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whataperfectwasteoftime · 9 months

Text

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested.

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights.

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly.

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort.

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly.

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it.

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty.

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside.

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him.

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant.

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?”

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm.

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin.

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time.

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet.

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :)

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email.

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :)

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection.

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out.

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely.

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner.

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table.

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair.

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you.

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve.

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up.

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction.

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning.

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk.

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully.

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily.

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where.

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly.

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly.

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious.

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root.

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you.

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine.

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it.

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing.

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement.

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you.

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.”

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you.

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh.

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod.

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest.

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response.

“Yes.”

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right.

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.”

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

“You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly.

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him.

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you.

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another.

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

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needsmoretea · 8 days

Text

Just thought I'd post some random Pixiv recs for my fellow enjoyers of ZOOL shenanigans~

カキ has some really cute illustrations. This is one of my favourite collections, and I particularly love the how it started vs how it's going pic of Touma being all, "uhh, guys???"

猿川円 also does some lovely illustration collections. One of my favourites is a collection of stuff from APOZ and Beyond the Period, partly for this lovely scene of Minami being reminded of Haruki before rejoining the rest of the group.

ymd does a lot of gen stuff as well (along with some ToraMina if you like that sort of thing), and their art is super pretty. This comic collection is very amusing, especially this one. Very rough and short translation...

Haruka: This is hilarious. They’re saying ZOOL get along so well, the four of them should just live together and marry each other. Do we really seem that buddy-buddy?

Touma: M-marry?! Why would they say that!?

And then Haruka, Minami and Torao are like lol sounds like fun, let's do that, live in a crazy expensive Midou residence and buy a really big rice cooker, while Touma eventually just kind of goes along with it and is all

Touma: You really look like you’re enjoying this… Sure, why not. Let’s live together and be happy!

(GOOD END?)

And then there's U, my absolute favourite ZOOL fanartist, who draws the most hilarious comics. I did a rough translation of this collection here when I sent an ask to @always-a-joyful-note, so I'll repost it here for good measure.

Q: Which entertainer do you message most on Rabbichat?

Minami: I... (Inumaru-san...)

Haruka: To... (Touma, I guess...)

Torao: To... (Touma, probably...)

Touma: It's Riku.

Minami, Haruka and Torao: HMMMMM????

Touma: He's always active on Rabbichat, after all.

And then to save face they all change their answers instead of 'Touma' or 'Inumaru-san' to...

Minami: Iroke no aru hito desu. (A certain sexy person)

Haruka: Toshiue no onna! (An older woman)

Torao: Toruko no onna. (A Turkish woman)

Touma: You can't answer with any of those! (We're idols, you know).

And now for some other comic translations under the cut to break things up a bit.

Like the last comic when they finish up work early so Touma asks the others if they want to grab dinner together but they all play hard to get, so he's like, whatever, guess I'll invite Riku instead, and they're like WHY AREN'T YOU TRYING HARDER TO ASK US OUT??? and he's like GOD YOU'RE SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS.

I also greatly enjoyed this collection and this comic of the rest of ZOOL getting jealous of Touma's interactions with Riku the most.

Riku: Touma-san!

Touma: What’s up?

Riku: Take that~ *thwack* I smacked you with my towel, so now we have to hug!

Touma: Uh… I don’t really get it… wait, listen to me!

Riku: A hug with Touma-san~ *squeeze*

Touma: Get offa me already!

Minami, Haruka & Torao: … *THWACK THWACK THWACK*

Touma: Ow… that hurts! What’s with you guys? Are you bullying me?!

Also this collection too, and the comic of them bumping into Re: Vale.

Yuki: *staaare*

Touma: Wh-what is it?

Yuki: Those yaeba sure are nice. (They remind me of Momo’s) *just noticed*

Touma: !!!!!!!!

Momo: Hey, Yuki, are you cheating on me? I’m supposed to be your number one!

Toao: That ice queen again. Hey, Touma, pull yourself together!

Touma: Yuki-san gave me a compliment… (Well, my teeth.)

Torao: What are you blushing for? Just what kind of relationship do you have with that guy?!

Again, another quick translation via an ask @always-a-joyful-note for this comic here, here and here of Touma's 'I love you' scene from Beyond the Period:

Touma: (Wow, Haru is actually saying 'I love you' to the fans. He sure has become cool. Okay, I should say it too.) I love... you... (Huh? Those two are really staring at me for some reason.)

Torao: Did you hear that, everyone? Touma just said he loves me.

Haruka: No, he looked at me when he said it.

Torao: He was looking at me longer though.

Haruka: No, he was looking at me 5 seconds longer than you.

And then while Touma's being all what the heck are you guys talking about, it's like...

Minami: I'm the only one you didn't say 'I love you' to.

Touma: No, it's not like that, Mina. When I said 'I love you', I meant -

Minami: I'M THE ONLY ONE YOU DIDN'T SAY 'I LOVE YOU' TO.

Touma: OKAY OKAY YOU'RE SCARING ME

The collection with the Monster Parade comic is also super funny because even teeny tiny mon-mon ZOOL refuses to leave Touma alone (sasagero fuwafuwa version?)

Touma: My shoulders feel heavy lately

Haruka: Isn’t that just you getting older?

Tora: Don’t tell me you’re being haunted

Minami: Fufu, has someone cursed you?

Touma: Don’t scare me like that

Staff member: Excuse me

Touma: Coming~

Haruka, Minami & Torao: !!?

Also, this comic. I guess everyone just lives at Touma's place now?

Touma: We’ve done our first shrine visit of the year, so now I guess we should head home

Haruka: You’re leaving already?

Tora: But I kept my schedule open for you

Minami: I feel like we should still hang out

Touma: Ehh… Well, my place is nearby. Wanna come over?

Torao: It’s tiny. It’s smaller than the bathroom at my place.

Touma: Your bathroom is just ridiculously big!

Minami: How like you to have a kotatsu, Inumaru-san

Haruka: Kotatsu are awesome

Touma: I know, right? Anyway, make yourselves at home

*A few hours later*

Torao: It’s small but it’s comfortable. It’s not so bad

Minami: I don’t want to get out from under the kotatsu

Haruka: Zzzz

Touma: I know I told you to make yourselves at home but when are you guys planning to leave…

While once again, the rest of ZOOL gets jealous of Touma's relationship with Riku and decides to take it out on poor Shirou instead.

Minami: Inumaru-san, are you drinking Li*ton again?

Haruka: Probably because of Nanase Riku

Torao: Yesterday it was Sougo. What a cheater

Touma: I’m just drinking Li*ton! But you know, collabs sure are nice. When I look at them like this, it makes me feel like I can do my best. Like I wanna see Riku.

Minami: Ohh….

Haruka: Hmm…

Torao: Hehh…

Minami: Utsugi-san, why aren’t we getting any collab jobs?

Haruka: If you’re our manager then you’d better get us some collab jobs!

Torao: If you don’t, we’ll tell on you to Ryou-san

Shirou: I get it already, calm down! (Inumaru-san, what have you been saying to them?!)

Speaking of Shirou, looks like Torao needs to be cautious around him too.

Shirou: Excuse me, about tomorrow’s 5 year anniversary…

Touma: What about it?

Torao: (That’s it, Touma. Stay vigilant around this guy.)

Shirou: Shall we have a chat over some grilled meat after you’re done?

Touma: MEAT?! (I knew it, he’s a good guy!)

Shirou: Inumaru-san, you really are like a dog. I can see why Ryou-kun said you looked good wearing a collar.

Touma: *not listening anymore* Haru, let’s go and eat some meat!

Shirou: Can I pet him just this once?

Torao: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Sorry for the super long post and the sucky translations, but please enjoy the pretty pictures and do feel free to give the artists a like if you enjoyed their work as much as I did. >3

#idolish7 #zool #fanart recs #just look at these problematic tsunderes #oblivious touma is also hilarious

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cosmicstarlatte · 7 months

Note

The last lines I've written in years were

'As he gazes upon your form frozen in time, he gains his answer. He learns of something new.

Pain; in it’s most pure form, comes from love lost and to never be had again.' 💀

I'm heavy into Obey Me again. Biggest whore for my men in there smh. I play/played some ikemen. There's a few indie otomes/ dating Sims (Our Life & Cinderella Phenomenon). Mystic Messenger, Amnesia, Hakuoki to name some big ones.

My obsessions RN are OM and JJK. I also like TokyoRev bc ooooff future Mikey god dayum. Gojo loml. I'm delulu for funsieesss.

My best friend is my outlet for scenarios so she helps. I also play Genshin Impact. Rip my wallet!!!

- Angst Anon

CHILLS. (A pun? Maybe.)

I already feel sad reading that, imagining one of my poor blorbos going through it. :( ty for the heart ache lmao 😭

Also gotta cut this bc I got sooooo excited:

Ahhh who are your favorites in OM!? ^^

Ive played Ikemen Sengoku & Prince! FOREVER MAD AT HOW UNDERRATED KENNYO IS IN IKESEN!!! UNFORGIVABLE!! THAT OLD MAN IS SEXY & DESERVES TO BE TREATED LIKE A KING!! I'LL BRINGING OUT THE [REDACTED] & [REDACTED] FOR HIM. Ahem. Also huge huge huge fan of Clavis in Ikepri, the most unexpected one i didnt think id love. ♡♡♡

OMG IVE PLAYED OUR LIFE also I'm so so sorry for the caps I'm just really overly excited to meet someone else that played Our Life! ITS SO GOOD & ITS FREE!?!?! But the hours upon hours of content!? The INSANE customization!? FREEEEEEE!!!!!! I was so immersed in that game I pulled an all nighter!! Did they ever come up with DLCs for the other characters!? Omg.

& I vaguely remember Cinderella Phenomenon, I know its downloaded on my laptop but I don't think I actually played it though? I can't remember!!! I played a little bit of mystic messenger but it was too stressful for me, jumin definitely still has my heart though! It's funny bc I was literally looking him up the other day bc I missed his pretty face!

I haven't played the other otomes though!

Ive seen a lot of TokyoRev around but I don't really know what it's about, it seems real popular though!

Anyway it's okay we're all delulu here ♡

*remembers fondly of yesterday when I was talking on main about eating chosos ass*

Im glad your best friend feeds that delulu 😌💕

I haven't played genshin but I definitely simp over a few characters in the fandom 👀 dude fr RIP wallets of otome/mobile game players! 😭

Anyway the jumin pic I saved the other day!

#WOW SO SORRY FOR ALL THAT I JUST GOT SO EXCITED???#✩ — the star: angsty anon!

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baeshijima · 3 years

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐲/𝐧

A/N : i have nothing to say other than the fact there will be an excessive amount of twitch slang bc why tf not + just,,, heavy streamer!albedo brainrot ;-;

masterlist

AIGHT

streamer albedo

…

pog—

so before we get into him being whipped for u, let’s go over the type of strimmer mr Kreideprinz is

fun fact that’s his twitch name—

albedo would be the type to do lots of variety streams of different games, but also the occasional art one if he wants to have a chill stream with his chat !!

speaking of chat… they’re an odd mix of wholesome supporters, KAPPA + POGGERS + catJAM (bc he always has some bangers on in the bg like yes u bless our ears my guy) + KEKW + EZ Clap + his own emotes spammers, mr albedo’s very own shrimps (me, ahEm—), and ppl who just appreciate his voice + gameplay

if there’s a troll he just bans them OMEGALUL

omg he has lots of emotes (which he made in some of his art streams so his viewers could choose some) for every scenario but we’ll get into the popular ones in a bit 👁👁

he’s most definitely one of the bigger, well-known streamers but with a smaller group of friends

his discord server has,,, a lot of ppl,,, 70k+ ppl big,,, rip notifs if ur in it ;-;

he has it muted tho 🐥 like, sir, that’s ur server pay the goddamn price smh

wait i forgot to mention this but he has his webcam on when streaming

so u can bet ur chickens that when ppl come to visit his stream bc of whatever category he has on, they stay for his visuals and voice <33

his twt 🤡 mans gets 1k+ likes, rts, comments within the first 5-10 mins

omg he gets soft when he receives sm support from his community 🥺🥺

gifts so many subs when hitting milestones, chat is wholesome or just whenever really HJKSDHKL

also doesn’t swear much unless he gets played by his own game and/or someone is being incredibly annoying <//3

he also just,,, eats on stream

albedo straight up takes his webcam with him to show him cooking if his viewers ask for it

or he just orders food then and there and eats while chatting to everyone or watching youtube with his chat 🥺

nOW ONTO HIM BEING WHIPPED FOR U AS A GENSHIN STREAMER

this AR55 man 👩‍🦯

he can literally produce content from anything

from artifact farming, to spiral abyss, to running around mindlessly, to building characters he would normally never build, to him seeing how high up is considered too high to dive

and everyone eats it up bc it’s albedo <3

also !! he’s the type who includes the story quests in his streams so his reaction and thoughts on everything is just,,, there

now when u were first introduced in the prologue (yes ur one of the ogs + involved in the dvalin fight <33) he blanked and all his viewers could see was u on screen with him staring blankly in the bottom right of the screen

this man straight up saw u in a cutscene for one second and fell in love

his chat went wild omfg

he immediately made an emote for u and that’s his most popular one 😌

but i kid u not, the moment u appeared in that cutscene (one in which he will forever treasure in the crevices of his heart) was the moment he asked this exact question ;

“ so (y/n) banner when? ”

and mihoyo heard his pleas and answered with ur event banner

except it was like,, 4 months later

at least ur finally here tho :’)

now he can have his lil science-y moments with ur voicelines ;-;

yes, ur the chief alchemist but ✨ 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✨

. . .

shut up

n e who

when he saw the notification from mihoyo’s official forums that u will be a playable character in the new update — along with new characters, region, events & a domain — i shit u not he did a rt, his own tweet, an announcement on the community feature on youtube, and made constant reminders to his viewers on twitch abt how he will be a (y/n) haver no matter what

he even added future (y/n) haver in his twt display name

what a shrimp—

the 1.2 update stream 🐥 he was there waiting for it to go live with like,,, 19k viewers spamming his chat abt predictions and obv ur official release + showcase

and when i say this man fell even more in love while watching ur trailer and character showcase 🥺 he wouldn’t stop smiling or being in awe bc ur just??? so stunning???

mihoyo clearly has a favourite child and it’s u

chat was spamming ur exclusive emote like crazy oml

u can bet it was also flooded with lots of POGs and POGGERS

overall it was a very fun, chaotic stream filled with lots of (y/n) appreciation and love <33

also a very memorable stream for all his viewers bc of the side of albedo they rarely see unless ur involved

the day ur banner was to go live tho 🐥

the streams leading up to the fateful day consisted of him farming ur mats

that’s it

boss runs, local specialties, hero wits, talent books, the mats needed for ur weapon he was inevitably going to pull for (only the best for the best, afterall) and many domain runs

many painful domain runs

all of it was worth it tho bc ur worth everything :’)

an actual quote said by him—

at least he can get u and ur weapon to lvl 90 right off the bat with all the artifacts tailored for u ;-;

and get u to that point he did HJSDKJF

once ur banner dropped? immediately started wishing

2 multis in and he gets u 😣

albedo nearly cried and was the literal embodiment of head in hands

wHEN I SAY HIS CHAT BLEW TF UP AND HIS MODS JOINED IN

modCheck has left the chat

everyone’s rooting for him :’)

pulled for ur weapon and got it in 1 multi

sir give me ur luck pls and ty

but yes he nearly choked on the gASP he let out while chat screamed even more

he blanked for a bit, i won’t lie ;-;

but when he realised this was real, he immediately went to his party set up and put u in

can we all get an f in the chat for his lvl 10 tartaglia 😔💔👊

his chat usually rages at him to build him but if he’s being honest, he cba

ur vl when he put u in the party tho <333

now he’s just spent half an hour running around with u, letting u do ur idle animations (will always be grateful for mihoyo creating u like this), reading ur very limited (for now—) character story and going through ur voicelines

ur morning & about us (when he unlocks it) voiceline >>>>> his heart be running laps rn i swear

eventually he does begin to build u after much admiration on his end and at lvl 1 with lvl 20 artifacts, u already have 1.6k atk 🐥

now after he levels u and ur weapon to lvl 90, u have 2.8k atk 🐥

rip mobs <//3

he now plays u as his main dps 😌

the kit initially designed for u is meant to be more for support?? kinda like the whole ganyu or zhongli debate abt them being a dps or a support/sub dps ;-;

except ur more utility like venti or bennett

and even though the majority said at the beginning (aka, mihoyo, pretty much any other streamer and the larger part of the fanbase) that ur meant for support, he said fuck that and built u as his main dps

and i won’t lie, u do more damage than any of his characters, and ppl who co op with him

ur his pride and joy :’)

he went to take a look at ur consts to see if they were worth the rng suffering and, lo-and-behold,

they were

so now he’s using all his saved primos for u to try and get ur c6 const, along with making ur weapon r5 :’)

his chat gets a free view of him internally suffering when the gold light doesn’t come, and his external suffering when he loses the 50/50

in the end, he decided to whale for u <33

after nearly an hour, he has u to c6 and ur weapon to r5 ;-;

now all he’s been doing the whole stream is running around with u in open world, doing his daily farming, doing more domain and boss runs, exploring the new region (dragonspine) + ur story quest

he’s saving the event quest for another stream bc ✨content✨

in ur quest, he had multiple heart attacks and now has many, many screenshots <3

he now has a zoomed in pic of ur face as his twt pfp <33

okay so i also feel like he’s not all that bothered abt getting characters to friendship level 10 immediately and would rather let it happen through time

but obv ur not any other character *proceeds to debby ryan at u*

even if ur not fit for a particular domain or boss, he still puts u in the party so when collecting the blossom/rewards, u can get the friendship exp ;-;

he just wants ur name card so he can show off okay 🥺

when he lets his viewers pick out the playlist, 98% of the songs are from ur character demo theme

they just know him so well 😩

they also just wanna see the way he smiles when he hears it play but shhhhhh

now he just has his in-game avatar as u, and ur namecard too <33

also his signature is just ;

“ (y/n)’s favourite streamer ”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin albedo x reader #genshin impact albedo x reader #albedo headcanons #albedo scenarios #albedo fluff #i will now cry bc i cant talk at him for a week #this is my parting post #streaming dreams

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

Text

𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑆𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings/Disclaimer: NSFW content/Older Ateez but age differences is written withing legal boundaries. Also mentions of infidelity (which I don't condone, justify nor encourage), corruption kink and loss of virginity.

A/N: Also, Yeosang's reaction is a sneak peek at the Dilf! Fic in my w.i.p.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

It all started as a way to get a passing grade for the semester, but soon became a mission to get inside your professor's pants. You still remembered the unamused gaze he gave you when you first suggested you 'help' him out.

"Nice try Miss Y/N.... but perhaps instead of wasting time behind the bleachers sucking off the jocks' cocks, maybe dip your head instead into your books and study for once."

You couldn't believe he'd actually reject you. No man had ever rejected you, they always fell to your charms. Professor Kim was about to become your biggest challenge yet and you didn't mind. Besides, something about fucking an older man had you pulling out your trusted vibrator out so many times during the night. Kim Hongjoong was just so fucking hot and you desperately wanted him, even if for one night.

"Please Mr. Kim..... you know they say I give the best blow jobs here." You tried yet again one day when everyone else left.

"They? You mean horny 20 something year olds who bust a nut by just a booby pic?"

For the first time, his poker face finally had an expression in the form of a smirk.

"Honey, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that. I've had my cock sucked by countless women in all my years. Besides..."

Leaning closer to you, he reached a hand out so his thumb could graze across your bottom lip.

"What makes you think a pretty young thing like you can take a mature cock like mine? You've probably never even had one half the size of mine."

You let out an involuntary moan as you pictured just how well endowed your teacher was. Looking down, you noticed the obvious bulge he was donning and you wanted nothing more than to pull him out and suck him dry. It seemed he noticed since he sat back down on his chair. Gesturing for you to come over, you practically hopped over to him, letting him guide you on your knees as he began to take himself out.

"But do knock yourself out. I'm kinda curious to see what the newer generations do nowadays."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Others would have complained and would be annoyed by the fact their new neighbors would have almost daily fights between them, typical marital disputes. But not you, you didn't mind hearing their screaming that was clearly heard through the walls. Especially since more often than not their fights would end in rough, angry sex that had you touching yourself at nights, a guilty pleasure you always looked forward to.

And you had been eyeing the husband from the moment the couple moved in. Park Seonghwa was everything you looked for in a man and even more. Handsome, mature, tall, well sculpted, responsible, sexy as hell and you knew for a fact he could definitely fuck. One day you knocked over at their door to give them one of them many pastries you'd often bake for your neighbors in the building.

"You know Mr. Park....if you ever get too frustrated with your wife....my door is always open." You boldly offered him.

He looked at you in shock but you sent him a reassuring wink before walking back to your apartment, making sure to sway your hips so he could have the image engraved in his mind. And boy did you rile him up. Now he couldn't stop thinking about you. You're all he had in his head. Now whenever he'd fight, he'd storm out and you'd welcome him, proud to get what his wife wasn't getting anymore. And you were hell bent on making sure you'd keep him to yourself.

"Cum inside me....fill me up." You told him one day.

He was so lost in his lust for you he didn't think he'd hear you correctly. Giggling, you flipped the position so you were now on top of him, bouncing yourself on his enormous cock.

"I'll give you what your wife won't give you. Knock me up with your babies, fill me to the brim. I wanna carry your kids in me." You ran your hands down your chest and placed them on top of your stomach to get your point further across.

Seonghwa was going wild by this point. He had wanted to become a father for so long but his narcissistic and conceited wife would not budge. Yet here you were offering him the one thing he wanted and he couldn't resist. Sitting up, he began pounding up into you with more intensity, sending you crying his name over and over again as his teeth began to mark your neck.

"Oh I'll make sure to knock you up babygirl. Gonna fuck my kids into you...fuck! You're going to look even more pretty carrying my baby in you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yours and Yunho's relationship was rather.... unconventional to say the least. He ended up becoming your sugar daddy after you had auctioned off your virginity online cause you were a broke college student and you honestly didn't give a damn at that point. But it was you who were in for a surprise when you met him in the hotel room and he just handed you the money without wanting anything in return.

"Just take it and don't give away something so valuable away like that."

You were so stunned by his behavior and it honestly sent some weird feeling inside you.

"But what if I wanna give it away?" You asked before he could open the door to leave. He let out a deep sigh.

"Trust me, you don't." He insisted.

Biting your lip, you took in his height and built. You weren't going to lie and pretend you didn't size him up from the moment you saw him. He probably had a monster cock that could tear you apart and part of you wanted that. Plus he was probably experienced in making love to someone so why not?

"If it's with you I really do..."

He whipped his back at your words, about to scold you but his words got caught in his mouth when you began to strip in front of him before laying down on the bed, legs spread for him and anxiously waiting for him to touch you. He couldn't resist himself. He ended up pining your tiny and virgin body under him, tearing your hymen apart and claiming you as his. He made sure you were in no pain and he had you cumming more than once. You could say it was an amazing first time.

You spent the rest of the night talking, and you ended up spilling about your economic situation. Perhaps it was pity, perhaps he was high on having taking your virginity, or perhaps he truly felt something for you. Either way you agreed to be his sugar baby, and you don't regret it one bit. Not when you get to have his monster cock in you, and he's not complaining either when he gets to stuff himself in you.

"Fuck! You're still so damn tight my little one... just like the first time."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

He tried to ignore the sound of the shower right behind the door he was leaning in. He had to. He shouldn't try to imagine what was going on in there. But as his eyes closed, he couldn't stop picturing your naked body glistening as the water cascaded down your skin. His hand grazed over his erection, wondering if perhaps you were doing something similar.

Before he knew what he was doing, he slowly and quietly opened the door, the hot steam fogging up the glass doors to the shower but he could still make out your beautiful and young figure. He witnessed as your hand played with your clit, dipping inside your folds as tiny gasps and pants escaped your lips.

"Mr. Kang...." Hearing you murmur his name sent any self-control he had out the window.

He began to strip himself out of his clothes, very slowly and in silence so as to not disturb you. Besides you looked so pretty as you touched yourself, trying to get yourself off at the thought of him. Without taking his eyes off you, he slid the glass door and soon stood behind you in the luxurious and spacious shower. You jumped slightly when you felt familiar hands wrap themselves around your waist, fingertips digging into you. You could never forget his touch, you remembered how those hands felt when they once caught you and saved you from a nasty fall.

You knew it wasn't a dream or fantasy when you felt lips pressing open mouth kisses against the side of your neck and traveled down to your shoulders. You moved your hand away to allow the person behind you to take control, his long and slender fingers finally making your darkest fantasies come true as they penetrated inside you, moving back and forth in an effort to bring you into an orgasm.

Kang Yeosang's deep and husky voice breathed into your ear, sending shivers down your body.

"You don't know how long I've lusted after you..."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

With Choi San it wasn't you seducing him. It was letting him seduce you. Ever since he saw you walk in with your short skirt, applying for a part time job at his bookstore, he had been wanting you, craved your body. And honestly... you fed him in his game.

You would wear even shorter skirts, bending down right in front of him so he could get a glimpse at your scantily clad pussy. Or you'd constantly ask him for help in putting away some of the books that went on higher shelves just so he'd put his hands around you, which he'd often keep there longer than needed. And you loved it.

One day he had been frustrated by you past his limit. Throwing away all decorum, he came up behind you as you arranged some books. You let out a gasp when you felt his hands grope your breasts.

"I've been working you too hard my darling... maybe I should let you take a little break?" You became putty in his hands when he used his satoori tone with you.

You didn't stop him when he lifted your shirt up to your neck, nor when he pulled your breasts out from your bra cups. You just moaned with no shame as his fingers tweaked and pinched at your highly sensitive nipples.

"Fuck you have really soft and squishy boobs. It's like they were made for my hands."

Snaking one hand under your skirt, he was surprised to not only find out that you were practically dripping for him but you were not wearing any underwear that day.

"Shit darling, did you came here hoping I would fuck you?"

You threw your head back as he cupped your heat, rubbing at your clit.

"Yes! Please fuck me Mr. Choi! W-wanna get fucked by you." You begged him, pushing your ass behind you to grind against his very obvious bulge.

He was more than satisfied by your answer. Finally getting your consent, he no longer had to hold back. Freeing his cock which was leaking at the tip, he pushed your skirt up to expose your ass cheeks. Giving each of them a few slaps with his cock, he teased you as he rubbed his bulbous tip along your slit.

"Now my little apprentice, I'm going to show you how a real man fucks a little cunt like yours."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Spotting exactly what you were hoping to find for the night, you approached the older male and sat in front of him. Giving you a little glance, he furrowed his eyebrows as he took in your countenance.

"Aren't you a little young to be in a club like this?" He questioned you.

"Trust me, I'm old enough." You boldly took the glass he had in front of him and took a sip before setting it back down.

He let out a tiny chuckle as you practically drowned almost an entire glass of straight vodka. You had guts, he was giving you that.

"Little lady I'm sure there are more young men your age scattered about waiting for a beauty like you to pay attention to them. So why not go find them?" He suggested.

You frowned at him, a tiny huff coming out from your lips.

"Guys my age are all idiots and little babies. Absolutely nothing fun about them."

You scooted closer to him, your hand coming down to rub at one of his ridiculous thick thighs.

"I prefer men who are more older and..... bigger." You made emphasis on that last word.

The male snorted as he let you continue your little game. He was actually pretty amused and flattered at having a young and attractive girl hit on him.

"Little lady as much as I'd love to take you back to my place and fuck you into my sheets, I'm warning you that I'm into more.... risque and exotic pleasures and honestly....I don't think an inexperienced thing like you could handle it."

The man, whom you soon found out was named Song Mingi peeked your interest even more as he confided in you that little detail. And you were more than happy to indulge in extremely naughty kinks. That's how you ended up in his bed, your hands and feet tied to each of the bed posts, blindfolded, gagged, nipple clamps adorning your perky breasts as your older lover for the night was continuing his abuse on your swollen and red pussy, drawing out orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

"Fuck! Holy shit!" He cried out, grunting in an almost animalistic manner as he pumped his cum all over your body.

Removing your blindfold and mouth gag, he looked for any signs of regret but was instead met with your fucked out face that held a tiny grin.

"Older and bigger cocks are indeed the best."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Working as an exotic dancer, you met a lot of customers and got used to having regulars. But no one got under your skin or made you lose your senses like Jung Wooyoung. Usually you didn't give any special treatment to anyone unless it guaranteed more cash in your garter belt. But there was something about him that had you constantly looking over when he was there. Every time he was watching from the crowd, you made sure every wink, every lip bite or swirl of your tongue was directed at him.

You were thinking about giving up, since weeks passed and he didn't seem to make a move on you or on any of the other girls. Perhaps he was dragged there by his friends since he always sat there idly, no expression whatsoever. When you were told someone payed to have a private show with you, the last person you expected to see was none other than Jung Wooyoung himself, sitting on the couch, a glass of wine on his hand. Pulling out a large bill, he smirked at you.

"One hundred dollars if you take off that top."

His request had your legs wobbling. Since it was a rather fancy and elegant strip club, none of you ever actually stripped completely bare, only staying in scanty lingerie. But honestly, you didn't hesitate and let the top fall to the floor. You loved the way Wooyoung was eyeing your chest, tongue poking out to wet his lip. Reaching into his pocket once more, this time he produced even more bills and layed them on the table.

"500 dollars if you remove that lace thong."

Holy crap, you thought to yourself. That was a lot of money that you weren't going to refuse. And besides, you were already wet for the older man that you would suck him off right then and there if he asked you to, with absolutely no payment. This time his hand began to rub at his crotch. Unzipping his pants, he took his long length out which had your mouth watering and staring for so long that you didn't notice the even larger stash of cash he had taken out of his jacket which layed beside him.

"One thousand dollars if you hop your pretty ass over here and bounce yourself on my cock."

Not needing to be told twice, you practically plunged yourself down on him, not caring to take your time as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. The man underneath you was enjoying himself as well, the visual of your ass clapping against his hips driving him insane.

"Fuck! Yes! Just like that- oh god!"

You let out a yelp when his hand came down to slap your cheeks rather harshly, hips taking control as he rammed his cock into you. Through raspy grunts and growls, he made his final proposition to you:

"Your own place, monthly allowance and anything else you want if you leave this place and become my own personal fuck toy."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Working as the personal assistant for your father's CEO friend was not easy. Not because Choi Jongho was difficult, scary and begrudgingly agreed to have his friend's daughter work for him when she had no experience, but because the man was hot. You had the hots for your dad's friend and knowing you would have to be by his side for 8-10 hours on the daily both thrilled and terrified you.

"Can't you even work a simple printer? Seriously? How stupid could you possibly be?"

You honestly didn't mind his constant insults and degradation. In fact...that's exactly what you wanted, even more if he did it in front of others. Truth was, you did know how to work a printer and do other office related small tasks. You just chose not to just to have him yell and scream at you. His anger further fueled your sexual desires for him.

Eventually he ended up finding out what your little plan was when he chanced upon you sending a fax for someone, something he had always refrained from teaching you cause he thought you'd be too stupid to do.

"Why you cunning little vixen." He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he saw you, angry that a little brat like you was getting under his skin just to get a reaction out of him. He felt his palm start to tremble with an urge to bend you over and spank you into place.

Which he did end up doing, among other things in an effort to get you to behave or straighten up. But it never fully worked since you kept testing his patience, and he truly didn't mind. He liked your little game and he started to look forward to having his little vixen misbehave just to put her back in her place. And you lived for having him punish and degrade you.

"Look at you. You look like a common whore, letting me fuck her little hole as much as I want to."

You whimpered as his hand pulled your hair, making you lift your head and watch from the mirror as he fucked you from behind against his dresser.

"Maybe I should take a picture and send it to your dad. Let him know that his precious daughter is nothing more than a slut that likes getting her tight little hole fucked by his best friend."

You shook at his words, tears steaming down your face from the overstimulation he was putting you through. You absolutely loved it. Loved having him remind you of how wrong and sinful it was. Pressing your back against his chest, he wrapped an arm around your throat as he pounded his cock into you like the beast he was.

"But no... I won't do that. This will be our little secret."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #dilf!ateez

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jkstompers · 3 years

Text

noise complaints | myg

pairing: min yoongi x female reader

summary: yoongi is tired of his loud, video game addicted roommate, so he decides to move out and get his own apartment for some peace and quiet. but with his luck, gets you as his neighbor: a girl who plays bass in a band and hates the feeling of earbuds in her ears.

word count: 5.8k

genre: neighbor!au, producer yoongi, bassist oc, pwp ( ；∀；) i tried but rlly it’s just... smut

warnings: mature!! (18+!), explicit language, smut, making out, fingering, dom!yoongi, he’s a little mean

author’s note: hi!!!!!! in honor of yoongi’s birthday, i wanted to post this fic that i had sitting in my drafts! i hope u enjoy!! (´⌣`ʃƪ) pls let me know what u think!

banner pic creds here <3

yoongi doesn’t know how to tell his roomate, mark, that his gaming obsession has driven him to take extreme measures that consist of: moving out. he never stops playing video games. all day, all night, his eyes are fixed on the computer or tv screen, always screaming to his team mates about where to go or who’s fucking up. yoongi’s not sure if he can take it anymore.

he’s finally saved up enough to move into an apartment of his own, he’s been planning this for almost 6 months; already visited the apartment complex, discussed prices, background checks, etc. all yoongi really needs to do is finish signing the papers and start moving in.

he decides to just let mark know, no sugarcoat. as yoongi expected, mark practically begs on his knees for him to stay. his parents are paying for his share of the apartment but only if he splits the cost with a roommate, but yoongi’s gone through two years of it already, he’s over it. over the next few days, mark watches yoongi dejectedly as he packs his things.

by the end of the week, yoongi has finished packing and already signed the lease. he tells mark ‘good luck’ and leaves him in the dust, hopefully he’ll find another roommate, but that’s beyond yoongi’s concern now. all he has to worry about now is unpacking his boxes in his brand new apartment.

he looks around at the empty space, with the boxes cornered in one section. he smiles to himself, no noisy roomates, no unwashed dishes, no dirty laundry, ah, finally. peace and qui—

and that’s when he hears the blare of your speakers, it’s not loud enough for the entire complex to hear, but the music obviously bleeds through the shared wall. yoongi groans, knowing that this could be a complete repeat of mark. he’s not sure if he should knock on your door and ask you to lower the music down, it’s only his first day here. don’t you treat your neighbors with respect? why are you so loud?

yoongi decides to ignore it for now. he unpacks his things and starts furnishing the room so he can have a place to sleep for the night. when everything is put together, he feels the weight of the day; how much he’s been lifting and how he’s now renting an apartment hits him all at once. the dull pain resonates in his arms, his head starting to ache, and you’re still playing your fucking music. he can’t take it anymore, especially not with this ache getting worse.

yoongi feels his fist knock angrily against your door three times, he waits for you to open the door. except, he was not expecting a pretty girl to answer, he was expecting maybe an obnoxious frat guy; he’s absolutely flustered. you stand there and look up at him confused, “hi? did you need something?” your voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“i’m— uh, i’m your neighbor, i’m sorry to disrupt, but if you could just lower your music down a bit, i’m really tired, and—” he starts but a gasp of excitement leaves you, cutting him off.

“my neighbor?! that apartment has been empty for so long! i’m so sorry, i was just so used to no one being able to hear! welcome! i’m ___!” you greet him cheerfully, taking his hands into yours and shaking them. yoongi feels his cheeks turn pink, your hands are soft and you’re so pretty.

“my name is yoongi,” he replies, he stands there not really knowing how to respond to the way you’re so excited. he wishes he could reciprocate but his head is pounding, all he wants to do is sleep.

you pick up on his energy, letting go of his hands to wave him off, “i’ll turn the music off for today, get some rest, yoongi, if you need help, some sugar or something, you can always just knock on my door,” you smile.

yoongi nods, “thank you, ___, goodnight.”

“goodnight, yoongi! nice meeting you,” you reply, closing your door. you blush behind the door, a neighbor? a cute one at that? there’s a sudden rush of adrenaline pulsing through your veins, testing you, telling you to blast your music just so he could come back and you could look at him one more time. but you decide it’s better not to, he said he was tired, maybe tomorrow.

yoongi returns to his apartment, thankful that you kept to your word and kept the music off. his body drifts his pounding head to sleep.

two weeks had gone by before yoongi’s eyes, he spent most of it buying furniture since the apartment looked so bare. one upside to a loft apartment was that he didn’t have to buy too much furniture, a bed, a couch, a tv, and maybe a rug was enough for him, for now of course.

in the time that’s passed, he’s learned that you like playing music when you’re studying, cleaning, when you’re doing anything really. whenever he thinks it’s too loud, he knocks through the wall, you get the hint most of the time. he’s also learned that you can play the bass and that you’re in a band. speaking of that, you’re having a meeting with them right now, and yoongi can hear every word of it.

your band mates decided to barge into your apartment today, waking you from your study nap and telling you that you all need to practice. the volume of their voices is jarring, you never realized how loud you and your surroundings were until yoongi moved in. you’re suddenly conscious about your volume at all times, his knocks whenever you were loud always made you feel terrible, but you couldn’t help but blush whenever you thought of him. you were torn, be loud and get his attention or be quiet and get on his good side.

“___! grab your shit and let’s go!” jungkook shouts. he’s the guitarist and lead singer of the band; he gets impatient sometimes.

“oh just let her daydream for a little bit, she’s probably thinking about her hot neighbor,” seulgi teases. she’s the drummer and your best friend. you don’t let her comment pass so easily, but you try to ignore the way your face heats up.

“you think he’s hot?” you quip back. a smirk on your face as you zip your bass into it’s case. yoongi is surprised at the way he can hear your voices so clearly, he wonders if you guys always talk this loud or if the walls are really that thin. “you haven’t even seen him yet,” you lug your bag over your shoulder.

“he sounds hot.” she shrugs, taking a bite of the apple she stole from your fruit basket. jungkook grows more and more antsy the longer you both talk.

“where’s taehyung anyway?” you ask. the realization comes to you when you feel a missing presence, knowing your 4th member would say something about yoongi.

“how nice of you to finally ask, he’s been waiting in the car for you slow pokes, let’s get going.” jungkook rushes, pushing you and seulgi out of the door. you turn to lock the door when you hear the door to your left slide open.

“oh my god, jungkook look, he’s hot.” seulgi smacks jungkook’s shoulder to make him look. your eyes are glued on the figure standing outside of apartment 77.

“hi— hey, yoongi,” you greet him while locking your door. it’s embarrassing the way the three of you are all almost drooling at the sight of him.

“hi, ___,” he sends a small smile to you, looking over to your bandmates hesitantly. yoongi notices jungkook, an assumption is made in his head almost immediately, boyfriend?

you scramble next to them and introduce them, “yoongi, these are my bandmates, seulgi, she plays the drums, and jungkook, he plays guitar and sings, there’s taehyung too, he plays guitar too but he— he’s um, in the car.”

“ah, nice to meet you.” he nods, greeting them as well. “i actually have to get to work, but it was cool meeting you all,” he excuses himself. you all wave to him.

“way to be fucking awkward guys,” you scold them when you’re all walking to the car. taehyung looks up from his phone to see the three of you walking his way, he starts the car once you open the door.

“hey, not our fault he’s good looking,” jungkook shrugs and seulgi holds her hand up for a high five, which he gladly gives her.

“not fair! you guys got to see ___’s hot neighbor while i was stuck in the car? i knew i should have just came in,” taehyung grumbles, pulling out of the apartment complex’s parking lot.

“it just so happened that he was leaving his apartment the same time we were, maybe you’ll meet him too tae,” you rub his arm. a somewhat sarcastic tone in your voice. taehyung rolls his eyes, starting the drive to the studio.

the music in the car was overshadowed by taehyung and seulgi arguing about when you and yoongi would finally hook up. you had to remind them that he hasn’t even been here a month yet, and that you guys barely talk besides the small hellos and awkward run ins when you’re doing laundry. it seems to keep them quiet, taehyung parks in the lot and you all move into the studio, making your way to the practice room the owners thankfully let you use to rehearse.

a couple songs are played and you all vote for a break. taehyung and jungkook having a guitar battle, seulgi leaning back against the wall on her phone, and you, need to pee! you leave the room and use the bathroom as usual, but a familiar bleach blonde head turns the corner and starts to walk down the hallway towards you, the breath you’re holding turns into a gasp when you realize it’s him. “yoongi?! why are you here?”

he looks up from the ground, looking as surprised as you when he realizes you were talking to him, “i work here, why are you here? are you following me?” he grills, you scoff at the question.

“i’m with my band, we’re rehearsing,” you explain. he raises his eyebrows, you’re not sure what it means. “you don’t believe me?” you pose.

“it’s just a little suspicious,” he shrugs, yoongi knows exactly what he’s doing. he hopes his hint makes sense to you, he’s never really been good at flirting. a familiar feeling erupts in his stomach, one that people could call butterflies whenever he saw you. he really just wants to see you play, and to hear you sing, that’s what he wants the most.

“uh, i can bring you to them? i promise i’m here with my band,” you laugh, warmth spreading to your cheeks. there is no way in hell that you’re going to play in front of yoongi. you were confident sure, but your embarrassing crush on him will make your fingers shake when you try to press the strings down. it’ll be a shitshow!

“can i pee first?” his small laugh brings a smile to your face. boys pee fast, you’ve learned that over time, so yoongi doesn’t take long. you’re both walking back down the hallway, “your boyfriend isn’t angry that you’re with me?” the random question makes your steps stutter.

“i’m sorry, what? boyfriend?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare up at him, his face isn’t showing any sign of humor, he’s serious.

“you’re not dating one of your band mates? isn’t that how it usually goes?” his lips purse as you continue to walk to the room that your band is occupying, he’s so serious that it makes you laugh.

“oh my god, yoongi, i’m single as a pringle, they’re my best friends, our number one rule is to never date within the band, that’s how things get messy,” you explain. a weight is taken off of yoongi’s shoulders, it wasn’t his fault he thought of it; you’re beautiful and surrounded by people that probably want you as much as he does.

“oh,” he answers, you both turn the corner and approach the door, “good to know.” the door opens to your three members looking at the two of you with raised eyebrows.

“oh my god, it’s him,” seulgi points to yoongi with her drumstick. you wave your hand to signal her to put it down, ‘it’s rude!’ you mouth.

“are you yoongi?” taehyung asks, taking his guitar and putting it down on it’s stand. yoongi nods, holding his hand out to shake taehyung’s, which he doesn’t take. instead taehyung pulls him into a hug, yoongi doesn’t expect the sudden action of affection, his arms not knowing what to do. “it’s so nice to finally meet you! ___ talks about you a lot,” taehyung’s confession makes your face flush.

“taehyung! what the fuck!? i’ve talked about you like twice, yoongi, i swear,” you defend yourself, pushing taehyung off of him. you laugh awkwardly, yoongi shoots you both a gummy smile.

“nice to meet you, taehyung,” he completely ignores your defense. he finds it cute, your flustered face as you try to tell taehyung to shut up.

“anyways,” you huff. “yoongi thinks i followed him here, so i am showing proof that i’m actually here with you guys and not stalking him.”

your friends snort at the same time, “actually, yoongi, we have no idea who this girl is! i think she’s following you,” taehyung whisper-shouts, you smack his shoulder.

“no but really, ___ we were just gonna call it a day, seulgi said she has to go to a family dinner soon and taehyung said he was hungry,” jungkook speaks up. it’s then that you realize that their instruments were almost all packed. yoongi looks down at you, a small smile on his face once he realizes what they’re trying to do.

“i leave to pee for five minutes and you guys hatch a plan to ditch me?!” you cross your arms over your chest.

“well… we just told you, so, technically we didn’t ditch you, also i can’t drop you off, yoongi, you can drop her off, right?” taehyung smiles to him.

“i—“ yoongi starts but you cut him off with plans to scold your members. they knew exactly what they were doing and you weren’t having it.

“taehyung, you’re dropping me off, let’s not bother yoongi,” you move to pack your bass but yoongi shakes his head.

“i can drop you off,” he smiles.

“oh, see! perfect! thank you, yoongi.” taehyung grabs his hand and gives him a good shake, before you know it your members are out the door.

you sigh as you lift your case and sling it over your shoulder, “it’s okay, yoongi, i can walk.”

he rolls his eyes, “don’t be ridiculous, are you hungry? we can eat first.”

his hand is outstretched and you’re not sure what it means, does he want to hold your hand? but no, he’s asking for your bass, so he can hold it instead of you. you reject his offer, “i can hold it.”

“you’re really stubborn,” he notes. it makes you snort.

“you’re not into stubborn girls?” the joke slips from your mouth before you can think.

this is the perfect time, yoongi thinks. “if it’s you, maybe i’ll make an exception.”

you try your best not to show any type of reaction, but you can’t really ignore the way your heartbeat quickened. yoongi leads you to his car, putting your bass in the trunk as you get comfortable in the front seat. he follows you soon enough and is driving out of the studio parking lot.

“you don’t have to work?” you question. getting into the car of someone you barely know is quite risky of you, but he was your neighbor, and he was hot. that doesn’t give you a reason to trust him, though for some reason, you think you can rely on yoongi, it’s a gut feeling.

“technically i work all day, i’m on my own schedule, i basically spend the entire day in the studio,” he explains. his focus is on the road but from his peripheral he can see your body turned to him, and your eyes glued on him.

“workaholic?” you guessed, he smiles.

“you could say that.”

“that’s good then, i’m giving you a reason for a break!” you clap, your nervousness fading as you start to get comfy with yoongi.

a friendship blooms from that lucky, odd encounter that day.

you forgot how long it’s been since you officially met yoongi and spent the day with him, maybe two months? three months ago? you never kept track. but you do remember that things changed after that. the two of you so obviously flirting with each other whenever you had the chance. yoongi would offer you a ride to the studio, which you greedily took whenever he asked; because he was a cool guy to be with, and in all honesty you were trying to put the moves on him. you’re not sure if he’s taking the hints though, you’ve never been good at the shy type of flirting, most of the time you’re upfront.

speaking of being upfront: yoongi hasn’t really been complaining about your noise lately, and it’s been eerily quiet on his end. no knocks on the wall when your volume was a tad bit higher than usual, no texts telling you to ‘be quiet’ when you were practicing late at night, nothing. you figure it’s because the two of you have grown a lot closer. hanging out together and even making some inside jokes together type of close.

it’s soon that you figure out why yoongi hasn’t been upfront, complaining to you about your noise, because he talked to your apartment manager about it. you knew namjoon well, he was one of your classmates in college. his father originally owned the place, so he’s been taking over for him. you’ve grown close to namjoon due to situations that left you outside of your apartment multiple times without your keys. his master key saved your ass one too many times. so, when you received a letter from him in the mail this morning with a big red ‘important’ stamp on it. you knew you were in trouble.

the words noise complaints, your neighbor, and eviction were the only ones you needed to read for you to be stomping towards yoongi’s apartment. you didn’t care that it was ten in the morning and you’re banging on yoongi’s door. you knocked nonstop until he opened up. his sleepy face scrunched in confusion as he stood before you.

“___? what’s wrong?” his morning voice could have made you melt, if you weren’t so fucking angry. you step past him, moving inside his apartment. “okay, come in, i guess,” yoongi says as he shuts the door behind you.

“you complained about me?! i got a fucking letter from namjoon! he never sends letters!” you raise your voice. it’s too early in the morning to be yelling, your voice is a bit rough, it sounds like you’re croaking.

it’s also way too early for yoongi to be dealing with this, so his voice is soft when he says, “be quiet, we’re gonna get complaints from the other neighbors now too.” he walks up to you and your very angry expression. he just looks so kissable right now, it’s making you angrier. how could he look so perfect when you’re mad at him? that’s so rude!

you lower your voice when you ask, complying to his demand. you cross your arms over your chest, “why would you do that?”

yoongi laughs.

it makes your eyebrows furrow. was he not taking you seriously? you loved this apartment, you needed to live here. it makes the anger boil a little hotter. “you think this is funny, yoongi? i’ve—” your voice is raising once more.

this time yoongi rolls his eyes. “shut up.” his voice grew deeper than it already was, the bass traveling straight to your lower belly.

you try to act as if it had no effect on you, but your small silence before you spoke made things a little obvious. “excuse me? shut up?” you scoff. your feet carrying you closer to yoongi, breaking the distance in effort to intimidate. yoongi wasn’t one to be scared, if anything, he found it funnier.

but the way that your pretty face looks when you’re angry makes yoongi want to do more, wants to push and push because he can feel the tension between you both. you can too. “yeah, you’re so goddamn loud all the time, shut the fuck up.” he moves a little closer, the distance between you both is almost none.

it makes your eyes flicker to his lips. here you were, thinking that you were gonna teach yoongi a lesson, yet you want to kiss him. “want me to shut up?” your eyes move back to his, making eye contact. he licks his lips in anticipation. “make me,” you press.

you feel his soft hand against your cheek first, leading you to his lips. then it was the plush of his lips against yours. this feeling could definitely make you shut up. before you knew it, you were pushing yoongi over to his couch. he breaks the kiss to plop down onto the couch, you follow suit, straddling his lap.

“if you wanted to make out with me, you could have just asked.” you spoke before reattaching your lips.

he smiles into the kiss, “where’s the fun in that?”

the kiss deepens, tongues exploring each other’s mouths and small whimpers escaping your throat. they go straight to yoongi’s groin, you can feel his hard cock against your core through your sweatpants. instinctively, you grind down, the feeling makes him groan out.

his large hands move to your ass, running over them and trailing up to your waist. his hands sliding under your shirt, you know you aren’t wearing a bra, and yoongi finds out soon after. his thumbs running right over your hard nipples, “eager?” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “i’m just cold.” the lie makes yoongi scoff, tweaking your nipples between his thumb and index fingers. now, goosebumps raise over your skin, and it wasn’t because of the cold.

“take your shirt off,” he speaks against your lips. usually, you weren’t one to follow orders, your rebellious spirit screaming in your head, telling you to take control. but you’ve never wanted anything more than to let yoongi have you, let him do whatever he wants to you. because outside of this, he just seems so nice, never mean, never demanding. you can’t help but indulge in this new side of yoongi you’ve discovered.

so you’re taking your shirt off, the breeze created by his air conditioner makes you shiver, but yoongi's warm hands are there to comfort you. running them over your breasts, squeezing them just right as he kisses down your throat. “y-yoongi—” you whimper. his lips find a certain spot that has you grinding harder onto his dick.

“you aren’t very patient,” he speaks against your skin. “i’ll let it slide this time.” a tender kiss to your neck is placed before he lingers on the spot a little longer, sucking and licking, making sure to leave a pretty red mark. he makes his way to your nipple, wrapping his mouth around the bud and sucking. the feeling makes you throw your head back, his hand tweaks your other nipple, refusing to neglect it.

it was true, you were not patient. you hated waiting too long for something, just like how you hate the feeling of your warm core go uncared for. the grinding wasn’t enough at this point, you wanted more, needed it really. “are you gonna fuck me or not?” you push him gently off of your nipple.

an almost annoyed gaze is painted on his face, “are you going to beg?” he quirks an eyebrow.

you weren’t one to plead, “no.”

“then no,” he asserts. you purse your lips, complete dissatisfaction displayed on your face. “don’t worry, kitten, i’ll make you feel good.” yoongi gives in. he didn’t know how long he could hold back, your attitude makes him want to check you, make you cum as many times he wants you to until you’re obeying.

the nickname makes you drip. he’s pushing up from below, his leg kneeling onto the couch as he lays you down. your head lays against the pillow he has on the couch, yoongi gives you a swift kiss before he moves down, trailing kisses on the valley of your breasts and your stomach, stopping just before the waistband of your sweatpants. “yoongi,” you mewl.

“hm? wanna beg now?” he challenges. his fingers teasingly slipping under the band. your body reacts so easily to his touch, your hips slightly jerking up at the graze of his hands.

but you’re stubborn, not wanting to let yoongi win even though the only thing you want right now is for him to make you feel good. “no, never.” you shake your head.

yoongi doesn't verbally reply, instead, nodding and smirking to himself. “can i eat you out then?” he asks. you don’t trust your words, so you nod, knowing you’ll fall into the trap yoongi has set. “i need to hear you say it, kitten.”

“yes,” you quickly say.

yoongi quirks a brow. “yes, what?”

you roll your eyes, just once, you tell yourself. “yes, please.”

“good girl,” he praises. you hate to admit that you liked the way he called you a good girl. your sweatpants and panties are pulled down at the same time, revealing your wet pussy. “so pretty, baby.” he positions himself between your spread legs. you bite your bottom lip in anticipation.

kisses against your thighs and pubic bone are what he starts off with, then a brief kiss to your clit that makes you gasp. “oh, god—” you lean your head back against the couch.

“also, just to let you know, the letter was a joke,” yoongi breathes. mouth ghosting your lips, where you need him the most.

at first you didn’t pay attention to what he said, a hum leaving your lips until then you realized, “what?!”

“i thought it’d be funny to scare you a little bit, namjoon and i are friends, i asked him if he could do it for me.” he explains with a smile on his face.

you rolled your eyes. you knew it was too serious to be namjoon, his style was more so speaking, not letters. you couldn’t be mad at him, at least you weren’t in trouble. but you play it up for the fun, “will you make it up to me?” a sly look on your face.

“what do you want?” he leans his head against your thigh, waiting patiently for your answer. his fingers ever so gently running up and down your thighs.

“your cock,” you demand with a mischievous smile. your hands run through his hair, eyes pleading because you won’t allow your mouth to let the words out.

yoongi acts like he thinks about it, but all he truly wants, is to devour your and make you feel so good. “you don’t deserve it.” he denies you of the pleasure you want, but he surprises you, running his tongue along your slit.

“oh— oh, yoongi,” you mewl. your hands moving to play with your boobs, but yoongi knocks your hands away. he directs them to his hair, telling you to pull. his hands replace yours, playing and tweaking with your nipples as his tongue does the work.

“taste so good, baby.” yoongi loves the sight of you so vulnerable in front of him. you’re bare, naked while yoongi still has all his clothes on. he loves it. your eager body twitching from the ministrations of his tongue. he pulls away for a second, “don’t cum until i say so.”

“that’s not— umph!” you start but yoongi retracts his hands from your breasts, bringing them back to your thighs to spread them further apart. your lips reveal your sweet spot for yoongi to take, and he’s relentless. the taste of you on his tongue drives him crazy. “that’s not fair,” you moan out.

yoongi doesn’t care. he loves being in control. so when your phone starts to ring, yoongi thinks this is the best time to assert dominance. “answer it,” he commands. he pulls away from your pussy, the loss of the feeling of his tongue makes you groan out in displeasure. in turn, yoongi rubs his middle and ring fingers against your clit. it makes you gasp. he slips the fingers in, your walls pulsating against his fingers. another moan leaves your lips. you were completely ignoring the rings coming from your phone. he repeats himself, “answer the phone, baby.”

“but,” you spoke. your worry being that you were so wound up and yoongi’s fingers were still residing inside of you. you knew it would be way too obvious.

“they won’t know,” he assures. a gentle touch against your thigh comforting you, making you believe this was a good idea.

your fucked out brain obliges, your hand moving to reach for your phone. jungkook’s contact name displayed on the screen, you press the green button and place the phone next to your ear. “jungkook? what’s up?” you answer. yoongi’s eyes locked onto yours as you speak.

“speaker,” he mouths. you nod, mindlessly obliging. taking the phone away from your ear and pressing the speaker button. his fingers dangerously still in your pussy, ready to cause chaos whenever he felt like it.

“dude! guess fucking what!” jungkook shouts over the phone. yoongi pushes deeper, bottoming out his fingers. it makes your eyes roll back, a quiet gasp escaping your lips.

you’re moving the phone away so he doesn’t hear it, but yoongi is pushing your hand back into position. “what?” you cough, trying to cover the noise.

“you okay? you sound… weird.” jungkook snorts over the phone, you can hear seulgi and taehyung in the back, their bickering all too familiar.

“i— i’m good.” you nod even though he can’t see you.

“okay, well, this guy from a record label called earlier, he said he wants to take us all out to eat and talk about our future!” jungkook informs. your eyes widen. a record deal?! even yoongi reacts, a cute, surprised look on his face. how funny was it that you were receiving this news with yoongi’s fingers fucking you.

“you’re lying.” you sit up a little bit, leaning onto your forearm. yoongi decides to be nice, letting his fingers stay stagnant in your hole so you can enjoy the news.

“i’m serious! we’re on the way to yours right now to pick you up, be ready in five minutes,” he tells you.

“right now?!” you exclaim. yoongi smirks, starting to pumping his fingers in and out of you, making your breaths a little more labored. “oh— fuck,” you groaned, you tried to cover it up by making it sound like you were annoyed. but anyone could be able to tell what you were doing, the squelch of your pussy loud enough for the entire apartment complex to hear probably.

“what the hell are you—” jungkook starts but you cut him off, yoongi’s fingers moving faster and the string in your belly about to snap from the tension.

“okay, jungkook! bye! love you! see you in a bit!” you rush the words out and press the big red button to hang up, throwing your phone onto the floor as yoongi leans over you with a smile on his face.

“congratulations, baby.” he punctuates his sentence with a quick circle around your clit. you’re so wound up, you could feel tears starting to build up in your eyes.

“yoongi, please, please let me cum.” you beg, giving in to his desires. the sound of your begging is music to his ears. he smirks, quickening the tight circles around your clit. your legs spreading wider if that was even possible.

yoongi’s plans were cut short due to your new plans, but he didn’t mind. he was happy for you, and he’s never wanted to make someone cum as much as he does now. “alright, kitten, cum whenever you want,” he whispers in your ear. his fingers coated in your wetness gliding against your clit, it feels way too good. the string in your belly snapping as soon as he gave you permission.

you found yourself letting out some of the loudest moans because yoongi was just that good. “holy fuck, yoongi,” you gasp. your chest rises and falls quickly, taking in as many breaths as possible.

“good job, baby.” he kisses your neck, letting you recover before slipping his fingers out and bringing them up to your lips. at first you furrow your eyebrows, this isn’t something you usually do; but when he says, “open,” you find yourself obliging easily. “good girl,” he smiles as you suck your cum off of his fingers.

you pull his fingers from your mouth when you’re sure you’ve sucked them clean, “i got a record deal dinner, min!” you rush to put your clothes on. yoongi tries his best to help, but all he wants to do is give you a big hug. he lets you put your clothes on before he’s holding you in his grasp, while you’re trying to make your way to his door. the two of you wobbling to his door.

“let me kiss you first, rockstar.” he smiles, his hand gently taking ahold of your face and giving you a kiss. it tastes just like you, the sultry memory that will live in yoongi’s brain for as long as it’s able.

he tries to kiss you once more, but you’re pushing him away. “i gotta go, yoongi,” you giggle. his hands holding you close to him, your back pressed against his front door as you kiss each other sloppily. “yoongi!” you smile, more laughs erupting as he helps you open the door. as soon as the door slides open, yoongi’s eyes move behind you, a sly smile on his face.

you turn to see your three band mates, all of their mouths agape. “i fucking told you! pay up, idiots!” seulgi smacks the both taehyung and jungkook’s shoulders.

your face blushes tomato red. you try to hide your face as you open your apartment door. before you turn the key, you hear yoongi congratulate the four of you. “good luck at your label meeting! make sure they don’t scam you,” he advises. your bandmates laugh, thanking yoongi and moving into your apartment. they don’t let you live down the embarrassment for the entire night.

when you come back home, you sit on your couch. a smile taking over your face when you think about how great the day was. you think the dinner went perfect, and when you hear a knock on your door, it has you rushing to open it.

yoongi stands outside your door with a cupcake and a single lit candle stuck in it. “congratulations!— it went well right?”

you stand in front of him, a sweet smile on your face as you nod. “i think they loved us,” you pull him into your apartment.

“of course they did! you guys are amazing!” yoongi hugs you, holding the cupcake above your head so it doesn’t get in your hair.

the rest of the night you and yoongi enjoy each other’s presence and the two of you talk about everything and nothing.

yoongi says the cupcake is just for you, but you take a knife and split it, “for us.” you give him a quick peck before eating your half, and then kissing him once more.

for us. it repeats in yoongi’s mind.

us.

yeah, he’d like that.

496 notes · View notes

erule · 3 years

Text

The frat party | t.h.

Title: The frat party

Pairing: Frat boy!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1823

Warnings: frat boy Tom, angst, nakedness (nothing sexual though, no smut in this chapter), mention of sex, implied smut, cliffhanger at the end, jealous Tom, language, OC Oliver, violence (one punch), blood, plot twists.

Summary: Tom and the reader met at a frat party, but a year later they broke up because of some reason. Now, rumor has it that the reader is dating one of Tom’s friends and he gets jealous.

A/N: Hello hello, I’m back! Have you seen Tom’s recent pics in Monaco?? He looked amazing! Anyway, I don’t know why, but I just had to write a fic with frat boy!Tom, so enjoy!

If you wanna be tagged in my Tom Holland fics, just let me know in my ask box! You can also find me on AO3 and Wattpad. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer!

Main Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

Peter Parker Masterlist

Chapter 1

Break up with my ex girlfriend

Frat parties. Am I right? Worst part of college life. A lot of people drink to forget about their grades and how their lives went wrong, while someone’s just hoping to have some fun with them (if you know what I mean). For the first year, I hated them with passion, but it was before I met him. At a frat party. Oh, the irony! And then, frat parties were the only chance I had to actually talk to him. It didn’t take us long enough to start dating. I think that adults tell you fairy tales to make you grow up with a hope, the hope to find your real happy ending, your true love. Well, I wasn’t used to believe in them, but the year I spent with Tom… that was close to the definition of happy ending. The problem with happy endings? They don’t tell you what happens after them. And that’s because they’re a nightmare.

“Tell me that now or you’re not gonna find me in this bed tomorrow”, he says and there’s a part of me that wants to die right here and right now. I shake my head. I don’t want to do that. Not because I don’t feel anything for him, but I’m scared that this will complicate things between us and it’s the last thing I want. “Are you serious, Y/N? You really think that saying something like that during sex doesn’t count? Calling someone on the phone means something, even if you’re drunk as Hell. So tell me what you really feel about me right now or I swear, I’m out of this room. I’m out of this kind of weird relationship that’s going on between us for years,” Tom says and the veins on his arms draw a beautiful map on his body, in which the moles are cities and his eyes are volcanoes. They’re burning, unlike my skin, that is freezing because I’m not wearing anything at the moment. Except for my shame, perhaps. My insecurities, that never leave me. Even in front of Tom.

“You don’t mean that,” I try to say, my mouth dry. But he’s insanely angry. In another situation, it would be hot.

“I do, Y/N,” he replies. I swallow. His expression softens, like he’s in pain. He comes closer to me, brushing my cheeks with his hands. My eyes are full of tears. His words feel like a prayer on my skin. “Please, tell me”.

And even if I don’t wanna do that, my hands are tied. Even if that’s a lie. I remain in silence. One second after that, he’s gone. Tom always keeps his promises, after all.

2 months before

Harrison sat down with a strange look on his face. It only meant one thing for Tom: trouble. He sighed, throwing away the third cigarette of the day. Jacob raised an eyebrow, trying to get rid of the stench of smoke with one hand.

“I thought you wanted to quit smoking,” Jacob said.

“Relax, I only smoke before finals now,” Tom said. “What’s up, mate? Come on, talk”.

Harrison raised a corner of his lips in a smirk.

“Rumor has it, that Oliver’s got a girlfriend,” he said.

“No way!” Jacob exclaimed.

“Oh, fuck me,” Tom said, laying on the grass with his hands behind his neck, glancing at a couple of girls who were passing by.

“I haven’t said the best part yet, though,” Harrison continued. Jacob urged him to speak further. “He’s gonna throw a party for his birthday and he’ll introduce her to his friends. But since we’re his friends, I was wondering why I haven’t told us anything about this gal in weeks. So I played Sherlock Holmes for a couple of hours and I found out that… we actually know this girl,” he said.

“I bet she’s someone of the campus,” Tom joked, as if it was obvious.

“I bet she’s someone’s ex girlfriend,” Jacob replied.

Harrison remained quiet, but he was smiling.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Tom said, astonished, while sitting on the grass again.

“I won!” Jacob yelled.

“Who’s she? I hooked up with…”

“Ex girlfriend, Tom. It’s not some random girl you hooked up with. She’s someone you remember very well,” Harrison said.

“So we’re talking about me, uh? Well, let’s see… is it Janine? We lasted two weeks, I wouldn’t be mad about her,” he shrugged. Harrison swallowed.

“It’s someone you would be mad about,” Jacob guessed. “And there’s just one person that you would be mad about”.

Tom’s eyes widened at the realization.

“He’s fucking dead”.

Two days after that conversation, here they were: the three of them were laying with their backs on the wall like they were sustaining it from falling down. Tom had threatened Oliver with a Dare to explain, mate?, but his answer was just an I’m sorry Tom, but she’s just your ex. I don’t have to ask for your permission. Or does this mean that you’re still not over her? So, since Tom values too much his pride, he said that he was over her and that Oliver was right, he didn’t have to ask for his permission. Oliver apologized for not telling him that before and then walked away, leaving Tom to smoke the whole pack of cigarettes. Tom was watching Oliver talking with Elizabeth, one of your friends, when he saw you and Zendaya arrive at the party. In his opinion, you were stunning. You immediately caught his gaze. You just never failed to amaze him, even after a year. His heart ached at the view, but it ached even more when you greeted Oliver. You gave him a kiss on his cheek, clenching your hand in a fist. It seemed like you were uncomfortable. So, he came up with a plan to save you.

“Wait for me here,” he said to his friends, then he walked fast to reach you. “Hey mate, happy birthday!” Tom said to Oliver, who hugged him.

“Thanks, Tom. I think that you already know Y/N, Lizzie and Z,” he said and you smiled along with your friends, even if you looked more surprised than happy.

“Of course, I do,” Tom said, looking directly at you. You looked down. “Could I please talk to Y/N? We haven’t been in touch for quite some time and I’d like to catch up with her,” he asked.

“Sure!” Oliver said, while Zendaya seemed looking at you with a concerned expression. You winked at her.

Tom made you move away from Oliver by brushing your back, walking to the next exit. He lowered his voice in order to talk with you only, speaking to your hear: “You look ravishing, darling”.

He noticed that you closed your eyes for a very long second, but you didn’t say a word about that.

“Are you here to show that you still own me or something?”

“I don’t own you, darling. You’re absolutely free to do anything you like,” he said, lighting a cigarette outside the building.

“Z said you wanted to quit smoking,” you said, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I only smoke before finals”.

“Finals were yesterday,” you replied.

“Are we here to talk about me or you? I noticed that you were uncomfortable with Oliver, but I thought that you were his girlfriend. Wouldn’t it be weird?”

You smirked.

“Oh, now I get it. You’re jealous”.

“Nah, If I’d be jealous, you would know, trust me,” Tom said, with a playful tone.

“What would you do?” You asked, curiousity eating you alive. You wanted to know so bad if he still had feelings for you.

“Don’t play with fire, darling. You’re gonna burn your pretty hands, otherwise,” he replied, running a finger over his lip. Shivers ran through your spine, but you hoped that Tom didn’t notice it.

“Don’t try to seduce me, Holland. You’re not gonna win this time,” you said, chuckling. “And for the record, we’re not dating. He’s just insistent,” you explained.

Tom looked inside and saw Oliver staring at the two of you. An idea came up into his mind and he couldn’t quite get rid of it. It was smart, but also terrifying. It was very dangerous, yet he had to try.

“We could be in a fake relationship. It could fool everyone,” he proposed.

You turned to look at him, astonished.

“Even after what happened?”

Tom’s eyes were locked with yours, but his facial muscles didn’t move at all. If he still was hurt by the reason that made you two break up, he didn’t show it to you.

“He’s coming here,” he said instead, glancing at Oliver.

“Tom, this is insane,” you kept going. “You said you couldn’t forgive me after…”

It happened all too fast. All the lights went out at the same time. Tom's lips were on yours in an instant. Everything was on fire, every inch of your body. Every cell your flash was made of exploded like a dying supernova. A moment later, someone snatched him from your hands, leaving you in the cold.

Oliver hit him. Tom laughed, nervously, but then he grabbed the collar of Oliver’s shirt and slammed him against the wall, angrily. You pounced on Tom, trying to pull him away from Oliver. At first, Tom looked at you confused, thinking that you just wanted to keep Oliver safe from him, but your eyes told him another story: you prevented him to be kicked out from the campus.

“I told you, you’d know,” he said, while wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth, pretending to be the tough guy he wasn’t.

“Guys, I think we should leave,” Jacob said, while Harrison was taking Tom away from Oliver by his arm.

“I thought we were friends, Tom,” Oliver said, an inch of hurting in his voice tone.

“That was before you came after the only thing I care about,” he said harshly. And then, he left with Harrison and Jacob.

That night, while Tom was cleaning himself of blood in the bathroom, Jacob was staring at him worried, while standing with one arm against the door jamb.

“You never told me what happened, you know, with Y/N last year. Haz doesn’t want to tell me, he thinks it’s up to you. You said that you were over her, but I don’t think you are, since what you did tonight,” he said. Tom kept wiping away the blood from his shirt, ignoring Jacob’s words. “Why have you broken up with her, Tom? It seems pretty obvious that you’re still in love with her”.

Tom gulped, while looking at himself in the mirror. He had tried to bury all of his memories deep down, but it seemed that now the demons wanted to come back and play with him once again. Maybe it had finally come the time to confront them.

When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse: “Because she cheated on me”.

Read chapter 2 here!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #frat boy tom holland fanfiction #frat boy tom holland #fratboy!tom holland #frat boy tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland ff #tom holland imagine #tom holland headcanon #tom holland hc #erule's masterlist #peter parker x reader #tom holland

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whenwordsmakesense · 3 years

Text

For Suptober21, Day 5: Nostalgia

Doing this thing (@winchester-reload)

Moodboard by me (@fanfics-fix (Main Blog)).

All pics taken from Pinterest.

Quotes ("Death is eternal, is it not?" & "And yet I live. Because you found me, anchored me, even in Hell.") by me.

Accompanied ficlet also by me. Will also be posted later on AO3. Read on AO3.

Title: Pain Bleeds Into Hope

Tags: Post Canon, AU - Canon Divergence, Guilty Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word Count: 957 words

Summary: Dean wonders about something from his past.

--- READ BELOW ---

It's a little morbid, how they met. Heat and fire and pain, is what comes to mind when Dean thinks about it—that first utterance of his name while he was lost in the screams of his own torture, unable to move in the endless space provided for him. He doesn't even really remember someone saying his name, but Cas says he had called out Dean's name, and Cas can say the sun is blue and he'll believe it.

He'll always believe him. It's been an uphill battle, since the whole crazy Cas thing a few years ago, to be able to come to this moment, but Dean's always been a fighter or so everyone says.

"Dean?" He turns around at the voice; the familiar way Cas says his name, with a gentle care to it like he's still unsure of his grasp on English, with a love that comes crashing, bolting at Dean, always makes him smile, and he does so now. Smiles at Cas as his angel smiles back, tilts his head at the newspaper in Dean's hands. "Sam said there's nothing of note in it,"

"There isn't," he agrees. There's nothing of note on this particular piece of paper, but Dean has latched onto the part where it talks about a birthday bash gone awry—just another shitty day in the world—and it's been a revelation to realize that he hasn't once asked Castiel if he wants one. A birthday. It's not that he can actually have one, but the celebration of a new life entering the world—even if in this case it's about Cas entering the human world, his world—is something Dean wants Cas to have.

He isn't really sure what day that would be, though. And hence the trip down memory lane; it's not easy, to think about then. It brings back memories he'd rather forget, a slew of wrongdoings that itch at him, make his heart pound and limbs sweat with the intensity of his guilt. Pain is a constant in his life, he's accepted it. There would be guilt, too, and there is; he isn't a hero, not when he has cost too many lives over easily dismissed 'mistakes' or 'you did your best', but the guilt of that time is different—it is more in the way that Dean meant to harm them, the others.

It's too much for him, but he's braved worse things just to see another day.

He blinks, focuses on the warmth seeping on the small of his back from Cas' hands, even through the t-shirt he's wearing.

"Cas, do you-do you remember?"

Cas' voice is curious, "I might,"

"When you saved me. Gripped me tight and raised me from perdition and all that jazz,"

There's a silence. Curiosity has turned into confusion, and Dean chuckles at Cas' predictable patterns of human emotions.

He turns, lets the newspaper drop on the table, and looks in those blue eyes that have been his oasis in the chaos of his life for way too long, yet not long enough. Lets his hands rest on Cas' hips, pulls him close, their faces so close that each breath they pull in can be felt on the other's face.

"I was wondering, I don't even know why but. Just humor me." He says when Cas simply raises an eyebrow at him. Dean doesn't wonder about things a lot, and if he does it is rare that he shares them—without prompting at least.

"Always," Cas says solemnly, like it's a promise, and Dean knows that it is.

It makes his heart flutter in ways no middle-aged man's should. But Cas has always made him do things that shouldn't be possible; the fact that he is alive right now is just one of the many examples.

He tells Cas about his thought process—how Cas should have a birthday, how Dean wants to give him one, and how it made him go down the memory lane.

"So, I just, you know. Started thinking how the way we met is kinda morbid, but also really cool. You literally saved me from Hell,"

Cas gives him a quick smile. "Dean, we just went to see Rowena last weekend. In Hell,"

Dean throws his hands up, laughing, and Cas grins. "Who would have thought? Our life is crazy, man,"

They sober up then, and Cas pulls Dean close again, because he'd wound up a bit away in his hysterical excitement over the life he leads.

"The way we met," Cas starts, and Dean moves one of his hands from Cas' hips to his hands, intertwines their fingers together. "That could be seen as morbid, a bad memory, but that's not how I see it."

"Then how do you?" Dean can guess. And he is right.

"Like it's the best day of my existence. Dean, that day, I met you. Granted, the circumstances were not ideal, but it happened and we can't change it. But I like it anyways."

Dean kisses Cas, and when he pulls away, Cas trying to chase his lips, says, "You're such a sap,"

"Is it such a bad thing?"

"Nope, definitely not," Dean says, and he means it.

The whole thing might have been traumatic as- well, hell, but in the end he is here, with Cas in his arms. What more he could he hope for?

Maybe to be together even after death. But when they met because he was dead, that particular wish actually sounds less like a wish and more like any other in the week.

Not to mention the fact that his son is the literal God now.

Yeah. He isn't going to be anywhere but at Cas' side for all of eternity.

#suptober21 #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #supernatural #okay so i do not write spn much but i figured why not? hope they're not too ooc here #this is a q #now on ao3!

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

jake and amy telling each other to “stay safe” hc

He’s lying in his own bed for the last time in what might be a very long time, he thinks. He should probably enjoy it more. But all he can think about is how he messed up, how he probably destroyed the best friendship he has with his stupid feelings and stupid confessions. How she’ll never look at him the same, and he knows that the new look on her face will not be one of fondness or longing, but rather pity. Maybe even distaste. If she will even look at him again. Maybe she’ll have transferred out of the precinct or moved up in the ranks when he gets back, and he’ll never get to see her again, their last memory being an awkward stare off on the streets without her giving an answer and him running off before she could try.

His phone on the bedside table pings while he’s wallowing in self-pity, and the dorky picture of her eating the greasiest kebab sends a far more painful jolt into his stomach than usual. It pings again, and then once more as he opens the text app.

- Hey, you will probably turn off or hand in your phone tomorrow, so I hope you’ll still get to read this tonight

- Stay safe

- please.

-*-

She wraps him in the tightest hug he’s ever felt from her tiny frame, and that says a lot, because he knows the strength she hides very well. His arms still hurt from their awkward angle of being bound to a chairback, and his mind is still racing through the What If’s of Rosa and Amy not finding him and Hoytsman in time. But she’s hugging him, and he can hide his face against her shoulder for a moment to ignore the real world even as Rosa reads Hoytsman his rights.

“You’re safe.” She whispers into his hair, repeatedly. “Thank god you’re safe. I’m so sorry, Jake, we shouldn’t have left you behind, we should have listened-”

“It’s okay. Ames. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“He was going to- he-” She must’ve seen his ‘suicide video’ notecards behind him as he can feel her grip around his shoulder tighten in shock.

“I’m fine.” He repeats again, looking up from her shoulder to give her a reassuring smile. “I’m safe. You saved me. I knew you would.”

She swallows hard and nods, and for a blissful moment he thinks she might actually kiss him as she stares at his face. But then Rosa shouts something at them, and she lets go of him entirely to untie his arms, and despite wanting to be freed for hours now, he really wishes the moment had lasted just a second longer.

-*-

He could probably think of a million better ways to spend the day after New Years, nursing a slight hangover, while he pushes the still swearing and ranting gang boss they finally arrested into the back of the cop car. He hands the keys over to Charles, and thankfully his best friend understand his tired eyes and lets him conk out on the passenger seat.

They’ve been trailing this weasely fucker for over a week now, and were so excited to tell everyone in the bullpen when their CI finally brought back an adress. He didn’t even bat an eye when Rosa warned them that she recognised it as one of the most popular gathering spots for a whole load of unsavoury people.

He pulls his silenced phone out of his pocket while Charles drives, and notices several messages waiting for him. Amy’s profile pic, smiling over a cup of hot chocolate on her couch with silly reindeer antlers on her hed and a christmas sweater on, glows at him as he reads through them. She’s still antsy when he goes out without her, the whole real life Die Hard situation this christmas stuck in the back of her mind, and makes sure to check in on him via phone far more regularly than before. Half of the texts start with “I know you won’t read this cause your phone’s on silent, but...”, and the other half is filled with “please be careful, remember what Rosa said” variations. The last ist from a mere 15 minutes ago, and it’s the shortest one.

- Are you safe?

He smiles as he types an answer.

- All good. booked the guy. back 2 precinct now, thn ur place?

It doesn’t even take a minute before he gets a reply.

- yes please

He’s sure he’s the luckiest guy in the world, remembering their first Happy New Year kiss as a couple from yesterday, dreaming of many more to come.

-*-

Her face is streaked with tears, and his eyes are probably equally red, after they’ve spent their last half hour together crying and holding each other as close as physically possible.

The marshall is standing outside the door, and has knocked twice already, so Amy stands on her tiptoes for one last kiss that he never wants to end.

“You’ll be safe.” She whispers, reassuringly. “Wherever they take you - you’ll be safe - that’s what’s important.” He’s not sure if she’s trying to make him believe that, or herself, but he only nods.

He wants to promise her he’ll stay safe, but he can’t lie to her face, and he’s already decided that he’s going to do his own investigation into Figgis as soon as the FBI handlers are gone. Because there’s no place in the world where he’ll feel safe if she isn’t there with him, and if it risks his safety to get back to her, then so be it.

“You weren’t safe.” She scolds him six months later, lying on the bed of a cheap hotel room somewhere in Florida, staring at his face that is so familiar despite how long she hasn’t seen it.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, half asleep already. “Was my own fault.” And his face softens into that unbelievably young look he has when he’s falling asleep, but it’s mixed with worry lines now, with grooves around his mouth that weren’t there before.

She scoots over to slip into his arms, which he happily opens for her, pulling her tight against him even in the heat and with his leg wrapped and elevated against the pain. She presses a kiss to his sleep-pouting lips, and it feels perfect again, just the way it should. He smiles with his eyes closed.

“Worth it, though.” He whispers before finally falling asleep.

-*-

“You’re safe.” She says, and she’s probably repeated it more than ever before in the last few minutes. “You’re safe. You’re in our apartment. It’s only us here. You’re safe.” She repeats once more while he clings to her like a drowning man to a raft, shaking and shivering and sobbing into her shoulder. She has a hand in his hair, stroking softly, the other on his back to hold him close, and she hopes her racing heart doesn’t upset him any more than he already is.

He woke up screaming tonight, instead of just bolting awake from nightmares like the nights before. Screaming and begging someone to stop. It took all her strength to keep him from jumping out of the bed, and shake him fully awake until the shouting stopped. He’d looked through her with wild eyes, and then they filled with tears as he pressed back down into the mattress and into her.

“You’re safe.” She swipes through his hair. “You’re with me. I’m here. No one else.”

He calms down, slowly but surely, his sobs turning into quiet whimpers before his breath even outs, and he lifts his head from her shoulder to blink at her with red-rimmed eyes, but there’s no more wildness or fear in them, luckily.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles and looks down, away from her.

“There’s nothing you need to apologise for.” She strokes across his cheek, hot and damp from his tears.

“This is- a lot. It’s going to be a lot.” His voice is raspy. “It’s okay if it’s too much for you.”

Her heart clenches, and the hand on his cheek becomes stronger as it lifts his head up to face her.

“I told you I’d wait 15 years, and you think now that I got you back, I’m going to leave?”

His eyes wander over her face, and they’re shining with so much emotion she can’t decipher all of them.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jake. No matter how much it’ll be. I’ll keep you safe.” She leans forward to kiss him softer than she ever has, and he grabs the wrist of her hand still on his face, his fingertips stroking over her ringfinger as he thinks about the little box hidden away at Gina’s place.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet

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purpletaecup · 4 years

Photo

5 ☾ i don’t want you to hurt me anymore

note: fully written chapter this time! no social media pics, but in this chapter, we see a little bit more of yoongi and yn’s relationship, or at least the bit of it when they fell apart. it’s sad. :-( once again, not edited lol.

note 2: feel free to message me about the story, or ask my characters anything hehe. my account is also open to fake text requests/imagines <3 i’m bored these days lol

word count: 2,627

At the doctor’s surprising news, both Yoongi and Jungkook froze. Yoongi did not know what to say, so he turned to the spot next to him, only to realize that Jin, who had left to go to the nurse at the reception, was not there. He didn’t know how to react, especially when Jungkook was the one standing by him right now.

Jungkook himself was much more confused than he looked. He looked at Yoongi questioningly. How were you pregnant when he knew that your relationship was on the rocks before your divorce even happened? He thought the worst case scenario and blurted it out without thinking.

“She cheated on you?” He asked.

Yoongi and the doctor both turned to him in shock at his question.

Yoongi furiously shook his head. “No, she couldn’t have.” The silence after that was deafening.

“How far along did you say she was?” He turned to the doctor.

The man looked scanned through his clipboard again to make sure he had the right timeline.

“We estimate that she’s about two months along.”

2 months. That’s around the time they were completing the divorce procedures. Yoongi tries to think back on how you could have ended up pregnant. Your started becoming distant some time around August when he was getting closer and closer to Yura. Your intimacy lessened as time passed, but he knew that you couldn’t have cheated on him. What had happened in the beginning of September?

After a minute or two, his eyes widened after he finally realized what happened between them that was most likely the conception date for the pregnancy.

He remembers a warm night in the beginning of September, where he came home late and you were waiting on the couch with a finished wine glass on the table.

Flashback

By the time he had gotten home, it was obvious that you were drunk and the drunk you had a lot of words to say. He couldn’t really tell what you were saying because you started crying as soon as the words came out of her mouth, but he knew that you were upset at him. So upset that you had broken down on the floor sobbing. He’d knelt down on the floor and cupped your cheeks and lifted your face up to meet his. Your eyes were bloodshot and teary and all he heard from you at this point were sniffles and sobs.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?” He asked, wiping the tears falling down her cheeks.

Those words had only made you cry harder.

“Because you don’t love me anymore.” You cried out in between sniffles.

The look on Yoongi’s face was a mixture of shock and hurt, but you couldn’t tell why. You were the one who was hurt, so why was he showing you a face like that?

“No, no, no baby. Who told you that? Why would you ever think that? I love you so much.” Yoongi had said to you as he desperately tried to wipe the tears that continued to flow from your eyes.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? You don’t love me anymore and you’re with that girl from your company. You take her to all of your parties, you take her to dinners with your friends. You don’t have me in your heart anymore. Your friends don’t like me. Especially Jungkook. I don’t even know why. I’m sure even your parents don’t like me. Why do you guys hate me so much? Why does God hate me? Why would he do that to me? Am I not enough? Am I not worthy of receiving any sort of fucking love in this life?” At this point, you were practically yelling. Your lungs burned from crying and talking so much but you couldn’t really tell because the alcohol made you focus on your tears and dizziness and the man in front of you instead.

Yoongi’s eyes softened, then his brows furrowed, as if he was confused. What was there to be confused about? He hurt you, but he looked like he was the one who was hurt in this situation.

“Why do you look like that?” you asked. “Why do you look like you’re the one who got your heart broken when I’m the one who’s waiting at home for you and you don’t even have the decency to tell me where you are, or who you’re with or what time you’re coming home. Why do you get to fucking look like you’re hurt when I’m the one who has to watch you and all your fucking friends and family swoon over that woman. I’m your wife! And all I can do is sit at home and wait for you to fucking care about me. This is not how I want to live, Yoongi. I don’t deserve to be hurt like this. Not after what happened. Please, I’m so tired. It hurts so fucking much, Yoongi. Why are you doing this to me?” The crying only continued until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Yoongi pulled your form into a tight hug, and held you like it was his dying wish. You didn’t know if you heard it properly but you thought he was crying. And he was. There were tears in his eyes because he knew that what you were saying was valid. Extremely. And he couldn’t really refute it because it was true, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t love you.

He stroked your hair until you calmed down a little more and that’s when he finally got a word in.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that you had to go through that. I love you so much that it hurts my heart when I think about not having you in my life. You’re my everything and you were with me from the start, of course you have a place in my heart. You own it. I’m sorry I made you feel that way but please don’t ever doubt my love for you. Yura, she’s nothing. She’s just my friend. And you said you didn’t want to go to the parties. Jungkook and Yura are friends and they get along so that’s why I bring her. She’s become one of my closest friends but that’s just what she is. A friend. I love you, not her.”

You and Yoongi both know that he wasn’t being truthful, but you let it be because he was saying things you wanted him to say. He was reassuring you of his love for you, and even if it wasn’t true, it still gave you some temporary relief.

He put his face on the crook of your neck and muttered a million ‘sorrys’ before you moved to put your hand on his back.

“You hurt me. I don’t want you to hurt me anymore, Yoongi. I love you so much that it makes me hate myself. You made me suffer so much these past months.”

“I know, baby, and I won’t do it again. I love you so much. I’ll try harder, okay? I’ll go home earlier and I won’t go to the parties anymore. I don’t want to give up on our marriage. I want to be with you.”

The night of crying and venting out the hurt and shame and tears had ended in the both of you tangled up in bed all night, probably making up for the pain that was caused. Yoongi didn’t remember much of that night because it hurt him to think about it, but of the amount of times you had made love that night under the moonlight, one of them undoubtedly got you pregnant. He never used protection with you and that was only because he knew you were on birth control, but he had never thought about you getting pregnant, especially not after the fact that it was only a week and a half later when his lawyers brought the divorce papers to you.

End flashback

Being reminded of that night made Yoongi feel queasy. In his heart, he knew that he had told you that truth when he said he loved you and that he wanted to save your marriage, but he was tired. And you were growing distant. Both of you. He could never bring you out anywhere and you always got mad when he went with someone else, or when he was with Jungkook. Yura was there and she was so nice and bubbly and happy, and being with her made him happy. Though you both tried, the arguments increased and his frustrations bubbled until he finally decided to tell his lawyer to draw up the divorce papers.

Yoongi snapped back to the present and looked up at the doctor.

“Yeah, two months sound about right. How is she doing? How is the baby doing?” He asked.

“The fetus is doing pretty well considering the accident. We’re surprised she didn’t suffer a miscarriage because of the impact of the crash, but I guess this can be considered a miracle. To reiterate, Miss y/n is okay, just suffering from a head wound and multiple lacerations and bruises. For the next couple of days, bruises might become more prominent. We’ll be doing MRIs to check on brain activity, especially because of her head wound. Just to check if everything is okay. We don’t know how long she’ll stay unconscious for, but we’re hopeful that she’ll wake up within a couple of days, a week at most.” The doctor stated.

Yoongi nodded absentmindedly. He was quiet for some time until Jungkook spoke up.

“Are we allowed to see her?” He asked.

The doctor nodded. “Yes, you can see her. I think they’ll have wheeled her into her room right now. You can just go through that door. It’s a hallway that winds around so you’ll end up on the other side. I believe she’ll be in room 3. We only allow one visitor to stay overnight.”

“Ok, thank you so much, sir. We’ll wait for her cousin first before going to see her.” Jungkook stated.

“Thank you, doctor.” Yoongi said with a small but dull smile on his face. He truly was thankful. He didn’t know if he would have ever known that he would be a father if it wasn’t for this accident and the doctor. As sick as it sounds, he was somehow grateful that he was your emergency contact.

“It’s no problem at all. Since you are her emergency contact, we will be updating you on her progress and if anything should happen, but right now, things are looking up. Don’t worry too much. She’s alive and so is your baby. It’s a miracle.” The doctor smiled at Yoongi before waving goodbye.

Yoongi and Jungkook sat back down on the chairs trying to sink the information into their heads.

The accident. You. Near-death and pregnant. It all seemed like some sort of crazy movie plot.

“So, she didn’t cheat on you? That’s your child that she’s carrying?” Jungkook’s voice rang in Yoongi’s ears.

The accusations are ridiculous, he knows that. That’s his child that was in your belly. There was no doubt about it, and yet, for some reason, it made him feel strange.

Yoongi nodded to answer his question.

“I thought you said you guys weren’t close leading up to the divorce?” Jungkook questioned.

Yoongi shook his head. “Not for a while, but something happened. I don’t really want to talk about it in detail, but it was emotional and it got the better of both of us. It was the week before the divorce papers.”

“Oh, when you stopped coming to the parties after work, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Silence followed and stayed until the both of them heard heavy footsteps coming up to them. They look up to see Jin fast-walking to them, with a nurse trailing behind him. The same nurse who had led Yoongi here.

“She told me that they were letting visitors in for y/n, now. Did the doctors tell you anything?” He asked.

Yoongi’s face blanked. Jungkook looked at him and back at Jin and nodded.

“Let’s head to her room first and we’ll tell you what he told us.” He said.

The three of them followed the nurse around the hallway to the other side of the operating room. The walk was short, but the silence dragged on until the creaking of the door opening was all they could hear.

Yoongi walked in first and the moment he saw you, he felt sick to his stomach. Your body, pale and bruised, was covered in bandages from head to toe. Half of your head was wrapped in gauze. For the head injury, he’s assuming. There were multiple wires and needles connected to your hands. He had never, ever seen you, or anyone like this before. And it broke his heart, and then the guilt started to seep in.

He walked up to your unconscious body and took your hand, covered in all sorts of wires, in his. Somehow it felt unreal, but as the seconds passed and as his eyes passed over your still form, the reality of the accident and the pregnancy settled on his mind and in his heart.

He felt someone come up behind him and from his peripheral he can identify Jin. He looked about ready to cry, much like how Yoongi did at this moment.

“What did the doctor say?” Jin asked.

Jungkook stayed back, leaning against the door. He waited for Yoongi to answer but his eyes were locked on your body, so he decided to just speak up in place of his hyung.

“The doctor said she’s ok and is expected to wake up in the next couple of days or a week at most. No heavy damage, apparently.”

Yoongi mumbled something as he stroked your bruised fingers. Jin turned to look at him.

“What?”

“She’s pregnant.” Yoongi said, louder this time.

Jin’s eyes widened almost comically. “Pregnant, how in the hell is she pregnant? I think I would know if she was having a kid with somebody.”

“It’s mine.”

“No. There’s no way. You are divorced, and you hurt her. She would have never let you touch her when you hurt her as much as you did.” Jin’s voice got louder and louder, and the guilt that was planted in the pit of Yoongi’s stomach bloomed.

“Yeah, I know. It was one time and we were both emotionally wrecked. I made promises to her that I couldn’t keep and now here we are. But that’s my fucking kid, you can’t tell me otherwise.” Yoongi tried to keep his tone respectful, as Jin was older than him and was one of the most prominent people in your life, but he could only take so much criticism. Jin’s talked to him as if he ruined your life. As if he killed you.

“It’s her child. When she wakes up, she won’t want anything to do with you. You hurt her beyond anything you could probably even imagine in your little brain. You were off doing god knows what when she was suffering at home. That’s not your kid. It might be yours biologically, but you ruined all the chances you had of being a dad when you broke y/n’s heart.”

Every word Jin said was like a knife to his heart. It fed the flower of guilt and made it grow. When he thought about it, he couldn’t really argue because what he said was true. You were a unit before, but when he had promised to try harder, he didn’t and now you’re divorced and pregnant and you hate him and you two will be parents but in a broken family.

☽

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elvendara · 3 years

Text

Sugar and Spice Day 3

July 14th

Rock concert (Rockstar/Fan)

“Five minutes till curtains up!” the man ran backstage shouting over the din. Saeran expected a knock on his door shortly and sure enough, it came. Without waiting for an answer, the man opened the door to let him know the time limit. Saeran locked eyes with him through the mirror and nodded.

Once the door was again closed, he stared at himself. He’d long ago bleached his hair white to differentiate himself from his twin. Saeyoung worked in the shadows, it wouldn’t do to have a famous brother who looked exactly like him. He also utilized colored lenses. It served two purposes, he didn’t need to wear glasses, in fact, his fans didn’t even know he needed them, and the mint green was a stark contrast to his regular, amber-colored eyes. The pink tips were a more recent addition, but he liked them.

Black eyeliner was expertly applied, years of practice making it almost effortless. He took a sponge and smudged it, giving himself that perfect edgy look. The earrings were already in, silver crosses dangling on each side of his face. Ironic really, considering he didn’t believe in God. The thick black silver studded collar was snuggly around his neck as was the matching cuff around his right wrist. He stood and grabbed his leather jacket, sliding it on and glancing into the full-length mirror he had been given in his dressing room. He was comfortable in this persona. The music had been a way for him to deal with his life. Writing down his anger, confusion, and loneliness was a way to get it out of him. It became bigger than him pretty quickly and he found that hiding behind rock stardom meant he didn’t have to answer any real questions about his true self. It worked. Except it kept him lonely and alone. He’d come to terms with spending the rest of his life that way. It was easier than imagining being real with someone. Who could ever love the real him anyway?

He smirked at his reflection as he laced up his biker boots. Time to bring the house down!

He was soaked in sweat but didn’t feel tired. In fact, he felt invigorated, like every time he finished a concert. Feeding off the audience was one of the biggest perks to his career. Someone handed him a towel and he wiped his face with it.

“Great show Saeran!” one of the concert coordinators told him. She held a tablet to her chest and had a handful of fans behind her. Five doe eyed girls and one shy looking boy. Well, now that he looked closer, he was definitely a man, close to his own age. He looked sheepish being with the teenaged groupies. “These are the VIP’s for tonight’s afterparty. Thought I’d introduce you before you change.”

“Nice! Great to meet you, I’m glad we’ll be hanging out tonight. Hope you have a good time. Congrats on winning the backstage passes.” He regurgitated. There wasn’t always an afterparty but there were some special guests, rich, who had paid for the whole thing, so he’d been pressed to oblige them with an appearance. He hated the politics of being famous, but he did love his fans. It was because of them that he could enjoy what he did. If it was up to him, he’d fill the party with fans and not rich entitled groupies. He knew he would spend the night fending off offers to ‘get to know each other better’ all night.

“Oh my GOD! It’s really you!”

“Wow! You’re so HOT!”

“Ahhh, my friends are never gonna believe this!”

The girls were just cookie cutter versions of every other girl he’d seen. He couldn’t blame them; it’s how they sold his image. The man looked embarrassed; he wouldn’t even look him in the eye. He took the chance to check him out. He appeared to be a tad shorter than himself, with blond hair and pink clips holding back his bangs. He wore one of his concert shirts and tight-fitting skinny jeans. His nails were painted alternating pink and black with the black ones having his band’s logo on it, a mint green eye. So he really was a fan. Cute too.

“Uh, well, like the lady said, I have to go get changed for the party, I’ll see you all there. And be sure to grab your swag bags before you leave, don’t let them rip you off there! There’s a CD with a snippet of some of our new songs.” He winked and walked off. There was a lot of oohing and ahhing as he left.

He took a quick shower and dressed in a ripped black T-shirt, black jeans and his biker boots, putting all his accessories back on and reapplying his eyeliner. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked out to the convention center next to the arena. Of course he wasn’t alone, he had security that surrounded him and paparazzi snapping pics as he made his way to the party. They screamed questions at him that he didn’t answer, he smirked, the signature look the media had come to know him by. Surrounded by so many yet feeling so alone. Making it next door took longer than it should have because of the circus around him, but make it he did.

Once he was inside he was taken by the arm by the coordinator who had introduced him to the fans, he couldn’t remember her name but she seemed nice enough. At least she didn’t flirt with him like other women did and took her job seriously.

“You’re here, great, first you should go say hi to the Han family, they’re the ones footing the bill for this afterparty, then you can have a few minutes with the fans before talking to some reporters…”

“Whoah.” He stopped in his tracks and could swear she left skid marks with her heels she’d been going so fast. “I want more than just a few minutes with those fans, and who are all these people anyway?” He saw his bandmates and some of the roadies, but everyone else was a stranger.

“Nobody you need to worry about, uh, I’ll see what I can do with the schedule.” She seemed frazzled but clicked away on her tablet while heading off again. He assumed he should follow, so he did.

“Mr. Han, I appreciate you taking the time and effort for this function.” Saeran greeted the elderly man.

“Ah, of course of course, anything for my new bride!” he had his arm around a young woman who was clearly less than half his age. The rumors about C&R’s head were obviously true. Standing on his other side was a tall and elegant man who appeared to wish he was anywhere but here. He’d seen that face plastered on magazines of all sorts. The heir apparent, Director of C&R, Jumin Han. They nodded respectfully at each other, Saeran feeling sorry for the man and having to deal with his father’s escapades, but the old man seemed like a descent sort. After a few minutes of his ‘wife’ fawning all over him, making him feel uncomfortable, the coordinator pulled him away. He was thankful to her for saving him.

She escorted him towards a section in the back, past all the dancing and the loud music, that was closed off. The music was still loud but at least he could hear himself think. In the section the fans sat, eating and drinking snacks on the coffee table. They all stood up and rushed him. Well, the girls did, touching him and giggling. Where were their parents? They didn’t look old enough to be out. They sat him down and pressed against him. The blond man sat to the side in a chair and continued to sip his cola and eat the snacks, sneaking a look now and then. He wished he could just be alone with him and have a conversation. At least he wouldn’t try to crawl on his lap like these girls seemed to want to do. Well, maybe he wouldn’t mind if the blond tried that.

After about 30 minutes, which felt like a lifetime, the coordinator gathered up the girls and took them out. It was past midnight and he guessed he had been right about their age, couldn’t have minors out at all hours of the night. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It felt like they had leached some of his life force out and he was drained.

“I guess that happens all the time to you huh?”

Saeran sat up abruptly, how could he have forgotten about the blond?

“Sorry, I’ll go if you want to be alone.” He stood and Saeran panicked.

“NO!” he stood, banging his knee on the coffee table, sending him on his ass back on the sofa. He grabbed at the knee, eyes scrunched, “Ow ow ow…”

“Let me see.” Suddenly there was a presence by him as the blond sat beside him, his fingers touching his knee. Because of the ripped jeans, it was easy to see his skin in that area. “Doesn’t look so bad, at least you didn’t break the skin. You’ll have a hell of a bruise though.” The blond raised his gaze to Saeran and he finally got to see the full view. Wow, those eyes knocked him out, was that color even natural? Maybe he was wearing amethyst-colored lenses like what he himself wore. His face was kind, a soft pink flush growing across his cheeks and bridge of his nose. It was adorable.

“Ah, that was really stupid of me. But…I’m glad you didn’t leave. We didn’t even get a chance to chat.” Saeran tried to regain his coolness but found he couldn’t seem to be bothered to try and act in front of this man. “Uh, what’s your name?”

“Yoosung. Don’t have to ask yours I guess.” He smiled, lighting up the entire room.

“Yoosung…I like it.”

“Thanks. I…uh…like you. I mean…I…your music…I…I…like your music…and…uh…I”

Saeran laughed and waved off Yoosung’s explanation.

“So you’re a fan huh? And what…a doctor?” he asked, placing his foot on the ground gently, still rubbing his knee.

“Not quite. But I am going to medical school. And yes, a BIG fan!” his eyes got large, as did his smile. “Your songs spoke to me when I was at a really low point. I don’t know, it felt like you knew what I was going through and understood my pain.” The smile faltered as his thoughts went back to those days. Saeran reached out and placed his hand on Yoosung’s, yes, he knew what it was like to be in pain, he could see it in his eyes.

Their eyes met, an understanding passing between them.

#my posts #fic #Yooran #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #mysme #mystic messenger #Sugar and Spice #Day 3 #July 14th #OK #I know these are supposed to be Saeran as Spice #but damn if he isn't the sweetest baby boi!#He just wants to be loved!

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thevioletjones · 3 years

Note

31, because I can’t see it fitting Ian/Mickey easily and know you’re a good enough writer to prove me wrong ☺️

Thanks! I tried. 🙂

Prompt 6: “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Ian’s Box of Crap

Being currently unemployed, Mickey didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when attempting to deflect Ian’s demands that he get chores and household tasks done while his husband was out earning an honest paycheck. He wasn’t even allowed to shake people down anymore, let alone pull robberies, or get back into the drug trade. Ian had made it clear that divorce wasn't off the table if Mickey deliberately did something stupid that got him thrown back in prison for a long stretch.

He didn’t much like being told what to do, but what he liked even less was not having Ian in his life. He’d had to go too many years without him in the past, and nothing good ever came during those times. Unfortunately, Ian Gallagher was it for Mickey Milkovich. That meant that he actually had to stay in line and put in the work if he didn’t want to lose him again. Ian wasn’t as soft as he used to be. Never really had been at his core, but the maturity of age had cemented his backbone rather rigidly, and Mickey was actually loathe to piss him off too badly these days.

So he did the bullshit grunt work requested of him, just to keep the peace. He was tired of fighting every day of his life, and what was the point of marrying Ian if they weren’t going to try and make each other happy?

In the past couple weeks, Mickey had done everything from laundry and dishes, to vacuuming and mopping. He’d patched up a couple of big holes in the wall that Frank had made, and fixed the loose parts of the wooden outdoor steps and banisters, both front and back. He’d even gone so far as to babysit the tiny, helpless Gallagher spawn a few times, which had been interesting and somewhat terrifying. Then Ian had given him this look when he caught the scene one afternoon, eyes shining, smile beaming. It reminded him of that brief time they’d helped take care of Yevgeny, which made Mickey’s head spin. He didn’t need Gallagher getting the whole ‘having kids’ thing back in his head right now. Mickey was in no way ready for all that. Hadn’t been the first time, and they’d all seen how that turned out.

Today, he was supposed to clean out the attic. He told Ian that asking someone outside the family to do it sounded like a bad idea. How was he supposed to know what shit the Gallaghers wanted to keep, and what they wanted to get rid of? What if he made a mistake? If anyone had asked him what to keep from the hoarded piles of shit in the Milkovich house, he would’ve laughed in their face, then set everything on fire. Mickey wasn’t the sentimental type. So did Ian want him to just toss everything?

Ian had rolled his eyes, clarified that Mickey was a Gallagher now, and given him a run-down. Anything that had obviously been made or cherished by a Gallagher kid, any family photos and albums, or small boxes of keepsakes, those stayed. Anything that wasn’t being used by anyone, but could be of use and handed down to the youngest or recently shacked up of them, set them aside to be put in rotation. Anything that worked, but they already had one of or didn’t need, donation box (because apparently they actually sometimes donated shit to the local shelter). And anything that looked completely unnecessary for anyone, throw it in a Best Choice trash bag, but don't take them to the curb yet. Ian would go over everything when he got home to make sure it was sorted correctly.

“So you’re gettin' me to do all this boring-ass grunt work, then you’re gonna have to go through it anyway? What the fuck, man?” he’d asked.

“It'll make the whole thing way easier on me, so can you just shut the fuck up and do me the favor? I’ll blow you later for your trouble.”

“Like you wouldn’t be doin’ that anyway.”

Ian had shrugged. “If you don’t, I won’t.”

“Threatening to withhold sex? That’s a bitch move if I ever heard one.”

“Whatever, deadbeat. You want me to support you, gotta help out when I ask. A blowjob would just be a bonus, because I’m generous of spirit.”

“I’m not gonna forget this hardcore manipulation, Firecrotch. I’ll get my revenge eventually.”

Ian merely kissed him on the nose. “Sounds like a plan. See ya.”

And he was out the door.

“Asshole,” Mickey’d muttered under his breath.

And now, a few hours later, here he was; sitting on the dusty, hard planks of the weird-smelling Gallagher attic, sorting through the memories and forgotten things of the family he’d married into less than six months ago. He’d dawdled as long as he could on the couch, eating junk food and watching his favorite daytime game shows, judge shows, and salacious ‘who’s the baby daddy?’ shows. The only hint of fun left in the remainder of his day was in the bong and the beer he’d brought with him up the rickety ladder. After every box sorted, he’d take a rip or two and chase the smoke with a long swig of cheap alcohol.

The most interesting things he’d found so far were some old pictures of Ian when he was little, his hair a curly mess, and his pale skin covered in dark freckles. His smile was too big for his face, and he looked goofy as all hell. Nothing like the hot hunk of man he was today. It was the Ian Mickey remembered from Little League a million years ago. And maybe he’d set one of the photos aside to keep for himself and taken some pics of others with his phone, so what?

Mostly he’d had to sift through little Debbie’s ridiculous girly shit, and Frank’s completely random assortment of insignificant trinkets with a side of what looked like bondage gear. He’d since moved on to a group of boxes obviously labeled by Carl when he was younger. He recognized the scrawl, occasional backwards lettering, and lack of possessive apostrophes. The words were short enough not to be atrociously misspelled, and consisted of a Gallagher first name in plural, followed by: ‘box of crap.’

Everybody had one, including Fiona, who hadn’t taken it with her when she’d left Chicago, and the kids she’d raised as her own, behind. The most scandalous item in there was a dildo of decent size that Mickey definitely would’ve packed in his suitcase if he’d been the one moving away as a single chick. The thought crossed his mind to pilfer it for his own collection, but he figured that Ian would be weirded out by the association. Sex toys were probably the only thing Gallaghers never shared between them.

Carl had a box of his own, semi-well-hidden compared to the others, and Mickey discovered why when he’d managed to get the copious amount of packing tape off. It was full of straight porn mags with big-tittied women and shaved pussies, underneath an array of dangerous weapons the family had forbidden him to have when he was underaged. He found everything from nunchucks, to throwing stars, to switchblades, to brass knuckles. No guns or attempted homemade bombs, thank fuck. He chucked the porn in the trash pile, cuz nobody needed to see that shit, and set the switchblade aside for himself, deciding to give the rest to Ian to sort out.

He saved Ian’s box for last, opening it up to find a grab bag of old army decorations, tattered paperbacks, comics, a bunch of loose paper covered in scribbles, and a stack of notebooks.

Mickey didn’t realize Ian was such a huge nerd that he’d kept his high school notebooks, but giving a quick flip through the first two revealed they weren’t school-related at all. He remembered Ian going through a phase when he was always writing shit down, ranting about having great ideas he needed to save for posterity. Before he went to the hospital. A manic phase. Probably one of many he’d cycled through, yet Mickey had missed some of those extremes.

Everything had been so chaotic then. He’d pushed Ian away, then gotten the same treatment in return. Their typical messiness pervaded everything back then. And now, he had in his hands Ian’s unfiltered thoughts about what happened back then.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, setting the notebooks down and going for the beer/weed combo again.

There were exactly two ways to go about this: he could put the notebooks back into the Ian box and not invade his privacy, or he could skim through them and hone in on the interesting relevant bits and maybe get a few long-pondered answers. On the one hand, Ian would probably get pissed if Mickey read them. On the other hand, Ian never had to know about it, did he?

It really wasn’t much of a choice… he’d always been curious as to what the hell was going through Ian’s head back in the day. They’d never exactly been great at talking things out, and he didn’t have it in him to try and make Ian relive some of the lowest moments of his life just to give Mickey some peace of mind. Plus, they were always facing some new bullshit obstacle head-on, so the past always just kind of got lost in the shuffle of their present difficulties.

Mickey took a deep breath and opened one of the notebooks again. The pages weren’t dated, and a lot of it didn’t make much sense. There were many lists with lines crossed out, but they didn’t describe things ‘to do,’ more like an endless inventory of concepts and feelings. The thought patterns were totally abstract, and Mickey couldn’t really make heads or tails of them. It hit him sharply in the chest when he realized that when Ian had been out of it, he’d really and truly been fucking out of it. These seemed like the crazed rantings of an unmedicated schizophrenic babbling on public transportation. It pained Mickey to the core, and it scared the shit out of him too.

He flipped through it fairly quickly, then opened the next one. It seemed to be calmer, more legible, and less unintelligible. It was more like a diary with bad poetry sprinkled in, and it only took a few pages for Mickey’s own name to jump out at him among the wall of words. It must have been written during Ian’s lost months, after going AWOL from the Army when he was 17.

He described running away from Chicago, scamming his early enlistment, crashing and burning his way out of bootcamp, shaking and selling his ass as a club boy, snorting, smoking, and swallowing all manner of substances, and crashing anywhere from penthouses to flophouses with sexual favors sprinkled in liberally. It was like the chronicle of a person going mad and coping in all the wrong ways. It surprised Mickey how emotional it made him to read these things in vivid detail. He’d completely forgotten how worried he used to be about Ian. When he was gone, when he went missing again, and when he started doing irrational things that could’ve ended so much worse than they did.

Ian was the one that had to live out all the drama and trauma of his disorder, but Mickey was the one caught on the sidelines, not having a single clue what to do or how to fix it. He’d never felt so useless or helpless in his entire life, even through all the bullshit he’d suffered growing up with Terry as a father. Maybe it was because of his age, or how Ian made him feel a certain way he’d never felt before. He just remembered hating it, and being so fucking sad.

These pages reminded him that through the mania, Ian was a bottomless well of sadness himself.

It was tough text to get through, and more than once, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t be reading it at all. Ian had never intended for other people to see his innermost thoughts, even Mickey. But it was impossible to stop now that he’d opened that floodgate. It was like reliving a part of their shared history through the eyes of his partner in crime. It was too fascinating.

After countless pages of dark tales from the void, Mickey came upon a page that was actually addressed to him. Surely, Ian had never intended to hand it over, but it was his nonetheless.

Mickey— I never had the balls to tell you this, But you’re the only boy I’ve ever loved. I thought you loved me too, But now I’m not so sure. I’m so confused and I go back and forth, Never really knowing what to actually think, Or what the truth is. All I really realize now is that I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you. It took you forever to let me, And now I just do it with anyone, Cuz I don’t fucking care. I just miss you, And I wish you were here. But also, I don’t, Cuz I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m having a great time on my own adventure, But also not. You shouldn’t be a part of it right now. You’re on your own strange journey, I guess. Maybe one day we’ll be on the same road together again, And also for the first time, since we never really were.

Mickey barely had enough time to sniff and wipe away the stray tear that had fallen, when his husband’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

“You’re still up here?”

“Jesus Christ!” he cried out with a visible jolt of his body.

His head snapped toward the attic hatch, where Ian’s dumb red head was surveying the musty space. Mickey let the notebook fall from his grasp, but Ian was already climbing the rest of the way in before it occurred to him that he was about to be caught red-handed with journals that were supposed to be deeply private. He could only flip it closed and grab his beer to polish it off, before Ian was crouching in front of him and taking a seat.

“Can’t believe you actually did this for me, to be honest,” Ian said with a chuckle, glancing at the bong. “Anything left?”

“Baggie’s right there,” Mickey replied nodding his head to the left.

“Nice.”

Ian got distracted with loading a bowl, so Mickey very subtly tried to nudge Ian's notebooks aside with his foot, like maybe if they were slightly farther away, he could claim complete innocence as to knowing what they were.

He watched Ian take a couple hits before passing it to him, and Mickey welcomed the opportunity to temper his suddenly sullen mood.

“How was work?” he asked between hits, before passing back to Ian.

Ian snickered and furrowed his brow. “You never ask me about work.”

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t mean I don’t care.”

“Uh huh.” Ian looked even more skeptical, and finally glanced around at what Mickey had in his vicinity. That sent his brow up high, in a decent imitation of Mickey’s usual expressiveness. “Oh. That my box?”

Mickey gulped and nodded. “Yeah. Just sorting it out. Should’ve just left the whole thing for ya. Sorry.”

Ian’s gaze snapped to his face. “You read stuff.”

It was a statement rather than a question.

“Just a little,” Mickey admitted. “I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I’m an asshole.”

But Ian only shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that. I’d be pissed.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Ian shook his head again. “No. Actually, I’m kinda relieved.”

“How the fuck so?”

“It's all stuff I wanted you to know. I mean, part of me used to be really ashamed, maybe still is, but… another part of me always just wanted to be totally honest with you. In a way I haven’t ever been with anyone. Even Lip. But I didn’t have the words to say it, you know? And I know a lot of it is just scary rambling. I don’t even understand what some of it means, but the stuff that’s real… the lucid stuff… it’s depressing as fuck, but it’s the truth. We didn’t always tell each other the truth, but we showed each other. And this was something I couldn’t really show you. So maybe you were meant to find these. Do my dirty work for me.”

“Damn, Gallagher, that’s kinda heavy. These were… kinda heavy. Made me feel shit I’d forgotten about, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. I haven’t read ‘em in years, but I remember. It’s why I wanted to put ‘em away, I guess. Plus, I didn’t want someone else snooping around and finding out too much. I mean, you never know in this house. It’s possible every fucking Gallagher already read them, but I hope not.”

“Ian…” Mickey started, but didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. Words of reassurance? It was all in the past, and Ian was doing so well now. He was diligent about his medication, and he hadn’t spun out of control since before prison. Anything Mickey said now would just be cold comfort, since that notebook version of Ian barely existed anymore. Ian was always afraid that it would recur, but Mickey wasn’t. They were truly in it together now, and he’d never let Ian cross the threshold into the uncontrollable. “I wish I coulda been what you needed me to be back then. However impossible it was. Some of it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t even my fault, really. It was some shitty shit that happened to me. I reacted the only way I thought I could. There’s no use in either of us wishing we’d done things differently now. At least we got the right outcome, right? We’re together.” He clasped their left hands so that their wedding rings touched. “Forever.”

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to get that gay about it. I already had to suffer through a buncha your faggy teen poetry. I deserve a break from the high drama of it all.”

Ian laughed, kissed his hand, dropped it, then smacked him on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

“Just say when,” Mickey responded with a smile.

“After we go through all this shit, Romeo. Explain the piles.”

“Well,” said Mickey, pointing to the nearby corner, “Carl has a shitload of contraband in there. Weapons, not drugs. Frank has some shit that might be S&M gear, not sure, then aside from your lunatic journal ramblings, everything else is boring as shit. Oh, and Fiona left a big blue dildo.”

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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ddalgi-yong · 3 years

Text

STARCROSSED NO. 1 || J.JK

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff-ish

word count: 4,6k

synopsis: finding out that you were a half god and the half sister of the one and only aphrodite, you have to avoid getting killed, be the reason why the emotion love disappears from the world... and avoid jeon jungkook and try not to fall in love with him.

part of the holiday treats event <3

if you want to be tagged to the series, please send me an ask ! series masterlist link will be added later !

DEAR VIO;

its me, your secret santa ! i really hope that you like the first part of my series ! i thought this was getting too long so i decided to cut it and make a series out of it ! making this a series, by the way, was the surprise i was talking about lol i didnt manage to interact with you a lot during the event as sometimes you didn’t see my asks and sometimes, i just disappeared. i’m sorry about that. maybe we could do better and text each other sometimes? you seem really sweet and nice and i really need someone who might get me back to stan bts properly :D anyways, i really hope you enjoyed this! merry early christmas, dear ! i hope you will have amazing days during this tough time !

xx nur

You hated him.

You didn’t even know why you hated him, but most important was that you hated him.

Who?

Jeon Jungkook.

His stupidly perfect face, his perfect and beautiful smile; you had so many things that people loved about him.

But at least you knew that you hated him, that was the most important part.

Until that one day you looked him straight into his eyes, suddenly felt this huge anger and you only wanted to kill him.

“You fucking bitch, I should have done this a long time ago”, he growled as he got closer to you. “I should have killed you before it was too late. But now… no one will save you from me.” His laugh was soft and sweet despite his angered tone and you had no idea why he spoke to you like this.

“What the hell did I do to you?”, you asked him, your voice was shaky as you really started to fear him. You hated him, yet you were scared of him in this one moment.

“You exist, that’s enough”, he said and then he was gone. You didn’t know what happened as Jungkook suddenly disappeared from in front of you; you didn’t even know where he was. Your body started shaking and you just sat down on the grass to breathe properly.

You had no idea what was going on or where Jungkook had disappeared to.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”, someone shouted over the huge field, you turned around to see your boyfriend Yugyeom coming towards you. He was dressed in his typical style, mostly black and the usual edgy boyfriend look he always had.

“Yeah, I am. What about you?”, you smiled up to him and he sat down next to you. Even though he always seemed like the tough man from campus but you knew better.

“Bored and tired. You wanna skip class?”, he asked you and you hit him laughing.

“You dumbass, why would you do that?”, you asked him and he only shrugged, pulling your head on his lap, softly stroking over your head.

“Because I’d rather spend my time with my beautiful and sweet girlfriend than be stuck in that disgusting classroom. Come on, please”, he was pouting and you laughed at the way he was trying to convince you. “We only have that one last class left anyway; it won’t hurt to skip once.”

“Alright, fine”, you laughed and closed your eyes as you enjoyed the sun shining down on your face.

“Come on, let’s go! I wanna go home”, he grinned and pulled you up to go out of campus. You shook your head to the exit of your university. As it was a warm spring day, you tried to convince your boyfriend not to go home but to one of your favorite spots in South Korea’s capital Seoul.

“Why do you wanna go there now? Can’t we just go home?”, he pouted.

“Because I haven’t been there for a while now! Also, don’t pretend like you don’t like it there”, you told him and grinned as he rolled his eyes, nodding.

“Alright, let’s go then”, he agreed and you put your hands on his cheeks, squeezing them before you planted a kiss on his pouty lips.

You went to the closest bus station that would lead you to the beautiful nature and calming space. You couldn’t understand why Yugyeom suddenly didn’t want to go there anymore since he always went there with you.

As your bus finally arrived, he took your hand and pulled you inside, taking out a facemask to cover up his face. You boyfriend was pretty known around as he was handsome and talented in his dance. Yugyeom loved to post some of his current projects on social media where he was known by a big fandom.

Obviously, he had to cover up his face and he handed you a mask over as well.

“Are you okay?”, you asked him and looked up on him. You kind of were worried that he really only wanted to go home because he wasn’t feeling well.

“Yes, I am. Why shouldn’t I be?”, he asked you and you shook your head as you smiled.

“No, it’s just… I didn’t want to force you to come with me. Don’t think that please, I thought it would be nice to get out of the busy city. We can go back if you don’t want to go”, you told him, slightly feeling bad that you forced him to go with you.

“You didn’t force me or anything, my love. Don’t worry, I’m okay. I just thought we would simply go home and watch a movie, order food or just sleep”, he explained and you sighed.

“Okay… but we’ll go home whenever you want to, yeah?”, you asked him and he hummed before he pulled you closer to himself, as you leaned your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and trying to relax. Somehow your boyfriend’s presence couldn’t calm you down as you started to think about your random anger towards Jungkook. You still didn’t understand what happened or why it happened.

Once your bus finally arrived at Namsan, the place you two were heading to.

“If we’re already here, let’s take some pics”, he grinned and handed you his phone, making you laugh out happily. Yugyeom really knew how to distract you. Yugyeom really was a handsome man. He didn’t have to try much and was looking good.

“Come on, there is a small bistro and I’m hungry”, you told him as you handed him his phone back. Yugyeom kissed you on your forehead before taking your hand again and taking you there. You both ordered simple ramen and waited for the food to arrive.

“Well, well, well. If that isn’t sweet Y/N and your dearest boyfriend. What are you guys doing here instead of going to your classes?”, someone asked you two. You turned around and looked up to Jungkook and a few other people you knew from university.

“That’s none of your business”, Yugyeom literally growled and got up.

“Calm down Kim, not everything is about you. This time we’re here because of sweet Y/N”, one of Jungkook’s companions said, putting his fingers on Yugyeom’s forehead and the young man collapsed right into his arms. You let out a scream as Yugyeom lost his consciousness. Only a few seconds later, you also lost your consciousness as the boy put his fingers on your forehead.

You woke up in an unknown room. You felt scared for a second so you sat up and looked around. It seemed like a normal room, not a hospital or anything else.

“Why the hell are you awake already? You shouldn’t wake up before I make you wake up”, someone murmured making you jolt up. It was the same guy who made Yugyeom to lose his consciousness.

“Who are you? Where is Yugyeom? What did you do to him?”, you screamed, suddenly you were furious. The anger you felt towards a boy you never met was driving you crazy and you quickly got up. Then you just attacked him.

The boy quickly pinned you down on the ground, making your groan in pain but your hatred made you feel stronger and you quickly turned the guy around and punched him a right hook. He groaned in pain as he felt how strong you actually were.

“Fuck you, how can you be stronger than I am?”, the young man said before someone started laughing.

“I’m wondering that, too. How can be this little girl so much stronger than you, hyung?”, you looked up as Jungkook started talking again. “She really hit you that hard that you started bleeding.” He laughed again and shook his head, getting closer to pull you up. You started to fight against his strong grip on your arm but it was useless; compared to Jungkook, the other guy was weaker.

“Come on hyung, that was funny”, he laughed and softly patted the elder’s head as he still tried to hold you back from Jimin easily with only one hand. You slowly grew tired and stopped fighting.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

The small room started being filled with more and more guys and you looked around terrified at all the unknown faces.

“Our dearest Y/N is one of them”, Jungkook announced. “She probably didn’t know herself. Did you, Y/N?”

“W-what? I don’t k-know what you’re talking about”, you stuttered. You really had no idea what Jungkook was talking about.

“Cute. You really didn’t know that you are one of Aphrodite’s children?”, he asked you and you almost choked on your spit as he said that. Then you started laughing.

“Aphrodite’s children?”, you laughed and shook your head. “Good joke. Now tell me why the hell you brought me to wherever we are right now.”

“It wasn’t a joke, though. I’m dead serious. You are one of Aphrodite’s children. Just like we are Poseidon’s children. We all are practically half-gods. You, too”, he explained and you shook your head.

“You’re delusional. You’re… You’re fucking crazy. Let me fucking go, you asshole. I want to go home”, you told him and tried to get away from Jungkook’s tight grip on your arm. He was stubborn and didn’t let go, he was much stronger than the guy who you first saw when you woke up.

“It’s all the truth, Y/N. It’s your blood that made me understand who you are”, he explained. “When Jimin hyung made you lose your consciousness, you still were able to get your consciousness back rather quickly. No one besides Aphrodite’s children are able to do that. They are rare but the strongest. However, you really want to tell me, you don’t know anything about your true self?”

“I don’t! For god’s sake, I fucking don’t know!”, you yelled, you started to get furious again. You didn’t know why you suddenly grew more impatient and were so aggressive towards the guys in the room. None of them besides Jungkook and Jimin had talked before.

“That’s enough, Jungkook. Don’t pressure her anymore. She should rest and I will talk to her later”, one of the guys said, you immediately looked at him and your features softened at his calming voice.

“But hyung” – “No but’s, Jungkook. Everyone gets the hell out of this room and let her rest. Or I promise you, it will not end up well”, the guy said and pushed everyone out of the room. Before he left, he added a “Please, sleep a little more. Anger isn’t the best for you to feel as it puts us in danger. I will wake you up for dinner.”

“Can I maybe know your name?”, you asked him and he nodded as he introduced himself:

“I’m Seokjin. Sleep well, Y/N”, he said before he left and closed the door.

You sighed as you looked around the room before you sat down on the bed. You didn’t know where you were or how to get out. So, you just laid down and soon, you fell asleep.

As you woke up again, you weren’t alone. Someone was kneeling right next to you, you jolted up from the bed, covering your body up even though you knew you were still completely dressed.

“What’s going on?”, you asked the girl and scooted away when she tried to touch you.

“Nothing, I’m just checking up on you”, she answered. You backed away as she tried to touch your forehead again.

“Leave me alone. I don’t even know you”, your voice was shaky and you tried to get away from the girl as much as possible. But then of course the bed had an end. You had no space to escape anymore.

“Hey, don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you or make you lose your consciousness like Jimin that idiot did. I’m his twin sister, Areum. I only want to check up on you. Will you let me touch your forehead for a second? It won’t hurt, sweetie”, she said and smiled at you softly. You immediately found her comforting and felt safe around her.

“Okay”, you said, still a little unsure. She smiled a little brighter and quickly put her fingers on your forehead. A soft warmth went through your body and you felt happier for a moment. That feeling left you as Areum pulled her fingers away from your forehead.

“Good, you’re doing well. I’m glad about that. Also, I’m going to kick my brother’s ass for using his powers for something as useless as making you lose your consciousness. That’s just… wrong in any kind of way”, Areum started babbling and you laughed as she rather was talking to herself than to you.

“Anyway, what’s your name? My brother nor my dumb cousins didn’t tell me”, she pouted and you smiled as you introduced yourself.

“Can you tell me what is going on here? I only remember how Jimin made Yugyeom lose his consciousness… wait… Yugyeom! Is he okay?”, you asked panicked.

“Don’t worry. He is alright. I just came from his room. You got one handsome boyfriend over there”, Areum grinned. You blushed a little.

“Can I see him? Or am I not allowed to leave this room?”, you asked her and she nodded.

“You can go. I’ll keep my brother and cousins away from you two”, she gave you her approval and you immediately got up and started running before you confusedly had to stop. You didn’t even ask where Yugyeom’s room was.

“Right next to you”, you got scared as someone suddenly stood behind you and you turned around. You saw Jungkook standing there, chuckling at the way you flinched.

“You really need to train your senses. That way you will be able to know that someone is right behind you. I’m surprised that you survived until now without having the proper senses to know you have your enemy right behind your back”, he told you.

“Your sweet boyfriend is right there. But I would recommend you to find out, if you can really trust him”, Jungkook said and smiled then softly.

“What do you mean?”, you asked him confusedly but he didn’t answer you. He just disappeared and your eyes weren’t even able to follow him, he was that quick. You couldn’t comprehend how quick he was.

You didn’t think any more of it and only entered the room Jungkook told you your boyfriend was in.

“Hey, baby”, he smiled and put his phone away to open up his arms. “Come here, I missed you.”

You giggled and smiled, jumping up on the bed; he immediately hugged you tightly, inhaling your scent as if he was scared to lose you.

“I was so scared”, he mumbled. “I thought, I wouldn’t see you ever again. I was so, so scared.” Yugyeom didn’t let you go. He was holding you so tightly, that you were scared he would crush your bones.

“Yug… please, you’re holding me too tightly”, you said as you tried to breathe in properly.

“Sorry, I just missed you. I thought they did something to you and I was so worried”, you smiled brightly and turned around, pecking his lips over and over again. “I was so scared.”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay”, you reassured him. “They told me I would be one of Aphrodite’s children but… I don’t know what they mean. Do you have any idea?”

“W-what? No, I have no idea what they possibly could mean”, he stuttered but you didn’t notice it.

“Okay… I’ll just ask Areum later”, you smiled and put your head on his chest, trying to relax.

“No… we should get the hell out of here. I don’t trust Jungkook or his family so we need to get out of here”, he insisted, started talking to convince you of how much of a bad feeling he had about Jungkook and his family.

“Alright, let’s go”, you smiled and got up from the bed; he followed you quickly after.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, Jungkook suddenly appeared in front of you again, scaring you once again.

“Out of here? I have my own home”, you told him confused, chuckling at his dumb question. “You didn’t think I would stay here, right?”

“I didn’t think so, I decided it myself. You’re staying here”, Jungkook said, not caring a little about what you had just told him. You couldn’t believe him; you were so mad suddenly and you simply couldn’t control your anger.

“Hey, calm down. I don’t want to get another right hook from you. You might not have trained your senses yet but you’re still stronger than me. That’s exactly why you have to stay here. You can’t even control yourself when I say something that you don’t like. I don’t even want to imagine what happens if anyone hurts you in some way”, Jungkook explained and you understood what he meant. Slowly, you calmed a bit down.

“Good… now you can go, you lying ass”, Jungkook said, directed to Yugyeom.

“I’m not leaving her alone with you”, Yugyeom almost started fighting Jungkook as he was called a ‘lying ass’.

“What do you mean?”, you interrupted them, looking at Yugyeom first, then at Jungkook. “What are you trying to tell me? You told me to be careful if I can trust him, now you call him a liar?! What is your problem, Jungkook?!”

“He is my problem. You have no idea what he is. He is one of those assholes, he is one of Apollo’s sons and is only using you to survive! No one dares to lay a hand on you so he uses you as his protection!”, Jungkook’s voice was loud and he was definitely mad.

“What? Yugyeom… is that true?”, you asked your boyfriend as you couldn’t believe what you just heard. Was Yugyeom really using you for protection only?

“No! Of course, it isn’t true! Yes, I might be a son Apollo’s but I am nothing like my family!”, he defended himself and grabbed your hand. “It is definitely not true!”

“Don’t believe him, Y/N. He’s been lying all the time to you. Why do you think is he trying to get you out of here? He is trying to keep you away from us! But you have to believe me! I usually never am like this but I am fucking begging you to stay the fuck away from him!”

You had no idea why but suddenly you believed him. There was this warm feeling inside of you again, just the same feeling as Areum had put her fingers on your forehead, as you heard his words. They just seemed so right to you.

“Do you believe me?”, he asked you, he was desperate at this point. You smiled brightly and nodded.

“Yes, I believe you”, you answered him. “I believe you, Jeon Jungkook. I don’t know why, but your words… they just seem so right. It is just the best feeling I’ve had in my whole life. I don’t know what this is.”

“You’re a truthteller. You can sense lies. Focus a bit. Now, dear Yugyeom. Do you have something to tell your girlfriend?” Jungkook seemed confident, he knew exactly that Yugyeom was lying.

Suddenly, he was gone. It felt like less than a second where Yugyeom had disappeared but soon was brought back when you blinked once.

“You’re quick, but I’m faster, you asshole. Now tell your beautiful girlfriend what bullshit you pulled off with her”, Jungkook smiled. He was so sure of himself and the fact that you were used for Yugyeom’s protection.

“Fuck, okay, I used you for my own protection! Yes, I did that. But I never lied about how I felt about you, Y/N. I love you and this is the fucking truth!”, he was practically yelling and you felt the comforting warmth in your body as you heard those words.

“He is telling the truth”, you said and sighed. Jungkook scoffed only.

“But that means you knew who I was. You knew that I was one of… you. But still, you didn’t tell me. I was walking in the dark, not knowing my real identity. Why didn’t you tell me? Why?!”, you asked him desperately.

“I couldn’t tell you! My parents forbid me to talk to you about it!”, he tried to explain himself but this time, he forgot about the fact that you could feel it in your bones when someone lied to you.

“You’re lying. You could tell me. You could have told me. But you didn’t”, you couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to lie to you. That’s when you realized something else. “Did you just say your parents?”

“No… well, yes, I said my parents but I meant my uncle and aunt. Because… you know they took care of me when my parents- “

“Don’t fucking lie to me anymore!”, you screamed. “Stop lying!”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, but I have to go”, Yugyeom said and disappeared again. This time, Jungkook didn’t move.

“I’m sorry that your boyfriend is a lying asshole”, he said and softly stroked over your cheek with his thumb. You couldn’t help but smile at his soft action.

“Why are you sorry? I’m all right, I’m just surprised that he actually did this whole thing but never said anything… he could’ve told me. I would’ve tried to kept it a secret, of course. Why would I say something like this to anyone else and put them in danger?”, you tried to understand Yugyeom but you had no argument that would make you understand his lies.

“I don’t know… you didn’t deserve this bullshit”, Jungkook just shrugged and sighed then. “We should get downstairs. Hoseok is probably already waiting for you.”

“Wait, who is waiting for me and why?”, you asked him confusedly, tried to hold him back when he had grabbed your hand and was leading you to some sort of studio.

“Hobi, one of my cousins. He will help you train your senses and powers. Believe me, he will get you to the point where you’ll be able to notice me from a mile away. He’s really good at what he does and he is a happy pill so you won’t get bored with him”, Jungkook explained and continued pulling you downstairs. He was leading you down to some kind of studio, at first glance, you thought it was a dance studio.

“Hello there, Y/N. I‘m Hoseok. It’s very nice to finally meet one of Aphrodite’s children”, he introduced himself. His words kind of offended you as you didn’t want to be reduced to your identity as one of the rare Aphrodite’s children.

“Don’t call me that. I’m more than just one of her children”, you fought back.

“Alright, dear. I didn’t want to offend you in any way. But as Jungkook probably already told you, I will be training your senses and powers.” He looked up to Jungkook. “What are you still doing here? Get the hell out of here”, Hoseok raised his hand and suddenly, Jungkook was moving backwards.

“H-hyung! Stop, alright, I’ll leave!”, Jungkook was already yelling at the older man and Hoseok only laughed. He lowered his hand and Jungkook stopped walking backwards. The younger boy disappeared within a single second.

“Damn, that was nice. Am I able to do that, too?”, you asked Hoseok, already feeling comfortable around the boy.

“Sadly, I don’t know that yet. I will have to find out but it might take a while. It could’ve been easier if your boyfriend didn’t run away because seems like, he can tell other’s powers”, Hoseok explained.

“What do you mean? Everyone has different powers? Why is that?”, you asked him confusedly.

“We don’t know why every single half-god has another power and different one, even if we’re from the same god. It just is a thing which happens by chance. But don’t worry, your powers will show themselves soon. You have to know that you can run faster, you’re stronger and that you’re healing quicker than normal humans. Maybe you have noticed that you never broke your arm or any other bone completely? Or the fact that your wounds closed quicker than those of other’s?“

“I didn’t know that”, you said. “I guess, I never noticed it.” Within the next second, you screamed out in pain as Hoseok cut your arm with a small knife. “What the fuck?!”

“Don’t get mad. Just watch”, he smiled and pointed at the now already closing wound. You were surprised as the wound was completely gone within the next few seconds. “See? This is just so normal. Your cells regenerate quicker than those of normal human, so your wounds close just as quick.”

“Tell me more, please. I don’t know anything about all this; it’s just so new for me”, you asked him.

“Alright then… I’m not much of the history guy, that’s Namjoon, so you’ll have to ask him later. I can tell you a little about the whole history and how the half-gods were created”, Hoseok smiled softly.

“Do you know the story of Helena and Paris?”, he asked you first. You shook your head, only knowing the names of those two persons in the Greek mythology but not their story.

“Summing up, Helena was the wife of Menelaos. But she fell in love with Paris. So, she ran away with him. Ran away with Paris and after her an army with Menelaos’ men. Helena was Zeus’ and Leda’s child, which made her Aphrodite’s sister. She ran away with him, not caring about the fact that she was putting a child in danger.

Later when she found out that she was pregnant, she was not accepted by the city she tried to hide as she was known as Menelaos’ wife and was expecting Paris’ child. She was protected and saved by her sister, Aphrodite. Aphrodite brought her to Paris, telling him about the child. To protect her niece, she gave Helena the Cestus, her necklace which would protect them both.

Helena gave birth to a beautiful girl. She was just as beautiful as her mother was and just as beautiful as her aunt was. Aphrodite made sure that all descendants of Helena would look just alike her and that it would be all girls. This is why you are rare. You have no one besides your mother and maybe your grandmother. You guys are so rare that I am surprised that Yugyeom managed to find you. But Jungkook was right with one thing: he only used you. Those who are descendants of Aphrodite are so special and important; you guys keep the emotion love alive.

As the city Helena tried to find comfort at attacked her, Aphrodite cursed them that if anything would happen to any of you, love, affection, it would all disappear from this world. No one would dare to hurt you. And we don’t intend on doing that”, he explained everything briefly.

“And why was there this anger and hatred I felt towards Jungkook whenever I saw him and why don’t I attack you anymore like I did before?”

“Honestly, I don’t know either. The hatred and anger start off with the murders that happened during the war for Helena but Namjoon will tell you more about this, I promise. I’m not much into history”, he chuckled lightly.

“That’s… a lot to process”, you sighed and shook your head. “So, it’s important that I stay safe. How can I trust you all? I don’t even know you.”

“You have no other choice, dear. You need to trust us”, Hoseok simply said, as if trusting someone you used to hate was the easiest thing. It wasn’t. But did you have another chance? No. That was what Hoseok told you and you knew he was telling the truth. You felt it deep in your heart.

You had to trust him or there wouldn’t be something called ‘love’ in this world anymore.

@viopera

#kafeholiday20 #bts #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader

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