect fit as the right-hand man. No one could ever say with certainty what his next move would be.

“Fine,” she finally relented, her voice barely a whisper. Namjoon extended his hand, sealing the deal with a firm shake. He leaned in closer to Y/N.

“I trust that you’ll be on your best behaviour from now on.” He whispered to her. There were so many emotions in her eyes right now that she was working hard to process. She barely nodded and averted her gaze down. Y/N couldn’t bear to look into his intimidating eyes no more.

“Very well,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on her. “The tunnels have been cleared, and the wedding will take place this week." He told her.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the impending wedding. She was praying that perhaps she has more time to think of what to do with her situation. According to Seokjin, who came to visit and spent some time on occasion with her when his leader could not, the tunnels wouldn’t be cleared out until the end of December, giving her another month in total.

“Brother!” exclaimed Namjoon suddenly, breaking her train of thought. Y/N followed his gaze to the sliding door, where Yoongi stood, undoing the cufflinks of his shirt, the suit jacket already gone. "I was just telling Y/N the good news," Namjoon smiled at him.

Throughout this month, Y/N observed the strong brotherhood among Yoongi's most trusted and closest men. The deepest connection Yoongi shared was undoubtedly with Namjoon, which explained why he was the right-hand man.

Yoongi displayed a particularly protective nature towards his younger brothers. She had yet to meet Jungkook, the youngest, who had been recently assigned as captain of the front unit, as she overheard. On the other hand, Jimin was more involved in the open, managing the front business and whatever lay beneath it. The Chosen Hotel was highly popular among Koreans but was eagerly open to international guests too. Y/N suspected that the true core of the business was settled elsewhere, and she was eager to uncover it.

Seokjin, recently married, primarily served as the inner family's doctor. However, the Min clan also faced a shortage of actual medical staff like, so he had to run between the sanctuary, as she had learnt this place was called, and a front hospital.

Taehyung remained a mystery to her, despite seeing him in family pictures and hearing Yoongi mention him occasionally. He was supposed to represent the law in Yoongi's business dealings, ensuring the safety and legitimacy of their operations, including the handling of illegal earnings. Therefore, Taehyung is the safety pin of this organization. Whomever fucks up, he is there to defend them.

And lastly, Hoseok, a surprising contrast of joy and darkness. Y/N was taken aback that such a buoyant personality could be involved in such sinister activities. He was the arsonist who also took care of assassinations. Additionally, the clan engaged in money laundering, and Hoseok was responsible for collecting debts, often involuntarily.

Her eyes swelled with tears she was refusing to let out. Yoongi’s eyes met Y/N's, and she could see a mixture of concern and worry flicker across his face. A silent understanding passed between them, and they knew that they would need to have a private conversation later.

“Well, it seems you two need more privacy,” said Namjoon while he was collecting himself from the cushion he was sitting on.

“Did Tae call?” Yoongi asked before Namjoon could leave. “He did before Hyung’s wedding, to send his good wishes and—” he gazed over to Y/N who was carefully listening to their conversation, hanging on every word.

“—and?” Yoongi asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, a sight she had seen far too often for her liking. He was not shy with her; he could easily undress before her without a second thought. His attempts to walk in on her while she was changing didn't go unnoticed either, though she made sure to show her displeasure by throwing vases at him to keep him out.

Only now did Y/N remember the glass of alcoholic beverage that Namjoon had offered her, remaining untouched in her hands. She decided to take a sip, trying to ease her nerves before the conversation she was dreading.

“—and everything went well, as expected,” said Namjoon observing her as she downed the burning soju.

“Send telegraph to Wang and other families. We’re leaving for Chosen in two hours.” Y/N straightened herself, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“W-what do you mean in two hours?” She stammered. It was just past eight when she gazed at the clock on the wall. That would mean they'd depart at ten and arrive in Seoul around midnight.

"—I thought they just cleared the way. Why are we—" Yoongi cut her off abruptly. "I am waiting no more," he said firmly, locking his gaze with hers, leaving her in shock once again.

"On your way, please inform the maids to pack, and I want the cabin ready," Yoongi instructed Namjoon, who memorised every task with a sense of responsibility, seemingly disregarding Y/N's shattered spirit in the wake of this sudden rush.

“Can we at least talk about it?!” she raised her voice, causing the two men to stop in their tracks. They exchanged knowing looks, making it clear that this was non-negotiable. Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting his cheeks from inside, then turned to face his fiancée with a deceptive sweetness in his tone.

"Of course, my love," he said.

He nodded to Namjoon, who immediately took off, glancing at Y/N with a silent reminder to behave.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly normal scenario.

“I don’t know, do you think this is right?” Y/N kept her tone tense, signalling her discontent.

“Nothing is more right than this,” he answered, pouring himself a drink while taking her empty glass and refilling it with soju.

"Yoongi—" she began to protest, but he didn't let her speak further, having heard her excuses countless times.

“No Y/N. I’m not negotiating this time. We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon and that’s final,” he stated sternly.

"You could at least wait a day! Do you think everyone will just jump because you said it's happening right now? And more importantly, let me mentally prepare for it?!” Her frustration grew, and she gestured wildly, almost knocking over the refilled glass that Yoongi handed her.

“They are already in town. The telegraph is just a confirmation that it will happen tomorrow.” Her distress and panic were understandable; she had believed she had more time than a few hours.

“And you didn’t think of telling me first?!” she raised her voice even higher. That she was in distress and panic was very understandable. Y/N thought she had more time than a few hours.

“No, because you were finally letting me in—” said he, downing the contents of his glass in one go.

“You knew this would happen for a month, and you would have had more time to prepare yourself if running away fifteen hundred times a day wouldn’t be on your mind,” he fired back, raising his voice at her, and immediately asserting dominance.

"I'm getting very tired of this. One step forward and ten million miles back, damn it!" he cursed, slamming the glass down on his desk in frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking as she realized that her hopes of a slower pace for their relationship had been shattered.

“I have a very easy solution to that—” she said, raising herself to stand up to him.

“—Let me go,” she emphasized every single word, her frustration boiling over, and momentarily forgetting about her deal with Namjoon.

Her emotions were running high, and she went to pull the ring off to prove her point, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand, stopping her in her tracks. Anger filled his eyes as he crossed his other hand, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and crashed his lips onto hers, pressing their bodies against the nearest wall. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath as he passionately bruised her lips.

He let go of her hand once he was sure she wouldn't resist. With his now free hand, he lifted her leg, wrapping it around his waist, squeezing her ass cheek, making her yelp and by that creating an opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. Y/N had no idea how long their intimate encounter lasted, but she could feel her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Just as she managed to stop his other hand from slipping under her dress, aiming for her pulsing heat, he parted from her, both of them breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he apologised, his eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. Y/N was taken aback, her head still spinning, and she couldn't think straight. He had such a powerful effect on her, and this aspect of life was entirely new to her, having been kept away from such experiences.

"I wish, —" he started, nibbling at her lower lip while he continued to speak, "—you would acknowledge my love for you." Yoongi kissed her again, not giving her a chance to recover or speak up, moaning softly into her lips.

"We are too close. I will never give you up.” he declared, wiping her tears away gently.

“I can’t have you running though—” he leaned into lavish attention on her neck, placing butterfly kisses up to her jaw and stopping at her lips again—

"I'll overlook this lapse of senses if you keep up this good behaviour, my love, but the next time you disobey me, I won't only discipline you; someone will lose their head.”

She trembled against him, feeling lost, scared, and vulnerable. Her breath hitched as she tried to speak up. Yoongi was beyond himself for getting her into this state where she didn’t dare to oppose his words and stopped fighting him. If she won’t let him in willingly, he will force her to open up to him.

“I told you to not take that ring off your finger ever again.” She remembers the words he uttered to her in the garden where he proposed to her. That she agreed still feels surreal to her. Running got her nowhere, but she still had a selfish feeling inside her that he was bluffing and wouldn’t dare to seriously hurt anybody.

“Now be a good girl and apologise for disobeying me.” He tightened his grip at her waist, finally staring right into her teary eyes. Y/N felt lost, scared and vulnerable. Her lips were trembling, and her breath hitched again once she opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, just say it.” He cooed, lifting his hand to caress her cheek gently.

“I-I am sorry,” she finally sobbed. If there was one thing the scarred boy excelled at, it was getting his way. He smiled at her, pleased with her response.

He smiled at her. “That’s more like it, baby.”

Y/N longed to curl up in her small apartment, where she resided while studying at college. She desperately wished she could turn back time.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, looking for any sign of curiosity from her. Yoongi stepped away to his desk, leaving her pressed against the wall, hesitant to move an inch. He opened one of his drawers and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn't make out the handwriting, but her eyes widened as she recognised it.

“Your aunt entrusted me with this letter when we came to the conclusion that you should be mine one day,” he said, holding the envelope in his hands. Y/N desperately wished that the answer and a solution to her fears would be contained in that envelope. She was mulling over the platform of this match-making her aunt orchestrated.

Wang Xiaoqing very much upheld the meaning of her name in the time she lived. Blessed with intelligence. And she was a fearless mafia wife who brought pride to her late husband. There are other intriguing things about Y/N’s beloved auntie. Xiaoqing is by far the only member in her large family tree that married for love. Y/N admired her aunt and, perhaps, seeing that it was possible to marry for love, made her blindly believe she could also have the freedom to choose her partner.

She dreamt of a little house in the woods, not far from a lake or a small town. Growing some goods in the garden, by night sitting near the fireplace, the love of her life holding her. She would work in a nearby hospital, or study overseas to become a doctor were all part of her fever dream. She knew it was unlikely to come true, given her family's ties to the syndicate.

But she could least dream about it. For a moment, when she was on the ferry to Jeju Island, she thought she would make it. Y/N knew the risk she was taking once she entrusted her well-being to Chan-yeol. She knew his role was insignificant and not a threat to any syndicate and it wouldn’t certainly attract Yakuza, but she was also aware that he could have been the only one to send her to the far land. She believed that God chose this path for her instead of being an arm jewel to some Yakuza brute.

Reality snapped her back from her swirling thoughts as he put the envelope back in the drawer.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, taking a step forward.

“I will give it to you—” he promised “and tell you everything you want to know—” locking the drawer with a key.

“—After you’ll walk the aisle to me, without any of your misfits,” he finished his sentence.

"To strengthen your cooperation for tomorrow, I'm having your cousin and her husband at gunpoint during the ceremony," he added, making her scream in protest.

"I won't do anything stupid," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just let them be, please. They have little son, Yoongi.”

“I know, that’s why they are the perfect bargain to make you obedient. If this doesn't work, you still have other family members—," Y/N couldn't bear it any longer; she closed the distance between them, standing just inches away from him.

“If you would love me—” she started but before she could finish, he grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his torso and lower body. He bowed down next to her ear.

“I’ll stop this necessary coercion when you’ll learn your place, my love.”

Yoongi loved making her squirm and overwhelm her. He was basking in the effect he had on her. The fact that she will be his wife in less than twelve hours was a source of satisfaction for him.

“You were my woman for a long time now, and you will be my woman till death do us apart.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“—And you’re certain that the man is on his way to Seoul.” The leader inquired of his trusted friend and partner, seated in the quiet confines of his home office.

“Yes,” Hoseok affirmed with a nod.

"Is there any additional information that I need to be aware of?” Yoongi's voice carried a hint of tension, his teeth gritted in anger.

"As of now, there's nothing more to report," the younger male replied, keeping the conversation concise.

“Do you want me to eliminate him?” Hoseok offered, waiting for his leader's command.

“Not just yet, I was hoping to have the pleasure myself.”

to be continued

author’s note: so here we are at chapter IV!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ They kissed and much moreee!!! We'll see what we'll happen next. I hereby promise to post the chapter sooner than the end of Semptember, or I hope so xD Tho I have some wips to write and if I'll finish some then I'll post something new too ♥

Massive shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss @secfir @btspurplesky @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin

402 notes · View notes

drivelikeiido · 1 year

Text

fallen for you

an impulsive matty admits his feelings for you

word count: 1.1k

warnings: just a lil bit of smoking and a lil bt of pining

notes: this is the first time i've written a fic in years so I'M SORRY, not my best by far but all the writing on here inspired me to try and write again <3 also i wanted to write some nervous matty because he needs humbled so here we go (i also wrote this first thing in the morning so even more apologies for my tired brain) oh! and the reader is in the support band for the 1975 because i'm self indulgent in my writing like that

The stars in the sky were all that occupied your mind as you sat outside the venue. The night was a peaceful calm, a refreshing contrast compared to the show your band had just performed on stage opening for the boys.

However the night's quiet is disrupted as the heavy backdoor to the venue opens from behind and Matty appears to join you, already in his suit and tie ready to go onstage, only if he knew what that look did to scramble your brain every night, it was almost annoying that someone could look so effortlessly good.

He sits down and pulls out his packet of cigarettes, inhaling deeply as he lights one up and gestures briefly to you if you want one, you silently raise your hand up in refusal, he’s enough for you right now, your legs side by side as you sit on the freezing steps. The brief contact is enough to warm your entire body.

You sit in comfortable silence for minutes, the only sounds are the slow burning of his cigarette and the tapping of his shoes on the dark ground. You appreciate him silently, wondering to yourself how you even got this opportunity and how messy it's become now that you've unfortunately grown to appreciate the frontman of the band you're touring with in a not so platonic way. Grown so accustomed to the silence and the whirling of your thoughts his sudden speech is almost startling, his confession even more so.

“I’m totally obsessed with you,”

“I've wanted to kiss you for ages you know,” he adds after a beat. The shock of his confession causes the breath to seem to leave your lungs but you manage to whisper out “and what’s stopping you?”

“Didn’t think you’d want me to” he states, still refusing to make eye contact and looking into the waves of smoke floating up into the air instead. Despite his steady voice you realise he's nervous and the thought alone is enough to make you smile. Seconds pass and the cold evening air no longer seems to faze you as you build up enough confidence to ask what you've wanted for months now.

“Do it. Kiss me. Please,” your voice barely loud enough, but he seems to hear.

Despite his nervousness he bites back the teasing comment waiting to spill from the tip of his tongue; that could wait for later, he’d been thinking of this moment for too long to screw it up, and the boys would never let him forget it if he did.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales one last cloud of grey smoke, the addictive smell that you’ve grown to associate with him fills your chest as he throws the butt to the ground. His rough hands move to cradle your face so gently as if he fears you could pop and dissolve through his fingers at any moment, as if he was scared you would change your mind or even if this was all a dream.

The kiss surprises you in its gentleness and as you move together you realise this is something you’ll never bore of, the feeling of needing his lips engraved into your skin is dizzying, a sentiment he seems to share as he leans further into the kiss, his hands cradling the sides of your face like lifelines.

When he pulls back, his brown eyes are twinkling brighter than the stars you're under and the purest smile you’ve ever seen him wear graces his lips as he fixes your hair and places any strand moved back to its rightful place. He steps back, takes your cold hand in his and squeezes, his voice low and affectionate when he says “Come see me after the show, yeah?” and with your nod he disappears back inside the venue, leaving your brain to catch up with what just happened.

You’re glad he’s gone inside so he can’t see the seemingly immovable blush that's taken permanent residence on your cheeks, you'd never hear the end of the teasing if he saw that. You stay in the cold of the evening for a little longer, the chill of the air circling you and helping to slow the beating of your heart, the memory of the smell of his smoke and aftershave and how it now seems to cling to your clothes still working to fluster you despite his absence.

As you head back into the halls of the venue you feel the need to confirm that the moment was real, and not just another cruel daydream after months on the road. You take out your phone and text him,

‘i’m obsessed with you too, for the record’

His reply is almost immediate,

‘i know, love’ .

“Cocky prick” you whisper to yourself, his proud reply so Matty it makes you giggle and works to calm any growing concerns you may have had. Shoving the phone into your back pocket you make your way to the greenroom with everyone else to wait while the boys perform, your heart beating that bit faster as the set gets nearer and nearer to the end, “Come see me after the show, yeah?” playing over and over in your head.

Once the show was over and most of the set taken down, your steps are embarrassingly quick as you walk to the back of the venue, once again to the boys' delegated smoking area, already smelling the intoxicating smoke that hung in the air that was undoubtedly coming from him. He turns as you round the corner, his lips raising into a smirk as he throws the burnt out butt to the ground, stamping it with his dress shoes. He waits for you to walk close to him, his eyes never once leaving yours before grabbing out at your shirt and pulling you flush to him, your arms moving to rest on his chest. Despite the chill in the air the heat between your bodies was enough to make your skin blush immediately. His eyes looked down at you mischievously as his fingers toy with your shirt absentmindedly behind your back.

“So you’re obsessed with me, huh?”

You huff out a laugh and look up to see that smug grin plastered over his beautiful face, his skin glowing and his curls a mess after his performance onstage.

“Don’t let it go to your head, we don’t need any more to feed your ego” you tease, poking at his forehead and watching as he momentarily closes his eyes at the motion.

His saccharine grin returns, “Too late for that darlin, you’ve confessed your undying obsession with me there’s no getting rid of me now”

You drop your head to his chest, subtly revelling in the affection as his arms wrap around you, enveloping you in comfort, making it impossible to ever imagine leaving them.

“You’re insufferable, you know that,” you laugh and despite your teasing he drops a kiss to your head,

“Yeah but I’m yours now, and that’s all that matters”

#AAAA GUYS I DID IT I WROTE A FIC #I HOPE IT'S OKAY I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN SO LONG #sorry it's so sweet i'm not an angsty gal #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fic #k!'s fics

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hrts4hanniehae · 4 months

Text

Take a Chance with me || eleven

*there are written parts

remember to comment/reblog

he was running. he had her tweet notifications on and the second he saw that, he had bolted out of his dorm.

"coups where are you going?"

"to her."

he ignored the cheers behind him as he scrambled for his keys. he begged that her address was still the same. he couldn't lose her again.

she felt stupid for being so quick to jump to hatred. hatred was easy. love was hard. like him, she chose the "easy" way out. so she sent that tweet. if he really did still want her, he would come. her address hadn't changed. it was her painful memory of how she lost him.

"please..."

the doorbell rang.

they stood face to face. this was the first time they had been that close since their breakup 3 years ago.

he's here... she drew in a sharp breath.

she's so pretty... just like how i remember her. he let out a lovesick sigh.

i won't lose him/her again

before either of them knew it, they were kissing. she was almost crying and he was holding her as if she was his last breath of air. for the first time in 3 years, they felt like they were home.

"do you... want to stay over?"

"do you want me to?"

"yes."

"okay then I will."

her apartment looked the same and yet different. the photos were new. there were trophies. there were awards. and yet one photo frame made his head spin and heart swell. their 1st anniversary photo. they had made that photo frame together and had mingyu take their photo. she kept that photo frame on her bedside table.

"I didn't move out. I could have. I was asked to. But I didn't."

"why?"

"I didn't want to lose my last traces of you."

"yn. yn I'm sorry."

"I know it wasn't your fault. but why didn't you... why didn't you come back to me, seungcheol?"

god he loved the way his name sounded from her lips.

"I thought. I thought you wouldn't want me back."

she laughed. god her laugh... he missed it so much.

"I guess we were both idiots, huh?"

"I guess so."

they lay side by side (hehe minghao) on her bed. it was uncomfortable, given that it was a single bed.

"do you... do you maybe want to..."

"?"

"do you want me to hold you?"

she froze. the answer was yes but she couldn't force the word out. she wanted him to hold her. so so badly. but why couldn't she answer him?

"forget it. that was a we-"

"yes. please hold me, seungcheol"

and so he did.

note to my taglist: please reblog and comment abt the chpt so i know that you're actually reading my stuff.

summary: 3 years after your breakup with seungcheol, you release an album to cope with your still-broken heart. you didn't expose his name but quickly, your fans and fans of svt begin to connect the dots to the past you wish you could relive. little did you know, the man you loved so desperately would begin to chase you back with the same desperation you so very much desired

inspired by: take a chance with me

pairing: idol!choi seungcheol × fem!idol!reader

genre: past relationship, fluff, angst, best friend!booseoksoon, smau, miscommunication, pining, 2nd chance

warnings: implied self harm/depression, hate comments, updates irregular but will finish because i cried when i thought abt this idea

started: 13.12.23

taglist: fill out the form in my pinned post to be added to the taglist (specify this smau in the pw section)

smau masterlist

smau socials

previous I next

tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester @belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @atinybitlonely @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03

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wolfpants · 10 months

Text

nightcall (drarry, 1058 words)

Thank you to @getawayfox for the amazing art for this little piece I wrote for kinkuary! Give her post some love here ❤️‍🔥 Rated: E / nsfw Tags: Unspeakable!Drarry, begging, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, FWB, colleagues to lovers, pining, light bdsm On a top secret Unspeakable misson, Harry calls Draco from a remote phone booth on the Isle of Skye. ao3 link here, or keep reading

❤️‍🔥🖤📞🏍🥀

“What are you looking at right now?”

“Castle ruins. The sea. The moon. Dark road.”

“Have you got somewhere to sleep?”

A pause.

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“Have you got somewhere to sleep?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got somewhere to sleep. Don’t worry.��

Draco’s breath crackles against Harry’s ear.

If Harry closes his eyes—shuts off the road, the barren hills, the moonlight sparkling against the shore—he can pretend Draco’s right here with him.

He can pretend Draco’s huffing gently into his ear, murmuring against his throat like he might if they were alone together in the same room.

“That’s all I do,” Draco whispers dryly. “Arsehole.”

They shouldn’t even be talking. It’s against code. They could lose their jobs.

The Ministry doesn't know how to tap Muggle telephone boxes, but Draco and Harry know better than to talk about work outside of Level Nine. So Harry doesn’t ask Draco if he’s still working on those files and old tomes he keeps under deadly protection magic in The Manor. He doesn’t ask if he stayed in the office all night again and forgot to eat dinner.

“Does my voice sound normal?” Draco asks when Harry doesn’t respond to the bait of his insult.

“Your voice has never sounded normal.”

Harry is curled over the telephone desk. He runs his finger over the edges of the BT directory. He pulls back the cover to read it.

THE PHONE BOOK: HIGHLANDS AND ISLANDS 2003/2004

Almost ten years out of date.

“Fuck you,” comes Draco’s predictably plummy-edged response.

“Fuck you,” Harry repeats, grinning. He shifts his weight from one hip to the other. His riding leathers, softened and moulded to his body like a second skin, crease and rasp gently. His helmet is by his feet, his bike outside on the gravel; headlight on, casting the winding road ahead in ghostly bleached light. Its engine gently purrs into the night, reminding him that they need to keep this catch up brief.

“No, really,” Draco says, dropping his voice back to a whisper. His breath puffs against the receiver.

“You’re smoking.” Harry leans against the glazed side of the box and drops his head back against the glass panes.

“I’m outside, no one’s going to die,” Draco murmurs.

Harry closes his eyes again and pictures Draco standing on the lawn in Wiltshire. Mobile phone to ear, screen glowing against his face, cheeks pink from the cold. Surrounded by shadowed hedges and sculpted water features, smoke pluming from his lips, creeping up towards the starry sky. His hair is pulled into a knot on the back of his head. Or perhaps it’s loose, and the breeze is moving it around the sharp slopes of his cheeks.

“You look sexy when you smoke. You sound great. I miss you,” Harry says in three steady beats.

Draco won’t return the words. He never does. But Harry knows he feels them.

That he misses them too. Whatever—they are.

Work partners. Friends. More than friends sometimes. Less than friends other times.

Another soft breath. “Are you alone?”

“I’m on the tip of Skye looking at the North Atlantic. I’m very alone. I can’t even remember the last time I saw a tree.”

“Then,” Draco huffs gently—an inhale, a sharp exhale, the sound of his shoes clicking against pavement. He’s walking through the hedge maze. “Fuck you.”

Harry licks his lips. “Yeah?” He cups himself over his leather trousers. Slides his thumb over the shifting head of his cock as it grows closer towards his hip.

Draco hums, deep and smooth. Harry tilts his hips up in a slow fuck against his fingers, heat spreading, sharp and singular, between his legs. “God I want you,” he rasps, closing his eyes. The flutter of pale hair. Draco’s lovely lips wrapping around the filter of his cigarette. The way he kisses, dirty and like he means it.

“You have to ask for it nicely first, Potter.” Another inhale. “You can’t just take what you want. Especially from me.”

Harry balances the phone between his shoulder and his ear and fumbles with the zip of his leathers. “Please,” he whispers.

Draco hums again, louder this time, almost a moan but not quite. “Tell me what you want."

“I want you to sit on my face,” Harry says on a breath. His leathers are open as far as the zip will let him. He rucks up the t-shirt he wears underneath, enough to get into the waistband of his pants. His cock is already poking out the top, tip wet and swollen. He stares blearily at the beam of light outside, at the empty hills and sparkling water, fingers teasing himself in a slow, deliberate stroke.

Draco inhales sharply. “What was that?”

“I want you to sit on my face—please.” Harry licks his lips, circling his thumb over the wet head of his prick. “Want you to ride my mouth, my tongue. Take what you want from me. God, I want that so badly.”

“You like being suffocated, don’t you, you sick pup,” Draco whispers.

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out. “P—please.”

“And your tongue always feels so damn good. Maybe if you eat me good enough I could ride your cock. Would you like that?”

Harry groans, already so close. His leathers squeak and crease, and his elbow knocks against the glass behind him as he strokes his length up and down, balls drawing up tight.

“You’d have to stay still, though."

“Yes,” Harry breathes, picturing it now, like the countless times Draco has held him down—by the chest, the arms, the neck, sometimes—while he bounces up and down on his cock until they both come, sweaty and breathless.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“I want to come.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t come riding you,” Draco whispers.

“Draco…”

“Maybe I’d climb off you after you’ve spilled deep inside me, and we could switch. Maybe I could fuck the come out of you again, because you’re a dirty, needy little sl—”

Harry comes with a sharp, bitten off cry.

It spills down his fingers, splashes onto his t-shirt.

Draco chuckles. Harry hears him light another cigarette. “Good boy,” he croons.

“Fuck you,” Harry says with a breathless laugh, his head spinning. He gazes at the night sky through the foggy pane of glass above his head.

“Soon,” Draco whispers.

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry drabble #kinkuary #wolfpants kinkuary '23 #draco/harry #harry/draco #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp fic #drarry art #drarry fanart

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soraviie · 1 year

Text

pining for you.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: sister of "you assume it's unrequited.txt" this one from the boys' POV; angst + light fluff

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ sorry for the shortness of Tae's piece, it just felt right to begin and end with those sentences

━ leave a comment or I’ll drown you in a tub of money. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!

KNJ | Frankly — irrationally and irrevocably — Kim Namjoon hates your guts.

Rude, conceited, disagreeable. An ill-mannered hamster of a person!

Kind, smart. Different.

Different.

Was that why it usually takes him two whole days to muster up enough courage to speak to you? Or was the situation as a whole something more base — he desired that certain someone because they utterly and unmistakably wanted nothing to do with him?

Be that as it may, he needed rules. Rules for his status, rules for his peace of mind. Rules for his rapidly deteriorating mood. Why continue to pursue a person who runs away from you? Who didn’t like you at all; not even a little bit? Logically it made absolutely no sense.

With a deep, exhausted groan, he lets his head fall against the overcrowded desk of his unlit studio.

“Follow the rules, Namjoon,” he breathes out, feeling the rush of warm air reflect from the wood underneath. “Follow the rules and you should be fine.”

There were only five of them. after all. He ought to manage.

Rule no. 5: don’t think too personally about anything they do.

People showed menial kindness every single day of their lives. These were just gestures, acknowledging nods of the bond created between a person and a society at large. If the corners of your lips quirked as he was telling a joke it wasn’t because you thought of him as incredibly funny but it was because you were humouring him yourself. Should you happen to leave a note on his schedule: “Jaehyun told Sae who told me you needed 17th free for family reasons. It’s been arranged. Happy visit!” then it only meant that you were good at your job. He didn’t dispute that. Though Namjoon suspects he’s not doing all that good of a work with this rule — every single time your shoulder brushes past his, as you quickly make your way to whatever destination called you next, his heart, unfailingly, unflinchingly, skips a beat.

Rule no.4: no intruding upon your life.

He’s not intruding. Offering to get coffee and a pastry is not intruding. You haven’t eaten! You always wait for the last minute and if anything this was for collective good! Should you faint and an ambulance would have to be called, work day comes to a grinding halt! So he was merely thinking of it as a team effort, that’s all!

“Yeah,” he thinks to himself with a tired sigh, holding the bag of two breads in his hand. One for him and you. “I don’t think I’m good at this rule, either.”

Rule no.3: no personal contact or affection.

Line upon line, he traces the bold black letters of the notes littered across his fridge. In some cases, the marker has soaked the paper to the point of tearing.

NO HOLDING HANDS! he reads as a reminder while brushing his teeth in the morning.

NO BUMPS ON THE SHOULDER! mocks the writing on his bathroom mirror as he spits the damn toothpaste out.

“No holding you in his embrace,” he softly whispers to himself, hearing you cry on the other side of the ajar door.

But maybe…!

His fingers freeze around the door knob and with a bated breath he waits.

But maybe…!

He proceeds to curl his palm into a fist, closing the door softly closed.

No maybe’s.

No holding you in his embrace.

Rule no.2: limit personal time spent together.

That you seemed to be taking care finely by yourself. It hasn’t escaped him — the mad scramble you threw yourself in whenever he appeared. Across the stage, across the hall, across a busied street. Didn’t matter what conditions and barriers stood before you, recklessly you threw yourself over them, all but fleeing away.

Did it hurt? Yes.

But was it for the best? Yes.

“Fuck what’s for the best,” he sulks to himself, angrily punching the keyboard of his computer.

However, because Namjoon's life was nothing but a puppet show and he was indeed the puppet that’s on the stage getting repeatedly thwacked by a bat, the harder he tried to stay away from you, the more he found himself in your presence.

Noticing you approaching from the other side of the hallway, nose buried into a file, he, guided by nothing but pure-minded intentions, decides to spare you the running away and bolts into what he presumed to be an empty cupboard. Moments later you walk into his chest and only then he notices your name plastered across the door.

He walked straight into an office.

But as bad as he is observing all those rules, as much as he often breaks them quite knowingly, it’s but a mere echo of how much he can’t observe rule no.1.

rule no.1: out of sight, out of mind

Out of sight perhaps but out of mind? He wouldn’t dream of it. In fact if he does dream then you’re it. Every song, every laughter of another pair, every line in a poem and brush stroke of a painting.

You, you, you.

Frankly — irrationally and irrevocably — Kim Namjoon hates your guts. And just like someone whom he doesn’t remember said, the thing he hated most about you was that he didn’t hate you at all.

MYG | "9,000,000₩...no, more like 10,000,000₩."

"What are you doing?"

Throwing a thoroughly accusing glare over the rim of his glasses, Jimin coolly replies:

"I'm calculating the sum of money you'll have to pay for your crimes."

"What crimes would those be?"

"Stalking," taking an overtly smarmy sip from his iced coffee pinky outstretched and all, Jimin observes tiredly groaning Yoongi.

"Not this again," he huffs irately. "How many times? I'm not stalking. We're just friends."

"Friends," Jimin snorts as though what Yoongi said was at least decently hilarious. "Friends, my ass."

"Well if that's how you treat them."

From the sour expression alone Yoongi gathers the sentiments that Jimin wanted to hurtle at him and truly he was far too drained to hear any of them.

"I'm off," curtly, he tosses over his shoulder, gathering up his coat. Jimin's eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

"Already?"

"It'll stick that way," Yoongi points a finger at the other man's befuddled expression before promptly shutting the doors behind. Perhaps he did hear the bellowed question — "are you really going to see that bartender again?" — but he did not regard it. So what if he did? Taehyung had tens if not dozens of friends and no one ever gave him a hard time because of it.

Walking through the familiar haphazard turns which spun his way towards you, the blinding light of apothecary suddenly reminds him. Right, the patches.

"Thank you! Come again soon!"

Politely, Yoongi nods at the young woman's words, reflexively pursing his lips into a pinched smile behind the black mask. Calmly and silently he walks the by now usual route to your bar, occasionally thumbing at the nicotine patches in the pocket of his coat. Quitting for him wasn't exactly easy or difficult per se — there was simply no incentive for him to care all that much. Sure, he knew it was bad for his health but...so? So what? However, now he's found a certain kind of joy in quitting, even if he wholeheartedly believes these patches were nothing but a frankly lazy cash grab. This is your thing with him. He gets to share something with you. Like a human to a human. When you smile he knows it's not because you have to, not because he's a paying patron but because you like him.

And Min Yoongi happens to very much like you too. By now it's redundant to hide away from the truth or be so conceited about the fact, he'd sit here like a fucking fool denying the reality. It's not quitting an unhealthy habit that has him escaping work more, that has his legs racing to get to trash bins of all the places in the world. Who could have known a dingy side alley would become a piece of deluded home?

And sure, you probably don't like him like that, certainly you won't once the truth of his identity will come out, as it always does, but he's fine with it, as long as he can still keep seeing you. Seeing you as just himself — without the pretense.

Plus he has plenty of chances to tease you about living under a rock.

When he finds you, you’re looking like a roadkill. Hair frazzled, hands wringing nervously as you pace — a sign of nicotine craving hitting bad. Your face is scrunched up in deep worry and wrinkles line your forehead with thorough dedication.

Min Yoongi couldn’t be any fonder.

Before he has the chance to roast you to hell and back, you notice him across the swirling shadows of the alleyway, throwing your hands into the air.

“I thought you would never show up! Gimme!”

You reach your grabby hands towards him and playfully, Yoongi scoffs.

“Wine and dine me first, heathen. A guy can be more than a piece of ass you know. I have….feelings.”

“You’re a demon on two legs and a good skincare,” irately, you hiss and for a second Yoongi does think you would just rip the coat off him in search for the damn patches. He wouldn't…

…necessarily mind.

Khem.

He peels the patch out from his pocket and smacks it right into the middle of your forehead. With a deeply exhausted groan, you slide down the wall.

“I hate bachelorettes,” the miserable cocoon whimpers.

Yes, Yoongi knew as much. This was strictly a piece of knowledge you probably should never know but the first time he came here a bachelorette was also taking place. Under normal circumstances he would make a hasty exit but the stream of inebriated, overjoyed women had blocked all his possible routes of escape so he had no choice but to dwell like a malicious goblin at the far side of the bar in the hopes that they won’t take that long. The seat that he’d been forced into was next to the doors to the staff room and it was here that he first saw you. Or rather he heard you. Cursing. With such colour and speed that two things flashed through his mind:

with some training you’d make a decent rapper

damn, that vocabulary has my ears getting red.

By the end of the night, he left you a big, big tip, stuffing the wads of cash into his emptied whiskey glass and hiding it behind the bar where only you could find it. Tossing one last glimpse over his shoulders, wading through the mass of party streamers and spare boa feathers, he saw your disheveled form. As tired as you were, you were holding onto the small girl — Sara was it? — patting her on the back like your own child, assuring you’d cover for her tomorrow so she could rest.

Good. Even then he could sense that you were good. And watching down upon you now, just as disheveled and tired but still inherently good, he was happy he’d raced to meet you out here on one of his prevalent uh…”people watching” activities that just so happened to center around this bar.

“STALKING!” Jimin’s voice unwittingly surges from the back of his head and he jolts in surprise of it.

You lift your pitiful gaze from the backs of your hands and observe him quietly.

“Is your shoulder okay?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Cause you strained it two days ago—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

WHY?! WHY WAS HE DOING WHAT HE WAS DOING?!?

Min Yoongi, have you lost your mind, he scolds himself, harshly pulling his hand away.

So he…he just caressed your cheek. That…was a thing that just happened.

You both remain awkwardly quiet.

“The nicotine craving is really getting to you, huh?” you chuckle thinly, voice falling far, far above the average tembre.

“Yeah, I’m overwhelmed,” dryly, he retorts, pushing the hand that touched your cheek deep into the pocket of his coat.

I’m not going to wash it, is his first thought. That’s fucking gross, is the second.

“Why is your face all red?” you inquire curiously.

“None of your business!”

KSJ | Because one inevitably lives in a society there are certain rules and roles one has to observe. Jin for the most part has managed to break out of the mold that was so surely set for him. Becoming an idol did inadvertently saddle him with some expectations of how he should act and in what words that act ought to be shrouded in but it didn’t change the fact that a son of a CEO, no matter how humble that company was, ran off one day and became an idol.

As long as the rules only involved himself he was quite ready to do what he pleased. But this was…different. His role didn’t just involve you, it was because of you.

He’d never seen his father so serious as he was on that day when he pulled Jin aside and somberly whispered.

“I’m not saying that the kid is bad,” you were already adult then. “But that family is no good, Jin. Just…it’d be better for both of you if you’d forget it, son.”

His throat had then been full with the beat of his heart. By that point the attraction he had for you was simmering in the back of his mind. He thought he’d concealed it fine enough, letting the curious surprise at how you turned out to be sit in the confines of his privacy but apparently not. His father had tossed him the last knowing glance and mingled back into the party, leaving Jin to stand in his corner confused and suddenly cold.

But if society was a peculiar thing, then a mind was even more so.

Because for some reason Jin’s mind decided to obsess over that one person on the earth who had the personality of a power tool.

“Two years of my life.”

“Yoongi, please, this isn’t about you,” Jin whimpers miserably, sound falling muffled as his face is pressed tightly against the bedcover. “Give me some sympathy!”

“I have none.”

Jin is not quite certain how he manages it but even Yoongi’s disembodied voice carries its frustration so clearly, he can almost see the man in front of his eyes.

“Because of you, for two years of my life I had to listen to how beautiful they are, how clever. “Did you know they graduated in the top 5 in their university?! Yoongi, top 5!” I even had to organize to send them flowers on graduation from a secret admirer because of that bullshit feud your family has with theirs.”

The last part he scoffs.

Jin scrambles up from the bed.

“Can we get to the most important part here?” he huffs, bringing the phone closer to his mouth.

“And what would that be?”

“Me!”

The roll of Yoongi’s eyes is almost audible.

“And what about you? So you kissed them and chickened out. What’s more to it?”

“wHAT’S MORE TO IT?!” Only barely Jin manages to pull in a meditative breath, in order to not project his left lung all the way back to Korea. “What’s more to it?!” he hisses. “I’m supposed to be a brotherly figure. At best! They’re younger than me—”

“They’re still an adult.”

“I’ve known them since we were kids!”

“Real meet-cute, what can I say?”

“It’s just-It’s just! It’s just not meant to be!”

“If it’s not meant to be, why did you kiss them at all?”

Jin doesn’t reply and after a moment he drops the call entirely, leaving Yoongi to ruefully sigh in his dark studio.

“I fucking hate slow burns,” he grumbles.

Rolling out of the bed, Jin dejectedly waddles through the door. It’s the middle of the night, safe to say everyone else was sleeping. Why did he kiss you, he ponders waddling to the kitchen, why indeed. A brotherly figure was definitely not supposed to do that, doesn’t matter if you were just a close friend of his cousin or not. But then why had you embraced him last summer?

As your hands came up to form circle around his waist and with your breath reeking heavily of alcohol and the pink boa slipping down one of your shoulders, dragging limply behind like a tail, why did you have to mutter into his chest how much you liked him? That he was guilty for the suffering he’d caused you? Previously Jin was quite content with pining you from afar, indulging in the idea of you rather than the real you which would bear consequences for both of you but with you clinging onto him he had glimpsed behind the veil and the veil refused to close.

At times, he became tempestuous, gaming angrily while casting furtive glances at the phone, weighing the options of giving you a call. Why shouldn’t he be with you? After all that he’s had to sacrifice and give up, his father should have no choice about the turns in his life!

But…he always weighed against it. The matter wasn’t just about him but it was about you as well and because of it…he’d rather not act. He’d follow the role he was set to act, dignified and polite, he would be what he should be and not give you any hard time.

That is until, just as dignified and polite, you cast yourself in an entirely different role — corner him one day at a beach, the last day of a vacation, and there atop of the cold sand with an ease and grace of a century passed, you kiss him, forever changing the meaning of the word “love”.

JH | Dacquoise? Or perhaps an opera cake? Both could potentially be too sweet. But dacquoise looked pretty, however, opera cake had chocolate and one couldn’t go wrong with chocolate…

“Shopping for your girlfriend, mister?” the girl by the counter asks sweetly and immediately Hoseok smiles behind the mask. Lately just the thought of you tugged at the corners of his lips with a heavy hand.

“No, it’s actually for my,” the smile flickers “Teacher.”

In the end, he leaves the shop with a sizable chunk of swiss roll.

Bad Hoseok, crazy Hoseok, dummy Hoseok, he curses himself, trailing despondently down the road. Who would be so moronic as to start crushing on his own tutor?

“Ah, really, you’ve lost your shit, brother,” he mutters underneath the nose, falling heavily against someone's apartment building, careful not to damage the swiss roll dangling in the crook of his elbow.

“Mr Jung?”

Hoseok disjoined himself from the wall with a sudden start. With your slippers dragging against the concrete, you jogged over, fretfully glimpsing around the half-emptied street.

“When you said you’d drop by for a visit, I thought you were joking.”

With feigned innocence, he swings on the balls of his feet, growing flustered underneath the weight of your disapproving glare.

He was not nearly as innocent as he pretended. Would an innocent man utilise your soft spot for him to be forgiven? Would he beg and grovel to be accepted as a student with the hopes of it…leading to more? Would an innocent man lay awake at deep night and dream of things that were decidedly not innocent? Would he think of you scolding him with a smile of content?

Without the shadow of a doubt, Hoseok would be glad if you slapped him, as long as you touched him in the end.

No, an innocent man would not even dare entertain such a sinful idea. You still believed he was innocent and shamefully, horribly, selfishly he used that.

What a horrible man he was.

“Eyyy, how could I not visit when my favourite tutor moves apartments?” gently, he shakes you by the shoulder. “Let’s eat cake!”

“But—!”

“Let’s go!”

No, an innocent man would not grasp your hand as an excuse.

“Not, this again,” you growl in between bites of the swiss roll. There is no furniture and as such you both have to sit on the floor, using bendy plastic forks as utensils.

“The view is nice. Seodaemun-gu is a better choice, for sure.”

“Mr Jung!”

“Hoseok, please!”

Nearly in tears from exasperation, you cry out:

“Hoseok, please.”

The grin from his face disappears entirely as he took in the fraught state of your eyes. Was he…being cruel to you somehow?

“I like you, I really do,” his heart makes an uncomfortable leap and even you seem to catch on to the choice of wording, swallowing nervously as you did. “A-as a student I mean but I still quit as a tutor, there’s no way—”

“Yes, there is,” calmly, he puts the fork down, inhaling a shuddery breath. The air smells of your perfume. He hadn’t yet thought of a way to ask the name for it without coming off as…creepy. “Private tutor. I pay you out of my own wallet. I’ve arranged with management that I’ll take all the official exams but without their oversight.”

Just me and you.

“Mr Jung—”

“Hoseok.”

“Hoseok—”

“I’ll pay you 3 million won per month.”

“Still—”

“A million per meeting.”

If feasible, there would be smoke coming out from your nostrils.

“Dear Hoseok,” your lips blossom into a wide smile and he shudders, falling abruptly silent. That smile meant he’s going to get kicked to the moon.

“Do you want to learn a good English phrase?”

“Of course, I do!"

“BRO, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME SPEAK!”

Even you yourself seemed to be somewhat taken by the outburst. Blushing slightly, you cough, adjusting a strand of unperturbed hair.

“What I mean is money is not the issue. I already got a job translating documents for a firm nearby but what I mean is…”

Eagerly, Hoseok waits.

“What you mean is?” he continues, the thrumming of his heart so loud, he fears you’d hear it.

You gnaw on your lip, gaze flickering wildly all over his face.

“What I mean is,” you struggle out. “I...I…”

“You…?”

“I don’t think I’m the best tutor for you.”

Like a bucket of ice cold water, the sentence washes over him and Hoseok suddenly realises how close he’d leaned into you. With an embarrassed cough of his own he regains the proper distance.

“Nonsense. Isn’t that for me to decide? As your student,” the word sits bitter on his tongue. “I ought to choose what method of teaching is best for me. And you’re the best for me. Am I not the best for you?”

So far from an innocent man.

Your gaze slowly averts away and the way he relishes its shyness is almost perverse.

“Nah, you’re the best,” quietly, you remark, biting on a piece of swiss roll.

PJM | Two girls at the front of the club line were enjoying their conversation. Jimin was also enjoying their conversation.

“There’s that person here tonight. Eun-Chae swears she saw them coming in.”

“The one who made those pretty earrings she had last month? Ahh, I’m so jealous!”

“Hmm. Rumour is they’re really underground but if you get an invite from someone who's already been their client, they take you on.”

“Oh, really? How did Eun-Chae get it then?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to say this…” the girl with the long hair trailed off and even Jimin trailing behind her to get into the club could hardly control the scoff that threatened to break out of him. Not supposed to say this. Did she not know that once those words were spoken any true gossiper would drink seas of blood to hear such a delicious piece of information.

“But!”

Ah, so she did have some mercy.

“But apparently she got an invite from an undisclosed member of Stray Kids.”

As they both squealed, Jimin parted ways with the two women, easily blending into the nightclub. The fact that an underground jeweller was here did not surprise him. This particular club attracted all sorts of creative scenes. He didn’t much care for it, really, that is until he saw you. Hunched over the vomit littered stairs with a pair of pliers in between your hands you were working on what seemed to be an intricate piece of necklace.

Surreptitiously, Jimin snuck closer, mostly because he’d come alone here tonight. Without friends it was boring as all hell. Watching you work soon proved to be incredibly fascinating. The way that the space between your eyebrows wrinkled, how precisely your eyes focused on each individual detail. How you were able to regain calm and professionalism even amidst the chaos of sweaty bodies and pounding bassline. You cradled these pieces with the same care people did their children…or pets. It truly was a fascinating sight that Jimin could relate to.

Fast forward some months forth, he now also realises that it’s the sight he’s utterly fallen in love with.

“You’re breathing on my neck.”

The grumpiness in your tone rouses him from the memory and Jimin finds himself firmly planted in the present. With his chin perched on the curve of your shoulder, he watches carefully as your lithe fingers string the small pearls one by one. He wonders how would they feel caressing his bare skin. Would they tickle? Would they be warm?

“Am I? My sincere apologies.”

“You lying, little—!”

He flicks the back of your head.

“Ey, no swearing.”

You glare back at him, the only luminescence in the room being the small desk lamp you used at your workstation. Though Jimin couldn’t be absolutely sure where the border between what he wanted and what was differed but he knew for certain, there was something behind the way your gaze flickered to his lips and remained there for a touch too long.

He ran a tongue over his lips.

“You want to kiss?"

Your hand reaches upwards, abandoning the pearls and Jimin’s knees grow weak. He has to brace himself harder against the desk but it’s wholly useless as his arms come up by your sides. He’s caging you in? Nonsense! You’re the cager.

You flick him harshly against the forehead.

“Rich man stops being a perv when crossing the threshold into my home. Rule 12.”

“So many rules…” Jimin sulks, cradling the now sore spot. “You’re such a control freak.”

“So what if I am?” you toss over the shoulder, bringing your attention back to the pearls. It was both of your decision that the layered pearls would be a statement piece for an upcoming photoshoot. That is another thing he loves about you. You never insist upon him wearing chains or dainty pieces, you go for the middle. That same middle that he liked.

“Masculine, feminine,” he remembers you scoffing harshly one night. “If I make it, it’s just jewelry above all.”

For now he decides to leave you alone. Even if you like him, he knows you wouldn’t hesitate to toss him out by the scruff. That was the third thing he loves about you. Third thousand that is. While you work, he gleefully immerses himself into observing your home. He tidies a book or a blanket here and there, mostly to occupy the time.

Lador shampoo. He spots one in the bathroom. Should he tell you that he saw you use it and now uses it himself just so that his hair would smell like yours and he’d have something to serve as a reminder of you when going away?

No…that’s a bit unhinged. He’d accidentally spilled that piece of information to Yoongi and the man had been a hair strand away from calling the police.

“It’s not that weird,” he pouts to himself. “At least I’m not a stalker.”

Well, he did get your address from that undisclosed member of Stray Kids…

Faint scratching against the window brings his gaze up from the shitty kitchen tiles to the even shittier window and its half broken blinds.

“Nori!” he greets the tabby cat warmly. “Are you hungry?”

“STOP CANOODLING MY CAT, PARK!” your yell shakes the air before he can even reach for the can of open tuna. “You’re allergic to fur. Get your ass back here!”

He doesn’t dare to not oblidge.

“Look at you, sitting all pretty,” you purr, clasping the necklace shut.

Smarmily, Jimin runs a hand through his hair.

“Why thank you.”

For a second, your face scrunches as it does when you’re thinking something deeply but then the creases smoothe out and you toss him a half-hearted glare.

“Obviously I meant the necklace.”

“Was it that obvious?”

You reach to flick his forehead once more but this time Jimin catches your hand. Though the sly smirk growing upon his face is wiped with a bold stroke as he feels the numerous cuts marring the skin.

Sternly, he inspects them, wrapping his fingers tighter around yours as you struggle to pull away.

“No one did this to you, did they?” his voice drops an octave and unbeknownst to him, your breath catches in the middle of the throat. Park Jimin — forever a mystery, an onion gradually unfolding his many sides.

“Of course, not,” with feigned ease you reply, trying to take your hand back. He does not let it. “It’s just…collateral damage.”

“Your body is not collateral damage.”

“They’re just hands, Jimin.”

“Not even one inch,” he concluded sternly, not a millimeter in his expression or lilt of his voice freeing up the space for a debate to unfold.

Your fingers are cold, he finds out. But that’s okay, he’ll warm them up for you.

KTH | House, also referred to as "playing house" or "play grown up", is a traditional children's game. It's a form of make believe where players take on the roles of a family.

Though what is happening now is set in reality, in a way, Taehyung is playing a form of make believe.

By now it’s been well observed. 15 minutes into a movie and you’re passed out. Not even a night of solid drinking could make a person this unconscious. The make believe in this situation wasn’t scheduling a hang out at his place, it wasn’t the fact that he’d offered to watch a movie while fully knowing of your tendency to fall asleep, it’s not even wrapping his hand around your shoulder and letting his head rest atop of yours. It’s the dreaming that was fake. The endless hope that one of these days he would do something, that you would do something. Every once in a while, he gets the feeling that you might like him. But it’s gone so soon, he inevitably ends up presuming it’s just in his head.

Wasn’t it?

The blue glow of the screen illuminates your features with an eerie glow and even as someone screams, being chainsawed in half, you don’t move an inch. Now, a boyfriend would lift you up and bring you to the bed, covering your form with a warm blanket and then sliding in. But boyfriends were allowed to do so. That, however, is the fine line where comes the end of his game of house. Some things are simply not allowed.

Gently, he shakes you awake and blinking blearily, you let a pitiful mumble of confusion.

“Tae?”

His heart clenches.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t you have to go home?”

In the deluded state that you’re in, you throw both arms around his neck and mumble sleepily into the crook of his neck:

“Don’t wanna. Let me crash here.”

To stab already his bleeding heart, you add:

“Please?”

How could he possibly say no to you?

Falling in love with your friend is technically not a crime but Taehyung thinks that it should be. It’s nothing short of criminal — the level of delusion he entertains whilst adjusting his shirt to sit lower on your body. He should be arrested for the gentleness and care he takes in helping you to measly finish your skincare routine. It is sinful that he has the gall to pretend that this is anything but a series of utterly selfish actions. He gets to play house. He gets to play your boyfriend. He gets to slide underneath the covers with you, laying an arm around your waist and watching you slumber, peaceful and at ease.

JJK | Jungkook's part has been upgraded to a oneshot! Read it here!

tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms;

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