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hoshigray · 3 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

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“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote.

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now.

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project.

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off.

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right?

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!”

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?”

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.”

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?”

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment.

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall.

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment.

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch.

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh. God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off.

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.”

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress.

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy.

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat.

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you.

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face.

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute.

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him.

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.”

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at.

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face.

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again.

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra.

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly.

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze.

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out.

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air.

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip.

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…”

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him.

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more.

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud.

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more.

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!”

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.”

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.”

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts.

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs.

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on.

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit.

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second.

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!”

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough.

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm.

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly.

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you.

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?”

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips.

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you.

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o’clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi.

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders.

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness.

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two.

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him.

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.”

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!”

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other.

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves.

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you.

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least — there might be something going on with you and Y/n?”

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

“Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy.

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said.

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you.

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two.

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome.

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him.

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter.

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry.

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

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scuderiahoney · 2 months

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🍓lighter // a strawberry wine blurb

In which Max makes the bad days better. bc an anon on cece’s blog was talking about strawberry wine max, and i missed him, and for the anon in my inbox, of course

You’re on your way to yet another Grand Prix, and you’ve had a no good, very bad, terrible week. The travel to get there hasn’t been much better- long flights with screaming children and even more rude adults. By the time you wander into the Red Bull garage, you’re on your last leg.

It’s Thursday night, so you’re not even supposed to be going to the track. The plan was for Max to meet you at the hotel after he was done for the day. But you got there and looked at the empty bed and felt that tight feeling in your chest, so you got a cab and headed to the track. Your pass gets you in just fine on any day. Nobody bats an eye at you as you wander through the sea of Red Bull shirts.

Nobody, that is, except for Max. Max, who spots you even though he’s surrounded by mechanics, even though GP is trying his best to keep his attention on whatever they’re talking about. He sees you and his eyes go wide, and he calls out your name, waving you over. The sea of people parts for you. He holds his arms out wide and pulls you in like a magnet.

“I thought you were going to the hotel,” he says.

You wrap your arms around him, afraid if you don’t he’ll pull away too fast. You shrug and keep your face buried in his chest and will back the tears that fill your eyes. This is what you needed. This is why you’re here.

“Missed you,” you say.

He pries you away from his chest. You blink up at him, knowing your eyes are red rimmed and tired. He frowns and squeezes your shoulders. The way his fingers dig into your muscles melts just a bit of the tension away. Things feel a little less heavy.

“What is it, love?” He asks, brows knit together.

“It can wait,” you tell him.

He turns over his shoulder to GP. “Five minutes.”

“Three,” GP counters.

Max rolls his eyes, throws his arm around your shoulders, and walks away towards his driver room with you in tow. “For that, I will make it ten minutes,” he mutters.

“Max, I-“ you try.

He pulls you into the room and closes the door behind the two of you. Then he pulls you back into his arms. He holds on tight, the way he always does when you’re feeling overwhelmed, like he can squeeze it out of you. It actually works, at least a little bit.

“Talk to me?” He asks.

“You have meetings. It can wait,” you repeat.

“No it can’t. You came here,” he says. “Instead of waiting at the hotel. That doesn’t sound like it can wait.”

“I needed to see you,” you admit. “Had a shit week and a shitty time getting here and then I got to the room and it felt so empty and… yeah. Sorry. I know you’re busy.”

Max hums and walks the two of you over to the little couch. He sits down first and pulls you right into his lap. He wraps his arms around your middle and brings you to lean your back against his chest. You can’t help but settle into him, trying to let the stress melt away. It’s not easy, but he makes it just a little bit more bearable.

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “I had been thinking all day about how much I couldn’t wait to see you. This is such a nice surprise.”

“Even if I’m…” you trail off, waving a hand at your teary face.

“Yes.” He kisses your temple, presses one hand to your side to pull you closer. “Because as much as I hate to see you sad or stressed, I love knowing that you trust me with it.”

You take a deep breath, then, and let it out in a long sigh. Max laughs softly and reaches for your hand. He wraps your fingers together and squeezes. There’s a knock on the door, and he groans loudly.

“Max,” GP says through the door. “The sooner we start…”

“The sooner we can leave, I know, I know,” he says. You muffle your laugh into his shoulder before he untangled himself and stands up. He leans down and cups your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to each of your cheeks.

“I’ll be back to get you as soon as I can, okay? And then we’ll go and eat a nice dinner in the room and have wine-“

“No wine,” you say. “You have to drive tomorrow.”

He frowns. “Then you will have wine, and tell me everything, okay?”

You smile softly and nod. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you,” he says back.

You fall asleep on the tiny couch and wake up to his attempt to carry you out to the car. You laugh and loop your arms around his neck, begging him to carry you all the way there. He does, because he loves you, he says. You know it’s true.

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lipstickmarks · 2 months

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Steven to the Rescue

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader Category: Hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff Warnings: none Content: Hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, kissing, making out in public, reader has a terrible horrible no good very bad week and steven is there for her, Steven’s love languages are acts of service and physical touch, reader getting princess treatment, reader is kinda corporate girlie coded, steven being smooth, steven can cook, steven might be slightly ooc bc he is my silly putty and i am bending him to my will

Steven loved his job. He loved going into work everyday to consume any and all things related to egyptology. It’s what makes him able to withstand the abuse from Donna– which is lessened now that he’s been promoted to tour guide and she technically isn’t his supervisor anymore. But today, he simply does not want to go.

He’s been watching you pace around his kitchen nervously for the past five minutes, checking your phone, watch, and laptop in quick succession. It had been… a less than stellar week for you.

Firstly, your job has been stressing you out by offloading duties onto you that weren’t in your job description because someone else had quit unexpectedly. Then, there was an error with your bank and your paycheck wasn’t deposited so you had to wait an extra 3 days to pay your bills. On top of it all, your phone service provider was having some sort of nationwide glitch so you barely had any service.

Not only did you have twice the workload but you weren’t getting any of your work emails on time. Plus, you had to be in constant contact with the bank to sort out their issue. It’s why you’d come over to Steven’s flat before work, to use his internet and hopefully get a better signal. Plus, you two wanted to see each other.

Steven had made some cranberry muffins and vegan egg bites for the two of you but your plate remained untouched while you paced around, waiting for a bar.

“Love,” Steven murmured, reaching out to grab your elbow. You looked up from the laptop you were cradling in your arms and Steven nearly sighed out loud at the sight of your eyes. Beautiful, but so so tired. The universe has been running his favorite person ragged and it hurt him to see you so downtrodden by life. “You really should eat something before work.”

You sighed and sat down your devices, trading them for a muffin. Steven cracked a smile at how your demeanor visibly changed once you took a bite. You always swore Steven put some kind of happy elixir into his food because it never failed to bring your spirits up. You gobbled up one muffin and reached for another.

“Thank you for breakfast.”

Steven leaned over and kissed the side of your forehead.

“You’re welcome, darling. Hate to see you so out of sorts.”

With you finally eating, Steven finished getting dressed. He had to go into work earlier than you did so he let you stay and finish doing what you needed to do. Before he left, he wrapped his arms around you and gave you a soft kiss.

“I’m off then, darling. You’ll be okay here?”

You gave him a reassuring nod as you swallowed a bite.

“Yeah, I’m gonna finish up in a little bit. I have a feeling today is going to be better.”

Steven beamed at you. He kissed you once, twice, three times and he knew if we went for a fourth, he’d cave and stay home with you.

“Right, I’d better get going before I lose my job again.” But Steven made no move to leave. He was staring at you with that dreamy look, the one that had been perpetually fixed on his face ever since you two started dating two months ago. Steven was the perfect boyfriend. Gentle, thoughtful, and he adored you so much.

“Go,” You told him. “I’ll be fine, really.”

Steven gave you one last squeeze before walking out the door.

—----------

Steven was finishing up a tour with a school field trip and he was buzzing from how well it went. Usually, preteens were their own unique breed of nasty– making inappropriate noises, laughing obnoxiously, and just generally being awful but a boy and girl had been asking tons of insightful questions, spurring Steven on and letting him flex his breadth of knowledge. And if there was any snark, the teacher shut it down expeditiously so Steven could continue.

It was probably the best tour he’d given since he started working there.

Plus, earlier in the morning, the curator had pulled him aside and said they were looking for someone to give virtual tours that they could record and post online. If he got it, it would mean a pay bump and more benefits.

Things were finally going his way!

The group was just starting to shuffle off for lunch when Steven spotted you, standing off to the side of the museum entrance. His whole face broke out into a grin and his heart skipped a beat, but that elation faded when he saw your eyes.

You had been crying.

As soon as everyone was gone, Steven crossed the room to you. You both reached for each other. His hands fell to your hips and you clutched his bicep.

“Love, what’s happened?”

You tried to smile but your eyes were bloodshot and puffy. You were holding back tears and you looked like you were on the precipice of a complete breakdown. Like if someone pricked you with a sewing needle, you’d pop.

When you spoke, it came out small and broken.

“I tried to call you but my phone—” Your voice died on the word and Steven’s grip tightened around you.

“Darling?”

“I came to ask for a favor. My apartment… they called me while I was at work. A pipe burst.” Your lip quivered. “All my stuff is ruined.”

Steven’s eyes widened.

“No.”

You nodded, fat tears spilling down your cheeks.

“They said it’s gonna take three weeks to fix it.” You started wringing your hands nervously and took a steadying breath before you spoke again. “I was hoping I could stay with you.”

Steven’s answer is an immediate yes.

“Absolutely, love. Anything you need.”

He couldn’t stand it anymore and he pulled you into a tight hug. Your head fell lamely against his chest and he felt your tears soaking through his shirt but he didn’t mind. Not one bit. You peered up at him, face hot and flushed with tears.

“You’re sure it won’t be a problem? We haven’t been dating that long and I don’t want it to be…” You floundered, searching for the right word but Steven knew exactly what you meant. He caught your hand with his and brought it up to kiss the back of it.

“It won’t be. It'll be like a slumber party, yeah? We’ll bake cookies and watch films. It’ll be fun.”

You nodded but Steven could tell you weren’t convinced. After the week you’d been having, what reason did you have to believe anything else was going to go right for you? You looked like you were a single moment away from shattering entirely.

“Do you want to leave now? I can take the rest of the day off. I can find someone to cover my afternoon tours.”

You shook your head and wiped your eyes.

“No. No, I have to go back to work. We have an important meeting.” You sniffed. Steven’s heart broke seeing you like this. You just looked so defeated.

Steven thought hard for a moment. How could he make this better for you? How could he lighten your load?

“How about this? I’ll pick you up after work. We’ll stop by your flat and get anything we need and then we’ll go back to mine, hm?” He brushed the falling hair out of your eyes. “We’ll get a takeaway, watch your favorite show, I’ll even let you braid my hair if you like.”

You chuckled a bit.

“Can we get dessert?”

Steven kissed your forehead.

“Anything you want, love.”

You nodded and a genuine smile returned to your face.

“Alright, well I better get back. I’m on my lunch break and it’s gonna take me 15 minutes to get back across town.”

Steven stopped you before you could leave.

“Darling, have you eaten lunch?”

You looked sheepish when you shook your head. Steven wouldn’t be having that. Wordlessly, he laced your fingertips with his and lead you down to the employee lockers. He opened up his where the only contents were a book of Egyptology, his spare glasses, a Tawaret funko pop, his lunch box, and a picture of you taped to the inside.

He pulled out his lunchbox and placed it in your arms.

“Steven, no.” You gasped. “I can’t take your lunch.”

You took his lunch.

No matter how much protesting you did, Steven insisted, waving off your concerns with a promise that he would get something from a food truck at lunch. He hailed a taxi for you before you could argue any further.

“Steven, I don’t have cab fare.” You said with wide eyes as the taxi pulled up. “Remember? My bank–”

He pulled out his own wallet and handed the driver his bank card.

“Can’t have my beautiful girlfriend going across town on public transport. Someone might steal you away from me.”

You flushed. Your stomach was doing happy flips from feeling so taken care of. Steven took his card back from the driver and tucked it away. You were full on crying now as you wrapped your arms around him and weeped into his chest.

“It’s alright, love.” He murmured in your ear.

You pulled back to kiss him. It was eager and much too sloppy to do in broad daylight on the steps of his place of work but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Thank you for going to all this trouble for me.” You mumbled as you pulled away.

“It’s no trouble at all, love.” He opened up the cab food for you and didn’t shut it until you were inside. “I’ll pick you up at your office at the end of the day, okay?”

You nodded and Steven leaned his head through the window to give you one last kiss.

“Last chance to play hooky with me for the rest of the day?”

You giggled and shook your head.

“Tempting, but no. I’ve got to go be a grownup.”

Steven smiled at you and mouthed a silent “okay.” He stepped back onto the curb and once the road was clear, your cab pulled out into the street.

Once Steven was out of view, you opened up his lunchbox. He had a habit of overpacking in case he was stuck on the bus for a while and needed a snack, which came in handry because you were starving. You ate his sandwich, chips, soda, half a bag of grapes, and a cookie.

At a red light, your driver turned back to you.

“Your boyfriend is so sweet!” She swooned.

“You don’t know the half of it.” You giggled. “This is his lunch.”

She gasped.

“Shut up! That is so cute! Oh my gosh, you’re so lucky.”

You grinned.

“Yeah. I am.”

—-----------

The rest of the afternoon went painfully slow for you.Thankfully, you got so busy with work that you temporarily forgot you were broke, without a phone, and temporarily homeless.

When it was finally time to go, you headed toward the front desk, intending to use the landline to call Steven but when you stepped into the hall, he was already there. You had to do a double take at first because you thought you might have been dreaming or seeing things. But no, this was real life.

Steven Grant, your nerdy, sweet, perfect boyfriend was chatting to your office receptionist with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“I never realized the museum was free! I always thought it cost money, that’s why I haven’t brought my kids.” The receptionist said, embroiled in a conversation with Steven.

“Loads of people think that, actually but yeah it’s free entry. It only costs money for tours. Though, if you’re bringing your little ones, I can’t recommend the tours enough. You get loads of extra information that just reading the pamphlets won’t give you. Not to toot my own horn but I give a pretty educational tour if I do say so myself.” Steven said with a relaxed smile. Ever since he’d been promoted to tour guide, he’s been so much more sure of himself. He’s still the goofy, sweet, bumbling nerd he always has been but the constant exposure to his passion has cushioned him in a cozy little bubble of Egyptology, vegan baking, and you. How could he not feel content?

“I think I’ll take them next weekend.” The receptionist said as you arrived at the desk. “I’d like a tour with you as well.” She looked up from scribbling the museum information on a Post-It note and saw you. “Oh, here you are, darling! Does this sweet man belong to you?”

Just as she asked, Steven held out the bouquet to you. Red roses, pink tulips, white calla lilies, and some hydrangeas to fill it out.

“He does.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. You took the bouquet from Steven and smelled the flowers. Steven gently pulled your purse strap off of your shoulder and took his lunch box out of your hands, holding them both and holding his free hand out for you.

“Are you ready, love? The cab’s waiting.”

Do not cry. Do not cry in your place of work. Do not cry because your boyfriend is being so sweet and you’ve never felt this cared for in your life.

To avoid your voice coming out high and squeaky, you nodded and took his outstretched hand. Bidding goodbye to the receptionist, he led you out the doors and into the cab, leading you home.

*****

It feels strange.

You’re not sure why. You’ve spent the night at Steven’s flat before, had dinner, read books, spent all night in his bed, but this felt different.

You were standing in Steven’s bathroom, hair damp from your shower. The second you got back to his flat, you’d made a beeline to the shower, eager to scrub all of your misfortune off. And you felt so strange, so out of place.

It was a little more intimate knowing that you’d be here for three entire weeks, which put a decent amount of pressure on a fairly new relationship. You and Steven would be seeing each other in undesirable states, have to give each other space, and somehow maintain the dynamic of your relationship despite these new circumstances.

You unloaded the grocery bag of toiletries that you picked up from your flat on the way here. Thankfully your hygiene essentials and skincare weren’t damaged. The same couldn’t be said for your clothes, though.

At least it was the weekend and you didn’t have to worry about outfits for work. You could just lounge around in the sweater and boxers Steven had given you, or nothing if you preferred. Steven certainly wouldn’t mind.

“Love?” Steven’s voice came through the bathroom door. “The food just got here. I’ll queue up a movie for us.”

“Alright.” You called out. “Be out in a minute.”

“Take your time, darling.”

What on Earth did you do to deserve that wonderful, wonderful man?

After changing, you stepped out into the living room where Steven had arranged the takeout boxes, poured you a glass of wine, and queued up “Tangled” on the TV.

“Steven…” You plopped down on the couch next to him. “We could’ve cooked, you didn’t have to order out for me. I don’t want you going to any trouble for me.”

Steven looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes that only love could be the catalyst for. He took your chin between his fingers and angled your face to meet his lips in a sweet, slow kiss.

“Darling, why would it be any trouble to care for you?”

And just like that, as quickly as a match burns out, all of your anxieties and apprehension faded away. You didn’t feel out of place in Steven’s flat or mistreated by the universe. Here, in Steven’s arms, you only felt loved.

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #moon knight #mr. knight #marvel #steven grant x you #oscar isaac #steven grant imagine #steven grant fanfiction

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seabirdtxt · 11 months

Note

It's been a while since I made a request to a blog, but I really enjoy your writing, and your AUs got my brain going with ideas (especially the Glitch AU). It has me thinking about how our favorite little Puppet boys would react to some of the... interesting hobbies I have: two of those being things like Doll making/repainting, and cosplaying/ general fantastical costuming.

I feel like both of these hobbies have the potential to lead to both hilarious situations and moments of being a bit... perturbed at best (especially doll making: the random assortment of doll limbs being places, or having naked dolls that are precariously hung from the ceiling to finish drying from paint jobs).

I do know that at least Kabukimono and Wanderer (Scara might have forgotten since he hadn't used the skill in a long time, and Wanderer likely relearned it) know how to sew, so the sewing part could be cute bonding time.

Could be platonic or romantic in nature: both would be fine. And also, fully understand it will probably take you time to get to this, of you even get to it at all. I just appreciate you taking the time to read this request~! Can't wait for your next bits of work: hope you have a wonderful day~!!! 💕💕💕💕

hey!! thanks so much for your request!! this was a funny idea bc i can't imagine any of scara's iterations being any good at collaboration but for all separate reasons lmao

I'm not too knowledgeable about doll making but hopefully you like this anyway :D i wrote it as a bit of a glitch!AU spinoff in my mind, but feel free to imagine any other scenarios these three clowns might come together for hahaha WC. 1.3k

----- ⚘ -----

When the three puppets were told not to enter your room and disturb your hobby workstation, this isn’t what they had in mind. Wanderer thought maybe you did something embarrassing as a hobby, Scaramouche thought it might be something potentially dangerous especially if you intended to keep it a secret from them, while Kabukimono was certain that you did some sort of artistic craft that you preferred to keep hidden until the end product was finished.

All three of them were right, in some way or another.

The three of them stand in your workshop, staring in horror at the dozens of separated doll components you’d strung up around the edges of the room. Scraps of tiny, doll-sized outfits were scattered around your desk, and a half-painted doll head was mounted on some sort of device in the middle of the chaos. The doll’s single painted eye watches their trespassing with silent judgment.

You’re glad you find them out so soon, and you have exactly three seconds to stop them from touching anything in the workshop.

“WhatareyouguysDOINGinhere?!” Nailed it.

Kabukimono leaps a vertical foot into the air out of fright at your sudden and shrill outburst, while the other two react in more subdued manners before turning around to face you, standing in the doorway behind them. Your arms are outstretched, palms forward, and you’re braced as though you’re anticipating some sort of impact.

“Don’t. Touch. Anything.” You warn. “Not all of these are dry, and if you smudge anything I’ll have to restart them.”

“Why do you have a bunch of dismembered doll corpses?” Scaramouche asks, jerking his thumb at the precariously hanging doll components.

“A seller in Inazuma asked me if I could help him finish a few dolls, since I told him I used to do it as a hobby back in my world.” You explain, not dropping your guarded position. “If any of you want to eat dinner this week, I suggest you step away from the dolls. Slowly.”

“Can you not call them that?” Kabukimono complains to Scara as the trio carefully shuffle out of your workshop. “They’re not corpses, they just haven’t been put together yet.”

“Well, they aren’t alive either, so what’s your point?”

“If you need some help completing them, I can pitch in.” The three of you look wide-eyed at Wanderer, who seems to immediately regret making the offer. He shrugs and looks away quickly. “Or not. Whatever.”

“I’d love some help,” you start hesitantly. “But what did you want to help with?”

“I can sew the clothes, I guess.”

Scaramouche’s nose wrinkles at this statement. “You can sew?”

“Why is that so surprising?” Wanderer counters, reaching into the inner lining of his haori and showing off a small, familiar cloth doll. Instantly, Kabukimono is patting himself down with a frantic expression, before pointing at Wanderer accusingly.

“Where did you get that?! I lost it a long time ago!”

“Heh, of course you did.” Wanderer smirks. “I made mine. What, are you telling me you never thought of making yourself a new one?”

“I was never good at doing the small stitches…” Kabukimono pouts, crossing his arms and eyeing the doll jealously.

“That aside,” Wanderer continues, turning to you. “I can help you finish the clothes for your project dolls. The faster you can finish them, the faster you can retrieve the commission for them, right?”

“That’s true, I guess,” you acquiesce, already running the math in your head. If you could get the commission for the dolls early, you might not have to budget as hard this week.

“I wanna help too!” Kabukimono declares, raising his hand (a bit redundantly, given he’s standing right next to you).

“Whatever,” Scaramouche snorts and waves dismissively as he begins to walk away. “If that’s what you nerds want to waste your time on, be my guest. As long as you don’t make it my problem, I don’t care what you do in your free time.”

“Party pooper,” you say, sticking out your tongue at his retreating back. “Well, what do you say, guys? Let’s get this bread?”

“Sure,” Wanderer nods, heading back into the workshop.

“What does bread have to do with dollmaking?” Kabukimono asks, even as he’s herded into the room by you.

“I’ll explain later, let’s finish up these bad boys first,” you promise, and the workshop door closes behind you.

----- ⚘ -----

“I made another sword!” Kabukimono declares, hurrying over to your workbench and showing off the tiny doll-sized sword he’d made. The fifth one, so far.

“That’s great, buddy!” You give him a pat, to his delight. “I think we’re okay on swords for now, though, d’you wanna try making something else this time?”

“Okay!”

Wanderer looks up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, a few pins sticking out of his mouth as he uses them to hold his patterns in place.

“Did your toymaker guy say what kinds of dolls he wanted?” He asks, holding up another utilitarian-looking outfit. “I can’t imagine this is what he had in mind when he asked for your help.”

“I mean, these are kind of edging into action figure territory,” you shrug. “But that’s probably fine. There’s a market out there for everything, nowadays.”

“Make a kimono that looks like the Shogun,” Kabukimono suggests, handing Wanderer some purple fabric. “Everybody likes the Shogun, right? She should be pretty popular.”

You and Wanderer both wince (for different reasons) at Kabukimono’s well-meant statement. However, Wanderer does take the purple fabric and sets it gently aside, and you wonder if he’ll take the suggestion after all.

“Are you losers done in here? I’m tired of doing the dishes for two days straight,” Scaramouche kicks the door in, uncaring of the delicate work you three are doing. Thankfully, the risky parts are all done, so nothing suffers any damage with his sudden entrance. Scara drops three bowls onto your workbench, each piled with fried rice and vegetables.

“Ha, you’d make a great housewife,” Wanderer snickers, earning himself a smack on the back of his head. “Ow.”

“Thank you!” Kabukimono takes his bowl and brings it to where he’s working on something, hopefully not another sword.

“Thanks,” you say as well, giving Scara a genuine smile. The puppet scowls and leaves as quickly as he’d come in.

“Don’t bother! It doesn’t benefit anyone if you drop dead from starvation, you know?” he sneers over his shoulder as he slams the door shut.

There’s silence as you three eat the lunch that was generously provided, stacking the bowls and putting them beside the door for when you guys go for your next break.

“I think I’m done after I finish this last outfit,” Wanderer sighs, holding up the unfinished garment. It looks hilarious in his hands, a cheerful pink and purple kimono in stark contrast to his deadpan expression.

“I’m almost done too!” Kabukimono adds, holding up his latest project: a doll-sized armor set. You smile gratefully at the both of them, even as you rub your temples with a sigh.

“Okay, great, I’ll put these together and bring them to the toymaker later this afternoon, then!” You say, hoping you sound enthusiastic about it. You think about the mismatched collection of outfits and sword accessories, wondering how you were going to sell this to your temporary employer.

----- ⚘ -----

As it turns out, if there’s one thing Inazumans like, it’s swordsmen. The toymaker looks in awe at your half dozen tiny samurai, handing you a pouch of mora with a pleased word of thanks.

As you’re headed back home, you get a telepathic message from Wanderer.

KABUKIMONO WANTS TO KNOW WHEN WE’RE GETTING MORE DOLLS.

‘He fired me, we’ll have to do something else,’ you think back, hoping you don’t sound too guilty in your head.

As much as you love these guys, you aren’t sure you could take another two days straight of having to collab with them. Hopefully buying some treats on the way home will placate them.

—– ⚘ —–

^ reader trying to juggle all three scara iterations without breaking any of the dolls LMAO

#genshin sagau #genshin self aware au #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin isekai #genshin scaramouche #sagau scaramouche #genshin wanderer #sagau wanderer #genshin kabukimono #sagau kabukimono #sagau x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #seabird.txt #seabird.inbox #littlemistermedley

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nom-nommmm1 · 1 month

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Hi Oli,

I love your Lords Of Chaos stories so much, so could you write one for me? :)

I was thinking about Pelle x Fem reader, where she's Euronymous sister, and they have to keep their relationship a secret.

Xoxo and also I just saw that you write for some niche fandoms I really love, I can't wait for more stories to come

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET - PELLE/DEAD

Masterlist + taglist

AHHH HI ANON!! I’m so happy you like my stories! You’ll never know how much it means to me 🫶 also I’ve had ‘dirty little secret’ by The All-American Rejects stuck in my head FOR A WEEK truly amazing timing anon. But anyways, I look forward to see you request other fandoms soon. Also I didn’t know if you wanted to make this a smut or fluff so I’m gonna do fluff bc I’ve been in such a fluffy mood lol, request another if you’d like smut and I’ll gladly do it ❤️

Content warning !!: sweet!pelle x fem!reader, fluff?? There’s a suggestive part butt they don’t actually do it, kissing, hair pulling

The doorbell rings as the tussling of keys can be heard from Euronymous’ hands. “I got it!” I shout, opening the door to see Pelle standing there awkwardly. “Hey Pelle! You’re just in time, we’re all about to head to the movies” I say looking at the blonde haired boy, his cheeks turning a slight pink tone. “Oh yea uhm..Euro texted me” he says avoiding my gaze. He shuffles away from the doorway, letting Euronymous and I out. We all proceed to get into Euros car. “So are Faust and the guys meeting us there?” Pelle asks after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of the radio.

“Yeah, they’re just gonna be a minute since traffic’s pretty bad on their side” Euronymous says, putting his foot to the gas as the light turns green. Pelle nods, staring out the window, looking around at all the passing cars. I look at Pelle, he looks..tired? “You alright?” I ask. The blonde looks at me, seeming somewhat surprised by me breaking the silence. “Yea I’m fine y/n” he says looking back out the window to avoid the conversation.

The car pulls into the movie theater parking lot, we all get out walking up to the register. “Hello, what movie are we seeing today folks?” The cashier asks politely. “Three tickets for the conjuring” Euronymous says, placing the money on the counter. “Of course, the concessions are inside” the cashier says handing us our tickets. Euronymous nods in acknowledgment, holding the door open for Pelle and I.

Walking up to the concessions counter Euro turns to us. “What do you guys want?” He asks pulling out a 20 dollar bill. “Popcorn and a slurpy?” I ask. “Sure sis, what about you Pelle?” He asks turning to the blonde. “Oh- I’m fine with whatever,” he says quickly, almost taken out of a trance. “Alright, you guys can sit down while I pay for this stuff” Euronymous says, pointing to the tables next to the bathrooms.

I nod walking over to the table, Pelle following close behind. We sit down. I look at Pelle, taking in his features as he refuses to look at me. “What’s wrong?” I ask putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Nothing y/n” he says moving out of my touch. Euronymous comes back with a handful of snacks. “Come help me get the rest guys” we all grab our own snacks and drinks. “Sorry you guys are going to have to share popcorn, I was two bucks short to get another” Euro said as we walked down to our designated auditorium. “It’s fine Euro” I say as we take our seats.

The theaters lights dim as music from the projector plays, the movie is finally starting after what feels like an hour of previews. I go to reach for the bag of popcorn accidentally putting my hand on Pelles, immediately pulling away. “Sorry” I say quickly before turning back to the movie. The movie continues on, the main character jumping out into the frame of the projector screen.

The audience chuckles as they say a joke as a criminal swings at them. I take a sip of my slurpy taking a brief glance at Pelle. I look away as I see his eyes look over to me. I lean to Euronymous, whispering in his ear. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be back” he nods as I get up from my seat, walking down the dimly lit movie theater stairs.

I walk into the bathroom, splashing water in my face, starting to sob into my hands. After a few minutes I hear slight knocking on the bathroom wall, a figure slowly coming into my line of vision. The figure comes closer to me, rubbing my back. “I’m sorry we have to do this” the figure says. “What..?” I ask looking up, at first confused but soon my confusion is clarified as I see Pelle, still there rubbing my back.

Pelle frowns, wiping my tears away. “I can’t stand to see you cry, but you know why we have to keep this a secret, right?” He asks coming closer to me. I nod looking into Pelles warm brown eyes. “I know, Euro won’t allow it” I reply sniffling. Pelles frown grows and he wraps his arms around me, putting his head in my neck giving me a small kiss.

“Just wait a little longer, we can convince him” Pelle says brushing my hair out of my face. I nod again looking at him glumly. “Hey it’s okay, I promise” he says smiling, waiting for me to smile back but I don’t. Pelle then puts me into a kiss, my eyes widen in shock but I kiss him back passionately. I wrap my arms around Pelles neck. Pelle kisses me harder, putting his hands on my waist, picking me up. “Pelle!” I yelp feeling his hands on my ass, lifting me up.

Pelle places me on the bathroom counter, pushing me against the mirror as his lips attack mine. “I missed this” he mumbles into my lips, coating them with our saliva. I giggle pulling onto Pelles hair. He moans in my mouth, biting my lip and touching up on my body. He’s about to undo his pants before we hear a voice of a staff member. “Get out of there before I call your mamas!!” The staff member screams banging her mop on the floor. Pelle and I bolt out of the bathroom making out to our movie auditorium. “Remember, keep this between us” Pelle says before opening the door for me.

“Of course” I say walking in. “Alright, I’m gonna wait out here for a few minutes so they don’t think anything” he says giving me a quick kiss before shutting the door, smiling.

SORRY FOR THE DELAY BBS IVE BEEN SUPER BUSY N THERES BEEN A BUNCH OF DRAMA W MY FRIENDS BUT IMMA TRY TO UPLOAD

Alt acc: @nom-nommmmworkspace

Taglist

╰┈➤@mxqlss @roseroseluvrr @bkaulitzz @adellaonly @m3tal-chick

#fluff #lords of chaos #nom nommmm1 #euronymous #jack kilmer #rory culkin #pelle ohlin fluff #pelle ohlin x reader #pelle x reader #pelle ohlin #pelle #lords of chaos x reader

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mouschiwrites · 7 months

Note

Hello, I was wondering if you could do like a fic about the future where Lloyd and fem reader are getting married? Please.

Sure thing! I tried to keep descriptions pretty vague so that y'all can imagine your special day however you like. Also some Nya content in here bc we can never have enough of her <333 okay I'll shut up now

Word count: 1k

Ninjago - Your Wedding Day with Lloyd

You leaned in closer to the mirror, turning your head this way and that, scrutinizing every inch of your face. Pursing your lips anxiously, you focused so hard on your own reflection that you didn’t see Nya approaching from behind you.

“Here,” she said, startling you. She placed her fingers under your chin, turning your head so you were face-to-face. She cocked her head as she examined you. Then, with a smile, she plucked a stray eyelash off your cheek. Holding it up to your lips, she waited for you to blow it off.

You puffed, launching the eyelash into obscurity.

“Did you make a wish?”

You nodded.

“What was it?”

With a coy smirk you turned back to the mirror. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

“Hmm… did you wish that you won’t have a wardrobe malfunction?” She tugged at your clothing, making sure everything was fitting as it should. You remembered going out with her, buying the clothes that you were to be married in. How your heart soared when you saw yourself in them for the first time. If you were flying then, you were floating in space now. With each miniscule adjustment Nya made, your image in the mirror somehow became even more perfect; no, it surpassed perfection.

“Thanks,” you said as she gave one last tug on the fabric near your waist. “But that wasn’t my wish.”

“Did you wish away your pre-marriage jitters?”

You looked at the ceiling, chewing your cheek thoughtfully as you assessed your own feelings. Your reflexive response was “I don’t have jitters,” but you slowly realized that you did have jitters. The fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t just excitement. You were afraid, too.

What if things went wrong? What if you had a wardrobe malfunction, or you tripped while walking down the aisle, or if you accidentally said “I don’t” or—oh. Oh no. What if this was all a mistake? What if you were left at the altar, or abandoned on your honeymoon? What if one of you wanted a divorce after two weeks? A year? Ten years?

The image of your soon-to-be husband flashed in your mind suddenly. The vision of him in his neat tuxedo, smiling, telling you it would all be okay, chased your worries away. Funny how he could comfort you even when he wasn’t in the room. Yes, he was perfect for you. And, as he told you almost too often, you were perfect for him. You two were made for each other; nothing else mattered.

With a sigh, you felt your muscles (which you hadn’t realized were tense) relax. “Didn’t wish for that, either. One more guess.”

“Really? Ooh, I’ve got it!” She placed her head endearingly on your shoulder, making eye contact with your reflection. “You wished for a long and happy marriage.”

You clucked your tongue, shaking your head. “I don’t need to wish for that.”

Nya’s eyes sparkled. You knew she was a sucker for romance; she must’ve been absolutely feasting these past few months. But her obsession with your wedding wasn’t a one-sided relationship; actually, she had proven to be a fantastic planner. There wasn’t one detail she didn’t think of, and she wouldn’t settle for anything less than fairytale-esque sublimity. Without her, this day wouldn’t be the happiest day of your life.

“Humph,” she straightened herself, putting her hands on her hips. “Well then, you’ll have to tell me after your honeymoon. Now come on, I hear the music starting.” She took your hand eagerly and hurried you out of the room.

The aisle was lined with arrangements of your favorite flowers, their scent filling the venue. You felt your cheeks darken as everyone stood, their eyes fixated on you. For a second you were frozen there, bouquet in hand, air trapped in your lungs. You felt a little silly as you realized that these were all your friends, your family, the ones most important to you. The looks in their eyes—proud, overjoyed, a little misty—brought a smile to your face.

You proceeded slowly, the (f/c) petals on the ground getting crushed under your pristine shoes. You weren’t looking at your shoes, though. You looked each guest in the eye as you passed, doing everything you could not to cry as they shot you the most heartfelt looks.

You finally made it to the altar. Lloyd held his hand out. You felt your heart skip a beat when you took it, as if it were the first time you’d touched.

You remembered that day. You remembered the first time you held hands, the first time you kissed, the day he asked you to be his partner—and, more recently, his spouse.

He looked just as beautiful as the day you met. Thick platinum hair framing his angular face, green eyes brimming with wonder, he was your dream boy. And the way he smiled… Now you were really trying not to cry. He gave your hands a reassuring squeeze as the officiator read his script. You smiled back at him, blinking your tears away and preparing to say your vows.

He was first. “I do.”

The words hung in the air, surely keeping the audience in suspense, but all you felt was bliss as you waited for your chance to echo him. “I do.”

“You may now kiss.”

The audience erupted into applause as your lips crashed together. Your eyebrows jumped high on your forehead when Lloyd surprised you by dipping you low, prolonging the moment.

You broke the kiss, bursting into laughter. You stood there for a few more seconds, holding each other’s faces, laughing, foreheads pressed together.

As your laughter died down but the audience still hooted and hollered, Lloyd whispered, for your ears only: “I can’t believe how lucky I am. How beautiful you are. I’m going to treasure you forever.”

“As I, you.” You brought your lips together again, delight flowing through you electrically.

But what about your wish? I wish that this will truly be the happiest day of my life. Well, it’s safe to say that it came true.

Thank you for this wonderful request!! Also, thanks for reading! Take care of yourselves my flowers <33

(divider by saradika)

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #lloyd garmadon #lloyd ninjago #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon x reader #lloyd x reader

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mandarinmoons · 18 days

Note

hey pooks I have a request *rubs hands together menacingly*

okay imagine Spencer taking male! or gn! reader to their first practice (for any sport) after they've been cleared by their pt after months of training due to an injury (preferably leg related?) just like the reader being so excited to play again, and see their coaches/team mates UGHHH I CANT

PRETTY PLS I LOVE YOU SM MY BELOVED

im definitely not requesting this bc this just happened to me at pt today for fencing with my knees

You had me at "my beloved" lol

Spencer pulled up to the parking lot and parked in the closest spot to the field. It had been a while since he had taken you up here and both of your stomachs were filled with nerves.

Over three months ago you had suffered a knee injury and after a lot of resting and physical therapy sessions, you finally got the clear from your doctor and here you were, both excited and anxious as you were waiting for your first practice in a long while to begin.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

You were pulled out of your thoughts as you heard Spencer speak and turned your head towards him. His eyes were full of worry and you knew that he wanted you to wait a week or two more until you got back into your activities, but he knew that trying to convince you would be a waste of time because he knew how miserable you were staying in bed for such an extended period of time.

“I’m sure Spence, besides I told my coach that I still need to take it easy for some time and he knows not to push me too hard. I just can’t sit around and do nothing, I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“I know, I know. I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself again, I really am, I just don’t want you to go through all of that again,” Spencer was there for you through every therapy session and even made sure to come home earlier sometimes to help take care of you.

You took Spencer’s hand in yours and pressed a few kisses to the back of it which in turn Spencer chuckled at.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” you leaned over and pressed a sweet kiss to Spencer’s cheek as well and jumped out of the car as you made your way towards your teammates. Spencer made sure to keep his eyes on you as you walked ahead and he noticed your speed pick up as you walked towards one of your closest teammates, Sam, and gave him a hug.

Soon enough you were circled by the rest of your teammates and everyone gave you a tight hug as they welcomed you back. You looked back over at Spencer’s car and you smiled as you met his eyes and nodded as a sign to let him know you were alright.

Still, Spencer stayed put and watched as you all ran a few laps over the field for warm ups and his smile only got bigger as he saw your speed pick up slowly, you were going to be alright.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus

If you want to be a part of my taglist go here!

You can find my masterlist here!

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kithtaehyung · 2 years

Text

anytime (3tan) (m) | myg

title: anytime pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: your brother is finally back. which makes for a bunch of conflicting worries that you may need to address. warnings: angst, yoongi in general lol, lots of dialogue i’m so sorry, tae being a menace, yoongi on the phone, 3tan sibling scenes!!, thinking thinking, jimin being jimin, masturbation, dirty talk, sl*t mentions, did i say yoongi on the phone?, alcohol, house party, so many interactions, just… yoongi🥺 note: ah.. well. it’s finally here. thank you endlessly to @sugakookitty for being the angel beta you are, and thank you all for being so patient and understanding as i worked on this while still recovering from the writing process of dalo! i know it’s been a minute, so. i worked like hell on this the past week. if you haven’t read any of the three tangerines series yet, i highly recommend reading those first! it will make so much more sense lol note 2: saving the rest of my thoughts for the end bc i have many! just enjoy :D total word count: 16k+ release date: july 23rd, 2022, 2:17pm est

Back to normal.

With the coming of one, singular sunrise, everything has gone back to normal.

Curling your fingers into worn sheets, you stare unblinking at the space once occupied. At the way the material has bunched in frozen peaks and valleys, previously crinkled by passion and loudly unspoken feelings.

Whatever transpired just hours ago will be imprinted on your soul forever. You may even wear it on your sleeve, if only to remind yourself that something shifted between the hours of suspense and shelter.

Because Yoongi didn’t just let you into his place last night.

He let you into his heart.

Through his actions, his decisions, his words. All of them served as a door, his eyes the windows that couldn’t lie about what they contained.

You don’t know much still. And you will come to deny a lot more. But one thing is for sure: since you stepped foot inside, you aren’t sure if you’re ready to leave just yet.

Or ever.

Fucking hell, your chest feels so hollow it’s a wonder you’re still functioning—

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?”

Your eyes snap to your open doorway.

“Sup.”

What.

Catapulting yourself out of bed, you’re already warring with yourself on whether to go out there or not. Because what the fuck is happening?

Why is Yoongi still here?

You skid to a halt at your entryway, as if the edge of a cliff is millimeters from your toes.

It may as well be. You seem to be in freefall already.

Bits of conversation can be heard from where you stand, and you strain your ears to pick up every single word you can grab from down the hall.

“—happening?”

“Relax. Something went down last night.”

“What the fuck. Here?”

“Dalo.”

“The fuck happened? Why didn’t anyone—”

“Jimin took care of it.”

Your brows could kiss from being so close.

What the hell is going on?

One, why is Yoongi talking so calmly? Two and three and four, why isn’t your brother as loud as you thought he’d be?

“He was there, too?”

“Yeah. But she’s okay. I’ll head out now.”

Fuck fuck fuck your heart is already suffering from how you woke up. Because you never got a chance to say goodbye.

And now it’s gonna happen a second time?

Do you step out? Do you stay there? Can you handle either one of those options?

Your feet are already moving on their own accord, oversized shirt slightly catching in the wind you make in your approach.

Wait, when did you even put clothes on? You don’t remember a single thing after…

Stop. You can’t worry about that now. Right at this moment, you just need to see him.

Because you don’t know when you’ll get another chance.

Their voices are a lot clearer the closer you get to the main hallway.

“K. You good?”

“What? Yeah.”

“Okay. Thanks for looking out, dude. Fuck.”

“No sweat. Apparently she didn’t even need us. Almost fought him herself.”

You freeze midstep as your brother huffs a small sound.

“That right?”

“Yeah, Chim was saying something like that.”

“Good to know. She could whoop my ass if she wanted to, honestly.”

Yoongi’s hum of amusement is nothing but agreeable. “She should.”

“Bitch. Outta my house.”

They both laugh and start saying goodbye, which pulls your feet into the hall completely. Standing. Staring. Probably an absolute wreck but you don’t care.

Yoongi’s shoulder taps your brother’s before he spots you, and you can tell that he didn’t expect you to be awake.

All the oxygen is yanked from your lungs as his eyes still on your awaiting form, but you can’t do anything because you get another look and greeting,

“Morning!”

“Morning,” you croak, voice chipped and hollow.

Eyes sliding back to Yoongi, you wanna say a lot more than that. But words are all competing against each other and clogging up your throat—because you can’t.

How do you thank someone for being so perfect? How do you show what you want to say without confessing something no one else present should hear?

An entire glossary of terms jams inside your teeth, black letters staining your tongue. In the end, you settle with,

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Your airway seizes. Ducts burn.

Don’t react. You cannot. No matter how hard your heart is clenching right now, you cannot make this seem like anything more than gratitude.

Despite it being so, enormously more than that.

You nod, which Yoongi takes as a cue to regard your brother. “See ya.”

“We’ll catch up later.”

Your overnight guardian agrees with a nod of his own, and you wonder if he thought about looking at you one more time before departing, or didn’t think about it at all.

When the door shuts, it’s like a switch that triggers you to spin around and head back to your—

“Hey, come here.”

Goddamn it.

“Hold on,” you rush out as you back around a corner, palms rubbing your eyes before steeling your lack of any resolve. After seconds, you make your way back to the front.

Only to get crushed in a hug, arms encasing and smushing you into a fresh tee.

Because of what happened, because your heart is in halves, or because of your brother being the stupid, soft idiot he is sometimes, you don’t push him away. Maybe it’s all three and something extra. But you exhale deep, feet still, trying incredibly hard to not to show anymore tears.

“Sorry I wasn’t there.”

Brows pinched, you shift your head. “You would’ve gotten arrested.”

“Did you have a good time before that?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, at least.”

Though the moment is needed, something feels odd.

Normally, this would be the part where he goes back to his normal, judgmental, assumptive self. Something about “you were still there” or “you still could’ve avoided it somehow.”

But he doesn’t say anything like that this time.

What’s up with him?

Breathing in, you smell his familiar cologne before asking, “Isn’t this the part where you yell at me.”

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed,” he admits before loosening his hold. “But nah, not at you.”

“Good. Because I’ll just yell at you, too,” you sigh. After he scoffs, you extricate yourself and add, “If I wasn’t so tired.”

“You okay, though?”

“Yeah.” You step away and he lets you, and you use that opening to head into the kitchen.

Do you feel like cooking? No. But it’ll be a good distraction. From how you feel, from last night, and from this already strange morning.

“You sure?”

Opening the fridge, you take some things out while repeating, “Yeah. Yoongi and Jimin were there.”

“I heard.”

You set down all your items, moving to fetch a pan as your brother leans against a counter with his arms crossed. Interest somewhat piqued, you wonder why he’s burning holes into the perfectly fine tile.

Why is he acting like this? Why hasn’t he even asked about Yoongi?

“What were you wearing?”

“Excuse me?”

There he is.

“Was it what you wore—”

“You know damn well what I wore doesn’t matter, so quit asking,” you bite, slamming the pan down a lot harder than you intended. Or just as hard.

Infuriating. Even though your brother is overprotective as fuck, he should know better than that. Wasn’t he just asking if you had fun? What did any of this have to do with your outfit?

“Shit, sorry,” he backtracks, face scrunched and a palm digging divots into his forehead. “I just—I’m jet lagged and pissed but you’re right.”

After chucking some food scraps in the pan, the sizzles that spring forth serve as the only sounds in the kitchen. Hints of hot butter bloom around your cheeks, and you contain your need to aim daggers your brother’s way, knowing that his fuse should run out in due time.

Both of your attitudes should change as soon as the meal is ready anyway.

Finally sparing him a glance, you notice that he’s still angry with the floor, cheek prodded in deep thought and brows set in a peculiar line.

Hmm. He could just be pissed this happened while he was out of town.

But something still seems really weird. Odd. Like you have all the right pieces but they’re for a completely different puzzle.

Turning the burner low, you take a nearby electric kettle from its stand. “What’s up with you?”

Your sibling’s eyes follow as you fill the glass container. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Just tired.”

“How about this,” you offer, back to setting the kettle down and starting it with a click. “I let you eat all the food, and you let me know the truth.”

“About what?”

The conversation you heard between him and Yoongi was way too suspicious. How did he not even flinch at Jimin being involved? Wouldn’t he question it just a tiny bit that both Yoongi and Jimin were with you? At a club, no less?

Nothing makes sense.

“About what’s on your mind,” you finally respond, voice heavy with exhaustion.

It’s a wonder you’re even awake. The lingering effects of last night hang onto you like bricks, both from your body and from your overworked brain.

Truthfully, you want nothing more but to sleep and forget about everything for the time being. “But if you really don’t wanna tell me, then whatever.”

Your brother just watches as you divvy the food into two servings instead of one, bringing them to a familiar table backed against familiar windows. When you turn, the slight scrape of a chair follows as he sits at his usual spot, and it’s quiet as you pour some tea.

Just like you have every time he comes back from a trip.

You don’t know when that started becoming tradition. But it has become instinct at this point. Just one of the few things you do as a family, whether it’s in the early, dewy hours of morning, or when even birds are fast asleep.

Steam spirals from his cup as you set it down with a heavy clunk. Taking your usual spot adjacent to him, you scoot your chair in. Not particularly doing anything else.

“Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.”

Neither of you move to eat.

Work crawls just as slow as your mind does, with the sludge of all your thoughts and worries jamming its various gears.

What do you do now? How are you supposed to feel after an unforgettable week you can’t get back?

You said yourself that things will go back to normal. But saying something is a hell of a lot easier than actually living it because you feel ridiculously incomplete. One check in the mirror would show that you’re all in one piece, sure.

But on the inside?

Your chest is both a lot heavier and a lot lighter than it used to be. Like a significant part of you has been replaced with solid stone.

How that’s possible, you can’t even begin to fathom.

Retreating to the bathrooms, you shut yourself in a stall and fish out your phone, staring at a lockscreen that shows no notifications that have your heartbeat skipping.

Can you even text him?

No, right? Yes? Maybe?

If he’s at work, he’d be way too busy to just text. But if you send something weighty, he may not respond to that, either. If he’s with your brother, that could result in a talk you don’t wanna have yet.

Ugh.

Why is this even harder now!

But Yoongi said he’d figure something out. Knowing him—because you’d like to think you do now, to some degree—he wouldn’t just say that for nothing. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Still… The mere notion of texting someone shouldn’t make you go through a mental maze.

Squeezing your eyes in frustration, you decide to let your fingers write for you.

Only to find out that they’re just as indecisive.

You [typing]: hi

You:

You [typing]: hi old man

You:

You [typing]: hey

You:

Hearing someone come in, you click your phone shut, sighing before lugging your heavy heart back to work.

And it’s the most un-Friday Friday you’ve ever been through.

“Door’s open!”

Upon entering Taehyung’s place, you’re immediately hit with the smell of bread.

Is he making his signature sandwiches? You would’ve asked him to make you one if you hadn't arrived with lunch.

Have to repay him for his favor, after all.

Why does that feel so long ago?

Setting your bag on his couch, you catch sight of him in the kitchen a half-room over. “Hey, Tae. I’m paying up.”

Immediately, he whips his head around. After eyeing the bag you put on his coffee table, a dramatic groan sails out of his mouth. “Damn it.”

“What?”

He looks at you before observing something you can’t see. But it turns out that your assumptions were correct. “I just wasted a shit ton of jelly.”

A laugh escapes as you start taking out what you brought, paper bag obnoxiously loud. “Just leave it for dessert!”

“Nope. It’s best fresh.”

You pause. “Then have that instead?”

“But I want your food now.”

Damn it, Taehyung. You massage your forehead out of necessity, knowing you will never fully understand this man’s brain. “Okay,” you relent. “Bring it over, I’ll eat it.”

Both of you settle onto his sofa after he grabs some plates. While searching for a movie, he runs through everything you told him on the way from work,

“So he took you back to his place.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Took you home.”

“Yeah.”

“And stayed.”

“…Yeah.”

“Well…” Your friend leans back, raking dark bangs away from his forehead. After a pause so long that it makes you nervous, he breaks, “Shit.”

“I know,” you sigh, staring at the small, weighty to-go rice in your hand. “He did so much.”

“I mean…” While you’re still stewing in contemplation, he hunches forward to grab a hefty portion of noodles. And when he continues, it’s nothing like you expect,

“Pretty sure that means he’s yours.”

Fuck.

The box in your hand almost hits the floor. Heart beating in over-over-overdrive, you find it hard to process any coherent thoughts. “Be serious,” you shoot out, fingers tight around the container.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“The bar was already low, mister fresh jelly.”

Taehyung simply turns to aim a smirk your way. “You’re the one that put it there, Missus Min.”

And he bursts into laughter when you hide your face behind the rice.

“Shut up, please,” you groan, earning even more hearty chuckles from your best friend.

“No! You’re so gone, look at you!”

Sighing in a mix of embarrassment and pain, you set the box down and start gathering your own food. “It’s not like that, Tae. We’re not together, remember?”

The sound he makes is enough to show how convinced he is. “I’m not even the one in your situation and I’m swooning. How can you not see what’s happening?”

“It’s not that I can’t.”

“Then what?”

“It’s that I shouldn’t,” you whisper, moving stuff around your plate. “Even if we were a thing… we’d have to just sneak around. Like damn kids.”

While you’re wallowing in your own thoughts, Taehyung sits in silence, too. The movie he finally settled on rolls the beginning sequence, but neither of your gazes fall anywhere close to the screen.

After awhile, you hear him comment, “Sneaking around… Ah, that’ll break you.”

There’s a weight attached to his words, and your eyes can’t help but follow them to the floor.

Why does it feel like he’s talking to more than just you? He’s been acting pretty shady the past week. Or is that just you projecting your own sneaky behavior?

Well. Inconspicuous or not, it’s not going great.

Exhaling, you slowly admit, “Jimin already knows.”

Taehyung’s sudden stare makes you wince.

“I don’t know how,” you sigh onto your food. “But that night, Yoongi just said that he knows. I don’t know how the fuck that happened unless he said something, but. I also don’t see why he’d do that.”

“Umm.”

You turn.

“That’s on me.”

“What?” Completely thrown, your jaw unhinges from betrayal. “You told him? You snitched?”

“No! No.” In his haste to placate, Taehyung bites his lip and sighs, hand patting the sofa in defeat. “Not exactly.”

“Then how…”

“He was here. The night Reia called me.” He claws through his hair, a little rougher than last time. As his bangs sway forward in rebellious waves, you wonder if there’s more to the story he tells. “When I had to cover for you.”

“Oh.”

“It was weird. He was actually flipping out when they said you weren’t responding.”

Wait. Jimin? Why the hell would he do that? If anything, you’d think he would just sit around and watch everything unfold with amusement. “What the? Why?”

“I dunno. I was obviously dealing with a lot so I didn’t really process, but. After I hung up, he kept asking me where you were.” He shrugs. “So I told him where you could be.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much, actually. He looked… Fine? Then obviously he connected the dots, so. Pretty sure he suspects at least something now.” He inspects his nails before choosing one to bite, a habit he still hasn’t grown out of. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you quickly assure, wondering what any and all of this could mean. While some things make sense now, there’s even more questions coming to the forefront. “I’m just confused.”

“Same.”

Why did Jimin react like that? Why did he question Tae where you were? It makes practically zero sense, just like his little tease before the intramural game.

Now you really need to know what the fuck happened there. If you get the opportunity to find out, you’re not letting it escape.

But first…

You flash a smug look at your best friend.

“So… Jimin, huh?”

And he stops biting to aim big eyes your way. Then forward.

“It’s complicated.”

You:

You [typing]: thank you

You:

“Oh, my god, hi!”

“Hey, Yuri,” you sigh into your phone. As you drop your bag onto your bedroom floor, you apologize, “Sorry I didn’t answer earlier.”

Her voice is enough to penetrate through your other ear, so you set the device on speaker before tossing it on your comforter.

“No worries! Just wanted to check on you.”

Comfy clothes. You need to be in comfortable clothes as quick as possible. As much as you love Taehyung, his insistence that you come straight from work meant prolonging your discomfort.

You shuck your work garments off while halfway responding, “I’m fine.”

“Okay… You don’t really sound like it, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh again, pulling a tee over your head.

You still haven’t gotten anything from Yoongi. There’s barely any fight in your bones right now. “But it’s whatever.”

“I’m sorry. Did something happen last night? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Classic Yuri with the onslaught of questions. Always wanting to kn—

Wait.

What did she ask?

Jimin didn’t tell them?

Huh.

You just figured he said what went down before rallying them to leave Dalo. The fact that he didn’t say anything strikes you as a little out of character.

Well. Now paired with what Tae mentioned… Maybe something should make sense here.

“Babe? I’m so sorry if I’m being annoying.”

“Oh, fuck, my bad,” you rush out. “You aren’t. I just thought you all knew.”

“Well, maybe they know. I was just way too drunk.”

“Ah, yeah.” A chuckle leaves your mouth. “Damn, you were gone gone.”

She elongates her agreement before adding a bit of explanation,

“It’s all Rohan’s fault.”

Exaggerating a sigh, you shake your head as you flop onto your bed. “Do I need to draw swords?”

Her laugh always reminds you of bubbles. Pretty bubbles that fill grassy backyards and playgrounds with pops of delicate rainbows.

“No, I’m kidding. He actually… Umm. He asked me out.”

“What!” Air rushes around you as you shoot up on your elbow, moving to change the call into a videocall instead.

Another laugh erupts before the call is switched, and you stare right into Yuri’s frustratingly perfect skin as she’s walking down a hallway. “Bitch!” you yell. “When!”

“Wait, hold on.” Her smile is all you see until she enters a room, and the movements make it through your phone before she answers, “Earlier today!”

“How?” You’re so delighted that your smile is genuine, ears perked and ready to hear every little thing about how this all happened. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t think you’d be this invested,” she giggles before sitting on her bed. Propping her phone on what you think is a pillow—or one of her many plushies—she fixes her hair while continuing, “You usually just tolerate stuff like this.”

“I mean,” you stutter, realizing that she’s right. You never truly bought into all the mushy stuff since your experience with relationships isn’t exactly sunshine. Rainbows? Yeah. But not much sunshine.

Not until recently, at least. “True, but. I really am happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she squeals, expression a mix of gratitude and delight. You can tell she wanted to talk about it but held back, which makes her storytelling even more special. “It just— I was so surprised! He took me to this super fancy place, right? And then he even bought me a ring—”

“A ring? When’s the wedding?”

“Okay, I flipped out at it, too, but! He said he just really wanted to get it for me.”

“Damn.” Your curve is warm. “That’s fucking cute.”

“I hate him actually,” she whispers, to which you chuckle at while feeling like your chest has suddenly caved in. “Maybe your little mystery man will do something, too!”

And an overwhelming feeling of sadness swallows you whole.

“Maybe,” you murmur, heart slowly bleeding out of the cracks Tae warned you about. “Maybe.”

“Oh, I’m also inviting everyone over tomorrow. Can you come?”

“Yeah, that sounds—” You stop when you hear the front opening, and your brother’s voice is distinguishable even through your bedroom door.

Looking at the time to see how many hours you have left to wallow in suffering, you sulk after you count. Desperate and slightly melancholy, you ask, “Actually, can I just come over now?”

“And spend the night? Duh!” Yuri gets up and goes out of frame, but you can still hear her. “Mom’ll be happy to see you again. And she’s been making mandu all day, so. Hope you’re hungry.”

You could cry.

Dumplings?

Comfort food is exactly what you need right now.

“Starving,” you manage through a half-smile. “I can leave whenever.”

“Then hurry up!” She finally reappears in the frame with more casual clothes, and you wonder if you caught her just as she was coming home from her date. “We aren’t done talking about mystery man. I have so many questions.”

You fake a groan, brain churning with mixed emotions.

Of course you wanna scream about him from multiple rooftops. But you also just yearn to talk about him openly at all, and the fact that you can’t has you shutting yourself in a proverbial basement.

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce anyway—as usual. “Be there soon.”

After you both end the call, it doesn’t take you too long to pack. You don’t necessarily need to change, either, so you’re vacating your room in no time.

Voices spill into the hallway as you make your way to the door.

“Going to—”

Stopping in your strides, your bag swings into your thigh while you count four pairs of eyes. Two of them you recognize as people in your brother’s friend circle, and one of them…

Mystery man himself.

“Oh. Hi, guys.”

They all greet you in varying volumes, with Yoongi simply throwing a look over his shoulder from his seat on the couch.

How the fuck does he look better each time you see him?

Turning to your brother—definitely not to stare too hard at someone else in the room—you announce, “I’m staying at Yuri’s.”

“K. You eat yet?”

Your hand connects with the doorknob but your shoulders spring up in excitement. “No, but her mom’s making mandu,” you giddily respond, stretching out the ending syllable in singsong.

One of the guys shouts from his chair, “Hey, bring some back!”

“No!” You laugh as your brother does, because he already knows what you’re gonna say. “I never share dumplings.”

“It’s true.”

“Dumplings sound good as fuck.”

“Why do you think I want some?”

“Okay, I’m really leaving now,” you huff through a smile before sparing one last glance at Yoongi.

And the slight, upward lift of his mouth makes your pulse jump.

Good sign. That’s a good sign, right?

You really hope they don’t notice how incredibly shy you become. “Have fun.”

“See ya!”

“Bye!”

“Later!”

With their goodbyes on your ankles, you head out the door, exhaling like you just ran a marathon.

The night at Yuri’s is refreshing, with her mom doting on you and having you eat until you can’t move from the dining table. After a comforting, talkative meal, you’re able to speak somewhat freely about things in the plush castle that Yuri calls her bed.

You tell her what happened at Dalo, to which she hugs you tight enough to squeeze out some tears. And you tell her about your so-called mystery man, if only to bring her out of the sad funk your scare put her in.

And with each wholesome scenario, you see her perk back up to normal. There’s still some lingering pity and understanding in her eyes—understandable and relatable—so you decide to tell her more than you initially intended.

Remembering everything the two of you did together, though, it’s no wonder you feel a vast emptiness in your chest. Whatever happened during this week will be remembered for years and, even if that is all you get with Yoongi, it can be enough. More than enough.

Or can it?

An outright squeal causes you to retreat into your shell. “You’re so in love!”

“Shh!”

“What! You totally are.”

Covering your entire face with one of Yuri’s plushies, your muffled reminder is the same you gave Taehyung, “We aren’t even a thing.”

“Yeah, right. You’re practically married.”

The stuffed hamster quickly ends up in her face.

Giggling, she clutches it in her arms while being downright ridiculous. “I bet you even picture yourself having his kids.”

What?

Your mind fizzes, bubbling with a million scenarios you hadn’t even thought of yet and all of them are giving you grief.

Could you really? Something like that? Why is the answer already solidifying in your mind?

You’re so caught up in Yuri’s earlier statement that the next one almost goes unheard.

“Mystery guy would do anything for you. And I don’t blame him at all.” She runs a couple fingers through her hair, eyes viewing stars beyond her canopy. “He probably would’ve lost his shit if he saw—”

Her pause ends when she turns your way. “Oh, crap. Sorry if—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “You’re probably right.”

“Sorry. I’m still upset just thinking about it. I would’ve lost my shit, too.”

“Jimin was there. As far as mystery man, I dunno.” You readjust yourself on your side to face her, but your eyes stay glued to her sheets. “All my exes moved on pretty damn quick, so. Who’s to say he won’t.”

“Probably him.”

It’s so spot on that your breath catches in your throat.

How are things so obvious to her? Are they this obvious to everyone else and you’re simply the only one blocking yourself from what’s really going on?

This is some mental punishment for consistently being told or shown you’re not worth someone’s time, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

Why the fuck do all your exes get this much power over you?

Voice tiny, you finally whisper, “If you say so.” You go to grab another plushie, hugging it and finding comfort in its fluff. “I’m just still unsure about the whole thing.”

“I was, too. But… Rohan saying something first made me realize that I could’ve done the same. And we probably would’ve been happier a lot sooner.”

“Why didn’t you before again? He’s older or something?”

Yuri sighs before brushing nonexistent hair on her plush. “Mm, that was part of it. Really, I was just worried people wouldn’t, umm. Accept him? I guess?”

As she laughs to herself, she doesn’t see the look on your face. “But honestly… Who really cares, anyway? He’s a good guy. And why should I care, you know?”

If only you were as strong. You feel like you’re witnessing a champion, cheering Yuri on from the sidelines as she overcomes all obstacles to break the final ribbon.

Because she’s gone through shit similar to yours. So to see her conquer her past makes your future just a bit brighter. “I’m happy for y’all.”

“Thanks!” She grins, adorably puffing her cheeks on her beloved hamster. “I’m rooting for you both, too.”

Swallowing, you only nod, not a single word daring to run out of your mouth.

Can you also do it, though? Make it to your own finish line?

Maybe.

But you don’t even know if you have one yet.

You:

You [typing]: i

You:

You [typing]: sgskgskdl

You:

The neighborhoods in your town haven’t changed much.

Aside from the trees being taller, almost everything else is the same. Cracks still residing in the same sidewalks; kids still riding the same bikes; one random elderly on their front porch still eyeing everything with suspicion.

Even the people seem to have stayed. You still recognize a good amount of them as you and your friends currently traverse down one of the worn, sunny sidewalks.

While Reia and Yuri laugh about something together up ahead, you and Dom lag behind to people watch.

“Mm, there goes Missus Gata again.”

“Is it really still Missus?”

“It is. But are you surprised?”

“No.”

Both of you politely raise your arms in greeting, watching as the older lady moves on to water another rosebush.

From your friend’s hard angles and posture, you can tell that she isn’t done with you after your alarming confession to her and Reia. After they arrived at Yuri’s, it wasn’t long before you were told to let them know what happened, since apparently they weren’t briefed on it, either.

But you don’t expect her to talk about it so soon—and in broad daylight.

“So that really happened? At Dalo?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I am not.”

Though her mouth forms shapes, she doesn’t offer anything else, shaking her head and biting her lip instead.

You use the heated pause to point out, “I’m just shocked Jimin didn’t say anything.”

“Honestly? I’m a little glad he didn’t. Because I would’ve hunted that motherfucker down.”

“Hey!”

The two of you look ahead to see Yuri wave before pointing, and you follow her hand to one of the small playgrounds dotting the area.

It seems even that area hasn’t changed. You still see the familiar swing set, jungle gym, and seesaw taking residence there.

Since it’s currently vacant, all four of you walk up to different structures, with Reia and Yuri taking the swings and you and Dom the central climbing gym.

Heart heavy, you wonder if you can say what’s been plaguing your mind since yesterday. The others are far enough away to not hear what you’re about to disclose, right? And Dom would know to keep it down.

But is outside really the right place for something like this?

You make a decision as your friend steps onto the first couple platforms. Feet planted, you squint up and admit,

“That wasn’t everything that happened.”

Immediately, Dominique turns to face you, brows scrunched in waiting.

Huffing, you grab onto a pole to lift yourself onto the steps. The metal is warm instead of scorching hot, and you briefly wonder if the paint is new.

Focusing, you continue as you follow Dom up to the top level of the gym, “He took me back to his place. Made sure I was good.”

“Mm. How’d that go.”

Over the creaks of swings and loud laughter, you give your friend a rundown of how the night went. How Yoongi never left your side until you said it was okay; how he told you it wasn’t your fault; how he drove you home and surprisingly stayed the whole night.

You leave out the more intimate parts, but Dom is still rooted in her opinion.

“What did I tell you? It’s far from over.”

Looking down at the rest of the playground, you lean on a bright railing and sigh, “He hasn’t said anything since he left.”

“Have you?”

You wince. “…No.”

A snort pings off your shoulder, and you watch as Dom joins you, looking at the others with sun-narrowed eyes. “Well. I’m no expert on his type, but. I don’t think he’s gonna say anything until you do.”

Your lips purse as you agree in silence. That’s what you’ve been thinking was the case, which makes your indecisiveness even harder to deal with.

And yet, you still haven’t gotten rid of the little devil wedged deep inside your ear. “But what if he’s just… I dunno, moved on already?”

“Oh, come on. Really?”

“Fuck, okay. Fine,” you easily bow out, knowing your doubts are getting less and less traction. Things are finally starting to sink in, especially after Dalo—and your conversations from yesterday.

Pushing off the metal, you grip it until heat permeates your palms. “But it’s complicated. Like, I know there’s something there. But I also don’t get it, you know?”

“Oh, you get it. You just don’t want to. Cus you’re scared of what it really is.”

“Maybe,” you muse, leaning forward again as a merciful cloud blocks the Sun. “But. It’s not like anything can happen anyway.”

“Why not? Look at me and tell me why you both can’t just date already.”

You freeze, the words said aloud enough to ignite your entire body. A brief skip or two punctures your chest, and you feel every limb liquifying into mush all at once.

Finish line. Is that your finish line?

But no one else is in your situation. So no one else would understand why your course is a bit more complicated than others.

Turning, you nudge your chin into the crook of your elbow. “Because… Well, what if it doesn’t work out? What if there’s a fallout and my brother gets involved?” Sorrow overpowers hope on your tongue as you avert your gaze. “I don’t want them to suffer because of me.”

“What if it does work out? What if everything is completely fine?”

You flash your eyes back upward.

Dom sighs before she crosses her forearms. “Listen. I’m gonna need you to fight that stubborn ass head of yours and think about this for a second. Yeah, it could be messy. But is that enough to stop you from trying?”

Well. Your head is undoubtedly stubborn.

But it’s even more difficult when it goes by precedence.

“All my exes have been messy. I don’t want to do that to him, too. What if it’s me?”

Your deprecation is knocked off the climbing gym by a scoff. “What? Girl. What are you even saying? That dude blew off the entire neighborhood. For you.”

“Dom, please,” you beg as she straightens. “I don’t—”

“Do you miss him?”

“What?”

“Don’t what me. Do you miss him.”

Your eyes once again find the playground floor, drifting over to the untouched seesaw.

If only your mind was that still.

Sighing, you answer, “Yeah.”

“Exactly. And it’s been, what, two days?” You hear nails tap the railing in fed up metallic pings. “How would it feel if it was a month? Fuck it, a year? What then?”

“I’d…” You let your answer fade, not knowing how it was going to end anyway.

Because before, you were completely okay not hearing about Yoongi for months at a time. Seeing him once while back home was just a passing event—albeit a handsome one—so the time between didn’t really affect you.

But now?

Thinking about that same scenario feels like how agony must taste. No matter how many times you swallow, you can’t seem to get the suffering out of your mouth.

So you readily admit, “It would hurt so fucking much.”

“Exactly. And I bet you everything that he would feel the same.”

Dom leaves your high perch after that, and you lift your head before clanging after her to another section of the structure. “He hasn’t even said anything, though.”

“Neither have you! Both of you haven’t.” When she comes to the edge of a sturdy bridge, she looks over her shoulder to add, “At least he has an excuse.”

While you join her on the blocks, you ask what she means.

“He probably doesn’t want your brother catching on or something.” Finding a spot to settle in the very middle, the two of you lean on the rails to watch cars drive past a ways away. “I hate this whole let-them-talk-first shit he’s pulling, but. It kinda makes sense this time.”

Not encased by towers, it’s easier for your voices to get lost in the open summer air. Your mind seems to clear a bit, too, if only to be a little more accepting.

Because Dominique’s argument has made the most sense thus far. “What do I even say?”

“I dunno. Hi? I miss you? I love you and I’m an idiot?”

And the amount of sense plummets to zero. “Dom!”

“What? I’m right!”

Tripped up by a new phrase that has your heart gasping, you think the bridge is swaying a lot more than it truly is. Swaying, rocking, twisting, looping. You may as well be on a rollercoaster with the array of emotions you feel spiraling across your veins.

Nope. There’s no way.

You brace yourself and think about more concrete things. Concepts that you can grasp in the present.

And suddenly, texting Yoongi doesn’t sound difficult after all.

“I could just say hi and see what happens.”

Your logical friend turns to look at you before providing more advice, “Don’t overthink this. Just initiate. Every other time, he better commit.”

A smile finally graces your face as you softly nudge her with an elbow. “Look at you,” you joke. “You warming up to him?”

“I never said that.”

Her laugh joins yours after a second, and the calm silence that follows reminds you of every summer you’ve ever lived.

When the curve of your grin starts to fade, Dom’s voice floats on the breeze once again. “Look. All I’m saying is… He makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you. And I think that’s cus he makes you happy with yourself.”

Well.

Fuck.

Your mouth sets into a bittersweet line, feelings threatening the corners of your eyes. As an impossible memory of another playground comes to mind, you sigh, “He does, Dom.”

She slings an arm around you, tone even more airy and fleeting. “What can I say? I’m always right.”

“Almost always,” you correct, happy to defend Yoongi just as your friend did minutes prior. “Since he isn’t the same as you thought.”

“Y’all! Let’s get ice cream!”

Both you and Dom peer down from your perch before she yells, “Don’t have to tell me twice!”

Voice soft, she whispers to your unsuspecting friends below.

“With you? Yeah.”

You look her way.

“So what does that tell you?”

You [typing]: hey

You:

You [typing]: how’ve you been?

You:

You [7:17pm]: hi

After a fun but tiring weekend, you make the trip back home to your brother settling onto the couch.

Shucking your bag off, you take out a plastic baggie filled with frozen dumplings that you got sent home with. Because no matter how profusely you refused, your stubbornness is no match for a mom’s insistence.

Your sibling throws a look over the sofa. “Damn, how many are in there?”

“I dunno but they’re all for me!”

He laughs before turning back to face the TV, head shaking at your unwavering selfishness. “Well, save those for later. I got food.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was gonna.”

In minutes, your prized possessions fill the freezer and your stuff occupies your room.

A movie you vaguely remember from childhood is on, but your attention isn’t too focused on it as you grab a plate. Instead, you find yourself staring at your lock screen, conveniently hidden from sight by your thigh.

No messages.

This really is so much harder.

“How’ve you been?”

“Ehh, good,” you respond at your untouched meal. “I have an interview soon.”

He munches while staying fixated on the television. “Oh, yeah? Where at?”

“Downtown.”

“Damn, nice.” Scarfing down another bite, he continues, “I was wondering if you were gonna go for another gig.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, pushing your food in various directions. Even though it smells delicious and inviting, anxiety about the upcoming interview sinks its talons in your brain. It being a Sunday certainly doesn’t help, either. “I’m just ready for a change. At least you’re smart and found a sick job right out of school.”

You wish you could be like your brother: successful, uncompromising, also seemingly lucky. To see him finding success at every turn makes you feel unaccomplished, despite having a good amount of achievements yourself.

He just seems more driven than you. While it’s admirable, it’s also slightly demotivating. Because you feel like you won’t ever reach that same potential. Like an ink stamp of his persona—never fully transferred.

“I mean, that’s a way to sum it up, but.” He sets his food on his lap, suddenly quiet. “Not really how I saw it.”

You watch as he adjusts the watch on his wrist, admiring its craftsmanship with a determined stare. “I knew I had to support us somehow. Couldn’t settle for just anything.”

“I know.”

There he goes again, shouldering everything himself. No matter how much he’s done or how hard he’s worked, he never holds his efforts over your head.

Truly, the only glaring fault he has is his protectiveness, which even then is hard to argue with considering the circumstances.

He just needs to know he shouldn’t worry so much.

“And honestly, the pay raise was the only reason I took that promotion. The travel is nice, but…”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” You set your plate down on the coffee table, fully deciding to not eat just yet. “I’m an adult, you know. Survived being away for school, right?”

“Yeah. But… I just. I feel sick thinking about what happened.”

“Well. So do I.” You rest your elbows on your knees, eyes burning into the ground. “But I’m here. Yoongi and Jimin… Even if they weren’t there, I would’ve found a way out.”

“What happened anyway?”

“Umm.” You swallow. One would think a story like this should be easy to tell on the third go. But not for you. “All I remember is Jimin getting me after I shook the guy off. Then Yoongi… He brought me home.”

Trying not to show emotion at a time where your heart isn’t quite operating should be an Olympic sport. You can feel its heavy thumps with every syllable as you finally continue, “And stayed until you got here. Apparently.”

For a moment, only the movie fills the living room with sound. Both of you sit in weighty silence as ponderous as your thoughts. Thinking, wondering, contemplating.

It’s him that breaks first. “I owe them.”

“Same.”

“They could've told me, though.”

You disagree, looking at the floor and checking your phone in the process. “And had you flipping shit, boarding the next flight for nothing? We were fine.”

“But what if you weren’t? You know I’d do that shit for real if I had to.”

“I know.”

“I got you.”

When you look up, you find your brother glaring straight through the screen. He’s clearly still bothered. But shouldn’t he just be happy that you’re okay?

You still don’t know why he hasn’t said a single thing about Yoongi being here.

Maybe… Just maybe—

You finally remember something. Something that had you raising your brows for a short period of time. Wondering what that could be about, you bring it up, “You said to call Yoongi, too. If I needed anything.”

That seems to snap him out of whatever headspace he was in. Turning to you, he asks, “I said that?”

“Yeah. Before you left.”

“Huh.” You watch as he looks down with furrowed brows. “Yeah, well. He’s my brother, so. Makes sense.”

Of course. They’re thick as thieves, him and Yoongi. He’s called him his brother multiple times before.

But it pricks the side of your heart just a bit this time.

“Speaking of that fucker, I feel like he’s seeing someone.”

You freeze, never having sweat accumulate so fast in your goddamn life. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. He’s been quieter than usual. Just sucked into his phone.”

…His phone?

“Oh,” you croak before clearing your throat.

What the hell do you say? How would you respond to this conversation normally, let alone having an inside scoop? It’s borderline awkward.

“I mean, he could be busy with work?”

“True. But I usually know if he’s serious with anyone. And he kept dipping out early this whole weekend.” He starts gathering his trash from the table before pausing. “Wait, you know where he works?”

Coughing again, you pivot, ignoring his weird look. “I meant, in general. I assume he’s a contributing member of society.”

Your brother just furrows his brows once before continuing his cleaning. “Yeah, he’s working on big shit, that’s for sure.” As he passes to throw his garbage away, you pick your phone up to flip it over. “Speaking of, I’m hosting another party here on Friday.”

Confused, your stare pins onto his back. “Seriously? Didn’t you just have people over last Friday?”

“It’s summer? And I have things called friends?”

“Can’t Jimin host?”

“Nah, his parents are back until next month,” he explains before chucking everything in your kitchen bin.

“Oh.”

“But, what I was gonna say was,” he smiles, walking back to the coffee table to grab his phone. “You’ll wanna be here for this one.”

“…Why?”

Wiggling his device at you, he vaguely responds with a mysterious, “You’ll see.”

You sigh, hoping it’s not just another excuse for you to stay home and cook. That’s what usually happens during big house parties at your place.

Well, the few times that weren’t outside cookouts. With a quick thought, you remember that it was usually Yoongi that grilled during those. “Okay… Can my friends come, too?”

“Yeah! I don’t care. A lot of people’ll be here.”

“K.”

“Eat.”

You end up not doing that, instead getting up to go to your room. There’s simply too much on your mind, from your interview to a certain person that you can’t shake off.

Hearing your brother talking about work didn’t help, either. You wanna be able to help financially, even if he never expressly asks. If you manage to snag this interview, it’s possible that you can start contributing.

“Hey, listen.”

You turn. “Huh?”

Filling the middle of the hall, he seems to be in the same deep pit of thoughts as before. “There’s something you should know.”

“About what?”

“About th—”

A knock on the front door causes you both to flinch. Eyeing your sibling, you watch as he goes to open it after offering, “I’ll tell you later.”

You furrow your brows but wait to see who knocked, tensing when you hear who your brother welcomes in.

“Hey.”

“Sup.”

What the hell.

This is the second time Yoongi’s appeared at your house—two more times than the amount of chances you’ve spoken to each other since Friday morning.

But you can’t act weird around him. Last time was almost bad enough. So while the door closes, you only ask them out of curiosity and nothing else, “What are y’all about to do?”

As Yoongi looks right at you, your sibling replies—way too nonchalantly, “Got people coming over soon.”

“Tonight, too?” Why! Since when was your house the hottest one on the block? Did they always go this hard while you were away?

You check your phone while commenting the obvious, “It’s Sunday!”

Undeterred, the boys move into the living room, and you trail after them as your brother asks, “And? It’s not like you have school tomorrow or some shit.”

“I work? And so do you?”

“Relax. It’ll be chill this time.”

You have no damn clue what chill means to him, but if people are already coming then you can’t exactly argue anymore.

Plus. Yoongi’s here now—which, quite frankly, is already making you feel better.

It’s magical, really. How he’s able to make you feel more at home in your own house.

Eyes rolled, you find compromise, “Fine. At least lemme make something so I can eat in my room in peace.”

“Uh uh, you just made a plate!”

“I don’t want that.”

“Wow.”

You dismiss him with a flick of your wrist. “I’ll put it in the fridge, don’t worry.”

“Whatever. Hurry up and cook then. They’ll mooch.”

“Of course they will,” you scoff, already walking into the kitchen. “Crackheads.”

You finally hear a small huff of amusement, and your mood perks from that one, comforting sound alone.

God, you miss hearing that as often as possible. Which was strangely a lot, considering it’s Yoongi.

How long has it been? A mere two days?

According to your heart, it’s been weeks.

Maybe that’s why you aren’t afraid to address the both of them when you ask over running water, “Actually, can I get a little help?”

Yoongi lifts his head to regard you immediately, while your brother cranes his neck from beside him. “Really?”

“Uhh, yes? Y’all would get some, too.” Catching sight of Yoongi’s expression, you think you see something in his eyes. Something unexplainable, but yet so, strangely familiar.

It’s almost enough to send your words tripping over one another as you dry your hands. “I just, umm. I don’t want anyone else eating my food so I wanna hurry.”

“Our food,” your sibling corrects as he watches his friend walk up before he does. “Yoong, you can chill.”

“It’s cool.”

“He’s a better cook than you,” you chide from the fridge, giddy that Yoongi’s taking your offer but wait oh fuck did you really just say that out loud goddamn it—

“Hey, that’s not fair! That’s only cus he hogs grilling duty every time.”

“Could’ve always helped, you know.”

“Nuance.”

Good. So either your brother didn’t catch that or just figured you knew from those cookouts and parties. Totally not from cooking alongside his best friend for the better part of a week. Cool.

Clearing your perfectly fine throat, you set some foodstuffs on the island with dull thumps, letting both of them know what you want done with each part of the meal.

“Damn! You aren’t feeding the whole party?”

“Nope.” You hope Yoongi realizes what you’re about to make, and you smile at the same ingredients you used to cook what he brought to the studio. “Just us.”

When you spare him a quick glance, there’s something in his expression. It’s small. It’s subtle. But it’s there.

And it’s enough to know that he might be missing you, too.

“Are y’all done cutting?”

“Yeah, almost.”

“K. Ready when you are.”

While they’re both busy by the sink and talking about various things, you’ve been nursing the pots and pans on the stove.

In typical you fashion, you did end up caving, deciding to make a lot so that more people could eat. Cooking and serving usually go hand in hand, and you do enjoy seeing when someone likes what you made.

Plus, you need an excuse to see Yoongi’s reaction this time, since you were robbed when he ate at the studio. You aren’t asking for much, right? All you have to do is stick around for a bit so you can get some closure.

A vibration could be heard from the island, and all three of you turn from your makeshift stations.

It’s your brother’s phone. “Ah, shit. Lemme take this.”

You watch as he wipes his hands before swiping his device, squashing it to his ear with a shoulder. As he passes you, he just tilts his head,

“You can put mine in.”

“You could’ve just—”

“Hey! Y’all coming tonight?”

Your scoff follows him around the corner.

Why do you even ask him for help? He always does this!

Whatever.

You move to grab his stuff only to see Yoongi a few steps away with it already.

“Where do you want these.”

Oh.

All you have to do is answer him. Truthfully, you could just point and that would be enough.

But you can’t. You can barely take another breath with him looking at you, dressed in a set that has you weak with bangs lingering dangerously over his eyes.

He’s right there.

And you feel like he couldn’t be further away.

Swallowing your misery, you finally move and gesture to a pot. “This one.”

Without pause, Yoongi walks up next to you, sliding everything in and putting the cutting board down with a clunk.

Spices fill your nose as sizzling tickles your ears, but all of your focus is on wondering what he’s gonna do next.

Is he gonna walk away now? Keep acting distant? Tell you to stop blatantly staring when your brother could walk back in at any—

“Sesame.”

A blink. “Huh?”

He turns to look at you before shifting his eyes to a slim bottle on the counter. “There’s sesame oil this time.”

Ah.

You didn’t put that in last time because he didn’t have any.

How the hell did he remember? Even you didn’t think about that.

Lip bitten, you face your pan, shyness now accompanying your sadness.

Of course he would remember. Of course he would point that out. It’s so inherently him that your heart almost slips into the pan in front of you.

If only it were just the two of you still. You wouldn’t have to be on edge or worry about where you stand with him.

Though Tae’s label and Dom’s question still ring in your ears, those are going to stay nothing more than a dream. A wonderful scenario you can keep imagining at night, or during a confession scene, or simply while driving to a job you aren’t happy with.

“Yeah,” you whisper, hearing your brother’s voice move further across the house. “There is.”

“Fuck it, come here.”

You don’t even get to question what’s happening before your chin gets tugged and your lips seized, breath sucked all the way into your lungs while shoulders meet your ears.

Colors burst as Yoongi lets you go as quickly as he claimed you, and your vision spins as he darts his eyes between yours.

“You staying?”

Stars. Stars. Your eyes are stars. “Huh?”

“When they get here.”

“Why?”

Unwavering, he admits as plain as day,

“I wanna see you.”

He what?

Stunned, you start to say his name before you feel him squeeze your ass, tugging you flush against him and causing your stomach to backflip off a top rope because what the fuck?

“Also.” A bit of teeth shows behind his curve as his greeting glides out in a low, smug as fuck,

“Hi.”

…What the hell! What is he doing!

His laugh while you panic shove him off is aimed at the stove instead, and you’re left to gawk at his side profile for what feels like hours. And hours.

Yoongi did not just do that in your own house. No way. Absolutely no way.

As he spares you a quick glance again, his eyes roam across your face before he quietly hisses in mirth, grabbing a spatula and stirring what he dropped in the pan seconds—hours?—earlier.

Your breath finally returns when you hear your brother’s voice enter the hallway again. “Yoongi…”

“Hmm?” When he sees you watching him, his expression drops in a way that has you melting. “Shit, too much?”

“No, no. I just—” As much as you would replay that tiny moment over and over again, it only reminded your heart of better things. Of easier times. And it’s banging against your chest like an animal to the point where it physically hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts.

Fuck it.

Launching forward, you tug him back in for another kiss—rushed, desperate, simply not enough. Your nails dig into the soft material of his shirt, as if the animal inside of you is claiming prey after absolute starvation.

His lips are just as—

Footsteps and goodbyes sound off around the corner.

Retreating with all the willpower you have left, everything you’ve wanted to say over the past fifty or so hours comes out in three loaded syllables,

“I miss you.”

And you have to move away as your sibling enters the kitchen, eyes welling impossibly fast and lungs on fire.

“My bad! Got carried away.”

“Who was that?”

“Rohan.”

“He’s not coming.”

“Nah, he said he was.”

“Uh huh.”

While they converse, cold fridge air snaps you back into normalcy, and you pretend to rummage around for nothing before shutting it with a small thump. “Took you long enough,” you snip as you go to grab Yoongi’s cutting board, since he took your brother’s instead. “We’re almost done!”

“Ah, damn. I thought you’d be finished already.”

“Lazy!”

“Hey, I helped!”

“Useless.”

“What!”

A small snort leaves your nose as you bring Yoongi’s cuts to the stove, mind a little clearer despite his surprise attack.

Because even though your heart wants plenty more than whatever the hell just happened, your worries have retreated for now.

He kissed you.

He wants to see you.

Dom, as always, has been right this entire time.

You feel like you could fly with how light your shoulders feel. Even the food smells better and looks more appetizing.

Eyeing your brother across the kitchen, you ask with newfound glee, “Would you rather be lazy or useless?”

“Doesn’t matter if he’s both.”

“Bitch! Move over, I’m doing the rest.”

As your brother shoves into his friend’s side, he meets resistance as the latter pushes right back with a strained laugh.

Immediately, you back up as they struggle over the utensil, laughing in earnest and then some.

“Gimme the spoon!”

“No! You’re gonna fuck it up!”

“I’ll make it better if you just—”

“Hell no! Fuck off!”

Fools. Both of them are complete fools! Your cheeks legitimately hurt from seeing them wrestle over a goddamn spatula, so much so that it’s hard to form words.

It’s only when your brother knocks the pot a little too hard that you intervene with a string of sounds, “Stop, stop! You’re gonna knock it over!”

Both of them cease while you walk up to Yoongi’s other side. “How about you both fuck off and I finish by myself, yeah?”

Before either of them responds, the doorbell does, and your brother leaves immediately. “Coming!”

Which leaves you alone with Yoongi for mere seconds.

And he uses them to his complete advantage.

“Show me that sometime.”

Something is placed in your hand before you fully register what he means, and your jaw drops before he walks away with a goddamn smirk.

Motherfucker, he didn’t have to wink, too!

Breathing in, you curse him out before looking at the spatula you now possess, curling your fingers around the warm handle.

He wants to see you?

Texts be damned.

Greetings flow out of the entrance as a group of people arrive, and you smile while busying yourself at the stove. When you hear your name being called, you turn to say your hellos and let them all know food’s almost ready.

One of the guys almost steps foot into the kitchen to see what you’re making, but both Yoongi and your brother halt and spin him with light touches.

Sparing a glance at your sibling calling him impatient, you wonder if he knew Yoongi did the same thing.

But more and more people start coming in, and soon music fills the house to compete with pops of conversations.

Wasn’t tonight supposed to be relaxed? You don’t even think there’s enough food for everyone. While your brother starts pulling alcohol from the counter, you question with heavy judgment,

“This is a chill night?”

He looks out into the living room with a tsk. “Meant for it to be. Guess people just tagged along.” Grabbing a bag of solos from a cabinet, he apologizes, “Sorry.”

“Kick’em out early, please.”

“Yeah, I can.”

Everything you prepared smells divine. You even hear someone comment on the smell from a room over while you’re finishing up. After getting out disposable plates—because you can cook for people but you are not cleaning up after them—you announce that the food is ready.

“Thanks!”

“I’m starving.”

“You better not hog everything again.”

“It was one time.”

Standing at the bar, you watch as all your brother’s friends congregate in the kitchen, observing everyone’s conversations and keeping to yourself as much as possible.

Some of them you recognize from his team, and some of them you’ve known for quite awhile. It’s a lively bunch, and you admire your sibling for keeping up so many friendships all these years.

“Y’all better thank her. She made all this shit.”

Oh, god. So many eyes on you.

After the cacophony of gratitude and comments on the food, you smile without teeth. “Just leave a little for me. I’m still hungry.”

“K!”

You don’t trust hungry crowds, but at least you still have your brother’s leftovers in the fridge.

The doorbell rings again and, since you’re the closest, you vacate the bar and head to the front.

To your surprise, it’s Jimin waiting on the welcome mat—the man you need to thank for Dalo.

“Hey,” you greet instead, letting him in. “Anyone else with you?”

“Hello, love.” His smile is always so charming, and it currently contrasts with the all black fit and cap he’s sporting. “Just me.”

“There’s food in the kitchen,” you offer as the door closes with a thump. “If you’re hungry.”

Thank him, too. Just say thank you for what he didn’t need to do but did anyway.

“I just ate, thank you—hey!”

And your chance evaporates.

You watch as he starts his routine, saying hi until he’s gotten to everybody. The habits of a true host, you figure. He could run for council one day with those mannerisms, especially with a force like Taehyung by his side.

You really hope whatever they got going on works out.

Well. Maybe you can catch Jimin some other time tonight. There’s no point in doing it now.

When you get back to your spot at the bar, you see that another plate has materialized next to yours.

Did anyone take your seat? Is this someone’s food?

Glancing around, there isn’t anyone else other than someone getting their own portions. All the other people are scattered about the house or backyard.

Huh.

Despite feeling like a fly on a wall, sticking around is somewhat enjoyable. Not having to socialize too much takes some pressure off your shoulders, and sparing glances at Yoongi wearing one of his beloved tracksuits is always a plus.

Your brother said he’s been sucked into his phone often, but you haven’t noticed that tonight. He’s mostly been talking and listening to people, even smiling and joking a bit, too.

“Wait, didn’t one of y’all tag that abandoned pool before?”

“No?”

“Yes, you did! Wait, no. It was Yoongi!”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Oh. I swore it was. It was sick, too.”

“Okay, maybe it was me.”

Laughter erupts as he grins into his cup.

“You and Jimin, man. Troublemakers.”

The latter lazily points in defense. “Doesn’t count if you don’t get caught.”

“That’s even worse.”

“You guys were terrible.”

“Hey,” Yoongi pipes up, room hinging on his set brows and waiting on his argument. But, after a pause, all that comes out is confident agreement, “We still are.”

And more laughs pierce the surrounding furniture.

Even from your position a ways away, you hunch forward in your amusement. But there’s another reason for your grin.

He’s so handsome when he’s happy.

Has he always been like this around his friends? You know Yoongi’s not the extroverted type, but to see him so comfortable around people makes you feel at ease.

Except when his eyes shift to you.

Because it feels like you’re the only person he’s acknowledging in those moments, which throws all thoughts and feelings into a stew that rivals what you made tonight.

All the times before, you’ve turned or scurried away.

But now, you decide to exude pure joy from your lonely spot on a wall, and you see a brilliant spark take root in his eyes.

A half hour later, you still wanna thank Jimin for what he did, and you finally get your chance when he enters the kitchen to refill a cup.

Coming up next to him, you grab a little liquor of your own before you blurt over the music,

“Thank you.”

Jimin looks your way, eyes watching over the lid of his solo.

“For Dalo.”

Straightening, he shrugs. “No need.”

“But I’ve been wanting to.”

“Not surprising,” he says through a smile. “You and your brother. So stubborn. You can text me, you know.”

Laughing, you take a sip and let the subtle burn slide down your throat. “I think he’d interrogate you if you were texting me.”

“I can take him.”

Jimin will forever be Jimin. It’s admirable, really. If he was the one you were seeing, who knows how many texts would have been sent since Friday.

But he’s not.

The one you’ve been seeing is a room over, someone you haven’t been able to approach since he stole oxygen from your lungs.

You thought watching Yoongi having fun would be enough. But with each passing minute, you found yourself increasingly incorrect. Yearning took over like a weed, quickly overrunning your chest and making it hard for you to accept being a mere wallflower.

Just like the sear of alcohol, something else settles into your stomach. And it’s not pleasant, or wanted.

Even if you dated Yoongi, how the hell could you navigate that? There’s no way things can just change and suddenly you’re sitting right beside him at parties. Or anywhere. At least, not without his friends giving you strange looks or past hookups chucking malice your way.

Some of them can even be here right now. Which you would rather not think about, so your next sip is bigger than the last.

Because all you’ve been is a younger sister. Not really part of their group or age or whatever else that separates your world from theirs.

People say to look at the bigger picture.

But you don’t particularly like the way yours is turning out.

Fuck, your heartbeat is super, super loud right now.

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

Instantly, sounds and voices reach normal clarity. The heavy thumps you hear aren’t your pulse, but bass from the music instead. When you blink, Jimin is already regarding you with curiosity, a hand on your arm in concern.

Shit. How long were you just standing there? “Oh. Just thinking.”

“About Dalo?” He slides his palm off, leaving a million questions in its wake. “It’s okay, really.”

“No, not that,” you sigh, nostrils singed from your drink. Staring out the kitchen windows, you respond as airily as the smoke that drifts over your back porch. “Not that at all.”

“Basketball? Ah, yeah.”

Huh?

You whip your stare to his, which causes his jaw to shut in an instant.

Because either he really just wanted to bring that up again, or he misheard you terribly over the music.

Miraculously, your opportunity presented itself. So you are not letting it slip by this time. “What about it.”

“Nothing.”

Fuck that. Frowning, you don’t back down. “What do you mean, Jimin. You said you would tell me.”

“I figured you would’ve known by now.”

“No one’s told me shit.”

Unblinking, you watch as he licks his lips in thought. You hear a few feet on the kitchen tile, but nothing can stop you from getting this information now. Not stares, nor whispers, or even your brother.

And he seems to pick up on your determination. He’s the one that called you stubborn, after all. Eyes shadowed by the rim of his hat, he sighs in defeat, “I’ll tell you, but. I feel like either of them should instead.”

You find that your fingers actually grip the side of his shirt. “Please,” you whisper. “Now I’m starting to get worried.”

Because what in the hell could be so significant about that day? It’s better if your brother or Yoongi tell you instead? What the hell does that mean?

After several grueling seconds, Jimin waits until the last people leave the kitchen. You observe the way his eyes covertly scan, and you peer over your own shoulder to gauge the room.

Finally, his voice drifts through the empty air when he surrenders, “Okay. After you left… Something went down.”

Your hand drops from his side. “What?”

“Uhh.” He steps back and fixes his cap, eyes storming with conflict. “Fuck, I really shouldn’t be the one telling you.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Because now? Now you need to know. Your heart is pounding and you’re pretty sure the next song is good but you can’t exactly hear it. All you’re focused on is what he is going to tell you. Because he gave you a bite and now you’ll fight for the entire course.

But no further coercion is needed. Jimin continues, seemingly unable to look your way. “Some dude made some threats.”

“Threats? To who?”

He glances at you before sighing. And you have to answer yourself.

“Oh. Me? What the fuck?”

“I told you—”

“Jimin… Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I can’t speak for them, but. They probably just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Were they really that bad?”

He prods a cheek before divulging the last, most crucial part. “He threatened to find this house, so. Yeah.”

Well. That’s definitely a lot worse than you thought. You can take empty threats; everyone goes through shit like that. But for someone to threaten to find an address? Were they really… That…

Serious?

Hold on.

Hold on hold on hold on.

Your words feel like suspense itself on your tongue.

“Wait, so… That whole time…”

Jimin just stares—stares, and stares, and stares—while everything hits you like a train.

The whole week.

That entire time.

Yoongi was keeping you safe.

The key. The goading you into coming over. The way he kept looking over his shoulder while you walked at night. Telling you that Jimin knows.

This also explains why Jimin freaked out at Taehyung’s place. When he overheard that you weren’t responding.

A chill pops in your chest like dry ice, freezing everything over in seconds.

You heard Yoongi saying something went down when your brother came home. Voice shaking, you ask Jimin even though your heart knows the answer,

“Was… Was the guy at Dalo…?”

He sets his cup down before gripping the counter in both palms, and he doesn’t need to say anything else.

“Almost lost our goddamn minds.”

You start feeling your fingers tremble before a hand clamps over your mouth.

Fuck.

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

No wonder the fucker looked familiar; no wonder it felt so off; no wonder Jimin’s heart was racing as much as yours was.

Everything in your brain is spinning, thoughts leaping from one end to the next and bumping and screeching and popping and—

You need something. You don’t know what. Yoongi. Your room. To be alone. His place. Nowhere. Is it stuffy in here? You need space. Space.

Space.

“Thank you,” you rush out. “For telling me.”

And you quickly excuse yourself, almost missing the pair of eyes watching your hasty exit to your bedroom.

Everything’s completely blurry when your door shuts behind you. Cursing, you run your hand across your nose before a storm of thoughts jolts your body.

It’s too much.

The feelings swirling in your chest have no place to go but out of your ducts, pinging onto your floor and into your clothes.

Are you overthinking this? No. You think and think and think but by god you are pretty damn sure about this one.

Why would he do that? No one has ever gone these lengths for you. At least, no one other than your brother, who’s had it ingrained in his blood since forever.

But Yoongi didn’t have to go this far. Neither did Jimin, for that matter. They both could’ve just passed it off as a bluff, or forgotten about it as soon as the next day rolled around.

Fucking hell, how they must’ve felt at Dalo.

There’s an unspeakable pang in your chest just thinki—

Your phone’s vibrations scare the shit out of you, and you check to see who texted before another hot batch of tears roll down your face.

Yoongi [10:04pm]: What’s wrong, doll

Goddamn it.

What do you even—why did he—how are you supposed to answer? All you want to do is wrap yourself in his embrace and never leave. You wanna walk past everyone in your house and stand in front of him, if only to tell him a thousand and one thank-you’s by catapulting yourself into his arms.

But you can’t do any of that. And it sucks.

You [10:06pm]: he told me

You [10:06pm]: about basketball

You stumble to your bathroom, bracing yourself on your counter before removing all the gunk from today in a wash.

It’s not like you’re going back out there. Not after looking like a legitimate trainwreck.

After you’re done, you see that he texted back, throat constricting at his continued concern. Always his concern. Always his effort.

Holy fuck, his effort.

Yoongi [10:09pm]: Talk to me

You [10:17pm]: i really fucking want to

You [10:17pm]: but i can’t

Yoongi [10:18pm]: Gimme ten

What? He’s not gonna leave and call you, is he? It’s late but it’s not super late. If he dips out now, wouldn’t that be too early?

Well, your brother did say he was leaving early all weekend. Probably to work on something.

But regardless. You can’t position yourself as someone that makes him leave just out of selfishness. He can still have fun while he’s here. You can wait.

After what you heard, you can wait as long as he needs.

You [10:20pm]: what no. you don’t have to leave

Yoongi [10:20pm]: I know

A sniffle.

What the hell did you do to deserve any of this?

As you settle into the cold of your sheets, you let out a few more tears.

Because now, more than ever, you wanna run right for that godforsaken finish line.

Though it’s been more than ten minutes, you don’t mind. If anything, Yoongi’s given you time to process everything, tears hardening on your cheeks and soaking into your pillowcase.

Even before he gave you that key, he was protecting you in his own ways. For fuck’s sake, he even came over the day your brother flew out, probably just to check on you. So many things. So many nights.

Recalling how you joked about walking home, now you feel downright awful if you scared him somewhat.

When he finally calls, your throat tightens, but you answer the phone regardless.

“Hey, doll.”

His voice is a salve for your wounds. “Yoongi… Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

You hear a long sigh, the low hum of his car filling the space right after.

“Fucking Park.”

“I made him tell me,” you defend. “Since no one else ever said anything.” Waiting, you trace your fingers along one of the divots in your sheets. And you’re unsurprised when you realize it’s in the spot he took residence before.

“I’d rather you worry about normal shit.”

You freeze.

“You don’t ever need to worry about that.”

The entirety of every language you know escapes you. For his explanation renders you speechless.

Jimin was correct in his assumption. But it doesn’t take away from how you feel. How grateful, how terrible, how indescribable you feel.

That’s a long time to shoulder something and not say a word about it. And from his reaction, you don’t think he planned on saying anything at all. “But that whole time… You…”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

He’s downplaying. Why is he downplaying? From the way Jimin spoke, those threats weren’t light. And Yoongi cannot tell you it was nothing considering how he acted after Dalo.

Fuck.

After Dalo.

How he was the whole night after suddenly cakes your throat to the brim.

Because it was already enough to make you rethink some things. But now? After knowing the whole truth?

Fucking hell, Min Yoongi.

A wave of emotion cradles you into its swell, and you feel something warm spread throughout every fibre of your being. It’s comforting, it’s peaceful, it’s healing.

Suddenly, even the normal shit doesn’t seem worrisome at all.

Breath shuddering, your chest aches so much that you almost consider sneaking out of your window to follow him back home. “He told me,” you whisper into the line, tears threatening to splash onto your screen. “The guy at Dalo.”

A curse shoots out before you’re back to hearing the ambiance of the drive.

Yoongi really didn’t want you to know that part, it seems.

And truthfully, you get it. You don’t think you would’ve told anyone something like that, either.

“Jimin knew not to let me get you. You haven’t noticed, but. I still have a big ass bruise from him shoving me into the bar.”

“Yoongi.” You have to know. It’s not enough to know what happened. Now you need to know something deeper. And it’s not even out of worry; it’s out of pure curiosity. “Why?”

“Because we were asked to.”

…Huh?

You didn’t know that was the case. Your brother was the one that asked them? There couldn’t be anyone else that Yoongi was referring to.

How did that guy get out alive if he threatened you in front of your brother? What all actually happened?

“And I was gonna anyways.”

Breathing in, you still can’t believe it. You can’t believe anything that’s been said or revealed to you in the last hour or so.

Fuck, even your brother having people over makes sense. He wants to be home instead of leaving you in the house.

They all did so much. So much more than you even realized. “You even stayed... That night.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave you alone.”

Oh, it hurts. Your chest hurts like it’s never, ever hurt before. It’s hard to even form the right sentences, when all you can think about is him. “Yoongi… Thank you.”

“It’s all good. When’s your interview?”

Disbelief shoots from your mouth.

That’s what he decides to talk about now? After this massive revelation that he didn’t speak a word of for a week?

Who knows. This could just be a normal, everyday happening that Yoongi is used to. It may not mean much at all in his grand scheme of things.

But to you? To you, this means more than everything.

So much is choked up in your throat that it leaks out of your eyes. When you finally respond, you hope that he can’t tell you’re crying.

“It’s… It’s on Tuesday. After work.” You can’t help but let a sound slip. How the fuck can Yoongi be so normal about all of this? You feel like you can barely function. “Still nervous as fuck.”

You know he knows you’re crying. But he doesn’t comment on it at all. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is assurance.

“You’ll be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Just cus.”

Unbelievable. And yet completely him. Your palm comes up to wipe gratitude and a myriad of other emotions from your eyes.

This entire time.

You don’t think you’ll ever stop thinking about this.

And you have a pretty fucking good excuse to not overthink about him anymore.

“That’s a really lame answer.”

“Did it work?”

“A little.”

“Good.”

A tiny hum escapes through your clogged throat. If only he wasn’t driving further and further away. Wasn’t he the one that made you comfortable here?

You think you understand how. Maybe a part of your heart left with him after he stayed the night. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of it is packing up and fighting to escape your rib cage.

“You should go, doll.”

“No.”

His slight laugh is comfort in a sound.

“At least go back out for a sec. Get some water or something.”

“Okay…”

Despite agreeing, you find that you’re far from being done. How could you be? You wanna stay as long as he lets you. Brain whirring, you grab hold of anything you can use as an excuse to keep him on the line.

And you end up settling for something safe. “Wait, where’s my copy of your album?”

He responds with amusement again, but immediately takes the bait.

“I don’t even have the masters yet.”

“Liar. You must have at least one.”

There’s a brief pause before he admits,

“Okay, maybe I have one.”

“I knew it!”

“You caught that way too quick.”

“Yeah, you better watch out.”

“Agreed.”

“You know.. This whole time,” you start, rueful puffs of air fanning onto your receiver, “I’ve been wondering if I could talk to you again.”

“I thought you just forgot about me.”

“Huh?”

Quite possibly the most untrue statement in history.

“You never texted, so. I never knew when it was a good time.”

He laughs, seemingly to himself.

“Then a whole weekend passed.”

Staring into your ceiling, you frown. “You’re joking.”

“Dead serious.”

“Wow.”

“I almost called you. Like three fucking times.”

“Really?”

“For nothing, too. You know I had a cat at my door two days in a row?”

“Nu uh. A stray?”

“Think so. I left some water out but didn’t have any food. Fuck, I need to go to the store.”

You hear Yoongi get out of his car, and you wish you were there with him walking to his apartment. You’d probably be able to see his newfound pet. “You know you have a cat now, right?”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

“No chance.”

“It’s there now, huh.”

The silence on the line is your answer.

“Listen—”

“See—”

“It is. But it’s leaving now.”

“Is it really.”

You hear a shuffle of sounds, and in your heart of hearts you know he’s bending down to pet the damn thing.

But his pride makes his answer noncommittal.

“Mm.”

“Oh my god, another lie! Such a liar.”

Mirth fills your speaker, and you can hear his smug ass smile.

“Nu uh.”

“I can’t with you. I’m hanging up.”

You hear the distinct jangle of keys, and that one sound alone breaks your facade.

“I lied. I don’t wanna go.”

His door shuts, and you can imagine him padding through his place after slipping off his shoes. He had really nice ones on today, so they’re probably going into those neat, clear bins he uses for more coveted pairs.

“Just call me later.”

“When?”

“When he’s passed out.”

“Okay… Do I have to go now?”

“Mm. I’m almost done with something I wanna show you.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. And you’re distracting me so hang up.”

“You called me!”

“So?”

“Wow. Goodbye, babe.”

There’s a quiet moment. Then a quiet, rueful huff of breath.

“Talk later, doll.”

And the phone is suddenly silent.

While your head is as loud as can be.

A couple hours pass before you hear your brother finally knocked out.

After hanging up earlier, you did venture out of your room to get water. Of course, you made yourself presentable and not snot-nosed before leaving. Couldn’t let anyone immediately wonder if you were okay or not.

Because while you got closure about what happened, it’s still so full of emotion that you think you’ll break if you have to speak about it again.

Jimin spotted you before you stepped back into your room, but he only offered a smile after your mouth curved upward in perpetual thankfulness.

In that moment, you decided to give your brother some credit, too.

For everything that he’s done thus far. And for picking an elite group of close friends.

Inching up against his door, you place your ear on the wood, hearing the rush of air before telltale snoring rumbles through.

So it isn’t long before you’re back in your room, calling back the man you will never get over as long as you live.

“I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“Really? Why?”

“Fully expected you to chicken out.”

Huffing in pride, you settle onto your sheets. “I like proving you wrong.”

“I see that.”

“So what were you gonna show me?”

“Huh? Nah, I’m still not done.”

Giving your phone a weird look, you note, “You said to call back.”

There’s a mix of scratching sounds on the line, and you wonder if he’s at his desk or in his bed.

“Yeah.”

“So…?”

“Just felt like making you come.”

Fuck!

“Yoo—” You slap a hand over your mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

The grin in his voice can be heard for miles.

“You don’t wanna?”

Is this man for real? Yes, you’ve spoken on the phone when your brother was here and yes, you want to jump his goddamn bones. But this is definitely crossing into dangerous territory. “I…I do, but—”

“Then do as I say. It won’t take long.”

“Cocky son of a bitch,” you whisper, already frazzled to no end. It seems your lips get a lot looser, more unfiltered the more caught off-guard you are.

You wonder if Yoongi’s caught onto that. Judging from the chuckles you hear in your speaker, he probably already has.

“You ever done this before?”

“No.”

“Then trust me.”

Settling far under your covers and placing pillows around, you whisper, “Fine… You better not charge me for this.”

A hum buzzes the line.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me to pay up.”

“Oh. Good idea. I will now.”

“Gonna run me dry, huh?”

“Mmhmm. Plus interest.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Just missed you.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Keep whatever shirt you got on, forget the rest. You’re gonna need it in a sec.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, slowly reaching down to slip off your bottoms. Your heart is already racing, and the warmth under your covers is increasing bit by bit. “They’re off now.”

“Good girl.”

Air leaves your lungs, but it’s what he says next that causes you to outright flinch.

“What did I tell you to show me.”

Shuddering, your hand is already palming your mound, but all you can think about is how much better it would be to have him there. “Yoongi…”

“Careful, doll. Neighbors can’t know my name just yet.”

Lip bitten, you admit, “I just wish you were here.”

“Fuckin’ same. But do what makes you feel good.”

Swallowing nothing, you dip low, feeling your essence coat your fingers even though you haven’t even started yet.

This man can probably make you come from his voice alone.

But you don’t need to admit that to him.

“You wet, baby girl?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. Keep going for me.”

Swirling your fingers over your clit always works, but the thoughts and images running across your eyes are what really get you bothered.

The way Yoongi’s fingers feel in your cunt instead; the sounds he isn’t afraid to make in your ear; the roughness he unleashes on you in those moments he lets go. You can practically hear his grunts, feel his thrusts, taste his sweat.

And this is the same man that kept you safe?

It’s all so overwhelming that you don’t even notice how hard you’re breathing.

“Sound so fucking hot.”

A whimper escapes.

How can he say that when he sounds like sin incarnate?

Everything he’s said to you, whether in his right mind or not, comes washing over you in waves. Your fingers find a rhythm as you run through the whole week, and you throw in a few scenarios that you dare not bring up.

Well. Maybe you will now. Frankly, you want to be under his mercy more than you ever have before. It’s as if his selflessness unlocked a deep, dark part of you, begging to be addressed.

The things that are coming to mind. They’re gathering on your tongue, pooling into thick saliva that’s threatening to spill out the side of your mouth. “I miss…”

“Hmm.”

Let it all out.

“I miss being your slut, Yoongi.”

The deep curse on the line sends jolts to your core, and his next words rumble out like thunder.

“My slut, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Tell me something then.”

Your fingers slow down their pace as your ears perk. “What.”

“No lies.”

“Okay.”

“What does my needy girl want?”

Fucking hell, he can’t just say stuff like that with no warning! Immediately, you let out a tiny whine as your digits glide against your slick. “Choke me.”

“Knew you’d love that shit. What else.”

Admitting the first was a lot easier than the second. You can’t even bring yourself to utter it in a whisper let alone loud enough for him to hear. Truthfully, just imagining it right now is enough to get you close to the edge. Your voice comes out extremely strained as you whimper, “I can’t say.”

“You can.”

“Nu uh.”

“Then stop.”

Your hand grinds to an agonizing halt. “What?”

“You heard what I said. Until you tell me, you’re done.”

No! No no no you were so fucking close! “Asshole!”

“Me? I’m letting you off easy.”

“Fuck. Okay… I…”

“You..”

He isn’t helping.

Gulping, you feel your cunt pulse around your fingers as you finally shudder out, “My mouth.”

“Uh huh. What about it.”

“Umm…” Say it. Just say it and get it over with all you need to do is just say it.

So you do.

“Spit in my mouth.”

Only to face complete silence on the line.

Blinking into darkness, you almost take your hand away from your center before you hear his voice grind over boulders,

“Don’t make me climb through your fucking window.”

A whine slips between your closed lips. If he came into your room now, you wouldn’t have cared if every deity in existence overheard what would happen. The amount of lust and something scarier you’re carrying for this man is at an all-time peak. “Don’t tease me. I want it.”

“I just might, fuck.”

“Yes,” you pant, knowing exactly what he means by his broken speech. “Yes. Oh, fuck, I’m close. Yoongi, please!”

“Shirt, doll.”

“What?”

His voice sounds like he’s barely holding on when he grits out,

“Bite that shit you’re wearing or I’m hanging up.”

“I—mmph—”

“I’d shut you up with my dick, but. That should do.”

Fuck! Your squeal is incredibly high as your fingers keep up a stunning pace, the shocks of pleasure tightening your legs.

You hear a condescending laugh on the line, and you don’t know the logic behind it turning you on so much, but it does.

“Goddamn. It’s like you want everyone to hear you, baby girl.”

You shake your head, breaths shallow and fast, knowing damn well he can’t see you.

“You’re getting off on this, huh.”

“Mm mm!”

“Uh huh.”

Another stupid, unnecessary laugh punctures straight into your cunt.

“Getting off on doing something you shouldn’t.”

“Mmm!”

“My girl’s so dirty.”

“Yoough—”

You can’t take it anymore. At a label you didn’t expect to hear, your dam bursts, gushing out onto your fingers and spilling from your core.

It’s massive. Unrelenting. All of your pent-up feelings come in waves, washing you ashore only to drag you back in. The harsh groan you sink into your shirt makes Yoongi react, and your legs threaten to close before he orders,

“Uh uh, keep going, baby. Since you wanna slut it out so bad.”

“Fughk!”

“God, you probably look so fucked out right now. Miss that shit.”

You rip the soaking shirt from your mouth, already close while you keep your fingers wedged inside. Your body thrums with each hard pulse, and imagining him fucking you deep is enough to set you off. “Yoongi. Baby. I’m close again.”

“Then shut the fuck up and come.”

You moan his name into the thick material of your top, hoping to every higher power that it’s muffled enough.

Your walls pulse wildly around your fingers, and you feel so fucking euphoric that your eyes see sounds in the back of your head.

But your back snaps into place again as you settle back onto your mattress, muscles aching and filled with a lingering soreness. The only thing you can do is breathe heavily into the receiver, hoping Yoongi’s just as satisfied as you are.

“Feel better?”

“Much better,” you rasp out as the wet material slides down your neck. “You?”

“I’ve been waiting for this since you kissed me. So yeah.”

Ever since then? That was hours ago.

You need to inhale before offering, “Do you… Do you wanna come, too?”

A chuckle.

“I got what I wanted, doll. It’s cool.”

“I take…” You gulp in a breath. “I take cash or card.”

A loud bit of laughter punctuates your phone, and your grin is lopsided from exhaustion. Sweat coats every single part of your skin, some of it rolling off your legs in spent drops.

“God…”

“So pay up.”

“How about this. Come over when you’re done with that interview.”

“Mm?”

“Then I will.”

“Mm.”

What he offered finally registers in your brain, and it’s like a humongous light switch. Suddenly alert, you clarify, “Wait. You sure?”

“I am.”

Is he really offering that? You both know your brother is back. And your interview may end during late afternoon. Around the time he gets off.

Yoongi has to know all of these things.

But if he’s truly serious, who are you to deny his offering? When you find yourself caring less and less? “K… Guess I’ll go clean up now.”

“Mm. I’m gonna pass out soon anyway.”

“Wait.”

“Hmm.”

A grin spreads your face so wide that it starts to hurt, and excitement to hear his reaction tingles you before you joke, “Where’s my kiss?”

He laughs, knowing exactly what you mean.

And your smile is impossibly wider when he responds,

“Good luck, babe.”

This whole weekend.

This entire weekend, you’ve been worried about various things. Bogged down by a past that clings to your feet like quicksand, dragging you away from wonderful, tender things you’ve been told.

But it seems like you found a step of solid footing. One sure, stable piece of foundation that has probably been there for longer than you’d known.

Besides. Walking to a finish line is just as significant as running. Because if you get there, you get there, and that’s a win.

“Thank you. Seriously.” You pause, gazing at the empty space that you want occupied for an uncountable amount of nights. “For everything.”

“I meant what I said, doll.”

Your smile is warm.

“Anytime.”

tbc. :)

A/N: ahhh. so. how did it go? i just wanna say, to everyone that sent that damn tweet of a guy doing the little things to protect his girl and saying it’s 3tan yoongi... i wanted to scream every time bc of THIS. LOL. but yeah, we finally get to hear about wtf happened during basketball. as for the actual scene..... y’all might get that later, too :’)) i just want this chapter to be out for a little bit beforehand so people can read it first. A/N 2: as always, thank you so much for all of the support. whether you’re new, or an OG, i truly appreciate you being here and going on this journey with me and the 3tan crew. i’m still just a bit sick and sniffly (totally not bc of yoongi what who does that?) so the writing may not be top tier. but i hope this was still worth the wait! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

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leclerced · 3 months

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lando with a girlfriend that has a very complicated hair care routine and it confused him at first but she taught him about it and now he takes better care of his hair. I’m absolutely a sucker for self care and smth about him and his girlfriend taking care of themselves together just drives me insane. in a very soft mood right now, but I can’t help it. someone needs to protect his curls 😔

🩰

pls i tried having a curly hair routine for like a year but ive reverted and gone back to straightening it once a week bc its less work /:

the first time lando stays over, she says she’s going to shower and he wants to join. she immediately tells him this is a real shower, no fun. he thinks he can convince her until he sees all the products and she starts telling him about his routine. it’s torture for him watching her wash her body, exfoliate, use an in shower moisturizer. after her body routine, she uses a deep cleansing shampoo, followed by her regular shampoo and after rinsing, starts massaging her scalp with a massager and follows that with a deep conditioning treatment. after rinsing her conditioner, she uses a scalp treatment and a repair mask on the ends. while it sits she might shave or massage her scalp more. then she finally rinses her hair and he thinks she’s finally done. he’d have washed his hair and entire body while she was doing her three step body routine and just watched the rest, swapping places with her when she needed out of the water stream.

he gets out of the shower and tries dragging her to bed before she can even touch her robe. she pushes him away and tells him to wait, throws him a towel and wraps herself in her robe and her hair in a microfiber towel. he thinks she’s teasing him when she rubs lotion on while he watches, but it’s just to lock in moisture from the shower. then she brushes her teeth and does her entire skin care routine, and he’s again thinking she’s done, until she lets her hair down and begins another routine, creams and gels and oils, scalp massaging and combing. its like a two hour process from start to finish and he wonders what it feels like to be so pampered. when she finally puts on pajamas and crawls into bed, he asks how often she does that and she’s like, “which part? that was like an everything shower, i won’t do all of that tomorrow, and i’ll do a different skincare routine in the morning because that’s my night skincare routine, and it’s a thursday, so tomorrow night i have to use different products because there’s certain ones you don’t use two days in a row, y’know?” lando nods and agrees even thought he has no clue what she’s talking about.

he wakes up while she’s doing her morning routine and is offended she started without him because he wanted to see what was different. she stops and shows him what she did and then continues once he’s caught up. then she offers to let him use the products or asks him about his skin and shows him all the products she has and what they’re for, pulling out the ones she bought and never used because they didn’t work for her. he goes to shower later and asks her about her hair products and she immediately offers to join and show him. he’s thinking shower sex again, but she showers with him and tells him about each of them again while washing his hair and massaging his scalp.

he’d pretend to be neutral about it when they get out and she asks if he wants her to keep going and do the rest of her routine with him, like, “yeah sure if you want to” but he’s honestly dying for her to keep running her fingers through his hair. he sits on the toilet while she does her routine on his hair and then she shows him what her skincare routine for the night is and they do it together. they keep doing it every morning and night and the first time he’s away at a race, he calls her from a beauty store asking her what products he needs to buy to do their routine and she’s like, “oh you’re like, actually doing it?” and he’d whine, “well yeah? i didn’t think i’d need to, so i didn’t bring anything and my skin feels awful. so now i’m supposed to do a deep cleanse on my hair tonight and i can’t remember which one we use.” she tells him to pick one he likes, but to make sure it’s for curly hair, and he tells her, “no, i want the same shampoo because it smells like you.” she just about melts inside and rushes to the bathroom to send him a photo to ensure he gets the right one, and then sends him photos of all the other products he needs for his routine. he facetimes her after his shower because he wants to do his routine with her, and she’d have been waiting for his call to start hers because she had a feeling he would want to.

#ask #🩰 anon #i was like aw this is cute i’ll write a little #*writes 700 words*

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joeshiestyslover · 1 year

Text

i hate u

pairing: lsu!fratboy!joe burrow x volleyballplayer!reader

summary: you and joe were together before he transferred to lsu, when he broke your heart, but what happens when you end up transferring to the same college?

warnings: language, angst, joe’s an asshole

a/n: i got some inspo from a request and tied in a sza song bc i love her. also there will be a part 2

lowercase intended

masterlist

today’s the day your entire life changes, but little do you know, in more ways than one. a couple months ago just before your junior year ended, you were offered an athletic scholarship to play volleyball for lsu instead of ohio state. you immediately accepted because as much as you love your home state, you were tired of sitting on the bench waiting to finally play on the court. lsu offered you a starting position, so you would’ve been crazy to not say yes.

you’re ready to leave ohio behind and forget the bad memories, well one bad memory in particular. you began dating your childhood best friend in college, after waiting for him to love you back your entire childhood. ever since you met, you both were inseparable, doing absolutely everything together, including college when you both were accepted to ohio state. the moment you started dating, you were the happiest you had been in a long time, and that happiness you thought would last forever, it only lasted three years.

he decided to transfer from ohio state to lsu to play football because he was never given the chance to be starting quarterback, and lsu just happened to give him that chance. you were worried at first because he was going to be the furthest away that he had ever been, but he was quick to reassure you everything was going to be fine and that he was never going to forget about you or neglect you.

oh, how you wish you never believed his bullshit lies.

after a couple weeks of him being in louisiana, he started to call less, basically ignoring your entire existence. you had planned to talk to him about it one night over facetime, but that morning you received a text from him that simply read, i think we need to take a break. you texted and called himnumerous times, trying to get him to explain, but he never responded or picked up your calls. after hundreds of unread texts and voicemails, you gave up. you still tried to keep up with him, looking at his social media accounts, until one day, when you checked a post he was tagged in, you saw him at a party making out with a girl that was perched on his lap. your heart broke, and you decided to block him on everything so you could move on; something that he had clearly already done.

you are currently carrying the last of your boxes into your dorm room, chatting with your new roommate, eve. “so, why’d you transfer here again?” she asks you. “volleyball. i was tired of sitting on the bench all season.” you respond. “all season? damn.” “yeah i know. it fucking sucked, but that’s why i’m here now.” you tell eve. you finally finish carrying your boxes, and you decide to unpack tomorrow. you lie down onto your bed with a huff, “i forgot how much i hate moving.” you joke. suddenly, you hear a knock at your door, and eve jumps up to answer it. as she opens the door, she exclaims, “joe!”

no. it can’t be.

“oh my god, you have to meet my new roommate. y/n! come over here and meet joe!” you stand up, and slowly start to make your way towards the door. you look at the man in front of you, and make eye contact with him. “y/n!” joe exclaims. “it’s good to see you!” you only offer a small smile in return. “wait, do you two know each other?” eve questions, looking between you and joe. “umm just in passing.” you say, and joe gives you a confused look. “okay? me and joe are going to a party, so i probably won’t be back until after you fall asleep; so i’ll see you later, alright?” eve says. “yeah okay.” you reply as she walks out with joe. as you shut the door, you lean your back against it. “oh my fucking god this can’t be happening to me.” you say quietly to yourself.

the next few days go by relatively smooth, with you finding your way around, getting your jersey along with your practice schedule, and adjusting to your new classes. you even were able to make a friend in your econ class, ja’marr. ja’marr told you that he’s a wide receiver for the football team, so you knew that he knows joe as well. about a week later, your roommate asks you the question you’ve been dreading. “how do you really know joe because the way he looked at you made it seem there’s more to the two of you than you let on.” you didn’t know how to answer her. you want to tell the truth, but do you want to trust someone you barely know with one of your worst memories?

“if i tell you this, you cannot tell anyone, okay?” you tell her seriously. she nods, waiting for you to continue. “so, joe and i sorta dated back when we both went to ohio state.” “oh my god really?” she asks, shocked. “wait, there’s more. not only did we date, we were best friends since like childhood. he was literally my next-door neighbor.” eve’s jaw drops. “what happened between you two?” she inquires. “he broke up with me a couple weeks after he transferred here, over text.” “no! over text?! what a douche!” she exclaims. “i know, but after a while, i got over it, and now i’m here.” you say to her. “holy shit. that’s so fucked up, and i promise i won’t tell anyone.” “thank you eve.” you tell her. “but i am going to give you my honest opinion. i think you should talk to joe.” “no.” you have no interest in talking to that sleazeball. “why not? you two can finally clear the air and move on! don’t you want that?” eve tries to reason. “if he wanted to clear the air, he would have done that when he first broke up with me instead of being a coward and not responding to my texts or calls.” you state.

almost on cue, you hear a knock at the door, maybe it’s one of eve’s friends. you really hope so. “oh hi joe. can you give me and y/n a sec? thanks.” she shuts the door, and you stand up from your bed. “do not tell me you brought him here eve!” you raise your voice slightly. “listen i had no idea about your history with him, so i invited him over here yesterday to watch a movie. i’m so sorry!” eve apologizes. “it’s fine. i’ll just go. text me when he leaves.” “come on, y/n! i think he actually wants to see you!” she says. “well, tough because i don’t want to see him.” you begin to walk towards the door. “please! just stay for a little while! if it gets too much for you, i’ll ask him to leave. please stay.” eve begs. “fine, but you owe me big time.”

eve opens the door, and there stands the boy you fell in love with almost twenty years ago. you briefly make eye contact before looking back at your roommate. “okay joe, come on in. i’ll put on the movie.” you try your best not to look at his face as you both sit down on the beanbags on your floor. the awkward silence deafening until joe speaks up, “so y/n, how have you been?” “umm since you broke my heart, then ran off like a coward? oh i’m just peachy keen!” you say back to him sarcastically, not bothering to make eye contact with him. your remark seems to shut him up until eve comes back over to the both of you after starting the movie.

all throughout the movie, you notice joe stealing glances at you every so often, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t doing the same. once the movie’s over, you’re waiting for eve to kick his sorry ass out of your dorm. for some reason, he isn’t leaving, and you try to get eve’s attention, but she’s too caught up in some conversation with joe. finally, eve walks over to you, and joe is still not leaving. “so umm, i know i said i would tell him to leave, but he wants to talk to you.” she says sheepishly. you sigh, knowing how stubborn joe can be. “five minutes. that’s it.” you tell her. she nods and walks back over to joe, and he looks back at you with a look in his eyes that you can’t quite pinpoint. “i’ll be back guys. y/n, please try not to murder him.” eve calls out to the both of you.

“so what do you want to talk about?” you ask, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “i just wanted to tell you that i’m so sorry for what i did to you. i was an asshole and you didn’t deserve it. i just want you to know i never fell out of love with you. hell, i still love you, but-” “joe, stop.” you cut him off. “you don’t get to say you’re sorry because you sure as hell weren’t sorry when you broke my heart a year ago.” you say, coldly. “i know that i can never change what i did to you, but i just want you to know that i really am sorry, even if you don’t believe me.” you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “i thought you loved me joe.” you say, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “i did love you! i still do!” he starts to raise his voice. “bullshit joe! you’re so fucking selfish! i don’t know why you give a shit all of a sudden! is it because you feel guilty? or do you just feel sorry for me?” you yell. “y/n-” “i don’t care anymore joe! you know why? it’s because you are not the person i fell in love with years ago!” you seethe. “i know, y/n. i know. it wasn’t fair for me to do that to you.” he tells you, looking at his shoes. “you can’t even look at me joe! i mean, did you ever realize you were hurting me? or did you just not care?” “y/n please-” “shut up joe! i hate you! it was so shitty of you to make me feel like that! god, what i would do to make you feel the way i did when you ripped out my heart and stomped on it!” your tears are falling down your face, stalling at your chin, and you don’t even bother to wipe them off. “y/n, just let me explain.” he begs you. “no! you had your chance to explain while you were off fucking random girls last year! you know what joe? fuck you!” a silence takes over the room, and you decide that you’re done with this conversation and joe. “get out.” you say calmly, looking him straight in the eye. “what?” joe’s voice wavers slightly. “you heard me. i said five minutes and it’s been five minutes. it’s time for you to leave.” “okay i understand.” he begins to walk towards you door, but stops to tell you, “just so you know, it has always been you, y/n. i never stopped loving you.”, his voice breaking on the last word, but you just give him a slight nod before he walks out of your dorm.

you walk over to your bed and sit down, staring at the ground. a wave of emotion washes over you, and you start to sob uncontrollably, your chest heaving, feeling as if you can’t breathe. you don’t notice eve being in the room until you feel you bed dip next to you, and her arms wrap around you. you lean into her as she comforts you and tries to calm you down. you don’t know when you could ever forgive joe for what he did to you, but it certainly isn’t now.

a/n: i kinda hate this but oh well

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow oneshot #joe burrow angst #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #lsu #lsu!joe burrow #lsu football #lsu tigers #Spotify

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graysnetwork · 11 months

Text

HAVING KEEGAN AS UR BROTHERS BSF

IM HAVING THOUGHTS RN

CHAPTER |

BROTHERS BEST FRIEND — Keegan Russ X fem!Reader

Notes— he will now become a character in my heart and in my blog bc I love him. And so will the friend in this story.

Info: it’s cannon for me to believe his character drives a Mercedes. he has black hair. He’s got red cheeks (I’ll probably post a pic of what I’m thinking of) idk if it’s like Rosacea but I think it’s smtg he would probably have. Keegan’s three years older than you, (your a sophomore and he’s a senior). Idk if you can tell… but this is totally ooc and set in like this time.

Warnings: none!

Summary: you’ve been crushing on Keegan for years now and he has been too.

Your brother was a pain in the ass, so annoying, But. His best friend on the other hand, was so kind to you, and handsome.

Keegan had been your brothers “best friend” for about 5 years now. They’d been friends since middle school and now they were going to graduate, Keegan was apart of the family at this point, he’d stayed at your house for so long that he would come in unannounced and go into anyone’s bedroom, parents included.

Sometimes he’d go into everyone’s rooms just to say “goodnight”, which was really funny, especially when you were a kid.

For instance, he was staying the night at your family’s home, and you were going to say goodnight to your parents but you got anxious because it was late at night, so he grabbed your hand and said goodnight with you so you wouldn’t be alone.

Keegan seemed to like caring for you, he always took the blame when you did something stupid, he’d say “oh I told her to do it, I’m sorry”

He just did it and never asked for a thank you back from you, he enjoyed taking care of you. And as you got older, all the things he did for you made you feel all warm and giddy inside. He was so sweet, how could you not have a crush on him. And when he came over and got in the pool, it made you feel all dizzy seeing him without a shirt.

And he wasn’t big on dating, he dated some girls throughout his whole five years of high school, but he never stayed for long, mostly because he couldn’t make enough time for them due to all the football practice he had.

But Keegan loved you,he always made time for you. he always liked you but once you got older, got in high school, hit puberty, he became more attracted to you, in ways he couldn’t tell your brother.

Anytime your brother asked him “do you like anyone?” Keegan just had to deny everything saying that he didn’t, and even when the blush on his cheeks was apparent he’d still say “nah, I’m waiting for the pretty girls in college” just so your brother could hop off his dick already.

But he couldn’t ask you to date him, or take you out randomly, that’d be weird, and your brother would most definitely get mad at him, and you. So safe to say that he wasn’t going to be taking you out. Plus he thought that you probably liked another guy in the school, not him— a muscular, black haired, tall, handsome man.

He was graduating soon, he was gonna go off to university and get some sort of degree, so what would be the point of dating him if he was going to leave.

—

Now it was a normal Friday night, the night that your family would spend time together, something that you all enjoyed, especially after a busy week of studying, work, ECT. It was something you looked forward to, and sometimes Keegan joined in if he wasn’t with his family.

Today in particular, he wasn’t with them, he was with you. The two of you were heading to the store to go buy some snacks that you and your family wanted. He was talking about what his family was doing that he decided to not join in on today.

“Yeah, they were saying something about this new small…. Art museu-” he tried to remember “museum, yeah I’ve heard of it, seems really nice, I- I mean I dunno if you’d enjoy it, but it really does seem cool” you finished his sentence and began explaining how cute it looked. Keegan smiled to himself listening to you talk about some art that they had.

He didn’t want to go to this museum with his family, but if you wanted to or offered to take him he’d gladly say yes, just to see that cute smile on your face.

Once he got into the parking lot of the store he turned off the car after parking, and while you were still talking about the art to get your mind off him being so close to you, he just gazed at you, his head tilting a little when you turned to face him.

He thought you looked so cute when you talked about things you loved or were passionate about.

“Cmon kid” Keegan told you as he grabbed the keys and hopped out the car. Kid was always his nickname for you, but it always made you feel so much younger than him and like he only saw you as a sister or family.

The two of you walked around the store, for a while before heading to the candy aisle, you two looked at the snack section and ended with grabbing some chips and cookies. Then you went to the candy aisle as Keegan held all the snack for you, that’s when you spotted your friend.

“Y/n!” She said running down the aisle to hug you. “Hii” she said as she hugged you tightly, “hey, what are you doing here” you asked and she pulled away as her brother came up behind her, “we were just getting snack-” Kim tried to say but her brother cut her off “cause she’s annoying and won’t shut up about these chocolates” he said, you giggled

And Keegan suddenly got all jealous, and a little self conscious, like he was back in middle school and he saw the girl he had a crush on talking to another guy.

“Seems like her” you said and your friend nudged you before taking in the sight of Keegan’s tall figure behind you. “And what are you two doin here?” She asked with a smirk appearing on her face.

She knew how much you liked Keegan, she was who listened to you talk about a small interaction you had with Keegan, and she fed into your delusions.

“W-we’re just getting snacks for movie night” you said, you stared at her and her brother with an annoyed face, her brother also knew you liked Keegan, which helped out because he had some classes with him.

“Yeah” Keegan said and stared dead at Kim’s brother, he looked like he wanted to kill him, and if looks could kills, he would’ve been dead the minute you started giggling.

“Well that’s cutee” kim said smirking even more now, and it was just a matter of time before you could smack her when you saw her in private. “Anyways, let’s go!” Kim told her brother and they turned around and walked out the aisle.

“She’s something, isn’t she” Keegan said turning back to you as you walked to the candy’s. “Yeah, definitely” you smiled back at him and looked at the shelf of chocolates. “Uh.. that was her, brother?” He asked, he wanted to know if you liked him in any way.

“Yeah, he’s like my brother at this point” you said chuckling. “Cool” he said and looked around the aisle.

—

The two of you got in the car, placing the bags down at your feet. He started the car and began pulling out of the parking spot. He was quiet now, Keegan’s not loud or anything, he never has been. but he’s never this silent, you didn’t want to question it as he turned up the volume to the radio.

“So” he cleared his throat “Kim’s.. brother, no feelings for him right?” He asked slowly as he swallowed his saliva, “yeah” you told him— the question didn’t seem odd to you, Keegan’s always been protective of you since he was older than you. But he seemed annoyed.

“Hm, why?” You smiled as you turned your head to look at him “you jealous?” You chuckled a bit before he looked at you with an annoyed expression. “was kidding, sorry” you explained quietly and turned back to the road ahead as you approached a stoplight.

“y’shouldnt be liking or dating anyone in the first place” he said, “yeah my brother would probably kill me” you giggled.

“I know someone you could date n’you wouldn’t be killed for it” he said.

#imagines #x reader stories #fluff #call of duty #keegan p russ #call of duty keegan #cod keegan #keegan russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #fanfic #y’all better request for BBF! keegan or else I’ll be sad

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lavendersuh · 1 year

Text

oh my, oh my god 단 너뿐이야

johnny x female reader | college!au, strangers to lovers | 3.9k words

warnings: suggestive content, mentions of alcohol and partying

after a much needed kpop hiatus, i am back and more delusional than ever :D i have so many ideas and wips rn... can't wait to share more with y'all! i would like to dedicate this fic to @sehunniepot bc nikki has been right there next to me in my delusion and been a huge motivation to get back into writing eeee i hope u enjoy!! *title is from "omg" by newjeans!!*

༻ ✧✧✧ ༺

oh my, oh my god, 예상했어 나

i was really hoping that he will come through...

༻ ✧✧✧ ༺

“Just go for it! If it goes horribly, you can blame being drunk and pretend it never happened at all!”

You looked back at your friend, grinning lazily at you from the couch she was perched on. She was a lot more extraverted than you in general, but with alcohol in her system? She was capable of anything.

You? You, you maybe not so much.

With another glance over at the man messing around with the sound system spreading music throughout the house, you saw he was deep in concentration. One hand typed on the laptop keyboard while the other held a red solo cup you assumed held some type of alcohol. His hair was falling in his face as he gazed at the screen, and he wore a shirt tucked into jeans. He looked good in those jeans.

You flushed at the thought of going over to talk to him, but your friends seemed determined to encourage you to go for it. They had been on a long spiel about how you weren’t ever going to date anyone if you only waited around for others to make a move. You could make the first move! You just feared making a fool of yourself in front of someone you would see two days a week for the rest of the semester.

Johnny Suh sat three rows behind you in your Monday-Wednesday English lecture, and he probably had to be the most attractive man you have ever seen in your life.

Okay, that was most likely an exaggeration, but he was a beautiful man. Tall, dark hair, and a good sense of style was the perfect combination for attraction to bloom. You felt giddy just thinking about him.

Too bad you didn’t really know anything about him other than the fact that he sat in the same seat every single week.

He looked different in this atmosphere though. He seemed more relaxed, and since he was messing around with the music system like he knew exactly what he was doing even with a little alcohol in his system, you assumed he belonged to this frat and lived in this house. You had once seen him walk into class with a fraternity symbol across his sweatshirt, but you were never good at remembering what all those Greek symbols meant.

While he looked more relaxed, seeing Johnny in a non-academic setting was also extremely intimidating. You were only a few drinks in, mildly tipsy at best, but the alcohol made you warm, and even the idea of not being sober gave you a little confidence. Maybe you could do this.

You could walk over there and make conversation. Get to know him. You could maybe even ask him out for coffee or lunch before class one day. Like your friend said, if things go south, you could always blame the alcoholic atmosphere of a Saturday night frat party.

“Okay,” you said, as you watched your friends raise their eyebrows at you, “I’ll go do it. Maybe get me a drink just in case it doesn’t go well.”

Your two friends cheered as you turned around to walk through the small crowd to Johnny. Moving around made you realize you were a little more drunk than you had thought while sitting down, but you were determined at this point. The alcohol would hopefully make you a little loose, break you out of your shell a little bit.

Johnny took a drink from his red cup as he surveyed the upcoming queued songs for the next hour. Once you were only a few steps away from him, you slowed down as your nerves kicked into high gear. There was a pang of anxiety that shot through your chest at the thought of actually talking to him. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

You were three seconds from turning around when his gaze found yours. You must have looked like a deer in headlights in the dimly illuminated air of the frat house, but getting noticed gave you a little spike of determination.

“Hey,” you spoke up as you stepped a little closer, “Johnny, right?” Not the best start, but at least it was something.

“Yeah…” he replied, giving you a slightly suspicious look. It made you realize he probably had no clue who the fuck you were. There were over a hundred people in your class, and it was actually extremely likely that he had never noticed you before.

The alcohol running warm in your veins kept you going though. “I’m Y/N. We’re in the same English class.”

You offered up a small smile, hoping you don’t seem weird as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear nervously. His eyes changed a little and you could tell that he at least recognized the academic correlation.

“Oh, hi.”

It was clear that he was still sort of lost on why you were talking to him. You knew you needed to play it off to lessen the damage and actually attempt to make a conversation out of this interaction. He was just so nice-looking, it made you sort of just want to stare at him in admiration for the rest of the night.

“Um, sorry I came up to you, I don’t normally do this,” you explained to him, “I’ve just seen you around, and I’m a few drinks in, and my friends told me to stop waiting for shitty dudes to approach me— I should go up to them; it's a whole thing.”

You knew you had a tendency to ramble sometimes, but at least you were talking— at least something was happening. You reminded yourself that talking about something, anything, was better than just being silent.

The only issue was, rambling was not the best way to communicate.

“Are you calling me a shitty dude?” he asked, giving you a raised brow.

The panic settled in, and you knew your eyes grew wide from how he was looking at you right now. It only lasted a moment before his face broke out into a lighthearted grin.

“I’m just joking around,” he stated, tucking his hands into his jeans, “So what’s this ‘whole thing’ about the shitty guys anyways?”

You were flooded with relief that he was only kidding around, and also that you might actually have a chance at a conversation, no matter how strange it was.

“Oh, well I haven’t really dated anyone for that long, and it's because I always date the dudes that approach me, and I’m never attracted to any of them. So it never goes anywhere,” you explained in what was most likely too much detail. “My one friend saw this TikTok that was like, you need to go up to people you like if you want to be with someone you’re actually attracted to.”

“So… you’re attracted to me?” Johnny replied.

You felt yourself tense at his words, finding yourself flustered under his gaze that had suddenly become a bit more intense than you had remembered it being a few minutes ago. You felt like you could melt under his stare, and you knew your mouth was probably open in bewilderment. You coughed lightly to clear your throat, moving your gaze to somewhere on the wall behind him to avoid his eyes for a moment.

“Uhh, yeah, I, uh, have a classroom crush on you,” you stated, trying to keep your voice steady. Maybe if you faked your way to confidence, he wouldn’t notice the way you felt like your heart might explode from your chest with how wildly it was beating.

Johnny leaned back against the wall you both had been standing near, letting a lazy smile come over his face. “And what’s a classroom crush?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was enjoying himself but humoring him anyways, “You know. When you think someone’s cute in your class but you don’t really know anything about them because all you see is them in class.”

At the mention of class, you recalled the fact that after this encounter you would have to walk into class on Monday and see this man in front of you. The idea filled you with embarrassment. You had been slowly digging your own grave, and you were suddenly letting your eyes wander, thinking of a way to just get out of this without embarrassing yourself more.

Johnny made a noise of understanding, drawing your attention back to him, “Oh yeah, I get that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he grinned at you, “I actually have a classroom crush, too.”

“Oh?”

Oh.

“Mhm,” he nodded as he rubbed his hand over his chin for a brief moment, “There’s this girl in my Monday-Wednesday lecture. She sits a few rows in front of me, but she occasionally turns around a little bit and sometimes I catch her staring at me. She’s so cute when she looks away all embarrassed about it.”

Your eyes went wide as you realized, fuck, oh fuck, that’s you, fuck, he noticed you.

“Oh yeah?” you gulped out. You looked down at his drink, “Can I have some of that?”

He offered the cup to you, letting out a mention that it was strong, but you took a big drink anyways, relishing in the way the alcohol burned going down. You looked back up to see him with a small, little smile on his face directed at you, as he watched you with an amused gleam in his eye.

You swore his smile could melt your insides entirely. “So,” he began, “What happens with a classroom crush, typically?”

The liquid courage from the alcohol had your mouth talking before your brain could really keep up with it.

“I usually just daydream and make up scenarios in my head during class to waste time, and then it kinda fizzles out after a while, usually when the semester is over.”

How were you acting so calm when you felt like you should be freaking the fuck out on the inside. Have you really been saying all of these things out loud? Your words came to an abrupt halt as you stared up at the man just a bit away from you.

“Have you ever thought about asking the person out?” Johnny asked, his words coming out with a little teasing in his tone.

You smiled weakly at him, “I guess that’s what I was trying to do with this whole conversation, but I’m just very bad at this.”

Johnny let out a little laugh. “I think you’re doing great. We are talking after all, aren’t we?”

You were grateful that he seemed to not be rejecting you, but you were curious as to what was going on in his head.

“I’m being so dumb right now,” you laughed it off, “I can at least partially blame the alcohol, but I’m just new to this. Hopefully it makes your night a little more interesting.”

“Yeah, you are interesting.” he paused for a seemingly dramatic effect, leaning in closer to you, “I like it.”

He smiled as he glanced from you to the laptop next to him. You had forgotten about the laptop, and the music, and even the party and people around you. You felt lost in the conversation that was happening between the two of you.

He crouched on the floor to look better at the laptop that was set up on the low table, and he motioned for you to join him. All that was on the screen was the music queue, but you leaned in a little too close to get a better look at the words on the screen.

Getting so close to the screen also meant being nearer to Johnny, and when you looked over at him, your faces were closer than you had thought they were. Being so close, you could smell his cologne. The new scent registered in your brain, and it made you realize just how much you had learned about Johnny in the past few minutes.

You had clearly been the one talking more, but you were kind of proud of yourself for even getting this far. You had never really talked to one of your classroom crushes outside of class, not even for group presentations, and being in Johnny’s presence just made you like him even more.

“Do you wanna keep making my night interesting?” he asked, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Oh!” His words bring out your flustered state again, and you jump back and stand up from where you both had been crouching on the floor. “Um, I’m not really comfy doing anything like that tonight--”

“No!” he interrupted, standing up as well while rubbing the back of his neck, “I didn’t mean it like that…. Just, do you want to keep hanging out? I think the guys set up beer pong outside so you could come watch with me?”

As you saw Johnny sputtering a bit from the mix-up, you felt yourself calm down knowing that he was also capable of being thrown off his rhythm. His words ignited butterflies in your stomach.

“Yeah, sure!”

“Do you, uh, want to go talk to your friends real quick?” he gestured over to your friends across the room, and you looked over to see them trying hard to seem like they weren’t watching the entire encounter, even though they clearly were. You flushed with wide eyes, embarrassed that they were being so obvious.

“Um, yeah,” you tried to laugh it off, “I’ll meet you in the kitchen?”

He gave you a reassuring smile, “Sure.”

You walked over to your friends, who were all grinning at you like idiots and letting out a few victory cheers. Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel happy seeing how goofy and supportive your friends were being. They attacked you with an array of questions.

“Tell us everything!”

“Does he seem interested?”

“Did you ask him out?”

“I keep making a fool of myself,” you replied, “But he doesn’t seem put off by it— I think he might think I’m cute.”

“Yes you are!” one of your friends said, “And he’s so hot!!”

She pinched your cheeks and you ducked away, rolling your eyes at their drunken antics. You bid them goodbye and slipped through the party to find the kitchen.

Johnny stood over by the fridge, sipping from a beer can and smiled when his eyes met yours. He offered you a drink, and you accepted a seltzer from the fridge. He gestured toward the back deck, leading you through the back door with his hand on the small of your back. The light touch didn’t go unnoticed, leaving your cheeks warm despite the cold air.

The two of you stood near the railing to watch a few guys play pong. You sipped your seltzer, aware of Johnny’s arm brushing yours as he greeted others hanging around the game.

Johnny was completely at ease here, leaning against the railing with his arm almost around you, his hand brushing your waist. It almost felt like this was a normal occurrence for the both of you. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he did this often. You watched the game and the people around you silently for a while, basking in the world of Johnny and his friends that you somehow got wrapped up in, even just for a moment.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Johnny slid his arm up to the small of your back. His hand was big and warm even through the fabric of your shirt.

He ducked down closer to your ear, “Hey, you okay?”

His eyes peered into yours, a look of genuine interest crossing his face. You smiled back at him.

“Yeah, I just haven’t been to a party in a while,” you replied, hoping your nerves can be explained away. He didn’t need to know how affected you were by his casual touches.

“Nothing a drink can’t fix,” he said, clinking your cans together with a silly grin on his face. It seemed he knew you were nervous, as he experimented with his touch and kept you close without being overbearing. His casual nature made you even more relaxed.

You went back to watching the increasingly intense game of beer pong, but it was hard to concentrate when you could feel Johnny’s fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. You snuck a look up at him, and while he wasn’t looking down at you, his mouth perked into a smile like he knew you were watching.

The game started to come to a close, with the crowd of people getting bigger and more rowdy. You turned your attention back to the game, watching as one of the guys sank the last cup, leading to an up-roar of cheers on the deck. You couldn’t help but cheer alongside everyone, raising your drink before taking a big sip.

Unfortunately for you, one of the more inebriated partygoers fell backwards into you, causing your drink to spill all over the front of your shirt. The guy didn’t even seem to notice you break his fall, standing up and running back into the crowd, leaving you with a big stain across your chest.

Johnny grasped your forearms, making sure you were upright and okay, his eyes scanning over you to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Hey, come on, I’ll get you cleaned up,” he says, tucking his arm around your shoulders to guide you through the crowd.

The party is still going strong inside the house, with loud music and dim lights illuminating the swirl of bodies you walk through. Johnny leads you upstairs, which is a lot quieter, despite a few people roaming in and out of rooms. He takes you into the bathroom, gesturing for you to hop on the counter.

He takes a towel from the linen closet, gently dabbing at the stain on your collarbone. His other hand rests on the counter next to you, before resting lightly on your hip to hold you steady.

You don’t think you’ve let out a single breath since he began, watching his face knot into a look of concentration. You wonder if he can hear your heart about to beat out of your chest. Other than the faint pounding of distant music and the buzz of the overhead light, there isn’t a sound to be heard.

His face is so close, you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to. A few strands of hair fall across his eyes and you find yourself wondering what those locks would feel like under your fingers. His hair looks soft.

You get caught up noticing how much he towers over you, distracted by your own thoughts as you gaze at him. You’re brought out of your reverie when his eyes catch yours, a smile appearing across his features. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, causing goosebumps to flutter up your spine.

Johnny steps back and clears his throat, as if remembering himself. He looks down at his handiwork, his mouth quirking at the still-visible stain.

“I don’t think that stain’s coming out,” he says, “Hang on.”

He exits the bathroom for a moment, leaving you alone. You take a deep breath. This whole situation makes you feel like all the oxygen has been sucked out of your lungs.

He reappears less than two minutes later, holding a slate gray shirt that clearly belongs to himself.

“You can put this on if you want,” he says, holding the material out to you.

You don’t notice the bashful look on his face at the gesture, as you immediately start taking off your shirt to put on the replacement. You do however catch a glimpse at the way Johnny respectfully tries to look anywhere but your torso until you have his shirt on.

You smile sheepishly once the fabric touches your skin. The shirt is way too big, with the sleeves coming down almost to your elbows. It smells faintly of him, and you look up to see him staring at you intently. You watched as his eyes traveled down the length of you before coming back up and settling on your lips.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, breaking through the silence that had settled over the both of you.

Johnny clears his throat, “Oh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, “You just, uh, look really good in my shirt…”

You can tell that your face is warm, but his confession emboldens you to take a small step toward him, gazing up at his face through your eyelashes. He meets you in the middle, placing his hands gently on your waist as he leans down and brings his lips to meet yours.

You gasp into the kiss, letting every emotion wash over you. His hands are warm as they wrap around you, bringing you close. You rest your hands on his shoulders, letting them wander over the expanse of his chest.

He deepens the kiss, and your hands drift up into his hair. You almost moan at how soft it is. Johnny must know you’re holding back, moving his mouth to kiss down your neck as his hands wander under your shirt to caress your torso. You moan when he starts sucking on the tender skin beneath your ear.

He groans when he hears you let out the sound, lifting you up and setting you on the counter in a rush. He steps between your legs, as your lips meet again, his mouth swallowing your sounds as you try to get closer by wrapping your legs around him.

His hands are close to fondling with your bra under his shirt you’re wearing, and you can feel the bulge in his pants as you let yourself grind against him.

“Johnny…” you mumble between kisses, clinging to him like he’s your lifeline. The mumble of his name spurs him on.

You break apart eventually, breathing heavily as you gaze at his swollen lips. You can’t even imagine what you must look like at the moment.

Johnny slowly removes himself from you and steps back to adjust his jeans with a sheepish look on his face. When he looks back up at you, it’s with a smile.

“We should probably stop here,” he suggests, remembering how you mentioned not wanting to go too far tonight. “At least for now.”

You nod, your heart beating fast at the implication of seeing more of him in the future. He combs his fingers through your hair a bit to help make you more presentable, before reaching for your hand.

The two of you head back downstairs, into the chaos of the party, and you find your friends dancing in the living room. They wave and let out some wolf whistles when they see you walking down the stairs hand-in-hand.

You look back at Johnny, and he grins at your friends’ silly behavior, watching as they call you over.

“It’s cool, I’m gonna go check the music queue,” he says, squeezing your hand one last time before letting go, “I’ll see you in class, yeah?”

You return his smile, “Yeah.”

“And maybe at the next party, too?” he asks with a hopeful tone.

You nod before planting a quick kiss on his lips, leaving him speechless as you turn and slip into the crowd.

When you reach your friends, you glance back to find Johnny back to the corner where you had first approached him. It almost felt like the last hour was a hazy dream, but when he looked up, his eyes found yours immediately, lingering with a small smile on his face.

Not a dream, at all.

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