#but always love to discuss this stuff and am open to questions!
Note
Could you just write like ANYTHING that’s Dominic x reader because there is a severe dom fic drought rn
𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒, dominic fike x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and your boyfriend get matching tattoos
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, sexual jokes
You and Dom had been discussing matching tattoos for months now. You loved the idea, but the only issue was that neither of you could agree on what tattoo to get. Well, that had been the case until earlier today, when your boyfriend finally compromised on getting a cherry stem with two cherries as your tattoo. Cherries were symbolic to your relationship; you had them on your first date, and since then they always reminded you of your relationship. Dominic liked the idea behind it, but he argued that the tattoo should be more corny and obvious. But after hours of reasoning and many puppy eyes later, Dominic just couldn’t say no, and had finally accepted defeat to those damn cherries.
"Dom, what am I supposed to wear to a tattoo appointment?" you asked, looking at yourself in the mirror, attempting to think of an outfit in your head. “Nothing at all if it was up to me," he deadpanned, scrolling mindlessly through his phone.
You rolled your eyes before turning to him. “Dominic, I'm being serious," you scolded, a wide smirk appearing on his face. “I am the most serious I've probably ever been." You groaned in response, walking into the closet in search of an outfit.
"Okay, how's this?" you asked. He looks up from his phone and eyes you up and down. "Perfect," he grins. No matter what outfit you put on, it was perfect to him, meaning he was zero help.
“You say it’s ‘perfect’ every time,” you sighed, knowing stuff like this riles him up. “What else do you want me to say?” he asks and you just walk over and plant a kiss to his forehead in response and he wipes it away jokingly.
You turnto face the mirror, having to trust your own opinion in this situation. "Is it too booby?" you ask yourself, caressing the top of your tank top.
The look on his face immediately tells you he’s thinking of another sly remark. "Nothing is ever too booby," you giggled and walked over to your dresser to grab your purse.
As you checked your phone, replying to the texts you missed while getting ready, you heard the sound of one of Dominic's notorious dramatic sighs. "What're you so loud for?" you teasingly question as you put on your earrings. You hear him get off the bed and walk over to you, gently placing his arms around your waist and nuzzling his head into the back of your neck.
"'Cause I'm bored," he mumbles into your neck, barely audible. "I've been watching Reddit confessions for like three hours." The buzz of his words on your neck send a chill down your spine.
"It's not my fault you were ready two hours ago," you joke, turning to face him, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Plus, you love those Reddit confessions,"
.
"Still set on those cherries?" he asks, pulling into the parking lot of the tattoo parlour. "Yes, one hundred percent set," you smacked your glossy lips together to emphasize your words.
You walk towards the building, hand in hand. "I'm nervous," you admit, squeezing his hand extra hard. “Why? You'll be okay and it’ll be a quick one,” Dominic replies and rubs your back for reassurance. "Plus you should be perfectly fine since you got to pick the tattoo." He turns to you a smirk plastered onto his face.
"I didn't pick it. We agreed on it," you emphasize, stepping into the parlour as Dominic holds the door open. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he says before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
"Hi, we're here for an appointment at four thirty," you smile at the lady at the counter. "Oh, yes! A couples tattoo, that’s fun!" She exclaims pulling out a clipboard and some pens for you to sign with
"Yeah, we've been talking about it for a while, and we were both free today, so we were like, why not?" you explained as Dominic signed the waiver. "What are you guys planning on getting?" she asks, as Dominic hands the clipboard to you.
"We're getting cherries," Dominic answers as you continued skimming through the waiver. "We had them for dessert on our first date." The woman’s face softens at Dominic's reasoning for the tattoo. "That is adorable," she grins.
“He said it was not corny enough,” you explain handing the clipboard back over to her, as Dominic sends you a playful glare. “Well for the record, I think it’s super corny” she replies.
You turned your head towards Dominic before mumbling, "Told you.”
“Okay, you’re all set! I'll have the chairs set up in a couple of minutes," she announces before walking off into the back.
The both of you take a seat, and you lay your head on his shoulder. "Dom?" you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear you. "Yes, my love?" he looks down at you, eyes wide and attentive, ready to listen to whatever you have to say.
"If you really don't want to get the cherries, we can do something else. I don't mind, I promise," You look up, immediately reading his face for a response.
He lets out the slightest chuckle. "Baby, if I really didn't want those cherries, I would've been on your ass about it,” he smiles, brushing his hands through your hair. "And plus, I'd get your face tatted on my forehead, so I have zero issues with some little cherries," he adds, causing you to chuckle.
"You're very corny, you know that?" you say after a few seconds of silence. "It's my specialty, really," he replies and places a kiss on your head.
A few minutes later the woman comes back out. "We're ready for you two!" She calls out and you stand up as he grabs your hand for support to get up, though he really doesn’t need it.
“Ready?" he asks from a few feet behind you. "Readier than ever!" you grin.
You decide to go first. Dominic sits beside you on the chair, holding your free hand, and squeezing it occasionally. You watch Dominic converse with the tattoo artist and can help but smile at him. A big, goofy smile that displayed nothing but love and commitment. And you think to yourself as the tattoo artists sanitizes your arm; what is committing if not getting a matching tattoo?
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🪽h speaks: guys i’m not very happy with this it was kind of rushed but i was eager to post something. i hope you enjoy and thank you so much for 300 followers!! love you guys :)
#dominic fike#dominic fike x reader#imagine#euphoria#fanfiction#euphoria fanfic#euphoria imagine#zendaya#dominic fike imagine#headcanon#sunburn#dominic fike tour#singer#writer#wattpad#euphoria edit
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“Age doesn’t matter.” 1
Dad!Bakugou x FBabysitter!Sensei!Reader
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16
The day that Katsuki married her, most of his friends kept advising him it was not a good idea, she was a walking red flag, and she only loves him for his wealth since being the second-ranked hero he is and holding his own agency, money isn't a problem to him.
Until he got her pregnant. After giving birth to his son, recuperating, and finally moving on her own again, she left him without any notice, not any letter. He just got home and frantically made his way to his wailing child in his crib. Katsuki immediately picked him up and made his way to the kitchen preparing his child a bottle for his formulated milk. As soon as he felt the milk was lukewarm, he tap the nipple of the bottle on his child’s lips and saw how his son starts sucking it.
That made Katsuki leave work for a month until he was able to ask for help. With the help of Mitsuki and Masaru, they took care of their grandchild in daylight, and when Katsuki got off from work, he would pick up his child and take care of him by the night. Even though his mom insisted to take care of her grandchild full-time, Katsuki declined and said that he wanted to take care of his own blood as much as he can.
Years passed and his now 7 years old son adores him very much. He saw how his father beat up the villain and save people. It makes him want to be a hero like him. Every time Katsuki would come and pick him up from his grandparents, he would reenact the moves Katsuki did making Katsuki smirk.
“Alright brat. Stop with that and pick up your stuff. Let's head in.” Katsuki said parking his car in his garage as he opens the door for his son to get off.
“You look so cool! And you went kick! And then bam!” the kid said as he went and pick up his things from the back seat.
“I know I am. Now let's go inside.” Katsuki said locking the car door and going inside their home.
Once they both settled, Katsuki changed from his work clothing to his normal clothing and starts preparing their dinner. “Oi. Don't forget to work on your assignment!” he yelled, receiving awe in response that made him chuckle.
Katsuki watched his son drag down his school bag making his way to the living room where the center table is.
“I heard from your teacher you’re doing well,” Katsuki said as he chopped the ingredients.
“I need to be good so that I can be strong like you!” his son said making Katsuki smirk.
“You think I’m strong?” Katsuki looked at his son who was working on his homework by himself.
“Mhm!!”
Katsuki took his time watching his son count his fingers before saying aha as if finding out the answer. When Katsuki continued his chopping, little did he know his son suddenly went quiet and stopped writing. He stared blankly at his unfinished homework before speaking up.
“Dad,” he called out softly.
“What?” Katsuki replied thinking that he might need his assistance with his homework.
“Why don't I have a mom?”
His question made him halt his chopping. He knows the answer to his question and yet he was hesitating to say it. He's too young to know that his mom suddenly left them when he was still a baby.
“I saw my classmates being picked up my their mom.” His son added.
“I could pick you up after school.” Katsuki glancing at him.
“I hate being left alone at school when Grandma can't pick me up.. Sometimes, Ms. Y/n would take me out with her and eat in a cafe.”
This he didn't know. “What?”
“Sometimes grandma and grandpa can't pick me up because they have a lot of clothes to make so I'm always left alone at school with Ms. Y/n”
Why doesn’t his mom tell him this?
“How long do you usually wait for them to pick you up?” Katsuki was pissed.
“It gets dark outside. Ms. Y/n would take me to her home and would cook for me! She's a great cook, dad!”
Katsuki will make sure he’ll discuss this with his parents.
“Sometimes, Ms. Y/n is like a momma to me! She take care of me. She wipes the dirt off my knees whenever I tripped. She has a small apartment though. But it's very clean!” Katsuki stared at his son as he rambles about his teacher. “And, and, Ms. Y/n has a healing quirk! It's very cool whenever I watch her heal someone, her hands are glowing! Although if it heals, she’ll get a wound out of nowhere..”
Katsuki is now interested. He has this eagerness to meet this teacher his son is talking about. He's been too busy being a hero to the point he relies on his parents to drop his son at school. But after what he heard, this is the first time he’ll drop his son to school.
#bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#mha bakugou#bakugou katuski x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou x y/n
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Willing Accomplice | Ethan Landry
Ethan Landry/Fem!Reader
Summary: you never know just how much information a person could be hiding behind a shy dorky persona.
Warnings: mentions of violence, cussing
Word Count: 4022
(I believe in happy endings :)
..••°°°°••.. °°••....••°°
Moving all the way to New York City to attend Blackmore University with your Woodsboro best friends who all had a very complicated year full of secrets and betrayals it was obvious that everyone in the friend group would be on edge. When two film students who attended many classes with you guys were brutally murdered in their college apartment, Mindy took it upon herself to start interrogating the newcomers in the group.
“Tara! Do you not remember how these movies work?” Mindy yelled a bit loudly which startled the boy sitting next to you.
“Is she always like this?” Quinn questioned looking over towards her roommate Sam who replied back with a defeated eye roll. Ethan sighed while you wrapped an arm around his torso and laid your head on his chest getting ready to eventually defend him against whatever Mindy was about to accuse him of doing or being.
“Which brings me to my next point!” Mindy stated very loudly standing straight up in front of Quinn.
“Never trust the roommate or love interest” she said with a straight face glancing over towards the two of you innocently cuddling on the bench. Ethan shifted feeling uncomfortable which led you to grabbing his hand and rubbing your thumb over his fingers to calm his nerves. While Mindy started walking over towards you guys her twin brother Chad puts his arm out in front of you two before talking back to his sister.
“Mindy seriously look at him, you really think he’s ghostface?” You knew Chad didn’t mean it in a rude way; he was just looking out for the two of you.
“Exactly my point! Ethan the shy innocent dorky nerd who happened to find interest in our very much antisocial shy best friend. It’s a perfect cover, who knows maybe y/n wants revenge on us and is Ethan’s accomplice.” Mindy had seen way too many movies and just started spewing bullshit.
“W-Why am I a suspect? I shouldn’t even be a target!” Ethan finally spoke up.
“Oh seriously Ethan of course you’re a suspect and a target, your girlfriend got sliced up by some loser last year who liked her despite him being Sam’s boyfriend” Mindy exclaimed and Sam once again rolled her eyes.
“Ex boyfriend Mindy, remember I slit his throat? And he died like a baby.” Sam said with absolutely no expression in her face as she looked over at Ethan.
“I’m done with this conversation you’ve officially crossed the line Mindy. I’m leaving.” You stated while grabbing your backpack and yanking your boyfriend off the bench making him follow you like a lost puppy.
“Great going Mindy! The last thing we needed was the group being split up.” Chad said while getting up from the now empty bench while giving a disapproving look towards his twin. Tara quietly gathered her stuff and accompanied Chad wherever he was going.
“Mindy, wait a second” Sam said, grabbing her arm before she took off in anger.
“Keep an eye on their relationship, seriously y/n can’t afford anything bad happening to her again.” Sam said while Mindy nodded in agreement knowing what had happened last year.
To say last year was bat shit crazy was an understatement. You had been developing an ongoing relationship with Wes when the unthinkable had happened. Wes had gone home right after school that fateful day while the rest of the friend group decided to hang out in the courtyard to discuss the potential suspects in the ongoing ghostface murders. Before heading out you had gone back into the school to retrieve some books from your locker to complete your homework later on. But suspiciously your locker had been opened with a note stuck to it that stated ‘If I can’t have you nobody will’ your thoughts continued to race while you ran back to the friend group only to find them with a sorrowful look in their eyes. After Wes’s attack you had become distant and began acting out as a defense mechanism. During the final act it was revealed that Richie Kirsch had planned all of this with his girlfriend Amber Freeman in order to inspire movie makers to create the greatest Stab movie of all time. You were just a pawn in their huge game plan to kill Sam because of her biological father Billy Loomis except Richie did find a slight interest in you which he openly admitted to everyone in the room before Sam brutally ended him.
Despite ghostface running around ending lives left and right frat parties continued on like there was nothing to be afraid of.
“Well don’t you just look so adorable” You scrunched up your nose trying to hold in your laughter as you stood in the doorway of Ethan and Chads dorm room. You couldn’t even tell what he was but you have to admit he looked absolutely adorable in his nerdy armor costume.
“My personal knight in shining armor” You giggled while stepping up on your tippy toes to place a light gentle kiss on his lips. Ruining the moment Chad walked back in from the bathroom in his ever so slutty cowboy costume.
“Wow Chad what an entrance, you’re acting as if it isn’t below forty outside.” You gestured towards his shirtless body.
“And what are you supposed to be?” Chad questioned you as you spun around showing off your school girl outfit that had your Hogwarts house colors to show off your Harry Potter obsession.
“Come on nerds we are going to be late and we also have to go pick up Tara” Chad said before grabbing his keys and walking out.
“I think you look gorgeous” Ethan blurted out while his face flushed red because he had become nervous around you.
Parties weren’t really your thing so you hung out with Mindy and Anika on the couch. Despite the fight you had with Mindy the other day you couldn’t be mad at her forever because you both had gone through so much together. Getting bored of sitting there having to watch the couple make out all night you got up from the couch in search of your own lover. Not seeing him downstairs you continue your way through the house and spot the roommates dancing together before Chad starts yelling.
“Yes Ethan! You’re such a snack! A full course meal!” Chad screamed, yeah he was for sure a little drunk. You couldn’t lie you were a bit tipsy yourself and just wanted Ethan to take care of you. Before you could even approach them a commotion could be heard from downstairs and there came an overly worried Mindy in search of Chad. Ethan had noticed you by the stairs and grabbed your hand before heading down following the twins. Before you knew it the friend group was outside listening to Tara scream at her older sister Sam for being controlling. Everyone was being dragged back to Sam’s apartment because she had been sick of your guy’s college antics and thought that everyone would be safer in numbers. You had tried arguing saying you didn’t have any of your personal belongings but she did not care and simply stated you could all pack a bag tomorrow and come back before anything bad happens. Sam explained that it would be like one big sleepover for however long until this nonsense was over.
‘But I have Econ tomorrow night” Ethan chimed in realizing everyone rolled their eyes at his comment.
“Do you have Econ or a murder appointment?” Mindy raised her eyebrow staring at the two of you once again cuddled up comfortably on the Carpenter’s couch. Before you could say a quick remark back towards her Sam told everyone to shut up and seemed incredibly frustrated.
“Does nobody care that ghostface is going around stabbing people again?” Sam said running her hands through her hair but before she could speak again a loud bang and a string of moans sounded throughout the apartment. Sam quickly stood up and started banging on Quinn's door while the rest of you tried to hold in your laughter.
“Get your boyfriend out of here from now on it’s just going to be people we can trust” Sam stated and Quinn apologized while kicking her “boyfriend” out of the apartment with only his boxers on. All the tension seemed to die down and everyone got comfortable with the sleeping arrangements that Sam had given them. Ethan got the couch while Chad had to sleep on the floor because Mindy and Anika claimed the loveseat and Sam had stuck you in Tara’s room so Chad wouldn’t pull anything with her younger sister. When everyone figured Sam was asleep you and Chad switched places except you didn’t claim the floor and instead laid on top of Ethan snuggling into his chest trying your best to fall asleep after a stressful night. Ethan wrapped his arms around you holding you close as you tangled your fingers in his full set of curls that were your absolute favorite feature on him. The morning soon came and everyone went their separate ways to either pack their bags or attend classes but everyone had promised Sam that they would arrive back at the apartment by six. Everyone had gone on with their day and before heading out to the Carpenter’s apartment you decided to walk Ethan to his Econ class just to have a moment alone with him and it was worth it.
“Don’t take anything Mindy says seriously, okay?” You said quietly to him.
“I promise I’ll be at the Carpenter’s after class, I just can’t afford to fail or fall back this early in the semester.” Ethan stated while giving you a disappointing look because he wants to be there to be able to protect you if anything bad were to happen tonight.
“I’ll be okay for the couple of hours you’re gone, I promise.” You smiled trying to escape the bad thoughts that flooded your brain of all the possible things that could happen tonight and you should have trusted this gut feeling you had but you ultimately decided to push that feeling aside.
“I’ll save you a seat on the Carpenter couch!” You yelled back as you started walking away. You could hear his little laugh as a response and decided that maybe everything will turn out okay in the end. As you continued walking your phone buzzed with multiple texts from the group chat reading that everyone was on their way over now. You entered the apartment with two packed bags, one for yourself and one for Ethan.
“And where’s your psycho ghostface boyfriend?” Mindy asked before you could even settle down.
“He had Econ he’ll be here later on, I even have his bag with me” You said frustrated that Mindy had already started getting on your nerves.
“No y/n doors are being locked right now either he is on his way or he is being locked out” Sam said with a straight face.
“Why the fuck do you all hate him so much! He has done nothing wrong or suspicious for you guys to be attacking him at every moment.” You said with tears spilling down your cheeks.
“We don’t hate him, we just need everyone to be here. We need everyone to be willing to follow the rules in order to keep everyone safe, so we can all survive. It’s what Wes would have wanted y/n.” Tara said while pulling you into a tight hug breaking the tension in the room only to be interrupted by your phone ringing causing everyone in the room to tense right back up. You answered it by putting it on speaker.
“Hello y/n having a good night aren’t you?” The other person on the line asked and it was obvious it was the killer because of the way the voice sounded. Sam grabbed the phone while walking over to where she kept her knives in the kitchen only to notice that they were all missing.
“Not one of you is going to answer me? If you can’t answer my questions, maybe your sweet innocent boyfriend can and maybe he will have to die a virgin. I guess little shy y/n really was just insecure after all you couldn’t go all the way with Wes and now it looks like you’re about to lose the opportunity to go all the way with poor innocent Ethan.” The killer laughed while you paced around the living room while everyone else just stared at you. You grabbed Chad’s phone quickly dialing Ethan’s number and after a couple of rings he finally picks up apologizing to the professor for having to leave early.
“Ethan no no no don’t leave Econ stay inside the classroom please.” You pleaded into the phone. Instead of getting a response from Ethan you hear the Killer say that he has the perfect opportunity on the other phone in Sam’s hand which had suddenly abruptly ended due to the killer hanging up. Instead of getting a response from Ethan there was a sudden thump coming from Quinns room and before anyone saw it coming Quinns dead body was being thrown onto Anika while everyone freaked out and started panicking Ethan who could hear all the commotion through the phone and started asking what was going on and that he was on his way over and he would be there as fast as he could which after he had said that he hung up the phone and suddenly Chad was dragging Tara out of the apartment and down the hall while Sam knocked ghostface to the ground to stop them from hurting Anika even more than they already had. Everyone ran into Sam’s room where Mindy frantically placed Anika on the bed and quickly started thinking of different ways to block the doorway. While Mindy blocked the doorway Sam was grabbing a ladder through the window from her very hot across the hallway secret boyfriend.
“Are you fucking crazy Sam?” You yelled looking at the ladder that you would eventually have to cross over to get into the other apartment.
“Do you have a better idea y/n?” Sam argued back and you gave her a defeated look while trying to get Anika lifted off the bed and closer to the bedroom window. Mindy told everyone to cross over into the other apartment because someone had to hold the door and she was already doing that so it made sense for Sam to cross first then you followed. You could hear Mindy yelling at Anika to cross the ladder first but you knew Anika was too weak and already bleeding out to be able to cross the ladder successfully and eventually Anika convinced Mindy to cross before her but after that it was too late for Anika as you watched her plummet to her death as ghostface shook the ladder with all the strength they had in them. You will never forget the scream that Mindy let out that night and you were once again traumatized by a person in a ghostface mask. The police were called in by Ethan when he hung up from being on the phone with you. Once everyone was reconnected outside in the ambulance Ethan came running from under the yellow caution tape only to be stopped by Chad pushing him up against the police van.
“I was at Econ, you guys know this! You heard me apologizing to my professor through the phone!” You pulled Chad off of Ethan and wrapped your arms around him and rested your forehead against his chest and just cried you didn’t care if anybody was looking at you.
“You’re at the top of my suspect list.” Mindy stated with a saddened look still freshly grieving the death of her girlfriend.
“You guys should be happy that I called the police for you instead of accusing me of being the killer.” Ethan argued back while grabbing your hand and leading you away from the crime scene that was currently being broadcast on the news by none other than Gale Weathers.
The days continued on and while not being able to be fully trusted by your friends you had no other choice than to all stick together like Sam had originally planned on doing. You were glued to Ethan’s hip never wanting to leave his side and the friend group took notice of this and stopped accusing him of being the killer because the murders and attacks continued on and Ethan seemed to have always been around because you had agreed to follow Sam’s rules in order to prove your innocence and Ethan had also agreed. As news broke out that Gale had been attacked Tara took it upon herself to ask detective Bailey to help lure the killer in and execute him. Detective Bailey ultimately agreed because they had killed his daughter which left him with no family at all due to his son dying in a car accident a couple years back. The entire friend group made their way to the abandoned theater in hopes that the plan would follow through and that there would be an end to this nightmare.
“Y/n I don’t think you should help, you will be much safer out here. I don’t want anything bad happening to you” Ethan said before pulling you into a tight hug then leaning in to kiss you for what could be the last time he thought to himself.
“Ethan we have to help them, we have to put an end to this. If we all stick together nobody will get seriously hurt.” You told him before giving him a quick hug and grabbing his hand leading him into the abandoned theater. You noticed Ethan drop his backpack near the entrance but didn’t think much of it because the group was calling for you two to come to the back of the theater to help go over the plan once again. You felt Ethan tense up before walking over to the counter and leaning against it.
“E, are you okay?” You asked softly, walking over towards him and grabbing his hands. Before you knew it you heard gunshots go off and Sam yell that the killer is detective Bailey.
“Y/n I need you to leave right now, don't fight with me about this, just go outside where it’s safe, please.” Ethan pleaded with tears in his eyes. You watched as detective bailey walked behind Ethan as you stood there frozen in place trying to pull Ethan away from the counter and into the room where the others were because Sam was right we would be safer in numbers.
“Son, are you just going to stand here spending time with Richie's girl or are you going to help me kill the people who murdered your brother?” You watched in disbelief as someone in a ghostface costume walked up beside detective bailey.
“You did good kid, unlike your brother over here who refuses to leave his little girlfriend alone.” Bailey said as they took off their mask only to reveal Quinn. The others stood behind you watching all of this unfold.
“Oh hey roomie” Quinn laughed as Sam looked upon the scene unfolding in front of her.
“I thought you were dead?” Tara asked in shock.
“You know as a detective it is really easy to fake someone else’s or your own death.” He laughed as he pointed the knife to his youngest son.
“Maybe we should have faked Ethan’s death since he wanted to fall in love with his older brother’s crush and ruin our plan of getting revenge.” Bailey said right before Ethan had grabbed you, picking you up off of the floor and walking behind the counter to join his sick twisted family.
“You’re Richie’s family aren’t you?” Sam asked and that's when you noticed Ethan’s eyes change into a pair you have never seen before.
“E, please please let me go” You pleaded.
“The pet names aren’t going to work anymore y/n” Detective Bailey said before forcing Ethan to drag you into the other room. The others called out for you begging Ethan to let you go but it was no use he was never going to let you go now. But before leaving the room you noticed Ethan grabbed his backpack. While your friends begged and fought for their own lives in the other room Ethan brought you over to one of the movie theater seats and sat you down.
“I was never going to hurt you.” He stated.
“I never hurt anyone, it was just them two.” Ethan said with tears spilling down his face. He unzipped his backpack pulling out one of his dads guns and a knife. Ethan handed you the knife and told you to follow his lead.
“No Ethan, I am not hurting my friends, they are my family.” You cried out.
“No we aren’t hurting them, you know who to aim for.” Ethan said with confidence. You didn’t know if you could fully trust him or not but you had no other option than to do what you were told. You were his willing accomplice. He grabbed your arm and walked you back over to where the others were.
“Y/n what are you doing?” Chad yelled
“She turned on us just like I knew she would.” Mindy choked out due to her blood pooling in her mouth because of being stabbed in the stomach.
“Well would you look at that. What an unexpected twist of events I knew Richie wouldn’t disappoint me, you are psychotic just like he was. Too bad my other son over here won’t ever live up to his older broth-” Before he could finish his sentence detective Bailey hit the ground and died at the hands of his youngest son. And before Quinn could get her hands on you Sam had shot her and she fell right on top of her father as both of them laid there lifeless. You dropped the knife and ran over towards your friends sobbing, finally being able to let all of your feelings out. Tara pulled you into a hug while all of you watched Ethan slide down to the ground unable to keep himself composed after killing the only family he had left.
“He never hurt anyone.” You quietly whispered, unable to speak properly, but everyone had heard you.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam had questioned him while pointing her weapon of choice at him.
“Bailey he killed my mother covered it up because he didn’t want his wife to find out about his affair. I don’t consider them my family. They took my mother away from me to save their own family image. The only thing I have in common with Richie and Quinn is a messed up dad and I can assure you I am not a killer like my half siblings. I have never had contact with them before they found me when I moved out here to go to college. I really thought that Bailey killed Quinn and he told me that he would kill me too if I didn’t help him. I promise I never hurt anyone and I never will.” Ethan begged while he watched Sam lower her weapon and offer him a hand which he gladly took. He slowly stood up as the others stared at him with sorrow. You slowly walked up to him and pulled him into a hug where he silently sobbed into your shoulder as the others discussed what needed to be done moving forward. Ethan Landry the shy dorky nerd who nobody expected to have that much of a messed up life. Nothing will ever be the same but moving forward you knew you had to be there for the boy who spared your life and protected you from his own twisted bloodline. All of you who have had to go through these unimaginable experiences were a new found family that no killer would be able to separate.
#ethan landry#ethan landry oneshot#ethan landry imagine#Ethan Landry/Reader#Ethan Landry x Reader#Jack Champion#Jack Champion oneshot#jack champion imagine#Jack Champion/Reader#Jack Champion x Reader#Scream#scream vi#scream movie#tara carpenter#sam carpenter#mindy meeks martin#chad meeks martin#anika kayoko#fanfic#fanfiction#oneshot#imagine#sidney prescott#gale weathers#scream franchise#scream imagine#jenna ortega#jenna ortega imagine#Jenna Ortega oneshot#Jenna Ortega x reader
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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Nine
Kusuo Saiki x Reader
Chapter Nine: Mothers and Meetups
Summary: Saiki and (Y/N) get stuck as Saiki's house, and (Y/N) ends up in an awkward discussion with Yumehara and Teruhashi.
“Soon, the world will turn into a sea of blood,” said Kaidou cryptically as he walked down the street with his friends.
“At least red’s a pretty color,” said (Y/N), always seeing the positive side of things.
“The time of awakening is fast approaching, Saiki,” said Kaidou.
“Why don’t you wake up?”
“Well, then, Saiki, (L/N). See you tomorrow,” said Kaidou. “That is…assuming there is a tomorrow.”
“Oh, hi, Shuniekins! Are you going home now?” asked a grey-haired woman in front of Saiki’s house.
“W-Welcome home, mama!” stuttered Kaidou.
“Is that your mom?” asked (Y/N) excitedly.
“I am, Shun, are these friends of yours?” questioned Mrs. Kaidou.
“Well, never mind them! Let’s go home!” squeaked Kaidou nervously.
“What’s the matter? Our house is close by. Why don’t you invite them over for tea?” asked Mrs. Kaidou.
“What?! W-Well, they’re busy. Right? Isn’t that right?” Kaidou was practically begging his friends to say they were.
“Yeah, I do have some stuff I was gonna do today…” said Nendou.
“Come on, get the picture.”
“Actually, it was nothing important,” finished Nendou.
“I would love some tea!” chirped (Y/N).
“And you?” Mrs. Kaidou addressed Saiki. “Are you busy?”
I think I’ll pass.
“I got some coffee jelly from the neighborhood association earlier.” Mrs. Kaidou smiled.
“I’m sure he’s free,” said (Y/N) teasingly before Saiki even responded.
“Please take us to your home.”
“Please, come in.” Mrs. Kaidou opened the door of a huge house. She led them to a bedroom. “This is Shuniekin’s room.”
“What a big room!” exclaimed Nendou.
“Wow!” (Y/N) grinned as they looked around.
“You can do somersaults on the floors!” Nendou began to roll around.
“Yeah, but there’s no good reason to.”
“He’s lively, isn’t he?” remarked Mrs. Kaidou, smiling. “No matter, I’ll go prepare tea.”
“Th-Thanks!” Kaidou called after her.
“Hey, runt! You call your mom ‘Mama,’ huh?” teased Nendou.
“You had to bring that up, didn’t you?”
“Are you a goody-goody at home?” joked Nendou.
“I know the nickname attack very well.”
Kaidou switched to his eighth-grade syndrome persona. “She’s an ordinary citizen. I’m trying not to drag her into this since my identity in this world is Shun Kaidou, not the Jet Black Wings! As for ‘Mama,’ in this case, it’s the characters for ‘true’ and ‘demon’ combined. In the world I come from, that’s how we address our mothers.”
“Calm down, Shuniekins,” teased Nendou.
“You’re a big mama’s boy,” cooed (Y/N).
Nendou began looking under Kaidou’s bed.
“Ah! Hey! What’re you doing, you jerk?!” cried Kaidou.
“Looking for dirty magazines, what else?” replied Nendou.
“Blech,” said (Y/N), sticking out their tongue at the idea.
“Huh? I don’t have stuff like that!” said Kaidou.
Nendou found a box and dumped out some journals. “Oh? This looks suspicious. What’s this?” He picked up a paper labeled “contract.”
“Don’t touch that notebook!” squeaked Kaidou. “I’ll never forgive you if you open it.”
“Put that down, Nendou. That’s not a game to him.” Saiki was serious.
(Y/N) nodded fervently. “Leave it alone.” They snatched it from Nendou and gave it back to Kaidou.
“What’s the big deal?” asked Nendou.
“Those with eighth-grader syndrome have notebooks that they never want others to see.”
“You’re no fun. I’ll check out these other shelves,” said Nendou.
“How dare you mess up my sanctuary, you jerk!” said Kaidou.
His mother entered the room with a tray of tea and sweets. “Thank you for waiting.”
Kaidou immediately became quiet and polite again as everybody began to eat and drink.
“I know it can be tough since he’s so shy, but please continue to be his friends,” said Mrs. Kaidou.
“S-Stop it Ma—I mean Mom!” cried Kaidou.
“She’s quite different from my mom.”
“And mine!”
“So, you three, what college would you just kill to get into?” asked Mrs. Kaidou.
“Ma—Mom, it’s too soon for that sort of talk!” exclaimed Kaidou.
“What are you saying? It’s important to start thinking about that now,” his mother said, frowning. “You three are second years. You must be studying for your college exams, right? So which school?”
“What’s this ‘killer college business?” asked Nendou.
“I really haven’t thought about it all that much. Besides…right now this is all I can think about.” Saiki began to eat his coffee jelly.
“I haven’t narrowed it down quite yet,” said (Y/N) brightly, sipping their tea.
Those were all the wrong answers.
“Just how lightly do you three take your future?” demanded Mrs. Kaidou. “College prep begins the moment you enter high school! Shuniekins goes to cram school three times a week and studies at least three hours a day at home! You three at least prep before all your regular and after school classes, right?!”
“I’m not disregarding my future, but…” (Y/N) trailed off. They felt like it was a bad idea to continue.
Nendou and Saiki were silent (mostly because the sweets were too distracting).
“Shun, come with me!” commanded Mrs. Kaidou. She dropped a ton of workbooks on the table. “You three work on workbooks! You can have snacks when you’re done!”
(Y/N) sighed and slumped in disappointment. “Aw, man…” They sighed and picked up a thin worksheet. “Maybe if I get a little done, she’ll let me have something…”
Saiki nodded and, when they weren’t looking, made the rest of the work finish itself with his abilities. “Finished,” he said. Please let this be one of the times you’re not observant.
“Let’s eat then!” cheered (Y/N), not questioning anything.
Good.
Mrs. Kaidou opened the door and saw the pair eating while Nendou played videogames. “What are you three doing?! I told you to study!” She began to flip through a workbook. “I don’t want you to hang out with my Shuniekins any—What? Can’t be…They’re finished?! It hasn’t even been ten minutes!” She was astounded. Could these three really be…geniuses?!
“Hold on a sec, Mama! I know what you said earlier, but I really—What?” Kaidou frowned in confusion as he entered.
Mrs. Kaidou was happily giving out more tea and sweets to (Y/N), Nendou, and Saiki. “Please continue to be friends with Shun! Oh, Shuniekins, what good friends you’ve got!”
(Y/N) leaned over and whispered to Saiki. “I’m really glad she didn’t press the whole college thing. I don’t think she’d really take to the idea of going to culinary school instead of a college for academics.”
“You want to be a cook?”
“Confectioner, actually,” said (Y/N). They grinned teasingly. “Yes, that means I could make coffee jelly.”
“Are you an angel?” blurted Saiki.
(Y/N) just laughed.
Saiki found that he liked that sound.
l
(Y/N) was heading to Café Mami, simply thinking about the snacks they wanted. They were broken from their thoughts when she bumped into Teruhashi and Yumehara.
“Teruhashi? Yumehara?”
“(L/N)?”
“(Y/N)?”
They ended up sitting together inside Café Mami.
“I think this is the first time we’ve seen each other outside of school,” said Yumehara.
“Now that you mention it, you’re right,” said Teruhashi.
“I didn’t know you two came here,” said Yumehara.
“It makes the best tea and sweets,” said (Y/N), smiling.
“I come to study and read,” said Teruhashi.
“I see…” Yumehara trailed off.
All three took a sip of their drinks.
This is awkward. We don’t talk much at school, thought Teruhashi.
I called them by their first names. Do we know each other well enough to do that? wondered Yumehara.
This tea is really nice, thought (Y/N).
“Ah, come to think of it, our school trip is coming up soon, right?” remarked Yumehara, making conversation.
“Okinawa, isn’t it? I can’t wait,” said Teruhashi.
“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it.” Yumehara began to fantasize about Saiki complimenting her (extremely unrealistically).
“Yeah…” Teruhashi began to daydream Saiki saying “oh, wow” (also extremely unrealistically).
“I’m excited!” chirped (Y/N). They imagined Saiki as well, but their mind pictured just traveling Okinawa with him (though they also wished for a moment with him. They did like him, after all).
“I can dream, right…” breathed Teruhashi.
“Huh? Were you thinking something just now?” asked Yumehara.
“What? No, nothing!” said Teruhashi hurriedly. “What about you two?”
“I-I wasn’t thinking about anything,” stammered Yumehara.
“I was thinking about what I want to do on the trip,” said (Y/N) honestly.
“Um, do you have someone you like, Kokomi?” asked Yumehara, trying to create conversation again.
Teruhashi spit out the tea she was drinking.
“What?! You do?” asked Yumehara excitedly.
Oh, yeah, Teruhashi likes Saiki, remembered (Y/N).
“N-No, I don’t,” denied Teruhashi, “You suddenly asked the question, so I was surprised.”
“Sure…” said (Y/N). No point in exposing her to someone else who likes Saiki. Especially since it would cause him trouble.
“Well, I guess you wouldn’t right? It seems love worries are foreign to you,” said Yumehara. “What about you, (Y/N)?”
“Nope,” chirped (Y/N), lying easily.
The other girls nodded uncertainly. They didn’t believe them (mostly because they assumed that (Y/N) liked Saiki as they did since they spent so much time with him).
“What about you, Yumehara? Do you like someone?” asked the blue-haired girl.
“Y-yeah,” said Yumehara, blushing.
“Wow! Who is it?” questioned Teruhashi.
Saiki again, thought (Y/N).
“Well…don’t tell anyone, okay?” asked Yumehara.
“Of course not,” said (Y/N).
“Someone in our class?” asked Teruhashi.
“Yeah,” admitted Yumehara.
“Ahh, now I’m curious!” Teruhashi smiled brightly.
“My psych—,” began Yumehara.
Oh, wow, is she really going to be truthful? (Y/N)’s eyes widened.
Teruhashi spit out her tea. “What’d you just say?!”
“What? Oh, I said my psycho ex-boyfriend is finally out of the picture, so…” said Yumehara.
Oh, oops, thought (Y/N).
“Oh, psychO…psychO, right…” mumbled Teruhashi, relieved.
“It’s someone I liked before I went out with my boyfriend,” said Yumehara.
“Uhm…to tell you the truth, there is someone I’m sort of interested in,” said Teruhashi.
Is Teruhashi going to admit it???? thought (Y/N). “Wow, really?”
“What? No way?! Who’s that?!” questioned Yumehara excitedly. “In our school?! A French guy?!”
“H-Hey, you’re too loud,” said Teruhashi.
“She’s very curious,” laughed (Y/N).
“Well, since so many guys hang out with you, I can’t figure it out,” said Yumehara, shrugging.
“No, that’s not true. The last time I hung out with guy friends was when I went to Saiki’s house with (L/N) and the other guys on New Year’s Day,” said Teruhashi, smiling.
Yumehara spit out her tea. “O-Oh, I see.”
Uh, oh. They’re realizing that they both like Saiki… thought (Y/N).
They were completely unaware of the two girls who were also thinking about how (Y/N) might like Saiki. Luckily, they were all distracted as a straw wrapper popped over the booth divider.
“Oh, sorry. It went to your side,” said Nendou, appearing over the divider. “O-Oh, Teruhashi!”
The trio looked over at the other booth.
“Hi, guys!” (Y/N) waved and grinned.
The other two began to blush as they realized Saiki could have heard them talking. Seeing the other blush, their suspicions were confirmed. Strangely, though, Kaidou bumped into Yumehara, who turned completely red. Nendou then accidentally jostled Teruhashi, who also blushed. (Y/N) could tell that from Teruhashi and Yumehara’s wide eyes that they probably thought the other liked Kaidou and Nendou, respectively.
(Y/N) grinned and whispered to Saiki, “Lucky break for you. Now they won’t be fighting over you.”
“Yeah. Just lucky.”
Unfortunately, (Y/N) wasn’t as lucky, and as they spoke to Saiki, they remained right in the line of fire of Teruhashi and Yumehara’s suspicions.
Yare yare.
Saiki decided to ignore them and order another coffee jelly. With (Y/N).
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#a not so disastrous romance#x reader#gn reader#nb reader#x gn reader#x nb reader#the disaster of psi kusuo saiki#saiki kusou no psi nan#saiki#saiki x reader#saiki k#kusuo saiki#saiki kusuo#kusuo x reader#saiki kusuo x reader#kusuo saiki x reader#tdlosk#saiki no psi nan#the disastrous life of saiki k
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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)
Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.
Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This chapter also has some suggestive themes and language
Taglist:
@phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock |
@whore-of-many-hot-men
Chapter 20
[Prev] [Next]
Law’s grip on your sweaty hand was grounding for you as you fidgeted in your seat. Across the table from the two of you in the tiny medical conference room was Robin, who was silently shuffling through papers in front of her. The room was so silent you could almost pick out the sound of the clock hands ticking away each passing second, each interval seeming to grow longer and longer. You anxiously bit the inside of your cheek as you watched your doctor diligently sort through your comprehensive patient history.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally looked up. “I think IVF will be a good method to try. The success rate for women with endometriosis successfully conceiving and carrying to term with IVF is much higher than going without. Additionally, you have undergone some treatment for your condition, which improves your chances much more substantially.”
You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the tension seeming to roll off of your shoulders. You glanced up at Law beside you, whose face was contorted in confusion. The sight made you stifle a chuckle.
“Sorry, can you, uhm… explain what IVF is?” he asked Robin. “Sorry I’m a bit useless with gynecological stuff.”
The question made Robin smile, appreciating his candidness. “Of course, Law. IVF stands for in vitro fertilization. It’s a procedure where a mature egg is fertilized outside of the body and is then implanted into the uterus, thereby increasing chances of successful conception and embryo growth. Of course, that’s the layman’s version of it. But once I have your official go-ahead, I will explain in much greater detail.”
You could see the gears turning in your husband’s head, making you grin. You loved the way he was clearly dissecting the mental image of what Robin had just explained. He silently nodded.
“I would like to go through with it,” you affirmed. “If it will increase our chances, then I’ll do anything.”
Robin organized your patient files in front of her, a content grin on her lips. “I’m delighted to hear that. If you’re ready, we can begin discussing the full process, since I imagine you would like to begin as soon as you possibly can.”
You eagerly nodded. “Yes, absolutely.”
Law was counting in his head. “How long has it been since the last miscarriage?” He was growing so nervous in the stifling room that he was losing track of time. You started to worry that he might be the one to pass out this time.
“Almost six months, I think,” you answered, rubbing the surface of your glass ring with your thumb.
Robin nodded. “I believe that’s correct. That’s a good amount of time for your body to heal, so you should be ready to conceive again with little issue.” The black-haired woman reached into her bag in the chair beside her and procured her laptop, opening the device and clicking through a few windows. “Are you okay if we begin discussing the procedure?”
“Yes I am,” you confirmed. Law nodded beside you.
“Perfect. The entire process could take anywhere between six to eight weeks, so I want you to be prepared for that waiting period. Because, trust me, there will be a lot of waiting,” she explained. She turned her computer around, displaying an illustrated diagram of a uterus and ovary. She used her finger to point around the screen. “I’m sure you’re more than familiar with what you’re looking at, so I won’t have to explain the anatomy. We’ll monitor your menstruation cycle briefly, and then the process will begin with ovarian stimulation, which alone can last anywhere from eight to fourteen weeks. This will ensure that multiple eggs can grow to maturity, instead of just one. We will most likely use an injectable hormone medication for you, considering your condition. Are you following?”
You once again nodded your head, laser focused on her words as her fingers moved around the diagram. “Following.” You weren’t so sure about Law, but you thought somewhere in that thick head of his he was absorbing your doctor’s long-winded explanation.
“Alright. After ovarian stimulation, we’ll be monitoring your eggs while they’re still in your body every few days to ensure they are maturing properly with the medication. 36 hours before the retrieval, you’ll be given what’s called a “trigger shot,” to stimulate your eggs to complete maturation. Egg retrieval will be done as a minimally invasive procedure, so you will be put under general anesthesia, but the process is quite short. A suction tube will be inserted through your vagina with the help of an ultrasound, and a small needle will be placed through the tube to puncture your ovary and extract a small amount of mature eggs. The eggs are stored on a petri dish and placed in an incubator to prepare them for fertilization.”
“Kind of like chicken eggs,” you joked.
Robin snapped her fingers with a chuckle. “That’s a good comparison. Once they’re ready to be fertilized, a single sperm will be injected into each egg on the dish. It’s likely that not all the eggs will successfully be fertilized, but having the multitude of mature eggs greatly increases the chances that at least one will form an embryo. You’ll have to wait a few days while the embryos develop on the dish, but once they have progressed far enough, they will be able to be transferred. You also have the option to freeze unused fertilized embryos, in case you want to conceive again in the future.”
You and Law nodded along with her words.
“The embryo transfer itself is a very quick procedure, similar to a pap smear. A speculum will be inserted into the vagina, and a catheter will be used to insert one or more of the fertilized embryos into your uterus. Your body will usually take care of the embryo from there, having it latch to your uterine wall and form a placenta. After about 14 days, we’ll give you a blood test that will determine if the pregnancy was successful. If it is, then we’ll go about the usual pregnancy monitoring. If not, we try again after a few menstrual cycles. Understood?”
You and your husband leaned back in your chairs, taking deep breaths. The explanation of the process was almost as exhausting as actually carrying out the procedure, but something in your chest told you that this was a good idea. You had a giddy feeling develop deep within, almost begging you to go through with the long, arduous process, somehow promising that it would be worth it.
“I understand. I want to go through with it,” you once again confirmed.
Robin smiled, amused by your willingness. “I’m happy to hear that, we’ll be there constantly to support you and monitor your progress. Let’s officially begin the process in a week. We’ll need to do a comprehensive full blood panel, infectious disease screening for both of you, an evaluation of your reproductive system, and a male fertility test. It’s just a formality,” she explained.
Law became slightly rigid in his seat, alerting your attention. He appeared nervous as he asked, “Will I have to go back to the fertility clinic?”
Robin looked confused at his question. “Yes, is there a problem with that?”
You thought briefly about why your husband would be so uncomfortable with returning to the clinic, until a sudden memory flashed into your brain. The sight of Law, hunched over your kitchen counter with his head in his hands, guilt plaguing his entire being as he informed you he couldn’t ejaculate into the cup at the fertility clinic until he watched 15 minutes of porn on his phone with the volume as low as it could go. You had laughed at his misery then, and you had to fight your entire body to hold in your laugh now.
Law quickly shook his head, collecting himself. “No, no problem at all.”
The gynecologist’s eyebrow tilted up in confusion, but she dropped the subject as she wrote a list of instructions on a piece of paper before handing it to you. “Take this to the reception desk to schedule your appointment for next week. Most of the tests on you we can perform in this clinic, but your blood panel will have to be done at the outpatient laboratory. I’m also going to file a prescription for estrogen patches so we can begin regulating your cycle. Once all your tests are done and approved, we can proceed to the next step!”
You enthusiastically took the paper from her, reading over her guidelines and dates. You smiled at your doctor, standing when she did and shaking her hand cordially. “Thank you so much, Dr. Robin, I really appreciate it!”
“Of course, I’m more than happy to be able to help you two with this. I’ll see you next week, alright?” she asked as she gathered her papers and laptop into her bag, preparing to leave the room and let you two continue on with your day.
You and Law gave her an affirmative nod as you departed, your husband following you like a lost dog to the reception desk so you could schedule your next appointments. The only thing in his mind at that moment, however, was the dread of returning to the fertility clinic. He did not want to have to deal with Dr. Franky again next week.
—
“HEYYYY, TRAFALGAR! It’s good to see you again, welcome back!”
The booming voice of Dr. Franky made Law wince as the giant man entered the small room, another clear plastic cup clutched in his abnormally large hand. The cardiac surgeon looked at the fertility doctor differently now that he knew that your gynecologist was this man’s wife. What a small world.
“How are those swimmers doing, huh?” the blue-haired doctor asked, a bright smile on his face as he plopped himself down in the swiveling stool that rested below the medical counter. He clacked a few times on his keyboard, looking up Law’s patient info. “Here for another sperm sample, I see.”
“Just part of a protocol,” Law muttered, his face growing red with shame.
“Ahh, got it, got it.” Dr. Franky nodded a few times as he typed.
Law felt his phone buzz a few times in his pocket, but ignored the urge to reach in and check his device while the boisterous man was in the room.
“Well, you know the drill! Just–”
“I know, Doctor, I know…” Law mumbled, fighting the reflex of pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
With a pout, Franky passed over the clear cup, gave his regards, and left Law alone in the room. Finally surrounded by silence, the man slipped his phone out of his pocket to see who had texted him during his brief yet horrendously awkward discussion with the fertility doctor. His spirits immediately brightened upon seeing your name on the screen, followed by slight confusion upon reading your messages.
Wifey
Good luck at the clinic today baby!!!
Wifey
Thought these might help you ;)
Wifey
[3 Image Attachments]
Wifey
[1 Video Attachment]
Wifey
See you later darling <3
Law felt his face grow heated upon seeing the images you had sent him. Suffice to say, he was not expecting it.
But his wife’s beautiful body was always worlds better than porn.
—
“Hey, I’m home!” you called into your apartment, kicking off your shoes. The excited tapping sounds of Bepo greeted you, your cloud of a dog skidding across the floor into your entryway, his bushy tail wagging a mile a minute while his pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as he smiled up at you. “Look who’s happy to see me!”
“Hey, hon,” Law called from around the corner, leaning against the wall as he watched you be smothered by the thick, billowing fur of your four-legged baby. He had a smirk on his face as you stood to greet him, a surprised gasp leaving your throat as he grabbed your arms in his calloused hands and brought your lips to his, kissing you dumb.
When he finally pulled away, you flashed him a knowing grin. “I take it you appreciated the ‘help’ I sent you?” You used air quotes to punctuate your sentence.
“Oh, I more than appreciated it,” he hummed back, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck where he knew you were the most ticklish. He delighted in the giggle that left your lips as you fisted his shirt in your hands.
Bepo eagerly butted in between your pairs of legs, demanding the attention to be on him. He had spent so much time with Shachi and Penguin as of late that he was desperate for the love from his parents. His big, beady eyes gazed up at the both of you as he silently demanded you to go to the living room and sit on the couch so he could curl up next to you.
“Okay, okay, let’s go sit down,” you relented, laughing as your dog immediately sprinted to his favorite couch cushion. You followed your furry baby, Law’s hand in your own, a pleasant, content grin on your face. You flopped down next to your dog, your husband following your lead and pulling your body down on top of his, your ear resting over his heart. You could hear it thrumming away, endlessly excited about the concept of holding you.
“You know what I like about you, Law?” you asked, adjusting yourself to be more comfortable.
“Other than the fact that I’m married to you?” he teased.
“Yes, other than all the obvious things that I like about you,” you joked back, poking a finger into his side. “I like that you still treat me like you did when we were dating.”
Law’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to deconstruct what your words meant. “What do you mean?”
You sighed. “I don’t know… I was just thinking about it today. Like, some married couples drift apart after they have kids or after big life tragedies, but you didn’t do that. And I like that about you.”
Law wrapped his arms around you, linking his fingers together as they rested over the small of your back. “Couples who leave each other after having kids probably didn’t have a spark to begin with,” he replied. “Same with couples who give up on each other after bad events happen to them. But that’s not us, it never has been and it never will be.”
“So you’ll still like me when I’m old and shriveled?” you asked, your voice holding a hint of sincere insecurity along with your joking tone.
“I’ll love you even when we’re decaying skeletons six feet underground,” he replied, planting a kiss to the crown of your head. “Who knows, maybe the 80-year-old you will be even sexier than you are now. Only one way to find out.”
“Law!” you yelped, laughing at his flirtatious remark. A few more jokes were tossed between you two, lighthearted giggles floating through the air as you cuddled before you finally relaxed in his embrace.
“How did your tests go today?” your husband asked, idly trailing his hands up and down your sides.
“They went well, my blood panel was completely normal, but the nurse said I should try to up my Vitamin D intake,” you explained. “My ultrasound and saline sonogram were fine, there was some endometrial tissue on the outside of my uterus but Robin said it shouldn’t pose a problem. And my infectious disease panel…”
The way your voice trailed off made Law pick up his head to look at you, concern bubbling in his chest.
You gazed back up at him with a cheeky smile. “No tuberculosis.”
Law barked out a laugh. “I sure as hell hope not!”
You giggled along with him, dropping your head back down onto his test. “Aside from my texts, how did your test go?”
Your husband grinned, though you couldn’t see with your current position. “It went fine, thanks to you I was out of there much quicker. Nothing abnormal with my semen, and I hope to whatever’s up there in the universe that I won’t have to go back there again.”
“Is it really that bad?” you asked, holding in your laughter.
“It’s just that Franky guy. He’s so… loud. He’s always the last person I see before I’m supposed to jerk off into a cup,” he lamented.
“Fertility doctors don’t get you hard?” you teased.
“Not when they call semen ‘little swimmers,’' he griped back.
The conversation was making you giggle uncontrollably, your body trembling in your husband’s grasp as you poked fun at his misfortune before finally getting your energy out and settling down. “Well… for your sake, I’m happy you’re done with that, too.”
Another comfortable silence settled over the two of you as you lay back on the couch, your dog snuggled with both pairs of your feet.
“Are you feeling ready to start this whole thing?” Law asked.
You pondered your thoughts briefly. “I’m… I’m definitely really nervous, but I think I’m ready.”
Law’s hand rested on the back of your head, supporting you against his chest. “I’m not leaving you, baby. I’ll keep promising that until my tongue falls out.”
His words made a relieved, content grin crawl to your lips as you buried your head further into the junction between his shoulder and neck. “I love you, Law.”
“I love you, darling.”
#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#law x reader#trafalgar law x reader#one piece x reader#trafalgar d water law x reader#op x reader#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law#i'm losing you
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Omg omg i love your writing!!! No words can describe how much I love it!
Imagine muderface with a s/o or crush that says the weirdest stuff, like some stuff that they have been through. It is so random! Like those tik toks that say "the Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do is die" in the most randomest of situations.
Like imagine just chilling out doing nothing and y/n looks over at muderface and says "would a zombie apocalypse be a formal event? Like your buried in your best clothes?"
It woukd very so cool if you could write something for this but if you don't want to that's cool!
Just wanted to share my thoughts. No one I know watches Metalocalypse.
Thank you!!!
Have a wonderful day or night!!
(I didn't really check my grammar or spelling that well, I am sorry)
Murderface with an S/O that says ~random~ things!
“The color is actually named after the fruit.”
You baffle him daily. He never asked to be spoonfed random trivia, shower thoughts, or absurd hypothetical questions. And yet, here he was, eating it all up.
When William was first met with your verbal hijinks, he was just so, so confused. Why did you know this? Why were you telling him this?
“What?”
“Orange. Like, people just described the color as yellow-red or something before the orange fruit was spread around Europe and they got a new word for it. The color is named after the fruit.”
“…Okay???”
For a while, he thought you were trying to give him clues about something. He was just extremely suspicious of you. Like, surely there had to be a reason behind it, right? Well, no, and he soon just found it was a quirk of yours.
He was always told to shut up whenever he tried to pipe in or had an interesting fact to share, so you defying one of the fundamental rules of his life is a bit jarring.
As he grows closer and more comfortable to you, he gets used to your pondering and even begins to consider them. Maybe you have a point?
“What’s the minimum amount of ducks do you think it would take to fully kill an adult rhino?”
“I don’t fuchkin’ know. Probably a schit ton.”
“I bet, like, five. They’d just swarm him.”
“You are scho wrong. He’d schtomp them all to a pashte.”
Well now he’s gonna stay awake all night thinking about it. He can’t decide if you’re the stupidest person he’s ever met or the smartest. Either way, he gets a little flustered when facing the seemingly infinite expanse of your mind.
After a while, he begins to pick up your habit. In his own Murderface-way, of course. He had a pretty obvious interest in things like car mechanics and war history, but now he’s more willing to share all of what he knows with you. He’s really excited that someone finally seems interested in what he has to say, no matter how meaningless it is.
And once that door is open, he becomes more willing to open up on a deeper level. Even though he’s a dumbass, he does have a depth of intelligence, even if he isn’t great at articulating it. Be patient and you’ll get some fascinating conversation from him.
“Even if there isch a God…like, what the fuck, man?! You juscht gonna leave us all down here to suffer and schit? I might as well ignore you juscht to schpite you! What a dick move.”
William never realized how valuable it was to him just to be listened to. Simply talking to you slowly becomes one of the better parts of his day, everyday.
It takes a lot for Murderface to love and it takes even more to love him back. But the effort is well worth it with these types of riveting discussions;
“You have to fight a bug that’s 100 times its original size and you get one weapon from the medieval era. What is your bug and what’s your weapon?”
“Easchy. Butterfly, Croschbow. One arrow for each wing. Instant win.”
#polyklok is real#metalocalypse#dethklok#dethklok headcanon#metalocaypse headcanon#william murderface#metalocalypse x reader#request filled#metalocalypse murderface#murderface x reader#william murderface x reader#i love you murderface but writing your speech is murder
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I saw requests were open and I have one☺️. How about one when you are like Brad Pitts daughter or anyone famous daughter and you just started dating and his team or Friends like make fun of you and hurt your feelings or just say he is using you.
hi hun!! thank you for sending the request!! i hope you like this!!!
Word Count: 2.4k
Pairing: boyfriend!harry x reader
Warnings: cursing, kissing
masterlist!! | send requests!!
“He’s just using you because your dad is an A-lister”
Those were the words Y/n wished to never hear. But, she always did, in her every relationship.It was when her friends began to say that, that she knew the relationship was reaching its end.
Y/n. Y/n Pitt. The daughter of Brad.
She was almost as famous as her father, if not less. A successful model and actress, a philanthropist and currently, the girlfriend of Harry Styles.
Her fame and success didn’t come handy, despite her father being a prominent name in the industry. Her career got a big break when she won a prestigious beauty pageant, and she has never looked back ever since. She made her way by herself, from the bottom to where she is now.
Still, whenever she hears the phrase “he used you”, it hits like a dagger deep into her heart, and that makes her question if she would ever be loved by anyone for who she is.
Which takes her back to today, sitting in a cafe with her friends, which was supposed to be a hang out. But, soon it turned into a relationship discussion, full of petty gossips and hate. About her and Harry.
“Dude, you know that he is with you because of your dad, right? I mean, come on, Y/n! You can’t be this naive!”
“That’s totally true! I mean, like, think about it, next month is the opening of your family production house, which was announced 6 months ago. And, Harry started dating you just around that. That just can’be a fucking coincidence.”
She sighed, as she listened to the both of them trash talk Harry. She knew they weren’t true. They hadn’t met 6 months ago. They had met a year ago, and occasionally saw each other at awards and openings. They did some harmless flirting for so many months, but then, one day, they were drunk and hooked up. After that, they started to date. It was Harry’s idea, because he didn’t want her to feel like he did all that flirting to get in her pants one day. He genuinely liked her, and was hoping to ask her out. And that had felt like the perfect opportunity.
They had been happy ever since. Harry didn’t inquire too deeply about their family’s business. He wasn’t interested in her money and fame. He was interested in her. He liked her. Right?
“Y/n! Are you even listening?” she was broken from her trance of thoughts by her friend, and she immersed herself back into the conversation.
“You have got to do some background check on him. See what he does on meetings with his team. He just finished a tour, he wouldn’t be planning another one so soon. You know, snoop around, find out stuff.”
“I am not going to do that! That would mean I don’t trust him! And I do! I trust him. And what he does on meetings with his pr team is his Harry!!!business. I don’t want to put my nose in between.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Yeah. Say him hi from us if you see him soon. Or if you see him at all”
That hurt her.
True, they both hadn’t seen each other since a few days. Weeks, if you will. But, he told her that he was busy and had to visit his mum for a while. And how could she argue with that?
She decided to not answer them back, terminating any further arguments. They changed the topic soon after, talking about some other gossip.
. . .
Throwing her stuff on the floor, she slumped down on the bed. The workout was good, but sometimes, it drained the whole life out of her.
After catching her breath, she got up and pulled out her phone, pulling up Harry’s contact.
They had texted three days ago, and the messages made her smile,
Harry: Okay, so, do you like tea or not?
Y/n: I like tea. But not that much hat you will bring me a while shop of your “Special England tea”!!
Harry: It’s not even that much. Plus, I will drink it with you.
Y/n: But still???
Harry: Come on!!
Y/n: Alright, fine! But you will make tea for me. Every morning and evening.
Harry: Done! Always at your service, ma’am! 🫡 Plus, you know, tea has antioxidants. And it boosts immunity! I can make a cuppa for you everytime after we fuck.
Y/n: Harry!!!
Harry: What?? It really boosts energy. After one round, you feel so tired and—
Y/n: Alright, stop! You’re such a menace.
Harry: I’m your menace!! You took responsibility of this menace those months ago.
Y/n: Don’t make me regret that!
Harry: Aww :(( I’m sad now.
Y/n: Wanna facetime?
Harry: Yess! But I’m still sad :(( 🙁
Y/n: Yes, Harry. I will make it up to you! Now call before I change my mind.
Harry: Yes, ma’am 🫡
They used to text regularly, but called rarely. The last call had been about a week ago, when he was drunk and had butt-dialled her. They had talked, and she managed to safely halp him get to his room, drink water and go to sleep. And he slept without hanging up, and so did she. Harry woke up at midnight, and started sneezing, which woke her up. She wanted to check him for fever, but he promised he was okay, and was going back home soon after, so she didn’t have to worry afout him. She was a bit assured by that, but still, she couldn’t stopped worrying.
He hadn’t called ever since. Even the last one was a accident.
She wasn’t the clingy type, or someone who needed calling and texting every minute and every hour of the day. They both had professional careers that mattred to them profusely. But, she missed him. So, she decided to call.
He picked up, and was clearly in the middle of something.
“Y/n! How are you?” she didn’t hear them clearly, over all the talking in the background.
“Harry! Where are you?!”
“I’m in a meeting!”
“But-you were supposed to be at your mum’s!”
“Yeah! I came back early. I had a meeting her in LA. It’s about an upcoming film.”
“A film!?”
“Yeah. It’s in the talks. I haven’t signed it yet, though.”
“What is this about?!”
“I’ll tell you, I’m coming back sson. Then we can go on a dinner or something. And hey! I almost forgot! The production is done by your dad’s firm!! Isn’t that great!”
Shit.
“Oh! You-you didn’t tell me that.”
“Yeah, your dad asked me not to. But, it’s gonna be on the media soon, so I thought you hear it from me rather than the press.”
“Listen, I gotta go. I’ll talk later.”
“Sure, love! Bye!”
And she cut the call.
Were her friends right? Did he use her for all these months just for this?
Maybe they were. Maybe they weren’t.
She felt sad. Sure, the offer might’ve been by her dad, but, no one talked to her? No one even bothered to even tell her about it, till the last moment. Till the paparazzi were gonna know so that she won’t feel bad for herself by hearing it from them.
Maybe they were right. Maybe he did date her to get the advantage, and will soon breakup with her, as soon as his job from her is over.
As soon as he has finished using her.
. . .
He was coming back today. But, she wasn’t bothered. He could come, and go back to his own house. Not bother talking to her, or even seeing her face. She didn’t want that.
Despite that, she picked up his call.
“Y/n? You didn’t pick up my call yesterday. Was calling you before I got on the plane.”
“Yeah-I was kinda busy yesterday.”
“Oh. So? I’m back. I’m gonna get my baggage and then…maybe I can come over?” he smiled, she could tell.
“Uh-I don’t know, Harry. I’m tired. I had a shoot yesterday and I haven’t eaten much.”
“So? Let me take you to dinner.”
“I’d rather stay ion tonight”
“So I–”
“Alone.”
“Oh. Alright. Okay. Call me if you need me.”
I won’t. She thought to herself.
“Bye, Harry” not “Bye, lovie” or “Bye, H”
Maybe she was tired. Harry decided not to think about it too much, and instead, went to his house.
. . .
“Harry!! How’s my man?”
“Hey! I’m good! You know, same old-same old.”
“Yeah! Where’s Y/n? She isn’t here?”
“No, man. She actually wanted to rest today. She had a shoot yesterday”
“No, she didn’t. She was with us yesterday. We went shopping, and then drinks, even.”
“Oh…”
“Maybe she was tired? Or hungover?”
“Or maybe she didn’t want to be with me.”
“Hey! Don’t say that. She actually likes you. Talk to her.”
“Yeah. I will”
He didn’t talk to her.
. . .
Y/n was scrolling through her phone, when she heard the door knock.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Harry.”
She wanted to pretend she wasn’t here. But, it was too late for that.
“Coming!”
She opened the door, and was welcomed with white peonies. A lot of them.
“Good morning, love”
She couldn’t stop the smile that took over her face on seeing him in the morning. The glowy face, the handsome smile.
“Good morning! Come in”
He walked in, removing his shoes, and to the kitchen to put the flowers in water.
He came back, and she was sitting on the sofa.
“I put them in water. Hope you don’t mind”
“No! I don’t. Come on, sit.”
He sat, to hug her, and sling a hand over her shoulder.
But, she slid away.
So, he sat away too, both ending up on the opposite ends of the large sofa.
“So? How you’ve been?”
“I’m fine, thank you! How was your shoot that day?”
“It was alright.”
Lie. He didn’t bother asking her more, not wanting to hear more lies.
“You free today?”
“Yeah…I think so?”
“So, can we go out? A coffee or something?”
“Or, we can hang out here.”
She smiled. He caught it, and scooted closer, wanting to kiss her.
She didn’t protest, allowed his lips on hers. It was when he deepened it, and his hands went to her shirt buttons.
“Harry–Harry!”
He pulled back, confused.
“Yeah?”
I-I don’t really feel like– you know”
“Oh. Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s alright. I just don’t feel too up for it”
“Sure.” they both looked down, an awkward silence engulfing the atmosphere.
“I should leave” he said after a few seconds, taking the hint that she clearly didn’t want him there.
“Oh. You don’t wanna stay?”
“Not really.”
Saying that, he saw his way out.
“She dosen’t like me anymore. Maybe found someone else.” he thought
“He got what he wanted. Why is he staying? He should leave already.” she thought.
Harry was sad. As he walked towards his car, he felt anger. She didn’t like him anymore. Could’ve just said to him at his face.
He couldn’t live like this. So, he decided to got back to confront her.
Before Y/n could close the door shut, Harry was back.
“Harry?”
“Yeah. Me.” he growled, so angry, his eyes were red, and fists clenched.
“What happened?” she asked, a bit scared.
“You tell me what happened. You don’t like me anymore?”
“That’s not–how can you say that?”
“You don’t talk to anymore, you don’t call me, or even text me. You don’t want to hang out with me, hell, you can’t even stand kissing me anymore.” he was hovering over her, and she was scared now. He realized that, and backed down, throwing himself on the couch.
“That’s not true! And you can’t talk like that to me!”
“I’m sorry. But you could just tell me. Instead of making me suffer like that. Or do you like that?”
She too was angry now.
“Maybe I do. Right now, I fucking do. And that is much better than what you did to me!”
“And what did I do?!”
“You used me. You fucking used me to get contacts with my family. You just wanted to get close to my dad so that you could use his money on your stupid new movie!!”
“What? Fuck! You think that low of me?!”
They both were yelling now.
“It’s not “thinking low” of you. It’s what’s true.. You didn’t even tell me anything. Hell, I didn’t even know you were doing another movie.”
“I was planning on telling you over dinner. After I came back.”
“But, you couldn’t. You feared that I would learn everything from the media, so you told me haphazardly over a fucking call!”
“Oh, so would you rather have heard it from them?”
“Could’ve been better. Better than hearing from a fucking liar. A fucking loser who just used me to get my father’s money.”
“Watch your tone, Y/n. I haven't gone that low. And you know that.”
“Maybe I don’t. Maybe you did, and once you got it, came back here to break up with me.”
“You’re so fucking childish!”
“Oh. Break up with me, then. Do it”
“Maybe I will” he mocked her. And walked out the door, slamming it shut.
He went back to his car, and made his way inside this time. Once the anger had subsided, he cried. And so did she.
. . .
“Harry styles rejected a movie produced by Y/n Pitt’s father. A coincidence or a desperate attempt?”
She slumped, when she read the article. and then about ten more, about how he had backed down in order to save his relationship. Some said that it was a publicity stunt.
She pulled up Harry’s contact, calling him.
"Why?"
"To get it off your mind that I did not use you."
"Fuck, Harry. What do you want from me?"
"I don't want anything from you. I want you."
"Really?"
"Yes, y/n. really. I did not give up a million dollar project for just "really""
"You didn't have to, you know. And that wasn't a good bargain either. What did you get? Me? Should've taken the movie instead."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah"
"You want me to break up with you. And take the movie instead.?"
"Yes. if that's what you want."
"What I want is you. How do I say it so you believe me?"
"Take me on a date."
. . .
any feedback is appreciated!! even a like matters!!
taglist:
@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @drewrry
tell me if you wanna be added or removed!!
#harry#harry styles fanfic#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry styles fic#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles one shot#harry styles writing#harry styles x you#harry edward styles#harrystyles#harry fic#harry angst#harry fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles au#harry styles blurb#harry styles concept#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fluff#harry styles fic rec#harry x reader#harry styles masterlist#harry update#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x oc
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Hey babe can u pls make Ethan (or Jack) x older reader? (I am 3 years older than him ☠️☠️) drink water n always try to sleep 8 hours ❤️

perfect opportunity to set a rule. i won't be writing for any real people. but I'm happy to write a little fluff piece for ethan! (i’m also two years older, little 2002 baby) also thank you for the love❤️❤️
reader is gender-neutral.
WC: 826
warnings: cursing
masterlist
“you’re fucking with us.”
“no, i’m not.”
the table got silent and then, “nah. no way you have a partner. especially an older partner.” chad planted his foot down. he knew ethan wanted a bit of respect in the friend group, but this was a huge fib.
ethan rolled his eyes, “when you say older it makes it seem like i’m dating a widower. they're just three years older. they work at the school library.” hoping that might give some type of autonomy for them to rack their brains about.
“dude, that doesn’t give us a single clue about them. we don’t study at the library twenty-four-seven like you.” tara pointed out.
“also most of us have easier classes,” mindy with her sarcasm. anika chided her girlfriend before asking ethan her own question, “how long have you been dating?”
ethan got a bit shy, head turning as he scratched his ear. “about three, almost four months.”
“oh, shit. ethan i didn’t know you had that much game.” chad cheered as he clapped ethan’s shoulder. ethan’s face showed confusion, “just three minutes ago you didn’t even believe i had a partner. now you're saying i have game?”
chad shrugged, “eh. still gotta meet this wonderful person that swept little ethan landry off his feet before i one hundred percent believe you.”
“i’m sure they are a lovely person,” anika tried to uplift ethan from the backhanded comments. “maybe we could meet them. if they're up for that?”
ethan smiled at his friend as he nodded his head. “i’ll- i’ll ask them. but they’ve mentioned before wanting to meet everyone.”
tara shimmed her shoulders and awes, “so you talk about us? hope it’s all good stuff.” fist to her cheek as she smiles.
“yeah- yeah. always- always good things.” ethan messed with the pages of his textbook. his homework was forgotten once you became the topic of discussion.
“you two have sex yet?” mindy outright asked. everyone exclaimed loudly, chad was also curious. tara and anika argued with the twins' childish antics.
“you don’t have to answer that ethan.” tara reminded him. she swatted chad’s shoulder. the boy exaggerated the pain the five-foot girl caused to his muscled shoulder.
ethan didn’t even have a chance to stutter out any comment. there was a yell of his name and everyone turned their heads towards the noise. and when ethan turned a smile lit up his face and he jumped from his seat. his head of bouncing curls and jacket pushed by the wind as his converse-clad feet carried him halfway across the campus grounds to your open arms.
your arms over his shoulders and his around your waist. he lifted your feet off the ground, face tucked into his neck, and gave your bodies a twirl, once then twice before stopping in place. you leaned back, hands sliding from behind and cupping his cheeks as he held your hips.
“hi, pretty boy.” a kiss to his waiting lips. he hummed at the touch before you pulled away.
“hi, baby.” another peck between lips. “i’ve missed you.”
a light chuckle, “i saw you this morning.” a hand pushing curls around.
he gave your hips a squeeze, “well now you're making it sound like a bad thing. can’t i miss my favorite person?”
the corner of your mouth quirked up. something over ethan’s shoulder caught your attention and it brought a tilt to your head. from the corner of your eye, you could see ethan’s brows furrow in the middle.
“what?”
you nicked your chin, “there is a group of people behind you just watching us like starving hawks.” right hand left ethan’s features and gave a timid wave to the little group. they all turned away except for a guy who waved back enthusiastically before a girl hit his shoulder.
ethan turned his body, one arm holding you to his side as the other pushed hair from his forehead. he sighed, “those starving hawks are my friends. who happen to believe you don’t exist.”
looking away from his friends and attention turned to his side profile. your eyes detailed the shape of his nose and the point of his cupids bow along with the speckled freckles.
“well,” arm around his waist hugged him tight, “why don’t i introduce myself? hope they're not disappointed i'm not a unicorn.”
you pulled away from ethan, arm running along his back before catching his hand and tugging him behind you. a look over your shoulder and the flush to ethan’s chubby cheeks, it just made you fall even deeper into the tight grasp that was wrapped around your heart.
your so lucky ethan landry walked into your life on that random wednesday.
feet stopping at the head of the table, ethan behind your shoulder with hands still held. a beaming smile parted your lips while giving a gentle wave to the four pairs of watchful eyes.
“hi, i’m y/n l/n, ethan’s partner.”
#ethan landry oneshot#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry blurb#ethan landry imagine#ethan landry#ethan landry fluff#ethan landry x gn!reader#ethan landry scream 6#jack champion scream 6#scream 6#scream 6 x reader#scream 6 imagine#scream vi#scream 6 x gn!reader#jack champion#jack champion x read#jack champion imagine#erin's blurb request
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I am rotating the thought of a very perverted obsessive yandere and their submissive willing darling who loves just how ravenous their yan is for them. Darling deliberately makes themself enticing (maybe bending over on a table and being absolutely sure to present themself) and when they turn around they see their yan behind them looking like they want to just eat them up right there, drooling and growling and all. Not even a werewolf or anything, just a yandere that is THAT feral for their taste at any given moment. Idk, I just noticed that scent played a big part in your sensitive yandere pieces and since I'm simply the way I am I thought this one might be centered around taste. Either way keep it up all this stuff is really nice!!
YESSSSS!!!!!!! love yanderes who are a bit too obsessed with certain senses surrounding you!!!
if you have any sort of insecurities about sitting on someones face, they evaporate the second you get with this yandere. idk what their specific name would be but taste yandere seems to be the best option
imagine youre so nervous about sitting on their face and they just grab your hips, pull you down and force you to sit despite being fairly submissive, something just completely overrides that part of them when theyre close to tasting you, licking inside of you, getting your taste in their mouth and hoping it sticks to their tongue permanently.
you can feel them groaning into you, feel their hips bucking up in pleasure, and then the only thing you know is their hot tongue exploring everywhere. amab, afab, doesnt fucking matter, theyll love eating you out either way. something about tasting you, it just... its indescribable but the only way they can really put it is addicting. tasting you in your most private places, it just.. it does something to them. even when they're making out with you, they adore slipping some tongue in there and luckily they stopped naming what your last meal was a while ago when you gave them a weirded out look.
i can also imagine this yandere being obsessed with cooking and baking and having a fixation on mixing your juices with their food or drinks. cum is the most popular one but theyve also begged you for others.
just like the sensitive yandere was obsessed with recreating your smell, this one will go mad trying to taste you without you being there and hopefully youre around them enough to give them a regular fix before they end up getting a bit... cannibalistic with need. just like the sensitive yandere, they cant control it! they need the taste of you on their tongue like they need air or water! and theyre willing to get their need satisfied anywhere but kitchen is one of their favorites (your bedroom will always be number one though)
in their desperate moments, i imagine them stealing things youve put your mouth on or even touched. utensils, straws, cups, lollipop or popsickle sticks.. theyre ashamed to say theres even more depraved things but we can discuss that later.
theyd definitely be a bit... oral obsessed. kisses, licking, biting, sucking, those are their favorite activities and when theyre with you, its perfect. heavenly. theyve admitted to wanting to eat you a few times and you simply dont have the courage to question all of the meat they use in their cooking.
and luckily for them, your libido is high enough to keep up with them, they just need to coax it out of you. its the end of a long day and youve been sweating? you can barely even get your request for a shower first out before theyre pouncing on you, shoving their face between your thighs, getting drool all over your bottoms.
you get into the habit of wearing skirts after they made a habit of just ripping your jeans or pants open. denim wasnt an issue since they usually had a knife on them for cooking and you were getting tired of 'buying' pants. was it really buying if you were using their money though? but your yandere nearly goes insane every time they see you in a skirt. easy access is all they can think of and soon enough, they get turned on every time they see you in a skirt or dress.
bending over? squatting? laying down? sitting down? doing literally anything? theyre right there, whining and begging you to let them eat you out again. they end up getting TMJ from how often theyre eating you out and you despise the proud look on their face when they tell you. what a dumbass.
and god, i just know they could cum just from tasting you and its one of your favorite things to do. if theyve been bad, you shove them away every single time they even try to lick you, bite you, anything to get the taste of you in their mouth. you purposely bend over more, show off your underwear, purposely spread your legs to present yourself to them and you adore seeing the pained, desperate look on their face. at some point, you have to tie them up to keep them from pouncing on you.
you torture them by touching yourself in front of them, watching them strain to get closer and every single whine, whimper, moan, plea and beg gets you hotter and hotter. at first, its through your underwear until a wet spot appears and then you put your underwear near them so they can smell it but not taste it like they need. theyve got a puddle of drool in their lap by now and seem to be non stop growling. and when you finally untie them? youre both gonna have the night of your lives and they definitely will not have learned their lesson.
theyre a subtype of sensitive yandere which makes them extremely sensitive and perverted and easily humiliated. the first time they cum untouched while eating you out, they can barely look you in the eye. so cute! id add more about just how pervvy they are but im losing steam :( maybe ill add onto this tho! ;D good idea!
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I've only recently immersed into modern therian/alterhuman/nonhuman/etc community on tumblr (and in English-speaking community in general) and oh how does it confuse me
For years I've only been communicating with those who don't really draw lines between all those labels. I would love if someone helped me with choosing the right one, because I think using the wrong one may confuse others.
I usually feel the whole outline of my dog body roughly aligned with the pose my human body is in. It is always present, yet sometimes certain features become more prominent and these sensations interfere with my usual train of thoughts. Most of the times it's muzzle, hind paws, claws, cheek fur and mane.
Are those delusions? I don't know. Probably not. I think I had those when I was younger and was desperately trying to transform, lying in my bed and grabbing the sheets in pure angst of feeling the teeth, the fur, the bones aching, but then I looked in the mirror and cried, having all of my internal sensations of finally being in my true form crushed.
"Shift" is a word I use to describe sudden urges, cravings to do nonhuman things, like catching and eating a small animal, run and jump on all fours.
And I don't do quads, because they only intensify the disconnection between the body I feel and the body I feel stuck in. I want to transform, to have my bones be the right length, to move as I'm supposed to move, but I can't.
I've seen Nimona recently and loved it when she described the feeling as "it's like really want to sneeze, but can't". Hits real close.
I've always called myself a therian but it ?seems? that in last several years the definition of this word changed a lot. And "otherkin" feels weird because I am not dogkin, I am dog.
But when should one call themselves alterhuman, or nonhuman?..
I feel like nonhuman isn't really the label, because I am, unfortunately, human shaped, and the stuff that works for human brain and bodies works for me too.
And it seems to me that alterhuman is mostly used by humanoid creatures like fae, elves, etc?
So are there any other words that can be used as labels for such a creature? I feel somewhat drawn to the cynantrope label, but I can't claim to be one just like that. I think so. May be I am wrong.
Please correct me if I understand something wrong! These are genuine thoughts and questions, and I'm open to discussion and new experience.
Added tags to reach out!
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Creepy Guy
Requested? No. This is based off an experience that happened to me recently, but I changed it up a bit to match the One Chicago Universe. In this Halstead sister works at a bar, but it’s not Mollys.
TW: Creepy guy, pet names I guess.
Jay Halstead x Halstead!sister
“Can I ask you something?” you asked while taking a seat on your brother’s couch.
Pausing the game that was on TV, he turned to you and replied, “sure! What’s up”
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, when you opened them, you saw concern looking back at you.
“I know this was creepy and wrong, I don’t even know what I’m asking or saying, but I think I just need to tell someone I think” you started to fidget.
Coming to crouch in front of you, Jay looked up at you, “Hey, it’s alright, what’s going on”
“So, I was coming home from work the other day and it was going great! The regulars were there, it wasn’t so busy with it not being Baseball season yet, but afterwards” you began, while looking everywhere but at your brother.
“Y/N, do you need a ride?” asked your coworker Kyle. Kyle was an older guy - 30 - who had started working at your bar a few weeks ago. He already had gained the trust of everyone who worked there and all the customers loved interacting with him, since he always had wild stories.
“Uh, I already called an uber” you replied while tilting your phone in his direction to show proof.
Motioning for you to walk to his car, he stated, “come on, I’ll take you home. It will be faster and cheaper than an Uber.”
Nodding, you quickly canceled your ride and hopped into his passenger seat.
****
“The ride had started out chill. He started asking me about how long I’d been living in Chicago, what area I lived in, ya know so he could drive me home, and kept going on about how it was definitely cheaper to get a ride from him than to pay a stranger half a night's tips just to get home.” you had added, while starting to play with your fingers.
“What happened next” prompted Jay, while shuffling to sit on the end of the coffee table rather than crouching on his knees.
“So, Y/N, are you looking to move anytime soon?” Kyle asked abruptly.
Laughing, you replied, “Actually? Yea I am! I’m looking in the Bridgeport neighborhood mostly.”
“Well, sweetheart, I’m actually looking for someone to take care of my plants in the coming weeks. I have two free rooms available in my house. Rent would be hella cheap and all you would have to do is keep my plants alive.”
Looking out the window, you replied, “I’ll think about it” although you knew good and well you wouldn’t be taking him up on his offer.
“Okay doll, I need to know when to make a turn to get to your place” he added while continuing to drive.
****
“As the drive went on he kept shifting between driving and verging on flirting” you stated. And this time when you spoke, you looked your brother dead in the eyes.
For half a second you saw the fire flame emoji flash in your brother’s eyes. Before he blinked and his green eyes stared back at you with concern.
“Can you maybe, tell me a little bit more about how he flirted with you? Was it just calling you the pet names and asking you to move into his house?” This was starting to feel like a witness statement, if your knowledge of cop procedural shows and having a detective as a brother was anything to go off of.
“No, he said other stuff too, like -” you started.
“So, do you have a boyfriend?” Kyle blurted out while at a stop light. You could feel his eyes on you when he asked the question.
Looking down at your phone to see how much longer you had to sit in this car with the creep, you replied, “No, and you’ll turn right in 3 stop lights” god you should have just taken the Uber.
“We are going to discuss this!” He began while starting to drive again.
“What do you mean you don’t have a boyfriend, you're gorgeous.”
Laughing uncomfortably, you replied shyly, “If I knew the answer to that, I would have one by now” god when would this end.
“You’re so beautiful and is it weird for me to be attracted to you”
“Eh, sort of,” you said quietly.
The two of you then sat in silence, when Kyle spoke again, “how much further til I have to drop you off”
You began trying to tell him, when he cut you off and asked to see your phone. You passed it over.
***
“What happened next, Y/N/N?” Jay asked when he noticed you paused in the middle of telling the story.
“He started guilt tripping me, because it was further than he thought it was to take me home.”
“Guilt tripping how?”
You closed your eyes and breathed, when you opened them you began to curl in on yourself.
“He started saying how I needed to now go out and get a drink with him because he took me this far home. He even said I now I had to take care of his plants. And he just kept complaining about how he wished he knew it would be this far when I got in the car. But the thing is he felt so cocky and sure of where I lived when I mentioned it to him in the parking lot at work. He kept getting mad when I started apologizing and telling him he could just drop me at a bus stop and I could bus the rest of the way home.”
When you paused again, Jay hugged you and asked, “What was his response to that?”
“He said and I quote, sweetheart, a 5ft1 pretty girl like you shouldn’t be riding public transportation late at night.” you began to get riled up, “I’m not naive! I’m not stupid! I’m 24 god dammit! I know to be careful of my surroundings! I’m just not a rough around the edges jaded person either! I give people the benefit of the doubt and… and…” and before you knew it you were in tears sobbing.
You hadn’t told a single soul what had happened that night. Nothing sexual happened but it was creepy as hell and all you wanted to do was bury it but it kept popping up in your subconscious.
When you finished sobbing and were just reduced to tears and sniffles, Jay spoke.
“First of all I’m so sorry that happened to you. That should have never happened. I think you need to tell your boss about this though. Especially if he is well liked and respected by customers and coworkers. And I’m not saying that because I’m a cop, I’m saying that as your brother too. What he did was super inappropriate and creepy and that should not have happened.”
You sat there taking in what Jay was saying, “but, I got in his car though. I made that choice. I could have chosen to take an uber, but something in me thought he was a good guy”
Jay could see how you thought this was your fault and he hated that.
“Listen to me, this was not your fault! You hear me. He offered to drive you home and you had evidence to back up your theory of him being a nice guy! So you did nothing wrong. You copy?”
“Copy”
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#halstead!sister#jay halstead x reader#jay halstead imagine#jay halstead x sister#chicago pd x reader#one chicago x reader
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look down on me like that - 8 (explicit)
genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst that is no longer eventual 👀)
pairing: yoongi x reader
summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.
word count: *deep breath in* 15.3k
contains: explicit sexual content and discussion of some dark themes .....yyyyyep 🤐 includes past-tense discussions of the d3ath of a parent (reader's) and su1c1dal ideation (yoongi's) so please tread carefully loves 💜 some references to alcohol per usual, and plenty of confusing feelings and piss-poor communication..... i'll leave the rest as a surprise 👀 but here are your smut-specific warnings: kissing (‼️), nipple play, clit stim, a single pussy slap lol, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting (🤭), unprotected sex and pulling out (💀), orgasm denial of sorts, but it's cool bc reader has multiple orgasms, ok byeeeee~
A/N: welp..... i'm off to enter witness protection in case you all decide you hate this chapter 💀 not really but heuhjkghkfjgdsf dear god am i nervous to post this lmfao. hope you're ready for some ~answers to questions~ and a whole lotta callbacks to earlier chapters idk why i shoved them all in ch8 specifically but here you go. the scene at yoongi's apartment was one of the very first things i dreamt up in regards to this story and it's nuts to me that we're all the way here now 💜 hope you're ready for a little more insight into these two! also baby goth fans don't come for me..... i promise we'll get a better resolution there..... reader and yoongi just have to survive LA first 😩
an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for being wonderful betas, and to @nabiolive for the dead parent sensitivity read lmfao I LOVE Y'ALL
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chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine
~*~
In the morning, you wake up well before your alarm with an inexplicable uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. When it’s clear sleep is a lost cause, you decide to just get up, and you move through your routine slowly. Everything feels distant, not quite real, like it’s happening to someone else.
On the bus ride to the office, you let your eyes drop closed and try desperately not to replay the events of last night back. You should feel bad about the sex on the conference room table, and you do, a little. But your mind is stuck somewhere else.
Rain streaking down Yoongi’s windshield. The silence as he drove, disturbed only by the low rumble of his voice. The way he’d looked at you, and the heavy pause that hung in the air between you, for just a moment, until you’d fumbled open the door of his car and had practically ran back to the safety of your apartment. And his story— he’d told you something personal, with no malice or hidden agenda that you can manage to find, no matter how much you search for one. Something from when he was just a kid, growing up in Daegu.
You’re embarrassed to admit that it never even occurred to you that Min Yoongi might be a person with a past and a hometown and stories to tell. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always just felt like… a menace. A life-ruiner. An inescapable force.
The thoughts follow you as you step off the bus and make your way into the building and onto the elevator. You can’t figure it out. Yoongi could’ve easily left you to suffer in the rain, but instead he did something nice for you, without asking for anything in return. He’d related to you. He’d let you in, barely, but it’s something.
And you have no idea what to make of it.
Polite small talk with Jungkook as you unlock the front doors is a decent distraction, but you wonder if he can tell that you’re not all the way there today. You set your bag on your desk, then circle around to take a seat, only half-listening as he continues to talk.
“Did you stay late last night?”
You swear your heart stops beating. “What?”
He shrugs, like it’s an obvious question. “There’s the big overseas thing today. I’m sure you had a bunch of stuff to prep. Hopefully it wasn’t too late of a night?”
“No.” The word comes out harsher than you mean it to. You’re not quite sure why your body is suddenly doing emotional alchemy, taking your fear of being caught and somehow turning it into anger. “It wasn’t,” you say firmly.
Jungkook makes a face, like he knows he’s touched a nerve but can’t figure out why. “Okay. That’s good.”
You don’t respond— you just try to control your breathing, try to will your heart to quit racing as you start up your laptop and pretend to suddenly be engrossed in it.
“Well,” he tries again after a moment’s pause. “I guess I’ll see you at the presentation thing.”
“Okay,” you answer, your voice a little softer this time, but you’re still too scared to look away from your screen. When you do eventually work up the courage, he’s already gone.
Before you even have the chance to glance back down, like some universal joke at your expense, the front door of the office is pushed open, and Yoongi steps through. Annoyed as you are, you can only be grateful that his entrance didn’t overlap with Jungkook’s question. You probably would have died of embarrassment on the spot.
Yoongi’s usual dark sunglasses are nowhere to be found today, and he’s in nice clothes for the presentation, a button-down and dress pants, his hair styled. He does still have a death grip on a large iced coffee, but that’s to be expected, especially given the fact that he’s in a lot earlier than is typical for him.
It’s only when his eyes snap over to you for the briefest of seconds that you see the dark shadows sunken deep beneath them, weighing heavy on his face.
Yoongi’s gaze moves back to the hallway in front of him as quickly as it alighted on you. You open your mouth before you even understand why you’re doing it.
“Yoongi?”
He stops dead in his tracks and blinks at you a few times, clearly tired, clearly not expecting the interruption. “Yeah?”
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
His mouth pulls into a flat line as he shakes his head. “Nerves. It’s why I don’t do stuff like this. Unless forced.”
You nod, unsure of what to say— or why you even asked. “Oh. Well, uh. Good luck.”
Yoongi lifts his coffee in a parting gesture, then disappears toward his lab without another word.
You try to focus on your work, to shove the interaction to the back of your mind with everything else you’re avoiding, but the screen seems to blur in front of you, until you finally push back from your desk with an exasperated sigh. The emails can wait.
Maybe, you consider, it would be good to stretch your legs. You can head into the presentation room early to set up before everyone arrives, and make sure everything is working for the several hours of agenda lined up for the morning.
Setting your shoulders back, you grab your things and make your way down the hallway. The thought feels like a good idea until you push the door open and encounter a severe case of deja vu.
Yoongi glances up from his laptop at the front of the room, blearily rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “Is it time already?”
You hover in the threshold, unsure. “Uh— I mean, not quite. I’m early. I can go, if you want.”
He shrugs, busying himself with something on his computer screen. “You’ll have to hear it anyway. Can I just run through it one more time?”
You take a few tentative steps forward, dropping your bag and laptop on the table, right where you sat to watch him the night before. The energy in the room feels entirely different now, and your stomach is twisted into knots that you can’t manage to breathe deep enough to untangle.
“Yeah, fine.” You pause, unable to help yourself. “Just… don’t expect the same treatment as last night.”
Yoongi huffs a dark laugh. “I wasn’t.”
Taking a seat at the table, you set about your admin duties and try to ignore the way Yoongi mumbles over his presentation as he taps through his slides at the front of the room. There’s only so much you can do without bothering him, and you fly through those tasks all-too quickly. You drag your bottom lip between your teeth as you glance back up at Yoongi, and then you inhale to steady yourself before you speak.
“Can you turn on the mic?”
His head snaps up, caught off guard. “Hmm?”
“I need to make sure the mic is working.” Yoongi’s gaze flits to the podium’s built in-microphone, then back to you as he presses the switch to turn it on. “Say something into it,” you instruct. “It doesn’t matter what.”
Yoongi’s eyes move back to the microphone, and it’s like you can see the delay in his brain from lack of sleep. You don’t know what you were expecting— maybe a half-assed ‘check, check’, at worst some sexual or smart-ass remark. Instead, he leans in far closer than is necessary, until his mouth is nearly touching the microphone as he whispers into it.
“Sugaaaaa.”
The live demo of the notorious producer tag that intros all of his tracks is so ridiculous, so unexpected, that you can’t help it. You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth a few seconds too late. “What the fuck was that?!” The question is only muffled slightly by your palm.
Yoongi’s head drops forward, his dark hair falling in his face, and you can see his shoulders shaking with laughter, too. “Sorry,” he manages with a gasp for breath, tilting back up to speak into the microphone, which you can now actually tell is working properly. “I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m going insane.”
You uncover your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief.
The sudden loud buzz of your phone against the conference room table makes you jump, and you quickly reach for it, for fear it might be an emergency text from your boss that needs immediate attention. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see it’s actually from Jungkook.
Presentation thing? Wanna sit together?
You read the words again and again, and a strange feeling rises up in your chest that you can’t quite name. As you stare down at your phone, you hear the distinct sound of Yoongi’s laptop shutting, and then his voice, no longer amplified by the microphone when he mutters to himself, “Fuck it. It’s as good as it’s gonna get.”
Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you glance up at Yoongi again, then back down at the text. With a final hard swallow, you turn your phone on silent and flip it over on the table, leaving Jungkook’s question unanswered.
The time is close enough now that you get to your feet to prop open the presentation room door, and then your colleagues quickly start to file into the space, filling in the seats around the large U-shaped arrangement of tables. It’s everything you can do to keep your expression neutral as your brain unhelpfully reminds you that Yoongi fucked you on one of these tables last night.
You try to manage something close to a smile when your boss enters with the team from the American office in tow, and you proceed to exchange pleasantries with them and fake laugh at their jokes when he introduces you.
As you’re listening diplomatically to one of them drone on about the flight to Seoul, you spot Jungkook slip in the door out of the corner of your eye, and it takes extra effort to keep the smile plastered on your face. The seats on either side of yours have long since been taken, and you glance over to see his eyes sweep the room before he moves to take an open spot at the far end.
You watch unabashedly now as he leans back in his chair, tilting to one side to pull his phone out of his pocket, and you can only pray he’s watching TikToks with the sound off rather than checking for a text that’s never coming.
When your manager repeats a question meant for you, your attention snaps back to the group. Sure your smile is nearly a grimace now, you apologize and blame the distraction on needing more coffee, which is enough to earn you a polite chuckle.
Eventually the room takes their seats as your manager moves to the front to start the presentation. You stay focused on copying down minutes as various speakers go through the company’s financials for the previous four quarters, the roadmap for the coming years, and a summary of top-level talent that the label has signed or directly worked with.
The discussion of talent leads smoothly into a quick review of achievements and nominations, and then Yoongi steps to the front of the room.
As he launches in, you can’t get over the stark difference between the Yoongi you’re used to and the one standing behind the podium in front of you. The man with the easy, confident, cocky demeanor is nowhere to be found, replaced with someone who barely looks up from his slides and speaks at a rushed pace, like he’s trying to get the words out as fast as possible. You bite down firmly on your bottom lip and try not to react at all.
He’s nearly halfway done now, and just as you’re thinking he might make it through the whole thing unscathed, Yoongi stumbles slightly over his words. It’s not a lot, a little slip-up that the rest of the room probably didn’t even notice, but you see a momentary flash of panic in his dark eyes. And then those eyes snap up to meet yours, and your stomach drops.
The memory of the two of you in this room, the thought of what you’d be doing to him if you were alone again, the way you could so easily make his voice shake and his knees threaten to buckle with just your mouth— it’s all too much.
You can’t help yourself as the smile you’ve been desperately trying to hide starts to spread across your face, equal parts supportive and indecent.
There’s a beat of silence, not long enough for anyone to think anything of it, and then Yoongi drops your gaze as quickly as he found it. He squints back down at his computer screen, and though he leans away from the microphone, you don’t miss the unmistakable sound of him clearing his throat.
“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and then he picks up where he left off, managing to get back on track without further issue.
You desperately try to ignore the warm flush of heat that creeps up your neck as Yoongi goes through the rest of his slides.
Time seems to speed by in a rush after his presentation, and you barely manage to keep up with the barrage of content. You’re more than grateful when your manager inevitably wraps up the session, reminding everyone to head to a nearby restaurant for a team lunch immediately following.
As the room begins to empty, you take your time finishing up the notes and firing them off to the broader audience. When you finally close your laptop and look up, you realize nearly everyone has left now, though as fate would have it, Yoongi has also lagged behind. He’s standing hunched over the conference room table as he types something into his own laptop.
You try not to overthink it as you hug your computer to your chest and take a few steps toward him. “Yoongi?”
He hums a response, and when he glances up at you, the bags under his eyes are just as prominent as before.
“Are you, uh— coming to lunch?”
He rolls his eyes, like the question is ridiculous. “I can’t. I’m drowning in shit I put off for the last two days.”
His words make you take a step back, and you immediately feel stupid for asking. Why do you even care what he does? “Right. Got it.”
You don’t wait around for him to say anything else, you just shove your laptop into your purse and pull the strap over your shoulder as you head for the exit.
Largely preoccupied with getting away from Yoongi, you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings as you slip out of the room, and you only get a few steps down the hall before a voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “There you are.”
“Jesus!” you gasp, whipping around to find Jungkook leaning up against the glass wall of the conference room, his arms crossed over his chest. “You fucking scared me, Baby Goth.”
“Sorry.” He gives a shy smile, nose scrunching slightly like he’s embarrassed. “I wasn’t gonna let you ditch me again. Lunch?”
You do your best to match his smile. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
The two of you meet up with the rest of the team at a restaurant well out of your price range, and Jungkook babbles freely as he stuffs his face, seemingly unbothered by how little you have to say in return. The chatter of so many people at the long table is a white noise that you can’t focus on any part of, and Jungkook’s usual comforting presence feels overwhelming today, nearly stifling. You push food back and forth on your plate but barely eat, your stomach uneasy for reasons you don’t want to dwell on.
“Min Suga seemed like he didn’t even want to be up there.” The mention of Yoongi’s pseudonym is enough to snap you out of your haze.
“Huh?” You glance up at Jungkook, your eyes widening slightly, and you force yourself to eat another bite of pasta as he continues.
“I don’t know, he went through it so fast. Guess it makes sense. He hates anything that drags him out of his lab, right?”
You aimlessly twirl your fork against your plate, around and around. When you first started this job, you would have agreed with Jungkook without a second thought. Laughed about it, even. Now you’re not so sure. You don’t want to add to this growing sense of friction, the weird energy in the air, but the words come out anyway.
“He was nervous, Jungkook.”
When you meet his gaze again, Jungkook looks confused, and you instantly regret saying anything at all.
“What, did he tell you that?”
You nod as you take another bite of food to avoid having to explain yourself.
Jungkook’s eyes drift down to the table between you, distant, his brow furrowed like he’s suddenly doing some complex mental math. “When?”
“Last night,” you murmur through your mouthful. “We both worked late. I helped him practice a little.” The explanation was meant to make the situation sound less incriminating, but somehow you feel like it only makes it worse. You hope Jungkook can’t tell how warm your face is starting to get.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low, his gaze still not meeting yours. “I thought you said you didn’t stay late. When I asked you this morning.”
A rush of adrenaline hits your bloodstream so hard it makes you dizzy. “I—I didn’t. It wasn’t that late. Like an hour max. Didn’t seem worth mentioning.” You set your fork down, quickly hiding your hands in your lap so Jungkook can’t see the way they’ve started to tremble.
His only response is a slow nod, and then he goes quiet in a way that’s rare for him. It feels like an eternity of sitting and eating in silence before either of you says another word.
The conversation eventually picks back up again, and when it does, you try to tell yourself you’re just imagining that it’s slightly more stilted than before.
As you and Jungkook trail after the rest of your coworkers on the walk back to the office, you trade a few more polite questions about work-related projects, and then you fall quiet again, seemingly out of things to say. It’s a few stretches of city blocks, and then you see Jungkook’s head tip up, and he outright sniffs the air.
You can’t help but laugh a little, mostly because he looks like a dog, and then you smell it too. The unmistakable aroma coming from the street cart up ahead. You smile softly to yourself as you both slow to pass it, ogling rice cakes and fish cakes simmering in a pan of spicy sauce.
“God,” Jungkook groans appreciatively. “I would absolutely destroy some tteokbokki right now if I didn’t think I’d literally explode.”
“This is what happens when you help yourself to thirds every time you eat,” you chide him with a giggle, and the two of you nod to the vendor before you continue on toward the office. You only take a few more steps before you falter, and Jungkook turns back when he notices you’ve stopped.
“What’s up? Did you want to get some?”
You don’t know what makes you lie. “Uh, no. I, uh— I just realized, I think I left my scarf back at the restaurant. I’m gonna run back, but don’t worry about waiting for me. You’ve got work stuff.”
Jungkook shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “It’s cool, I can go with you.”
“No, that’s okay,” you say, firmly enough to make it very obvious you don’t want company. Maybe a little too firm, because Jungkook blinks, like he’s taken aback. Your stomach twists with a feeling that you imagine must be similar to having just kicked a puppy.
“Oh. Alright, well. I’ll see you later, then.” He pauses for a moment, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and then he turns on his heel and keeps walking in the direction of the office. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch Jungkook’s retreating form until he disappears down the city block.
You try not to overthink the interaction as you retrace your steps to the cart, then head back to the office with a takeout bag gripped in one hand. Thankfully you don’t have to fumble for another lie of an excuse, because you don’t run into Jungkook or anyone else in your straight shot from the entrance to the door of Yoongi’s lab. Quick as you can, you punch in the lock code, then push the handle down and slip inside.
It takes you a minute to process what you’re seeing as you shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s arms are folded on the desk in front of him, and he’s slumped forward, head buried in the crook of his elbow. For a brief moment your heart drops, and then you take a tentative step closer and realize there’s no shake or shudder to his shoulders, only the smooth rise and fall of deep, steady breathing.
He’s asleep.
You close the remaining distance until you can reach out and gently place a hand on his back. “Yoongi?”
He inhales sharply, and you quickly pull your hand away like you’ve just been burned. Tilting his head to one side, he cracks an eye open, mumbling something that sounds like a question but is otherwise fully incoherent.
“You fell asleep,” you say dumbly, and Yoongi slowly sits up with a grunt, his eyes squinting, clearly readjusting to the room around him. He leans back to stretch, and several places in his back and shoulders crack impressively loudly.
“Fuck,” he sighs, voice strained, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Why are you in here?”
“I brought you lunch,” you murmur, lifting the takeout bag for him to witness. He frowns at it, then up at you, like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.
“Thanks,” he eventually manages. “You can just leave it. I’m nowhere near done with all my—”
You cut him off before he can finish. “Go home, Yoongi.”
The look of slack-jawed confusion on his face is enough to nearly make you laugh. “What?”
“I said go home.”
His brow furrows. “You’re not my boss.”
“I’m not saying it as your boss,” you sigh. “But you need to eat, and sleep. This isn’t healthy.”
Yoongi huffs a little, exasperated. “That’s easy for you to say, but I have so much stupid admin stuff to get caught up on.” He gestures halfheartedly to a massive to-do list pulled up on his monitor, one he’s barely a quarter of the way through.
Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you hum, feigning thought. “If only you had someone who could help with that. Some kind of… Admin Bitch.”
The comment must catch him off-guard, because he outright laughs. “You know, I still haven’t changed your contact name.”
You quirk an eyebrow. “Then you should go before I question why I’m being nice to you. I���ll leave a note for tomorrow with anything I can’t figure out for myself. Assuming you trust my ability to do my job.” As if to indicate that you are no longer open to discussing the subject, you shove the takeout bag into Yoongi’s chest, and he wraps both arms around it, still looking entirely dazed.
But to your surprise, he doesn’t fight you, just slowly rolls his desk chair back and gets to his feet. You watch carefully as he shifts the bag of food to one arm, then grabs his work bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I, uh— thanks.”
You wave a hand as if to tell him not to mention it, and then you plop down into his chair and get to work, barely phased by the sound of the door clicking shut when he leaves.
~*~
As you settle in at your desk the next morning, it dawns on you how close the Grammys have started to loom, made abundantly clear by the overwhelming amount of prep you find yourself launched into. You don’t think you look up from your screen once, not even bothering to greet coworkers as they push through the doors, until the muted tap of something being placed on your desk startles you.
You see the cup of coffee first, and when you glance up expecting a pair of Baby Star Candy eyes, you instead find Yoongi hovering at the edge of your desk, like he’s not sure what he’s doing there. You make zero attempts to hide your total shock at whatever the fuck is going on in this moment.
He looks— good. Fresh-faced, like he managed to actually get some sleep, a little less gaunt. Even his expression seems weirdly pleasant, something you might mistake for happiness if you thought that he was capable of such an emotion.
There’s a crinkling sound, and when he gently sets a small wax paper pastry bag on your desk next to the coffee, you’re sure that you’ve overslept your alarm and are in the depths of a wild, ridiculous dream. It’s the only way any of this can be happening.
You blink up at him as you hesitantly reach for the bag, like you’re scared it might bite you.
“It’s maple,” he says as you slowly pick it up and investigate the contents. It’s still warm. “I asked for the most disgustingly sweet thing they had.”
Too overwhelmed, you set the pastry bag back down wordlessly. As you do, it’s only now that your eyes focus on the letters “AB” sketched in black marker on the side of the coffee cup, where a barista would typically write your name.
Yoongi’s eyes must be watching yours carefully, because he huffs a laugh as he sees realization dawn over your face. “Making them actually write Admin Bitch seemed a bit much.”
You can’t manage to find a laugh to match his, can only sit there, shell-shocked. When you look up again, he’s already walking backwards in the direction of his lab, but his eyes are still on you. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone, but I don’t think they’d believe you even if you did.”
And just like that, he’s gone again.
You remain unconvinced that both of his gifts aren’t secretly poisoned, but your desperate need for a fresh hit of caffeine overwhelms any other emotion. Carefully, you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip— it’s not scalding, but still perfectly hot, and your eyes widen as the flavor hits your tongue.
Two cream, three sugar. Exactly how you like it.
Before you’ve even had time to swallow, Jungkook is suddenly rounding the corner from the opposite direction, and you have to make a conscious effort not to choke.
He slows to a stop, and you watch him take in the coffee cup clutched between your hands like a lifeline. “Hey! You seriously snuck out for coffee without me?” His tone is mock-hurt, but you can’t help wondering whether it’s entirely put on.
Your gaze drops back down to the cup. “Sorry, JK. Someone else picked this up for me.”
Jungkook doesn’t pry into your vague statement, but a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that maybe he doesn’t have to.
~*~
It’s Saturday night by the time your schedule aligns with Jimin’s for a night out, and given that it’s the last time you’ll see him before you leave for Los Angeles, you manage to guilt him into driving. The bar you choose is a shitty dive nowhere near your office, where you’re certain you won’t have to worry about any accidental encounters.
Or any encounters at all, as it turns out. The place is dead.
“I think we’re single-handedly keeping them open tonight,” Jimin murmurs with a grimace as you grab a pair of stools.
The bartender pours you each two shots and two beers, then returns to their side work at the far end of the bar in an apparent attempt to give the two of you some privacy.
It’s only once you’ve had your first shot and are halfway through the accompanying beer that you’re able to speak the words aloud: “I had sex in the office again.”
Jimin glances up at the ceiling, as if asking for strength, and you recount the full story mostly to the wood grain in front of you, unable to look your best friend in the face while you catch him up on everything.
When you fill in the final details, Jimin nearly spits his drink out. “Suga really hatefucked you on a conference table?! I need to go buy some lottery tickets.” He throws back his second shot, and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows it down. “God, I love being psychic.”
You shove an elbow into his ribs. “Listen. I don’t know what’s fucking happening anymore, Mochi. Sometimes he’s insufferable but now sometimes we apparently mildly tolerate and are even nice to each other. Like, coffee and a pastry nice.” You smack your hand on the bar for emphasis as you repeat the words. “Coffee. And. A. Pastry.”
“So,” Jimin clasps his hands together as he surveys you. There’s a look on his face like he’s clearly expecting you to draw some conclusion from all of this, but it seems to have entirely escaped you. “What have we learned?”
You drop your head down on the bar with a resounding thud. “We’ve learned that Min Yoongi is ruining my life.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Voice muffled slightly, you groan. “Don’t make me say it louder.”
“No, what did you just say?” You lift your head up to look at him, and his expression is deadly serious, his eyes sharp and focused. “Min Yoongi? I know Min Yoongi.”
You give him the same look right back. “You what?”
“We were trainees together. I— wait, Min Yoongi is Suga the producer? Really?!” He scrambles for his phone and you just sit there, dumbfounded.
“How are you only now telling me that you know him?”
Jimin glances up, incredulous. “Um, hi, because you literally never fucking told me Suga is Min Yoongi?”
You roll your eyes. “Please, surely I have said his name to you at least once.”
It’s Jimin’s turn to smack the bar, and he does so loudly. “Run those tapes back, ma’am! We have always called him Suga.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never even Googled him?!”
He makes a face like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. “I am an adult, with a job and a very needy boyfriend. Your chaos already monopolizes too much of my time.”
The search on his phone loads, and you watch Jimin tap and scroll slowly, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Min Yoongi is Suga. Wow. I think I need a minute.”
Jimin’s earlier words finally catch up to you, and you finish the last of your first beer before you dare ask the question. “Yoongi was really a trainee?”
“He was,” Jimin confirms, gaze still locked on his phone. “Obviously he didn’t debut either. He left a few months before I did. I always wondered what happened to him.”
“What was he like?” Your voice comes out soft, a little unsure.
His eyes widen, staring off unfocused as he searches through his memory. “I mean, we weren’t super close, he’s a few years older than me. But it doesn’t sound like that much has changed if I think about what you’ve told me. He was quiet, not too personable. Worked hard. Didn’t really seem that close to anybody. I think maybe he had a difficult home life?”
Your stomach drops a little as Jimin pauses, choosing his words. “Like I guess his parents weren’t very supportive. So I think he felt like he had a lot to prove, and had really high standards for himself. But he obviously loved music. Makes sense that he ended up a producer. It’s like me and dance, right?” He picks up his beer with a shrug, staring thoughtfully down at the amber liquid. “Man. Those years were tough.”
As Jimin takes a sip of his drink and then continues on about his trainee days, your head starts to spin. You throw back your second shot in hopes that it might help.
You wish you could go back and unlearn this information, unsay the name Min Yoongi. Because you don’t want to think about him. You don’t want to know that Min Yoongi gets nervous about public speaking, that he likes his coffee iced, that he can’t say no to street cart tteokbokki, that he used to be a trainee, that he worked an unpaid job in Daegu, that he had a disapproving family and never felt good enough and maybe still doesn’t.
Min Yoongi was so simple when you first met him, back when he was a two-dimensional character, the antagonist of your TV show life, your enemy. But now he’s none of those things. He’s a real, flawed, complicated person, and your feelings for him are confusing and overwhelming. And you deeply do not want to think about your feelings. You don’t want to examine them, don’t want to hold them up to the light for fear of what you might find. It occurs to you in this moment that you don’t want to think about anything at all.
With a sigh, you scoot your chair back from the bar, then get to your feet.
“What are you doing?” Jimin interrupts himself to ask as you dig your phone out of your purse.
You’re doing the only thing that makes sense. “I’m gonna go fuck him,” you say, resigned, and then you make your way out the front door of the bar as you pull up Yoongi’s contact in your phone.
It’s only as the line starts to ring that you realize you don’t exactly have a location in mind. Sex in a bar bathroom is an experience you have no desire to repeat, and the thought of Yoongi seeing your shithole apartment makes your drinks threaten a return appearance.
You’re starting to consider that maybe you should just hang up and forget the idea entirely when Yoongi’s voice startles you.
“Uh, hi?”
“Hi.”
There’s a pause as you realize you didn’t actually plan how to have this conversation, and then you and Yoongi speak in tandem.
“I was just wondering—”
“Is there a reason you—”
“Shut up,” you snap, agitated by your own awkwardness. “What are you doing right now?”
Yoongi laughs darkly into the phone. “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”
“Answer the question, asshole.”
There’s a slight shifting sound, like he’s making himself comfortable. “Nothing. Drinking.”
“Great, same here.”
Another pause, and you swear you can hear Yoongi slow blinking, can see the stupid smirk on his face when you close your eyes. “Would you like to come over, then?”
“Yes,” you answer, trying to sound more confident than you feel, and then you falter slightly. You’re not about to ask Jimin to drive you— you don’t trust him enough to stay in the car and behave, not when he’s been drinking. “Uh, are you by any chance near a bus stop?”
Yoongi doesn’t even try to suppress his snort of laughter. “I’m not. But I can send a car.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you say quickly, trying to think. “I can figure something—”
“Please,” Yoongi cuts you off. “If you’re really calling me begging to get fucked, the least I can do is provide the transportation. Just send me your location.”
“Fine,” you concede, and your voice comes out harsh. “But to be clear, I am not begging.”
He hums a low note, like he’s thinking it over. “Not yet,” he ultimately responds. “See you soon.”
You swallow hard as the call disconnects.
The time it takes for the car to arrive is just enough for you to slip back inside and finish your beer, and Jimin’s eyes narrow with frustration when you’re unable to explain yourself.
“Didn’t you just complain that this man was ruining your life?”
“Yes,” you retort. “And then I thought it over, and I decided that’s my job.” Your phone buzzes with the notification that the car is outside, and you quickly swig the last of your drink. “Bye.”
Jimin’s face twists like he’s holding further commentary back, which you didn’t think he was capable of doing without combusting. “Alright, babygirl,” he finally sighs, defeated. “Call me if you need saving.”
“I always do,” you deadpan as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.
~*~
Yoongi doesn’t say anything when he opens the door for you, just nods his head to the interior of his apartment to gesture you inside, letting the door swing wider so you can step past him. He shuts it again as you slip your heels off, and it takes you a second to adjust to your true height difference, the fact that you have to look a little further up to meet his gaze now.
“Want a drink?” is his delayed greeting, and you shrug.
“Yeah, okay. Just whatever you’re having.”
Without another word, he turns and heads down the hallway, and you follow after him, taking in your surroundings as you move further inside. It’s only now that it occurs to you how rich he must be. His place is identical to any one of the swanky, million-dollar Hannam apartments of which you’ve spent thousands of hours watching YouTube tours. You try to keep your expression neutral as you follow him into the living room, but it’s hard not to be impressed.
Yoongi crosses the room to a mini-bar, built into the far wall and softly backlit with inset LEDs. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you hover nervously for a second, then finally choose to drop down onto the large, L-shaped couch, setting your purse on the floor next to you.
“Thoughts—” When Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, you start a little, not expecting it. “—on single malt whiskey?” He turns over his shoulder, and you shrug back at him.
“Never met one I didn’t like.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up, just barely. “Alright.” You watch as he grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf, coating the bottom of a glass with the amber liquid inside, then just barely topping up what must be his own drink. He crosses back to the couch, hands you yours, then drops down a respectable distance away from you with a sigh of effort.
The atmosphere is certainly different from what you’d expected, and Yoongi must be able to tell you’re a little on edge, not sure what to do or why you thought coming here was a good idea.
He glances over at you as he swirls the contents of his glass. “Not feeling up for much small talk tonight. Sorry.”
“That’s fine,” you say quickly. “We don’t have to talk.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, you grit your teeth in anticipation of the smug smile, the cocky smirk at your unintended double meaning, but it never comes. Yoongi stays just as he is, slouched forward, his eyes unfocused, like he’s got a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once.
You turn sideways on the couch so you can look over the back of it and out of the large picture window behind you, where the city is alive in a blur of light and color, bracketed by the dark swath of the Han River.
Yoongi’s whiskey is strong but smooth, tastes like the bottle probably cost more than the entire bar-tab you and Jimin rang up tonight, and you sip it slowly. The thought of your best friend sparks something in your mind— you find yourself speaking again in spite of your previous statement.
“I just found out that you know my best friend. Park Jimin.”
At this, Yoongi looks up, clearly stunned. “No shit?” You nod, taking another pull from your drink, and he shakes his head. “I haven’t heard that name in years. How is he?”
“He’s good,” you murmur, the sharp taste of alcohol lingering on the back of your tongue. “He’s really good. He actually just performed in the concert I took Jungkook to.”
Yoongi pauses, glass halfway to his lips. “What group is he in? For someone in the industry I am atrocious at keeping up with this shit.”
“Oh, he’s not, he’s just a back-up dancer now. He never debuted.”
Yoongi nods slowly. “Well. Makes two of us.”
Your chest starts to tighten a little— you’re weirdly nervous to talk to him about this. It feels like uncharted territory. “I can’t believe you were a trainee.”
He leans back, resting his free arm over the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly. “I can’t either, most days. It was a long time ago. Feels like it happened to somebody else.”
Torn between deep curiosity and not wanting to pry, you stare down at the liquid swirling in your glass and leave it up to Yoongi. To your surprise, he keeps talking.
“So what did Jimin tell you about me?”
The unexpected question makes you laugh a little. “Uh… I don’t know. Said you sound like you’re still the same as you were back then. Keeping to yourself and working a lot.”
You don’t know if you should repeat everything, but the liquor loosens your tongue. “He said your parents weren’t very supportive.”
You glance up to see Yoongi shake his head, matter-of-fact. “They were not. So you can imagine how well they took it when I quit.” Your heart sinks at the thought. “Probably put a chip on my shoulder, if I want to be introspective about it. Explains the workaholic tendencies, maybe.”
He takes a longer sip of his drink this time, chasing his swallow with a grimace as he stares at the floor. “It’s funny. I always feel like I have to do better, even now. I get obsessed with work because it’s better than being depressed. And most of the time it feels like there’s nothing else to do anyway. I just work myself to death because it’s my only reason to stay alive.”
Your stomach drops sharply, and you can’t help but look over at him as he continues, feeling thoroughly unprepared for this sudden insight into the inner workings of Min Yoongi.
“It doesn’t even matter what milestones I hit, the fame, the fortune, whatever. I’m going to the fucking Grammys next week and it still doesn’t feel good enough.” His eyes flicker up to find yours, and his voice is quieter now. “Even if I win, I know it won’t. How sad is that?”
“You sound like my dad,” you mutter into your glass, and then your gaze snaps back to Yoongi as you realize what you’ve just said.
He looks as surprised as you feel, and you steady yourself as you take a swig of your drink and swallow it down. Fuck it. If he can overshare, so can you. “Work always came first, before family, before everything. And you know what happened? He dropped dead in his office before he even turned fifty. They said it was probably stress.”
There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to interrupt you.
“It makes me so mad,” you say, and you will yourself not to get emotional, your grip on your drink tightening slightly. “Because he worked so fucking hard thinking that once he got to a certain place, he’d be happy. Just a little more, then he could relax. But he never got there. He worked non-stop his whole life and then he fucking died. That’s it.
“And you know what’s really fucked up?” You don’t wait for Yoongi to respond— you can’t stop it all from coming out now, like a tap turned on high.
“People say grief makes you resilient, that it makes you stronger, or kinder, that we go through these things and they’re hard but you learn from them and grow or whatever the fuck. And I don’t feel like any of that shit is true for me. My dad died, and I just got worse.” A self-deprecating laugh flutters out around your words. “I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I make terrible choices. I deeply cannot fucking stand myself, if I’m honest with you. Jimin is like the one friend I still keep in touch with who knew me when my dad was alive, because everyone else just… didn’t know what to do with me. And I don’t blame them.
“And it makes me feel like such a fucking asshole, because he died, and I’m sitting here complaining about me. It’s like I don’t even miss him as much as I just miss… the way things used to be. The person I used to be.” You let yourself take a breath, but the final thought, the part you don’t usually say out loud, slips out with it. “It’s like she died, too.”
There’s a long pause that feels like an eternity, and you realize your heart is racing in your chest. You lean back against the couch with a sigh of frustration, too embarrassed at your own word vomit to do anything but stare at the stupidly high ceiling. You’re so wrapped up in the rush of saying it all— it’s been a while since you’ve gone this deep with anyone— that it takes you a second to notice that Yoongi is laughing softly.
“Wow. And here I thought you were just a slacker.”
The words make you glance over at him. You haven’t divulged these feelings to many people, but nearly everyone you’ve told has responded the same: awkward apologies, shitty words of affirmation you didn’t ask for, waxing poetic bullshit lies about how you’re not a bad person. A road paved with good intentions, things meant to console you that only make you want to scream.
But Yoongi gives you none of that. He just nods, like he understands.
“Well,” you counter, trying not to let the shock read on your face. “I thought you were just an asshole.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am an asshole. I’ll own that.” He smirks into his glass as he takes another sip of his drink. “Do you want to know something?”
“What?”
He suddenly pauses, like he’s not sure how to word it, like he maybe regrets asking the question at all. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so hesitant before. “You have to not make a big deal about it.”
“Okay,” you say simply. You’re willing to return the favor.
“The night I left the studio door unlocked, and there was the break-in,” Yoongi starts, his thumb fiddling with the ring on his index finger. Something twists in your stomach, an intuition you can’t explain that makes it immediately clear to you what he’s about to say. “I wasn’t thinking about locking up that night because I... was planning to kill myself.”
It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room, and you will yourself not to react, gripping your glass until your knuckles blanch. Your eyes drop to the floor as you try to process the weight of his words.
“But you didn’t,” you reply dumbly.
“No, I didn’t. I walked up and down the bridge over the river for a long time. Probably an hour, maybe more, I don’t know.” You look up to the window again, tracing the inkblot snake of the river in the distance.
“I thought about it, and then I decided to go home. I thought that maybe I could give it just one more day and see what happened. And then when I got to work the next day, I was in such deep shit about the break-in, I felt like everyone would blame themselves if I did it after that. Like they’d think they were too hard on me.” He laughs bitterly to himself. “Like I’m not always the one who is hardest on myself.”
“Yoongi,” you breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”
He shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything. It just feels nice to tell someone.”
There’s a heavy silence between you, and heat rushes to your face as the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”
He glances over at you, brows pinched together like he doesn’t believe you. “You hate me.”
“I do not!” The insistence in your voice surprises even you. In an attempt to ground yourself, you press your palm to the side of your drink and try to focus on the feeling, the cool surface against your flushed skin. “I mean, I definitely did. But now, I don’t know. Would I really be wasting my Saturday night here if I hated you?”
Yoongi pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, and you can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Look at me, you came over here to fuck and I turned it into a therapy session. Christ.”
With a final shake of his head, he downs the last of his drink in one swallow. “You want a tour?”
You follow Yoongi as he takes a winding path through the various rooms of his apartment, and you continue to sip at your drink, barely processing any of what he shows you. Your mind is still spinning from the conversation, and that paired with the cotton fuzz of strong liquor makes everything feel muted and far away.
As anticipated, the tour ends in his bedroom, which matches the rest of the place: sleek, minimally decorated, and bathed in the soft glow of inset strip lighting that runs the length of the ceiling.
When Yoongi sets his empty glass down on the dresser, you mirror him, then watch as he steps in to close the distance between you. As your eyes search his, you realize you’re once again caught between conflicting versions of Min Yoongi, still trying to reconcile the one you thought you knew with the person who just spilled his guts all over the living room floor. It feels impossible to hold the two of them together in your mind.
Up close, his smirk seems to soften. “You’re a lot shorter without those heels.”
Before you even understand what you’re doing, or why, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s only a split second, your lips barely brushing over his, and then you quickly pull away, struck by the reality of what you’ve just done.
“Shit,” you breathe, dropping your hands and taking a step back. You stumble slightly as a hot wave of shame rushes up in your chest. “Sorry, I just—”
You don’t get to finish the thought, because Yoongi’s touch is sliding over the curve of your waist, and then he’s dragging you back toward him until his mouth finds yours again. The taste of whiskey lingers on his soft lips as they move against yours— you can’t help but whimper a little at how hungrily he kisses you. Like he’s wanted to do it for a long time.
The idea overwhelms you, and you pull away from him again, your lips still ghosting over his. “Yoongi.” You try your best to sound firm when you say his name, pressing one hand against his chest as you look up at him. “This… can’t mean anything.”
You can feel the heat of his breath when he laughs softly. “It doesn’t have to. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”
Too desperate for his mouth to want to argue, you decide to let him win. “Okay,” you sigh. Your hand is already tangled in his long, dark hair by the time his lips meet yours again.
“Get on the bed,” Yoongi murmurs between kisses, and you do as he says.
Moving backwards, you crawl up toward the pillows while Yoongi crosses the room to hit a panel on the wall, dimming the soft lights overhead until they’re barely there. He comes back to join you, strong hands wordlessly guiding you to lay down beneath him.
It’s weird to not be rushing through this: to feel like you can take your time as he kisses you again, as you lick into his mouth to roll your tongue over his, as one of his hands starts to creep under your skirt to gently rub up and down the length of your thigh.
The motions of his hand push the fabric higher and higher, until it’s as far up as it can go, and he leans back, clearly not satisfied.
“Can I take this off?” he asks, and you nod, sitting up to help as he pulls your dress up over your head.
It occurs to you a beat too late that you’ve never been this naked in front of him before, and your heartbeat flutters. “You too,” you murmur, pinching gently at the hem of Yoongi’s t-shirt, and he smirks as he reaches one hand between his shoulder blades to tug it off entirely.
You take him in as he drops the shirt to his bedroom floor: he’s broad-shouldered in a way you’ve never noticed under all his baggy clothes, with firm definition in the muscles of his chest and arms, and there’s a flush of warm glow to his pale skin.
As you blink up at Yoongi, more than dazed, you realize his eyes are roaming over your body, too. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, and you resist the sudden urge to hide from his surveying gaze. “You have great tits.”
You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that, and the surprise of it makes you laugh.
“Just for that, I’ll let you see them,” you say, unable to keep the teasing edge out of your voice as you lean forward to reach behind your back. Your hands shake a little more than you’d like as you fumble to undo your bra and toss it off the side of the bed to join everything else.
Your nipples stiffen quickly in the cool air of his room, and when you lay back again, Yoongi covers your body with his, the movement paired with a groan that’s nearly a growl. You can’t hold back your own soft sounds as his lips and tongue move down your neck, and it occurs to you now that there’s so much that the two of you have never done before. So many steps you skipped.
Like the way Yoongi cups one of your breasts in his hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple to earn a louder whine from you. “Shit,” you gasp as he does it again, his mouth still trailing kisses between the valley of your breasts.
“God,” Yoongi hisses against your skin. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”
With his thumb continuing to work at one nipple, he takes the other into his mouth, and you can feel the way your arousal is starting to soak through your panties as he sucks firmly at the stiff peak. You arch up into him, and then he’s shifting to roll your nipple between his teeth and tug, and you can’t help it— you flinch and yelp beneath him, overwhelmed.
He quickly pulls his mouth off of you, eyes flashing up to find yours. “Sensitive?”
You nod, face flushing, embarrassed. “A little bit of teeth is okay. Too much hurts.”
“Okay,” Yoongi answers softly. He licks up the underside of your breast to pull the bud of it back into his mouth, and the swirl of his tongue there soothes like an apology. When he just barely grazes his teeth across the sensitive peak, it’s enough to make you keen, your eyes rolling back as they flutter closed.
“Oh, fuck, just like that.”
With a wet noise, he pulls off to switch sides, repeating the firm suction, the drag of his tongue, the slightest brush of teeth. His fingers pinch gently at your other nipple, made slick with his spit, and he keeps working you lazily, unhurried, until your body writhes underneath his.
“Yoongi—” You try to catch your breath, and you run a hand through his hair to pull his mouth off of you. His jaw is still dropped open slightly when he meets your gaze. “Touch me.”
His lips pull into a smug smile. “Told you you’d beg.”
Your grip on his hair tightens in response. “Not begging. Ordering.”
Yoongi tuts gently, like he’s disappointed. “I don’t follow orders, sweetheart.”
As much as his teasing irritates you, a twin smile to his spreads across your face. “I’ll kill you,” you murmur, releasing your grip as he shifts back onto his knees.
It gets harder to focus on your bloodlust when his palms run over the curve of your hips, then press between your legs to part your thighs. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he deadpans as his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties and he starts to drag the lace down your legs.
“That’s fucking dark,” you can’t help but laugh as you kick your underwear the rest of the way off.
Yoongi licks his lips, clearly distracted, and you spread yourself wider for him. “This pussy,” he grunts hoarsely, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gets so puffy when you want it. All tight inside, too.” He unexpectedly slaps the whole of his hand over your center, and you gasp, your hips jolting up.
You don’t even have time to respond before he’s pressing a finger into you, your cunt squeezing tight enough to reward him with an audible noise as he fucks it in and out. “Fuck,” you groan.
“You get this wet just from having your tits played with, huh?”
The thorough analysis makes you huff a laugh, because he’s not wrong, and it stutters into a moan when his thumb gently starts to circle your clit.
“God,” you manage to choke out, “you’re fucking chatty tonight.”
Yoongi smirks, and you’re not sure why until he speaks again, his voice now pinched in a clear imitation as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, is there somewhere you’d rather I put my mouth?”
Your jaw drops in disbelief as he repeats your own stupid tease from weeks ago back to you. “I’ve changed my mind,” you snap, sitting up a little, and Yoongi glances at you, already in the midst of settling between your spread thighs. “I do still hate you.”
“That’s fine,” he says with a shrug, and then he leans in to lick a thick, wet stripe up your slit. His mouth is immediately dizzying, and you drop your head back against the pillow, overwhelmed.
It’s another thing you’ve never done before, at least not with Min Yoongi. As he repeats the motion over and over, lazy long strokes where he drags his tongue from your entrance all the way up to circle your clit, you mentally kick yourself for every missed chance, every opportunity to have his mouth that you didn’t take.
“What the fuck,” you breathe.
Yoongi just barely pulls off of you, close enough that a string of your arousal is still joined to his lower lip when he speaks. “You’re not the only one with good head game here.”
He dives in again like he’s determined to immediately prove his point, and you shove your legs open wider as he sucks your clit into his mouth.
As much as you’d like to bruise his ego, it’s impossible to keep yourself from moaning when he pairs the firm suction with the press of his index finger back into your tight heat. As wet as he’s made you, he’s easily able to slide a second in beside it now, and your nails scratch helplessly over the sheets beneath you.
“Yoongi,” you gasp as he curls his digits to beckon inside you, stroking over your front wall and easily finding the spot that makes you gush. He does it again and again, like a button press, working up more and more arousal until you’re dripping down his wrist.
Even the way he hums against your pussy sounds like a smirk, but you’re too far gone to care. Yoongi starts to flick his tongue steadily over your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping into your g-spot, and you can feel the pressure in your core building, a band pulled tight enough to snap.
Your hips buck up toward his mouth in an overwhelmed reflex, and Yoongi’s free hand is immediately there like he was expecting it. His palm presses firmly to your lower abdomen to hold you down and keep you there, and even that feels good too, renders you entirely helpless to his mouth and his hands as he takes you apart.
“Fuck,” you moan, loud and unabashed now. “Fuck, yes, I’m—”
The feeling overtakes you before you can get another word out, and you nearly sob as your orgasm rips through you, your whole body straining hard against Yoongi’s strong hand as he pins you to the bed. The extra pressure on your core pushes a rush of fluid out of your cunt, enough to soak the sheets beneath you as your muscles contract around Yoongi’s fingers.
“Oh my god,” he doesn’t even pull away to groan, and the low vibration of the words against your throbbing clit makes your thighs tremble.
There’s a wet smack of his lips and tongue as he finally relents, the pace of his fingers slowing as he continues to work you through the aftershocks. You desperately try to remember how to breathe as you start to come down.
Yoongi is a fucking sight when he leans back to look up at you: long hair falling in his face, eyes dark with lust, lips and chin slick with your arousal. “Did you seriously just squirt?”
It’s been a long time since anyone has managed to make it happen, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed in a different way. Still recovering, you can barely get the words out. “Shut up.”
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘shut up’? It was hot,” Yoongi grunts, and you’re at least grateful that you don’t have to have the ‘it’s not pee’ conversation right now. He ducks his head down again as he withdraws his fingers, and his tongue drags up the crux of your thighs to chase a few stray droplets. You squirm, oversensitive, your legs nearly snapping shut around his neck, and he takes the cue to back off with a soft laugh.
You’re too spent to fight it when he starts to manhandle you a little, palms slipping under your ass to drag you further down the bed until your hips are flush with his, then encouraging your knees to pull up toward your chest. “Think you can do that on my cock?”
The question sparks something in your core, the first lick of a freshly lit flame, and you prop yourself up on your forearms to better meet his gaze. “Make me.”
Yoongi’s appreciative smile is nearly a snarl, and he shifts lower on the bed to quickly strip out of his pants and boxers. You watch as he starts to crawl back up your body, anticipation tightening in your core, and then a flash of realization crosses his face and he freezes.
“Fuck,” he swears, and your stomach drops.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot I’m out of condoms.” Your eyes widen as his gaze meets yours. “Do you have any?”
You shake your head. “Not with me.”
A muscle in his jaw works as he exhales a resigned sigh, and you reach out, one hand finding his bicep to stop him before he leaves. You want it too much, bad idea or not. “Just… fuck me anyway.”
His expression goes deadly serious, and there’s a long moment before he responds. “You’re sure?”
You swallow hard as you nod, your eyes searching his. “Just pull out, okay?” You hate yourself for saying the final word before it even leaves your lips. “Please.”
“Okay,” Yoongi repeats back to you, and his hands press to your thighs again to encourage your knees up as he positions himself between your legs. There’s a feeling humming in the space between your bodies, like the reality of the situation has settled over the both of you. The reckless abandon of the previous moment is gone, replaced with something slower, more hesitant. Heavier.
With your eyes fixed on his face, you feel it first: the weight and warmth of his cock grinding over your slit, sliding easily with how soaked you are. You look down to see it for yourself, flushed dark and hard enough to leak precum, trailing a glossy sheen over your folds as Yoongi guides it against you, one hand gripped firmly to the base. He teases the head of his dick over your clit and keeps it there, and you’re still sensitive enough to whimper at the feeling.
“Please,” you repeat, and he’s too focused to be smug about it. He just nods as he drags his cock back down to your entrance, then braces one hand against your thigh and starts to push in.
You exhale softly at the welcome stretch, familiar made new at the lack of anything between you. You can feel it all: the thick swell of the head of his cock as he eases you open, how he throbs gently as your walls squeeze around him, so tight that you can even feel the prominent veins that trace down his shaft.
You’re still wet and getting wetter from the way he fills you up entirely, your arousal drenching the length of him when he bottoms out with an audible slick sound. His cock twitches, buried to the hilt, and even that barely-there motion is enough to coax a breathy moan from you.
“Shit,” Yoongi laughs softly, and the tinge of humility to his voice makes you glance up at him again. “Not gonna be able to go that fast. Feels too good.”
“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just…”
The words won’t come. It would mean too much to say what you want, and this isn’t supposed to mean anything at all.
So you don’t say them: you just hook your arms over his shoulders and pull his mouth down to yours. “Just fuck me,” you murmur against his lips. He grunts a low note of appreciation as he kisses you, as he starts to drag his cock out of you just to fuck it back in again.
It’s shallow, it’s slow, it’s nothing like what you’re used to with Yoongi, but it’s good. Good enough to make your kisses sloppy when you trade open-mouthed breaths, good enough to make you tilt your head and slide the flat of your tongue over Yoongi’s unabashedly, like an earned reward.
He pushes your knees up a little more, thrusting deeper this time, and the new angle drags the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You whine at the heavy weight of him, the shudder that ripples through you in response, and he stays there, stroking steadily to rub that spot again and again until your eyes roll back in your head.
“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth.
“Shit,” he groans shakily, reaching one hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes. A few dark strands stick to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”
Your arousal coils hot and fast inside of you as he keeps thrusting, and you have to break away from kissing him to tip your head back on the pillow and moan. “Fuck, please don’t stop, I’m—”
It feels like the final second before your climax when Yoongi pulls out, sitting back on his knees between your spread legs with a low groan. The sudden loss of his cock makes your walls clench at nothing, and you whine, petulant. “Yoongi!”
“Sorry,” he mutters, breathless. “Almost came.” You glance up to see him squeezing at the base of his cock with one hand, his chest heaving with effort. Your hips tilt up toward him, jealous.
“I miss your cock,” you whine, fucked close enough to be shameless.
“You’ll get it,” he retorts, and then you feel three of his fingers press in to fill the space he left behind inside of you. “Want to make you come again first.”
You keen as he starts to pump them, wrist angled just right to meet your g-spot each time. “Oh fuck, Yoongi.” The arousal in your core aches as he fucks you open on his fingers, and you can hear how wet you are in the soaked squelch of your needy pussy, can feel it leaking down your thighs.
His thumb brushes over your clit with every upstroke of his hand, and it makes you gasp, your moans starting to pitch higher. “Harder, baby, please, I’m so close.”
Too lost in the feeling, you barely notice when Yoongi laughs a little, but he does as you ask, and the way he pounds into you is just enough to work you over the edge. Waves of pleasure rip through your body as you come for a second time, squirting a little on his sheets again, your thighs shaking violently.
“That’s it, there you go, fuck,” Yoongi groans appreciatively at the sight.
You’ve just barely made it past your peak, still shuddering all over, when Yoongi withdraws his fingers to shove his cock back in again, and you keen.
He thrusts like a man close to his own end, fast and hard, his breath coming in ragged pants of effort and pleasure. Your pussy pulses around him, squeezing like a vice, so swollen with sensitivity that it really does feel like he’s splitting you open every time he fucks into you.
You moan unabashedly now and cling to him all over, legs bracketing his snapping hips, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder, the other hand tangled in his hair. Your cunt throbs and gushes around him as he strokes, and it still feels like you’re coming: you can’t tell if it’s an intensely drawn-out second orgasm or if the hot stretch of his cock worked you seamlessly into a third.
When he finally pulls out, you drop back against the bed with an exhausted groan, every inch of you fucked into oblivion. You can barely focus your eyes to watch as Yoongi shoves his hips up to straddle yours, one hand working his cock until his release overtakes him.
He flattens both palms to the mattress as he starts to come, groaning softly and rocking his hips so that his cock grinds against your stomach. The head of his dick twitches visibly, leaking pulse after pulse of sticky gloss over your skin, and he smears his cock through it as he ruts against you. He keeps going, rolling his hips and rubbing the mess across your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent, until you’re both flushed and sticky all over.
“Holy fucking shit,” is all he can manage when he finally collapses down on the bed next to you.
You glance over at him and nod, trying to imply without speaking that the feeling is mutual. He meets your gaze, and you lay like that for several long minutes of silence as your breathing slows, eyes fixed on each other as your heartbeats race through the comedown.
It’s hard to believe that any part of tonight has been real, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
As the post-orgasm glow starts to settle, exhaustion hits you like a train. You groan, breaking the prolonged eye contact to throw an arm over your face, blocking out Yoongi’s bedroom with the crook of your elbow.
You’re not expecting it when he softly says your name, and something in your gut tells you that whatever’s coming isn’t good. You will yourself not to look back again, to stay as still as a statue when you answer him. “Hmm?”
“You know Jungkook is in love with you, right?”
The plan to not move goes out the window at his words. Your pulse spikes, and you drop your arm to look at him, your face twisted in confusion. “What?!”
Yoongi studies your expression for a second, then makes a small hum of surprise. “Interesting. I figured you were just trying to let him down easy.”
“I— what?”
“You really didn’t know?” He scoffs, and his tone is enough to instantly make you set your jaw. “It’s pretty obvious. It’s funny, I guess he’s sort of inadvertently responsible for all of this.”
That takes a second to sink in, and you blink. “How?”
Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, seemingly nonplussed. “Well, when he asked me for the code to my office, I figured he wanted to take you in there and fuck you.”
Hot blood rushes to your chest, and you sit up a little. “You talked to Jungkook about fucking me?”
“No.” Yoongi blinks. “This was before anything happened. I haven’t told him anything. It was just clear he liked you, even back then, because I have eyes. So I was trying to do him a favor. He’s a good kid.”
You squint, still trying to catch up. “Why would Jungkook fuck me in your office?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s the only door that locks. Sometimes you get desperate.” You swallow the immediate urge to argue when your brain unhelpfully reminds you that you have in fact fucked Yoongi at the office. Twice.
“But you know, I figured he’d wine you, dine you, all that romantic crap first. I’m sure he’s a very respectable sex on the third date kind of guy.” That all-too-familiar smirk is back when he glances over at you again. “I guess neither of us realized who we were dealing with.”
You open and close your mouth a few times before you can remember how to speak. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly not with your cum still on my stomach.”
Yoongi nods toward the en-suite. “There’s towels in there. Or you can shower if you want.”
Your head spins as you silently slip out of his bed, and you shut the bathroom door firmly behind you, wishing you could leave that entire conversation on the other side of it. Maybe his fancy shower will get hot enough to blast all the thoughts out of your brain, you reason, and it only takes a bit of fumbling with the knobs before you figure it out.
The water pressure is so much better than what you’re used to that you groan a little when you step under the spray. You turn in a semicircle, letting it beat down on your neck and shoulders as you close your eyes, willing the tension to melt out of your body. You really are exhausted, practically asleep on your feet, despite the way your mind is still racing.
You don’t know why you came here tonight. You don’t know what you thought would happen. You don’t know what makes you keep coming back to Yoongi, over and over, like a moth to a flame, like the definition of insanity. You don’t know why he opened up to you tonight, or why you decided to do the same— or what the fuck compelled him to say that Jungkook is in love with you. You don’t know if things are supposed to stay the same after tonight, or if they will be irrevocably different, and you don’t know which you’d even want.
You have no idea what you want, actually. Another drink would be nice.
The sound of the shower door opening startles you, pulling you up from your thought spiral, and your eyes snap open to see Yoongi shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he steps in to crowd you under the water, and you hate the way your heartbeat flutters when he’s close to you.
“What are you—” you try to ask, but you don’t get to finish the sentence before his hand cups your jaw and his mouth finds yours.
His kiss blots everything else from your brain, and in this moment, you’re grateful for it. You lean into him, letting him in deeper when his tongue traces your bottom lip, whimpering softly as his other hand presses to the small of your back to pull you closer.
You don’t know what he wants, either. Why he came in here. But you have a guess.
“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips. “I can’t again. I’m so tired.”
“It’s okay,” he answers softly, and then his mouth drags you back in like a riptide.
You don’t know how long you stay there like that, kissing him under the steam and the spray, but you’re breathless when you finally pull away to look up at him. Water droplets are twined through his long, dark hair, collecting delicately on his eyelashes, trailing down his neck and over the muscles of his chest.
“You can sleep here tonight, if you want,” Yoongi offers, and before you can even process the words, he’s stepping back to push the shower door open behind him, and then he’s gone.
With the glass fogged over completely from the heat of the water, and the white noise of the fan overhead, you have no concept of when he leaves the bathroom, or what else he might be doing. You just know you feel entirely alone.
After scrubbing yourself thoroughly with a washcloth that you lather in Yoongi’s soap, you emerge from the shower, grabbing a towel from the linen cabinet to wrap up in. It’s weird to smell like him, sandalwood and musk, somehow both comforting and alienating.
When you nudge open the door to his room again, it’s empty, and the inset lighting has been turned off entirely, the room bathed only in the glow of the bedside lamp that’s been switched on.
He’s left out one of his t-shirts for you, and you recognize it as one you’ve seen him in often at work. You remember Googling the label once out of curiosity and nearly passing out at your desk when you saw the three hundred dollar price tag. You pull it on over your head, then return to the bathroom to hang your towel up.
As you slip back into the bedroom, you can’t help but wonder where Yoongi’s disappeared off to, but you’re too exhausted to go looking for him.
Though you figure he’ll be in eventually, your heart still sinks a little as you pull back the covers and crawl into his bed. It feels so much bigger when you’re the only one in it. You decide to leave the lamp on, then turn over to press your cheek to the pillow, and the waves of sleep almost immediately pull you under.
You’re still alone when you wake up in the morning, the other side of the bed entirely undisturbed.
Blinking slowly, it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and then the night comes back to you piece by piece. The lamp on the nightstand is still on when you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.
Yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you push open Yoongi’s bedroom door and pad down the hallway, trying to make sense of things. You have to retrace your steps all the way back to the living room before you find him, curled up on his side on the couch with one arm tucked under his head, still sleeping soundly.
He looks smaller like this. More vulnerable, maybe.
You wonder if you should’ve asked him to join you in his bed, and you wonder why he didn’t. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you decide to let him rest.
You move through his apartment aimlessly, like a patron in a museum. Something cracks open inside of you as you allow yourself to take in his place undisturbed, and with it, what could be. The idea that a night spent here could feel normal. The two of you in the clearly well-used kitchen, how you might sit on the counter with a glass of wine while he cooks dinner. Talking about your days, about the past and the future. Sharing a life. Fucking and showering and falling asleep in his bed, tangled up together.
For something so close, it feels impossibly far away in the harsh light of morning. It feels like something meant for a much better person than you.
When you make it all the way back to his room, you peel your borrowed shirt off and drape it across his bed like you found it. You retrieve your clothes from last night off the floor and pull them back on.
Thankfully Yoongi chose to fall asleep on the far side of the couch, so when you re-enter the living room, you’re easily able to grab your purse where you set it down the night before without waking him. You slip your heels on in his entryway, then open the front door and shut it as quietly as you can behind you.
You fish your phone out of your bag and scroll until you find Jimin’s contact, then press it to your ear as the line starts to ring.
~*~
You don’t hear from Yoongi at all on Sunday, and you barely see him at work the next few days. You don’t know why it surprises you. It makes sense. You said that night had to mean nothing, you left in the morning without another word, and it’s not like you’ve made any effort to reach out since.
But nevertheless, hurt feelings sit heavy in the pit of your stomach, stinging like salt in an open wound. You’re angry that Yoongi seems to be acting like nothing even happened. You’re annoyed that you have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Los Angeles. And you’re pissed off that you have so much fucking work to do in preparation for a trip that’s all about him.
You keep your head down and just try to fucking survive. You stay silent in your meetings unless directly asked a question. You type furiously at your desk, forever behind on emails and late on promised deliverables.
The week passes by in a blur, and it doesn’t even occur to you what day it is until you find Jungkook waiting for you at your desk when you return from an afternoon meeting.
“Hi, Jungkook.” You try to say it gently, to not take your frustrations out on someone who didn’t even do anything. While you’ve made polite small talk all week, things certainly haven’t felt normal, and you can’t tell if he senses it too, or if you’re just letting Yoongi’s cryptic words plant imaginary strange vibes in your head.
To his credit, Jungkook seems unfazed. “It’s the last day before your trip!” he says brightly, and your eyes widen as you realize he’s right. “What’s the rest of your day look like?”
You take a seat at your desk and pull up your calendar to check, and he circles around to look with you. “That was thankfully my last meeting,” you respond. “Just getting back to my never-ending to-do list now.”
“Or…” Jungkook prompts, and you glance up to see him leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of your desk chair, his chin propped cutely in his hands. “You could not do that.”
You blink up at him. “And what would I be doing instead?”
“I was thinking, it’s been a while since we’ve had a walking meeting. Plus it’s actually nice out. So you should take a break.”
Glancing back at your to-do list sends a fresh wave of dread through you, and then you snap your laptop shut with a resigned sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
Not only could you use the break, but you want things with Jungkook to feel normal again, even if the weirdness is only in your head. Maybe this is what you need.
Down in the lobby, Jungkook holds the door for you, and when you step outside, you realize he’s right. It’s one of those clear-sky early spring days, warm enough out that it feels like the world is starting over, like everything is coming back to life. You can’t help but feel like you could use a fresh start, too.
Though you expect to be led somewhere with food, Jungkook takes a different route instead, and you follow him a few blocks over to the entrance of a nearby park. You end up side by side on a paved pedestrian path, the length of which is lined with trees that have only just begun to bud.
It’s quiet, save for the distant noise of the city, the rustle of nature, and the rush of the occasional cyclist whizzing past. You walk slowly as you chat about nothing of importance: work, music, his dogs.
Jungkook glances over at you during a moment’s pause, with a look on his face like there’s a question he’s been waiting to ask. “So how are you feeling about your trip?”
You can’t quite manage to keep your expression neutral, your eyes rolling like a reflex. “Whatever. I just want to get it over with.”
“Ah.” Jungkook nods, and you can see he’s biting back some reaction. “For some reason I thought you might be excited.”
“What do you mean?”
He just shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve been… different lately. About Suga. I thought maybe something was going on.” An uneasy feeling starts to wash over you.
“Nothing is going on with me and Yoongi,” you say, far too quickly. Jungkook glances at you, his brows pinched together slightly as if he’s unsure what to believe.
“Okay,” he says simply. You hope that’s the end of it, but then he keeps going. “That’s good. I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.”
Heat rushes into your face, caught somewhere between shame and anger. “Um, what does that mean?”
You grit your teeth when he just shrugs again. “I don’t know. He was such a jerk to you, and then suddenly it’s like you guys are hanging out and getting close and stuff—”
“We are not close,” you interject, and you hate how unsteady your voice sounds when you say it.
“Good,” Jungkook responds. “Because I thought maybe you might be, and it didn’t make any sense to me.”
Overwhelmed by his words, you come to a standstill on the pavement, and he makes it a few steps further before he realizes. As he turns back to face you, the words rush out before you can stop them. “I mean, I don’t see how it’s any of your business either way.”
Jungkook’s brow furrows again. “It’s my business because I care about you. He made you so miserable when you first started, so I don’t see how you could just forget about that and be into him, especially when you could…” He trails off and looks down, unwilling to finish the sentence.
“When I could what?” Another fucking shrug, and you can feel the rage inside you simmering now, threatening to boil over. Yoongi’s question comes back to haunt you— you know Jungkook is in love with you, right?— and the pieces start to slot together in front of you.
“When I could be into you?” you press him, taking an accusatory step closer. “Is that what you want to say?”
His gaze flits up to the trees above you, like he’s willing to look anywhere but your face. “No. I don’t know.”
The birdsong in the air has suddenly started to sound a lot more like screaming, and you have to suppress the urge to do the same. Instead, your voice comes out low and deadly serious. “You and I are friends, Jungkook. Just friends.”
“I know we are,” he says softly.
“Do you?” you snap back, vicious now. “Because it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” he responds automatically, in the same tone, and you scoff.
“Look me in my face and say it.” You take another step toward him, and his eyes meet yours. He’s silent long enough for you to understand the truth, and all at once, you feel like a fucking idiot.
“Let me make this clear to you,” you hiss. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. And I do not have to explain or justify them to anyone, including you, because you are not my fucking boyfriend.”
When you spit the final word, Jungkook flinches like you’ve slapped him, but you can’t stop now. You’re so angry, it feels like it’s eating you alive. “When I want your opinion, as my friend, I’ll ask for it. Understood?”
You’ve never seen him look at you the way he does now, his eyes dark, his face twisted into a near grimace. There’s a long pause, and his voice is stilted when he finally speaks. “Yeah. Sorry I brought it up.”
The two of you walk back to the office in total silence, and Jungkook doesn’t try to talk to you again.
~*~
It’s early enough to still be pitch black outside when Jimin pulls up to the curb of your terminal at Incheon Airport.
“Thanks again for driving.” You yawn around the words as you reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. When Jimin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, you groan at the affection, but he pays it no mind, dotting kisses over your hair that make you squirm.
“Love you, have fun. And be a slut!”
You roll your eyes as you manage to peel him off of you. “Bye, Baby Mochi.”
Slipping on a face mask, you push the door of his car open and climb out of the passenger seat. You swing open the trunk to grab your suitcase, then slam it shut again and step up onto the curb.
Making your way into the terminal, you dig your phone out of your bag to double-check the text from Yoongi, and then you glance up at the sign overhead to confirm you’re right where he said he’d be.
It takes a second for you to realize the person walking in your direction is Min Yoongi. The black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes is certainly not a bad look, but when paired with his black face mask, it makes him almost impossible to identify, or get a good read on. Rolling your suitcase ahead of you, you move toward him, and the two of you meet in the middle.
You wore sneakers today, so he still seems tall.
“Hi,” you say simply, a thousand different emotions swirling in your gut. You do your best to ignore them all.
Yoongi hums a wordless grunt back in response, then turns to face the already bustling security line. You mirror him, and for a moment the two of you just stay like that, like you’re standing firmly in the present and unsure of what might be waiting on the other side.
He gives a tired sigh. “Ready?” You’re surprised to learn he can speak this early in the morning.
“I guess so,” you answer.
Perfectly in sync, you both push your bags forward, stepping carefully toward a weekend that feels impossible to imagine.
chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine
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Hello, new followers!
Had a flurry of new folks start following in the last day or two, so welcome! I'm happy to have all of you here and I appreciate you following my blog. A few helpful things to know:
- Anons are temporarily turned off because I started getting flooded after GO 2 came out and became overwhelmed. Also dealing with some stressful RL stuff at the moment, so I've decided to keep Anons off a bit longer to preserve my sanity.
- A little bit about me: I first got into Good Omens/Michael/David in 2019 when season 1 was released, and have been immersed in all things GO ever since. I am a writer and have been writing fanfic for the better part of 25+ years. (Here is my AO3.) I can't draw to save my life, but writing and analysis is definitely a passion of mine (and you can find much of that in my #discourse tag).
- I use #ineffable husbands for all of my posts related to Aziraphale/Crowley, and #ineffable lovers for my posts related to Michael/David (specifically, shipping them).
- I sometimes address controversial topics on my blog, but I will never shy away from or refuse to publish Asks featuring opinions that are different from mine. I am happy to have folks disagree with me, so long as the discussion remains civil and free from personal attacks.
- You are welcome to send in Asks logged in, and/or my DMs are always open. I'm happy to chat with folks and answer any questions you have (time permitting, as I sometimes get busy with RL stuff/traveling for my work as a professional speaker).
...And I think that about covers it! Again, my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who has sent me such lovely messages and Asks/Anons and said kind words about my blog. You have made continuing to run this worthwhile, and I'm so grateful. Looking forward to sharing fun posts and thoughts on all things GO/Michael/David with you in the coming year ahead!
#personal post#thank you all you lovely people for being here#people can be awful sometimes#but then people can be wonderful too#i am so grateful for everyone who enjoys my MS/DT content as well#can't wait to flail with you all over Michael and David together#psa#<3
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Hello, my angel
My name is Witch
My pronouns are they/them (preferred) or she/her, and i'm a genderqueer lesbian
A mysterious force of nature. heart captured with the slightest hint of kindness.
Aquarius, INTJ, swiftie
@ wistfulenchantress on ao3, pinterest, instagram
i'm a minor (i'm chill with interacting with adults just don't be weird. like use common sense)
i am prob one of the most genuine people you will ever meet. if i say something i mean it, i just mean a lot of nice things. i promise i won't lie to you.
im so many fandoms. post a lot of marauders and stranger things, but i have so many others i would love to talk about so just drop me an ask!
not consistently online rn. i'm getting back to it, but still going through some stuff
poetry blog: @thewordsofwitch
side blog for community: @thosecommunitygays
check out "this one has a happy ending" my wip marauders fanfic on ao3. i have multiple fics, but this is my best one.
pinterest: https://pin.it/5LzIWEeGp
asks and messages are ALWAYS open to silliness, questions, vents, or literally anything.
my beautiful friends: @vintagetee13 @tequilaqueen @justiceforplutoo @picklerab23 @garden-of-runar @gildy-locks @no1-academic-weapon (and more)
super friend: @seekmemystar
PLEASE DO NOT: try to get information about where i'm from, who i am, etc. i do not want to meet you in person please don't make me say no. that crosses a boundary.
NO POLITICAL TALK i am not going to discuss my opinions beyond saying that this is a safe space for anybody and everybody, it is a judgement free zone. i am really triggered by pressure for my political opinions. please don't. i won't respond and i will probably cry. so, please don't.
PLEASE DO: talk to me, spam me, do literally anything else that is appropriate. i am always bored, so please never think you are annoying. anons make my day. one time someone just told me a cute fact about their day over anon and my heart exploded. anon asks always welcome <3
that's all about me. have an incredible day, love <3
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What do you think about Levi not mentioning Farlan and Isabel throughout the anime? They were literally his first real friends and family. Even in their deaths he was frustrated. But strangely we don't see any flashback scenes about them or Levi talking about them. It's obviously disturbing to me.
I have an Oc an underground childhood friend that I ship with Levi in particular and I didn't write their story down, but it makes me think that if my character was in danger or if she died with Farlan and Isabel or if she ended up dying long after their deaths, Levi would never remember her or talk about her, just like Farlan and Isabel's deaths, and that bothers me.
I know it's a bit strange to get this kind of analysis-like question since you are a Levi writer's blog. But since I love your writings and I really liked and found comfort in your answer to anon's question about whether Levi likes weak people. Because I am also a person who gets caught up in rumors and doubts whether Levi will like us or not haha.
Anyway, I don't want to deviate too much from the subject and make it too weird. You can answer question if you want.
Hi, sweetie! Oh, I see. Yes, I understand where you're coming from. First of all, I'd like to thank you for saying that you love my writing, and I'm so happy you found comfort in my answer about Levi and a "weak person." It's alright that we get lost in what the fandom discusses too frequently; it has happened to me too. And do not worry, rest assured, I don't find these "analysis questions" weird at all. Though my analysis will never be as good as my close friends', like my friend Sushi who used to have a meta-analysis blog of SnK or Cosmic! They are beyond amazing.
But to answer your question, before I get lost in my thoughts, long story short, Isayama is extremely bad at writing emotional connections in my humble opinion. In my personal group chat with my SnK close friends, we discuss this in great detail at least twice per week haha. In my opinion, Isayama is a writer or a storyteller who struggles to find a balance between keeping the plot going and creating a cohesive society and interrelationships between characters. I personally think that the story was always advancing so fast, full gas, no stop, that we hardly got any real details about the characters that made them human beyond their mere roles in the story.
I always use as an example, if one chapter in the manga or anime started with different panels of the veterans getting ready and sitting down all together for a meeting, we could have seen how their personal chambers were, how their interactions were not only between them aside the presence of the cadets, but we could have also seen how they confront early mornings, if they had paintings of loved ones, flowers on their desks, etc. It would have taken ... 5-10 pages at most, and we could have learned so much. It's something I even keep in mind while planning my own stories; I have an entire notebook of "backstory" for all the characters of Holy Ground, canon or not. So when the time comes around, I can drop little details of their lives here and there because... Let's be honest, has someone ever sat down next to you and said "here, let me tell you my whole life"? No, usually, you get to know someone organically, and that's also what, in my opinion, should happen in stories.
Now, going back to why Levi doesn't talk about Farlan and Isabel. Well, my best answer to you is, sadly, another question. Tell me one scene in the whole anime or manga where Levi was having some quality time with someone he felt comfortable enough to open up and talk about fond memories, be vulnerable, or even crack a joke about some silly hormonal stuff he did as a young man with Farlan. Tell me, I will wait... Haha.
Levi doesn't talk about Farlan or Isabel because he doesn't have screen time to talk about almost anything besides the plot moving haha. I would put my hands on a burning fire and swear that Farlan and Isabel are still extremely important to Levi! And so would be your OC! Don't let Isayama's literary limitations fence your story. That's my best advice; explore feelings that he didn't have the production time for (perhaps he wasn't allowed to write about it because of financial stuff) or he simply wasn't good at it.
Hope that helps!
Love ya!
#levi ackerman#aot#attack on titan#levi#snk#shingeki no kyojin#captain levi#levi aot#snk levi#attack on titans
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Touch of Your Love (Sergeant Hunter x GN!Reader)
This one shot does not contain spoilers for Season Two. Please do not discuss spoilers in reblogs/comments.
Notes/Warnings: Asexual reader, no smut. Reader has fears and anxieties from previous relationships, candid discussion of consent. Hunter is whipped for his partner. NSFW only for mentions of sex.
"Hunter, I don't want to have sex."
You were alone on the Marauder, for the first time in a long time, and the tension and yearning were so palpable they lingered on your tongue like punch. Hunter's arm was around your shoulders, pulling you so close you were almost on his lap. You'd seen the look in his eye before and braced yourself. The last time you told your partner that you weren't interested in sex, they tore your shirt throwing you out of their apartment, calling you a tease and a million other names. Several of your friends turned on you after that.
You weren't an idiot. You knew how sex worked, and how your body worked, but you just weren't interested in it. As much as you loved being in a relationship, you always dreaded getting too close because one way or another, it led to this moment, this conversation, and every time your throat ran dry and your chest felt tight and your knees started shaking.
Something in you told you that you were being ridiculous, that Hunter was different. You knew Hunter. Hunter wasn't any other partner you had before. Hunter wouldn't care. But all of these were met with an insistent "What if?"
"Then show me," Hunter said.
You blinked, unable to make your eyes meet his. He drew back, giving you space, but brought his hand to delicately tilt your chin to look at him.
"Show me how to love you in the way that you want to be loved."
Air flooded your lungs like you'd died and been brought back to life.
"You...you mean it?" Your lips trembled, and your eyes were beginning to sting.
"Oh Cyare, what's wrong?" He asked, trying to wipe away your tears before they were shed.
"No-nothing," You said, trying to smile and prove it to him, "You're just the first person to ever say that to me."
Hunter's eyes went wide, and then narrowed as his face contorted into a scowl for a mere half-second before he pushed his murderous thoughts aside.
"Can I hold you?" He asked, opening his arms.
"Yes, please!" You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his scarf--oh how you loved his scarf.
Once you had pushed away your tears and taken a couple deep breaths, you turned to kiss his cheek.
"You deserve better," He murmured kissing your forehead.
"I have better--the force sent me you, didn't it?" You asked.
Hunter chuckled, "And I thank the force every day."
You both laughed, nestled in your embrace for a moment. The tension had cleared, banished by your admission and Hunter's reassurance.
"Can I be honest?" Hunter asked. His chin rested atop your head as he looked up at the ceiling. You nodded against his chest.
"I've never had sex before. Never had the chance to. Is that weird?"
"Absolutely not," You assured him. You sat up, and placed a kiss on his nose for added measure.
Hunter hummed with pleasure, "Well, good. I think I'll want to, eventually, when the time is right. But I'm not in a hurry to try it out."
You sighed with relief. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."
You both sat back on the bench, enjoying a bit of personal space while still maintaining a fond embrace.
"So, how do I do it?"
"Do what? Sex?" You asked him.
"No," Hunter rolled his eyes, and you gave him a little shove for his insubordination.
"Everyone and everything always says that love is all about having sex and stuff. So how else do I show you that I love you?"
That was a very good question, and you could stand to ask it of him as well.
"Well, spending time together is a big one."
"Uh-huh," He nodded, "Is there anything specific we should do together?"
"Well, conversations about stuff like this is important, but it doesn't always have to be big things. Complaining about Cid or your brothers works for me."
"Really?" Hunter's eyes went big, like he'd just won the jackpot.
"Absolutely," You nodded, and squeezed his hand that was caressing your shoulder, "I want to hear about what bothers you. It's important to me that you trust me enough to share that kind of stuff with me.
"We can also watch holo-films, and cook together, there's training together, but that's something we already do. So we know we work really well as a team."
Hunter nodded, watching you intently. "And the physical touching, where are the boundaries? I don't want to cross them."
You had never thought about that before. Well, not in a planning-ahead stage. You had never realized how uncomfortable you were with the way someone touched you until they were already touching you.
"Not my butt," You said at last. You expected Hunter to laugh at the childish word, but he didn't. He waited for you to continue.
"And nothing below that either," You said slowly, trying to think your way through things.
"But I like when you put your arm around my waist," You gently took his hand that was around your shoulders, bringing it down against your back. Hunter's fingers fell into place in a gentle caress against your side, acknowledging the gift you were giving him.
You took a deep breath, "And I like it when you scratch my back, but maybe not all the time."
"Yeah, I guess it can get distracting," He admitted. You giggled. He'd absently started scratching your back during one of your briefings with Cid, and you were nearly asleep on your feet by the time he finished.
"Not my front, but my shoulders," You guided him along, Hunter's arm submitting to your directions as you brought it across your shoulders and down your arm to your fingertips, which you entwined with his.
"And I like it when we hold hands."
"I like it too, baby," He said. You giggled.
"As for my face, I guess that's mostly for kisses, but..." You took his free hand, splaying his fingers to show him the touches you liked. Cupping your chin and cheeks, tapping your nose, and pushing your hair back from your face so you could see.
Hunter sighed, giving you a dreamy look.
"I love you," He whispered.
"And I love you too," You echoed back.
"Now show me," you placed your hands in his, "How do I show you that I love you?"
He breathed deeply and slowly as he thought, gently bringing your hand to his cheek. He brought it back to his hair, letting you run your fingers through a few knots for him.
"I don't usually like it when people play with my hair, but with you I guess I know you're always gentle with it," He murmured, and you nodded. His face was flushed, almost embarrassed. It was kind of sweet.
"I promise I'll always be gentle with you," You said softly, twirling a single curl between your fingers.
Hunter smiled, and guided your hands down his back, "I wouldn't mind a back massage or two, so long as you're okay with it."
You nodded, "I'd love to."
He blushed and had to look away, breathing deeply.
"Hunter?" You debated if scooting closer was warranted at the moment, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah," He waved it off, "It just... How am I supposed to think straight when you say things like that?"
You bent over laughing, your forehead pressed into his shoulder. He littered the crown of your head with kisses, each one accompanied by a soft chuckle.
"What about your senses? How do you want me to show affection when you're overwhelmed?" You looked up at him, resting your chin on his shoulder.
Hunter thought for a moment.
"If you haven't showered recently, it's a non starter."
"Understood." You gave him a firm nod.
He sighed, leaning his head on top of yours. "In reality, it varies from time to time. Sometimes I want to be held during an episode, sometimes that makes it worse."
"So just ask each time?"
Hunter nodded. "Ask. More often than not, I'll say yes."
"Good to know," You turned to yawn, so he couldn't smell your post-dinner breath.
"Sounds like it's time for bed. I'm sorry if talking about this exhausted you," Hunter murmured.
You shook your head, jaw locked in a spectacular yawn, "A little, but it's a good kind of exhaustion."
You quickly tapped his shoulder to hold his attention. "Speaking of which--cuddling during naps, yes or no?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Hunter smiled down at you, bringing your hand to his lips for a soft kiss.
"Thank you for telling me about this, and talking with me about it."
"It wasn't too weird?" you asked.
"No," He stood from the chairs to grab you a blanket, "Why would it be?"
He tossed the blanket up in the air like a pizza, letting a tiny breeze stir your hair as he settled it around your legs.
You scooted back in your chair to get comfortable. "I guess....this stuff always seemed to come naturally in my past relationships. I never thought to talk it out before."
"Well let's hope you won't have to again." Hunter said with finality. He stood up, walking towards his bunk.
"Won't? Wait, what do you mean by that? You hope we won't have to do this again?"
Hunter stopped, hanging off the ladder to his bed and gave you a heart-melting smile, "My plan, cyar’ika, is that I get to have you forever and ever, guarding all the secrets to your heart and getting to be the one who always knows how best to love you."
He climbed into bed. leaving you sitting on the chair with your heart beating rapidly, and a million dreams swirling in your head.
You sat back in your chair, bringing your legs curled into your stomach, and brushing your fingers over your lips.
#lizart writes#sergeant hunter#hunter#tbb hunter#tbb hunter x reader#sergeant hunter x reader#tbb hunter x you#asexual reader#the bad batch x reader
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