#i was working on it last night & i thought my head was going to explode w/ all the detail i want to incorporate lol
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my outline is already four pages long & i’m just halfway through :’)
#₊˚ ಇ reverie rambles#৻ꪆ 𓂃 ‘til death we do art#the amnt of research going into this !!#i was working on it last night & i thought my head was going to explode w/ all the detail i want to incorporate lol
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Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.
(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)
"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"
"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.
"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.
"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.
". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.
Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.
"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."
"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"
"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"
Kon . . . blinks.
"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"
"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."
"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"
"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?
"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."
"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.
Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.
Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .
Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?
Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.
Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.
It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.
But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?
Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.
Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.
Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.
. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.
Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.
Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.
Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.
"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.
"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"
She stares at him.
"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."
"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."
"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"
"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"
"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.
"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.
Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.
"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.
"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.
"Definitely not," Kara says.
"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.
"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."
"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.
"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"
"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.
Eh, whatever.
He calls Tim.
"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.
"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."
". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"
"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."
"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."
"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?
Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.
. . . then again, Bernard did ask.
"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"
"Yes," Bernard says.
"Bernard," Tim says.
"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.
"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.
"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"
"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"
"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"
"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."
". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."
"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."
"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.
"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."
"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.
"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."
"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."
"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."
". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."
"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."
"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"
"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."
"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.
"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.
"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."
"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.
"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.
"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.
"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."
"Kon!" Kara chokes.
"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"
"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.
"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."
"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"
"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."
"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.
"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."
"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.
"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.
"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."
"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.
"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.
Spoilsport.
"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.
"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."
"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.
"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."
"How is that obvious?" Tim says.
"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.
"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"
"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.
"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.
"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."
"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."
"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.
"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."
"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.
". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.
"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."
"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.
"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.
"You kinda implied–"
"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.
So it definitely happened to her, yeah.
"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"
"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.
"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.
"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.
"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."
"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."
"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"
"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.
"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"
"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.
"I'm just asking," he huffs.
"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."
"Right?" Kon says.
"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."
"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"
". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."
"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.
"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.
"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"
"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.
"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."
"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.
"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."
". . . um," Bernard says.
"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."
"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."
"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.
"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"
"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"
"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.
"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."
"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"
"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.
"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"
"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."
"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"
"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."
"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.
"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.
"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.
"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.
"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."
"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"
". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.
Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".
"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."
He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.
"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."
"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.
Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?
Definitely best.
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They compliment you feat. mk1 bi-han, kitana, kung lao
author note: felt like I was going to explode if I didn't post them today, I hope it's not complete trash LOL.
Bi-Han:
-It was a quiet morning, for once you were the first to wake up, so you started cooking for the both of you.
-Then you felt the arms of your lover wrapping around your waist, always so chilly against your body.
-You feel his right cheekbone brush against yours, like a kitty searching for affection, then his chin rests on your shoulder, you can feel his black eyes on you.
"Dawn creates light and shades on your face, making your feature stand out even more, I didn't think it was possible to make you look even more beautiful."
-You choke on your own spit, stunned by the honeyed words dripping from your partner lips.
-What was happening? Did Bi-Han hit his head during sparring? In any case, there's no way you'll stop him.
-Kettle whistle, but you don't move, still looking at Bi-Han with wide eyes.
-He sighs, kisses your cheek, and takes the kettle, pouring the boiling water into his cup, where you previously put the tea bag.
-"Moron, if this is your reaction, I'll have to filter my thoughts again."
-You shook your head, hell, you don't think you'll ever be able to go back now, his sweet words a drug that got you immediately addicted.
Sadly, you aren't used to compliments anymore; you can just stutter out a no, while you feel heath on your cheeks.
-Bi-Han smirks at you, a playful gesture you rarely see (and you are still thanking the gods that blessed you this morning) his right hand reaching for the apple of your cheek, pulling it in between his index and middle fingers before snapping it back in place.
-"Sit down, I'll make you coffee maybe it will wake you up."
-You aren't sure if you want to wake up.
Kitana:
-You are waiting for her to return from work, your stomach churning always worried something bad may have happened.
-You are reading a novel when you feel the door of the living room opening. You lift your head up, eager to see your lover come in.
-And she does, a ray of sunshine deep into the night.
-Kitana walks to you, a tired smile on her face, 'till she reaches you behind the armchair you are sitting on.
-"Good night beautiful, first time here?" You say, chuckling at your own silliness.
-Kitana chuckles along, the kind that shows the wonderful smile that always makes you understand how lucky you are.
-"Since you leave me breathless every time I look at you-" Her face lean closer to yours "maybe it is" her plush lips kiss your forehead before she leaves to change in more comfortable clothing.
-You curl on yourself, face hidden inside your book, and you are pretty sure your head is fuming for how fast the gears in your brain are working.
-"Don't curl up, dear! You know it's bad for your back" Kitana shouts from your shared bedroom "I don't want my princess to get back pain" she whispers the last part.
-Maybe one day she will get bold enough to freely speak her mind, for now you'll have to cheerish this rare moment of softness.
Kung Lao:
-You tried a new recipe today, made with the fresh vegetables Kung Lao and Raiden picked up at dawn.
-Saying you were nervous is a euphemism. You didn't want to fail, but even more to thrash the food your friend and boyfriend grew and picked up after so much effort.
-You put the food on the table, useless to say to start the meal, Kung Lao cheeks were already full, and Raiden followed soon.
-The judgment arrived soon, the burp coming from your partner mouth a telltale sign and a bad habit you still weren't able to correct.
-"My love, the food was amazing, delicious!" Kung Lao stands up, arms open ready to embrace your body "Not that I have any doubts, your cooking skill just another plus of my wonderful-" He kisses your nose "amazing-" his lips touch your left cheek "beautiful dove" his lips finally rest on yours.
-You reciprocate the kiss, but your mind is elsewhere, so used to Kung Lao singing his own praises without sparing a nice word to anybody else, you didn't expect so many compliments.
-You break the kiss when you hear Raiden coughing in the background, heath flooding your face while your boyfriend was totally unaffected, still looking at you with that softness he always reserves for you.
-Kung Lao soon returns at the table to finish the meal together with Raiden, and then they both go back to train.
-But not before smooching your cheek, lips staining your skin with, what you guessed was the juice of the peach Kung Lao eat before going back to work.
-You clean yourself with the back of your hand before going back to work, the comoliments of your boyfriend still reverberating into your brain, a nice intrusive thought that won't leave you for the rest of the day.
#mk1 x reader#mk1 x you#mk1 imagine#kitana x reader#bi han x reader#sub zero x reader#kung lao x reader#bi-han x you#kung lao x you#i choose characters that I don't think give out compliment easily#not to be not safe for work but probably bi-han is like that only when his balls are empty LMAO#Kitana just needs to develop how to express her feelings without thinking she is weak#Kung Lao just needs to stop thinking about himself all day (hard I know)#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mortal kombat headcanons#mk1 headcanons
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So I’ve been making this
So basically last night, I was listening to some music, specifically Not Gonna Die by Skillet, more specifically a version on YouTube with the intro (because I’m not the biggest fan of Good to be Alive where the intro actually is). Anyways, when it’s night, my imagination tends to be more active and I tend to have more energy. While listening to the song, I eventually got this mental image in my mind of this scene with Dark Choco, and the more it crystallized the more I wanted to draw it. I was going to go to sleep and maybe do it in the morning, but I realized that I probably would forget the vibe and not have as much energy, so instead I decided to power through and draw the idea
It was a bit difficult since I had limited references for the pose I wanted, and I suppose I can admit the sword looks a bit off anatomically, but it looks good enough I think, and lets me keep the eyes revealed
I did eventually have to stop drawing, because my iPad had been worked all the way down to 4% (and it was at 30% when I started, the poor thing), not to mention it was around 11:30 already which is pretty late for me, and my earbuds had been running nonstop for over 2 hours (yes I was listening to the same song, it’s how I keep the vibe). I was at least able to get the pose, base colors and lineart done, and I’m still pretty proud of where I left things last night
Today was mostly just doing the background and lighting, which admittedly I may have fumbled. I’m not very good at backgrounds and I didn’t know how to draw lightning. I tried my best, but honestly I don’t think I got the image in my head. Didn’t help that my brain was playing the wrong Skillet song this morning
Oh yeah and by the way, the background is supposed to be from this. That’s what I used as reference
The lightning both feels like too much and too little. Like, it’s crowding the picture, and I can’t have more because it’d be way too crowded with it, but also at the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough, like there isn’t as much power as I wanted
Actually wait, maybe I can add some small particle effects to like, enhance the lightning feel. That was in the original sketch but I omitted it in the final. If you see one with that, you know I did that
Edit: I did indeed do that
To be fair though, I don’t think I have the art skill to properly convey the image in my head. Basically the scene is that Dark Choco is using absolutely every amount of his power for this final swing down, so much that it’s too powerful and the Strawberry Jam Sword completely shatters. But also it’s too powerful that Dark Choco’s body simply can’t handle it, and he basically ends up exploding. The scene depicted would be the wind up to that final swing that destroys the both of them
This isn’t necessarily the first time I’ve come up with this scenario, and the setup would basically be that he turned on the Cookies of Darkness slightly earlier, because he didn’t want to destroy his homeland again, and he tried to get rid of them while in the kingdom but not yet at the Citadel, but he ended up failing, so with nothing to lose, he chases after them and decides to put everything into destroying them, even if it likely ends in his death. After this he probably killed Pomegranate and crippled Licorice in some way (I don’t think he’d attack Poison Mushroom), so his final act did have some effect, but he’s still dead by the end of it. And he and his father never got the chance to properly reconcile because Dark Choco thought that could never be a possibility anymore and he had resigned himself to his fate
But yeah, I just don’t know how to convey that sheer overwhelming power and emotion that this scenario suggests. I tried my best though
I also want to submit this to the Dark Cacao Forever contest, but I’m not sure if it’s good enough for it. What do you think?
#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#dark choco cookie#my art#I really did try hard and this and it does look better than most of my others#but I don’t know if it’s really that good or anything
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The road trip
College was finally over! Randy and Danny, who had spent the last four years living in the same dorm room, were celebrating their graduation with a dream they had nurtured for the past few months: A road trip across the country! They would travel together, spend the time driving and the nights in motels, and finally visit some famous places along the way.
Both of them had the money for it and the time to spare. Danny, of course, who was the more reliable of the duo, was the one who had planned out the whole trip in advance. He had the maps, the motels and the sights all written down, and now they were driving through the countryside to the west.
All went according to plan and the two friends were already a few days on the road, when the accident happened. Randy, who didn't get much sleep the night before was driving while Danny was taking a nap in the seat next to him. The monotonous sight of the country road was not helping much, and Danny found it more and more difficult to stay awake. In hindsight, the sensible choice of action would have been to park the car and take a nap as well. But Randy wasn't the type for sensible choices. He just kept driving and driving until...
*BANG!*
Randy's car hit something, a rock, a stone, a tree. Danny woke up with a jolt and looked around. Everything had happened so fast. The front window was broken, and the airbag had exploded.
Danny couldn't see because of the airbag and tried to open the door. Luckily, it wasn't jammed, and he could work himself out of the car just in time to see Randy crawl out on the driver's side as well.
"Randy! Are you hurt? What happened?"
"No, I'm okay, but the car... "
Danny, who had managed to stand up by now, took a look at the front of the car. They had collided with a large rock next to the road. Even without any mechanical expertise, Danny recognized that the car was wrecked, damaged beyond repair. Next to one of the car's wheels, he spotted something on the ground. When he picked it up, however, it was just some old coin that he quickly pocketed.
"Fuck." was all Danny remarked. It was unlike him to swear, but the situation called for it.
Randy was still looking at the wreck of his car in disbelief. A thousand thoughts spun around in his head, ranging from "my dad's gonna kill me" to "I should really have been more careful". He finally decided on:
"How are we going to get back to civilization?"
"I'm not sure, but we'll figure something out. We should really get the rest of our luggage and call for help."
The two former students did as suggested and collected their luggage from the car. Luckily, everything that had been in the trunk was more or less intact. Calling for help, however, was a bigger problem than anticipated.
"No reception." Randy stated and Danny nodded, adding only another "Fuck.".
"Perhaps, there's some sort of service station nearby. We should probably walk in the direction we were driving." Danny said after a short consideration.
Neither of them knew how far it was going to be - but surely, at some point, they would be able to use their phones.
After walking for about twenty minutes in the blazing heat, Danny suddenly stopped.
"What's the matter?", Randy asked.
"It's fucking hot, that's what it is", Danny answered. His voice sounded scruff, but that was probably just because of the lack of water. After a short bit of hesitation, he pulled his white t-shirt over his head and used it to wipe away his sweat before dropping it to the ground.
"Better." he mumbled, but it didn't take long for the sweat to return.
Randy, who had also stopped when Danny did, looked at him and his surprisingly well defined torso, glistening in the sun. He had known Danny for a long time, and had seen him shirtless more than once, but his friends exposed chest was way more impressive than he remembered.
"Aren't you hot?"
Randy was interrupted in his thoughts by the question.
"No, actually... I'm not sweating one bit." he answered truthfully. That earned him a strange look from Danny, but no further comment.
Danny was hot, really hot. His mind was clouded, and it was difficult for him to think straight. After another short while, he cursed again.
"Fuck this shit! We're not getting anywhere like that."
Absentmindedly, he scratched his chest, which showed a coating of fine dark hairs now. Randy was pretty sure they weren't there some moments ago. What was going on?! Randy really didn't want to stare, but there were some not-so-subtle changed in his friend. The chest, the hair, the sudden change in behavior... and was that a tattoo on his shoulder? Randy was very, very certain that Danny didn't have any tattoos and yet, here was one. It looked like a crest or something, perhaps a military motive? That was impossible, of course, Danny was a gentle pacifist.
It didn't look bad on him, though. Randy found his eyes glued to his friends body, taking everything in, the muscles, the tattoo, the hair, the... bulge.
"Are you enjoying the view?" the question was snarky, almost aggressive, and definitely not what Randy was used to.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" Randy began, but Danny had already closed the distance between them and closed his hand (Randy could swear it was bigger and rougher than before) around Randy's crotch. Only now that it had been touched, Randy realized that he had grown hard.
"Don't act innocent, you little fag", Danny growled. "You're enjoying the view."
"Yes." Randy breathed. The whole situation was weird, and definitely not good, but his friend's hand on his cock felt so incredibly good. Of course, Randy wasn't gay... was he?
When he looked up, he saw Danny grinning a superior grin, despite his harsh words. He had grown significantly, Randy noticed. Not taller, but broader, with big, strong muscles. More tattoos had appeared on his other arm as well, and his chin was covered in bristly stubble now.
Most importantly, though, Danny, too was obviously hard in his pants. The bulge was big, way bigger than what Randy would have expected, even though he had never seen Danny's member hard before. The sight was mouth-watering.
Danny laughed and pressed his groin into Randy's, letting him feel the hardness.
"Yeah, I know what you want."
He opened his pants with his free hand and dropped them, revealing a huge member.
"Do you like what you see?"
Randy couldn't do much else than nod. The sight was just mesmerizing. He was still vaguely aware that they were open in public, on a road, but he couldn't help but stare at his friend's huge cock.
"Come on, give it a kiss."
Randy did as he was told and started to kneel down in front of his friend, but he was interrupted again by Danny's big hand that stopped him.
"But first...", Danny's voice sounded lower, more manly now, as he reached into Randy's pants and underpants and closed his hand around Randy's very stiff dick before he continued:
"I'll take this."
With that, he suddenly *yanked* at Randy's cock and balls, who was expecting the pain of a lifetime. Surprisingly enough, it didn't feel too bad. There was an odd pulling sensation for a moment, but it passed quickly. Even as Danny had retracted his arm, Randy could still feel his firm hand gripping his cock and balls - and he could *see* them, too: Danny was still holding them in his hand, detached from Randy's body.
"Ah, a perfect toy. This should keep you busy while I make use of your mouth."
The realization of what had happened was overwhelming, but it didn't stop Randy from feeling horny. It didn't help that Danny was idly playing with his detached cock, making him moan.
"Didn't you hear me? On. Your. Knees."
Randy was surprised, and even scared a little. How could Danny speak with such authority, like he was a superior man? Like he was... Randy's master.
As he finally went down on his knees, he looked up and was confronted with a different kind of surprise: Danny had been wearing blue jeans before, but now he was greeted by old and worn, and, most importantly, smelly, camo pants, held by a leather belt with a big metal buckle. The pants were open and his giant dick, still hard, hung out between the legs, resting on the heavy balls.
"Suck it." Danny said.
Randy did as he was told, putting his lips around the giant cock and started to suck. It felt more than weird, sucking another man's cock while having his own member detached and being slowly rubbed by the manly hands of his frie...
No, Danny was clearly superior to him now, much too superior to be a peer of his. He was his master, his owner perhaps. He was the one who held his cock in his hand, quite literally. The thought was thrilling for Randy, and he moaned out of pure pleasure.
Danny seemed to enjoy the blowjob as well, and, surprisingly, his cock grew even larger. With a low growl, Danny came in Randy's mouth. It was an incredible amount of cum, filling his mouth and making him gag.
"Good." Danny smirked and zipped up his pants. "And now you're gonna replace the car you crashed."
With these words, Randy found himself beginning to change. He fell to the ground and watched as both his hands and feet became larger, black and rubbery. There was no doubt: They were turning into... tires!
His whole body exploded in size, shredding his clothing as if they were made of paper. His skin turned hard and metallic and took on a bright yellow color. His body hollowed out and glass formed on the front, the sides and the back, as Randy, the human quickly became Randy, the car. And not just any car. He was becoming a brand new, modern, yellow jeep. His intestines turned into one of the most powerful engines you could own, while his mind underwent another transformation.
Randy's thoughts became clearer, simpler, more mechanical, as his mind was being absorbed into the on-board computer, effectively becoming nothing more than a subservient AI. With all his sensors, Randy noticed of course, as the rugged redneck, Dan the man, entered his interior and took a deep breath of Randy's new car smell.
"Alright, let's get going." Danny mumbled to no one in particular and inserted the key, which had been Randy's cock before, into the keyhole that had been Randy's mouth.
Immediately, Randy roared to life, and at the touch of his owner accelerated down the long country road.
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chris driving for the first time but not because he wants to—it’s because you’re in danger
let’s say nick and matt are not in the hose for whatever reason. you find yourself attending a party you have no business going to in some shady part of la, even after chris told you not to go there
i told you so // chris sturniolo
summary: you ignore your boyfriends concerns and have a night of your own, causing him to have to take his brothers car and drive to get you without his license
I fucked up.
That argument that Chris and I had last week, it’s caught up to me now.
“It’s in a bad part of town!” he yelled, running his hands through his hair. “You don’t know LA well enough yet! You just got here!”
“I’m a grown adult!” I defended myself. “Why can’t you just let me go!”
“I’m not letting you go without me! I have to work. You don’t even know those people!”
“I’m trying to make friends, Chris!” I shouted, a pain in my throat giving me the signal that tears were coming next. Do not cry. “I just want to have friends out here.”
“Baby,” he said as he put his hands on my shoulders. “There will be plenty of opportunities to make friends. Just listen to me this once.”
I shake my head. “I need to do this. I need to go by myself and make friends. I need to go without you and be comfortable there by myself.”
Chris looked deep into my eyes, debating continuing this argument. He sighed, then said, “Fine. But if anything happens, you call me immediately and I’ll have someone get you. And then I’m gonna say I told you so.”
Now here I am at this party, taking far too many drinks from people who keep saying we’re going to get along well. Invitations are flying at me like crazy, and while that seemed great at first, now I feel this expectation to satisfy all of these people, accepting drinks left and right because I don’t want to be the loser who said no.
Now I can’t stand up without feeling like I’m going to explode and vomit.
Another cup is passed to me, and without even looking up at who is there, I stare at the cup and shake my head, declining it.
“One more,” they insist.
“I’m okay,” I assure them. “I don’t… I don’t feel good…”
“Come with me, I’ll take care of you.”
For a second I almost give in. I almost think they have their best interest. That’s until I watch a sinister grin take over their face.
I need Chris.
I need him now.
I stumble into the bathroom, locking myself in a stall. I kneel to the floor and pray that if I throw up, it’ll cure me. I know that’s not true.
I dig my phone out of my pocket, my eyes swirling. The nausea creeps in on me as I search for my boyfriends name in my phone.
He answers on the second ring, like he was waiting for my call. Like he knew this would happen.
“Baby.”
“I need someone,” I cry out, skipping over a greeting.
I hear a loud sigh from his end, not one of annoyance, but one that shows that he’s disappointed.
“I fucking told-“
“Stop!” I choke on a sob. “I fucking get it! You know everything, don’t you! That’s not the point. I’m in the bathroom because I’m sick and this guy is waiting for me outside. Please just send someone here. I’m begging you. Just don’t say I told you so. I wanted to do something good for myself tonight. I thought this would be fine.”
“Okay,” he says. “Give me 30 minutes. Keep your phone on you and don’t turn your location off. Don’t leave the bathroom either.”
Chris’ POV
I told her so.
I knew this would happen, but I was busy in meetings at home to go to the event with her. I knew she shouldn’t have gone alone, but there wasn’t anyone who could attend at her side, and she was so adamant on going alone so she could make friends.
I know it’s sad, but it was also fucking dangerous, and I told her that from the start.
I check the locations of my brothers, knowing they’re both doing work. Today was designated for us all to work on our personal projects. I had Fresh Love meetings happening over Zoom, Matt was picked up and taken to photoshoots, and after doing some interviews, Nick went to a friends.
They’re also on opposite sides of the city, and there’s no way they could get to her in time.
Luckily my last meeting ended, and I could order an Uber, but with LA traffic, it would take me an hour to get to her.
Fuck it.
I find myself digging around in Matt’s room, searching for the spare key to his car. I find it after a few minutes, and I’m sure he’ll have a fit about me going through his things, but I don’t give a damn right now.
I don’t have my license yet. I’ve been sitting on my permit for a few years. I was planning on getting it soon so I didn’t have to have Matt drive me on dates, but now I know I can’t sit around and wait any longer. If she needs to be rescued, I need to be there for her.
I sit in the drivers seat of the car, turning the engine on, and feeling a wave of nerves take over me. I have no problem with driving. The issue is that I’ll be fucked if I get caught without my license.
Just think about her.
Seconds later I’m flying down the street, white knuckling the steering wheel as I track down her location.
I drive in complete silence, trying to focus. She’s probably scared right now, and I had the nerve to bitch at her.
Guilt takes over me as I complete the drive. I pull into a random spot on the street and run inside, heading for the women’s bathroom. Girls waiting outside the door curse at me for cutting in front of them, also saying that it’s not for me to use. I ignore them all.
“Babe, it’s me.”
I watch one of the doors swing open slowly, my girlfriend dragging herself out.
My heart sinks. She’s drunk, confused, scared, and there’s makeup stains on her face.
“Is he still out there?” she asks, fear lacing her voice.
I shake my head as I wrap my arms around her. “No, baby. No one’s outside other than some girls mad that I came in here.”
She breaks down in my arms. I squeeze her tighter and kiss the top of her head.
“You were right.”
“Shh,” I hush her, swaying her enough to calm her, but not enough to make her dizzy or sick. “Let’s just get you home baby.”
tag list: @freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl @oliviasturniolo21 @keira324 @sstvrnioloo @sturnitup @sturnsvoid @theyluv-meee @therewilljustbereputationts13 @ilovedasturniolos @dancemomsfanee @rootbeerworshiper @sturn3ol0 @swaggygirlboss123 @lustfulslxt
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It's Me, I'm The April fool
Funny Story Universe
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Mitchell!Reader, Platonic!Bradley Bradshaw x female!reader
TW:mentions of pregnancy, brief mention of breeding kink I think thats it
Summary: Bradley really needs to learn to mind his own business.
Word Count:2.1k
"Well, fuck."
You and Jake stare down at the two pink lines in disbelief, thoughts coming and going at warp speed. Jake is borderline buzzing with happiness and excitement but waits to see your reaction before showing it.
He looks at the side of your face, trying to get a read on what you're feeling. Truth be told, you aren't sure. There's a mixture of glee and excitement, you know that much. You love Jake more than anything, and the idea of having a mini Seresin running around causes your heart to swell with love.
Overpowering all of that though, at the very forefront of your mind flashing in giant neon letters, is fear. Not fear of becoming a mother or of Jake running for the hills never to be seen again, but fear of your dad.
He specifically told you to be careful, yet here you are, staring parenthood in the face. It almost makes you laugh because you know exactly when you got pregnant. It happened the same night Mav found out and nearly had a heart attack just at the prospect of you dating Jake.
In your defense, you usually were careful. It's not your fault that your dad didn't learn his lesson about tempting you and Jake. It also doesn't help that Jake fucking Seresin has one massive breeding kink. You weren't exactly complaining at the time.
"Talk to me, baby. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
You're broken from your trance and turn to face your boyfriend.
"Dad is going to kill us."
Jake has the nerve to laugh, and you smack his arm with a scowl.
"It's not funny, Seresin!"
He manages to get his laughter under control, stifling tiny giggles as he tries to put on a serious face.
"He's not going to kill you. You're his only child and carrying his only grandchild. Me, on the other hand? Let's hope the only thing he finds worse than a grandchild out of wedlock is a bastard grandchild."
Jake can see you trying not to laugh at his antics, and his stomach flips when he manages to get a smile out of you.
"There's my pretty girl. We'll figure out Mav later, okay?"
You scoff and roll your eyes, settling back on the counter with your arms crossed.
"Yeah, because that worked out so well last time."
He pokes your sides and you almost hate how he manages to cheer you up even in the tensest situations. Almost.
"Well, now we know. I'll make sure to climb to a higher surface so he can't reach me." His face is completely deadpan, and you snort.
"You're fucking ridiculous."
Two weeks later, you've both fallen in love with the little bean, and you've had to physically drag Jake out of the baby section in every store you've set foot in.
You're just leaving the doctor's office, a small black and white sonogram tucked into Jake's back pocket. You're twelve weeks along, and Jake is riding a high only comparable to racing through the skies.
The two of you chat in the car on the way to the Hard Deck; you're supposed to meet the team for drinks. You are still figuring out how to get around that, seeing as no one knows about your little surprise.
"Do you think they'll have my eyes?" Jake asks, and love explodes in your chest.
"I hope so. Honestly, I think they'll be a carbon copy of you."
The thought makes his head swim, and he's consumed by images of a little blonde-haired boy or girl running around with his self-assured attitude. He knows they're going to be a handful, between his arrogance and your ability to charm anyone that looks your way. He can't wait.
You stroll into the bar, immediately sitting by the pool tables to watch a heated game between Rooster and Coyote. The next couple of hours is spent laughing and making bets on who will win.
It's not until Rooster orders a round of shots that you start to panic, and Jake can see the way your pupils widen as you try to think of an excuse. The tequila is set down in front of you, and you just stare at it.
Jake slams his back, and when he's sure no one is looking, he takes yours too. You give him a grateful smile and pray that this isn't a night of heavy drinking. If Jake is doing double, he's going to end up getting his stomach pumped.
Unbeknownst to you, Bradley does see the interaction and frowns but decides not to say anything. Maybe you're just not feeling well. He doesn't give it much more thought.
But then, when everyone is leaving and he's walking with you to Jake's truck, something happens. Jake drops something, and when he bends down to pick it up, he sees a little white square sticking out of his pocket.
He doesn't think twice as he plucks it out and looks at it, always too nosy for his own good.
You freeze when you see it in his hands, and Bradley's face is as white as a ghost. His eyes rake over the image for a solid minute as you and Jake watch, waiting for the impending explosion.
"What the fuck am I looking at?" Bradley whispers, and you gulp.
He peers down at you and takes in the way you're wringing your hands and shifting back and forth.
"Y/N, what the fuck am I looking at?"
His voice is almost too calm, and you think you broke him for a second. Jake glances between the two of you but remains silent. He's almost certain that if he dares to utter a single word right now, Bradley will be on him, and unlike Mav, he could do severe damage.
"Surprise?"
Bradley looks like he's about to faint and vaguely registers bile rising in his throat.
"No, nope. This is a prank, right? I know you're not dumb enough to get pregnant when Mav expressly told you not to. Maybe Hangman, but not my baby sister."
You chew on your lip, and Bradley has to fully walk away for a second before rounding back and halting in front of you.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you get off on pissing off Mav or something? You're going to be a single mom!"
He's practically yelling at this point, and you shush him harshly before yanking him closer to the truck, away from prying ears.
"No, I'm not, Bradley. Jake isn't going anywhere."
He gives you a bewildered look and throws his hands up in the air, doing a complete spin to try and process the new information.
"Maybe not by choice, but Mav is going to kill him! I don't mean get angry and yell. I mean full military service, casket in the ground kill him. He just told you three months ago not to get her pregnant out of wedlock."
He's facing Jake now, and you have to credit the blonde pilot for never wavering in the face of adversity.
"Well, I actually have a solution to that problem." He shrugs.
You and Bradley both look at him expectantly. If he has any ideas, you have yet to hear them.
"We could just elope."
Bradley barks out a disbelieving laugh, but you don't find the matter funny at all. Marry Jake? Usually, the thought of marrying a man you've been with for less than a year would send you sprinting in the opposite direction, but this isn't any man.
It's Jake, the man that makes you laugh when you're crying and always eats your mushrooms because you can't stand the texture. The man who was so over the moon at becoming a father that once he knew you were okay, fell to his knees and hasn't stopped talking to your non-existent belly since.
You're already attached to him for life, and the thought has crossed your mind. You don't hate it.
"Jake, don't marry me just because I got knocked up." You sigh, and he shakes his head.
"No, I've been thinking about this since that first night. Just seemed too crazy. It makes perfect sense, though, and Y/N Seresin has a nice ring to it.
You smile brightly at the sentiment and slowly nod your head.
"Okay, let's do it. Let's elope."
Bradley lets out a sound akin to a wounded animal, and you're suddenly reminded that he's there.
"This is the worst idea I've ever heard. Mav will think you're doing it out of obligation and try to stop it. You can't be serious."
You ponder for a few seconds, and Bradley can almost read your thoughts. He doesn't like the look on your face, the one you get right before you drag him into one of your harebrained schemes.
"So we won't tell him until after."
You say it as if it's the most simple thing in the world, and Bradley's knees almost give out. This is the worst deja vu he's ever had; how the fuck does he keep getting wrapped up in this shit?
"No, absolutely not. Last time you said that I aged ten years in six months. You're pregnant. You can't just hide this for months. How far along are you?"
You release an agitated sigh and lean up against Jake's hood.
"Twelve weeks."
Bradley's eyes widen, and you would almost feel bad if it didn't look so funny.
"Twelve wee- what did you get pregnant the night he told you not to?"
You know it's a rhetorical question but answer anyway.
"Yeah, actually. It's kind of funny when you think about it."
Bradley actually sits on the gravel this time, staring ahead into the abyss.
"It's actually not funny, and I wish I could think about literally anything else. Why am I always the one that has to keep a secret? I hate keeping secrets."
He's whining, and you stifle a laugh.
"Because you're always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You do this to yourself."
He shoots you a mean glare, and you nudge him with your knee.
"Cheer up. This means you get to be the witness."
His head snaps to look up at you, and his mouth falls open.
"Objection!"
Your eyebrows shoot up, and you choke on a laugh.
"You can't scream objection in a private conversation, Roos."
He leaps to his feet, and you adjust the angle of your head to stare up at him.
"Well, I just did. It's one thing to ask me to hide something like this. But you want me to witness your elopement and not tell anyone?"
Jake finally steps in and subtly nudges Bradley back a few inches; he's gotten a little too close for his liking.
"Well, you're the only one who knows. Besides, it should be someone important to us. We'll have the big wedding after all this is said and done."
Bradley stares him down for a second and ponders the idea.
"You think I'm important?"
Jake scoffs and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him.
"That's what you took away from that?"
Bradley nods, and Jake closes his eyes, already regretting his next words.
"If I say yes, then will you do it?"
You look on with amusement and give Bradley your best puppy dog eyes.
"Guess you'll have to find out."
Jake pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head back to look at the sky.
"Fine. Yes, you are important to both of us, and we would love it if you were the one to be there."
The words are almost like acid on his tongue, and he'll never forgive the grinning pilot for making him say it.
"Okay, I'll do it. But you have to tell Mav soon!" He points his finger at you, and you recoil.
"Don't point that thing at me, Bradshaw."
He lowers his hand, and you clap, giddy at the impending nuptials.
"Okay, we'll put it together and let you know. Right now, I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. This kid is sucking the life out of me."
Bradley snorts and tilts his head to the side.
"Yeah, I would imagine a Seresin will do that to you." He mutters, and you kick him in his knee.
"Ow!" He yelps, reaching down to grab the area while hopping on the opposite leg.
"Watch it. They're half Mitchell too, you know."
Bradley scowls when Jake coughs to cover a laugh, and you turn to hop in the truck. Jake opens the door before giving his friend a nod and driving you home. This should be very interesting.
#jake seresin#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw#top gun imagine#hangman top gun#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin top gun#jake seresin fic#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin
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time out (part 1)
[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader
summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.
warnings: angst-ish, description of (boxing) injuries, self-destructive behaviours, briefly implied death, pov switch (yay), gtranslate spanish
word count: 3.9k
a/n: ive never written 42 miles before but he's a cool lil guy split into two parts cuz it was too long 😭 semi-edited (for the millionth time)
PART 2 → / THE AU
"Just six rounds in, Miles Morales knocks out the Vulture!"
Screams and cheers exploded from your phone as you laid in bed, watching the recap of your boyfriend's boxing match. Your eyes were straining from how close you were holding the screen to your face; this was probably the third time you’d watched Miles’ win. After training to hell and back, he’d made it to the national league with you and Aaron to support him. He did more than just “make it”, in fact. His “revolutionary” victory was plastered all over social media and the news. Everywhere you looked was: “17-YEAR-OLD NYC BOXER OVERTAKES LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION ‘VULTURE’ IN US NATIONALS”. Miles Morales — your boyfriend — had made boxing history.
The giddy grin on your face only grew wider as he came up again on screen, sporting the stoic expression he'd perfected over the last few months behind the overly-done editing and animations of the recap. As much as you'd wanted to go out and see him live (though begging your family to let you go to Vegas wasn’t exactly feasible), he'd made it clear he didn't want you, or anyone for that matter, in that arena. It was something about having "total focus" — and it must've worked, you thought, as you watched him give his post-fight interview.
“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”
Despite his boyish, adrenaline-fuelled shout at the mic, the quiet laugh you let out was one of pride rather than embarrassment. He had every right to celebrate, and you were watching, even if it wasn’t live. Everything he'd done up until this point was well worth it: the constant training, sparring, the late nights and early mornings — maybe even the countless unanswered texts and missed calls too. Miles had worked himself to the bone, and while it might've worried you at the time, it was nothing compared to the satisfaction you felt while watching him on screen. He knew what he was doing; Miles was semi-professional at this point. You had to let him do his own thing, even if that meant letting him go for a while.
Right now, though, Miles was home from Vegas. Tapping out of the video, you scrambled to your messages. The last ones were from you, sent weeks ago, a "good luck" and "i love you" read and without a response. Your fingers kept missing the keys, and you frowned at yourself until you finally were able to hit send.
CONGRATS BABY!!!
Not delivered
IM SO PROUD OF YOU
Not delivered
You tried resending them, only to be met with the same red message.
why arent my texts sending
Not delivered
miles???
Not delivered
Not delivered? It'd almost been three days since the tournament; Miles always had his phone on.
"To leave a message, please press one—" The call went to voicemail for the third time. Your stomach swirled with something like uncertainty. It didn't even ring at all. Miles made it a habit to always be available, so why...?
Boxers needed time to recover, he was probably just tired and turned his phone off. Or he could be busy with an interview; Miles Morales was sort of a celebrity right now — who wouldn't want to talk to the 17-year-old boxing prodigy? You knew you wanted to, prodigy or not.
It was probably because you hadn’t seen Miles in so long, but possibilities kept forming in your head, disappearing just as fast. What if he blocked you? Or he could’ve changed his number. Were you over? No. Nope. No way. Not like this.
There was one other reason that made some sort of sense, but you decided to think against it. Miles had made it to the semi-finals in entire the National League. It was over; he'd gotten what he wanted. He was supposed to be resting right now.
Miles wasn't that stupid, right...?
You pulled up Rio's contact. It was better to be safe than sorry.
Riiiiiiing, riiiiiiing…
Better for him to be safe than sorry — or stupid.
"Hello?"
"Hola, tía, uh, could I speak to Miles?" You felt just a little crazy as you held the phone to your ear, but there was no harm in calling his mom.
"Ah, he's not home right now — said he was going out with his tío."
"Oh… Do you know where they went?"
"I'm not sure. Something important. About a... contract?"
"Contract…?" you muttered to yourself. “Okay… thank you.” It wasn't like you knew anything about a contract, though it wasn't like Miles would tell you anyway. At least he was safe, and with Aaron. It was probably important, official — something that didn't involve you. Not a lot of things in Miles’ life involved you, it seemed.
"How have you been?” Rio's voice interrupted your thoughts. You had called her out of nowhere, and after a while. "Have you eaten yet?"
"Oh, um..." The last time you'd talked to Rio was… right before Miles had left for Vegas. Well, you hadn't exactly talked. All you remember is just comforting her in silence. "Yeah, tía. Have you?"
"I have, but I've just been all over the place recently. So many reporters…" Rio's voice lifted up slightly in exasperation. You could only imagine what it was like for her. Your feelings suddenly felt a lot less significant, and you were back to your comforting mode all over again.
"I see. Must be exhausting." You attempted a polite laugh, which came out more like a sigh. If only you could be as patient as Rio…
"I'm so proud, though." Her voice warmed with a smile. If your chest ached with melancholy or empathy, you didn't know. "I didn't want him to leave home so soon. I still think this whole… professional thing is a bit too much, but… I want to trust him also."
"I'm sure he'll be fine, tía. If he's in the nationals already, he's probably getting a lot of support." It was more like you were trying to convince yourself. "I'm sure he has great coaches... and he's got me and Aar— uh, his uncle, too."
"I know…" For a moment, you weren't sure if either of you had anymore to say.
"…If not, I'll have to go there myself and give them a piece of my mind, eh?" she continued. You weren’t sure if it was a joke, but a smile formed on your lips anyway.
"Yeah…" A quiet laugh leaving your mouth at the image of Rio cussing out Miles' poor manager, in two languages no less. No wonder he was such a good boxer — Rio must have passed down her fighting spirit. "Maybe you'd even get signed,” you joked, the image of that even more amusing (and a scary possibility.)
Rio let out her own laugh, and your smile only grew; talking to her always made you feel better. "Me? Boxing? Nunca (Never.) — I'll work in that hospital until the end of me."
There was another stretch of silence. You thinned out a sigh, trying not to let the smile leave your face, even if she wasn’t there to see it.
"Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll tell Miles to come and get you."
"Sure, tía, I'd love to." He probably just needed a break. Not from you specifically, but in general.
"You know tú y Miles sois mi vida, ¿bien?" (you and Miles are my life, right?) It wasn’t often Rio said that, but you always remembered every time she did, and how it made you feel — like you were family. Rio was pretty much a second mother to you. It made you wonder what Miles' father would've been like.
"Well, it's getting late, and I have a lot of laundry to fold." Rio's tone had a fake sort of enthusiasm — tiredness? You couldn’t really tell with her; the woman was always upbeat. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
"I will." It was late, you realised, and the sky outside your window was a lot darker than it had been before. "You too, tía."
“Descansa, ¿sí?” (Get some rest, yes?)
“Sí, tía.”
The call ended, and you were left facing your messages, a bittersweet feeling hugging you from behind. Right now, Miles was out with Aaron, about some contract, probably to do with boxing…
But why weren't your texts going through?
miles are you ok?
Not delivered
im really proud of you
Not delivered
i wish i couldve seen you live
Not delivered
It wasn’t like there was much point, but…
i love you
Not delivered
Maybe it was just out of habit; maybe you just missed him. Your reflection frowned at you behind the messages, thumb hovering over the power button to shut your phone off, until your phone pinged with a notification — Aaron was texting you.
Hey man
Out of town
LMK if miles breaks in
You sat up immediately, fingers floating uselessly above the keys for a moment.
sure
Read at 11:24PM
are you out of town already?
Read at 11:25PM
Ping!
Yeah
@ Queens
Miles was with Aaron about some “contract”... and Aaron was in Queens?
You knew Miles hadn't blocked you, or turned his phone off — he had no signal. And there was only one place in Brooklyn you could think of that had no reception, and that MIles had any reason to be in. It was also the one place you didn't want him to go to: that damn warehouse.
The place he’d spent training all those weeks — what reason did he have to be there right after finishing the tournament? Putting on your jacket, blinking back the sleepiness and collecting the fleeting remains of patience you had left, you could only hope that Miles had even a shred of common sense with him.
THWACK! THWACK! THWA— Crack!
"Mierda..." (Shit...) Miles hissed, drawing his glove away from the punching bag. His hand was paralysed for a moment, a deep, gnawing pang running through his fingers down to the rest of his arm. The tight gloves only suffocated him more, doing nothing to ease the pain as he gritted his teeth and waited for it to dull down.
Why was he even here? It was over — that Norman bastard had blown him off hours ago. It felt like a couple minutes, the words still fresh in his mind. Searing pain shot through his hand when he tried to flex his fingers, the rest of his muscles starting to ache too. This was going to hurt after the adrenaline wore off. Damn it, Morales.
The walls flashed white all of a sudden, a faint rumble of thunder interrupting the pounding of his heartbeat as he tried to straighten himself out. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the incoming storm. The playlist he was listening to had finished ages ago — your playlist. If he didn’t want to think about you, he wasn’t doing a good job of it.
Rain blasted quietly against the windows, and Miles’ eyes stung with dryness as he squeezed them shut. There was no way he'd be able to go back now, not to you, definitely not to his mom. She'd probably go on and on about how he should've taken his jacket, how he ruined his hair in the rain again, maybe how he wasted his damn time being a boxer...
It was probably fair; his mom had enough on her plate trying to support them both — especially him right now. She’d done everything in her power to make sure he got to Vegas, and he’d just left her alone again right after. But how was he meant to face her now? He was supposed to make her proud, make his dad proud, but it wasn’t like he had any pride left after he’d lost his contract. The Green Goblin had probably set the record for fastest knockout when Miles lost to him. Of course just the semi-finals weren’t enough; Norman Osborn was the big shot of boxing, and if Miles lost to some rookie in just about 15 seconds, then maybe he wasn’t worth the investment.
It didn’t make sense — nothing about The Green Goblin (or “Harry”, whatever they liked to gossip about) made sense. He’d just debuted, but didn’t even look like a boxer; he didn’t stand right, his style was inconsistent, his head movement was all over the place, but his punch had almost knocked Miles’ brain straight out of his skull. It was almost superhuman. Even with no openings, the freak of nature had forced his way through like an animal. And he was scrawny, not nearly as built as Miles at least, like he should’ve been in the weight class down. Either way, the asshole was being celebrated, and Miles was out of a contract.
And Miles had just stood there, while Norman berated him and tore Miles’ dream apart right in front of his very eyes. Maybe he’d hoped too much as an “amateur” boxer. That’s all he was, apparently — no matter how hard he worked, or what he achieved, or what he promised.
“Why should I keep you? The Vulture was destined to lose at his age.”
“Even rigged matches wouldn’t get you anywhere.”
“I mean, you’re as good at fighting as one of those street kids.”
“That’s all you were before I decided to give you a chance, no?”
The image of the Norman’s uncanny, sneering face sent his good fist reeling towards the punching bag. Should’ve pummelled his pelirojo (redhead) ass to the ground—
"Miles!"
The glove crumpled mid-air against the bag, arm going rigid. It was silent as he let out a breath through his teeth — he wasn’t hearing things, was he?
The rush was starting wearing off, his mind starting to cloud and pain faintly radiating again from his other hand. His good fist tightened inside the glove, pushed against the bag which was still and awkwardly tilted.
You’re losing focus, just punch the damn thing—
"Miles, what the hell are you doing here?"
The noise of the door shutting made him turn around, floor squeaking under his stumbling feet. It was you by the door, breathing just as heavily as him and dripping head to toe with rain, in a jacket that was way too thin for any sort of weather.
Dios... (God...) He knew he couldn’t be hallucinating that disapproving look on your face.
Rain was pattering gently against the glass as he pulled his arm away away from the bag, letting it swing in front of him before his eyes met yours.
"It's midnight, what are you..." A sharp intake of breath interrupted your words — a shiver.
"What’re you doin’ here...?" Miles asked instead through a grimace. His voice came out wrong — hoarse. Cold sweat was clinging to his skin, and his throat was dry and tightening. A mess — that’s what you were talking to right now, barely your boyfriend. All he could do was stare as the rush died down and his senses were coming back to him. The fog in his mind made it hard to speak, even harder to look at you.
"My texts and calls weren't going through— You weren't with Aaron or your mom, I just..." You sucked in another breath through your teeth; raindrops were glistening on your skin. He should’ve just stayed home, damn it. "Was just worried."
Well, he certainly looked worrying, even more so than you. Swallowing back his breathlessness wasn’t helping; it was like he’d ran a marathon with his fists. The pain from his knuckle was starting to bleed into the rest of his hand so much so that it might’ve been broken.
"'M good... You, though?" He let out a bit of a growl to clear his throat before deciding to cut straight to the chase: you’d come here in the middle of the night, in the rain, by yourself. As much as he was being an idiot right now, the amount of times he’d told you to not do any of those things, pleaded with you even, was making you look like the delirious one in his eyes. Miles was being stubborn, but he knew you were worse.
“You insane…?” he muttered, taking a step away from the bag. “Did Aaron tell you to come here or sumn’?"
"No, he was supposed to be with you," you shot back, eyes narrowing at him from under your hood before thunder bellowed from all around. The rain was growing into a loud static noise, and your voice was muffled as your expression grew more exasperated. "You came home 3 days ago and you didn't even text me. Yeah, I probably should've texted you, and I tried, but now you're here training alone again when your mom thinks you're with Aaron and—"
"You come here to scold me?" His jaw crunched a little as he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Miles wasn’t trying to be mad at you — he was just mad in general. It just so happened to be in your direction right now.
“Huh? No, I came here because you scared the hell out of me — and Aaron told me to not let you break into his place.”
If it was supposed to be funny, the laugh he let out was anything but amused. At least Aaron wasn’t here for him to disappoint too, or get a weirdly-phrased life lesson from, or both. “Well I’m not breakin’ in, and I told you, I’m good, so I don’t get why you’re still here.”
You stepped a little closer, and Miles’ heels dug into the ground to keep himself from moving. “Isn’t it obvious? Or are you just being difficult on purpose?”
“Difficult?” he mirrored dryly, trying to push back the growing exhaustion clouding his head.
“Can you not just take a break for once? It’s over, Miles; you already won—”
“I didn’t win.” The walls echoed with his voice, words having escaped on their own. It wasn’t at you, but he didn’t know what he was mad at, resolve fading as he watched your face straighten with realisation.
“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here…”
His fingers unconsciously clawed into the boxing glove, pain shoot through his hand. Nothing came out of his mouth, but his silence was loud — incriminating. That was the reason, right? That he didn't win?
“Kid didn’t stand a chance.” What was the point of you being here?
“A one-punch concussion — on a newbie, no less.” It was over, like you said.
“It’s a shame, I bet on him too.” Everyone had given up on him.
“You should be resting right now— you’re shaking, Miles.” So why wouldn't you?
“No ‘m not…” is all he could muster, flexing his shoulders uncomfortably. Your hand was on his arm before he could realise, and he was met with a stern look as he tried to keep his gaze from shaking too.
The velcro on his gloves crunched as you started undoing them, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. It’s not like he had the energy.
“You coulda’ got hurt on your way here.” The croak in his voice made him sound more hopeless than reprimanding as you slipped off the first glove, pausing half-way down his palm. His bare palm.
“…I could’ve got hurt?” Miles held back a sigh as he was made to look at his own hand. Bruised, blackened, branded with anger — it hurt more to look at it than anything. “You didn’t wear your wraps?”
The other glove slid off, revealing the fresh, festering swelling coming from his middle knuckle — the aftermath of that sickening cracking noise. You took his curled hand, easing up his middle finger and making him hiss under his breath.
“Think you can straighten it?” you muttered, gently trying to do it yourself only to lose his hand from your grip.
“’S gonna be fine,” he mumbled, eyes fixed to the side as his hand closed back up.
“It won’t if you can’t move it properly.”
“You a doctor now?”
“Nah, but your mom’s a nurse.” You carefully held his hand by palm, thumb tracing over the tender, split skin, his fingers wrapping around the side of your hand in futile protest. He’d have to bother his mom again — he didn’t even think about that. “You basically just punched yourself.”
Everything you were saying was right — it always was. He hated that fact.
“You a boxing expert too?” he thought to retort.
“Thought that was supposed to be you.” Miles’ eyes narrowed, and yours narrowed in response. “I don’t get it, baby...” you sighed, shaking your head a little as you put down the gloves to the side.
Baby. His breath almost hitched. You were dating, and it didn’t even seem like it anymore. Not after all those weeks apart. The word didn’t even feel endearing, it was condescending, like he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he was being a baby, and maybe he always had been. You were the one who always had to drag him out of this make-shift gym. Right now was no different, except…
“…Why are you still doing this?” he heard you mutter, still turned away with his hand in your grip. You didn’t even know the half of it.
“Why are you still here?” His hand tried to slip away again, but you only took it by the wrist instead, now facing him.
“Why won’t you answer my questions, Miles?” Your voice deadened into a whisper, only serving to frustrate him.
“I don’t know why you care so much.” He let out a quiet huff, staring at your hand when your grip ceased to relax.
“I care because you look like you’re about to pass out and I can’t let my boyfriend kill himself over something stupid—”
“I’m not killing myse—” A pained groan escaped his mouth as you ruthlessly pushed up his injured finger.
“Don’t push me, Miles.” Oh, you were serious.
“You’re pushin’ sumn’,” he strained through gritted teeth. “Mierda… quit it already.”
The pain tore on another moment, and he was just now realising how bad it actually hurt. All you were doing was staring at him, brows knitted together. “Cariño, please…” he whispered, a wince forming on his face.
Your hand loosened, and he let out a quiet, frustrated, somewhat relieved sigh.
Still a sucker for nice words... He didn’t say them as much as he would’ve liked.
“You need to take a time out,” you stated after a beat of silence. The expression on your face was serious again, killing any sense of tenderness you might’ve shown.
He freed his hand from your grip with the opportunity, before giving you a dubious look. “Like, for kids?”
“Like for boxers, dumbass.” Your gaze followed his retreating hand for a moment before falling back on his eyes. “But if you want me to treat you like a kid…”
“I’m good.” Another roar of thunder rang out before he could add anything, and the rain was so heavy that anything you could see from the windows became a blur.
“…You got your jacket?” you suggested, without much hope.
The idea only made Miles’ eyes squeeze shut again. A shallow exhale left him, and he tried not to let his fatigue cloud his judgement. If he kept talking stupid to you, he’d probably have worse to worry about than a broken knuckle. “You think imma go outside?”
All you could do was sigh. It seemed like the two of you would be in “time out” for a while.
🕸️🔭👾
thank you for reading part 2 soon but then again its not my fav fic in the world 💔 i rewrote this like 8 trillion times and it still wasn't clicking for me 😭 idk i just got sick of editing it again and again
this isn't as short as my usual fics because i felt like i needed to add context... I've never written an au or anything remotely original so this is just yeah... im tryna figure it out! i have . too much lore for this au
reblogs appreciated lmk if you did like it (i hope this is someone's cup of tea lmao)
catch my atsv masterlist here !
#miles 42 x reader#42!miles morales x reader#42 miles morales#earth 42 miles morales x reader#miles 42#earth 42 miles x you#miles g morales x reader#earth 42 miles x reader#miles g morales#miles gonzalo morales#atsv fanfiction#across the spiderverse#atsv x you#42!miles x reader#atsv#prowler miles x you#prowler miles x reader#prowler miles#vhstown
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𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒
Kim Seungmin/Female Reader
wc: 11k
rating: mature/explicit ಇ
comments: thanks everyone for the likes and reblogs and feedback! (´︶`) knowing someone is enjoying my fics makes writing seungmin so much easier. technically this is the last part, but not really...
⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⋆｡ ﾟ｡ ⋆
→ Blind Date
→ Second Date
→ Third Date
Part 4 of 4
Seungmin goes quiet after that, relaxes against the arm of the couch. You’re on the opposite side, doing the same. You watch each other carefully , but nobody makes a move, and nobody starts to speak.
You wonder if there was something you could have done to avoid all of this drama. Four and a half months of wondering; of being so down you can barely make it to work some days. Both of you have been really bad at this.
“Yes, I know it’s complicated.”
-
Counting the days and weeks until Seungmin comes back to you has been excruciating, sometimes anxiety inducing, and the only thing really keeping you together.
As of today it’s been 136 days since you spent the night with him. Twenty weeks, almost, since you looked at him face to face—touched him, kissed him, desperately wanted to confess how you’ve already fallen for him, and you never want to leave his side again.
But he did text you three days ago.
A part of you feels like giving up, because maybe this has gone on for far too long.
It’s nothing that Seungmin has done. He hasn’t said anything to you about things likely not working out. He talks to you in the same sweet, cheery way he always has when he actually has time to text, or call. You don’t resent him for his lack of communication, ever, because you know his lifestyle is worlds away from yours.
But the part of you that’s crazy about him sits and thinks: he can call for a five minute conversation, ask me how I am before I completely fall apart. You think…why hasn’t he messaged back? It takes a few seconds.
You hate having these thoughts. But you’re only human, and you have so much empty time to think about him.
It’s just not the same for him. It might never be the same for him.
Right now you’re staring out of your classroom window, completely lost in thought. The kids are working quietly, and it’s honestly the first time all day where you’ve been truly alone in your head.
There’s a loud knock on the door, and it makes you, and your students, jump.
“Come in…”
The door opens slowly, and the face that peeks through the door is a familiar one.
“Hey,” Choonhee waits a moment, then enters and closes the door behind her. She grabs a chair and finds a spot to sit directly in front of, across your desk.
“Hi, what’s up?”
“I’m on my way out, but I wanted to see you before I left. I keep missing you, and you’re not answering my messages.” The look she gives you is a little bit questioning, and a little bit irritated.
“Sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind. I’m trying to get out of this slump.”
“Slump? The same one you’ve been in for the last…” she gestures vaguely at nothing, “month? Maybe longer, I don’t know.”
“Yeah,” you manage, but it comes out shaky. You feel your throat tighten, and the air is pushed out of your lungs. Your eyes sting with tears. You can’t do this here.
“Hey hey, I’m sorry.” Choonhee starts to stand, “go pull yourself together, I’ll watch the class.”
You inhale deeply and make your way to the restroom. Luckily you have it to yourself, because when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, tears are starting to stream down your cheeks. The result of bottling up until you explode.
Talking to Choonhee about this was always an option, but you haven’t. For some reason, you didn’t want her know how deep the cut is that Seungmin has made in you.
Her blind date was probably never supposed to turn into this; something serious, something you want, maybe more than anything you’ve ever wanted. You feel stupid and childish about it, because you know who he is. Sometimes you have to remind yourself that it was him that initiated date number two, and three, sort of, otherwise you’ll convince yourself you somehow forced him into all of this.
It takes far too long for you to finish crying and clean yourself up, but she’s still sitting there waiting when you return.
“I’ll be over tonight, and we’re going to talk it out. Okay?” She says.
You nod, eyes still red, makeup probably giving you two black eyes.
“I have to get going, I’ll see you later. Your phone went off while you were in the bathroom.”
You watch her as she walks out, then look to your students. In a few minutes, they’ll be dismissed. And you can go home and finish the crying that you’ve started.
First, you sit and poke the screen of your phone. It’s just a text message.
No, it’s not just a text message. It’s Seungmin. Choonhee probably looked, but all she would’ve seen is the contact name for him; SM.
Weeks ago, you almost changed it to Minnie, but you didn’t. The impersonal, secretive SM remained. You unlock your phone and open it.
I hope you had a good day. You’re just leaving work, I think…if I have my time right
And just like that, he pulls you back up, and back in. He says the right thing at just the right time. Although today, he he did miss it by a few minutes.
Now you battle with whether or not you text him back immediately, or wait until you get home. Neither feels like the right thing to do. You stare down at the message until it’s time for you to dismiss your class, thinking of what to say to him.
It’s personal. He took note of the time, and remembered when it is you usually leave.
Part of you feels like crying again, but your heart is fluttering. You hate this.
———
“I got your favorite!” Choonhee starts unloading the bag of food she brought with her. “Don’t look so defeated over there.”
She let herself in while you sat folded up on the couch. You’re still looking at your phone, trying to figure out what to say to him. Should you keep it casual and tell him your day was alright? Lie?
No, you could tell him the truth; that it was a rough day, and you’ve had a lot of days like this lately because you haven’t seen him in such a long time. But you have no idea how he’d react to that. Maybe he would feel guilty about not texting more, or feel bad because he’s been too busy to see you when he is in Seoul.
Or maybe he would feel overwhelmed by it, and decide enough was enough.
Seungmin—the Seungmin you know, at least, has always come off very laidback. Open when he needed to be, but not overly so. He’s a little bit reserved, but so many moments with him have been…cute.
And Chicago. It’s been so long since Chicago—long enough that the memory is fading a little. You have to think back on it and keep yourself there, in that moment, to remember all the detail. It’s all still there, in your head.
Finally, you start to type.
“Hi Minnie. I had a rough day today…I hope I get to see you again soon.”
You stare at it until Choonhee clears her throat in an attempt to get your attention.
You read it once more, then send it.
“Okay, dinner is served. Eat and tell me what’s been bothering you.”
You set your phone face down on the table and take a few bites before getting into it. Starting the conversation will be the most difficult.
So you just start.
“This is a little bit my fault, isn’t it?” Choonhee listened quietly, but you could tell she wasn’t expecting this to be about him. “I pushed this on you. I knew he spoke to you back in…June? I think it was June. But I didn’t know you saw each other again after the first date.”
“Yeah, there was a second date. And a third. And, well…ya know.”
Her eyebrows raise, “what? Fourth, fifth?”
“No, we slept together.”
She’s silent for a long moment, but her eyes remain fixed on you.
“When I went home in July. Remember?”
She’s still silent.
“I haven’t seen him since then.”
“Seungmin doesn’t like opening up to people. He doesn’t do that. Or he didn’t, at least. Are you sure you didn’t just…dream it?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I didn’t dream about having sex with him and then convince myself it really happened.”
Choonhee throws her hands up and waves your remark away, “okay I’m sorry, I’m just…surprised. I mean, even the multiple dates is a little surprising.”
“Then why did you even set us up?”
She shrugs, and then struggles to find the right words, “I don’t know…you were both here, and alone. I didn’t want you to spend the holiday by yourself. I thought you’d like him…I guess I was right. I’m not usually good with matches.
“So…are you saying I should just move on?”
“No, absolutely not! Text him right now, and tell him you want to see him when he gets home. He doesn’t get to fuck and run. I don’t care who he is.”
She goes quiet for a few seconds, but you can tell she’s frustrated and deep in thought. “I knew you’d like him. I’m sorry, I made this mess. If he doesn’t get himself together and talk to you like he should, I’ll go find him myself.”
———
By the time your text message gets to Seungmin, he’s home, undressed, and about to hop into a very hot shower. He smiles when he reads Minnie, because in the far too few messages exchanged, you’ve mostly called him Seungmin. His smile fades when he reads the rest.
He knows he’s been bad at this. Not just bad, actually—he’s been pathetic. He’s ghosted you, and strung you along for weeks.
No, he thinks. It’s been months of sporadic texting. Every time he was home, or close to home, he ignored you. Not maliciously, of course, and ignored is a strong word. He messaged you, but it really was the bare minimum. Especially after the last time you were together; you gave yourself to him, and Seungmin took all that he could.
Now he can’t admit to you how much it scared him.
He sets his phone down for now, and climbs into the shower—because once again, his mind, body, and everything in between is tired.
He’s so tired, he feels like he could cry. Maybe if he just let go, let himself wrap around someone and cry into their chest, he would feel better.
———
“When did he text you last?” Choonhee is cleaning up the table, throwing things into the sink, and generally doing a terrible job of tidying. But she means well, and you let her at it. “Has it been a while?”
“Three days ago, before today. He sent a message while you were in my classroom earlier.”
“Oh, is that who the buzz was? Did you answer back? Maybe you should just make him wait around.”
“I replied right before we ate, only because it took me a while to figure out what to say.”
You’re back on the couch now, phone in hand, eyes staring at the stagnant message thread. Figuring out his schedule is tough sometimes, and you try (and usually fail) to stay off of Twitter and fan sites. Right now you’re sifting through them, though—looking for anything new.
You pull up a few airport photos from earlier today. Seungmin is hidden behind a mask and a hat, but you can see his eyes. He looks tired.
It makes your heart sink. You return to your message thread again and read through the last few texts; they feel more and more impersonal as time goes on, and that makes your heart sink, too.
Maybe he is pulling away from you.
“I know saying this won’t help, but do not let this take over. Don’t let him get into your head like this.”
“It’s too late for that.”
Choonhee grabs your arm and shakes it furiously, “he’s just a guy!”
———
Seungmin is flat on his back, covers fluffed up all around him, a pillow under his head, another under his feet. No matter what he does, he’s uncomfortable. He desperately wants and needs to fall asleep, but it’s alluding him. His brain won’t shut up.
The room is chilly, and that’s usually what does the trick. Cold room, warm bed, and he’s out like a light.
He picks up his phone and reads your text again.
Hi Minnie. I had a rough day today…I hope I get to see you again soon.
If only he could figure out what to say back to you. There are so many things he wants to say, and so few ways he can think of to type it out.
Even if he were to see you face to face, he’d be lost for words. Seungmin is not one to let people in, but he has already let you in.
And now he’s stupidly pushing you away.
He pulls up a photo of you and stares at it. This wasn’t the way he planned on relaxing, but his hand is finding it’s way under his shirt anyway, touching his stomach, slowly moving downward until reaches the waistband of his sweatpants.
Thinking of your one night together, somehow still vivid in his head after all this time, is enough to get him hard. And looking at you…he runs his hand down the length of his cock, grabs tight, and strokes himself slowly. The breath he lets out is shaky. He has to be quiet.
———
“Is he?” You look at her, only slightly defeated. “…just a guy?”
“You slept with him, you should know.”
“He’s not.”
The look she gives you is almost enough to make you rethink what you just said.
“I promise you, beneath everything, he’s like any other guy you’ve dated who got too close, freaked out, and disappeared.”
You shake your head. Then your phone buzzes in your hand, and the feeling makes your heart jump to your throat, and your stomach sink all at once. You don’t immediately move your eyes to the screen—you can’t.
“Was that him?”
Now you look. SM. You nod.
you still want to see me?
You will see him again, and you’ll tell him exactly how you feel.
“What did he say?”
You turn your phone so Choonhee can read the message. She rolls her eyes.
“He sounds like a guy. I’m sorry I got you into this…but, you are going to see him again I assume.”
“Yeah, of course.”
———
It’s not until you’re in bed, hours later, that you open his text in an attempt to answer. But it might be better to do this in the morning, because sending one and waiting for his reply is going to keep you up all night.
You stare anyway, trying to get your thoughts in order; your words, your feelings. Do you want him to know how you really feel now, or when you have him in front of you? Can you even get the right words out when he’s in front of you?
You open your notes app and begin working on a reply.
You know I want to see you, Seungmin. I’m trying to be patient and understanding, but it’s so hard when you’re on my mind every day. I hope you’re getting some rest, and I hope you’re doing well. And I hope I can see you before you leave again.
You fall asleep writing. And in the morning, there he is again. One text message sent at 5am.
I’m so sorry. I should have made time for you in October, but every time I wanted to ask you, I froze, I don’t know why, I have no excuse
For a moment, you think you accidentally sent the rough draft of your text in your sleep. You didn’t. This was just him, awake before dawn, finally giving you something sincere. Now you have to rethink your reply.
The typing notification pops up while you’re reading over his message again. Still awake at 6:45.
I remember you telling me you wake up at the same time every morning... Good morning
You feel like crying again. But not like yesterday.
“Good morning” is the best you can come up with this early. He’ll have to wait.
———
Seungmin falls asleep, eventually, but not comfortably.
He gets up from bed to clean himself up, change (he’s warm now, so he opts for less clothes), and hopefully he’ll still be a little bit tired by the time he hits the bed again.
At 4:45am, his body decides he’s had enough. Now he’s awake, eyes still closed, bed far too warm. He throws off the blankets and flips onto his back.
Immediately, and not surprisingly, Seungmin’s thoughts turn to you. You’re sleeping soundly, he hopes, unlike him. He imagines you in the bed he’s never seen; curled up, tucked in. Maybe if he was there with you, he could sleep.
Every time he gets back home, he tries to push himself again, and he fails. He did it in October, and then again in September, right before his birthday. He knows he can’t keep doing this to you.
He pulls out his phone and opens your message thread.
…I hope I get to see you again soon
Seungmin stops thinking and just types:
“I’m so sorry. I should have made time for you in October…”
He stops and reads it. October. He was busy with the album release, but if he looks back in his messages again, he can count the number of texts he sent on one hand. You sent just as many…well, one more than him. That last message he didn’t even reply to. You must have been fed up with him and his lack of communication. And you had every right to be.
“…but every time I wanted to ask you, I froze, I don’t know why, I have no excuse.”
This part is true. Seungmin is almost freezing again right now.
“I don’t know how to explain…”
Now he thinks.
“…how all of this is making me feel. Maybe I’m…”
Seungmin backspaces the last sentence before he even finishes it. And then he hits send.
At 6:45, he’s still wide awake. He remembers you telling him your alarm is always set for this time, so he sends one more message.
And you reply. He was right, you were awake. Just a good morning, though. He’s sure it’s far too early for you to deal with his wishy-washy bullshit.
———
When he doesn’t text again by lunch time, you decide he’s waited long enough. And you can’t waste time, really. He might not be in town for long.
“I want to see you, and I will see you. Today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. But I need it to be soon. Neither of us are allowed to be nervous anymore.”
It’s better, you decide, than whatever you wrote last night.
He’s silent as you drift through the rest of the school day (you assume he’s having trouble thinking of a reply to that), and right as the class is gathering their things and leaving, another teacher sneaks in and approaches you. Then you realize it’s not a teacher, but you recognize her. She’s a secretary you’ve spoken to a few times before.
She nods to you and smiles. “I know you’re on your way out, but there’s a visitor for you, a parent who insisted I bring them right to you. It seemed important.”
You have very specific times for parent/teacher visits, and this is not one of them. And there is nobody else who would visit you. You’re confused. “Okay, send them in…I guess.”
You look down at your phone—you doubt it, but maybe you missed a text message or a call. No, nothing.
“Hello.”
The way his voice floats over to you almost knocks you out, and when you turn to meet his eyes, your throat refuses to let you release the air in your lungs.
“Your last text was very insistent. I know this probably is not the best approach…but I haven’t been doing a very good job of anything lately.”
Still you just stare at him, lost for words. You look around your classroom, then down at yourself. This is not how you wanted to see him again, but do you have any room to complain?
He takes a few steps toward you, “was this a bad idea?”
You manage to shake your head and swallow. And then you realize your legs still work, with some effort. Two steps later, your arms wrap around his waist, your face disappears in his sweatshirt, and you squeeze.
His tiny, relieved laugh is music to your ears, and then his hands slide across your back until he’s fully embraced you.
You keep him there for a long time, and he doesn’t protest or try to pull you away. When he does speak again, it’s a question.
“How was your day?”
You slowly release him, but making eye contact is a bit of a challenge. “It’s better now.” So you fall apart when he does show up; no strong words, no looks of disbelief at his absence. You knew this would happen.
“Where can I take you? Home? Or…anywhere you want.”
“Home is good.”
“Okay, there’s a ride waiting for us.” He moves his hands up and over your shoulders, and he rests them on either side of your neck. “I understand if you’re angry with me, and if you stay that way.”
“I am. I don’t want to be.”
Seungmin leans closer, and he moves painfully slow, but eventually he makes it to your mouth. His kiss is light and short, but he keeps going back to peck at your lips, over and over, until you open up and hold him there.
Finally, clear memories of Chicago fill you up. His scent and his touch pull you right back, and you hope he remembers it like you do.
———
It feels like your first date. A quiet car ride, a slow ride up the elevator, an awkward, unsure walk down the hallway to your apartment door. Then walking into your messy living room.
“Are you hungry? I can order something for us,” he says as he’s carefully removing his shoes. “And we can talk while we wait.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll make some coffee.”
Seungmin doesn’t follow you to the kitchen, like he’s done a few times before. Instead, he sits on the couch, situating himself so he can still see you.
You try not to look at him as you work, but you fail, several times. He smiles every time your eyes meet, but it’s a sad smile. It’s not one you’re used to seeing.
“No small talk,” you tell him as you hand him his coffee. “I’ll lose my mind.”
“No small talk.” He nods.
“Where have you been?” You start, staring down at your mug. “Not physically, I know that already. I mean…in every other way.”
“Uhm—“ Seungmin thinks. His face twists a little, probably in confusion. “Where have I…”
“Mentally,” you can’t take your eyes off of him now. “Emotionally.”
“Oh, okay I understand.” He clears his throat, adjusts himself. “It’s been hard to keep my thoughts organized lately. It’s not just that I’ve been busy with work…I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“I’m sorry.”
Seungmin shakes his head, “I could’ve fixed it, I’m sure. If I would’ve just talked about things with you a while ago, I probably would have slept easier.”
“I kept you up?”
“Yes. Well, thinking about you. I do think about you, all the time, even if I haven’t kept in touch. But I’ve been over complicating things, I think.”
“Talk to me now. Please.”
You think you can see his cheeks turning pink. His eyes are wide and shiny, but he’s unsure.
“I know, Seungmin…it is hard. It’s been hard for me, and I feel like it’s been a little more difficult for you. I kept everything to myself all this time, up until yesterday.”
He gives you another questioning look.
“Choonhee forced it out of me.”
He nods, sets his coffee down, and swings his legs up on the couch. Something about him making himself more comfortable puts you at ease. You remember him mentioning before that he felt relaxed being here, alone with you. "I don’t feel any pressure here." You hope he still feels that way.
“Tell me what you told her.”
“She did most of the talking.”
“Then what did Choonhee tell you?”
“That you’re just a guy, and I shouldn’t let you get to me like this.”
Seungmin actually nods at that—but he’s not looking you in the eyes now, so maybe he’s just…thinking about it. Or maybe he’s agreeing. You don’t know where this is going yet.
“I am just a guy, she’s right. I don’t want to be just a guy, though. Not to you.”
“Oh…”
“I thought I knew what was going on when we were together in Chicago, and I thought I knew what I wanted. I’ve been thinking all this time that if this couldn’t be a normal, traditional relationship, you would not be happy, not satisfied. And you’d tell me you weren’t interested in me anymore. I thought you would tell me you couldn’t do it.”
You almost interject; tell him that’s never what you expected of him. You wouldn’t never do that. Why didn’t you say that before? Instead, you used the hypothetical “if you weren’t who you are” question on him. You remain quiet, though, hoping he continues.
“…what I’ve been doing isn’t much better than what I’ve been afraid of. But you’re very smart, and I always knew that.”
You just smile at him, waiting for more.
“That’s why you were so worried when you found out who I was. You know this is much more complicated than that.”
Seungmin goes quiet after that, relaxes against the arm of the couch. You’re on the opposite side, doing the same. You watch each other carefully , but nobody makes a move, and nobody starts to speak.
You wonder if there was something you could have done to avoid all of this drama. Four and a half months of wondering; of being so down you can barely make it to work some days. Both of you have been really bad at this.
“Yes, I know it’s complicated.”
He’s biting his lip. Tapping his foot. It’s almost touching you, and you want to stretch your leg out until it does, but right as you tell your brain to do it, his leg slides back. He sits up and leans forward, falls to his knees, and crawls across the couch.
Before you can squeak his name out, he’s straddling you, arms on either side of your waist. And then the full weight of his body is on you. Seungmin sets his head down gently against your chest and relaxes.
You freeze for a few seconds. You have fallen asleep on this couch with him before, but this feels like much more.
He doesn’t say anything, not even when you set your hand on his head—rake your fingers through his hair, wrap your other arm around his shoulders. He sighs, though.
When it feels like you’re drifting off to sleep, he finally speaks. It’s muffled against your shirt.
“You just want me, right?”
“What?”
“Even if nobody is allowed to know. And we can’t go out in public, and I have to pretend you don’t exist.”
“Seungmin, I know that we can’t have a normal relationship. I just want you…and to know that you want me.” You say the last part under your breath.
“I do.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I promise I’ll be better. And that I won’t be afraid to talk to you, and tell you too much.”
“You can tell me whatever you need to.”
“I don’t usually talk much…to anyone.”
It never occurred to you that he didn’t have someone to talk to when he was feeling down, or having a bad day. A bad week. He’s been bottling everything up, just like you have. Maybe for a very long time.
“You can talk to me about your bad days, Minnie, or when you can’t sleep. And about your good days. I would like to be that person.”
“Am I the reason you had a rough day yesterday? Have you had a lot of those?”
“Yeah, I have had a lot of bad days because I missed you.”
“You can tell me about your bad days, too. Even if they were bad because of me.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
Seungmin laughs, and it shakes your whole body. “Good.”
☾⋆⁺₊⋆
The next morning is almost normal. Your alarm goes off at its regular time—6:45, and you’re tired, which is also normal. The room is chilly, and it’s so warm under the blankets that getting up is nearly impossible. An ordinary morning. The one thing that makes it different is that Seungmin is there when you open your eyes.
The alarm doesn’t even make him stir, but when you finally turn it off, he groans.
“I’m sorry, go back to sleep.”
“Are you going to work?” He asks, eyes closed, voice raspy with sleep.
“No, not today. I found someone to cover for me.”
He smiles and reaches his arm toward you, and he feels blindly around where he thinks you might be. “Why are you so far away?”
You move closer and grab his arm, “I’m right here. Go back to sleep.”
“I’ll try.”
…
Sleep eventually finds both of you again. When you wake back up a few hours later, he’s still there, breathing deeply, melting into your bed. You need to get up, but you wait a little longer. You really don’t want to wake him right now.
When he eventually wakes up on his own, he’ll feel better.
You close your eyes. And again, you fall asleep.
…
Something warm against your forehead wakes you up for a third time. Your eyes open and all you see is skin; Seungmin’s neck, his shoulder. The collar of his shirt is loose enough that you can see the start of his chest.
You pull him closer and push your face into him. He smells good. He smells like sleep and sweat and whatever leftover cologne is still stuck to him from yesterday.
Part of you still wants to keep your guard up. He’ll be gone soon, and then you’ll have to wait and see if his confidence and trust in you remains, and if he’ll really feel comfortable telling you the things he doesn’t tell anyone else.
“I can start,” you say, face still in his chest. You move up toward his neck and set your lips against his skin.
“Start what?”
“After we were together last, in Chicago, and we didn’t…use a condom. I did get a morning after pill, and I took it.”
He pulls you away so he can look at you.
“My period came really late after that, so I thought it didn’t work. And I was really scared. But I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell you because we hadn’t talked very much that week, and you didn’t need that on your mind anyway.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that alone.”
“Everything turned out okay.”
“You can talk to me any time you need to, even if I’ve been quiet.”
You nod, and you really want to believe him.
“Too soon for babies.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear him. He has a little smirk on his face, but he’s avoiding eye contact and staring at the little bit of space between you.
“You want them?”
“Hm?” Now he makes eye contact, and his ears are slowly turning red. “Uhm…yes, I always have. Do you?”
Having kids isn’t something you’ve thought about much (aside from the scare you had in July), because you haven’t met anyone you would want to have kids with. Well, until now, because looking at Seungmin and the sweet smile on his face is making you want them immediately. But you know that’s not possible for him.
“With the right person, yeah.”
“I’m sure someday I’ll be able to do that. Have the time to be there, for both of them. You and baby. I couldn’t be gone all the time and leave you alone.”
He stops for a second. You wonder if he’s even hearing himself speak.
“…Seungmin?”
“It was my turn to tell you something personal.” He brings his hands up to his face and rubs his cheeks, then his eyes. “Just in case I’m the right person.”
The conversation feels like too much, too soon. But you like it. He’s only been open with you like this once before: on your second date, when he admitted to being worried you’d like his friends more than him. You thought that was silly then, and now…you’re not sure you could like anyone more than Seungmin.
“…and if I’m your right person.”
Seungmin smiles and hides his face in the pillow.
———
As the day goes on, you wonder how long he’ll be here with you. Every time he looks at a message on his phone, you assume that will be his cue to get going—to start saying goodbye. But he’s still here, and he seems content.
It was his idea to stay, and he insisted on making breakfast.
“What do you normally do on your days off?” is what he asked as you sat and ate.
So it’s been a regular day off, aside from the fact that Seungmin is also here with you…eating, cleaning, sorting laundry, watching tv, and eventually, catching up with schoolwork.
He sits down next to you on the couch when you open your binder and pull out a stack of papers. He watches quietly as you shuffle though them, putting the pages in order before you start to look them over properly.
He picks the next one up before you get to it. “How old are your students again?”
“They are eight…a few are nine.”
“I don’t remember my English classes being this complicated when I was…older than them.”
“You should see their math homework.”
“Oh, I was very good at math!”
“Yeah?” You look at him, give him your full attention. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.”
“Not even what’s on the internet?” Seungmin leans back against the couch, and pulls you with him.
“I’ve read a few things. But I’m sure you’re a lot more complicated than your fun facts.”
“I hope so.” He grabs you around the waist, “what were you good at in school?”
“English…” you laugh. “And I did pretty good in my German class, and history.”
“Do you speak German, too?” He’s holding you tight, head resting on your shoulder.
“No, I’ve forgotten almost all of that.”
“Why did you come here, to Korea?
You turn yourself to look at him, disturbing his resting head. But he keeps his arms around you.
“So close to Samseong-Dong?”
“I felt like I needed to start over after I graduated college, and this seemed like the perfect way to do it. I actually almost went to Japan.”
“Why didn’t you? Where did you go to college?”
“Northwestern University. And I missed a deadline. Luckily, I already had applications submitted to a few different programs here and nearby.”
“And you chose here?”
Seungmin’s hands wander throughout the entire conversation, stopping when they reach just below where the hem of your shirt hits.
“They chose me.”
“That’s very lucky.” They slide underneath and up your back, “maybe we were meant to meet each other.”
“I’m not sure I believe in things like that.” You move yourself closer to him, until your face is inches from his.
“I don’t either, really. Fate, and soulmates. I’ve been called a…uhm, I don’t remember the English word. A negative person.”
“A pessimist?”
“Yes. Maybe sometimes I am, but…not always. I can be positive. I just like to be realistic.”
“A pragmatist.” You lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Mhm, both of those P words. I did get lucky, though.” He pushes forward, gently coaxing you to your back.
“Was it there before?” You ask. He’s hanging over you, studying your face. “Before Chicago, after I asked if you would date me?“
“Was what there? You mean, did I like you?”
“Yes, but…more than that. Or was it spending the night together?”
“It was before that. That’s why I wanted to spend the night with you.”
You nod, trying hard not to beam up at him. But his hands are on your sides, and his fingertips are moving so delicately over you, you can’t help but smile.
“When was it there for you?”
Your heart starts beating a little faster. You have no answer ready for him except the truth.
“When you gave me Pochacco.”
“On our first date? At the coffee shop?”
You throw your hands over your face and nod, “yeah, at the coffee shop.”
“I felt kind of silly giving him to you, I thought you would think it was silly, too.” He pulls your hands away so he can see your face again.
“It wasn’t.”
“So PuppyM wasn’t silly either?”
“No, I love him. And your denim jacket you left, that’s hanging on my bedpost. I love all of your gifts.”
“Oh, I forgot about that jacket!”Seungmin comes down and settles himself against you, face in your neck, hands wondering more.
“You can have it back, if you want.”
“No, you keep it. But I do need something of yours to keep with me.” His hands slide under your shirt and across your stomach. He tickles your side again, then stops when he reaches your hip.
You’re surprised at his restraint.
“I’m sure I have something for you.” You set your hand over his and slide it up his arm. Then back down.
His fingers twitch and push under your shorts. As ready as you were, and as much as you wanted him to make that move, your breath still catches in your throat.
He props himself up with his other arm and looks at you. His fingers touch lightly over your underwear, taking his time, getting himself where he needs to be.
But you’re not taking your time. And it’s Seungmin touching you, so your body is already on fire. You push your hips up and push his hand harder against you.
His fingers slide up and sneak beneath the fabric. He moves slowly, and he’s watching you carefully, as if you might protest.
But of course you don’t. You grip his arm and slide your hand from his bicep down to his wrist, moving with him as his fingers slip inside of you.
“Am I doing okay?” He leans closer and whispers. He doesn’t wait for an answer before pulling out and sliding back over your clit, making you choke on your answer.
You manage a shaky mhm and Seungmin giggles into your ear. His fingers stay put, making soft circles around you, keeping his touch as delicate as possible. Then he takes them off again, and he pushes back inside.
The reach of is fingers is enough to hit just the right spot, and when you jump from the pressure, he does it again and again until he gets a moan out of you.
You lift your hips into his touch and pull him down for a kiss. Your grip on his arm tightens and he eases up, but barely. His mouth is working its way across your neck now, leaving you free to moan.
“Do you do this a lot?” He says as he nibbles across your ear and cheek. When he gets to your lips, he hangs above you and holds your gaze. His thumb slides over your clit again, like he wanted to remind you of what he was talking about.
“Uhh…hmm?” You slide your hand up and grab a handful of his hair. “Yes.” You laugh and knead your fingertips into his scalp—it makes his eyes roll back. He’s in your neck again, savoring his little massage.
“Do you think about me when you do
it?”
His question sends another wave of pleasure through you. His fingers slip inside again, pressing hard. His thumb is on your clit, wet and sliding easily and hitting everywhere you need it to.
There’s hot, heavy breathing in your ear, and a sweet whisper, “do you think about me, hm?”
“Every time,” your climax hits fast, and Seungmin knows he’s succeeded by the way you’re pulling at his hair.
He holds himself up just enough to watch you squirm beneath him. His touch softens even more as you start to relax, and when you stop and stare up at him, he comes down and kisses across your forehead and down the side of your face. He lets you catch your breath before moving to your lips.
“Really?” Seungmin blushes and tries to stifle his laugh in your neck.
You nod slowly, “that was…very good.”
“Thank you.”
“Too good, maybe.”
“I did some research.”
“You did not.” But when you think about it for a second, it does seem like something Seungmin would do. “Did you?”
“Just a little. In case I’d get to try it out on you someday.”
———
Seungmin looks carefully across your desk, touching the books stacked there, the loose sheets of composition paper, the notes and pencils. He sits in your chair and opens the drawer—inside are a few notebooks, all used and full. He shuffles things around a little, searching every inch.
Now he gets up and moves to your bookshelf. It’s more of a trinket shelf, though. Seungmin only runs his eyes over this, until he catches sight of a snow globe. He picks that up and shakes it. Inside is the Chicago skyline.
He stares at it for a long moment, then returns it to his spot. His attention turns to you, on the bed.
You just smile at him. He keeps looking around.
The next stop is your bedside table. You sit up when he sits down on the edge of the bed, run your hand down his back. As soon as he opens it, he whispers an ooh, and reaches inside.
“What did you find?” You laugh.
“Me,” he holds up three photocards with his face on them.
You take them from him and fall back on the bed, “you”, and look deeply at paper Seungmin.
“Hey, I’m right here…” he pushes your hand away and bends down to kiss you. “Real me.”
The next thing pulled from the drawer is a journal. He looks it over, but doesn’t open it.
“That’s you, too.”
Seungmin points to it, and his head tilts, “this is me?”
“Yeah, almost every page.”
His face goes from confusion to understanding, and then it falls a little.
“You should add one more page.”
“I will.”
The journal goes back in, and then his fingers close around something small. When he pulls it out, it catches the light and throws a reflection across the room.
“Oh, I haven’t worn this since last time.” You sit up and Seungmin hands you the bracelet. It’s only a tiny gold chain, but at the very end of it is a star charm.
“This.” He says, and he watches as you unclasp it, wrap it around his wrist, and close it again.
☾⋆⁺₊⋆
An hour after Seungmin left your house the last time, he sent you a text that just said “I’m home”. That was a first, and it felt like a good omen. But only time would tell. He never really had a good start with keeping in touch.
But he also said goodnight. And then he said good morning. And sometimes he called just to tell you instead of texting.
Actually, this morning, almost two months later, he called early in the morning, when you were still asleep. You caught his name on the lock screen before you picked up, but you still lacked the energy for anything more than a groggy morning Min.
Luckily, he can make up in enthusiasm what you lack some days.
“I’m sorry, you’re still asleep,” he whispers.
“No, it’s okay. I’m just being lazy. What are you up to this morning?” You also caught sight of the time before answering: 10am, way too late for you to sleep in.
“Catching a flight home, from Thailand. Waiting around.” Now you can hear the sleep still lingering in his voice.
“Oh right. I forgot you were there…I did see some photos. You looked very handsome in your safety glasses.”
“Thank you,” he laughs. “I was calling to…uhm, say good morning, and also to see if you would be home tonight.”
“Minnie, I’m always home.”
“That’s true, but it would still be rude to just show up unannounced.”
“I give you permission to show up unannounced.”
“Can I have a key, too? Oh, that reminds me…uuh, well, actually I’ll just talk to you about it later.”
“Okay, don’t forget. And yes you can have a key.”
———
This is the first time you’re not nervous about Seungmin coming over. Well, not as nervous as you typically would be. You’re still a little on edge—a little worried about how you look and about how your food is going to taste.
He didn’t mention anything about coming over hungry, but you’re taking the initiative anyway. If anything, he’ll have something to take home with him.
A soft knock at the door. You know his soft, steady knock, and you never have any other visitors, so it’s him. But for some reason you stand there stupidly, not moving, not saying anything, because you know it’s really him on the other side of your door.
Finally, after a few seconds, you take a breath. “It’s open.”
The door swings open.
“Hi,” Seungmin closes it quietly, takes off his shoes and looks at you from across the room. “It smells very good in here.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten so…”
“No, nothing since lunch.” He takes a few long strides toward you. Big blue sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, a big smile. “So I’m very hungry,” he embraces you and squeezes you tight against his chest. “How have you been?” He relaxes, but he doesn’t let you free.
“I’ve been okay...I’ve been good.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t visit around Christmas—oh!” He bends down and kisses you.
He kisses for a long time—long enough that you think you might end up in bed before you even eat dinner. But he slows down, and then releases you.
“Happy new year! A little late.” He comes down again for one more kiss, and then makes his way to the kitchen. “What did you make? Something American? It smells like something American.”
“Yes. It’s very American.”
“Should we eat first, or talk?”
“I’m sure we can manage both.”
———
The two of you stare at each other from across your tiny kitchen table. Seungmin sips his tea. You just watch and wait, because this is his conversation.
“Do you want me to start? Something about you having a key to my apartment?”
“Ah, yeah. Yes, I should have a key, but I was thinking of a different apartment.”
“Oh, like yours? No, you don’t have an apartment. Or do you?” You lean a little closer, “secret apartment?”
“No, no secret apartment,” he laughs. “But I thought it would be nice if you lived closer. Closer to the city, and closer to me.”
“That would be nice, but I’m not sure something closer is in my budget.”
“I know,” Seungmin smiles—there’s always something so clever and knowing about his smile. “I figured you might say that. I could help.”
“You want to help me with rent? Expensive rent. That’s kind of serious.”
“I do! It is serious. I am serious.”
“You are?” You sit back in your chair and study his face. He’s still smiling and nodding at you.
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it for…almost two months. And I found somewhere I think would fit very well.”
“Closer to you?”
“Much closer. I could walk to you.”
You’re thinking, but you’re not really thinking. The obvious answer to this is yes, even though it’s hard to just come out and say it. The idea of someone else helping with rent, or helping with anything, is foreign to you. “I would like to be closer to you.”
Seungmin looks at his phone, pulls something up on it, and then slides it to you across the table. “How is something like this?”
You trust Seungmin’s taste and judgement, but you still want to look it over thoroughly. Distance, yes, but also the size, the layout. And you do not have enough windows in this apartment. You’d like more windows. If he’s as serious as he looks, it might as well be worth whatever money you’re both going to put into it.
“How about this one?” You pull up a different listing.
He looks it over, “still very close. Oh, two bedrooms. Maybe the extra space would be nice.”
“It is a little more, sorry (Seungmin shakes his head when you say that), but it has a bathtub instead of just a walk-in shower. And it’s own laundry.”
He laughs, “I could do my laundry faster if I bring it with me. And the kitchen is nicer.”
“I miss having a bathtub.” You hand him his phone back. “But are you sure this isn’t too much? I know you said you were serious—“
“I am…I want you to know that I’m very serious. I think this is a good way to show you. And it’s also very practical.”
“You seemed so unsure before. I just want you to be…good. I want both of us to be good.”
“I’m very good.”
“This is a little crazy, isn’t it? All of this.”
“Yes, it is. I’ll call about it tomorrow.”
“No, I can. Let me do that, at least.”
———
“Minnie?”
Mmhm?
You sat on the couch after dinner, and it didn’t take much time before he had you on your back. He lifts your shirt as far as this position will allow, letting his fingers dance over you—making you squirm a little from how soft his touch is.
Forming the words you want to say is much harder than you thought. They’re dancing around in your head; you’re moving them back and forth, but every way it comes together feels like too much or not enough. Maybe right now just isn’t he time.
“What’s wrong?”
You pull your shorts down, open your legs for him, then shake your head. “Nothing.”
Seungmin reaches down and feels you, slips his fingers inside, then slowly pulls them back out. He smiles against your mouth and pushes in again, just to feel how wet you are. “Are we okay here…are you comfortable?” He asks sweetly. His fingers are still inside, moving delicately.
You nod, but suddenly you remember that you are not good, and you’re not ready. “Shit, no we’re not good. We need a condom this time.”
“Oh right, we should be safe. Tell me where they are,” he adjusts his sweatpants and very carefully lifts himself off of you.”
“In my black bag, under my bed.”
You listen as he slides it out and digs around. The contents of that bag are a mystery, but the condoms you bought back in Chicago, both boxes, have to be in there still. You’re not that bad at unpacking, but if it’s something you don’t use, you’re definitely going to forget I’m about it under there forever.
When he comes back in, he has one in each hand.
“I’m….not sure which one is for me.” His voice seems a little dejected. He’s looking down at them as he approaches you.
“Oh Minnie, they were both for you. I bought these a while ago, when I didn’t know which would fit you better.”
“Oh,” he finally makes eyes contact again. His face softens a little. “Sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s okay, come here.” You spread your legs again and wait for him, “I’ll put it on for you.”
He crawls back onto the couch, settles between your legs, and opens both hands, palms up, in front of you.
You take the right one and rip it open. Seungmin looks like his mind is suddenly full. His eyes are big and soft.
“Min, what’s on your mind?”
His hands are already on his sweatpants, pulling them down his hips.
“You are.”
You touch him, slide your fingertips down, and then back up. The condom goes on easily. “Does it feel okay?”
He nods and adjusts, makes himself comfortable, and lifts your legs until he has more room. He pushes in a halfway, then leans over until you’re almost nose to nose.
“Minnie?”
“Hmm?” He sets his forehead against yours.
“There’s only you.”
“Just me?” He pushes his nose into yours, “only me?” Pecks at your lips.
“Just us.”
“Only us.” Seungmin pushes the rest of the way in, waits a moment, then begins to fuck you slowly and deeply, “you’re all mine.” He whispers in your ear as he drags his lips over it.
It takes you a second to pull yourself together. Each thrust sends you upward and knocks the breath out of you, but you manage a nod.
“Tell me,” he quickens his pace. The couch shakes the end table, and you can hear the clatter of things falling to the floor. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
It comes out shaky, and it’s not good enough for you. But Seungmin is still smiling. You try again
“I’m yours,” you grab the back of his neck and hold him still, “I only love you.” Your hand grabs hair and pulls—lips close on his before he has a chance to speak.
But he sighs into the kiss. He slows down, and it feels like he’s melting into you more and more with each thrust. What little skin is exposed between the two of you slides together, damp with sweat, and Seungmin kisses every part of you he can get to in the position he’s in.
He tries to get rid of your shirt, but he can’t stop, and he has to stop to make any progress—so you clumsily lift it, and your bra, until you’re free.
His hand slides up your ribs and his fingers graze over you, but for now he just watches how he’s making your body move under him. He seems hypnotized, but eventually he blinks, and then his eyes are fixed on yours again.
The room is quiet—no ambient noise from the tv, no music, nothing. The only sounds are the heavy breaths and soft moans you’re sharing. The condom is slowing him down, keeping him here much longer, and everything feels good in this position; good enough that you’d be satisfied staying like this as long he needs it.
He made you come last time, and now you want to do the same for him.
You lift him off of you until you can see him better.
He looks you in the eyes again, satisfied and smiling. “You feel so good,” he’s back down again, mouth on your chest, kissing down until he can close his lips around your nipple. He licks and works his way back up, stopping at your throat and staying there, his warm breath hitting you. “You love me?”
Your heart jumps. It was already racing, but now you feel it everywhere. In your throat, your chest, your head. You don’t think you’ve ever told anyone that before; not so soon. It’s been a year, but tonight is only the sixth time you’ve seen him and touched him. Everything else has been texts, phone calls, video calls.
It doesn’t matter. You said it because it felt right, and it still feels right.
“Yes.”
Seungmin slows his pace. His exhales turns into a string of soft, dulcet moans. He lifts himself upright and holds your hips as he rolls into you. He comes quietly. You wouldn’t have even realized if you weren’t looking right him.
The satisfied look on his face makes your stomach swirl. You watch Seungmin smile before your eyes close, and you can hear him whisper something to you while you’re coming down from your own high.
He pulls out and carefully brings your legs together.
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything, love.” He sits you up next to him and pulls your t-shirt over your head, “I was just…” he pulls you close, “nothing, it’s not important right now.”
“Will you stay here tonight?”
“Yes, I’ll stay.”
———
It’s been a long six weeks. You’re a little stressed out, but you’ve been holding yourself together very well, you think.
This apartment has been your only home for more than three years, so packing your things up and preparing to leave has been a little bit emotional. Almost everything is out of here and all that’s left are a few things you’re taking along on the last car ride.
Before this, everything was moving in slow motion and it was killing you. Now, it won’t slow down. You’re happy, and you’re grateful for everything that Seungmin has done for you…and it’s still sometimes hard to believe he’s doing it all just for you. But it’s so much all at once.
He told you he would stay tonight—your first night there. You haven’t received a text telling you otherwise, so you’re hoping he will be there when you arrive. You do have to remember that you’ll be there alone most of the time, though.
Some things will remain the same.
———
The elevator ride up is long, and you think back to you and Seungmin—your first date, bringing him home with you to your 5th floor apartment, thirty minutes out of the way, just to have him to yourself.
That was probably a good indication that he liked you. You just didn't realize it at the time.
You finally stop at the 17th floor.
The original apartment you looked at was unavailable when you called the next morning, so Seungmin insisted on taking everything into his own hands while you were at work. He knew what you were looking for, but he went overboard.
This apartment has the windows, the bathtub, and laundry room, but it also has double the space—and three bedrooms. When you asked what you were supposed to do with all of the extra room, Seungmin shrugged and said we’ll figure something out.
You don’t even own enough to fill up half of it. Everything that required any sort of muscle; the bed, the living room furniture, it all stayed behind. Most of the things in this apartment are new, or they will be new.
Before you have a chance to explore any further than the kitchen, you hear a very faint, soft knock on the door. You know it’s him and you run to open it, but he punches in a code on the doorknob, turns it, and peeks in before you get there.
“I tried to beat you here.” He smiles.
“You almost did.“
He closes the space between you and pulls you into a hug. “How was your day? Did the movers get everything here?”
“It was alright, and…I think so, but I haven’t gotten any further than this.”
“Just alright? I know it’s been a lot lately.”
“I’m better now that I’m here, and you’re here.” You take his face in your hands and squeeze his cheeks, “let me see, smile.”
Seungmin smiles widely and dramatically, and then bends down to kiss you. “How do I look?”
You pull him back for another one, “still handsome.”
He picks up the bags he walked in with and sets them on the kitchen chair. “I brought us dinner, and a few things to make you feel more at home.” Seungmin is pulling the food out of the bag, piece by piece. “So you didn’t see the bedroom yet?”
“Not yet, why?”
He shakes his head and smiles, “we’ll see it later.”
“What did you bring me?”
“Oh, let’s see!” He starts digging in the other bag.
You watch as he carefully places an assortment of things along side the food. There’s a candle, two candles, a small picture frame, but you can’t see the photo from where you’re standing. A stuffed dog. Another stuffed dog. One of them is Pochacco, the other is a mystery, but he does look familiar.
“That’s all for now but I do have more stuff to bring.”
“Well, we have plenty of space to fill.”
He beams at you, grabs one of the stuffed dogs, and pulls you against him. “This wasn’t mine, but I have one just like it.”
“I like him, he looks like you.”
Seungmin laughs and looks at Daengmo, “yes, he kind of does.”
———
When the sun goes down, and you’re both full and relaxing, you begin to feel even more nostalgic for the conversations you had and the memories you made with him at your old place, on your old couch. You have to work on new memories now.
He’s facing you on the new couch, eyes closed, slow, steady breaths. The flicker of the tv is hitting his face, making his cheek and the soft brown of his hair glow.
Very slowly, you reach your foot out and touch his.
Seungmin’s eyes open, and he gives you a sleepy smile, “how was dinner?”
“Good.” You sit up and move closer to him, “we should go to bed while you’re still sleepy.”
He groans and shrugs his shoulders.
“We gotta go see the bedroom, remember?” You grab his hand and pull a little, and he immediately gives in.
The bedroom is warm and cozy, like it’s already been lived in. You know Seungmin came in at some point and made it this way; the curtains are pulled, the soft amber lights are clicked on, and one of the candles he brought is lit on the bedside table. Both of the stuffed dogs he brought, and your PuppyM, are already laying on top of the pillows.
The bed is made, but not too made. The blankets are loose and fluffed up, ready to crawl into.
“How does it look?” He sounds a little more awake now.
“It looks perfect, come on.”
He shakes his head, “If we don’t brush our teeth now, we will never get back up to do it.” He smiles and kisses you softly.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
———
The lights are off, the candle is out. Seungmin is facing you in bed.
“Are you awake? Did you lose your sleepy?”
“A little.”
He scoots closer until his arm can drape over you. The bedroom is bigger, and the bed is bigger, too. You’re sharing one side just to be close to each other.
“It will come back soon.”
You set your forehead against his chest and feel it move steadily with each breath. It's quiet for a long time, and now sleep is really escaping you. You should be able to relax like this; you’ve shared a bed with him a few times before, and you haven’t slept as well since. And you’re tired—too tired. Maybe too exhausted for sleep.
You wonder if he’s awake, or if he’s quiet because he thinks you’ve finally drifted off.
You run your hand gently over his arm, waiting for a reaction. At first, he doesn’t make a move or a sound, but when you slide your hand back up, he moves his leg against yours.
“Can’t sleep?” He whispers
“Did I wake you?”
“You didn’t.”
“Then no, I can’t sleep.” You prop yourself up on one arm and look down at him. It’s dark, but you can just make out the details of his face.
He flips onto his back and pulls the covers away. “Are you uncomfortable?” Seungmin asks and places his hand on your cheek. He’s warm, his eyes are warm. His mouth parts slowly and turns into a smile. It’s a tired smile. “New bed.”
“New everything.”
“Except for me.”
Your hand closes around his, then you turn your head to place a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “Thank you for being here. I know you’re on a tight schedule.”
Seungmin pulls you down on top of him. His face is in your neck, kissing playfully and lazily, but the way his hands are exploring you is anything but lazy.
“You’re cold,” he stops, wraps his arms around your waist, and holds you there. “You need to be warmed up.”
You get your hands underneath his shirt, “you’re warm enough for both of us.”
“I can share.”
“Can I ask you something stupid?”
“Yes, I would love that,” he laughs softly and disappears in your neck again.
The stupid question bounces around in your head. His warm lips on you are starting to make your head fuzzy, and you wonder if you should just forget it. But now he’ll get it out of you somehow.
“Will you sing for me?”
He pulls back to look at you. Seungmin’s face lights up. It could light up the entire room. “You want me to sing for you?” If he was sleepy at all before, he’s not now. You’ve managed to wake him the rest of the way with a simple, stupid, request. But it wasn’t stupid at all.
“I always have, it just never seemed like a good time.”
“Right now? Should I sing now? Maybe it’s too quiet, and the walls might not be very thick.”
“In the morning?”
He nods, “yes, I’ll sing for you in the morning. What should I sing?”
“Surprise me.”
“We talked about singing together before, remember?”
“I remember,” you wrap around him and pull the covers back up in an attempt to get him sleepy again. “But I’d rather just hear you.”
☾⋆⁺₊⋆
#kim seungmin#kim seungmin x reader#kim seungmin x you#kim seungmin x y/n#seungmin x reader#seungmin x y/n#seungmin x you#skz seungmin#seungmin smut#seungmin fluff#kim seungmin fluff#kim seungmin smut#skz fluff#skz fanfic#stray kids fluff#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfic
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Bad day.
Tw; Mentions of murder, grief and spoilers I guess. Mentioned top!male!reader
Please do not copy or steal my work.
Sano “Mikey” Manjirou/gang!member!Male!Reader
Summary; Mikey’s dark impulse almost comes out. Luckily for everyone, you are there to calm the beast.
~~~~~~
You sat behind Manjiro, watching the meeting over his shoulder. It was going nowhere. Your boyfriend and his captains were stuck in an endless cycle of yes, no, maybe. And Manjiro’s patience was running lower by the second. You could see it by how tensed his shoulders were and quiet he was.
Everyone could see how displeased Mikey was. Over his shoulder, you had a good sight on their expression; they were terrified. With good reason. Mikey could kill a man in a heartbeat if he wanted, with no warning or sign. Just like he could beat the poor fucker to a bloody mess for the littlest thing.
Apparently, Manjiro use to be different. Calmer, more in control of his Dark Impulse. Before the death of his sister, best friend and so many more. The last straw has been when a named Takemichi had left. You ignored why, Manjiro refused to speak about it. But sometimes, you would wake up to him calling for his friend while tears would roll down his cheeks.
You never said anything, thinking Mikey would talk when ready. The only thing you could do was offer your shoulder and cuddle him. Or fuck him until he forgot everything, but you.
Licking your lips, your gaze turned toward Mikey's neck. You could still see the love bite you left there last night surrounding his tattoo. You wished you could simply get up and give him more while giving his shoulders a good massage. Maybe get him to sit on your lap so you could kiss them instead. You knew he loved it when you two took a bath before going to bed.
You were kicked out of your fantasy when his whole demeanour switched. You saw all his muscles tensing in a second as he raised his head higher. The whole aura changed in the room, feeling as if the temperature dropped below freezing. Not literally, of course. But you did get chills running through your whole body.
You weren't the only one noticing the change. All the captains fell silent, all their colour draining off their faces and fear filled their eyes. What had been said, you ignored it, but one thing was sure; it has turned Mikey’s Dark Impulse on. And like a ticking bomb, it could explode at any second.
Sighing, you got up. All eyes, except Mikey’s, turned on you. Half we're hopeful, the rest scared for your well-being.
You walked behind Mikey and rested your hands on his shoulders. You felt them instantly relax under the contact. Bending over his right side, you kissed his temple.
- “Easy Mikey. You have good, competent captains, so don't go around blasting their brains on the walls okay?” you said, lips still pressed against his skin.
- “You weren't listening right, Y/n?” he asked, voice empty.
- “Sorry Mikey. I spaced out before the gorgeous view I had.” you smiled, knowing he might be blushing. “Might have been making plans for tonight too, for us. So please, no shooting, no beating. I know it's frustrating, but it won't change anything.” you added and Mikey said nothing, but you felt him relax completely. “Let’s take a pause, just an hour or two. Let the boys get some food and air, might help. What do you think?”
For only answer, Manjiro dismissed everyone with a simple waving of his hand. Without a word, they all left the room almost running. Chuckling, you grabbed a chair and sat by Manjiro’s side. His eyes were empty and dark, but there was no sign of his Dark Impulse. Taking his hand in your, you rubbed small circles on his skin.
- “Something is wrong, I can see it. What's going on love?” you asked, and when no answer came you asked another one; “What can I do?”
Mikey turned his eyes on you. For a second you thought he would remain quiet, but no.
- “Could you hold me? I'll like to listen to your heart.”
You simply opened your arms wildly, inviting him to do just that. You wrapped them around his little frame once Mikey was comfortable on your lap. Resting your chin on the top of his head, you closed your eyes.
- “You know I am here if you need to talk. Whatever is on your mind or heart, I will listen.” you said softly.
- “Just a bad day. Angry just...” he sighed and hid his face against your chest. “Today is Emma... It's...” you heard his voice crack and hugged him closer.
- “Hush, it's alright. Mikey, if you need to cry, then cry. Let it go, love, you have the right to. I'm sorry, I didn't know.”
Mikey gave no answer, but you felt his shoulders shake as he cried silently in your arms. You rarely saw your boyfriend cry. Sometimes after a nightmare, or coming out of his Dark Impulse after killing someone.
You also felt like an idiot.
You should have seen the signs.
When the Captains returned, they said nothing seeing their President sitting on your lap, your head resting on his shoulder as he played with your hair. And if Mikey’s hair looked wild or if he had a new set of love bites on his neck, and if you too had your share of them just now showing, they said nothing.
The tension had left the room, it was easier to breathe and focus. For the next hours, you listened to them deciding if they should start a war against a rival gang, and so on.
And for the rest of the meeting, Mikey’s Dark Impulse never made another appearance.
#male reader#x male reader#tokyo revengers x male reader#mikey x male reader#top male reader#sano manjiro x male reader
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Be Paw-Sitive
Mattheo Riddle x Reader
Inspired by @rilakeila's work
Summary: You are an animagus who can turn into a cat. But one morning, you wake up to an unpleasant surprise.
You were majorly screwed.
How were you supposed to go to classes like this?!
Seem like your private lessons with Professor McGonagall didn't pay off as well as you thought.
Now, here you were stuck with a pair of ears and a tail!
You must have tried to turn in your sleep and somehow got halfway stuck. That wouldn't be the issue. The issue was that no matter what you tried, you couldn't make them go away.
And your first class was with Snape... great.
No student knew about your abilities. Some professors knew but that's all.
You wanted to call in sick, pretending you were ill, but you also knew no one would believe you.
One last attempt you turned fully into a feline before turning back but the ears and tail were still there. You knew you had to go to class. You knew you couldn't reveal your secret.
You let out a sigh before grabbing your robe to hide your tail and a hat for your head. You thanked the winter at least it will be passable on the hallways, maybe not inside the class but you will deal with that later...
"Miss Y/L/N... I thought you were aware that it is rude to wear a hat inside my class."
Of course, Snape couldn't just let it pass, but you were a great actress.
"Of course, Professor, I got ill last night and I am shivering as it is, if you could allow me please to keep it on, I learned so much for today's test, I didn't want to miss it." Snape gave you a look but let it pass. Just this once.
After class when everyone left, you stayed behind.
"Professor, I do apologise for the hat."
"You are not sick." his voice was so monotone.
"No. I woke up this morning and..." you took off your hat and showed him your ears. "And I also have a tail..."
"I'll talk with Minerva. See if she can help, for now go to your next class." you smiled and turned to leave.
You always liked Snape. There was something about him, something behind his eyes, he was hiding his kindness and you saw that.
Your day went on quite well, pretending to be sick so you could keep your hat on. Professor McGonagall unfortunately, had no idea how to change you back, she said she will read some books and get back to you as soon as possible.
Later that day, you sat defeated in a hallway. It was rather quiet since no one really used that hallway.
You let out a long sigh before trying to return to your book.
"Here you are. I have been looking for you." came a voice and as you looked up, you saw Mattheo walking over to you. "Here." he handed you a small brown bag and you looked at him confused. "Take it, it's not going to explode!" Mattheo and you barely spoke before. He was a friend of yours, you would say.
You took the bag and opened it, only to find medicine in there.
"The lady at the store said these are the best for a cold." he explained as you looked back up at him. "You said during many classes today that you feel ill."
Was he worried about you?
"Thank you!" you yelled after him as he walked away. He raised one of his hands to wave goodbye.
You felt your heart swell.
You might have just developed a crush on Mattheo Riddle...
---
Two days later and you had the same issue.
The professors had no idea how to help you and every possibility you tried out failed.
Dumbledor decided to officially give you an exemption from classes for the time being. He respected your decision that you didn't want to share your secret with the students.
Everyone was told that you were sick.
You truly didn't like lying to others, especially your friends, but you were also not ready to share that you are an animagus.
There was a sudden knock on your door.
"O-One moment!" you yelled, getting into bed and covering your head with your hoodie. "Come in!"
It was Mattheo, the last person you expected.
"Hi." he said as he closed the door behind himself.
"Hello."
"How are you feeling?"
"Oh, I'm a little better thank you." you smiled as he looked around your room.
He noticed the books scattered around the place. Everything looked and smelled like you.
"What's this?" he said as he walked over to your table, finding the bag he gave you days ago. "Y-You didn't take the meds I gave you?"
"Um..." but you saw him rolling his eyes.
"Are you serious? I thought you were different from the others! You could have told me, I know I am the Dark Lord's son! But I am not like him!"
"What?" you asked, confused.
"For fucks sake! You didn't take these because you hate me just like the others right?!" he yelled before running towards the door but you were also fast. You grabbed his arm and turned him towards you. He was angry.
"I-that's not why. I don't hate you." you said but he rolled his eyes.
"You don't even look sick. Did you lie to the teachers?!" he asked as he looked at your face.
The hatred in his eyes made you scared. Scared that you will lose him.
"I didn't."
"What is going on here?"
"I can't tell you and please stop yelling."
"I yell if I want to Y/N! You made me worry for you that you were sick! I got you medicine and now two days later I find out that you didn't even take them! Is this because I'm a Riddle?! Why did you lie?!"
"I didn't... I can't tell you."
"Can't tell me?! Y/N, I thought you were better than that. I thought you could see beyond a last name, not like the others. Looks I was wrong." he moved to get to the door but you stood in his way, leaning against the door, not letting him out. "Move out of my way." but you shook your head, no. "MOVE!" he yelled louder than before and it really irritated your ears. You covered your face as you slid down against the door, tears running down your face.
"I don't hate you, please don't hate me." is what you said but he yelled again, this time it was your name. And just like that, you were gone.
Mattheo's eyes nearly fell out of his head as he now saw a cat where you were previously. The cat ran under the bed and Mattheo stood there, frozen.
His brain tried to function but he just couldn't move or think.
Took him a good minute before he knelt down on the floor and looked under the bed.
"Come out please." he said with such a soft voice, it even surprised him. He tried to reach under the bed but you moved away, out of his reach. "Come on, Y/N." but you didn't budge. He let out a sigh. "I don't hate you. I really don't. I was just angry, I'm sorry for yelling. I really like you, Y/N. So, my mind went into a spiral when I thought you hated me, but I get it now, please come out." but you didn't move.
Mattheo moved to sit on the bed, deciding to give you time and space.
You moved from under the bed. Getting out and looking at him as he kept on staring at the wall. You didn't turn back, deciding to stay as a feline for now.
You jumped up on the bed and this is when he noticed you. You sat with your tail moving around you, you were thinking as well.
"I didn't know you were an animagus. I guess no one else knows." you shook your head, no. "Do the professors know?" you nodded, yes. "Ah, makes sense. You are a really cute cat you know. You look very fluffy and... sorry." He tried to reach over possibly to pet you but stopped. Still sitting on the bed, you took a deep breath before turning back.
"Please don't tell the others. They would tease and bully me." you begged as you moved closer to him. "I didn't go to classes because I can't make my tail and ears disappear," you said pointing at your head. "I'm sorry for lying. I never expected you to buy me medicine." he nodded.
"I won't tell anyone."
"I really like you too, Mattheo. I felt really bad for lying, but you understand why I couldn't tell you." he nodded before he looked at you, smiling a little.
"Your eyes are also... um... cat-like?" you let out a long sigh.
"Professor McGonagall said it is normal for a young animagus to have certain characteristics like that. Eyes are normal but ears and tail... not so much."
"I think it's cute." he reached up, touching the ears on top of your head. "Would you purr if I scratched here?"
"No, I bite."
"You are not a nice kitty then." he smirked and you smiled.
"I don't plan on being one." you played along with him and it made him smile. "I am a very bad kitty especially when someone who isn't my boyfriend touches me."
"Oh, you have a boyfriend now?"
"I do."
"Lucky fella."
"Yeah, he brings me medicine when I'm sick but he is rather bothered by his last name."
"I'm not! People are." you smiled as you moved even closer to him, and he moved his arm around you. "I'll try and get you some notes from classes." his hand ran up and down your back, it found your tail as he flinched away a little but you moved it back to his hand.
"Next time, please don't yell at me. I hate it when people argue and my hearing is sensitive."
"Sorry, Darling." a comfortable silence filled the room. "I'm glad you are not sick at least. I was rather worried."
"I still have a tail and ears..."
"They are at least cute." you looked at him before moving your head to his neck.
"You are cute." you said as you yawned a little.
"So... should I leave before your boyfriend comes back?"
"He is a big scary Slytherin so... you might want to." you smiled as you moved back to sit.
"As soon as your ears have disappeared, I will take you on a date."
"We don't have to wait! I can wear my hat!" you smiled as he watched your eyes shine. He gave you a nod before you jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom.
"Kitten, take it slow please, I still have a class."
"Oh... will you skip?"
"I mean it is... of course I will." you smiled and resumed brushing your hair.
You were really excited about this new chapter in your life.
A boyfriend who accepts you and didn't judge you for being an animagus.
Part 2 SMUT
Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS
#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle imagines#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x female reader#mattheo riddle x fem!reader#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fanfic#harry potter imagine#harry potter imagines#mattheo riddle fanfic#mattheo riddle fanfiction#animagus reader
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here we go again - pt.2
pt.1, pt.3
jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader
empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again.
but, a familair face is here to save the day
word count - 2.2k+
watch it - jude is still an ass sorrehhh. angsy angst and more angst ! ur welcome
-----
You don't know where the hell you are, what time it is. A few more minutes you're going to forget your own name and start screaming to feel something other than misery. So much for the holiday of love. You are feeling so much love you could jump out of a plane. With no parachute. And land on a pile of rocks.
You kick a trash can out of frustration and groan at the impact it gives your poor exposed and suffering toes.
You can not believe the events of today. Everything keeps replaying over and over like a broken projector. The fact that he got you to dress up in your favorite special occasion floor length dress just to have it drag across the grimy dirty fucking disgusting club floor. Oh god you want him dead.
You're deep into Birmingham nightlife by the time your senses come back to you enough to fish your phone out of your bag. The bag is a birthday gift from your mother of all people forced to be seen among that bunch of people,it makes you seeth.
You should have known taking you to Birmingham wasn't a good idea. It made no sense in your head, why fly from Madrid to god damn Birmingham. You both live and work in Madrid? Your sweet naive mind thought he came up with something unique, something sweet.
You groan the second your phone turns on. One too many notifications to keep up with and by the looks of it they aren't stopping anytime soon. Twitter is blowing up, you already know what it is. A bunch of low quality pixels of you entering with him and looking lost with a bunch of tacky headlines. You'll get that settled when you get home. You go to order an uber, but your phone manages to die on you miraculously. How lucky. All the times you spent trying to get a hold of Jude really drained the battery. You clench your jaw.
Good god. You shove your phone back in your purse and keep stomping through birmingham. Shivering with each step. You didn't bring a jacket, how foolish.
You try to follow streets you think you know, but it's not going very well. There aren't very many people this far out. Leave it to fucking Jude to take you to the worlds more obscure club location. It's been about an hour since you left him at the club you think. An hour of walking through alley ways and neighborhoods that only raise the hair on the back of your neck. He couldn't even get you a ride home?
You think the last person you saw was a nurse chucking coffee at a bus station, the bus that you tried to catch but it sped away faster than your aching legs could take you. Better night than yours you're sure. You wander about trying to find at least a store open to be able to call for a taxi.
You hear the crunch of slowing tires come up behind you, and you instantly quicken up your pace. You almost swear you hear your name shouted, but you don't stop. The second time, it's a little too clear to be mistaken for anyone else's name as the car comes to a crawl side by side to you.
You turn on your heel harshly, “why in god's name-“ your voice dies the moment you recognize the familiar car model, and its driver. Trent. Oh.
“Get in the car." he dead pans, windows rolled at the way down, door already unlocked for you.
You wrinkle your nose, “I don't want to talk trent."
The very last thing you need is that sorry excuse of a man to send his friend of all people to run after you and do his bidding where he fell short just hours before. This is so embarrassing it only makes you wish his car would explode. And then drive it into the club. While it's on fire.
“I'm not letting you roam around these parts at this time, just get in." he sighs.
You scowl, "he’s low for sending you to change my mind, after this whole fucking night why cant you leave me alone."
He gives you a look, “this has nothing to do with him, this is me. Worried for you. “
“Fuck off." you spit.
“You’re so hard headed, just get in the damn car before someone robs you. Or worse."
"How'd you even know I was here?" you squint at him.
he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "i still have your location from when i picked you up for his birthday. And I heard about everything from just about everyone. "
"You have nothing else to do on valentines day?" you jab.
He stays silent, hands wringing the steering wheel. You notice he's in what looks like pjs, Liverpool jacket thrown on top. He drove all this way for you?
You swallow your pride for a moment, hiking up your dress while you duck inside the car. Sighing in relief as the pressure is taken off your aching legs. Snapping your seatbelt over you, swinging your purse over your head and gently setting it on your lap, wiping away the tears that blur your vision.
Your rage has turned into a simmer for now. The main goal at the moment is to just get out of these clothes and sleep till you forget what year it is.
Trent is quiet while he lets you get comfortable, rolling up his windows backup and locking the doors. You've never sat passenger in his car before. Hell you haven't seen him in months.
“Did he touch you." he asks, turning the heater on higher.
You put your hand out in front of where the hot air blows oh so nice on your frozen hands,“What?”
“You have a bruise on the back of your arm. Did he do that? “
“No.” you sigh.
he turns to face you, brows furrowed,“i need to know if he did. “
“He didn’t trent, i'm alright.'' your voice softens.
he nods, hands resting on the wheel,“where do you need to go? “
“Just take me to my hotel please."
He nods, handing you his phones to put the directions in. You watch as he takes the car out of park, making a u turn and heading out of whatever bizarre neighborhood you're in, back into the city. And soon the freeway. Birmingham flashes by you and you try to forget the man that sits like a heavy weight in your mind.
You still wonder why Trent would make the trip all the way out just to pick you up. especially if Jude wasn't involved. You're somewhat close you suppose. The kind where you would call him a friend in a group setting, but not much more. You've spent only a couple of times truly alone. You don't know if you're that close.
Trent has always been somewhat of a mystery to you. Few appearances and even fewer words. Jude had told you once he was shy, just taking a minute to warm up to new people. He has a habit of staring off into nothing you noticed at Judes birthday party. Always quick to snap out of it the moment eyes were on him. Oh so different from the way he plays. You've seen him now and again in highlights and clips posted on instagram. He's good, but man is he aggressive. You expect it for a defender but the man gets up in everyones space on the pitch.
A complete 180 from the way he can barely look you in the eye now. What is he thinking?
You don't let your curiosity blind you from being at least a little courteous.
“Thank you, " you mumble, playing with the fabric of your dress, "and sorry for being a bitch.“
“Hey I don’t blame you.” he shrugs.
You hum and leave it at that. You'll put unraveling Trent on the to do list.
Your hotel comes into view and you thank him again for the kindness, promising to make it up to him some day. He waves you off, seeing till you're inside to leave.
Your mind is so blurred you can barely stand anymore, every step only throws you off balance. You need your bed. Asap. Or you will fall over and die.
The hotel's heating is a welcome treat as you beeline for the elevator. The staff give you a strange look but you do NOT. have the time for any of that. Right now all you care about is getting in bed. Can this elevator hurry up? It finally comes and you lean against the metal walls when you step inside, sliding your purse lazily over you.
You all but tear your clothes off the second you make it inside your room, in a rush, wiping your makeup off while you undo your shoes, hobbling around with one foot while you dig for your pajamas. You end the night with a trip to the bathroom. Skipping on your usual night routine and just settling for a quick shower and brush of the teeth.
Hotel covers have never felt better, warmer, safer.
In the quiet of the room and the hum of the ac, you can't but let your thoughts consume you. Can't help but circle back to him. Why?
Why weren't you enough? Why did it have to end in fucking flames on whats supposed to be the most romantic love filled day of the year.
You think back of every moment and piece of you shared with Jude. You remember the first time you kissed you, under the stands at his first madrid home game, clutching onto his jersey like a lifeline. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Gently holding your hand all the way back inside the building. Mumbling confessions and making you smile with every cheesy pick up line.
That jude is gone now, instead replaced by the man who you have to fight for even a second with. But are expected to drop all for. A selfish bitter man.
It doesn't matter anymore. It's over, you can rest now and deal with the inevitable fall out as it comes. You know you're more than enough, but with the way you let yourself be treated it's hard to let yourself believe that.
Never again though. From now, you're swearing off footballers.
—--
You wake up as early as you can manage, getting all your things together and booking a flight out of here as soon as possible. You need to get back to madrid.
Your headache is massive as you shove the last of your things in your suitcase. You can't believe you took days off for this. Nonetheless, you need to get back. You have a team to get back to and plenty of work to get done. Real Madrid's creative department never rests does it.
Your phone has a slew of missed calls, mainly from Jude but you see a few from Trent, rather recent ones. You give him a call back but it all goes to voicemail.
The key card jams while you're locking it for the last time, it takes a hit from your hand to get the scanner working but you make it out in one piece. Smoothing your clothes down and making your way to the lobby. Sitting down for a few minutes while you confirm your flight details and triple check that you haven't forgotten anything. You hear your name and are greeted again by Trent, who's all but spriting to you. It's a little early for him to be here now isn't it.
“Can I help you ?”
“I'm sorry I tried calling and I couldn't answer when you called. Judes outside waiting for you. he-“
So last night really was all just a ploy from Judes end? You try to get up and far far away from him, but he stands in front of you.
“Listen. He told me to come and get you out there so you can talk to him and to not tell you. But obviously, I'm not. i’ll tell him you're not here yeah? Take care.”
Trent doesn't leave you with anything else, leaving in the other direction. You take this as a sign to leave while you can, grabbing one of the many taxis outside to the airport.
—--
Trent gives Jude a scowl, “She's not there Jude, give it up. “
“I can't just lose her. “ Jude sighs, furiously typing on his phone.
Trent rolls his yees, patience wearing thin,“You’re fucked in the head you know that? After all you’ve done to her, you still want her to come running back?”
Silence.
“I care about you Jude I really do. But you left her walking around at 3 am with a dead phone in the middle of alleyways dude. That's not okay. “
—--
The airport has never felt lonelier, but you swallow the lump in your throat, boarding your flight home and trying to forget the man that you've come to associate it with. Madrid will be a hard place to move on in, when its walls shine with its star boy. Its halls all but cheering his name. Every corner you're bound to be reminded of him. You can do it, one way or another you won't let yourself be miserable.
#jude fluff#jude x you#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham#jude x reader#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x you#jude bellingham one shot#jude bellingham imagine#trent alexander arnold x reader#trent alexander x you#trent alexander imagines#trent x reader#trent alexander arnold#taa x reader#taa66#taa imagines#taa#trent alexander oneshot#football fanfic#footy fic#bahr footy#bahr writes#bahr blurbs
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LICK BACK
it didn’t take long before the rumor mill began to hit the last place anyone wanted it to. Chatter and discourse circulated among everyone over at AMG. From staff and crew to the top level..concerned about what it meant, not only for the PR manager and her clientele but the company as a whole. Honestly, it all seemed more like some sick, deluded fever dream. There was no way that a photo from years ago, taken completely out of context and held zero weight was creating all of these problems! Although they were both young and there were a lot of drugs and alcohol involved the night that said picture was snapped, they both were adamant in the fact that nothing came of it. There was no way in hell that she’d even entertain the idea of sleeping with EJ. The thought alone made her skin crawl. She didn’t see it for him then and damn sure didn’t now. And vice versa. And even on the off chance there was some forgotten one night stand…what did it matter now anyways?! They had obviously both moved on and there were zero romantic, sexual or otherwise feelings there. Whoever decided to dredge these up from the archives was either bored, miserable or mad as hell over something. Could’ve been a mix of the three..who knows. But what was certain, was that this had to be fixed and quickly..before everything fell apart!
pacing the floor of her high rise condo, purchased for work years ago, the talent scout nursed her glass of wine as she trembled. Fear and anxiety had taken over her entire body…her eyes bloodshot from crying for hours on end. Her heart felt as if it were going to explode from her chest..it was all too much to bear.
“So what are you going to do? Everyone seems to believe that something happened. Even if it was years ago, it’s going to be hard to convince the world that there’s nothing going on.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Vivi but I’m not worried about convincing the world of anything. They’ll talk and believe what they want regardless. I’m only concerned with what my husband and (y/n) thinks. They’re the victims in all of this…they don’t deserve to have to deal with it.” But alas, she was wrong. Although that was her main priority, she failed to take into consideration how the rest of her clientele must’ve been feeling. She was the public relations manager..the quintessential fixer who made problems go away…if she was knee deep in her own scandal, how the hell could they trust her to get rid of theirs? It was a nightmare!
finally feeling as if the unbearable weight had caught up to her, Mikasa plopped down on a nearby couch, where her aunt and creative director Vivian Ackerman was seated. The older woman would cradle her niece’s head onto her chest akin to the way she had when she was younger. In truth, she was the only adult in her life who had actually taken the time to see her as a child in her adolescence rather than some machine; the ideal artist who moved on everyone else’s time but with her, she could be herself. And right now, the thing she needed most was a shoulder to cry on. To let her frustrations out.
“He left for his tour last night..didn’t even say goodbye. Once social media started talking, he went to a hotel and didn’t say a word. But the look on his face? I'd never seen him in pain like that. When I called him..he didn’t even answer. But then I found his ring on the nightstand. That and the necklace I gave him when he first started playing in my band. He never took that stupid thing off for anything….I guess it’s really over, huh? I screwed up..”
she could feel herself slipping further into despair. The thought of losing the one man who’d always given her the world. The man she joked, laughed and had more fun with than anyone. Who saw her flaws as perfections, accepted her in any way. The love of her life, Jean was gone and now her sweet (y/n) was pissed too. She had blocked her everywhere and was refusing to answer her or Eren’s calls. He told her that (y/n) had someone send for the rest of her belongings and that she wouldn’t be coming back. And EJ was in worse shape than she was. Not even bothering to get out of bed. How could they possibly convince you or anyone else that this was all a huge misunderstanding. But what shocked them both was that there was a single post uploaded to her Instagram page with her on a private jet. Tan leather seats surrounding her along with some roses. She sat posed as if she were straddling someone’s lap and her bare back was facing the camera with her face out of the frame. And coiled around her? Were tattooed arms with some rather familiar looking ink. The caption simply read “having my way.” Comments were shut off for the post so no one could have a field day underneath but trust, the alarm bells were going off something crazy. But one thing was for certain…when it was all said and done, those two would be the ones left crying!
“You think that was a little too much?”
“For what they did? Please..they’re lucky their asses aren’t dead right now. I’d say they got off easy.”
because right now..you were on a flight, headed to Europe. Lying in bed, draped in sheets as they caressed your naked body. But the linen wasn’t the only thing touching you. Right now, those very same arms and hands from the photo were rubbing and caressing your body. Only after using them to bounce you up and down on him. Some might say it was one hell of an overreaction to something that couldn’t be confirmed but fuck it, it shouldn’t have gotten this far. And as for who was helping you exact this little cruel act of revenge?
“Besides…I think this is much better. They can sit and think about that shit while we have some fun. Not like it’s the first time. What do you think?”
“I think you’re right..”
that too would remain a mystery!
#I’m officially not shit#aot x black reader#black fem reader#black reader#musician x influencer au#eren x black fem!reader#aot au#black reader smut#attack on titan#aot fanfiction#aot imagines#aot drabbles#modern au#aot modern au#mikasa ackerman#eren jaeger#jean kirschstein#aot#sitting here giggling as I post this#musician au#black fanfiction#love y’all though#don’t jump me#snk au#snk imagines#snk eren#snk mikasa#aot mikasa#aot jean#aot angst
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Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.
Also, I love you ❤️
❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader
❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand.
❀ Word Count: 4188
❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut
❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED.
❀ Published: August 3, 2023
❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!
❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust | Song Inspiration |
Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.
If he tried.
If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family.
Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.
Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up.
The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.
Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games.
He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask.
Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr.
Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you.
And worse, he doesn’t want to.
Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.
Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.
He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches.
Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it.
“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling.
Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text.
Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?
Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.
Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous.
Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.
This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire.
Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix.
At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable.
Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy.
When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.
Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.
Now, danger is already there.
The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler.
But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm.
It’s you. You’re the storm.
A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.
Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you.
A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target.
Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air.
Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.
Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.
At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him.
This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.
It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel.
“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”
“What are you doing, Witch?”
Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach.
It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known.
“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing.
“I’ll miss that. Take this.”
Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.
Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.
Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.
Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open.
Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.
The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.
I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me.
The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier.
Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic.
It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris.
Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down.
All he can do is scream.
-
Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core.
You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.
But Yoongi never asks questions.
It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.
Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.
Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise.
Penance and praise are not the same, though.
Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest.
Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically.
And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner.
That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.
Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon.
Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench.
The best thing you could do for him was die.
So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child.
Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands.
Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.
Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar.
It smells like… Yoongi.
“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”
A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?”
Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours.
“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy.
“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”
“What?”
“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”
Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.
Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”
He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”
“You’re not calling the shots.”
“You’re in no condition to fight me.”
“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”
His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”
“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”
“Of course, witch.”
Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands.
Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat.
You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.
Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.
“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”
“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”
“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”
“I’m not good at that.”
You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?”
“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”
Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.
“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.
He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”
“Yes.”
Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.
He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.
Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight.
“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”
“Keep going.”
“As if i could fucking stop.”
You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile.
Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time.
After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers.
“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.”
#yoongi smut#suga smut#min yoongi smut#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x reader#bts suga#bts fanfic#minors do not interact#minors dni#bts suga smut#yoongi angst#halis happy agust
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Slime HRT Day 1: First Pages
I was told I should write down my experiences in this journal. I'm only really doing this because I was told I didn't have to share my writings with anyone except for emergencies, whatever that means. Today is the first day of my new life, and becoming something not human anymore.
I've seen a lot of social media about species HRT. I think it’s supposed to be “Human Removal Therapy”. There’s a lot of people online bashing it, and I'm sure someone is going to try and ban it eventually, but for right now it's pretty unrestricted. To be honest, I am fascinated by it. Becoming something inhuman seemed so, I don't know, cool I guess, but it felt distant, like it would never happen to me, or I'd be labeled a freak by my friends. It was only until my girlfriend brought it up in a passing conversation that I gained the courage to admit I was curious about it. She said I should go for it. The amount of joy I felt then and there was like a 20 ton weight had just exploded out of my chest, but in a good way! We spent the rest of the night talking about treatments and articles, I never felt so happy except then and there, to be seen like that.
My legs were shaking when I met with that doctor. I was told it was normal to be nervous, but it really felt like I was going to just have a breakdown the entire time we talked. There was a lot of psychological exams and way, WAY too much paperwork that basically said I was sure I would be happy and cool with going through with this process. The doctor was patient at least, though he was rude with how little he tried to hide the boredom of his job. Besides that, there was something about him that just made him feel like this was the last thing he wanted to do, the kind of man who’s a total pushover. We eventually got to the question I was dreading “what was I here for, what am I looking to be?” My voice just suddenly stop working right there. It's so funny how I saw an actual dragon on my way here and somehow my request seemed so much more ridiculous. That stupid doctor kept prying me to just tell him until my frustration surpassed my anxiety, and I was able to blurt out that I wanted to be a slime.
I don't know when or why, but I've always liked the idea of slimes. It's their fluidity I think. Being able to morph myself the way I want whenever I want. I mean, how can I trust I'll be happy with my body shape everyday when I can't even pick a favorite color. I spent so much time writing out my own ideas of how their biology worked, or creating a bunch of slime girls for stories I never finished writing. It took me a while to realize I wanted to be just like them, like how it took me a while to realize I wanted to be a girl too.
I thought I'd get laughed out of his office, I mean I've seen the photos and stories of people on slime HRT but it just felt different, like I was going one step too far, I was probably just super anxious, I felt so relieved when he just showed me a list of slime variants instead of laughing. There were so many different options on the list, slimes made of just gel, sap, wax, and there were so many different colors, but that was the problem, they all felt right, I wanted to be any of them.
It was so selfish to ask, but I needed to know if a slime that could change color was possible, or something that could truly transform into any kind of slime. He asked what I meant, if I was looking into becoming a shapeshifter. I shook my head no and said I wanted something like a chameleon. He took off his glasses and pinched his nose, like the weight of every request he ever had just hit him. We, kind of, argued for a while. Well it was him telling me all the different reasons it wouldn’t work or how some people had set up safe LED strips to become a slime strobe globe of different colors, but for some reason it was the one thing I didn’t want to budge on. The one thing I was certain I wanted was that I wouldn’t be certain about my final choice. I was actually ready to just punch this old man until he suddenly folded to my demands and told me he'd need time to make a new variant for something like that. Something about a membrane and chromatophores I think. He also stated, bluntly, that I still needed to pick the type of slime. Being able to switch from red to blue is one thing but there needs to be a base.
There were a lot of good options, to the point it took me an hour to go through everything and just think about it. I was probably pushing him a bit too close to his next appointment with how long I was searching through options. It certainly makes me wonder how anyone can just know the answer right away. Eventually I had to settle on one and chose the soap variant. I was told it wasn’t actual soap, but it smelled nice and helped deal with germs. I’m not a germaphobe but I like the idea of smelling nice all the time.
After that, I was told I would be contacted eventually when my medication was ready. The wait could be best be described as brutal. There were a lot of calls I made only for me to be told it wasn’t ready yet. I thought I got scammed, like I went to the wrong place and that quack doctor was just faking everything and I wouldn't ever get to be the real me. The most I got was a message once a month saying the research was going well, if I was lucky.
It was about a year when I got a call back from him, explaining that my medication was ready. I'll be honest, I thought he wouldn't have ever completed it and just stole $600 out of my bank account for a single appointment. I have it now though, a bottle of gel capsules. They taste awful, like shoving soap into my mouth, which makes sense thinking about it. Apparently I won't need to take my normal hormone medication after a bit. Which is good because it's really expensive to pay for both. I guess that concludes my thoughts on the first day. The doc wants me to keep writing down my physical changes but also that I write down my emotional state as well. I don't really get why that’s so important, but whatever, it’s the least I can do if I finally get to be the slime girl I always wanted to be. I can't wait to see how I turn out.
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Thank you for reading through this story. While I’m sure it’s obvious, this is a story inspired by @ayviedoesthings own Dragon HRT as well as @welldrawnfish Fish HRT. I’ve loved these stories ever since they first came out. But I never felt like I had a story of my own to write until I read @sandyca5tle own slime HRT. Please check out all these people’s stories if you haven’t already, and thank you to sandyca5tle for really lighting the fire in me that made me want to try my hand at this sort of thing. I have plans to continue this for a while, not sure how long it’ll be but I want to be able to write a new segment at least one post every one to two weeks. I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know if you have any advice on how to improve my writing. Thank you so much for reading all this, seriously, it means the world to me.
#slime hrt#slime girl#species hrt#animal hrt#transgender#original writing#dragon hrt#fish hrt#fiction writing#gender fluid#monster girl
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Confess -W2S
Words: 1.1k+
Warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, hospital, injury, car accident, worrying.
Summary: when you fall in love with your best friend you struggle to keep your feelings at bay then Harry gets into an accident and it changes everything.
a/n: hello my loves! Here is the request🫶🏼. This is like nothing I’ve ever written before so I hope you enjoy🤭💓
Tonight I'm going to a club with the boys and the side girls for a night out. It was Freya's last minute idea since we haven't been with each other as a group in so long. I was slightly nervous since I knew Harry was going to be there. I've had a crush on him since last year. There wasn't a specific moment that I realised but when I found myself constantly thinking about him and his big blue eyes I knew there was a problem.
I tried to convince myself that I didn't like him but eventually I accepted that I had a crush on one of my best friends. We've grown apart the past year due to me not wanting to be within two feet of him, worried that I'll do something I'll regret.
I invited Faith round to my apartment for pre drinks. Once she arrived I poured us both a drink and turned the music on. She helped me figure out what I was going to wear then after a few finishing touches we left. When we arrived outside of the club I took a deep breath. "You alright?" Faith asked with furrowed brows. "Mhm." I hummed then hopped out of the uber.
Thankfully Harry hadn't arrived yet so I got myself a drink. When I made my way back to the table I noticed that in the five minutes I'd been gone Harry and Freezy had arrived. It felt so weird to be nervous around him, we've been friends for so long and I've always felt so... safe when I'm with him. "Hey! y/n, how've you been?" Freezy asked. I smiled politely. "Great thanks." I sat down next to Talia.
After almost an hour of avoiding Harry I left to use the toilet. "Wait!" I turned around swiftly, just as I was about to open the bathroom door. Harry stood before me. I started to panic. I've never felt so strange in my life. Why do I feel like I'm going to explode. "I just- are you ok?" He asked. I looked to the floor. "I'm fine." I replied, swiftly pushing myself into the bathroom.
I took a deep breath once the door closed. "What the fuck is wrong with me?! I need fresh air." I thought. I made my way outside after freshening up and I let the cool air wash over my body. "I can't continue like this. I need to talk to Harry." I told myself. But first I need to get a little more drunk. When I returned to the table Talia began asking me where I'd been. I told her I wasn't feeling great so went to get some fresh air. She didn't look like she fully believed me but she let it go.
Later in the night once I was extremely drunk I decided it was time to talk to Harry. I took a deep breath then walked over to the bar where he stood next to Ethan. I tapped him gently on the shoulder. "Can I talk to you?" I asked him softly. He nodded quickly. I led him outside. "Ok so-" my words slowly cut out as he stepped towards me, so close I could smell the mixture of cologne and alcohol lingering on his body. "Can I kiss you y/n?" He asked. My breath hitched. I leaned closer. "Yes. Please." I whispered. Slowly his lips touched mine and everything finally felt complete.
After that night I didn't hear a word from him. I was upset but assumed that he didn't remember since we were so drunk or that he thought it was a mistake. But I couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. It was sweet but desperate. Slow yet fast. Soft yet rough. I tried desperately to forget and move on but I just couldn't.
Almost two weeks after that night I was headed to my car after a long day at work when I got a call from Freezy. "Hello?" I answered, confused. "y/n, hi. Um- Harry's in the hospital." He told me quickly. My eyes widened. "I- what- Is he ok?!" I frantically ran towards my car. "He's ok but he's asking for you." "Me?" I stopped as I opened the car door. "Yes. Are you on your way?" He asked. "Mhm. I'll be there in ten."
When I arrived outside of the hospital I quickly parked then practically jumped out of the car. I made my way towards the reception desk and gave Harry's name. The woman nodded politely then showed me to his room. "Just in there." She said sweetly. I smiled lightly. "Thank you." She walked away and I stared nervously at the closed door. I took a long, deep breath. "He's fine. Everything's fine." I attempted to silently reassure myself. Before I could contemplate any more I pushed the door open.
Harry sat on a hospital bed with a few machines hooked up to him and a large bruise on his forehead. My mouth dropped open. "Oh my fucking god! I thought Cal said you were fine!" I rushed towards him. "I am." He reassured quietly. "You're clearly not! What the fuck happened?" "I- I was hit by a car." He looked into my eyes. A look of complete shock graced my features. "Hit by a car?!" "Uh, yeah. It was only a bump but I fell and knocked my head on the pavement. I think I passed out, it's all kind of a blur." My eyes fluttered closed. "Why am I here Harry?" I asked, eyes still shut.
It was silent for a second before he finally spoke. "Because I- I realised that if I had been really hurt today I would've regretted not telling you that... that I- I love you y/n." My eyes shot open. "You what?" My voice came out much quieter than I expected. "I love you. I've loved you for years. And I haven't stopped thinking about you since that kiss." "You remember?" "How could I not?" He pushed himself from the hospital bed. "Why- why didn't you say anything? No call, no text, nothing." I stepped back. "Because I thought you didn't remember." He replied.
I sighed, looking down at my feet. "I love you too." I whispered, barely believing that I was saying those words out loud. A tear slipped down my cheek. I wasn't sure if it was because I was nervous, stressed or happy but I didn't have time to think before I felt two strong arms wrap around my figure. I burst into floods of tears as I clung onto him. "I was so worried." I squeaked out. "I'm sorry." He whispered. I pulled away slowly with a sniffle. "I'm glad you're okay." "Me too because if I wasn't I wouldn't be able to do this." He placed his hand on the top of my back as our lips connected for the second (but definitely not last) time.
#w2s#wroetoshaw#harry lewis#harry w2s#harry wroetoshaw#w2s x reader#w2s fic#w2s imagine#wroetoshaw x reader#wroetoshaw oneshot#harry lewis x reader#harry x reader#youtuber x reader#sidemen x reader#british youtubers#x fem!reader#x female reader#x y/n#x you#x reader#angst#angst with a happy ending#car accident#hospital#injury
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