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slutmegeto · 4 days

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meraki.

requested! okay, hear me out…a yandere gojo and geto setting their eyes on their pretty student?

tw. yandere, noncon, dubcon, (somewhat) pwp, teacher(s)/student relationship, age gap (reader is a first year), unbalanced power dynamics, forced oral (male receiving), choking, gagging, grinding, mention of masturbation, use of pretty/angel/baby, use of slut, praise kink, inexperience reader

pairing: satosugu x f!reader

they scared you more than you liked to admit. but the truth of it was inevitable.

they scared you—terrified you even. their eyes always on you, always watching; the smiles on their faces never quite reaching their eyes. not in a way that was sincere anyways. cold and calculated, focused solely on you.

it made your chest tight and your stomach twist with nerves and give you enough sense to avoid them. both of them. which was increasingly hard given that one was your teacher and the other a teacher of your relatively small school. sure, the campus was somewhat big but the fact that remained the same; there was only three teachers and two of them made you feel anything but safe.

avoiding them wasn't easy. but you tried your best.

though, even that seemed futile in the end.

nobara is chatting your ear off about something you can barely pay attention to, fingers working quick to gather your things so you can get out of the classroom as quick as possible.

it's like this every time the day ends. your morning starts with training, then lunch and the afternoon is just class; sat at your desk, nobara beside you and megumi and yuji in front. of course, gojo stands at the front of the class, droning on about something before he inevitably loses track and rambles on about something else.

it's like this everyday. nothing is particulally different about today. you avoid gojo's eyes the entire class, head bowed, eyes zone in on your notebook where you diligently take notes, passing off as a worried student focused on her studies. you can feel his gaze, but you do your best to ignore it.

you'll rush out of class and geto will be making his way through the hall just as you turn the corner. he'll smile at you and greet you with a sickeningly-sweet call of your name and you'll nod, rushed, mumbling out a greeting before picking up the pace of your step to get to your room as quick as possible.

you'll deny nobara's offer to hang in the courtyard, and you'll eat dinner an hour later than everyone else like you always do. just so you can avoid running into them.

it'll be the same it always is. of course it will be.

but you can't help the knot that twists in your stomach and the nerves that have had you on edge all day. they're worse than they normally are, making it hard to focus and for your heart to calm. you feel like you've been tense all day, heart pounding and chest tight with no relief in sight.

all day.

nothing different had happened. not a single change in routine that has existed for the better part of half of the school year. everything had been exactly the same and you have no reason to doubt that that fact won't remain the same for the rest of the day either.

but you're anxious. nervous. that anxiety wells and seems to skyrocket the second gojo dismisses you all, shaky fingers working as quick as they can to gather your things and get out of there.

you're right behind nobara, the boys having just left, bag clutched to your chest as you mumble a half-hearted goodbye to her. and you're just at the door, right about to walk out, before his voice stops you.

"y/l/n?"

your whole body freezes, tensing, as his voice calls out for you mockingly sweet. you raise your head, staring at the wall ahead of you, before gathering the little bit of courage you can find to glance at him over your shoulder.

his black sunglasses hang low on his face, bright blue eyes peering over the edge directly at you as he grins, all toothy and bright but it seems anything but genuine to you in that moment.

"y-yes, gojo-sensei?" your voice is low, shaky and the realization that you were in fact alone with him makes your shoulders feel heavy with the weight of your reality.

"i need to talk to you," he explains, feigning nonchalance as he turns to his desk, fumbling with things. "can you stay behind a minute?"

you glance back in the direction of the door, distantly hearing nobara curse at yuji for something, and your heart leaps at the desperation for some sort of excuse. but one look back at gojo and fear has you seizing, only able to manage a small nod before forcing yourself to turn and head back to your desk.

he thanks you, telling you he'll be a minute as you sit down, fingers digging into the edge of your desk.

it'll be okay, you tell yourself, eyes squeezing shut as you try to calm your racing heart. it'll be okay. he just needs to talk to you! and once he's done, you can go to your dorm and—

"ah, suguru! perfect timing!"

all your soothing words go out the window the second you hear satoru's voice, eyes snapping open to glance over at the door only to see geto, the second years teacher, standing at the entrance. he's smiling lazily, eyes drifting from gojo to you, where his smile seems to widen at the sight of you and then your heart falls to the pit of your stomach when you see him turn, moving to shut the door.

you're jumping to your feet before you can even realize it, heart lurching as you stumble back, trying to create as much distance between you and them as you can.

gojo turns to you, raising a brow in surprise, just as you watch geto's swift fingers lock the door and turn around to stare at you.

"y/l/n, is everything—"

"i... i have to go," you force out, desperation bleeding in. "nobara—i forgot. we made plans to—"

"sorry, y/n," gojo cuts in, and you blink at his use of your first name, eyes falling on him. "i... me and suguru really need to talk to you. nobara will just have to wait, kay?"

you feel like you're going to pass out. this... this is not good.

you're stumbling back, not liking the way gojo is moving around the desk to make his way towards you. but in your panic to get away from him, you hadn't noticed geto leaving the door and moving so he's behind you. you don't, at least, until you feel yourself stumble back into a warm chest, movements stilling as you glance behind yourself, only to find him staring down at you.

geto grabs you by the arms before you can try and run, grip tight, a warning you realize, nails pinching into you as he starts to steer you forward. your heart is pounding so loud you can hear it, shaking your head as you try to fight his grip but it's useless.

geto is far stronger than you. that much is clear.

he doesn't stop until you're both right in front of gojo, who, still grinning, leans down so his face is level with yours.

"you okay, y/n?" gojo asks, head tilted in concern. "you look a little peaked."

"she's shaking too," geto hums, and you hate the way you can feel his chest rumble against your back.

"aw," gojo coos and you wince. "why are you so scared? we just wanna talk to you."

"pl—... please," you whisper, gripping the edge of your skirt tightly in your fingers, knuckles white, trying to stop the tremble of your body or the way you feel like your legs are going to give out beneath you. "please."

"poor baby doesn't even know what she's begging for," gojo laughs, glancing up at geto who smirks down at you.

you let out whimper, flinching back, unfortunately into geto, as gojo moves to straighten out.

then, geto's hands shift. they leave your arms, and you blink, confused, until you feel them fall against your waist, the movement causing you to jump. you're frozen still as his fingers move to unbutton the jacket of your uniform, slowly, tauntingly.

"you see," gojo speaks up then, pulling your eyes on him. "it hasn't escaped our notice how you seem to avoid us."

dread filling you, you're dead weight as geto maneuvers you to pull off your jacket, slipping it off your shoulders and down your arms before tossing it somewhere behind him.

"and it hurts our feelings you know?" gojo frowns, feigning hurt as he pouts down at you. "seeing our precious student run from us like that... when, truly, we just wanna help you. you mean so much to us... you're our precious student afterall."

you gasp as geto's hands slip under your white blouse, hands pressing against the bare skin of your stomach as he envelopes you completely. his shoulders hunch around you, much larger than your frame, head hanging over your shoulder as his hands draw patterns across your skin. he's gentle, slow, causing goosebumps to flesh out, hands falling on his arms.

"so, we're gonna show you just how much we care about you today, okay?"

geto's hand is wrapping around your left breast, clad in your bra the second gojo's word finish and it feels like you snap out of your stupor then. he squeezes, harsh, and you cry out, your hands wrapped around his arms pushing them away, wiggling as you try to escape his grasp. you feel geto chuckle behind you as you do, shifting in his grasp, before his arms tighten and suddenly you're lifted up.

"no!" you cry out, voice screeching, legs kicking out wildly. "let me go! no!"

gojo grabs you by the ankles, grip bruising as he forces you to stop kicking. geto is walking forward, a arm wrapped around your middle, the other still squeezing your breast, before you feel yourself slammed on top of a desk.

your desk.

your legs are suddenly spread open by gojo, pushing them apart before he steps in between them, forcing them to stay that way as you cry out in refusal.

your hands beat against geto's arms but it's futile. he's way too strong. they both are.

"stop it!" you scream, hoping that if you can't fight them off on your own, maybe someone will hear you. megumi or yuji, or even nobara... if not them, maybe the principle... "let me go! get off of me! no! stop—!"

your cries are muffled by a hand pressing against your lips. it's geto, having let go of your breast as to wrap around your mouth. he presses hard, leaving muffled cries to escape your lips as you try and shake your head.

"she's sure got a mouth on her, huh?" geto laughs, and you let out a growl in response, bucking your hips up.

"can't wait until she's screaming our names," gojo agrees, and your eyes widen in disbelief as he grabs the edge of your skirt and lifts it, flipping it up to reveal your bright pink panties with little hearts all over them. your face burns as you feel both of their eyes zone in on your crotch.

"well," geto groans, "isn't that just adorable?"

gojo looks like a mad man, desperate as he leans forward, taking off his glasses, and lowering his face before pressing it directly against your clothed pussy. a muffled scream of indignation leaves your lips, muted behind geto's hand, as you both see and feel gojo breathe in deeply, nose pressing directly against your clit.

"mm! n-no!"

leaning back, gojo's eyes are dazed as he stares past you at geto. "she smells... heavenly."

geto lets out a moan, nails digging into your belly, as he leans forward, as if trying to get whatever whiff of you he can get himself.

"here," gojo calls a second later, stepping back and grabbing your legs by the ankles again. "let's get her on her knees."

you try to fight, but it's futile. even as you squirm and scream, geto keeps his hand firm around your lips and the both of them manhandle you easily to your knees, before finally, geto pulls his hand away, still behind you; the both of them now fully towering over you.

mouth free, your lips part instantly to scream but you're cut off by a sharp slap against your cheek.

it stings, and your hands fall to your red cheek in disbelief, staring up at your teacher. it's one thing for geto, still equally as horrible, but for some reason it hurts even more to have your own teacher, the man who taught you everyday, to treat you like this.

to do this to you.

"it'll be a lot worse if you don't stop screaming," geto calls out and you slowly glance up at him. "don't get us wrong. we'd love to hear you scream but we don't want to risk anyone hearing. you'll have to wait until we're in a more private place."

the meaning of his words is not lost on you — 'you'll have to wait' means there'll be a next time.

you... you don't want a next time.

"we don't need to remind you that we are the two strongest sorcerers," gojo then speaks, the barely concealed threat clear as you blink up at him. "and i know you both are aware of our abilities... you're still afraid of curses, aren't you?"

inhaling sharply, you curl into yourself.

gojo's hand falls on top of your head, mockingly compassionate; "we don't want suguru to bring out one of his curses just to get you to cooperate, do we?"

the tears finally fall then. having welled up in your eyes the second geto had touched you, but refusing to let them fall in a futile attempt at strength. though, you feel like nothing in that moment as the tears finally break free, a whimper leaving your lips as you shake your head.

"aw, it's okay," gojo mumbles, ruffling your hair. "there's no need to cry."

"we don't want to scare you if we don't have to," geto adds as you turn to him with blurred, watery eyes. "all you have to do is be our good little girl, okay?"

ignoring the violent shake of your body, you nod.

"words, angel. we need to hear you say it."

"y-yes," you force out, voice trembling, pitching in your distress. "i... i promise i'll be a g-good girl... sensei's."

they both beam, eyes twinkling at your submission, you continue to sit there, forced on your knees, tears streaming down your cheeks and snot nosed as they shift. you're careful not to move, not to try and sit up, as geto moves so he's stood in front of you as well. they're intimidating, incredibly so, stood in front of you, your head crained back to glance up at you, face lined with their crotches.

"we appreciate your words, angel, but we need a little more from you for us to believe you."

your eyes widen at gojo's words.

"just to make sure," geto tries to assure. "have you ever sucked a guy off before?"

your face burns at his words, mortification burning through your entire body. eyes lowering, you grip your skirt once more, a way to comfort yourself, and shake your head. "n-no... i... i haven't."

you don't see the way that makes the both of them sparkle with delight.

"look at that, suguru. i told you i was right," gojo grins, practically dancing in the spot. "our pretty baby is too innocent for her own good."

geto laughs. "which means we get to teach her."

"exactly."

"please..." you whisper, "i... i'm scared. i don't... i don't want this."

"oh, angel, it's okay," gojo coos, crouching to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking the skin in languid movements. "we'll take you every step of the way. there's no need to be scared."

he's pulling away a second later, and you watch as the both of them unbuckle their pants, pushing it down to their knees, before pulling their cocks out from their underwear. your eyes widen at the sight, having never seen a penis in real life before; only ever in the porn videos you watched sometimes at night to masturbate.

but even then, you know both of them are... large.

gojo's is longer and leaner, veiny and pink at the top. you see a bit of pre-cum at the tip, and it's hard, standing straight against his toned stomach. while geto's is slightly shorter, it's thicker, veiner then gojo's and standing up, just as hard as gojo's. your chest tightens with fear at the prospect of what they want you to do with them.

"you're gonna suck us off, okay?" gojo explains, thumbing at him and then geto. "we're gonna train you to take all of us in that warm, precious little mouth of yours."

"you might gag at first," geto shrugs, "but we'll train you out of that too."

the fear has you not thinking straight, forgetting their earlier threat as you try to shuffle back. you barely make it a second before geto is grabbing a handful of your hair and tugging you towards him, pressing your cheek directly against his cock as you sob.

"pl-please!"

"it's okay, baby, we'll take it slow."

geto pulls you back, hand still gripped in your hair and gojo leans forward, hand falling on your jaw and squeezing.

"open up, pretty," gojo orders.

you press your lips together, shaking your head best you can in their grip. "mm-mm—"

squeezing, gojo's fingers press against your cheeks, your face twisting in pain as geto yanks, hard, on your hair.

"open. now. we won't ask again."

eyes clenching shut, you open your mouth, only a little at first before geto is shifting, pressing his length directly against your lips. he forces himself forward, hips jutting forward, your mouth being split open without warning as he sheathes himself into your war, hot mouth.

your eyes bulge as he hits the back of your throat, gagging, your reflex causing you body to tense as you feel like you're going to throat up. your hands move to press against geto's thighs, trying to pull away, but he holds you there for a second.

"relax," he hisses, "relax. it'll make it easier."

you can't listen. your eyes water as you gag, slapping his thighs as you feel like you can't breathe, panic welling within you.

he pulls away a second later and you gasp, coughing as spit dribbles down your chin and the tears well down your cheek. you're convulsing on your knees, trying to pull away from his grip on your hair, choking and gasping for breath.

then, a second later, you're gagging on another cock, this time hitting further down the back of your throat and you realize gojo's grabbed your hair as well to fuck into your mouth.

being longer, your reflex is spasming and you're coughing around his cock, nails digging into the skin of his thighs.

he pulls away and then thrusts back in a second later. your eyes shut as you try to ease your throat and focus on breathing, body twitching in response.

"that's it," gojo groans, "relax your throat. like suguru said."

he thrusts a couple more times, before your head is turned to the left once more, and geto thrusts into your mouth. he rocks himself, both their hands tangled in your hair, the sounds of your spit and choking all you can hear over their moans.

"fuck!" geto hisses, "that's it! wrap your lips around me!"

"she looks so fucking hot like this," gojo calls, eyes focused on you.

your face is red, eyes watering, mascara dripping down your face from your tears and spit slipping down the length of your neck from your chin. you looked completely fucked out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try to take both of them, hands still digging welts into their thighs.

you're shifted back to gojo, him using your mouth for a minute before giving you back to geto. and that repeats, both of them using you to their disgression, moaning in response, calling out your praises as you're used as their glory hole until their movements become rocky, sharp and jutted.

"fuck! i'm almost there!"

"you can cum in her mouth," geto oblidges but you barely hear him. "i wanna cum on her face!"

gojo mumbles out his thanks, geto's hands leaving you as gojo grabs you with his free hand, forcing your head back and forth around his cock. geto, position his cock right across your fingers, pumps himself, and you're back to pushing against gojo's things, throat burning.

"just—fuck!"

gojo's movements halt, keeping his cock pressed to the back of his throat as he lets out a muffled groan, and you feel something warm and bitter flood your mouth. your face twists as it does, trying to pull away so you can spit it out but gojo's grip remains tight, holding you there.

his pubic hair tickles your face, only able to breathe in the scent of him.

"don't forget—ah, about me, pretty!"

a second later, that same warmth is splattering across your face, geto angling so his cum spurts onto your eyes and cheek.

gojo finally lets go then, and you jump back, coughing and sputtering as you blink, trying to catch up to what happened. you're trying to spit out the cum, but then a hand is forcing your jaw shut and another is pinching your nose. you hadn't been able to catch your breath before and you panic, forced to swallow the cum that had been forced into your throat.

the hands pull back and you gag, pressing your palms to the floor to steady yourself, knees burning from pressing against the hard wood. the taste is bitter and overwhelms your entire sense, wiping at your face only to feel sticky, pulling back to see geto's cum on your fingers.

"fuck," geto whispers, "she looks so pretty."

"covered in our cum," gojo agrees, "our little cumdump slut."

you stare back at them, hurt and bewildered, trying to rub geto's cum off of your face.

"what..." your voice is practically gone, faint as your throat burns from their misuse, staring back at them. you want to say something but you don't know what to say.

"look at her, suguru, she looks hurt."

"poor little girl."

"she feels left out."

"we should reward her. she proved herself after all."

reward... you didn't like the sound of that.

you shake your head and try to pull away, but as it's been this entire time, you're not strong or quick enough; your movements even slower now after their abuse. geto grabs you with ease and gojo is brushing your hair out of your face as they lift you to your feet, hands lifting your skirt and grabbing your panties, pulling them down.

you don't have the fight left to stop them, a pitiful whine leaving your lips as you're shimmied out of your panties, a cold wind hitting your pussy.

your skirt is left on, and then you're being sat on geto's leg, your legs on either side of his thigh and your bare crotch pressing against the soft material of his pants.

you hadn't even realized he'd pulled his pants back up.

gojo's chest presses against your back, and as geto's hands grip your hips, keeping you steady, gojo's work to unbutton your blouse. he does so with ease, swift fingers working fast before he's pulling off your shirt, left in only your bra and skirt.

"isn't she so pretty, suguru?" gojo asks, presenting you to his eyes.

"beautiful," geto whispers, thumbs caressing circles into your sides.

flushed and dazed, your hands move to try and stop them and gojo easily pushes them back down.

"here," gojo mumbles, "let's get that bra off of you, huh?"

"i don't...—"

he doesn't listen, fingers unclasping your bra and slipping it off your shoulders, leaving your breasts free. goosebumps flood your skin once more and your nipples harden at the cold hair, left bare and completely vulnerable.

gojo doesn't waste anytime, hands moving to grab both of your breasts with his much larger hands and squeezes, eliciting a gasp of surprise from your lips.

geto moans at the sound.

"it's your turn, baby," gojo whispers in your ear, voice low and guttural. "you're gonna ride suguru's thigh."

eyes widening, you meet geto's eyes. "i... i don't—ah!" gojo pinches your nipples and your back straightens, overwhelmed by the new sensations you were experiencing. "i don't know how!"

"it's okay," geto soothes, his voice softer than it had been this entire time. "i'll guide you." and for emphasis, his hands tighten around your hips, and he pulls, guiding you forward. you forced to comply, and your back curves as your pussy drags across the material of his pants, pressing against your clit as you gasp.

"oh!"

"that's it," gojo smiles against your neck, pressing a kiss there, "like that. good girl."

geto pushes back, and the sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt as he drags your pussy across his thigh. the firmness of his toned thigh combined with the material of his pants has you seeing stars, head falling back against gojo's shoulders as the bliss wells in you.

masturbating by yourself has never felt this good.

even as you're forced to grind, neck sucked and kissed by gojo, his hands squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples, pulling, the pleasure is undeniable. geto's hands move you, rocking you back and forth, the movements turning smooth as your pussy grows wet, leaving a trail of your juice on geto's thigh.

"oh! oh, god!" you cry out, and gojo is quick to let go of one of your breast, hand falling to your mouth, forcing it open to press his fingers against your tongue, pulling at your lips painfully and muffling your cries. "mm! ah!"

you start to move with geto, chasing your high as it overhwhelms your senses, unable to think of anything else. it's enough that geto can let go, grabbing your hands instead and sbegins uck on your fingers.

it's sinful the way he does. letting his tongue drag across your palm, wrapping around the tips of your fingers, sucking in a way that has you ashamed to even witness.

"that's a good girl," geto praises in between sucking. "get off on my thigh. just like that."

"you look so hot," gojo moans, "look so pretty. our pretty little slut."

his fingers force themselves further down your throat, and your moans gag on his fingers, body twitching as the coil starts to tighten and you see white in your vision.

"you gonna cum?" geto asks, leaning forward to suck on the nipple gojo's hand neglected, holding your hands against his chest. "gonna cum, angel?"

you nod in gojo's hands, "ah! yesh! yesh im gonna cum—mm!"

"go ahead," gojo edges, pulling at your nipple, twisting. "cum on suguru's thigh like the filthy slut you are."

your vision blurs and the coil snaps then, egged on by their words and actions, movements jerking to a stop as you twitch on geto's lap. gojo's hand moves to cover your lips completely, fingers soaked in your spit, muffling your cry as you orgasm. geto suck on your other nipple, using his tongue to swirl across it, the pleasure blinding as you experience a feeling you never have before.

they help you ride out your high, gojo pressing kisses along the side of your neck as geto shifts to bite along your breast, the pain mixing with the pleasure as you spasm in his lap.

as the pleasure fades, their movements slow and gojo's hands leave your lips as you slump forward, exhausted and used.

gojo and geto glance at each other, watching as you slump against geto, before a moment later, your body begins to shake, sobs pouring from your lips as everything catches up to you. even if you are crying against one of the men who'd done this to you, you have no strength to try and pull away, letting them hold you as you like, sobbing.

you're ashamed and violated. they'd forced you, used you to their whims, and still... you'd gotten off on your own teacher's thigh. you'd cummed from their actions and had even grinded yourself. you felt like filth, exhausted and mortified.

and scared.

"don't cry, angel," gojo brushes your hair back as geto moves to brush off the crusted cum dried on your face. "it's okay. we understand you didn't mean to hurt us."

you let out a cry at their twisted words, using your vulnerability to twist into a story that fits their needs.

"besides," geto moves to continue. "now that we understand each other, everything will be better from now on, right?"

you just press your face harder against the crook of his neck.

"what a cry baby," gojo laughs, dragging his nails across your back.

"our cry baby," geto corrects. "you hear that baby, your ours now?"

"ours to use as we like," gojo clarifies as if that's needed.

"exactly. and next time, i wanna cum inside her."

"me too. we need to train her ass to take us too."

a sharp slap is delivered across your bum for emphasis.

your sobs grow louder in response, as geto and gojo simply laugh, petting your hair and rubbing your back.

#yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere geto #yandere satosugu #jjk x reader #getou smut #getou suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satosugu x reader #tw.noncon #tw.dark content #tw.yandere

395 notes · View notes

twstchaos · 11 months

Text

“im making gyros, anyone want”

I wanted domestic Idia X Kore, so I made myself domestic Idia X Kore with a heaping side of me craving gyros.

Characters: Kore Meraki (OC) and Idia Shroud

Word Count: 1,659

I referenced a lamb gyro recipe for this fic and you can check it out here~

I am opening up writing requests and am willing to write pretty much anything within reason.

Please enjoy~

~~~

Kore laid out the various ingredients over the kitchen counter, additionally taking into the count the collection of spices stored in the cupboards. She picked up her phone to check if anyone responded to her text. Nothing.

“Guess, I’ll just make for myself…” she mumbled to herself, sliding back to the recipe tab. Kore read the directions to herself before starting. As if by instinct, she pulled upon the oven door, checking if it was empty before preheating.

“I–I would like one…”

Kore spun around to see Idia standing in the doorway, twiddling his thumbs.

“Alright, you could’ve just told me in the chat, though.”

He shook his head.

“I also wanna maybe help you.”

“You? Wanting to help me cook?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Who are you and what have you done with my dorm leader?” Kore teased.

“Oh hush, I’ll let you know that I passed the Master Chef course.” Idia crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

“And I’m so proud of you for doing so~” Kore laughed. “But sure, you can help. The recipe is on my phone, and I just preheated the oven.”

Idia nodded as he picked up her phone, nearly dropping it after the screen lit up, revealing her wallpaper. No matter how many times he has seen the picture of Kore kissing his cheek, he still gets butterflies in his stomach.

“Didya read it yet?”

Idia jumped when he saw Kore standing in front of him.

“Ack, not yet.” He quickly unlocked her phone and skimmed through the recipe. He tilted his head to the side as he read the ingredients list. “Hm? You don’t usually use lamb.”

“Wanted to try something new,” she responded with a shrug. “Okay, so Mister Master Chef, what’s the next step?”

Idia read over the recipe again, then he looked over the counter. “You didn’t set up the pan.”

Kore smiled at him. “Good eye.” She dug in one of the bottom cupboards for a suitable loaf pan. Then, per the recipe, she lined it with aluminum foil. “Alright, what’s next~?”

Idia reread the recipe to himself again. “It says to mix the ground lamb, grated red onion, and all the herbs and spices together in a bowl.”

Kore placed a large mixing bowl on to the clear part of the counter, then she plucked a red onion from the dish of various vegetables.

“I still don’t understand why it’s called a ‘red’ onion when it’s purple.” Idia commented, watching as Kore removed the red skin, discarding it into the brown paper bag.

Kore chuckled as she brought out the grater from a cupboard. “Did you actually want an answer to that or are you just saying things?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know miss ‘historically, there was no such thing as purple, so they used other colors to describe it’.”

“Good to know that you do listen to my historical rants.” Kore grated the onion into tiny pieces.

Idia cautiously eyed the sharp metallic surface and her fingers. As her fingers dipped nervously close to the edge, he winced as if his own fingers were sliced.

Kore watched him out of the corner of her eye.

“Don’t worry, I won’t slice myself.” She placed the half-grated onion on the cutting board, then she turned towards him, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Plus, I have you to care for me if I do.”

His hair flashed pink as he hid his blush in the crook of her neck. “Stop,” he whined. Kore giggled, hugging him closer.

“Well, this looks like enough ‘redness’ for this recipe.” She teased, letting Idia go to return back to cooking. He fumbled with his girlfriend’s phone to look over the recipe again.

“...and all the herbs and spices…could have specified what they meant by ‘herbs and spices’,” complained the Ignihyde dorm leader.

“That usually means that you can use any seasoning blend.” Kore grabbed two plastic bottles and two shakers from another cupboard. “So, we could use this for the ‘herbs and spices’ and some salt, pepper, and garlic powder.” She placed the four containers on to the counter then grabbed a knife from the block and sliced open the plastic wrap and plopped the raw lamb into the metallic mixing bowl.

“Would you like to do the honors?” Kore held out the dish filled with the grated onion to Idia.

“Uh, sure.” He took the dish from her and dropped its contents into the bowl and turned back to Kore. She was busying herself with measuring out the seasonings into smaller dishes.

“Go ahead and add ‘em in while I finish measuring out the rest.” And he did, piling the emptied dishes in a neat tower in the sink. Kore added in the last of the seasonings before returning the bottles and shakers back into the cupboards.

Idia cringed as he recalled the next step in the recipe and his experience during the Master Chef program.

“Ugh, I don’t wanna touch the raw meat,” he whined, pushing Kore towards the bowl.

“Fine, you big baby, I’ll mix it.” She rolled her eyes, digging through a drawer for a pair of gloves. Kore slipped the gloves on and began to squish the ingredients, mixing the raw lamb, grated onion, and seasonings together.

Idia watched in silence as she mixed the food. His arms snaked their way around her waist and his chin rested on her shoulder. Kore chuckled, leaning her head against his.

“This feels nice,” she said as she continued to mix. “Very domestic.”

“Yeah,” Idia agreed, hugging her tighter.

Once the ingredients were sufficiently mixed, Kore pulled the loaf pan closer, sliding in the mix. She hummed to herself as she flattened the meat to fit snugly into the pan. Still with Idia attached to her, Kore rolled her eyes as she dragged him towards the oven.

“Idia, you gotta let go.”

“Nah.” He squeezed tighter. Kore sighed as she pulled open the oven door and slid in the loaf pan. She turned around in his arms, facing his front and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Now we wait half an hour for the meat to cook. Have any suggestions on how we should spend our time?” Kore teased, pulling his head closer, their lips nearly touching.

“I have one…” Idia mumbled while slowly closing the space between them.

“And I have another one.” She smirked, pulling away. “Prepping the toppings.” In response, Idia pouted with a huff. To which, Kore chuckled.

“Alright, one kiss, then prep.” She gave him a kiss before turning back towards the strewn about ingredients. Idia finally let go of his beloved, taking his place next to her to attempt to help prepare the toppings.

“So, what do we need to do?” asked Idia, carefully following Kore’s actions and pulling a random knife out of the knife block.

“Well, first, we gotta grab you another knife, because that’s the good bread knife.” Kore took the knife from him, slipped it back into its respective slot, and pulled out another, smaller in size with a serrated blade. “This one is mainly for slicing up veggies, so that’s what you’ll be in charge of.”

Idia nodded as the knife along with a wooden cutting board, two tomatoes, and the remaining half of the red onion were laid out in front of him. He picked up the knife in his left and awkwardly held down a tomato with his right. Slowly, Idia began to saw into the red flesh.

“Don’t forget, you’re dicing that, so make four slices.” Kore reminded, watching as he cut into the tomato. Idia painstakingly slowly sliced the tomato into four uneven slices. She then instructed him to cut up the slices in a grid pattern. The first clump of diced tomatoes came out wonky but as he sliced up the other three, his technique improved. With a confident smirk, Idia slid the diced up tomatoes to the side and began work on the second with much neater cuts.

Idia giggled, satisfied with his accomplishment. “I did it.”

“Good job.” She moved the diced tomatoes off of the cutting board and into a small bowl. “Now, let's see how you handle the onion.”

Idia glanced beside her and noticed that the head of lettuce that once sat in front of her was now completely deconstructed and shredded in a plastic bag next to his bowl of diced tomatoes. He wondered to himself how she was able to get that done so quickly.

“So, how do I cut this? Also diced?” He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped the tomato juice off of the knife.

“The recipe calls for sliced, but you can dice ‘em if you want to. I’m fine with either.”

With an eager smile, Idia held down the onion and prepared to dice.

“Dicing onions is different from dicing tomatoes.” Idia stopped, just barely breaking the skin.

“To dice an onion, y’see that weird rooty bit? That’s the root, face the tip of the knife towards it and cut vertically.” He did as Kore told her, the cuts coming out wonky and uneven.

“Alright, hold the onion tight and carefully cut horizontally into it.” Idia was hesitant. He awkwardly held the onion, doing his best to avoid slicing into his fingers.

“Now, face your knife parallel to the root and chop to the root.” Idia watched as after each slice, the onion fell into tiny bits till all that was left was the diced up onion and the root end in his hand.

“Congrats, you now know how to dice a tomato and an onion,” Kore said with a smile. She checked the timer for the lamb on her phone. “Hmm, we still have a lot of time before the meat is done.” Kore smirked, hugging his waist and pulling him closer. “Wanna circle back to your idea to pass the time?”

#michi writes #kore meraki #twst oc #idia shroud #idia shroud x oc #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland #disney twst

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anachronisims · 3 years

Photo

Nadii’ya: “Oy, Chipmunk, good morning! What are you doing playing in this tree, hmm? Where’s your dada gone to?”

Linus: “Heeheeheee nesstore!”

Nadii’ya: “Next... you mean he went to another cave instead of coming home from the Fishin’ Hole??!”

Linus: “Yah! Kizzme, Mama! Godda poop!”

Nadii’ya: ::smooch:: “Okie dokie, Linus, let’s try the potty then, okay?”

Linus: “KAY!”

Nadii’ya: Why in all of simulated creation would he go take care of the neighbors’ kids instead of our own?!

#fun fact until i was like ten i thought it was 'next store' not 'next door' because my family mumbles like whoa #meraki y1d7 #brown: nadiiya #brown: linus #brown lineage #ts2 gameplay #ts2 test of time #test of time challenge #ts2 historical #historical sims #meraki

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dreamiehrs · 3 years

Text

2:41 pm /

there were currently 39 minutes until the school day would be over for renjun, who was attempting to study for his finals that were a few days from now. however, it was quite a difficult task for renjun to study for two reasons: one, it was quite impossible for renjun to study with you sitting beside him, since your looks were enough to distract him for hours on end, and two, his annoying ass friend who couldn’t keep quiet for one second kept on bothering him while studying.

with those two within his vicinity, it was near impossible for him to get anything done.

“jaemin, do you want me to come over there and cover your mouth with duct tape?” renjun pipes up after silently studying for a few minutes, interrupting jaemin’s story about how he almost got a heart attack from drinking too much coffee one day.

you chuckle beside him at his remark, and a grin finds its way onto renjun’s face as he gazes at jaemin, who is giving him a deadpan look. “you really don’t want to hear my story that much, huh?”

“...jaem, I’m literally trying to study for finals over here. I would appreciate it if you would shut it for a bit, or else I’m really going to get some duct tape and shut your mouth myself.”

jaemin pouts. “well, at least it seems like y/n still wants to listen to my story, right y/n?” he glances over at you, who was looking over renjun’s shoulder to see what he was studying. jaemin waited patiently for you to answer, but you were too absorbed with what renjun was studying instead that you hadn’t heard jaemin at all.

jaemin dramatically slides down in his chair, and you and renjun are surprised at how the teacher hasn’t scolded him for not taking this time to study for his finals. “it seems as though no one wants to listen to my story, then…” he mumbles to himself, but then it seems as though an idea has popped up in his head as he jumps up. “I have an idea! I’ll just write down the entire story on two separate pieces of paper and throw them at you two during finals next week! how about that?”

you silently shake your head at jaemin’s idea, while renjun looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel.

“jaemin and y/n, if either of you dare to disturb me during my finals, I will personally take it upon myself to go to your house the following night and strangle you right then and there… and while this goes for the both of you, I am putting more emphasis on jaemin in this situation since he annoys me more.”

before jaemin got a chance to respond, the teacher walked over to him and gave him a long scolding on how he should be studying for his finals instead of goofing around. renjun was now relieved that one of his distractions had been removed for now, yet he still had to deal with you and your looks that distracted him to no end.

however, he was more likely to put up with your attractive looks than jaemin’s nonstop mouth.

w.c: 541 words ♡ warning(s): slight swearing ♡ pairing: renjun x reader ♡ genre: comedy/crack, fluff

requested by: @meraki-mark (12 w/renjun~)

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mochii0park · 3 years

Text

meraki; 02 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: Throughout your whole life you lived in your sister’s shadow, watching from side-lines as she formed herself into a successful businesswoman with an envying life. Never being able to fill her shoes you gradually understood the meaning of an estranged family and the burden it carried. The twenties began slowly slipping from your grasp which had been embedded with insecurities and longing for fulfilment. Pouring your heart out to strangers with a pseudonym meraki, you began second guessing the decision when an email lands in your inbox.

Author's note: unedited, i had fun writing this chapter tbh

Taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist message me

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

< chapter 01 | next chapter >

You absentmindedly twirl in your chair, chewing on the pencil in your hand. The ticking of the clock was inaudible from the loud sound of keys smashing against the keyboard. Your mind raced in different directions and to say you were anxious was an understatement. A black polished oxford shoe lands harshly on the surface of your chair halting your twirl. The stain is starkly visible, inhabiting your mind and annoying you endlessly.

Min Yoongi pulls his foot back; the action makes your chair stroll backwards the back hitting your desk. “I am not paying you to slack off during work hours.”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll your eyes. He exhales, leans forward, and takes the sheet of paper from your lap. You could feel the level of disappointment rise with each sigh as he reads the lines of the text.

“I understand inspiration has to come to you, but it’s been months.” He scraps the paper throwing it into the bin, the action itself telling you what he thought of your work.

To be honest your thoughts on it didn’t differ much.

“I am sorry. It hasn’t been my month.” Or your year. You cower further into the chair. It was embarrassing enough to fall behind because of your private issues but having your higher up pity you was by far worse.

Yoongi shakes his head taking a seat on the sofa. He unbuttons his sleeve pulling them until they reached his elbows. Working for him for over two years made you know that whatever matter he was about to discuss was serious.

“The single didn’t do well,” you nod as you recall seeing it flop dramatically,” We need to produce an album that will reach the top ten charts. That won’t happen if you sit here twirling for hours with nothing to show me.”

“I understand.” He clicks his tongue, a ding from his phone gaining his attention as he signals for you to hold your thought.

You mumble hypocrite under your breath relieved when he gives no reaction to the word as he locks his phone looking straight at you. He crosses his legs, hands intervened on his knee as he rocks back and forward.

He glances up at the ceiling whistling an unfamiliar tune. After a few seconds, he stops rocking, taps his knees enthusiastically and walks towards the guitar. He whistles the tune over and over until he manages to perfectly string it through guitar chords. You stare at him watching closely as he scribbles a few notes and tosses the paper to you.

“Try to write something that would go well with this tune.” -was the last thing he said before he put the guitar back in its stand and left the room.

You let the frustration out through a scream, the soundproof plates securing it between the four walls. Ignoring the papers laying in front of you, you dig through the content of your purse. You extract pack of cigarettes. The clock on the desk flashes 10 pm and you know a long night was ahead of you.

The lobby was empty, the patter of your shoes cutting the silence. You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for the lift to take you to the rooftop. Smoking was forbidden in the KT entertainment building so your only options either the roof or the yard in front of the company.

“Graveyard shift?” A voice to your right says.

You scoff placing a cigarette in the mouth. “Yeah, you too?”

Baekhyun nods following you inside the lift. “I wish trouble wouldn’t follow Jungkook everywhere he went.”

“He got into a scandal?” Baekhyun catches the doubt in your voice and smiles.

He closes his eyes, resting his head against the mirror. You watch with pity as he breathes out in defeat. “It wasn’t him per se. A friend of his caused ruckus in a karaoke bar in Busan. Somebody sent an image of him leaving the bar. He was drunk and accompanied by a girl.”

You whistle at the last part. Idols getting caught with a female was almost like a death sentence for their career, no matter if the female was just a friend. Jungkook was the star of KT Entertainment, the one who brought the revenue. The idol has had a clean image so far. He did drink and lit a cigarette with his friends but, who didn’t? Although he wasn’t problematic, he had a knacker for attracting trouble.

The lift stops at your designated floor and Baekhyun jumps already halfway through the door. You follow behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself for some warmth. The cold night leaves traces over your cheeks, reddening them. You inhale the air, the scent reminding you of last year’s autumn. The image of Seokjin smiling at you as he crunches leaves is shattered by Baekhyun. He stops in front of you a spark flashing from his lighter casting different shades over his face.

You lean in, inhaling the nicotine as the tip of the cigarette burns. You observe him as he inhales a smoke before exhaling it and making a circle out of it. You often forgot he was six years your senior. His youthful face and the lively person often misled people believing he was far younger.

He leans against the rail, a hand in the pocket of his jeans. The scenery in front of you looked like a young adult novel. The light of the city flashed behind Baekhyun, his figure coming out as a blur because of the smoke. His newly dyed red hair catching your attention.

The silence between you wasn’t an awkward one, on the contrary, it was comforting. Finding a smoke-buddy like him was a blessing. He wasn’t very talkative despite his upbeat personality; he somehow distinguished your emotions well and knew when to speak and when to be silent.

“Did Yoongi punish you again?” He breaks your train of thoughts, choosing the spot closest to you to stand.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it punishment,” you throw the bud on the floor stepping over it lightly before you throw it in the bin, “but I do have to write some lyrics to a beat of his choosing.”

“Sounds like a punishment to me.” He chuckles as he lits another cigarette.

You shrug your shoulders. Working with Yoongi hadn’t been at all difficult as how people told you it would be. When you applied for the position, you read various posts on forums about Yoongi’s wrath and the difficulty of the tasks he gave. Many people criticised him for his mentorship, but you had found it refreshing. He never sugar-coated his opinion; he was straight to the point kind of a guy, and you liked it. Well, not every single time but you can’t have the best of both worlds in this industry.

“I can handle it. He’s right, I am behind deadlines, and I should focus on work instead of my personal life.”

Baekhyun looks like he wants to say something but quickly changes his mind. Throwing the bud over the rail he presses the down button. You punch him on his shoulder, hating the way he never cared much about the environment and the disposal of his trash.

“I’ll see you around. Maybe for a coffee next time?” Baekhyun smiles as you exit the lift, and you hum a quiet yes before going in the direction of your studio.

A part of you always felt bad for turning down Baekhyun’s invites for a coffee. You knew his motives were nothing but friendly seeing as you’ve met his long-term girlfriend Dayhun. The two were a match made in heaven having the same humour and playful personality. Sometimes it came to the point where they morphed into one person which gave you the creeps.

You laid on the couch, legs looking at the ceiling, back twisted and the head narrowed to the floor. It was half-past midnight, and inspiration was lacking in every sense. You scrunched the papers with words you thought were bad and aimed for the bin in the corner. You have yet to hit the bin, the papers lying next to it.

You were about to throw the next paper when your phone buzzed. Deeming the notification oh so important you fish it out of your back pocket staring at the screen. Yoongi’s name appears under the official e-mail inviting all the employers of the KT Entertainment tomorrow for a celebration of Jeon Jungkook winning an award for the Male Musician of the Year Netizen Vote and his single Still with You winning the Best Pop Song.

You sit up straight preparing yourself to decline the invite when a message pops up.

Min the Boss Yoongi

The invitation isn’t optional for you. You are required to come.

Y/N

You didn’t even ask if I was busy tomorrow night?

Min the BOSS Yoongi

Are you busy tomorrow night?

Y/N

No, but that’s beside the po-

Min the BOSS Yoongi

Great, see you at 8 pm tomorrow.

You massage your temples trying not to sink further into the frustration you felt for this man.

Y/N

Fine.

Min the BOSS Yoongi

I wrote that everyone could bring a plus one if they desire, seeing as the two of us and Jeon’s manager will be working tomorrow night, I highly advise you not to bring a plus one. I won’t mind if you do, but they might since you will be by my side most of the time.

You type a quick reply and toss the phone into your bag. Sehun wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of a plus one knowing he wanted to infiltrate himself into the upper society. Meeting people of such status equalled cases with greater stakes and greater stakes meant higher pay. You were gathering your belonging when a soft knock on the door caught your attention.

Baekhyun’s head pops behind the doors. “I was about to leave do you need a ride?”

You smile at him and nod. Baekhyun gives you a thumbs up, happy knowing he won’t be driving home alone at this hour. Luckily for you, he lived nearby and had given you plenty of times a ride. You get up from the couch and throw your purse over your shoulder, locking the studio.

As you walk to the car you discuss tomorrow’s party in Jungkook’s honour. You chuckle as Baekhyun grabs his head already imagining scandalous scenes pernicious for Jungkook’s career.

______

At the sight of the guests’ attire, you felt severely underdressed. The sleeveless v cut dress tightened by a small knot on each side of your shoulders fell a little bit above your knees. Combat boots were your go-to footwear on such occasions, unlike the rest of the women at the party you needed to feel comfortable in order to finish tasks. You had to run around from one place to the other, obeying each order your boss gave. Sometimes you felt more like a secretary than a songwriter. Under such circumstances, high heels weren’t an option unless you wanted blisters.

The metal rings on your fingers clanged against the glass deconcentrating you. The room swarm of people of different ages and statuses. You fell back blending well with the rest of the staff you tolerated. Baekhyun stood next to Jungkook, the younger if closely examined looked exhausted. Yoongi stood a few feet away talking to a group of men, some that you recognized.

A hand taps your shoulder, a familiar lavender scented perfume reaches your nose. Momo lays her head on your shoulder. “I thought this was a party. It feels more like a business gathering.”

Momo had been the main choreographer at the KT Entertainment. She was the type of person whom you couldn’t hate even if you wanted to. Kind natured and a bit naïve, she was the heart of the company always ready to help you or brighten your day.

You chuckle as you pat her head while she twists the straw in her cocktail. “Well, Min Yoongi organized it. He wouldn’t know what fun was even if it hit him straight in the face.”

Momo chuckles. “But he sure knew what handsome meant. Look at those men at his side.”

Something you noticed while working for him was the pallet of handsome men he knew which he called close friends. The first you met was Park Jimin, a highly respected dancer that occasionally stepped in to fill for Momo when she was absent. He was very charming and well equipped with words that bared red shade to the cheeks of female employers.

After Jimin, you’ve met Kim Namjoon, a literary professor who frequently reviewed your work. He was shy which often came off as reserved but overall, he was a pleasant company to have when going through your lyrics. He gave them the spark that was much needed to make the song into a hit.

Next to Namjoon stood Kim Taehyung. You’ve met him on one occasion when you barged into Yoongi’s office after he sent a rather rude message. Out of all Yoongi’s friends, he was the one you knew the least. Unlike Namjoon’s unintentional cold behaviour Taehyung’s was deliberate. He didn’t even introduce himself as he left the office making you feel like shit for interrupting what seemed an important meeting.

Another person who was part of Yoongi's close circle is Kim Seokjin, who recommended you to Yoongi. The two were childhood friends and somehow, you’ve never heard of the name Yoongi until two years ago. As much as you hated Jin now, you were still grateful for his help.

The last person in the circle was unfamiliar to you. He fitted well with the others, his handsome face wearing a smile that never flattened through the conversation as he jumped into Yoongi’s words a few times causing the gang to laugh. He had to be very close to Yoongi for your boss not to bash him for interjecting but rather send him a smile.

Momo lifts her head from your shoulder and stands in front of you. “Did you notice one of Yoongi’s friends absent from parties?”

You swallow a lump at the thought of your best friend before you quickly shake your head. “No, not really.”

“Call me crazy but I’m sure I saw Kim Seokjin at these parties before.”

“Can’t recall. Why do you care about him when Park Jimin is over there?” You try to change the subject hoping Momo would take the bait.

She huffs rolling her eyes. “You know I am not a big fan of him. Sure, his work is splendid but him? His personality? It needs a major rework.”

You chuckle at her disgusted expression as she jabs the olive pretending it was Jimin’s face. “Well, then you have Jeon Jungkook.”

“What am I? The company’s serial dater? Can I be honest with you?”, Momo says you follow her line-of-sight landing on Jungkook.

“Sure.” You say as you watch him push past people before he stands next to Jimin, engulfing the older one in a hug.

“I am sorry I know you work with his team, but I hate his songs. They feel like all the washed pop songs you hear on the radio. The whole night I’ve been lying to people saying his latest one is amazing.” You laugh loudly at her confession partly sympathising with her. It was ironic how much you both loved the songs you wrote for him and hated.

“No need to apologize just because I work for him.” You shrug off her apologetic smile, her lips fall into a straight line after she swallows a big sip of her drink.

“It’s still kind of awkward. We work together Y/N, I make all of his choreographies.”

“So? Just because you work together doesn’t mean you have to be a fan.” She nods soaking up your words. She goes to take a sip of her drink, but she groans in surprise at the empty glass.

“I’m going to get another cocktail. You want some?”

You shake your head, and she shrugs her shoulder starting to walk away. Before she can disappear from your sight you call out for her. She turns around tilting her head slightly. “Who’s the fifth guy in Yoongi’s circle?”

You watch as she searches for Yoongi and the rest of the gang. The man in question seemingly sensing you spoke of him looks up at you offering you a smile. He was by far the most handsome one in the group by your standards. Dressed from head to toe in red he, stood out in the mass, the waisted suit hugging his body showing off his well-built figure.

Doubting the smile was for you, you look around searching for the real receiver not wanting to look like an idiot if you return it. Seeing your action, the man laughs which catches the attention of the group.

When Yoongi turns around motioning for you to join them you flush. As you pass Momo her touch lingers for a while on your elbow. She darts close whispering in your ear.

“That’s Jung Hoseok.”

The information left you out of breath, the e-mails he kept sending replaying themselves in your mind. You stumble a bit when Momo’s light touch disappears. Feelings a set of eyes on you, you regain your footing and walk towards your boss. Each step feeling heavier.

There was no one else to blame for the situation you found yourself in but yourself. You knew who Hoseok was in theory, he published many bestseller books and everyone who was even remotely into writing had some knowledge of him and his famous company. Although in the last couple of months your newsfeed lacked information about Hoseok’s whereabouts, you brushed it off as him working on a new book.

You knew about him all, but what he looked like. Jung Hoseok managed to avoid the press like his life depended on it. You saw articles of his assistant Yuta standing in his place at promotions and any other public event. If you only dug deeper or asked for the guest list, you could’ve avoided this.

Yoongi places the palm of his hand on your lower back guiding you into the circle. Jeon Jungkook waves giving you a soft but tired smile, Kim Namjoon nods in your direction slowly sipping the wine, Park Jimin gives you a polite greeting while Kim Taehyung acts as if you never existed. You saw Jimin elbow him lightly, but the man never wavered.

Your eyes stop at Hoseok who beams at you stretching his hand. Yoongi leans and whispers into your ear, the loud beating of your heart making it hard to differentiate his words. “Y/N this is Jung Hoseok.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Finally? What did he mean by that?

You muster up what you thought was a smile albeit a weak one but there. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Different questions race through your mind. Was he here because he found out it was you behind the username? Was he even Yoongi’s friend? Had this all been a plot to finally meet you?

“He hasn’t shut up about the Jungkook’s single. Something about it speaking out to him. He’s very excited to meet the writer behind it.” Yoongi tells you making your head snap in his direction.

There was a silent argument going on between you. It took you months before you accepted Namjoon into the small circle of people who knew that behind another pseudonym of yours stood your name. The songs you wrote for Jungkook mostly spoke of unrequited love and heartbreaks and it would mortify you if people knew it was you who wrote it. The pity looks you might get sent a shudder through your body.

“I can’t wait to hear the future songs you will write.” He says clapping enthusiastically unlike you who couldn’t even utter a word besides thanks. You felt like you kept were being rude. You tried your best not to let the events get to you, but it was hard with him bombarding your inbox constantly.

To your side, Yoongi smiles as if silently answering your question. Hoseok didn’t know you wrote the other songs, nobody knew except Namjoon and Yoongi. You exhale in relief, but the tension remains as you look up at Hoseok. He seemed like the mood maker of the group his smile permanently resting on his face.

“We’re currently working on a new song,” Yoongi announces, and you feel like you want the floor to swallow you up.

You notice Jungkook now paying attention to the conversation as Hoseok leans in. Yoongi turns to you putting you on the spot probably knowing you hadn’t written anything. Trying to calm your nerves you imagine Momo or Sehun standing in front of you instead.

The tension in your body slowly shimmers down, and you can feel yourself take control of the anxiety that was the result of the shock you felt from seeing Jung Hoseok.

“Something with a happier note I hope,” Taehyung says, and you wince at his stoic voice.

Hoseok tsks at him. “Whatever Y/N and Yoongi write will be a hit no doubt.”

“Whipped.” Jungkook coughs under his breath and Jimin giggles slapping him softly on the back of his head.

“We’ll see.” Yoongi smiles, and you follow his suit ignoring your burning cheeks.

Whenever you glanced at Hoseok he was already looking back at you. The attention he gave you every time you spoke offered you a feeling of importance that contributed to you speaking more freely in their presence.

“Did you manage to find anyone interesting to publish their work?” Namjoon’s sentence tickles your curiosity shifting your gaze to Hoseok whose smile for the first time tonight drops.

He plays with the drink in his hands prolonging his answer. “I did find someone, but I am not sure if we’ll sign a deal.”

You stiffen at his answer, the e-mails in your phone suddenly felling heavy.

Namjoon’s brow quirks up. “Not satisfied with the writing?”

Hoseok shakes his head, a weak smile on his lips. He bites his tongue before plopping it to the corner of his mouth. “On the contrary,” this seemed to confuse Namjoon,” they haven’t been responding to any of my e-mails.”

“That’s hard to believe.” Jimin joins the conversation, your attention changing between them as they speak.

"Did you offer them a bad contract?" Namjoon buts in jokingly once he finishes his drink.

Hoseok puckers his lips, slowly looking at Namjoon. "There was no contract to begin with."

"Your conversation gives me a headache. Can you finish the story in one go?" Taehyung speaks up and you silently agree with him.

Hoseok places the glass on the table in front of them, pushing his wavy hair to the sides. His eyes seemed even more mesmerising as they looked over the edge of his glasses.

"I've seen their work on a site and tried to contact them via e-mail. I’ve tried searching for them on other sites but with no results.”

"Why don't you call them or text them? It's the 21st century most people don't use emails as a form of communication." Jungkook adds his two cents, and you see the rest of the table roll their eyes.

"Just because you use messenger and kakaotalk as communication doesn't mean others do. This isn't a chat between two friends, it's between possible business partners." Jimin scolds the younger and you stifle a laugh.

Namjoon pats Jungkook's back affectionately. "It's unprofessional to contact people through apps especially if you're someone of Hoseok’s status.”

"Anyway," Hoseok coughs straightening his posture," I don't know their name or number. All I have is the user under which they write and well the e-mail."

"Are you sure they are worth all the fuss?" Yoongi adds and you look at Hoseok who immediately nods.

"You should read their poems, Yoongi. They are magical, raw. You can feel each emotion slowly seeping into you. Just like with Y/N’s and yours song. It's powerful."

You tense up at the mention of your name which goes unnoticed by the rest as they engage in a lyrical discussion. You can see Taehyung backing away from the table with Jungkook following behind. Jimin occasionally nods to Hoseok's interpretation of your poems not interested but not wanting to be rude either. Yoongi and Hoseok go back and forward for a while before Namjoon excuses himself leaving the four of you.

"Anyway, I don't want to bore you with my work," Hoseok finishes the discussion turning towards you, " it was lovely meeting you Y/N. I hope to see you soon."

Highly unlikely you wanted to say. "Likewise."

He disappears in the crowd as Yoongi turns to you. "Jimin and I should talk to the other producers some more before we call it a night."

Soon enough they are out of your reach, and you feel like you could breathe for the first time tonight. Pulling your phone from your purse you head straight for the exit. You tap the familiar number, one you’ve dailed many times.

"Hello?" Sehun's voice cuts through your hectic thoughts.

"You will never know who I just fucking met."

"Seokjin?"

"What? No. It’s Jung Hoseok."

You say as you watch the said man lean into the wall of the lift before he notices you standing not far away. The last thing you see before the doors close was his smile turning into a smirk.

"Jung fucking Hoseok."

Miss/Mister Meraki,

I am writing you this mail in hopes of getting a response from you. Wishing the previous mail had landed in a spam box (rather than you not answering), I am writing you another one filled with more hope. After reading your poems I couldn’t help but notice the sad tone most of them carried.

In the light of the discovery, I am going with my hunch and will say freely that you are probably wary of me. Therefore, I’ve decided to take the time and let you get to know me. I’ll start by writing you little facts about me after I read one of your poems. Hopefully, by the end of the journey, you will choose me.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok.

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment w/c; 3.3k a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse and @woozisnoots for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right.

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right.

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right.

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?”

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get.

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right.

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left.

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out.

Billiam has Super-liked you!

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam.

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick.

Billiam is typing…

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment.

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.”

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!”

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!”

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly.

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!”

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep.

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.”

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?”

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen.

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky.

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder.

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask.

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer.

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off.

He’s getting an incoming call. From you.

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard.

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up.

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this.

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up.

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?”

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it.

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.”

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.”

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity.

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?”

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?”

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.”

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit.

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?”

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.”

“Good night.”

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence.

The waning starts today.

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time?

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep?

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe.

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night.

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal.

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies.

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.”

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy.

“Who is it?”

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.”

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard.

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder.

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?”

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship.

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.”

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you.

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.”

Liar. He’s a liar.

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.”

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.”

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?”

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—”

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s.

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—”

“Uji?”

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm.

“Uh, hey?”

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement.

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!”

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away.

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?”

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together.

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down.

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?”

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him.

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.”

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look.

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?”

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch.

“It’s—”

“Complicated.”

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly.

“There’s things you’re not telling me.”

“Right.”

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add.

“Yes.”

“Then what are some things you can tell me?”

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.”

“Paperwork?”

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life?

“Okay,” you finally say.

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens.

“Really.”

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease.

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.”

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle.

#jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #svtcreations #jihoon fic #woozi fic #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios

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seokmingiggles · 3 years

Text

clematis.

@merakiiverse requested on 210315: "Hihihi as sanlanchan's manager I would love to request a lyric song drabble prompt!! Can I request 31 with Woozi please? 💜"

Song lyric prompt 31: “When you called me, I became your flower.” BTS; Serendipity.

Find the rest of the prompts here!

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff, mutual crushes, college!au if you squint.

1.04k words

No warnings.

“As much as my heart flutters, I’m just as afraid.”

Alternatively, Jihoon is the type of flower that blooms beneath your light. (And sometimes, that light happens even before the sun has risen.)

A/N: Hi, Meraki! Thank you for the request :D It turns out I went in a completely different direction after that day I asked you for your favourite flower. Anyways, I think the scenario that follows somewhat matches the lovely fic you wrote for me the other month. (I still think about that one a lot ;-; thank you again for writing that one for me, wah.) I hope it's okay !!! <3

Here is the song that I used to inspire this fic, along with its lyrics.

•• His phone lights up with a buzz from the side of his bed. Jihoon groans out, the light rousing him from whatever half-asleep state he'd previously been in—tossing and turning for most of the night, only recently finding comfort.

"Why–" the boy's voice croaks out before he clears his throat, eyes squinting when he picks up the device.

Are you awake? I'm hungryyy :((

Jihoon taps his thumbs rapidly: "I'm awake now," he mumbles as he sends his message.

His hands fall to the side of his head, eyes slowly closing once more until he feels the vibration of an incoming call on his palm.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Ji, sorry to have woken you," your voice is somewhat hushed across the line.

"It's fine," the boy says despite his forehead creasing, "I'm awake now. Is everything okay?"

He hears you hum as you think.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you begin, "I just can't sleep. And I'm hungry. And, maybe," you draw the word out, "if you're awake too, would you like to come over?"

Every ounce of exhaustion weighing Jihoon down and into his mattress screams out, No, but the soft lilt of your voice raising at the end of your question allows him to say, "Sure," without faltering.

No one else, the boy thinks to himself as he walks across the campus paths and in the direction of your dorms, could allow me to leave the comfort of my duvet at nearly four in the morning.

Well, maybe Soonyoung, his other best friend, could, too. (Although tonight isn't about him.)

The wind at dawn ruffles through Jihoon's hair, already tousled with sleep. Goosebumps tingle along the back of his neck; he pulls his coat tighter around his torso. The sky already seems like it's become lighter with the passing time—soon, the beginnings of the sunrise will emerge from behind the campus buildings.

In no time, Jihoon arrives at your dorm—only a tall door separating him from seeing you. He sends a quick text as a quieter option to knocking.

The door handle slightly rattles before it opens to reveal you: eyes lighting up and a beaming smile already plastered on your face at your greeting.

"Hi," he replies; a small giggle erupts from Jihoon's throat at your eagerness to usher him inside your room. "You're lucky your roommate is away, or else you wouldn't be able to get away with things like this."

"I know," your hand finds your friend's wrist in a gentle clutch as you make your way over to your small couch, fingertips buzzing as you let go of him shortly after.

"Why can't you sleep? Have you slept at all tonight?"

You nod, "I did, but I woke up craving something sweet, so–"

"So you ate—what are those?—chocolates? In the middle of the night?" Jihoon eyes the colourful bag in your grasp, "You know those have caffeine in them, right–"

"I know, I couldn't help myself! I forgot to put them away so there they were: in sight on my desk. And, of course, I couldn't just have one–"

"Why am I here?"

"So you can finish these for me!"

Jihoon exchanges a glance from you to the bag of bite-sized chocolates in your outstretched hand.

When you called him—

"Please?" you add with a smile.

—he became your flower.

Jihoon shakes his head, trying his best to fight the small grin forming upon his lips (but failing miserably at hiding his amusement before you can notice).

You nearly coo at the colour rising to the boy's cheeks.

As if he's drawn to your radiance, your sunshine you beam upon him, Jihoon blooms and opens up another side of himself. It's to you and only you—the place where he can show his true colours, the different petals that make up his exterior; what lies beneath those petals: his soft centre that's more sensitive than he'd openly admit.

Before he knows it, Jihoon has his hand reached inside the bag of chocolates, grabbing a few of the colourful discs in his fist and popping them into his mouth.

I don't even like chocolate very much, especially not at four in the morning.

You lean back with a deep exhale after rambling on about some late-night thought that the boy wouldn't be able to repeat back to you.

It's not that he's not listening to you—your voice calms him, eases him; soft intonations match the dim lighting from a nearby streetlamp illuminating the paths outside.

Something feels different.

Something in the air—something about being in your presence, perhaps—or maybe it's because the sun is beginning to become seen from outside your window: a physical, visible shift before his eyes.

Jihoon allows himself to look over at you as you look out the window.

You're pressed into the backing of the couch, head leaning back and eyes gazing off at nothing in particular. The remnants of a smile could be tasted on your lips.

Along with chocolate, I'm sure, Jihoon mulls over—but no, why is he again thinking about what would be evident on your lips when he knows you don't feel the same way about him–

"Jihoon?"

"Hm?" The boy's heart nearly lurches out of his chest.

"You're staring again."

"Oh—sorry—I just– I think I'm tired, that's all," he shrugs his thoughts away, disposing them along with the disappearing moon.

You lightly chuckle at Jihoon's blatant awkwardness. He may not be the best at conveying what he truly feels, but that doesn't mean you don't find him endearing throughout it all. Other late nights, similar to this, he's always come over after you've called him or sent him a quick message.

The two of you understand each other. Words aren't a necessity—even now, as you and Jihoon bask in the slow ascent of the sun, perhaps akin to sunflowers, facing the rising rays.

You turn to face Jihoon, who is already peering at you with the most gentle of smiles.

His facial features are round, reminding you of a flower whose name does nothing but reside on the tip of your tongue, too far from reach for you to spill from your lips and wash him in your words.

Instead, whichever flower it is—you're positive it captures Jihoon perfectly—you keep it to yourself.

••

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akakeiiji · 4 years

Note

OMG CONGRATS ON 1K !! 💖🌸 i love ur writing sm :’) can i send an event request ? For ushijima + 102 pls? IF ITS CLOSED THEN FKDJDJJD u can ignore this; have a great day!! 🥰🥰🥰

[ from the meraki — 1k event ]

-`,✎ Ushijima Wakatoshi + “I’ve imagined this moment so many times.”

The small, almost unnoticable smile never left Ushijima’s features the entire night. Not even once. How could he when he was finally able to go out with you: the person he’s been in love with since his second year.

He could hardly believe that he was here right now, strolling side by side with you, your fingers tightly intertwined with his own, not a care in the world.

“—and then, Tendou jumped from the roof and into the pool!” You exclaim, waving your free hand around expressively as you spoke. “Semi almost died from a heart attack that day, you should have seen it, Toshi!”

He felt his heart flutter from the sound of your little pet name for him. You’ve always called him that but this time it sounded different, it felt more tender, more loving than before. He instinctively inched closer towards you as you walked down the street. You pretended not to notice, your lips tugging upwards as you tightened your grip on his much larger hand.

The only thing Ushijima could find amiss about today’s date was the fact that it had to come to an end. A sad smile found its way on both your faces when you announced that you were already at your house, he wanted nothing more than to spend at least a little bit longer with you.

“Hey, Wakatoshi.” You mumble, an air of hesitance in your tone. Was something the matter? Did he do something wrong?

Your hand slips away from his as you start fiddling with them nervously, your eyes finding their way to anything except his own. “Can I kiss you?”

It wasn’t obvious but Ushijima had his own version of a short-circuit. He blanked out for a moment, his eyes growing wide by a fraction, and his lips parting slightly.

You wave your hands up quickly, noticing his expression—although nobody else would have recognized what he was feeling if they saw it. “You—you don’t have to if you don’t want to! I was just—”

“No. I would like to kiss you too.” Ushijima manages to utter once he found his voice. “I’ve imagined this moment so many times before, actually.”

You flush at his words, he was so blunt sometimes but at least you knew his words were sincere. “I just—don’t know where to begin.” He confesses, his lips pressing together in apprehension.

You smile fondly at him, shaking your head at how cute he was. “It’s fine…just close your eyes.”

Ushijima shoots you a hesitant look but follows nonetheless, fluttering his eyes close. He trusted you.

He stiffens at the feeling of two small hands cupping his cheeks, gently pulling down. Just as quickly, he relaxes at the feeling of a pair of soft, gentle lips on his. His own hands instinctively make their way to your waist, pulling you closer against his chest.

The kiss was short, chaste and absolutely everything the both of you could ask for.

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merakiui · 20 hours

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thinking thoughts,,, fwb with jack would be so interesting. because it starts entirely no strings attached. maybe the excuse is it’s for exercise or stress relief or something of the two, but the longer you spend in that arrangement the more jack starts falling back on pack dynamics and instincts. always making sure you eat first, getting you things (snacks, water, etc) you might need after he’s just rearranged your guts, offering to wash you in the bath if you’re too tired to do it yourself……. he’s just so sweet and sometimes it really feels like he’s more mate than fwb. he takes such good care of you.

and of course everyone can just smell him on you like he’s your perfume. you’ve come to savanaclaw so often that everyone just knows you by your scent and it always has jack’s hackles raising because the idea of you being with anyone else makes him feel so itchy. >_< and perhaps jack starts smelling like you as well after your many encounters. what you and jack get up to is no secret. at least, not to those with keen noses.

if he isn’t careful, he might end up confessing. he’ll huff and insist that this is only a friend helping a friend sort of deal and nothing more, but you can clearly see the way his face heats up and the eager speed at which his tail wags. jack likes you and maybe one day you’ll feel the same (if you don’t already).

also. accidental knotting. :)

#meraki mumbles

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woozisnoots · 3 years

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i’m not a hero | hansol vernon chwe

° pairing: vernon x reader ° genre: floofity floof fluff ° summary: people ask you, the avid star wars enthusiast, who your favorite character is and to their surprise? it’s not the hero. ° word count: 1276 ° warning: i mention weapon maybe 2 times ° a/n: my installment for @merakiiverse collab - thank you so much for this really fun opportunity!!! check out the masterlist + all the amazing authors below 💓 (and yes this is part of krys and i’s disneyland au as well!)

meraki’s job collab! / seventeen stars to the right!

masterlist!

everyone will tell you how hard it is trying to pay for college, being away from home, living alone, occasionally having to cope with potential loneliness and lack of motivation from time to time

but some college experiences outweigh all those hardships

and for vernon, it’s two things: you and living out his dream job. well, close to his dream job

you and vernon actually went to the same high school and even shared classes together. exchanged a couple of laughs during graduation practice at how both your names were mispronounced at the podium

yet for the entire three / four years that you were there, no words ushered between you two aside from formal greetings and acknowledged nods. after those graduation caps went up in the sky and you disappeared into the crowd, vernon regretted not talking to you at least once.

just when he was about to lose hope and move passed it, the next thing he knew, he saw you again waiting outside his communications class at his university

‘so this must be fate, it has to be… or a sign? whatever the difference is’

vernon’s face completely flushed when you expressed how relieved you were to see him, alas a familiar face in this new foreign place. making small talk before class started. finding out you guys actually shared the same major, hinting that he’ll probably get to see and spend more time with you more often, in and outside of school

what a perfect perfect way to start a friendship!

after exchanging each other numbers, study sessions became regular hangouts and soon after a few months, the awkward air around him diminished and he finally let his nonchalant person shine through

…but that doesn’t mean he still isn’t shy.

“awe so yn still doesn’t know about your obsession with star wars? can’t be their little jedi to save the them from having to write an argumentative speech in five minutes?”

vernon only responded by sending a glare directed towards his roommate and shoved his head into his pillow, yelping out his internal screams

and for his information, he wasn’t necessarily the hero of the story

how was he supposed to tell you that he worked as a storm trooper at disneyland?

first and far most important, he can’t. that’s against the rules, he would get fired in a heartbeat. that would ruin the entire galaxy edge experience. where’s the magic in that?

and second, even if he were to tell you, he just broke through the wall and is finally on good terms with you. yes, you guys may be friends right now but he does eventually want to ask you out

in his head, being a star wars fan doesn’t really give him that cool reputation that he wants you to perceive of him

and what if you didn’t know what a storm trooper was? now he would just be embarrassed :(

the one free day that you guys have, he almost regrets wanting to work there in the first place

you: hey! you free this weekend?

vernon: depends… am i?

you: well make yourself free :p think you can scavenge some money to get a one day ticket to disneyland on saturday?

vernon: that is more than 100 dollars, do you really think

you: PLEASE IT’LL BE FUN !!!! my best friend and i just got seasonal passes and are ready to abuse it every weekend <3

vernon: ok and your speech?

you: …will be written before then :D

vernon: …fINE

vernon: bold of you to assume i already to have a pass. late to the fun train i see

oh gosh, what the hell did he just say yes to? he has work that day!

thankfully, he only needs to work one shift and that lasts a couple of hours. he can make an excuse for meeting up late - his best being getting into a long phone call with his parents and losing track of time (which you wholeheartedly believe given his known soft spot for his family)

there’s a possible chance, you won’t even go to his certain place of work anyways. maybe you’ll just go to check it out, go on a few rides and wander off.

it was late morning bleeding into the afternoon and vernon was all set in costume, ready to march around the side of the park as one of two of kylo ren’s bodyguards

on a warm, sunny california day like this, was the only time vernon didn’t particularly like having to play a character in a full body costume. he could feel the heat rising up in his helmet and sweat accumulates in places he didn’t know could sweat, uncomfortable wedgies throughout the day

and it suddenly gets a thousand times hotter when he sees you walking towards him, leading your best friend to the outside meet and greet area

during his time, vernon has seen some pretty surprising guests at disneyland all while keeping his composure and staying in character. but this is the first time he almost lets his mumbling slip past his microphone and nearly dropping his blaster to the ground

there’s nothing much that vernon can do as he stands in front of the guests, including you. it’s not like you came to see him specifically, everyone’s here to see the kylo ren

so he decides to play it off the best and only way he knows how

“approach,” he says to you and your friend as it was their turn, gripping his fake weapon in both hands

he did not expect you to be so excited for this interaction. up close, vernon notices that you portrayed an opened mouth smile with a certain glimmer in your eyes that he doesn’t get to see off duty

“have you sworn allegiance to the first order?” his partner to his left continues the conversation

“if i say yes, does that mean i can get a picture with you guys?” you fiddle to find the your phone in your disney themed backpack and hand it to your friend that seemed rather distracted upon other things

looking back and forth between the other storm trooper and you, as a cast member, vernon knew exactly what to say

“well that makes things easier for the both of us. proceed.”

your high pitched squeal finally gets the attention of your friend, taking a few steps back to take the photo

you’re sandwiched in between the two stormtroopers and an awkward kylo ren towering behind you

vernon promptly holds up his blaster with one hand over his shoulder, making for a more dramatic photo, but what the camera can’t capture is how completely flustered vernon is under his armored attire

he’s never been this close to you before

thank goodness he was playing a character or else you wouldn’t know what to do with him hyperventilating right in front of you

once the picture is shot and approved yours truly, you continue to have a one on one conversation with kylo ren before having to leave. giving vernon a little while to recover and look around at anywhere and anyone to calm down his heart as you stand just a mere few inches close to him

being considerate of your friend, your time is short and you guys make your way to the exist with slight disappoint shown on your face

vernon risks watching you leave the vicinity, not paying too much attention to the guests waiting patiently in line

and it’s worth it to see you look back at him one last time, feeling as if you could see right through his façade

#seventeen #vernon #caratwritersclub #seventeen fluff #vernon fluff #seventeen scenario #vernon scenario #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #vernon fanfic #seventeen au #seventeen imagine #vernon imagine #svt x reader #svtstars

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lnarizakis · 3 years

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miyagi prefecture collab — meraki.

━━━━hiraeth. (n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was.

with ambiguous bnha character.

in 0.3k words.

tags flashback from his past turns into his longing for his home, angst.

He remembers you…

Or, at least he thinks he does.

He remembers your smile, one that could rival his, and he remembers your laugh—one that spurred him on to crack whatever joke he had left in his pockets. There was that one time, he remembers, it was getting hard for you to breathe as you couldn’t stop your laughter, holding on to the edge of your desk. He’s not sure what exactly he was doing, but he knows you were laughing at his antics. He was probably poking the cheek of his friend, one you weren’t all that close with, but his friend’s mumbling and groaning, complaining and telling him to stop, was all the more reason for you to encourage him indirectly to tease his friend. He remembers looking up from his friend’s sleepy face at you, with your glistening smile and melodic laughter. It was like home—it was so warm. You made him feel so warm.

He remembers the day he first kissed you. It was abrupt, spontaneous, but it was memorable—so much so that he’s kept it in the depths of his mind even beyond the memories of you. The placement of his hands on your warm cheeks, your longing stare boring into his own eyes… he thinks you brushed your hands against his jaw, rubbing your thumb over the bridge of his nose before you traced your fingers lightly over his cheek, down his neck, before taking their place on his shoulder. Then, slowly, he found his lips on yours. He remembers how soft they were—if they were even there at all.

It’s been so long since he last saw you. He’s not sure if you were even real, if you were even a home for him in the first place. But he knows that you were there, something real, because the homesickness feels so bitter at the tip of his tongue—it’s so bitter, so tangible, that he must spit it out or else he’d begin crying.

“Hey,” his boss tells him at the door frame, “Let’s get back to work.”

He stares down at his coffee that he couldn’t even drink in the first place and swallows the homesickness down his throat. His home was so far away; perhaps he’ll find it in a different world.

header: kimi ni todoke

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #my hero academia x you #boku no hero academia x you #bnha angst

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

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| never means never | Shirabu Kenjirou

a.k.a an angstier ending to ‘never say never’ but can be read as a stand alone

»»——⍟——««

word count | 1k

pairing | Shirabu Kenjirou x Reader

author’s note | user DreamFlyHigh on ao3 suggested an alternate alternate ending that is even more angstier, took a while but here it is :333 Enjoy Suffer

»»——⍟——««

The steady rise and fall of Shirabu’s chest brings you to a state where you’re torn between kissing the hell out of him (because you would be lying if you said you didn’t still have feelings for the man passed out on your bed with an asymmetrical fringe) and wanting to leave the country so you’d never see him again.

He looks so serene, for once, instead of frowning and narrowing his eyebrows in a displeased expression. If you squint, perhaps you can make out a tiny upturn of his lips- Does that count as a smile? You’re not really sure.

When would he learn to take care of himself, you ask yourself. Your relationship with Shirabu had been a rocky one from the very beginning, but at the very first stages of your love’s bloom, he had been... Caring. Constant reminders to eat healthily and to exercise dropped from his lips in a sharp tone, and eventually you learned to see past it to hear the underlying worry.

Ironically, he was the one that didn’t seem to understand the concept of self-care. Even in the dark, you can make out the dark circles that line his eyes and the tiredness that lingers over his body like a ghoul, waiting to reap his soul.

For a moment, you froze up when you picked up on the hospital’s call an hour ago, the words ‘You’re Dr. Shirabu’s emergency contact’ haunting your head like a taunt, louder than the DJ on the radio on a Sunday evening. The questions plague you, knowing that you’d never summon the courage to face him for the answers.

Why were you his emergency contact?

Did he have no one else?

Maybe he just forgot to change it after the two of you broke it off for real?

A soft ding sounds from a phone in your apartment, and you dismiss it, your ears instinctively categorising it as a familiar noise. It’s only as you sit down on your couch with a warm cup of coffee that you realise the ding isn’t from your phone, because no notification calls to you from the bar of your phone.

It’s Shirabu’s.

You laugh bitterly. Even after months of separation, traces of days when the two of you lived together still lingers in the edges of your mind, waiting for you to let your guard down to prowl in and strike for the kill. Even after so much time, the definition of Shirabu Kenjirou is still oh-so-familiar to you, so much that you dismiss his phone notification as yours because you’ve heard it so much, and you still recognise it.

It hurts.

You curse yourself for your inability to forget him, for the lack of self-restraint you have when you pick up drunken calls from your ex, for putting up with the meaningless mumbles that drift from his alluring lips on the drive back to his apartment.

For how you make soup for his impending hangover and leave it in the fridge, for how you text Kawanishi so he can tell Shirabu that he was the one that drove him home, he was the one that made him soup.

For how the thoughts of him prowl menacingly around the edges of your conscious mind.

For how much you want to reach over and caress his face, for how much you want to scold him worriedly, berating him for how he overworked himself to the point he collapsed at the hospital.

It’s then that the idea sprouts in your mind, the voice of the devil on your shoulder.

Delete your number from his phone, and he’ll never call you again when he’s drunk.

It’s as easy as taking candy from a child. You pluck his phone from where it rests next to him on the bed. You’d slipped it out from his pocket after you tucked him into your bed. It never crossed your mind to look at his messages- You weren’t the type to pry. Pity. If you’d taken a peek, you’d see that his most recent conversation was with Kawanishi, about him coming to terms with the fact he was still in love with you.

When his phone asked you if you were sure you wanted to delete the number belonging to ‘y/n’, you had no hesitance in pressing ‘confirm’.

“Kawanishi, sorry to bother you. Shirabu’s passed out at the hospital, they called me to pick him up because I’m his emergency contact. He’s at my place now. Could you come send him home later? He’ll need someone to watch him for a bit.”

You strengthened your resolve, your voice spelling ‘I’m determined to forget this man and not every talk about him again’. Whatever Kawanishi wanted to say was drowned out in the ending tone of the phone call as you plopped down on the couch, staring at the ceiling mindlessly, ignoring the soft breathing belonging to the man you spent too much time thinking about from your bedroom.

‘He loves you,’ Kawanishi wanted to say, but he could tell that it was too late, and Shirabu had passed up the chance to have you by him for the rest of his life.

Years later, you’d look back on this day as the day that you decided you were getting over Shirabu Kenjirou. The day that you decided never means never, and that you were never going to think about him again; never going to pick his drunken calls again; never going to send his sleepy, confused state home.

One day, if you walked past him on the street, your hand interlaced with another man’s, you would glance away and reply to your partner: “Oh, no, I don’t know him.”

One day, you would send off your wedding invitation to Kawanishi, who had become a friend of sorts despite the person who begin your connection to each other. And the next week, Kawanishi would forget that he left your invitation on the coffee table, and he would invite his former high school friends- And Shirabu- To his place for drinks.

One day, Shirabu Kenjirou would just be the name you brought up when you told you grandchildren of your first heartbreak and warn them: Be careful who you fall for.

Never means never.

»»——⍟——««

*cackles evilly*

taglist. @mrs-kuroojinguji @procrastination-lady @miel-meraki @shoyosun @aka-a-shii @shibayamasbae @churochuu @seijohlogy @dearsukuna @whootwhoot

Haikyuu!! gen taglist. @owlywrites @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @our-tall-slytherin-queen

»»——⍟——««

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu x reader #shirabu kenjirou #shirabu kenjirō #shiratorizawa x reader #shiratorizawa #shirabu x reader #shirabu kenjirou x reader #shirabu kenjiro x reader #angst #cady writesss «#cadowly's songfic december

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wongiemei · 4 years

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5. Eclipse

When the sun and the moon became one, the sky turned red.

The entire kingdom of Kalon grew quiet, no children playing in the streets in sight and nothing and no one moved a muscle.

Instead, in the castle, the screams and the yells of pain and anguish from the high mighty Queen herself was heard as it bounced off every hallway and seeped into every little crevice for the walls to remember this moment forever. Wet nurses and doctors scrambled in and out of the birthing room but one man stood off to the side facing the corner, refusing to see the tears and the madness swimming in the eyes of his beloved.

“Bin,” she called. “Robin.”

Despite the signal for need of comfort from his wife, Robin continued to stay frozen at his spot and remained there even as the birth was starting.

“Curse you!” Selene shouted, followed by a high-pitch scream that caused all the glass in their part of the castle to break.

All metallic objects rose from their spots and shook as the Merakian princess spouted nonsensical spells that would lessen the pain but it served no purpose as the child fought its way out. The nurses and the 3 doctors paled at the amount of blood the human witch was letting out and they chewed more on the bay leaf to hopefully distract the smell and their thirst for the liquid.

“Restimio! Firello! Suriani!” She shrieked and sobbed, eventually blubbering into distorted noises. However, she uttered the only recognizable word.

A name.

“Bin,” she yelled. But Bin placed a hand around his mouth and nose, partially because of the blood but because of the staggering and irregular breaths he let out.

Tears fell down his high cheekbones and his hands shook, finally recognizing what he has done and the pain that overcame his body.

The millisecond moment of the sun kissing the moon, the screaming stopped.

Robin’s eyes widened as he finally turned around but he will forever regret that memory for as long as he lived.

Laying on the bed, his beloved Queen Selene, princess of Meraki, was lifeless on the Egyptian cloth with her eyes still open, only for it to look empty and dull. The smile he used to see first thing in the morning became the last thing he remembers from her. The olive skin from her childhood near Cyprus lost its brightness, replaced by a pale and flushed tone. And the aura she emitted that once filled the room with warmth and comfort, vanished as if it never existed at all.

“Selene,” he mumbled from his spot. Then his legs moved on its own and rushed to her side with his hand clutching her cold ones. “Love? Selene?!”

The royal doctor held the child, not screaming or making a fuss, red eyes flitting around the room as it has no idea of what just happened.

The loss of a mother.

“Selene?!” He yelled while the nurses and doctors either turned around and looked down to the floor, refusing to look at their King break and fall apart.

The King that led many victories against Orenda, in turn lost the battle against Death and his wife.

“Love, we talked about this,” he mumbled with a manic smile but pained eyes. “Darling, I can’t turn you if your heart stops beating. Come on, Selene. I know you’re strong enough to make that lovely heart beat for me again, aren’t you?”

But he knew she was gone. His words would never reach her again and he hung his head low, droplets of tears staining the maroon carpet.

“Your Majesty, the babe is a little girl,” said the royal doctor in hopes of seeing the King light up at the mention of his child.

But instead, Bin clenched his hands into a fist and he whipped his head around, frightening the nurses at the hateful glare he sent to his daughter.

“Take that away. Get that bloody thing away from here.”

You closed your eyes to prevent yourself from bursting into tears as you knew you shouldn’t have killed Jun but you still did. Overcome with the anger and betrayal, your mind completely blanked and before you know it, he was screaming with pain and agony as the fire danced on his skin then proceeded to eat him alive.

The screams and the shouts echoed in your mind as it reminded you of the same thing from way far back into your memory.

A woman.

Donghyuck placed a cup of tea mixed with tonic on the table in front of you, snapping you awake from your daydream.

“Hm, was it too much for you to handle?” He asked, not meaning for it to sound condescending.

You shook your head slightly and picked up the delicate cup, “No matter how many times I’ve killed, the pained screams will never be an accepted sound to my ears.”

He watched you in curiosity, deciding if he should just ask you or not. “But your reputation makes it sound like you’re a kill-hungry beast, princess.”

“Don’t listen to rumors, Donghyuck, shouldn’t you know that?” You snapped. “Besides, I never take a life unless it is deserving. You might be surprised but I am quite merciful.”

“Oh? The pillars of mercy are principles that are familiar to you? Hm, that’s interesting.” He commented before sipping his tea.

But yours remained untouched. “I’m merciful because I’m a princess. But I’m also cruel because I’m a Queen.”

“If it were me, I would’ve given him to be feasted on by the guards,” he mused. “Instead of just setting fire to him, you wanted him to bathed in holy water first. Not letting him go to Hell sounds quite too merciful, don’t you think?”

Cold eyes glaring into the amused smirk of the prince, you twitched. “What are you implying, prince?”

“I’m just simply curious, darling. “ He placed the cup down and laced his fingers on top of the glass table. “The holy water burned away all of his sins but you wanted him to burn later for his crimes as a traitor? It sounds conflicting however way you put it, love.”

“Nothing is more painful than a walking sin being washed with the water blessed by the Church. No fire is strong enough to truly burn away all traces of him,” you replied coldly, gritting your teeth.

“Come on, love. I’m a prince who loves to torture criminals! So I know that the holy water rid him of his sins so he could rightfully walk through the gates of Heaven, am I wrong?” The boy smirked as he watched you squirm slightly in your seat. “So, say that it is just because you are indeed merciful?” He paused to gauge your reaction. “Or is it because he’s of Merakian blood?”

There it was.

The reaction he expected from you showed with your eyes clearly narrowing on him and you chuckling humorlessly before running your tongue under your front teeth, showcasing your fangs.

“Merakian or not, death is given to those who are deserving of it, Donghyuck. Rather than spending your time feeding into your obsession with torture, maybe you should bust out the books and read up on the punishments for traitors that a real prince should’ve memorized.” Your reply obviously had an effect on him as the smirk melted away and his gaze turned hard.

“You know, I wanted to go easy on you since you’re a wife of one of my best mates. But I can’t help but notice the smell of you,” he cocked his head to the side. “Why is it you smell sweet? Vampires don’t smell like anything since the blood that runs through our veins isn’t actually ours. But yours, it smells sickly sweet. Like peaches.”

Knowing that Donghyuck was smart even though he acted foolish sometimes, you didn’t think he would actually catch on. Looking up from your lap with a slight smile, you asked, “Didn’t my spell work on you, prince?”

Donghyuck grinned as his suspicions were confirmed. “You might’ve fooled everyone including Jaemin and my brother, but I’ve never been an easy one to enchant. You see, Y/N, I actually do study, so I know how to reject your spells. The moment we met, I felt that tingle and I knew then, what you were, you little half-ling. When you called for my help to get rid of Jun, I initially wanted no part of your affairs. But I knew this would confirm everything.”

“Are you going to tell Jaemin, Donghyuck?” You looked at him plainly, as if unbothered by this news. And it irked Donghyuck to no end.

“Why do you look so lax? You think I won’t?” He snapped but you remained calm and collected.

Your grin took him aback and you relished every moment of surprise from him. “I know you will. But he’s not going to believe you. I’m his Queen and you’re nothing but a little pebble in our world. So go ahead and tell him. But I can’t guarantee what will happen to you once you do, though. Because like you, I have friends that are in need of a new toy.”

Now, you were surprised. Instead of an angry or even a scared expression, he cracked into a smile and a laugh. “Oh, princess. I must say, I thought you were an actually weak little girl. But you got guts, I like that.”

Amused, you placed your chin on your hand. “But I haven’t done anything, though?” You asked innocently.

“I see it in your eyes.”

The smell of the market wafted into your nose and you let out a hungry growl at the delicious looking blood pudding that was showcased in front of a store. Immediately, you fast-paced straight to it and you entered, the small chime from the bell on the door signaling your arrival.

As your fingers neared the small cup, your phone rang. An irritated sigh escaped you and you swiped it to answer.

“What is it?” You answered, knowing exactly who it was.

“Oi, don’t talk to me like that!” Jaemin tutted but you weren’t listening as you were too busy grabbing the cups. “Did you arrive safely?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be talking to you right now, wouldn’t I?”

Jaemin paced in his study and Jeno could tell from his grumpy look that you weren’t exactly being nice.

“I just wanted to check in with you. Making sure you’re still alive and all since we’d prepare to war if you were suddenly dead. You know how impulsive your little kingdom is.” Jeno face-palmed at his best friend’s dumb answer.

“It’s not hard to say you’re worried, Jaems.” The mumble wasn’t loud but enough to be heard.

A faint familiar voice in his end made you perk up as you were placing about 10 cups in your basket. “Oh? Is that Jeno? Hello, darling!”

Your loud voice was heard by the said-boy and he laughed at Jaemin’s annoyed expression as he held the phone tightly. “Yah, can’t you greet your husband like that? Do you need me to clarify this for you? I’M NA JAEMIN. YOUR HUSBAND, Kalonian.”

Pulling a face at the horrid nickname, you paused and placed the basket down to put it on your hip. “Why are you being like this, Na Jaemin? I am allowed to greet anyone however I like! Besides, Jeno helped me arrange the flowers in the garden last Tuesday since somebody was too busy playing with a stick! So of course he deserves a nice acknowledgement!”

Looking at his best friend, Jaemin looked betrayed as they were supposed to have sword practice that afternoon but Jeno bailed out last minute. “So it was you who took my best friend! Oi, he’s already taken! Find another!”

“I already have! If you get Jeno, I get the other twin! Donghyuck is mine!” You childishly fired back.

The people in the store looked at the woman with a hood on and sunglasses with weird expressions as she stomped on the floor.

“Yah! No one is yours! Only I am yours! You hear me?! Not Jeno, Not Donghyuck, Me!” Jaemin shouted and he angrily walked out of the study to go outside so he could freely yell at you more.

Jeno stared at the oak wood door before returning to his flower crown, fingers intricately weaving and sighing deeply. “Thank you for your arrival, Y/N because I honestly don’t know how much I could take from that dumbass anymore.”

a/n: ya bitch just got out of hell and came back!

taglist:

@d0dges @bobohu-s-ane-yeobo @heyyyun @thwia @chocolattees

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waytooinlovewithlokilaufeyson · 5 years

Text

Marriage of Convenience, Part 3

Loki x Reader, Thor x Reader

Summary: You accidentally fall into a scenario that inadvertently gets you closer to Thor.

A/N: Guys, we’re almost to 300 followers! That’s so exciting!! Thank you all for supporting this story and this blog! Hope you enjoy this next part :) Also, let me know if you have any ideas for a follower celebration!

Part 1, Part 2

“Done”, you say to yourself, smiling as you close the book you were reading. Loki was right; these books were definitely worth your time. Reading has kept you busy during your long, uneventful days. You would occasionally bump into Loki, and you would discuss his recommended books. He always greeted you with a soft smile and a polite greeting. It was nice seeing a friendly face around.

Your eyes shift over to the pile of finished books in the corner or your room.

“I guess I should return these, then”, you think to yourself, scooping the books in your arms and heading off to the library. Honestly, you could have had a servant do it for you, but getting up and about helped ease the loneliness and fulfilled your curiosity as you explored new parts of the castle.

After depositing the books, you took a new route, occasionally looking out the windows. You longed to go outside sometime, but you haven’t had the courage to ask Odin or Thor yet.

As you returned to your room, you heard loud voices from the throne room. Curiously, you poked your head through the crack that was left open in the door.

Odin, Thor, and a couple other burly men hovered around a large map.

“Coming this way would be the fastest way inside the heart”, one man says, pointing to a part of the map.

Odin rubs his chin, clearly deep in thought. “It’s too obvious”, he sighs, his eyes darting on the map.

You must have gotten too interested, as you pushed on the door a little to hard. The door swung open and you stumbled in.

“Oh, oh my, I’m truly sorry--”, you begin, face turning red as you see all eyes on you.

Thor’s eyes light up when he sees you. “It’s no problem, Y/N. You can come in.”

You timidly walk over to the map and the men go back to brainstorming. Your eyes focus on the map. That one man was right, that route would be the fastest. But, it would result in the most casualties too.

You see a small opening in the mountain that leads straight towards where the troops would have been aiming for in the man’s plan.

“There”, you say suddenly and without thinking, pointing at what you’ve seen.

The men give you incredulous looks. “Miss Y/N--”, Odin begins, but you cut him off.

“If the troops went through the mountain, they would be concealed. There would be virtually no casualties and it would take very little time. The path still leads to the heart”, you explain, pointing at the map, proud of your very well-thought plan.

But, when you look up from the map, all you see is a huge scowl on Odin’s face. “You have no right to even be here let alone decide battle plans”, he says with venom in his tone, and fear sets in your chest.

“Father”, Thor begins, but he’s quickly stopped.

Odin looks you dead in the eye. “I don’t care who you think you are. You have no power here, do you understand?”

You look down, tears streaming down your face. “Yes, sir.”

“Get out”, Odin states, waving you away. You almost trip on your dress as you rush out.

You run to your room, trying to hide your face from passing guards and servants. When you finally make it, you slump against your door and sob.

You don’t know why you thought you would have any political power in Asgard. The fact that you’re just a peace treaty really settles in, and more tears stream down your face. Your life was meaningless without this deal, and you had no power to change it.

A few hours pass, and the pain dulls. You end up sitting on your windowsill as you look at the stars outside.

A knock on the door gets your attention. “Y/N?” a thick, soothing voice asks, and you immediately know who it is.

“Come in, Thor.”

When he enters, you see his blue eyes swarming with emotion. “How are you feeling?”

You look back outside, a dull pain in your chest. “Fine, thank you.”

Thor fiddles with his hands nervously, like he doesn’t know exactly what to say. He takes a deep breath and says, “I’m sorry about my father’s behavior.”

“It’s okay”, you mumble.

One of his hands tentatively holds yours. You finally meet his gaze. “I know he comes off as brash. But he knows your plan is the best, which is why we’re doing it.”

Your lips form a soft smile. “That’s great news.”

He returns your smile. “You’re brilliant, Y/N. You deserve to be heard.” His grip on your hand tightens as his gaze locks on to you. “I’m excited to be beside you.”

Your heart flutters at the last sentence. You somehow forgot you were going to marry Thor in a short time.

“Me too”, you whisper as you get lost in his eyes. He slowly moves toward you, and you do the same.

When his lips meet yours, you feel how soft they are. With his arms moving to cage around you, you feel safe.

The kiss is short and sweet. You feel happy, even after Thor has left, but something nags the back of your mind; something you can’t comprehend just yet.

Part 4

A/N: ohooooohohoho do we have a love triangle on our hands?

Marriage of Convenience Taglist: @drakesfiance @peach-habibitch@goldenyoongles @moodymcu @parksandgetrektt @littlemissporter@petitemissbunny @just-another-romantic @deathofmissjackson @lookwhatyoumademequeue @meraki–mei @1800-fight-me @grahoundart@timetraveler1978 @adefectivedetective @peterman-spideyparker @czygrlm@jessalynjones1989 @princessizzy36 @kybaeza

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