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jeonqbunny · 6 months

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sounds like denial

megumi fushiguro x reader smut ♡

summary: megumi & you never got along as roommates, until one day you found him using your panties to get himself off.

content warning: dom!megumi x sub!f!reader, degradation, pussy slapping, choking, cnc if you squint, edging, use of petnames (slut, whore, good girl) MEGUMI IS AGED UP!

word count: 3.7k

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!

megumi fushiguro was the absolute bane of your existence. his cold shoulder was one that made you fume with anger. he was a neat freak, constantly moving your items from the place where you had left them to leave you frantically searching for them in your time of needing them.

“megumi– i swear to god if you move my keys again, i will strangle you.” you growled under your breath as you snatched them out of the top drawer in your shared kitchen. he shrugged, not paying much mind to your anger as it didn’t intimidate him like you thought it did. his spiky raven locks fell into his face when he snapped his head to look at you scurrying out of the kitchen and heading towards the front door.

“yeah yeah ye– wait, where are you going? don’t you have something better to do? like y’know.. study for your finals?” he crossed his arms over his chest, his dark blue orbs burning holes into your skin. you reached up to tug at your hair in annoyance, shooting back the same glare he gave you.

“god, is what i do really any of your business megumi? you’re my roommate, not my fucken dad.” you spat, adjusting your stance as you rested against the door frame. “you’re in a pissy ass mood and i’m not having it. if you’re gonna go, just go.” he barked back, a hint of annoyance coating his words. kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of him, he rested his arms behind his head as his eyes closed as if to instigate some more.

he tried his very best to act nonchalant, but you were genuinely striking a nerve at this point. normally, as much as he hated to admit it, he did enjoy getting a rise out of you, but only when it really benefited him. and right now, you weren’t benefiting him in the slightest.

you swallowed thickly, biting back the venom that your thoughts threatened to spit at him. you let out a scoff, pivoting on your foot to leave the apartment dramatically. you had a meeting with your teacher to go over your exams, and no thanks to megumi, you were now running late. when megumi heard the door click shut, one of his eyes opened to the side as if to make sure you were really gone.

he hesitantly stood to his feet, a thought weighing on his mind as he lugged himself to his bedroom. he threw himself onto his plush mattress, a small ‘squeak’ sounding from the extra weight added to the wooden bedframe. he let a soft sigh fall from his pretty lips, his eyes closing once again as he tried to gather his thoughts

suddenly, memories of his friends constantly teasing him about his supposed crush on you filled his mind. it angered him to think about, there was no way in hell he would ever find you, of all people, attractive. at least that’s what he told himself every time he took a huff of your panties while fisting his throbbing, leaky dick.

the view of you walking around the house in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear began flooding his mind, his member stiffening and straining against the fabric of his sweats. the way your hips swayed with every step you took, the moans he would hear coming from your room late at night when you felt lonely. god, he wished he was the one to make you moan so prettily like that.

his hand ghosted along the expanse of his toned abdomen, slipping under the waistband of his sweats to palm at his needy cock. a whine bubbled in his throat, his hips gyrating forward into his hand to cause more friction. his hand shot over to his nightstand, haphazardly tugging the drawer open before stirring around his belongings. that’s when he felt it, the fabric of a fresh pair of your panties he stole from your dirty laundry hamper the night before.

he gripped it in his clutch tightly, slamming the drawer shut before sniffing them. a wanton groan fell from his throat, his eyes closing tightly as he inhaled your scent. his hand moved against his cock faster, pants and moans of your name filling the air as he continued his more than sinful ministrations.

the lustrous fabric of his boxers decorated with precum became increasingly more annoying, causing him to huff in frustration before tugging his pants and boxers down. he sighed in relief when his needy dick sprung free, the tip flushed a shade of angry red as his precum dribbled down his shaft to his balls.

a pang of guilt filled his chest as he began to fist the tip of his cock, his thumb brushing over his aching slit. he used his precum as lube, a loud squelching sound following each swift stroke of his hand. he ran his tongue along the fabric of the panties where your pussy would sit, shivering in ecstasy as his head flopped back in pleasure. “i’m so sorry y/n.. i– i’m so sorry..” he whimpered under his breath, gripping his member tighter and thrusting it into his hand.

he felt this climax approaching rapidly, the scent of your pussy lingering on the panties he was lapping at so desperately. the knot tightening in his abdomen and threatening to burst at any moment, and just as he was right about to finish.. he heard his door slowly creak open as you began to talk.

“sorry for wh– oh. oh my god?” there you stood, looking like a deer in headlights as you took in what laid in front of you. you chortled in shock, your palm smacking your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to come out. you didn’t really know what to say or do at this point, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you stood there, entirely unable to move as it all processed.

those were your panties, a pair you’ve been trying to find for a hot minute, in fact. megumi ceased his movements all together, scrambling to try and pull his pants over his hips as he tossed the panties to the side in an attempt to hide them. but it was already too late, he had been busted jerking off with your panties pressed to his face. his cheeks were just as red as yours, the both of you exchanging a look of ‘what the fuck’ for a brief moment before you padded over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“that’s literally humiliating, i would not want to be in your shoes right now.” you mocked, a toothy grin growing on your face as you watched his chest heave in anxiety. he didn’t know what to say or do, wanting nothing more than to just disappear from existence in that moment. “shut the fuck up oh my god. just– just get out!” stammering, he sat up in bed and huffed at you in exasperation. this only caused you to giggle under your breath, shaking your head gently as you slide your hand up the length of his leg before reaching the erection twitching in his sweats.

“well you started, might as well finish it.” your head was spinning in confusion, you never in a million years would have thought that megumi saw you like that. you were palming at his erection teasingly before his hand flung down and gripped your wrist tightly. you gasped, slightly taken aback, your eyes flickered into his with confusion written all over your expression.

he wasted no time in pushing you to your back, crawling on top of you before he made the decision to let go of your wrist. “listen, if you think that i’m actually attracted to you, you’re–” you cut him off swiftly, letting out a scoff and smirking at him. “oh, so you only find me attractive enough to sniff my panties while getting yourself off?” you retorted, your head tilting to the side as his body caged you in. “sounds like denial to me, ‘gumi.”

this only provoked him further, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration before looping his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and yanking them off with little to no effort. you shrieked, squirming to escape his grasp as you began to protest. “stop bein’ stupid and let me go, you asshole!” you whined, your body writhing underneath him only stroking his newfound ego all the more.

“oh, so your little pussy soaking your panties means you don’t want this? sounds like denial to me.” he snapped back like a rubber band, a cocky smirk gracing his glossy lips as he looked down at you. you rolled your eyes, a slight pout forming on your lips as your legs quivered. his hand reached in between your legs, pressing two fingers against the outline of your soaking wet folds through the panties. he didn’t expect you to give in so easily, but it didn’t exactly surprise him, either.

he rubbed up and down your aching slit with two of his fingers, entirely neglecting your swollen clit as if to tease you even more. you struggled a bit more, bucking your hips on his fingers for at least some stimulation on your swollen nub. he tsked, leaving a harsh smack on your sloppy cunt before rubbing his palm against it to soothe the sting. “you’re such an annoying slut, even in bed.” he husked out, his steel blue eyes eating up the way the thin fabric of your panties stuck to your pussy.

you mumbled out a small ‘sorry’ as you bucked your hips forward, in urgent need to get your pussy touched by him again. “not so hard, now is it? i just knew you were a cock hungry whore, scampering around the house in your dirty little panties to tease me..” he trailed off, two of his digits ghosting over your clit. “just admit it, you need me to fuck you.”

“i hate you.” you hissed back, your eyebrows furrowing in anger from the way he teased you. he pulled his fingers away, throwing a glare your way before shaking his head. “nah, i don’t think you do, y/n.” he cooed, his fingers running along the edge of your panties to provoke you further. “but i could make you hate me, if that’s what you want.” he snickered, his eyes darting between your angry expression and your throbbing core.

“fuck you, disrespectfully.” you still tried to show even an ounce of control, but deep down you wanted him. you knew it, and he did too. “so that’s how you like it?” he asked in a low grumble, slowly sliding your panties down your plump thighs. his gaze never left yours, your panties now hanging loosely at your ankles before you kicked them off to the end of the bed.

megumi felt his breath catch in his throat from the sight of your leaky cunt, swallowing thickly, causing his adam’s apple to bob in its wake. he visibly shuddered in excitement when he finally made contact with your bare heat, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip in concentration as he swiped the pad of his thumb over your clit.

you let out a whiny yelp, reaching up to grip his shoulder as he continued pleasuring you. his chest was swelling with pride at this point, his pretty blue eyes fluttering closed as he felt your grip tighten with every movement of his finger. “such a pretty pussy.. i wanna taste it..” he groaned, his eyes snapping open to look at the way your arousal dripped down to your ass and onto the bed sheets below.

“i thought you said you weren’t attracted to me.” you snorted, batting your eyelashes at him with a knowing smile pulling at your lips. with this, megumi wasted no time in grabbing your panties and shoving them into your mouth. “do you ever shut your whorish mouth up or what?” he shoved them further into your mouth, causing you to gag and whine. the sight of you choking on your own panties made his cock twitch in his pants, a dark stain bleeding through his gray sweats.

“doesn’t feel so nice does it? choking on your panties, and you still need more. now you really understand how i felt.” still rubbing quick circles on your aching clit, his other hand gripped your inner thigh, digging the tips of his fingers into your skin and holding your legs open with ease.

“can’t say much now, can you?” your reactions amused him, his thumb never relenting from the pace he set on it. he reached up with his spare hand, spitting on his middle and index finger before swiping them against the edge of your needy little hole. he pushed them in slowly, his forearm tensing up from the way you gripped onto his digits.

“fuck, you’re so mmnhh– tight. for a greedy slut, that is.” he pumped his fingers in and out of your heat, his jaw falling slack as he watched his fingers slip in and out with a loud ‘squelch.’ you mewled at the feeling of his fingers sliding against your gummy walls, your eyes closing tightly as a sheer coat of sweat started to grow on your forehead. “please ‘gumi.. please fuck me.” you cried out, your syllables breaking with every thrust of his fingers.

the sight was absolutely marvelous from megumi’s point of view. the way your lips parted, your legs trembling and the way your eyes slammed shut in pleasure as he ravaged your insides with his fingers, fuck it was all almost too much for him to handle. he was finally able to put you in your place after months of torture with your bratty and unbearable attitude.

“now you’re begging, such a good little whore.” he chimed, his fingers curling upwards into your g-spot, his wrist moving back and forth rapidly. your body tensed up, your hands gripping the sheets below you until your knuckles turned a pearly shade of white. “i’m so close.. i’m so close.. please..” you sobbed, your hips lifting off the mattress to match the thrust of his fingers.

megumi halted his movements, watching you writhe and cry from your orgasm fizzling away. “you’re not gonna get to cum that easily, sweetheart. you gotta work for it. you can do that for me can’t you, slut?” he chuckled deviously, his fingers moving inside of you once again, you immediately clenched around his fingers, that familiar feeling building in your tummy again.

“gonna cu–” you were immediately cut off, his fingers pulling all the way out and leaving you empty. you squealed in displeasure, a flood of frustration filling your veins as your hips stuttered forward in a desperate endeavor to reach an orgasm. megumi tsked again, biting the inside of his cheek briefly before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your clit.

“don’t worry, i’ll let you cum. eventually.” he goaded, running the tip of his tongue up your slit to lap at your juices. this elicited a blissful groan from megumi, his tongue diving into your throbbing hole and licking upwards to gather more of your slick. your hands shot down to tangle in his jett black hair and pull him closer to your pussy, your moans unwavering as he slurped up your cunt like his last meal.

“me– megumi!” you gasped, your thighs slamming closed around his head. he removed his tongue from inside your cunt, licking up your folds to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. he swiftly pulled your thighs apart, pinning them down to the mattress as he continued to suck your clit hungrily, his tongue sliding against it. your eyes rolled into your skull, your head falling backwards onto his silken pillows. “i’m– fuck. i’m gonna cum.” you choked out, your voice muffled from the panties in your mouth as your fingers grasped at his hair tighter, your hips grinding against his lips.

he let out a hum of approval, the vibrations of his voice shooting through your mound as you squeaked out in pleasure. your long awaited orgasm finally crashed over you, your back arching off the bed and your legs trembling as your tight walls pulsated and fluttered continuously. megumi collected your cum on his tongue, swallowing down every last drop that dripped from your pleasure-ridden cunt.

your chest heaved as you finished riding out your high, looking down to find megumi already slipping his painfully hard cock out of his sweats. “your pussy tastes better than i could have imagined, the panties didn’t do you nearly enough justice.” he said, his voice laced with pure and utter arousal. he gently plucked the panties from your mouth, shooting you a devilish smirk. you whined, your head falling back again as he pressed the tip to your entrance.

“now it’s my turn, greedy slut.” he pushed the tip in, your walls struggling to accommodate his length as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. he trembled, taking a deep breath through gritted teeth as he pushed in to fill you up to the hilt. you shrieked, a sting shooting through your inner walls from the sudden stretch. you reached upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold yourself together while you adjusted to his size.

he remained still, his patience running thin as he felt your hot gummy walls coil around his cock. “i’m gonna move now, so be the good little slut you are and take it.” he growled, reaching up with one of his hands to grip your chin firmly. he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, letting your slick cum coat his dick entirely before setting a pace.

his hips slammed into you ruthlessly, the bulbous tip of his cock grazing over all of your sweet spots with every thrust of his hips. he fucked you like his life depended on it, he’d rather die than have to stop fucking you. months of fantasizing about your tight pussy, and he was finally getting it.

your cum from your previous orgasm splattered with every harsh thrust into your pussy. still reeling from the way your walls gripped him like a vice, megumi let out a strained moan and slammed his eyes shut tightly. his hand slid down your chin to your neck, squeezing the sides lightly while his other hand grazed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

“i want this off, wanna see how pretty your tits look when they bounce.” he grumbled, his hand getting closer to the hem of your shirt to pull it over your chest. he gasped slightly, his eyes drinking up every curve of your breasts before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking softly. you wiggled underneath him, the sensitivity making your head feel like it was going to explode. he pulled off your sensitive bud with a subtle ‘pop’, his dark eyes finding yours to send you a threatening glance. you immediately knew what it was for, trying your best to hold still as you clamped down on the cock that was currently splitting you open.

“that’s more like it, good girl.” he praised with a hum, running his slick hot tongue across your nipple again before sucking it between his lips. he drifted the hand that was gripping your neck tightly down to your other breast, kneading at the flesh. his hips began to stutter from the way your gummy wet walls clenched around him, an exasperated huff coming from his chest.

you could tell he was getting close from the way his manhood twitched inside of you, and you really weren’t far behind him. “i– i’m gonna cum ‘gumi.. ‘m so close..” whimpering and moaning, megumi rutted his hips into you faster. a breathy chuckle leaving his lips as he looked down at you all fucked out on his cock.

“i– fuck. i’m close too. go ahead and cum for me, slut.” he permissed harshly, his hand gripping your tit tighter as he felt you unravel around him. your second orgasm hit you like a truck, your head light and spinny as it rolled to the side. sobs and moans tore through your throat, pleads of his name rolling off your tongue as your slick absolutely drenched his dick.

this threw megumi over the edge, gritting his teeth, his thrusts became a lot less calculated and a lot more sloppy. “gonna cum inside of you, make sure you really know your fucking place.” he mumbled in finality– his cock now pushed right against the entrance to your womb as he filled you up with his load.

you hissed, sucking in air through your teeth as you felt his hot cum paint your walls. megumi’s arms shook as he held himself up, choking back moans as he came down from his high. once you were both finished and panting, you looked at each other in a certain way that had you both holding back laughter.

he pulled his softening dick out of you, hurriedly getting up from the bed to grab a rag. “fuck fuck fuck such a mess.” he stammered, reaching you to wipe up the cum that was beginning to leak from your insides. you cackled breathlessly, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he cleaned you up, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

“you literally just came in me, and you’re worried about the mess?” provoking him in your fucked out state was the wrong idea. he laid another harsh smack on your clit, causing a loud shriek to rip out from your lungs. he smirked, swiping your leaking slit once more before tossing it in the dirty bin.

“you just became a slut for my cock and you already forgot how to speak to me?” he paused, sliding on a new pair of boxers as he looked down at you all sprawled out on his sheets. “i thought you were pretending to be stupid, but maybe you really are.” you scoffed, your hand gripping your chest in faux offense before speaking. “i hate you so much.” you mumbled, your lips forming into a small pout causing a throaty chuckle to bubble up in megumi’s chest. “i promise, i hate you more.”

#smut #geto suguru #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #megumi smut #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk toji #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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angelicyoongie · 1 year

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lovesick (IX)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 11.4k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, dissociation/panic attacks, mild dub-con (character trying to force a kiss), other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold!

Previous - Next

You pull a chunky sweater – Namjoon’s, you think – over your head, the thick wool settling heavily on your shoulders. It makes you want to crawl out of your own skin whenever you have to wear their clothes. You don’t have much of a choice, though, unless you want to freeze your ass off.

They thankfully had enough forethought to bring some of your clothes with them the night they broke into your apartment, but the majority of it isn't warm enough to fend off the dropping temperatures in the cabin. You may be many things, but stupid is not one of them. You know it wasn’t an accident that your warmest clothes were left behind.

You pick at the sweater, frowning, as you nip at it with your nails. You know it’s childish to ruin their things but it’s truly the only way you can act out without foiling your plans. Screaming at them won’t help you one bit and you need some form of outlet for your anger. By the time they pick up on all the tiny holes in their clothes, you’ll hopefully be long gone.

Standing in the middle of the room, you listen intently in the direction of your closed door. When the hallway remains silent, you dart over to your bedside table, carefully opening the heaviest book there. You pull out the thin metal bookmark that’s been nestled strategically between the pages, clutching it in your hand as you hurry over to the window.

You bend down, finding the place you left off yesterday before you resume digging it into the space between sash and the windowsill, slowly chipping away at the paint.

You found the bookmark completely by chance, having it literally fall into your lap a little over a week ago. It was the first time you had dared to touch your belongings after you woke up. Somehow, not touching your things made everything feel a little less real, like if you just wished hard enough, you would blink and find yourself back in your apartment where everything belonged.

But, after a week of pretending you didn’t want to throw up whenever one of your kidnappers brushed up against you, the craving for something familiar became too great.

The bookmark had felt like a godsend. Your heart had squeezed painfully as you remembered that Heejun had gifted it to you many years ago – how it was the first thing he bought after he received his first measly paycheck back when you were teenagers. Who would have thought it would end up being the only tool available to you to escape the stalkers you had so desperately tried to protect him from.

You drive the bookmark in with a huff, hitting the edge with your palm.

You’re pretty confident you’ve been trapped in this cabin for two weeks, give or take a few days. So far, sticking to your plan has been harder than you anticipated. It’s tough, acting like your skin doesn’t crawl when they try to hold your hand, or that your face doesn’t want to twist into a murderous scowl whenever they look at you. No matter how sweet or thoughtful they try to be, you can’t stop thinking about the things they’ve done – the torture they’ve been putting you through for the past year. Even if it goes against every fibre of your being to be around them, you know that this is your only way out. You have to make them trust you, make them comfortable enough to let their guards down, and that’s when you’ll be able to escape.

You never expected it to be easy – how could it be? – but the pretending is beginning to take a toll on you. You’re tired of being locked up, tired of being watched, tired of being around them. It’s a fatigue you can’t escape from no matter how much you try to sleep, and the constant weariness has caused a few near slip-ups already.

It made you unable to stop yourself from jerking away from Taehyung’s hand, despite hearing his footsteps coming up behind you in the hallway long before your arm was touched. It made you flinch when Yoongi stroked the top of your head in passing, even though you had seen him coming. It made your eyes narrow when Hoseok passed you a cup of perfectly normal water.

The weariness is faint, but it’s there.

And somehow, every time it breaches the surface, Jimin is always there to catch it.

He seems to particularly enjoy pushing your buttons. It might be because he knows, at least suspects, that you’re only acting, but Jimin always has a calculating look in his eye when he invades your personal space, when he pushes himself too close for comfort. He’s clearly not that easily fooled by your little act, but you have no clue how to convince him otherwise.

You wince as you hit the bookmark a little too hard, the metal leaving a deep indent behind on your palm.

You take that as your cue to stop chipping away for today, not willing to tempt fate by continuing and risk getting caught. After returning the bookmark to its hiding place, you step back to the window to sweep up the little chips of loose paint into your hand.

Sighing, you take in the sorry state of your precious plants, the poor things having browned and wilted from the increasingly colder temperatures in the cabin. You know there’s no way to save them now that they’re already half-dead, but the dark soil is still of use to you, especially since it proves to be a perfect cover for paint shavings.

You dust off your hands, gaze sweeping over your room to make sure nothing looks out of the ordinary. Deeming everything fine, you turn your attention to your closed door, squaring your shoulders as you listen to the muffled sounds coming from somewhere else in the cabin.

You can do this, you tell yourself, even though both your heart and mind screams no. Straightening yourself out, you glance back at your wilted plants as you open the door. Seeing the dead leaves makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

The only thing you can hope, is that you’ll get out of here before you share the same fate.

You stare down at the pastel yarn in your lap, fingers nimbly casting on another stich as you knit. You enjoy the mindlessness of it – of how you can let your mind wander while your hands work on their own. It's a hobby you picked up a few years ago by chance, when you were procrastinating writing a paper and ended up falling down the rabbit hole of watching people knit chunky blankets at two am. You’ve gotten decently good at it now, at least enough to know some basic recipes by heart.

A sudden huff on your left almost makes you lose a stitch.

You cast a quick glance over at Seokjin as the couch shifts, your own needles pausing as you take in the absolute mess he’s made of the yarn in his hands. Seokjin is pouting down at his creation, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he fumbles awkwardly with his knitting needles. Judging by the jumbled thread around his fingers, he’s just been creating knots for the past few minutes. The sight would’ve been endearing, maybe, if the situation was different. You can picture it a little too easily, how head over heels in love you could’ve been with Seokjin if he had approached you normally. How you would’ve swooned with fondness watching him try so hard to share your hobby with you.

You shake your head, casting the thoughts away before they can settle. It doesn’t matter what could have been when the reality is still this – you’re trapped in a cabin that’s god knows where because he, and the others, are crazy. Whatever weird thing they’re trying to pull by bringing you things you like and participating in your hobbies isn’t going to work. You know that biting your tongue and enduring their antics is an necessary evil, that spending time with them will only help you to better understand what makes them tick - but each passing day is only bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point.

“That doesn’t look right, hyung.” Hoseok chuckles as he walks past the couch, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

He takes a seat on the opposite couch, pulling Jungkook’s feet into his lap. Jungkook is reading one of books Namjoon brought for you, his doe eyes suddenly growing big as he seems to get to particularly interesting plot point. You don’t think it’s a coincidence that he picked the same book you finished yesterday.

As is, you’ve been seeing a lot of them over the past few days.

The boys seem to have worked out a system, something that’ll help them keep up appearances and avoid bringing any suspicion to themselves. It sounded like Hoseok was the one that came up with the idea – of the boys grouping up to stay in the cabin in rotating shifts. Both Seokjin and Hoseok have employees to take over their shifts, Seokjin giving the excuse that he’s trying to branch out the business and thus needs to visit florist fairs out of town, and Hoseok simply stating he wants to take time off for himself now that the shop is doing well. Jungkook can mostly do as he pleases, it’s not like any of your professors take attendance, but you’ve heard him whining to Seokjin about doing extra shifts at Déjà Bloom to make up for the eldest absence.

It seems that Taehyung and Yoongi are established enough in their careers that they can work from home (or the cabin, rather) a few days a week, but you’ve heard them grumbling to the others that their presence is often needed in-house to finish up projects. Jimin, on the other hand, already works in shifts at the station, three days on, one or two days off. You don’t doubt he somehow managed to charm the other officers to give him the best shifts – they seemed willing to break their backs for him the times you visited the station.

It’s Namjoon you’ve seen the least to.

It’s not that surprising, not when he basically runs the local library by himself. He’s already ranted twice about how little support the library gets from the city, so you think it’s safe to assume that he doesn’t have the funds to hire another full-time worker to help him out. You should be glad that it doesn’t leave much time for him to come to the cabin, that he can only come up during the evening and stay until the morning after every now and then, but it only seems to leave him even clingier than normal. The cabin feels extra stifling whenever he comes to visit, with how he constantly hovers around you, holding your hands and hugging you close so that you don’t catch a cold, darling. It makes pretending you don’t mind it just a smidge harder every time.

“I’m trying my best! It’s harder than it looks.” Seokjin whines, hair flopping dramatically as he flings his head back.

You watch his throat bob, lips still pursed in a soft pout as he gently calls out to you, ”Y/n, can you please help me?”

You press your lips into a strained smile, sighing internally as you look at the knotted and lopsided creation in his hands. You don’t even quite understand how he’s managed to tangle it up so badly in such a short time, but the only help you can offer him at this point is just to unravel the whole thing to start anew.

“Sure, give it here.” You murmur.

Seokjin flashes you a sheepish grin as he hands the yarn over, the tips of his ears turning pink as you grimace at the mess. You pull the knitting needles out from the last remaining stitches, tugging on the yarn to find the first knot you’ll have to untie.

“You know you don’t have to force yourself to do this if you don’t enjoy it, right?” You say, staring down at the string as you work to loosen it up.

Honestly, it would be better for you if he didn’t. I do have to spend time with them, but you’d much rather just sit in awkward silence over being reminded of them every time you go to do one of your hobbies after you get out of here.

“I’m not forcing myself to do anything, angel, I want to learn how to knit. I might not be very good right now but I still enjoy it, because it means I get to spend time with you."

You don’t meet the lovesick gaze that burns into the side of your face.

Hoseok does an exaggerated shudder on the other couch, jostling Jungkook’s legs with the movement. ”You’re so sappy, hyung, you’re going to make me gag.”

Seokjin makes an affronted noise, chucking one of the pillows behind his back at Hoseok in retaliation. The pillow ends up veering too much to left, smacking right into the youngest’s head instead of his intended target. Jungkook startles at the impact, too absorbed in his book to even see it coming, shocked eyes blinking back at Seokjin as the pages slip from his grasp.

“What?–”

“Ah, Seokjin hyung, stop bullying Jungkook! The poor baby didn’t do anything wrong!” Hoseok snickers behind his hand as he fusses over Jungkook. He tucks some of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear, gently patting his cheeks to bring him back from the unexpected shock.

“Jungkook-ah, h-hyung didn’t mean it!” Seokjin stutters.

Drowning out their bickering, you turn back to the tangled mess in your hands as Jungkook uses the opportunity to tease Seokjin, joining Hoseok to gang up on him. Your brows furrow as you work on an especially difficult knot, the yarn tied so firmly you struggle to get a hold of it. You’re so focused that you almost don’t realize how the sound of Seokjin’s exasperated voice and Jungkook and Hoseok’s laughter makes your movements falter, heart squeezing in your chest.

You brush of the weird feeling immediately, refusing to linger on the implications as you chalk up the odd moment of weakness on your growing cabin fever.

By the time you’re almost completely done with unravelling Seokjin’s creation, you feel a gentle nudge on your arm. You glance up to find Seokjin already staring at you, his face lighting up as you meet his gaze.

“You know what, angel, I don’t think I ever got to tell you about the time I first saw you.”

You give him a weary look, already knowing you’re probably not going to like where this is going. ”What do you mean? The day at the flower shop?”

“No, the first time, Y/n.” Seokjin smiles, a little bashful. ”It was, eight – nine? months ago, when I was on my way home after closing the shop. It was weird, I ended up taking a completely different route than I normally do and I wasn’t even sure why. There was just this pull, an urge to follow this unknown feeling and figure out what it meant. It ended up leading me to a random grocery store and I suddenly knew there was something I desperately needed in there. I had no clue what it could be, but I figured it would come to me as I walked around.”

“I had almost made my way through the entire building when I finally rounded an aisle, and watched as some kid ran straight into your legs, knocking you over. I almost thought I was dreaming when I felt the pain in my own legs as you connected with the floor. I had already come to terms with never meeting my soulmate, and there you suddenly were, right in front of me.” Seokjin’s voice is thick with emotion, his eyes glossy as he reaches out to take your hand in his.

Because you have to, you allow his warm fingers to wrap around yours, letting it chase away some of the chill in the room despite the fireplace roaring with life close by.

Hoseok and Jungkook look enraptured by Seokjin’s story, and think you can see a faint tremble to youngest’s lips. His tale clearly resonates with the other two, and you have no doubt the others would react similarly if they were here to hear it. It makes you a little jealous, almost, how they get to have memories of relief and happiness over finding their soulmate, while yours is shrouded in terror and confusion.

Seokjin gives you an apologetic smile, squeezing your hand as he says, "I’m sorry I didn’t help you at the time, darling, I was just too shocked.”

“It’s okay.” You murmur, ignoring the what ifs vying for attention in the back of your mind.

There’s one odd thing about Seokjin’s story though, something you’ve never heard about happening between unknown soulmates before.

”You mentioned feeling a pull? What’s that about?"

You think Heejun mentioned how he felt drawn to Jaemin for a few weeks after they found each other the first time, like their soulbond was urging them to strengthen their newfound connection. But that was after. There was never a pull that lead them together in that library, it was only luck – coincidence.

“I’m not sure,” Seokjin admits. ”It was the first and last time felt anything like it.”

“I got that feeling too, that day at the charity event. I normally don’t involve myself in other people’s business, but the thought of not checking out what was going on made my heart ache.” Hoseok adds, a small frown on his face as he rubs his chest.

“Me too. I wasn’t supposed to be in that shared class with Y/n last semester. I had enough credits to drop it, but the thought of doing it made me feel really anxious. I felt like I was going to have a panic attack the one time I actually tried to withdraw from it.” Jungkook says, hesitant eyes flickering from you and Seokjin’s intertwined hands to your face.

“I never felt it, though.” You frown.

You would’ve known if you had, right? If they all had such strong reactions, then there’s no way you could’ve missed all the signs.

Seokjin hums, something contemplating crossing over his features as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. ”You’re not from around here, correct?”

Well, you’re definitely not from here, bumfuck nowhere in the middle of the woods. You bite back the snarky reply, knowing it won’t do you any good to voice it out loud. You’re sure Namjoon must’ve given them the rundown on everything he knows by now, especially with the extensive file he has access to, but since you’re trapped out here for god knows how long, you might as well humour Seokjin and play along.

“No. The city I grew up in is about two hours south by train.”

The three men all nod along like it’s new information, Seokjin even seeming a bit surprised. They would all make fine actors, you think.

“Why did you move here, then? If your friends and family were all back home.”

“The university is nice–”

Hoseok interrupts you with a tsk. ”The university in the next city over is miles better and you know it, sunshine.”

It is.

You even had the grades to be accepted there, if you had wanted to go.

“So? Why did you pick this specific university in this town?” Seokjin prompts, one eyebrow quirked.

You pause. Why did you pick this city to study in? Live in? It wasn’t the best option you had. Hell, the courses aren’t even that interesting compared to what’s offered at other universities. Heejun chose to join you after you had already made a decision, so it’s not like you can blame it on him, either.

“It … felt right.” You breathe.

That’s the only answer you have. There was just this feeling of rightness that washed over you when you settled on your current university, like this is where you were always supposed to be.

Seokjin looks pleased by your revelation, nodding his head as if to say there you go.

You feel yourself growing pale, heart racing and palms turning clammy as the truth slowly but surely sinks in. This entire time you had lived with the belief that the bond didn’t affect you, that there must have been a mistake – something you might be able to change. But this, this means that the pull had been there for you too, that it manifested itself with you first. You just didn’t know it.

None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t come here.

You stare down at the yarn in your lap, at the knots that have been untied and those that are still there. Maybe this was something you were never able to change. Perhaps Namjoon was right, that all of this was destined, and you would’ve ended up here no matter what choices you made.

You’re not sure what hurts most – the idea that fate handed you over to them, or that it was your own soul that betrayed you, tricked you, into this hell of a reality.

Inhaling deeply, you feel the crisp air rush down your throat, nestling deep into your lungs. You keep your face turned towards the weak rays of sunlight streaming through the balding trees, lips twitching at the faint warmth that caresses your face. This is the first time you’ve been outside in weeks and you’re going to use the time you have for all that it’s worth.

The sound of crunching leaves interrupts your moment of peace.

You open your eyes slowly, steeling yourself before you turn back to look at Jungkook. He’s been keeping his distance since you came outside, letting you have a few minutes to yourself. You’re not stupid enough to think that this is him trusting you, though. Jungkook has been tense ever since you stepped outside the cabin, body strung as if he’s only waiting for the moment he’ll have to jump into action to hunt you down.

Thankfully, you’re not dumb enough to believe that you’ll manage get away even if you do try. It’s no coincidence that it’s Jungkook accompanying you outside, it’s easy to tell from his physique alone that he’s likely the strongest and fastest out of all of them. There’s also no chance that Jungkook suddenly decided you bring you outside by himself, without the others being involved first. You knew from the moment Jungkook hesitantly approached you that this was a test.

A test for them to see if you can be trusted; to see if you’ve been broken enough to stay, or if you’ll attempt to run away.

It is tempting, now that you’re outside with the soft ground under your boots and the gentle wind brushing through your hair, but you know that playing the long game is the only thing that will truly get you out of here.

You hug your arms to your chest, pulling Jungkook’s padded jacket closer to your body to fend of the chill that’s started to cling to you. ”I’m getting cold, do you think we can walk for a bit?”

As it is, you’ve barely even moved away from the old house. He lead you out back, to the beginning of the open field behind the cabin, but you haven’t dared to venture much further without his permission. You want Jungkook to take the lead, to let him believe that he's the one in control even if you don’t trust a single bone in his body.

Jungkook pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, doe eyes flickering between you and the clearing nervously. He’s still standing a few feet behind you, just enough to give you the illusion of privacy despite the both of you knowing that you have none.

“We can walk to the tree and back.” He stumbles over the first word before he clears his throat and nods in the direction of the big oak tree in the middle of the clearing.

It’s not as far as you’d like, but you have a feeling it’s to make sure you don’t get too knowledgeable about your surroundings. Either way, you need to stretch your legs and move around to make sure your muscles work once you actually can escape, so the tree is better than nothing.

“Thank you.” You flash him a bright smile, a sense of ugly satisfaction curling in your gut at the way it makes Jungkook almost trip over his own feet.

You fall into step besides him once he closes the distance between you, allowing your arm to brush against his as you trudge through the withered grass and moss. The brief contact is enough to make Jungkook flustered, and even though you hate it, you know you have to keep initiating it in hopes that it'll break down his walls faster.

“The hyungs ..” Jungkook starts, his mouth pinching into a faint frown. ”The choices they made weren’t the right ones, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad people. I-I don’t like keeping you here but they – we – are scared of losing you, of you not giving us a chance if we let you go. They’re only trying to do what’s best for all of us, even if it doesn't seem like it right now.”

He sees the unconvinced look that passes over your face before you manage to school your features, the slight purse of your lips that tells him you’re not fully ready to accept the truth just yet. He continues still, voice filled with gentle mirth as he talks about the others.

“They’ve helped me a lot. The hyungs sort of took me under their wing the moment I met them. I-I, um, didn’t have the best childhood, my parents weren’t always k-kind, but the hyungs have always tried to make up for it – to make sure I never had to deal with that kind of hurt again. My s-stutter used to be much worse before, before they showed me what it felt like to be safe and happy.”

Your treacherous heart aches for him. You release a soft breath, letting go of the urge to take Jungkook into your arms with it. You keep your eyes on the pale blue sky, whispering out a simple, ”I’m sorry.”

“I-I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad for me.” Jungkook rushes to say.

”I don’t even know why I said it, I-I just … want you to know that deep down, they always mean well. When my parents cut me off, Seokjin hyung offered me a job even though business was too slow for an extra part-timer at the time. I hated working for hyung in the beginning. He practically forced me to, saying that exposure to people would help me overcome my shyness and s-stutter. I was always so anxious I couldn’t sleep the night before my shifts, worried s-sick that the customers would be mean and make fun of the way I talked. It was rough, but it helped. Hyung was always there to make sure it nothing bad happened. Seokjin hyung and the others have all taken care of me in their own ways, even if they may seem unconventional to others. The hyungs just care, so much, about the people they love. I-I really don’t know where I would be without them."

“I believe you.”

You don’t doubt that the others have taken good care of Jungkook, or that they all care for each other. You would have to be blind not to see that they’re all close friends, that they all love each other, regardless of the influence of the faint soulbond they share. They might mean well, they might think they’re doing the right thing, but that doesn’t excuse anything that has transpired in the last year.

You still hate them.

That won’t ever change.

“You do?” Jungkook’s doe eyes grow wide with surprise. His lips stretch into a happy grin when you nod, his soft curls bouncing against his cheek as his steps seem to get a little more pep in them.

You crane your head back as you reach the tree, looking up at the sun through the barren branches. You watch a couple of birds fly across the sky, spreading their wings as they dance with the wind, swooping and rising as it pleases them. Oh, how you wish you could join them. You’d be willing to give almost anything for a pair of wings to get yourself out of here. To fly away from the rotting earth under your feet and the heat of Jungkook’s gaze on your face.

You can see him toing at the fallen leaves out of the corner of your eye, his breath hitching every time he opens his mouth to say something, only to regret it and screw his lips shut immediately. He pauses, his chest rising and falling with unsure breaths, before he timidly admits, ”I-I think I might have been the one that helped Tae hyung send roses to your apartment.”

The suddenness catches you off guard. You turn to properly look at him, dumbfounded, as you wait for him to go on.

“I-I didn’t know it was you at the time! Hyung pulled me aside one night when we were all hanging out and asked me if I could help him deliver some flowers without Seokjin hyung knowing about it. Hyung looked so shy, so happy, when he mentioned he had found his soulmate and wanted to woo them properly. We never really talked about our marks – but Taehyung has always had the most trust in the soulmate system, he has always believed he would find his other half. So I-I was really touched that he wanted my help with something so special.”

“Tae hyung never gave me a name, just the address and the apartment number it should be delivered too. I-I didn’t know where you lived since I always left my letters in your locker, so I didn’t connect the dots until I saw him in Hoseok hyung’s shop. Back then, I wanted to respect hyung’s wishes and keep it a secret, he didn’t seem ready to share it with the whole group yet. He seemed particularly worried about Seokjin hyung, that it would affect him badly because his own soulmate had died–”

Jungkook looks like he’s bitten into something sour as the word leaves his tongue. He shakes his head, eyes rolling before he adds, “which obviously wasn’t true – but I understood his reasoning at the time. I regret not asking him more about it, though.”

You blink at him, another piece of the puzzle clicking into place. That is why Seokjin didn’t have any information about the roses, because Jungkook had done it off the books.

For the first time since you stepped outside, Jungkook adverts his gaze to the ground. He hangs his head, a deep furrow appearing between his brows as he stares down at the dying grass. Jungkook pouts, his lip beginning to wobble before he hurriedly pulls it between his teeth. The scrape of his teeth as he bites down on the soft flesh leaves a faint sting in your own; the cruel reminder of your bond causing you to clench your fists.

Jungkook sounds regretful, quiet, when he finally says, "I wish I hadn’t helped hyung cause you even more pain.”

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a brief moment to collect yourself. What are you supposed to say? It’s okay? Because it’s not. I forgive you? Because you don’t.

You turn on your heel, shoving your fists deep into your pockets to hide the way they tremble. ”You didn’t know.”

Jungkook lets out a wounded sound, something close to a hiccup, as he keeps his head bowed in apology.

“I’m still sorry, Y/n.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

Remorse you can work with. If Jungkook is truly regretful of what he’s done, you should be able to use that to your advantage.

You swallow thickly, stepping closer to nudge his shoulder with your own. Jungkook’s dark eyes shine with guilt as he raises his head, face nothing short of distraught as he meets your gaze.

“Let’s go back, Jungkookie.” You give him a weak smile, the nickname foreign as it rolls off your tongue.

It has the intended effect though, as you watch Jungkook’s mouth fall open, a star struck expression taking over his features. You’ve been mentally prepping yourself for this moment for days, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. This is the first time you’ve reciprocated the same closeness, familiarity, that they’ve been suffocating you with ever since you got here. The fact that Jungkook is the first one to hear it is a big deal, one you hope will make the others jealous – miserable – as they hopelessly wait for their turn.

You take a step forward, waiting for Jungkook to snap out of his daze before you continue walking any further. The guilt on his face has softened into something sweeter, doe eyes sparkling, as he begins to lead you back to the cabin.

You can work with this, you think. Maybe if you continue to focus on Jungkook, on the remorse he carries and how eager he is for you forgiveness, you can manipulate him into letting you go. Maybe you can go out for a walk again, ask for some alone time now that he thinks you won’t run–

You squeak as you step on a patch of frozen mud, feet sliding out from underneath you. In the fraction of the second it takes for Jungkook to grab you, all you can think is; not again. He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as he drags you away from slippery patch. Your face is smushed against his padded jacket, your chests falling and rising in tandem from the scare.

You swear it’s like a flip has been switched ever since you got here, your clumsiness levels having gone from ten to a hundred. You were never this bad back in the city; but you also were never this caught up in your own thoughts with planning possible escape routes, either.

“I’m fine.” You blurt out before Jungkook can open his mouth to ask. "Thank you for catching me. Uh, again.”

Jungkook hugs you close, arms squeezing around your waist in reply before he leans back to look at you. The proximity makes you gulp, your throat suddenly painfully dry as you stare at him up-close. With his face so close to yours, you can’t help but notice the small mole beneath his lips, or how pink and glossy his mouth looks after he mindlessly wets it. The cold temperature outside has given his cheeks a healthy flush, adding even more charm to his already cute face.

Despite everything that has happened, you can’t deny the fact that Jungkook is handsome. Pretty - in fact.

Your heart tumbles in your chest as Jungkook takes a tiny step closer. You can barely even feel his hands anymore, the pressure on your waist so light you would think you were made of glass. It’s a stark contrast to how bone crushingly heavy his gaze feels. There’s something intense, yet nervous, in his eyes as they slowly roam over your face, almost like he’s carefully committing every detail to memory.

Your brain is screaming at you to step away, to run, as his face cautiously moves closer to yours, but you can’t seem to move, feet frozen to the cold ground. Even with the sun shining down at you, you swear you can make out stars in Jungkook’s dark eyes as he leans in. Heart racing, you tilt your head, eyelids swooping low as the air fogs up between you.

A particularly harsh breath of air escapes from your lips, the force strong enough to create a misty cloud that momentarily separates you from Jungkook as the condensation drifts upwards. The fleeting veil between you is enough to snap you back to your senses. The weirdly anticipatory fluttering of your heart screeches to a halt, immediately being replaced by a violent shiver of horror as the air clears.

“Jungkook.” Your voice sounds strangled even to your own ears.

Jungkook stops in his tracks as you call out his name, dazed eyes sweeping up from your lips to the strained expression on your face. You would think a cold bucket of water has been dumped over his head with how quickly he releases you, hands yanked away from your body as he stumbles back.

“Y/n, I–” He cuts himself off, face fluctuating between longing and sadness as he looks away. Jungkook shoves his shaking hands into his pockets, voice weak as he says. ”Let’s go back to the cabin.”

You nod, tightly gripping on to the sides of your jacket as you curl your arms protectively around your middle. You once again fall into step beside him, the distance between the two of you much greater than it was before. Your heart is still galloping away in your chest, your stomach tight with nerves. You should be disgusted, repulsed, that Jungkook tried to kiss you, but all you can feel is just – confusion. Jungkook wasn’t the only person that leaned in.

For a split second, no matter how brief it was, you wanted it too.

You swallow down the bile rising in your throat, keeping your gaze firmly locked onto the ground as the cabin’s shadow begins to loom over you. This isn’t good. It’s hard to weed out the cause of your moment of weakness; maybe it was cabin fever, or maybe your basic need for human affection latched on to the person that seemed the least threatening. Or, perhaps worst of all, maybe your soulbond is beginning to turn on you – beginning to accept them despite the circumstances forcing you together.

You cast one last glance up at the weak sun, hugging yourself tight. You whisper out a small prayer to the remaining leaves rustling in the trees, begging that all of this won’t cause you to lose yourself. That you won’t lose sight of the only goal you have.

Escape.

In hindsight, you should’ve known the pretending could only go on for so long.

You breathe in slowly through your nose, carefully scrubbing away any traces of dirt from the carrots in front of you. Cold water flows over your hands whenever you go to rinse one off but the sensation barely even registers, your mind all too aware of the eyes boring holes into your back.

You had jumped at the chance to help Yoongi in the kitchen – any low effort activity that still made it seem like you wanted to be near them were your favourite – but you hadn’t accounted for Taehyung and Jimin to join you as well.

It's unnerving, feeling their eyes following every minuscule movement you make as you follow Yoongi’s instructions. The tasks he gives you are superficial, washing vegetables and stirring pots, but there’s not much else for you to do when you’re not allowed near any knives. Still, regardless of how simple they are, you try to take your time doing them whenever you help Yoongi out.

Normally it’s just to buy yourself a few extra minutes of silence in the kitchen since the others tend to stay clear of it, but now, it’s the sinking feeling in your stomach that makes your movements drag.

Taehyung and Jimin are up to something. You’re very aware that they aren’t as gullible as the rest - that they’re on to what you’re trying to do.

You carefully place the shiny carrot on the cutting board besides you, listening to the steady chop chop chop of Yoongi’s knife as he dices it up for the stew he’s making. He’s muttering something under his breath, his dark brows knitted together in concentration as he stares down at the knife.

He never rushes you, you’ve found.

Regardless of the reason why – maybe he believes you’re being slow to spend more time with him or maybe he knows you need a break from the others some times – you know Yoongi doesn’t mind it. After all, it means he gets more alone time with you.

“Ah–” Yoongi pauses, knife hitting the cutting board with a dull thud. ”I forgot the new spices in the car! I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” You nod, feeling uneasy as you run another carrot under the slow stream of water.

You look over your shoulder, watching Yoongi step back from the counter, knife still in hand as he turns around to face Taehyung and Jimin. He points it in their direction, eyes narrowed as he drawls out a stern, ”Behave.”

Taehyung scoffs, childishly turning up his nose at Yoongi’s demand as he leans back in his chair.

“I’m offended, hyung. When have we not?” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Yoongi’s jaw locks, a frustrated rush of air leaving his nose. ”Like I said, I’ll be right back.” He shakes his head as he goes, throwing the pair another pointed glare before he exits the kitchen.

The moment Yoongi steps out the door; Taehyung and Jimin’s eyes seem to snap to each other like magnets. It’s nothing more than a quick glance, but even just that brief contact carries enough weight to make the alarms in your head blare.

You whip your head back to the sink, hoping they didn’t notice you watching them. Sending out a silent wish for Yoongi to return within the next ten seconds, you resume cleaning the vegetables in front of you, praying the pair will leave you be if you look busy enough.

Only a slow second passes before Jimin’s airy voice calls out to you from the kitchen table.

“Baby, is Yoongi hyung working you too hard? You know you can just relax and let us take care of things, right?”

You stiffen at the question, muscles locking up under the wave of tension that grips your body. Forcing your hands to keep moving, you let out a strained answer in return. ”I-I don’t mind. I like helping out.”

“Ah. I see.”

You can't be sure, not with your back turned and his expression hidden from view, but you swear for a split second that Jimin sounded jealous.

“So, you’re enjoying your time here, then?” He asks, voice deceptively calm.

Nervous, you wet your lips, scrubbing harder at the squeaky clean carrot in your hand. What game is he playing?

“Of course.” You say, proud of the way your voice doesn’t falter.

Jimin hums. The sound is accompanied by slow rhythmic taps against the kitchen table, almost as if he's unknowingly thrumming his fingers as he thinks. Except – the motion is too controlled, too deliberate.

He’s trying to set you on edge.

“There’s nothing you’d want to change? You like being here with us?”

It’s a trap, you know it is, but how can you do anything else besides walk right into it? You can’t tell Jimin the truth. Not when you’ve already come this far.

Jimin must revel in the knowledge that he’s got you cornered.

You clutch the edge of the sink as a chair screeches behind you, soft footsteps padding across the floor until you can feel someone hovering behind you. You squeeze your eyes shut as Taehyung’s familiar cologne invades your nose. You can’t focus with him, who’s practically danger personified, standing so close.

What’s taking Yoongi so long?

Gritting your teeth, you slowly place the clean carrot on Yoongi’s cutting board, praying Taehyung doesn’t notice the way your hand trembles. Jimin asked you a question, but you can’t seem to recall what it was, his voice all muddled together in your head. Flustered, the only thing you can seem to focus on are the soft puffs of air hitting your hair, Taehyung quite literally breathing down your neck. You must take too long because you suddenly find yourself being spun around, the world moving too fast until you find yourself caged between Taehyung’s arms, pressed against the counter.

You jerk back, surprised, heart in your throat as Taehyung’s intense eyes stare you down.

“Answer Jiminie's question, babe.”

You hold his gaze, your skin crawling as you muster up a shaky smile.

“Y-Yes. I didn’t see it at first but I understand it now, why you all did it.” The words are painful to push out, your tongue hesitating to curve around your blatant lies. ”I’m h-happy here – with you.”

Jimin makes a delighted sound, but it’s just as fake as the bravado on your face.

“Are you now? That’s great, baby. I guess none of us are making you uncomfortable, then? We haven’t been ah, overstepping, any boundaries?”

“Of course not.”

Taehyung cocks his head, face flat as he asks. ”So you don’t like Jungkook and Yoongi better than the rest of us?”

“What?” You breathe, taken aback.

You can’t believe your plan might have actually worked.

It’s been a few days since your outing with Jungkook and you’ve been nervously waiting for one of them to bring it up. There’s no way they didn’t wring him out for details afterwards. Maybe they haven’t caught on what you’ve been doing at all, too busy stewing in their jealousy of the others?

“You seem to have grown … close, lately.” Taehyung frowns. ”So, do you? Like them more than us?”

You hate them all equally.

“No.” You’re quick to shake your head. The longer you manage to convince them you care for all of them whilst giving a few special treatment, the better. It’s bound to cause some friction between them, no matter how close they are.

Taehyung lights up, his boxy smile coming in at full force at your rebuttal.

A cough from Jimin is all it takes for it to disappear.

A shiver racks down your spine as you watch the light dim just as quickly as it arrived, his grin faltering as suspicion seems to creep in. He inches closer, scrutinizing your face as he asks, ”Y/n, do you love us?”

“I–” You swallow thickly.

You assumed they would ask at some point but not right now. Not when you’re already struggling to keep your panic at bay and your head on straight. You feel like you’re walking on a tightrope, the edges fraying at both sides.

Still, you manage to force out a shaky, ”I’m your soulmate, how can I not?”

That seems to be enough to placate him, Taehyung’s smile returning once again. This time though, his lips stretch into something more sinister than kind. It makes you realize your mistake a little too late – you never should have worded it as a challenge.

“Yeah?” Taehyung leans in, eyebrows quirking as his gaze dips down to your lips. ”Prove it then.”

You freeze as Taehyung’s hands find your waist, long fingers holding you firmly in place. Your mind races as his face draws closer and closer, Taehyung darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

They tricked, lured you, right into this. You never had the upper hand. It seems that the only person who’s been played is you.

Your eyes widen in alarm as his flutter closed, gaze darting around wildly as you look for a way to escape. There’s no natural way for you to duck away from Taehyung, no lies that will make sense. They’ve caught you and you have no doubt they’ll tattle to the others if you don’t kiss him.

The rational part of your brain is yelling at you to just do it! – you’ve come too far to throw all that progress away over a simple kiss. But the rest of you aches, mourns, the idea. To give yourself away so easily to someone you hate so deeply. Taehyung may see someone he loves, someone he thinks he knows; but all you can see as you look at his face is anxiety and terror; your sanity slipping through your fingers like sand.

He’s so close, brows starting to furrow in confusion as he never meets your lips, unaware of how you’ve been pulling back to keep your distance. Your neck is starting to cramp from the odd angle, hands shaking by your sides as Taehyung’s sweater brushes against them.

He lets out an annoyed breath, the fingers on your waist tightening as if he’s going to pull you against his chest to get you closer.

You can’t. You can’t, you can’t–

Your hands fly out, pushing Taehyung away. You feel cracked open, panicked, the fear and anger you’ve been suppressing ever since you woke up here spilling out and engulfing you from head to toe.

The force causes Taehyung to stumble back, shocked, until he hits the edge of the kitchen table. He blinks at you like he doesn’t understand what’s going on, like he doesn’t know what he just tried to do. He raises a hand as if he’s going to reach out for you, come back, despite your rejection.

They’ll never change.

They’ll never understand.

A sickening wave of terror crashes over you, mixing with the panic as it builds and builds and builds– until you finally, simply – break.

“Do not touch me.” You let out a shrill scream, a note of hysteria colouring your voice. ”How could I ever love you, when this is how you treat me? When you’ve ruined my life?”

Straightening up, you step away from the counter, pulse roaring in your ears as you stare Taehyung down. "The thought makes me sick. Our soulbond is a mistake, a cruel joke, and I don’t accept it. I’d rather die than fall in love with the likes of you – any of you."

Taehyung looks stricken. He must’ve known you weren’t completely truthful if he decided to scheme with Jimin, and yet, he clearly didn’t quite grasp just how vehemently you actually hate him – them. Underneath the panic, there’s a sick sense of satisfaction curling in your gut as Taehyung’s throat keeps bobbing, his dark eyes welling up under your hard glare.

A heavy silence settles over the kitchen as your voice tapers off. Yoongi’s soup has begun to boil and sputter, but you can barely hear it over your own ragged breaths. The burst of bravery you had is already dying off, leaving you trembling in place as it dawns on you just how badly you’ve fucked up.

You startle as Jimin’s low whistle fills the air.

“There she is.”

You jerk your head in his direction, finding Jimin languidly leaning back in a chair, seemingly unaffected by everything you just hurtled at them. You can detect a hint of annoyance, like he’s angry he was proven right, but the smirk pulling at his mouth speaks louder. Jimin looks amused, excited, that you finally showed your true colours.

“What?” You seethe.

“I knew it.” Jimin’s gaze feels like tiny knives, the coldness in them a terrible juxtaposition to the growing smile on his face. ”You’re not broken in at all, are you, baby?”

Bile shoots up your throat so fast you’re surprised you manage to not throw up. You clench you teeth, hands shaking with rage by your sides.

You want to punch him so, so badly.

Even though you know you’ll only end up hurting yourself in the process, you still find yourself moving forward, vision zeroed in on Jimin's gloating expression.

You’ve only taken a few steps when Yoongi rushes back into the room, Hoseok hot on his heels. They both look you up and down, checking for any visible injuries, before they take in the fury on your face.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asks. His concern morphs into anger as he looks from you to Jimin and Taehyung, their wildly different expressions painting quite the story.

You have enough wits left to know that you need to leave before Jimin opens his mouth. Yoongi may be annoyed with him now for upsetting you, but you’re sure that’ll change once he hears what you just threw in their faces. It doesn’t take a genius to know that this is going to turn out very bad for you.

You take your chance as Hoseok hisses a low 'Park Jimin’ under his breath, sidestepping Yoongi as he stalks over to Jimin’s chair.

Bolting out of the room, you manage to catch Yoongi so off guard that he doesn’t have time to stop you, and Hoseok is too far away to grab you even if he wanted to. You run past Seokjin in the hallway, surprise blooming on his face as you enter your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

Panicked, you grab the desk chair, propping it under the door handle to hold it shut. You have no key, nothing to lock it with, so you hurriedly shove whatever furniture you can up to the door, creating a makeshift barricade you know won’t hold them back for very long once they hear the full story from Jimin.

You fist your hair, eyes burning with tears as you pace around the room. You flinch at the loud yelling carrying all the way from the kitchen, six voices rising and falling as they argue heatedly. The door muffles the sounds, but you can still hear your name being shouted back and fourth, over and over again.

Your chest feels so tight you can barely breathe, lungs refusing to expand as terror clings to your body like a second skin. Everything you worked for over the last month was all for nothing, there’s no way they’ll ever trust you after this. You stumble forward, gripping the edge of the bed to steady yourself. There’s no doubt in your mind that they'll do something more drastic to feed their fantasies, that they’ll chain you up somewhere and lose themselves so deep in their delusions that their last bits of sanity will slip away if it means they’ll get to have you.

“No, no, no…” You let out a muffled cry, silently sobbing into your hand as you keep pacing around the room, desperate to find anything that might help you.

You nearly collapse to the floor when you notice something shiny poking out from under your bed, the metal gleaming in the muted light. The bookmark. It must’ve fallen out when you pushed your bedside table over to the door.

Rushing over to snatch it up, you weigh the cool surface in your hand as you spin around to face the window.

You’ve already doomed yourself by blowing up at Jimin.

There’s nothing left for you to lose.

Heart in your throat, you hurry over to the window. You find the small patch you have left, using all the force you can muster to quickly chip away the last of the paint sealing it shut. You dig it in, gritting your jaw as your palm aches with every hit. The yelling in the kitchen hasn’t seized so they must be too engrossed in their arguing to notice the faint pain.

You drop the bookmark to the floor as the last touch of dried paint is gone, gripping the ledge of the window as you start pushing upwards.

It’s not moving.

“Come on.” You grunt, exhaling harshly through your nose as your arms begin to burn under the strain.

You step back, giving your muscles a moment of rest before you resume your grip, putting all your remaining strength into one final push. You’re not sure what does it, maybe it's your adrenaline giving you one last boost, or maybe the universe hears your whispered please against the glass, but the window groans – and opens.

You blink at the fresh air that rushes in, in disbelief that it actually worked. You can get out of here.

You can run.

Wasting no time, you throw a leg out of the window, twisting around to grip the ledge as you carefully lower yourself to the ground. The cabin is only slightly raised from the ground but this isn’t the time to be hasty. Not when you can taste freedom in the crisp autumn air, the dark woods around you welcoming you in with barren branches. If you hurt yourself now, it’s game over.

You wince as your feet reach the freezing ground, the cold seeping right through your woollen socks. You hold your breath, sticking close to the wall and hunching down whenever you pass by a window. You’re going in the opposite direction of the kitchen, but you can’t take any chances.

It’s only when you’ve peeked around the edge of the house, making sure the coast is clear, that you sprint directly for the woods surrounding you.

You hit it at an angle, making sure you won’t be seen from the front of the house while still keeping yourself somewhat parallel to the dirt road you noticed before. It’s too risky to use it, your recapture almost a certain thing if you do. There’s a greater chance of shaking them off under the covers of low branches and fallen trees, so you stick to the dark woods, knowing it’s your ticket out.

You duck under a branch, breath fogging up the air in front of you as you run. Everything aches and burns, but you push through it with clenched teeth, ignoring the taste of blood in your mouth. Being held in the cabin for a month has ruined your stamina, your body protesting the intense movement more than normal but your flight instinct is enough to keep you on your feet. You can barely feel them underneath you; the wet mud coating your socks has chilled you to the bone.

Wheezing, you push a thorny bush out of your way, not even registering the deep cuts they leave on your hands. The pain doesn’t matter. You’d sacrifice a limb if it meant you would get away from them.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been running, or how far you’ve gone, but it’s not far enough. Not when you can still make out the faint, panicked screams of your name echoing through the night.

Their calls makes your stomach twist in fear, a terrible reminder of what awaits you if they catch up with you. They must know what direction you’re heading in by now, but you intend to use your head start for what it’s worth. You’re going to let the adrenaline pumping through your veins take you as far as you can go; until your body collapses, or you’re somewhere safe. Whichever comes first.

It feels like you’ve run for an eternity through the woods by the time you see gravel turning into concrete.

You halt by the tree line, clinging on to a low branch as you gasp for air. Your lungs are burning, collapsing, and the air you gulp down stings with every breath. You’re so tired you can barely stand anymore, and yet, you know you need to keep moving. You need to reach the small cluster of lights twinkling far, far away in the distance.

You press your forehead against the cold bark, hoping the dark spots clouding your vision will settle down if you can only catch your breath. Startled, you wince as something light floods through your eyelids, gaze snapping open to find headlights illuminating the dark roads in front of you.

You sway on your feet, staring at the car driving towards you in utter shock. It’s coming from the direction of the city, which means it can’t be them.

You’re saved.

You stumble into the road, waving your hands desperately as you yell for the car to stop, stop, stop, please stop!

The driver hits the breaks hard, the harsh headlights blinding you as the tires screech against the road. You raise a hand, shielding your eyes from the bright lights. The driver’s startled scream is muffled by the car, the vehicle groaning as it’s forced to come to an abrupt stop a few feet away.

You squint as the driver’s door is flung open, the outline of a man scrambling out. He grips the edge of the door, chest heaving with what you assume is quick breaths from the near miss he just had. The apology for scaring him is on the tip of your tongue, but before you can say anything, the man releases a harsh exhale into the night, the car lights illuminating his breath as it drifts upwards.

“Y/n?"

Your heart promptly drops to your stomach.

Namjoon.

He looms over the car as he shuts the door, the soft click loud as a gunshot in the quiet air.

It can’t be, he – he left yesterday. You allowed him to hug you for far longer than you liked, all because he was supposed to be gone for two days. Not one. Namjoon wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the cabin today. It didn’t even graze your mind that the driver could be him – that fate could be so cruel to lead you right back to them.

You slowly lower your hand, a new surge of panic building inside of you.

You can run, but you’re tired, and Namjoon is not. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll catch you before you even make it off the road. It’s not like you can knock him out and steal the car either, you wouldn’t have been able to overpower him even if you were freshly rested. He’ll drag you back to that cabin kicking and screaming, or – you have one last thing you can try.

Dread weighs you down as you rush forward, making every step feel slow and sluggish, wrong, as you propel yourself right into Namjoon’s arms.

“Namjoon,” You choke, clawing the back of his coat as you press yourself closer, tighter. ”Please – please, take me away from here. I only want to be with y-you, not the others. Don’t make me go back, please.”

“Darling,” Namjoon breathes, utterly overwhelmed. The strong arms wrapping around your back feel like steel bars, caging you against his chest, sealing your fate. ”I don’t understand, Y/n, what–"

“I need you. Only you.”

You just need him to accept, to take you away. He knows the others, knows where they’ll look first and what they’ll do, and once you’re sure you’re safe from them, you’ll figure out a way to escape from Namjoon too.

You flinch at the sound of an incoming call connecting to the car’s speakers, the volume loud even through closed doors. Pulling back, you twist your head just enough to glance at the name displayed across the media system.

JIMIN.

The call disconnects when it isn’t picked up, and your blood runs cold as another one immediately comes in, Hoseok’s name replacing Jimin’s.

They surely can’t know that you’re with Namjoon right now, they’re probably calling to let him know you’re gone, but it only ramps up your nerves, lighting another spark on the fuse that’s already burning up too fast.

Namjoon is staring at the same spot you are, expression tight. The furrow between his brows grows deeper the more he thinks, and you need him to not to that. You need him to trust you. Forget the rest.

“Namjoon,” You whisper sweetly, smiling through the tremor in your voice. You reach up to cup his face, turning his full attention back to you with an icy caress. His skin feels burning hot against you chilled skin, a low buzz spreading from the tips of your fingers all the way up your arm the longer you touch him.

Namjoon looks at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock at your willing affection. Everything about him is tense and unsure, but he still leans into your palm, seeking comfort in your touch.

“The others ... they can’t c-care for me the same way that you do. You’re the only soulmate I need, the only one I want. Won’t you please take me away? I really l-like you.”

You let your voice grow softer and softer the closer you lean in, your last words practically whispered into his lips. Namjoon shivers, his dark eyes turning hazy at the close proximity, at how his dreams are so close to coming true.

Nausea swirls in your stomach as his hot breath spills across your mouth, your heart thundering in your chest. Everything just feels so numb, frozen; your emotions too frayed and exhausted to act up, and your body too chilled to move. Still, you use the shaking hand behind Namjoon’s back to pull him closer, your iced lips clumsily grazing the side of his mouth.

This is it, you think as Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed and his breath hitches, you have him.

You just need a little more, just one proper kiss to convince him and then your escape is secured.

You’re just about to inch off the ground to make sure you find his lips when something pained flashes across Namjoon’s face, and he leans back, out of reach.

Confused, you watch as he releases a deep sigh, turning his head to gaze up at the night sky. He watches it for a second, seemingly finding whatever answer he was reaching for, and looks back at you.

“You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” Namjoon asks, his dark eyes brimming with hurt.

“W-what? No!” You scramble to pull him close, both hands tugging on the lapel of his coat, but Namjoon doesn’t budge.

“I want to believe you but I can’t, darling.” He shakes his head. ”I have to bring you back.”

“I can’t! Please, I can’t go back, this isn’t what I want–” You plead, desperate, as you try to push away from Namjoon’s chest.

He simply tightens his grip in response, pulling you flush against him until you can feel his heart racing alongside your own. He shushes any attempts of begging, rocking you back and forth as you heave in his arms.

"I would love to whisk you away and keep you all to myself, but it wouldn’t be fair to the others, Y/n. You’re their soulmate, too.”

Namjoon’s voice sounds murky and muffled, insignificant, in comparison to the terror gripping your body.

You can’t go back.

Whatever it is they have in store for you, you’d rather die than experience it.

“What about me?!” You sob, hot tears burning down your cheeks as you weakly hit Namjoon’s chest. ”How is any of this fair to me?”

Namjoon pauses, thinks, before he rests his head on top of yours; nodding into your hair as he says, ”It’s not."

“It’s not fair to you, but this is the best we can do. We’re trying, Y/n, and it's about time you start doing that too.”

Something in you shatters.

Your heart, you think. Maybe your mind.

They don’t care. No matter what you do or what you say, if it doesn’t match the reality they’ve made up in their heads, they won’t care.

You’re on your own. A scared little lamb clever enough to escape the slaughterhouse, but not smart enough to avoid the wolf. And now it’s bringing you back to be eaten, torn apart, by his whole pack.

Your body can’t handle the myriad of emotions that crash over you all at once. You slump in Namjoon’s arms, legs giving out underneath you. He holds you close, murmuring something you can’t make out as you stare up at the night sky with glossy, unseeing eyes.

You’re just so tired.

The past year has been one big trauma, one you never processed, and now, you got a taste of freedom only for it to be crushed under the tires of Namjoon’s car.

You’re exhausted.

Your vision tilts as you’re lifted of the ground, your numb feet barely feeling the ground leaving them.

You’re cold.

The night sky grows darker and darker, swallowing up the stars one by one as you’re carried around the side of the car. The darkness fills your sight until it’s the only thing you can see, a blast of warm air engulfing your body as a door clicks open.

A low apology is whispered into the car. Dry lips press against your forehead.

You give up.

a/n: please consider supporting me by buying me a ko-fi! 💖

wooo lots of things happened in this one! what do you think about y/n’s chat with seokjin? her walk with jungkook? what vmin was trying to pull in the kitchen? did you think namjoon was going to show up and take her back? let me know, i’m eager to hear your thoughts!!

you know the drill - everything is unbetaed so please excuse any mistakes!

stream indigo and wish seokjin a happy b-day!!

#bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere hoseok #yandere taehyung #yandere jimin #ot7 x reader #bts au #yandere kpop #bts soulmate au #yandere x reader

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theblueflower05 · 10 months

Note

you said extra nasty ? i want Neteyam to choke me then slap me (not that hard tho) and spit in my mouth simultaneously 🤤

Ughhhhh. Getting sweet boy Neteyam worked up enough to be brutal with you is hard- but once he’s there? BABY. He’s there.

Lotsa Smut below the cut

Like. It would take days of teasing to make him snap.

Listen we all know I’m a soft submissive Neteyam lover, but I think when he’s dominant it’s in a very body worship kind of way. Like he’s making you come over and over and ravaging your body until you can’t breathe.

So getting him to just jack-hammer you and like take out all of his aggression on you? It’s a delicate formula and it doesn’t happen often.

It’s a multitude of things. It’s the tiny tweng you don for the day, and the way it sits on your swaying hips. It’s you kissing him long and hard as he leaves with the war party- and finally. It’s a hard tug on his tail while he’s chatting with his father and the other Omiticayan generals.

It has him seeing red.

You’re being such a fucking BRAT. Acting out horribly for attention.

And so he gives you all of his attention. Just not in the way you’d expect-

He’s mean. Vicious instead of praising. He fucks you you’re a crying blubbering mess. Drenched in come and sweat and tears.

“Oh yawne” Neteyam croons meanly. He has you pinned to the ground, your thighs spread painfully wide as his hips snap into you. He’s fucking you without remorse- it’s maddening “you need to shut up. You’re being too loud”

How can you be quiet when he’s pounding you like this?

Every breath comes out in a wheezing gasp- knocked out of your chest by the force of his thrusts. Your poor pussy is swollen and over used- so hyper sensitive from the orgasms that he’s wrong out of you that it feels like you’re on fire in your core.

You can’t stop crying. Can’t stop pushing him away. Can’t stop pulling him in for more.

You try to tell him- but all that comes out is a blubbery mess, your voice high and snotty “Can-can’t. Can’t. Can’t”

The huff he lets out is annoyed, he’s so beyond over your shit.

First you want to make him lose it?

Now you can’t even have enough decorum to be quiet- don’t you know the entirety of high camp can mostly likely hear you?

They can hear your pathetic wailing. Your moans. Your slutty cries. You’ll be dubbed the village whore if you don’t shut up.

So he makes you.

Neteyam’s hands have always been gorgeous to you. They’re so strong, all lean and sinew. Capable of murder- but also of incomprehensible tenderness. He’s used them to slit the throats of Sky People, but also to gently braid Tuk’s hair.

They are no less stunning as he reaches up to wrap them around your throat. First one, and then both. Your thin delicate neck completely encased by his big hands as he continues to fuck you.

He chokes the sounds down before they can come.

Your mouth is open- in a silent scream as your golden eyes fearfully search his. He’s never done this to you. It thrills you as much as it scares you.

Neteyam just gives you a reassuring look, before he firmly squeezes at your pulse point.

Your pussy flutters and creams around him and you go limp. The pleasure other worldly. You belong to him, in that moment, and for the rest of time.

“You’re something else” Neteyam laughs at you. Watching your glazed over expression as he chokes you.

You’re too blissed out to speak. Not that you could anyway, with his strong hands around your throat.

You mouth one word.

Yours.

You’re so filthy. You bring out the fucking worst in him and he doesn’t understand why he likes it so much.

When your mouth opens and your pretty pink tongue sticks out- pleadingly- he knows what you want.

Neteyam spits without aim. The globs of his saliva don’t land right in your waiting, open mouth, but all over your face. Mixing with your own tears and slobber.

You’re a complete mess…well. Not completely. Not as much as you can be-

When he lets go of your throat and pulls out of your bartered cunt you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s over, time to cuddle. You need the after care desperately-

Instead Neteyam walks on his knees until he’s crouching by your head. He’s working his hard cock furiously in his fist and there’s a look of determination in his eyes.

You’re as pretty as a picture. Your hair everywhere, long limbs akimbo. Your chest is heaving and you’re still fucking crying. Maybe next time you won’t push him to his limit.

When your face scrunches, brows bones raising cutely and nose all bunched up, he can feel his balls going taught- and then that little tongue peeks out again. Pleading for his release.

He paints your face white white his sticky viscus cum, and watches you shiver at being soiled. You’re limp on the floor of your shared tent- used and shaking.

You asked for this. He has to remind himself. You needed this.

He’s coming down from his high and starting to feel really fucking guilty at the state he’s left you in when he notices your thin tail wagging behind you.

You peer up at him, face covered him his cum and eyes exhausted and glassy…you manage to give him a devious smile.

Eywa, you’re such a brat.

Aaaaaand I’m out. Dom Neteyam isn’t really my cup of tea but I hope I did him justice lol

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x reader smut #aged up neteyam #smutty requests

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ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

Anonymous: Reader is in love with Miranda Priestly, and hasn't told her yet although the entirety of Runway has guessed. How would Miranda react if reader and her are stuck in an elevator together and reader ends up fainting in her arms?

I love it! I was inspired by the line Miranda says to Andy about smacking her little head on the pavement lol. Let’s get into it!

Your feelings for Miranda Priestly seem to be an open secret among the Runway staff. You… Don’t have a very good poker face. While Emily frantically scurrying behind Miranda as she rattles off daily tasks to the redhead has become a long-running joke in the office… You kind of just stare shamelessly at the Editor-in-Chief’s bottom whenever you follow her. People often quirk knowing eyebrows at their co-workers as they witness your apparent obsession with Miranda’s backside.

“Guess we know for sure that Y/N’s team ass,” An intern says to a group of her peers one morning, cracking them all up after you and Miranda walk by (And the editor is no longer within hearing distance).

It’s also not hard to pick up on the way you act like a total idiot around Miranda and trip over your words whenever she asks you a question. It’s a wonder she hasn’t gotten fed up with you and canned you yet.

Emily and Nigel just love to tease you too. “So, when are you planning to propose, Y/N? I’d like a heads up if you expect me to do a decent wedding spread for next month’s issue,” Nigel smirks as he leans against your desk.

You tilt your head in confusion at him as you try to work. “Uh… Propose?” You ask.

“Of course, Y/N. Don’t tell me you haven’t planned on asking Miranda to marry you,” He grins.

Your cheeks burn harshly at this. “Wh-what?!” You splutter.

Emily can’t help but join in. “Give them time, Nigel. They’ll have to fish out the ring from a box of cereal first,” She giggles.

The two laugh their asses off at this.

You huff and try to just get back to work. It’s not your fault that Miranda’s a literal goddess. How are you expected to not have a gay panic attack every second of the day when Miranda’s sitting no more than ten feet from your desk?

Today has been busy as hell. Well, more so than usual, at least. You’re currently on your way to pick up some crucial documents for Miranda when you suddenly find yourself tripping and colliding with the ground. Your face smashes harshly into the pavement and onlookers gasp at the severity of your fall. You black out for a second or two and feel yourself being pulled to your feet by a few people trying to help.

“You okay, kid? Hell of a fall…” One guy asks.

You shake your head to clear the stars from your vision before answering. “Honestly? Not really. That fucking… Sucked,” You manage to blurt out, making those around you chuckle sympathetically.

“I think you’d better get this checked out. Head injuries are no joke,” A woman standing beside you pipes up.

You feel a dull thud in your head, but the urgency of your tasks keeps you from agreeing. You turn and smile at her. “Wish I could, but I have to get back to work. Thanks for the help, though, everybody,” You tell the kind people who stopped to help you.

The little crowd that has gathered around you erupts in concerned murmurs, but they don’t know Miranda Priestly. Being late with Miranda’s paperwork is a much bigger threat to your health than a bump on the head.

As you navigate through the day, the dizziness and lightheadedness persist, making it challenging to concentrate. You also find yourself having to stay late with Miranda, assisting her with tasks long after everyone else has left the office. Just when you think for certain that your head is about to crack in two, Miranda miraculously decides that she is done for the night.

“That’s all, Y/N,” She says simply and waits for you to grab her coat and belongings for her.

You’re so distracted by your headache that you didn’t even hear her speak.

After you have made no attempt to move, Miranda’s head whips to you immediately. “Y/N. We’re leaving,” She snaps irritably. She hates repeating herself.

Your eyes widen and you hurriedly rush around to get her things and put her coat on her. You faithfully follow her to the elevator and she, surprisingly, allows you to get in with her instead of making you take another one.

The confined space of the elevator car amplifies the swirling sensations in your head. You bring a weary hand up to rub your eyes, trying to make yourself feel more alert.

Miranda looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve seemed rather off today, Y/N. Is something bothering you?”

You attempt to brush off her question. “I’m fine… Just… A head… Ache,” You mumble. Your voice is slurred and your eyes seem so blank.

Miranda’s eyebrows shoot up at this. She’s never seen you look like this. It alarms her greatly. You don’t sound well at all. Her piercing eyes study you intently. “I think you need to get some rest, Y/N. Maybe consider taking tomorrow off?” She suggests, her fondness for you overtaking her need to put up a tough front. She likes you… A lot. More than she would like to admit.

“I’m good,” You try to to assure her quietly. You’re too out of it to even process the unbelievable offer Miranda just made you. A fucking day off? Unheard of.

Miranda sighs as she looks at the state you’re in. She feels really guilty that she worked you so hard today. She should have let you go home ages ago. She just… Likes having you around. Even if you two aren’t directly interacting. You bring her a great sense of peace and calm. Truthfully, she didn’t even need you here tonight. She was just being selfish and wanted to keep you all to herself without other people barging in and… Oh, wait. That… Kind of sounds like a… Crush, doesn’t it? Is that why she enjoys your company so much? Miranda’s cheeks flame at this.

But, before Miranda can even begin to freak out about her silent revelation, the elevator jolts suddenly and you stumble, feeling weaker than before.

Miranda tries to steady you by gripping your arm, worry etching her usually composed features. “Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?”

But before you can respond, a wave of dizziness overtakes you and the world around you blurs. You feel yourself swaying, and the next thing you know, you’re enveloped in Miranda’s arms as unconsciousness claims you.

… Unfortunately, Miranda is a very petite woman and you… Kind of just end up flopping on top of her.

If only Emily and Nigel could see you now. Falling for the boss…

Note: This was so fun to write.

Masterlist

#miranda priestly #the devil wears prada #dwp #miranda priestly x reader #devil wears prada #emily charlton #nigel kipling #meryl streep #emily blunt #stanley tucci #miranda priestly x y/n #y/n is stupid

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seredelgi · 5 months

Text

Sweet Punishment- pt.2

fandom: Attack On Titan/ Shingeki No Kyojin

pairing: Dom!Levi Ackerman x Sub!Fem!Reader, Levi Ackerman x You

summary: After Eren gets entrusted to Levi, you have a hard time adjusting to his late shifts and his change of behavior. You miss his touch and you miss the sex, but you want to be a good girl for him, so you try your hardest to repress your urges, until he busts you.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: dom!levi, dom!levi, sub!reader, smut, sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don't try it at home lol), penetration, vulgar language, brief choking, degradation, dry humping (even though it's not very dry, if u know what i mean), praise kink, just a tiny bit, spit kink, I'm so sorry, but he turns me insane NO SPOILERS

word count: 3.5 k

a/n: ok so this was born bc I'm so not done with this man, and also I had a need to depict smut with him in that freaking white tee he's got on in s3 so yeah, enjoy.

Part 1

He’s been so stressed out lately. Things have changed a lot since Eren has turned out to be a Titan Shifter and has been entrusted to him. Levi comes back home so much later, so much more tired than he used to. You miss him like crazy, but you don’t wanna be a burden, too. He’s got so much in his mind, the last thing he needs is you acting like a baby and demanding more time from him.

This is what you get for being a soldier’s woman, after all. You knew this was part of it, you were already lucky enough to be with him regardless of his position. When you two met years ago he was cold, he was indifferent. It took months for him to admit that it was a facade, put up so that he wouldn’t get too attached. He ended up catching feelings anyway, and at that point, it was “better to keep you close and be able to protect you”- in his own words.

He likes his job. You know it and try to respect it, but you feel him slipping away recently, you feel him so distant and you really need him to make you feel loved. You miss his touch, his kisses, you miss being fucked. It’s been a while since you two last had sex, and being that the last time you tried to pleasure yourself you got taught a lesson, you were practically abstinent in every way. You spent endless days thinking about him, and you dreamed about sex practically every night.

But you can’t think to burden him with your flimsy desires when he’s got the fate of your people dawning down on his shoulders.

When he opens the door of the room that late evening he looks no different than he has in the last few weeks: cold, distant, absolutely worn out. He’s just got out of the shower, and he’s got that long-sleeved white t-shirt on that you love so much, but his black uniform trousers remind you that right now he doesn’t belong to you. You can see it in his eyes, two dark slits, probably still reliving the events of that day.

You’re on your bed, reading a new book as you wait for the oven alarm to go off. You’re starving, and by the looks of it, he is too.

He drags himself onto the bed, and you take a look at him while he takes hold of your book by the spine and closes it shut with one hand, putting it aside and crawling lazily on top of you, his face cradled in the curve of your neck, he huffs softly upon your skin.

It’s been a while since he’s dared to be this intimate with you, and even before that, he’s never allowed that to himself very often, always keeping everything inside, never asking for much. That’s what drove you to shut the hell up about your needs, you didn’t want him to think you’re weak.

You’re caught off guard by this sudden closeness, and you hum quietly into the silence that’s comfortingly surrounding you two right now. Your heart starts to pound a bit faster, but as he sweeps his hands underneath your shoulders to keep you closer you start to relax into his embrace. Who knows how long it’s gonna last, you better enjoy it.

You feel him breathe in your scent, and the kind of noise that he lets go after that takes your breath away and has your thighs squeeze together.

Keep it together, he’s just freaking tired.

“ You smell amazing” he purrs on your warm skin, sending shivers running down your spine as his fingers press ever so tenderly into your delicate flesh.

You chuckle nervously as you try not to focus on how low and husky his voice sounds right now, on how you can feel it reverberate from his chest through yours. He’s so warm, and that fucking white tee he’s got on is just too comfy not to feel the need to hold onto it desperately as you try to refrain from letting you get carried away with all of this.

“ You smell like you had to bark orders all day” you retort, keeping the conversation light even while you know the scent he’s emanating right now is enough to drive you wild.

“ Mhmm” he softly asserts, and his voice is so quiet that you think he’s probably dozing off, before you feel his delicate kiss pressing down on your shoulder, and you open your eyes wide.

It’s a chaste kiss, soft and gentle, and yet it gets your insides in a twirl to feel him press his lips on you while you’re wrapped against his body.

You hadn’t quite grasped how starved you were for him before realizing that one little kiss was enough to set your skin ablaze and have the cozy warmth in your lower abdomen starting to spread. It has never been that fast for you, never that immediate. You usually need some time to get in the right mood or some warming up to get ready. But right now you’re burning hot and desperate for him to keep touching and kissing you like that.

You can’t say that out loud tho, can’t be the whiny little girl that cries for attention as soon as she stops receiving it for a moment too long.

It doesn’t really matter tho, because just as his fingers press harder into your flesh he leaves another quiet kiss on it, and this time you can’t help but audibly moan, the sudden break of that cage of silence so unnerving that you bite your bottom lip, harshly dipping your teeth down on it as some sort of punishment for caving in so easily.

He pops his head up slowly, a kind of stunned expression painting his beautiful features. You feel your cheeks start to warm up underneath his scrutiny, his eyes finding yours big and full of lust.

“ You like this” he states.

You can’t tell if he’s amused by it. A few weeks prior you would’ve been sure that having you being ready for him so easily would’ve sent a proud spark glinting in his eyes, but right now his expression is as cold as it’s been all these past days spent longing for him, and you’re quite sure he must be kind of disappointed.

You shake your head no tentatively, wondering if you could ever look remotely believable as you find yourself hoping for.

His eyes narrow down on your features, on the crimson red of your cheeks, and your heavy breathing. Yeah, Levi might be tired, but he’s certainly not stupid.

He props up on his left hand anyway, letting his right one slowly slide underneath the sheer fabric of your sundress, along the length of your thigh, eliciting another soft whimper from you, and you feel so ashamed that you cover your mouth with your arm, your eyes languid with denial.

“ Then why you mewling like a cat in heat?” he sounds so stern that he almost feels displeased with you, and it kind of hurts to hear him talk to you like that.

Still, you feel the disconcerting need to be strong for him, to be good.

“ I’m just-” you pant, regaining focus, even though all that you really want is for his hand to travel further up your thigh “ a bit sensitive, must be the cycle”

You’re lying. You’re probably in the least fertile phase of it, but you can’t help it, you miss him too much, and having been forbidden to touch yourself, it’s been torture to resist the urges.

You doubt he’s bought it, yet his face is an inscrutable mask right now, and he looks down at you for a few more instants before he suddenly gets a hold of your wrists, pinning them down the mattress without much effort as you catch your breath.

He stares you down as if you were his prey, and honestly, too dizzy with arousal, too scared of letting him know the shameful truth of it, you’re less and less able to decipher his emotions, and somehow this only feeds your desire.

“ Spread your legs for me, then” he orders.

You hate to disobey him, but you’re too embarrassed of yourself to give him access to your sweet spot right now since you're sure he’s gonna find it already covered in your juices.

A glint of annoyance darkens his irises when you fail to comply. He huffs, his right knee slipping abruptly in between yours two, having you divaricating your legs wide within a few rough movements.

You muffle a protest, but it dies in your throat immediately as one of his hands lets go of your wrist and heads south, escaping underneath the skirt of your dress and reaching for your baby pink panties, feeling you out roughly through its fabric, finding it drenched.

“ Fuck-” his voice sounds hoarse from the shock of finding you like that already “ You’ve made a fucking mess”

You let out a quiet sob as you appraise his reaction, covering your eyes with the hand of yours he hasn’t gotten pinned down on the mattress anymore.

“ I’m sorry” you let out a shaky breath, unable to keep it all in any longer “ I’m sorry Levi, I just miss you so much”

You’ve held onto all that for weeks as he’s been burdening himself with who knows how much, and now it’s enough for him to touch you through your underwear to have you crumble like that. It’s kind of pathetic.

He stays quiet for a while, and you can only wonder what his face looks like as you keep your eyes shut against the back of your hand, not ready to see his harsh judgment of your weakness.

Then you feel his grip on your wrist loosen, and all his coldness and forcefulness melt into tender little kisses that he leaves down your neck as he reaches for your ear. He looks for your hand, sliding his fingers across the length of your arm and intertwining them with your own.

He uncovers your face to look at you, his expression still stern, but it doesn’t quite look like he’s judging you, more so than himself. You can see the cloud of guilt thundering in his eyes.

His lips are just a breath away from yours when he whispers down upon you:

“ Don’t cry” his tone is definitive, something like that, even if incredibly sweet, when said by him sounds like a precise instruction.

You sniff softly one last time before his lips press tenderly against yours.

He starts kissing you slowly, experimentally, giving you all the time you need to adjust from the previous harshness that he had addressed you to the sweetness that he’s promising you now. And even if reticent at first, you gradually start to melt against him, the feeling of his tongue slipping past your lips a welcomed revelation, one that you feel like saluting by filling his mouth with moans as he sets gently between your legs, his hardness aching against your core.

Gosh, you’ve missed this. You love the taste of him in your mouth so much that it’s almost exhilarating, the way he deepens the kiss at every little whimper you let out, the way your lips are glossy with his saliva when you part to catch your breath and ghost a little impulsive smile on his face.

You can’t help it now, you’re too high on the kiss he’s granted you, and you let your hips lounge up towards his, rutting softly against his erection, your fingers twisting in his locks, and you feel a blissful shiver cover you whole as he breaks the kiss to groan on your parted lips.

You want him so bad you feel like you’re losing control, and you love when he can’t help but be vocal about his arousal, so you’re compelled to continue grinding against him rhythmically, having him elicit all kinds of delicious noises on top of you as he kisses your lips with increasing passion.

Suddenly his right hand is at the base of your scalp, tugging harshly at your hair to have your head lean back enough to give himself better access to your exposed neck.

“ So fucking desperate ” he pants upon your skin “ how long have you been like this?”

“ Too long” you whine as you feel his lips tauntingly ghost above all the sensitive spots he knows so well, biting you tenderly at first, then starting to suck on your skin with euphoric compulsion. It’s the kind of sweet agony that has you sigh ecstatically and arch your back in response, the satisfaction of feeling his mark being imprinted upon you one that you find hard to rival.

When he’s done he leaves your neck pulsing in delight, and he starts grinding against you fiercely as his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“ Been waiting for me to set you free, huh?”

You nod faintly at that, eyes fluttering underneath the weight of your thriving desire, and you kiss his humid lips before looking for the zip of his black trousers, tired of having all those layers interpose between your sexes. You wanna feel his throbbing skin against your hole, wanna hear your juices mix as he rides you.

“ Such a good girl” he praises you, and that’s just too much.

As soon as his cock’s free of his boxers you press him down against you with a tug, his nakedness clashing down the wetness of your panties. He grunts, closing his eyes, reveling in the feeling of your drenched underwear starting to surround his hotness. The simple shift of pressure makes you roll your eyes, and he reaches for your jaw with his right hand to press his thumb on your lips, silently demanding access to your mouth. You open it up right away, and he slips inside, letting you suck on his finger once and then brushing your bottom lip downwards with it, keeping your mouth open beneath him.

“ Wider” he commands, and it’s so clear by the tone of his voice that he’s used to imparting orders, so confident in expecting them to be followed. And you sure as hell don’t wanna disappoint him.

So you open your mouth wider for him, sticking your tongue out as he continues riding you, your juices starting to soak your panties, creating enough lubrification for you to start getting extremely close to your relief.

“ My good girl” he hums quietly, and seeing him genuinely pleased with you puts your mind at ease. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you’d comply with anything he asks of you just so that he’ll utter those quiet little praises to you.

He spits in your mouth, and you’re honestly taken aback for a split second. You wouldn’t expect someone as composed as him to do something so raw just like that. But as soon as you feel the warm liquid on your tongue you’re quick to swallow what you manage, driven by your desire to make him proud. Some of it is still drooling down your bottom lip tho, and his eyes shimmer down on it, relishing in the sight of you, broken by the growing pleasure, completely at his mercy.

“ Fuck- You’re too hot like that” he breaths down upon you as he reaches between you two, looking for the spot where your panties are becoming so damn wet that you should probably feel embarrassed, but you’re way past that. Especially when you feel his erratic movements finally setting your pussy free, moving the fabric that was still covering it to the side just enough that you can feel the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, hot and covered in pre-cum.

“ Ah-” you cry as you feel him finally pushing against your hole, every nerve ending of yours waiting for him to pierce through you and finally take you.

He slides inside of you with a gentleness that almost kills you, and you can quite literally feel every inch of his length fill your soaked pussy up like you’ve been dreaming about for days. You wanna feel him pick up the pace and quite simply ruin your cunt for good, but all it takes is one thrust of his inside of you, a simple gentle rub of his pelvis against your clit to bring you over the edge.

You start shuddering frantically against him, gripping at his shirt and crying his name so loud that you’re sure the walls could be shaking from it. You kiss his neck through your high, needing to feel him hiss against your ear in response, to bask in his scent, and to feel the flex of his muscles against your hot lips.

“ What's th- fucking 'cumming already?” he lets out, his voice broken by the shock of your pre-empted release “ my God, you're pathetic"

You nod dully, rolling your eyes as little jolts of pleasure unleash throughout your whole body, having you spasming silently against his torso as he picks up the pace, driven mad by the unexpected hunger that your orgasm has unleashed within him.

He’s thrusting so deep inside of you that you feel like he could break you in half, and yet you can’t stop moaning, can’t stop telling him how damn good he’s making you feel.

“ You’re so good at taking it-fuck” he resumes kissing your neck and biting you hard, leaving you sore and aching for more “ you’re made for this, made for me”

The idea has you rejoice, a proud kind of sentiment starting to engulf you as he smacks harder against your cervix, hitting that spot that has you babbling incoherently underneath his weight.

All that you’re feeling is thanks to your patience, you’ve been good and waited for him, and you’d do it for years if it meant being fucked like this was the prize.

You can’t help but nod, your head bobbing up and down under the heel of the merciless pace he’s been keeping up so steadily. You can practically feel every ounce of the frustration he’s held within him in the past few days being reversed in each thrust of his, in every grunt and spasm of his muscles as he pounds into you, and you’re so glad to be the one he vents upon.

You can feel him getting closer. He’s frantic, panting down on you, shoving inside of you with such force that you can’t even think straight anymore, the feeling of your aching pussy squeezing his cock inside of you the only thing you can focus on.

He rises above you to be able to get a hold of your neck, tightening his hand around your throat to make you look at him. You can’t think about what you may look like right now as you stare back into those dark grey irises you love so much. It’s too fucking embarrassing what this man is capable of reducing you to.

“ I’m gonna ‘cum inside of you”

It’s not a warning, it’s a statement.

You shift your weight back slightly to be able to open your legs wider as a reflex, eager to feel him finally releasing into you, but he grips your hips and dips his fingers harder into you, almost bruising your skin in the act.

“ Don’t- fuck, don’t move” he demands.

You don’t need to be told twice, so you stay put, looking up at him and contemplating the sight.

You love seeing him like this, sweaty and broken by pleasure, strands of soft raven hair cascading down his forehead, his shirt revealing just the faintest little hint of his muscles flexing underneath its clean fabric.

But his eyes are what you love the most, the kind of glare that can go from pure sweetness to downright threatening in a matter of seconds. Dark and dangerous.

You see them faltering before you hear his groans swamp the room and his warm seed spring into you, filling you up like you’ve longed so bad for these past few weeks, finally getting the love you were so badly burning for.

He crushes down upon you, a sudden need to feel you as close as possible, to have you press your usual gentle kisses across his face, on his lips, all while he holds you close and slowly regains his breath and usual composure.

When he slips out of you you feel your legs shake a little and you know you’ll need a full night of rest to recover from what he’s done to you, but it doesn’t really matter, ‘cause it was worth it.

He collapses aside from you, taking hold of your wrist and tugging you along to rest on top of him without saying a word. You chuckle faintly against his neck, not able to resist relishing this intimate feeling. You’ve finally got him all for yourself.

Until you hear the oven alarm go off.

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fleshbarbie · 2 years

Text

late night talks - billy hargrove x reader.

a/n: in this i refer to the reader having a younger brother, i didn’t name him so it’s completely your choice as to who he is. he can be one of the stranger things kids (the only one i cant see him being is will because will is a sweetheart and i cant see him acting like this), or he can be just some random kid. enjoy!

you twirled your hair around your finger, a bored huff forcing a gush of air to blow at the few loose strands of hair that had fallen from the front of your tightened ponytail. you had been sat outside, on your doorstep for what felt like hours now (but in reality it had only been close to one hour) the cold concrete had caused a few shivers to travel up your spine and the light breeze of wind every now and then didn’t help but you didn’t want to move.

yourself and your boyfriend billy had a date night planned, you usually made sure to squeeze at least one in a week, preferably at the weekend but if needed an after school date was never really an issue. it was nearing eight o’clock on a friday night and billy had told you he was going to be picking you at seven when he had dropped you home after school, with a kiss and a promise that he wouldn’t be late. yet here you were, getting a few nosy glances from the neighbours that attended to their gardens as they took note of how long you had been stuck in the same spot. but you didn’t let it get to you.

the door that belonged to your house creaked open behind you, “(y/n), the phone for you. it’s billy.”

you didn’t miss the disapproving tone in the voice that belonged to your beloved younger brother, who was stood with a hand on his hip and a judgemental look in his eye. you just rolled your eyes at the tone, knowing he hadn’t approved of your relationship with hawkin’s self proclaimed bad boy since day one but he didn’t know billy the way you did. nobody did.

you didn’t bother to give your brother any kind of response, only lightly pushing past him to enter your home. the warm air engulfed you in a cozy hug the moment you got through the doorway and your body relaxed in satisfaction, delighted by the newfound heat. you quickly made your way into the kitchen where the phone was placed face-down on the counter.

“hey billy, where are you?” you questioned your boyfriend, the finger that was previously twirling at your hair now twirling around the phone cord instead.

“hey gorgeous, um...” you instantly picked up on how quietly billy was talking through the phone, almost whispering as if not to disturb anyone and your stomach dropped the second you understood why. “i’m really sorry but i don’t think i’m gonna make it tonight.”

of course you were sad to find out you would no longer be spending the evening with the boy who had stolen your heart within weeks of moving to the small town you had lived in since birth, but one feeling overpowered that and it was fear.

“that’s okay, don’t worry about it baby. is everything okay?” you questioned, now nervously chewing at your bottom lip, surely leaving some of the pink lipgloss you had applied earlier to stain your teeth but that was far from your biggest concern right now.

“yeah ... well no but.” he sighed, and you heard some movement echoing through the landline before he spoke again. “i can’t really talk about it right now but i promise i’m okay. nothing to worry your pretty little head about okay?”

you weren’t entirely convinced, but there wasn’t much you could do in this situation. storming over to billy’s house to find out what really went down would only cause more trouble for him and you knew he’d be the one to suffer the consequences, not you. so all you could do was nod and hope it wasn’t as bad as your mind was making it out to be.

“okay. but please, if gets any worse don’t suffer in silence. i’m always here for you, i’ll leave my window open for you tonight, okay? just in case.”

five miles away from where you were currently stood, billy hargrove’s heart swelled triple in size in his chest. he had never had anyone that cared for him the way you did, aside from his mother but he still held a whole lot of resentment towards her after she left him with his poor excuse of a father. everyday he feared you were gonna wake up one day and realize just what a piece of shit he was, come to your senses and tell him you were leaving him and that was that. but it had been near eight months now and you were both going strong.

“thank you sweet girl, i’m sorry for standing you up.” he frowned at the thought of you stood at the front door in a pretty outfit and a pretty smile, all gone to waste. “tomorrow night okay? we’ll go out tomorrow.”

“don’t worry about that right now, just look after yourself please billy.” you near enough pleaded through the phone, to which he responded to with a light chuckle but he eventually promised he would.

“look i gotta go, he’s been pacing around outside for a few minutes now he’s bound to come back in any second and if he sees me adding to the phone bill, i’ll be on for a round two. i love you, okay? i’ll make this up to you.”

your heart clenched, you swore you could feel actual pain in your heart at the hell your boyfriend lived through everyday from the one person who was supposed to provide him love and comfort.

“okay billy. i love you too, so much. don’t forget that okay? i’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

the two of you exchanged a few goodbyes, neither of you actually wanting to hang up the phone knowing that once you did the comfort of having the other person with you was gone, even if you weren’t technically in each others presence, hearing each others voice was almost as good. you let out a heavy sigh, your back resting against the wall as you closed your eyes and attempted to clear your head before it went on overdrive with a hundred different ideas of what was going on at the hargrove residence.

“he stood you up didn’t he?” the familiar voice of your brother broke the tension, a smirk present on his face as if he wanted to blurt out a proud ‘i told you so’.

you glared at him, yet again infuriated by the presence of your younger sibling who always thrived in your misery.

“it’s not like that dipshit, he’s dealing with stuff.” you crossed your arms, awaiting whatever bullshit came out of his mouth next.

“yeah, stuff meaning another girl. it’s so obvious.” he scoffed, and you rolled your eyes at the ignorant comment.

of course that’s what he’d think, that’s what everyone thought about billy. the only way you could prove him wrong was if you told him what was actually going on, but it wasn’t your personal life to share with whomever you felt necessary. you could never do that to billy, not only was it an incredible violation of his trust but you also knew billy would most likely want nothing to do with you if he found out you’d spilled his darkest secret.

so instead you bit your tongue, but sent another extra mean glare towards your brother before your turned on your heel deciding to retreat to your room for the night before nasty words were exchanged.

—

it was now just past midnight, and you were nice and cozy in bed with the book you were almost finished with and an almost cold hot chocolate sat on your bedside table. the only light in the room was the one coming from your lamp beside you, the rest of your room was enveloped in a darkness that you could only see through if you really focused.

you never minded the dark when you had a distraction from it, your book being the perfect one right now. you only had a couple chapters left and you were done, which was almost as heartbreaking as it was satisfying. luckily you had a few other books stacked up on your desk that you hadn’t read yet so it’s not as if you were at risk of lacking any entertainment when you finished this one.

just as you turned the page to the next chapter, you heard a clanging noise echo into your room almost as if something had clashed against the window. you jumped at the sudden break of silence, but it only took a second to understand what the noise was, or rather who it was coming from. you sat up right in bed, preparing yourself from the worst as your muscled boyfriend climbed through your window and landed on your carpeted floor with a light thud.

you didn’t know whether to cry or breath a sigh of relief when you saw his face and noticed he got away lucky this time, only a discoloured bruise sat on his cheekbone. it saddened you that you counted that as a win, that it was such a norm now to see billy walk around with cuts and bruises. but you decided not to dwell on the darkness of it all, not when you had billy right in front of you and right now he looked as if the only thing he wanted was some comfort.

“hey baby, come here.” opening your arms was all it took for billy to quickly kick off his heavy boots, his denim jacket quickly joined the boots on the floor and he was all but diving into your bed with his head resting on your stomach.

the book had been knocked onto the floor, the page you were about to read lost as the book closed but you were more focused on the broken boy laid on top on of you. you began running your fingers through his golden curls, using your nails to lightly scrape at his scalp, something you knew always calmed him.

it wasn’t long before his tense body caved in and relaxed at your comforting touch, his arms moving to give your body a tight yet gentle squeeze, his way of thanking you. no words were exchanged whilst you continued to play with his hair and massage his scalp, for the next ten minutes all that could be heard was the light breathing shared between you both and the occasional hum of approval that slipped past billy’s content smile.

he eventually moved, sitting up so he was now sat on his knees facing you with a vulnerable look in his beautiful blue eyes.

“he found out about our date, said i was wasting my time getting all dressed up like some pansy because i was on babysitting duty tonight.” he shook his head at the memory, and you were quick to lean forward and grab his hand between both of yours. “i tried telling him we had this planned for awhile, that it wasn’t something i could just cancel but he didn’t care. he just started screaming at me for talking back, called me disrespectful, said i didn’t appreciate all that he did for me and then he gave me a backhand to the face.”

he gestured to the dark bruise on his face, and you sighed giving his hand an extra squeeze. neil hargrove was a complete asshole, it was a shame he hadn’t fallen victim to one of the creatures that had escaped from the upside down last year.

“susan tried telling me he didn’t mean it, he was already pissed off from work and it had him getting mad at everything but-“

“that’s no excuse to go around hitting your son.” you finished for him, not entirely sure that was where he was going but it needed to be said.

he nodded in agreement, but didn’t say anything else.

“billy that man is a sad excuse for a father, the way he treats you everyday is disgusting i don’t know what could possess any person to hurt their own child the way he hurts you. it’s evil ... i don’t think you understand how incredibly strong you are for putting up with this your whole life.”

you moved, inching towards billy with a light grip on his shoulder and your other hand moving to caress his cheek being mindful of the new injury. “not many people would be able to live the life you live without crumbling under it all, i love you so much and i am endlessly proud of you for dealing with his shit without blowing up and doing something you can’t undo.”

billy finally held eye contact with you, his own glossy with unshed tears that only took one last blink for them to come rushing down his tanned face. you wiped away the streams, gripping the back of the californian boy’s neck to pull him towards you so you could place a gentle kiss against the now wet skin.

“what did i do to deserve you?” his deep voice reached your ears and you rolled your eyes playfully at the question.

“absolutely nothing hargrove.” you smiled, the same expression reflecting on billy’s features. “absolutely nothing.”

his hands that had been by his side throughout the whole interaction now rested on either side of your face and he slowly pulled you into a passionate kiss, his soft lips clashing with your own to give you the most love filled kiss he had ever given you. it almost brought you to tears of your own, feeling the deep intimacy in the act of affection that billy once was scared to show you, before you had broken down the walls the boy had built around himself over the years of neglect and abandonment.

the burn from lack of oxygen had you reluctantly breaking the kiss, one you had wished you could enjoy for two hours straight. a loving smile was present on your swollen lips, “sleep?”

billy smiled back and nodded, his eyes never leaving your own. “sleep.”

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery x reader

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writersmilex · 1 year

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My Only Friend

Anonymous asked: hi smilex nice to see you again, can i ask a scenario where hank and reader knew each other before hank became well... a murderer? basically reader was hank's only friend and they were very close, over time hank begins to have a crush on reader but he couldn't confess until the fateful day came with the boombox accident and from there they parted ways but after years they meet again

___ Nice to See you too... ‘I don’t know who you are’ Here is the request, Tumblr is always screwing me over one way or other and now I can’t respond to my asks. Here it is!

___

Hank Wimbleton X Fem | Reader

Summary: Just before the crimson skies, Hank had a friend. You were the only friend he had at the time. _____________________________________

(Art Belongs to Rightful Owner)

"It sounds like fun, you should try it." Your eyes gleam with intrigue as you point at the flyer for a volleyball tournament. Hank crosses his arms and huffs in annoyance. "I don't want to." He growls, by this time Hank's crappy moods hardly threaten you. "You want more friends, right?" You reason with the stoic man beside you. He doesn't answer and looks away from you. Yeah... He does want more friends, but he just doesn't know how. He has an intimidating stature, and stoic expression acts rather aggressively at times and making friends difficult for someone like him.

"Tell you what, we go together." You say, taking a pen from a string to write your name neatly on the flyer. "(Y/n)..." Hank tries to reason, but he knows there is no point in reasoning with you. "Fine..." He agrees and takes the pen from you to write down his own name, right under yours. You look at Hank and beam at him, the brightest gaze he has ever seen, it could blind him if your face produced light like that. "Awesome!" You laugh with glee, Hank just huffs in annoyance once again. "Whatever..." He grumbles. He feels you tug on his arm. "I'm thirsty, come on let's get a drink." You're not strong enough to pull Hank out of balance, but that will change soon as you have been working out lately. Hank follows along with everything you want to do. He has nothing better to do anyway. And you're always so hyper and like to do things that end up being very fun for him always. Even though he will never admit it out loud, he doesn't have to because you always seem to be ideally in tune with his mood every time. ~~~~ The volleyball tournament was indeed fun, doesn't matter if you were good at it or not. You personally thought you did well. You noticed Hank acting a little looser after the games, he had fun as well. If you squint you can see him smiling slightly. "See? What did I tell you?" You ask playfully, patting your friend on his arm. Hank lets out a low chuckle, "It was alright..." He replies that means he had fun. His response only makes you gleam brighter. You cheer with a little jump, "See? I knew it would be fun!" You skip alongside your stoic friend. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, as he slanders along with whatever you want to do. You're the best at finding fun things to do in his opinion. ~~~~ Hank started to feel strange around you for reasons that are still unclear to him. Seeing you happy made him happy, he did everything just to please you, he'd even do murder for you if you asked. Anything... Anything to make you happy. That smile of yours makes his day brighter. As far as he knows his life is very mediocre, and you make it better. He wants to see you every day to bring colour to his grey world. There is a place, Hank's favourite place in the park where he can find some peace. By the tree, it is a very serene place for him, ever since he was little he went there to be alone, as none of the other kids wanted to play with him back then. He didn't have friends back then, but now he has! He has you! His best friend and his only friend. He almost feels protective of you, and you don't have any enemies whatsoever! Perhaps some people find your bright and bubbly nature annoying, but that's normal he assumes. You can't get everyone on earth to like and respect you, no matter what you do. But he likes you but isn't really sure how he could show you that. So, he's going to show you his favourite place. "Are we there yet?" You ask for the fifth time. "We're really almost there," Hank repeats for the fifth time. You don't reply this time, merely holding your own hands behind your back as you trail behind Hank. You're usually the one with the plans for fun activities, and how he's the one with an idea and you don't want to ruin this for him. So you'll go with everything he wants now, just to make your friend happy. "This is a really nice place though, very tranquil." Your comment on the grassy fields of the park, There are not as many trees around as he remembered from when he was little, but his favourite tree is still the in the same place as it should be. "The quietness helps me think," Hank explains as he comes to a stop by the tree. "I can imagine that," you reply and keep looking around the fields. The park is rather crowded today, many people around and you saw one guy in the distance walking around with a boombox. "I like to just stand here and enjoy the silence... If I can..." Hank explains as he takes a stance, crossing his arms. He gives the random guy with the boombox a side glare. Hank never like that genre of music anyway, not to mention that it's rather distressing, such loud music in a place that's supposed to be peaceful. "I'm really thirsty, I'm getting a drink by the bakery. Do you want anything?" You ask your friend as you point in the general direction to the bakery that is right outside of the park's fields. "Just a soda." Hank requests with a dismissive wave of the hand. You nod and smile at your friend and skip off to get drinks. ~~~~ Hank waits for you to return, feeling a little tense at the loud music getting closer to him. The boombox guy is really getting on his nerves by now. Destroying his zen moment with that obnoxious music. It's clear that the boombox guy is not stopping on his own, so Hank has to do something about it himself. He walks around the tree and approaches the guy, "Hey, could you turn it down?" He asks as politely as he could. But instead is met with a rough push that causes him to stumble and lose his balance, falling on the grass. "This is a public place, I can do what I want!" The guy says matter-of-factly. Now Hank is angered enough to get physical with this guy, and he does. It was madness that day... ~~~~ Hank hasn't seen you since that fateful day with the boombox, it feels like he lost a piece of himself, which he might as well has. Nothing has been the same since that day... a day he curses still. The crimson sky doesn't change how he is feeling, as he looks over a war-torn city with very little left from the rooftop of the building where he and his comrades have taken shelter, a light breeze brushes by. But a part of him also wishes he never sees you again, you might think he's a monster. And he would agree with you if you did think that. His only friend that has been missing for what feels like years. He has kept you a secret from his comrades in the force, even Doc is not aware of your existence. Your memory is only his to cherish closely to what the last pinch of innocence remains in the endless void that he calls a heart. He still misses you so dearly, even when he can hardly remember your face. He is really conflicted about what he is feeling: He wants you back, but he doesn't. If he could meet you now, everything would change again. What if you weren't even alive? That thought saddens him. If you were out there somewhere, he hopes that you can survive. And meet him again one day. _____________________________________

There, I hope this is something that you want. It's very light-hearted, but it feels kind of bland, to be honest.

Anyway, there is nothing else much I think I could add to this.

Thanks for reading.❤️

- Smilex🙂

#madness combat #madness combat x reader #madness combat reader insert #x reader #reader #imagines #hank j. wimbleton #madcom hank #requested

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password-door-lock · 10 months

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The third consecutive time that you call him, Saeran decides to cut his losses and pick up. It goes without saying that he’s in a shitty mood about it— who do you think you are to bother him like this, and why did he have to inherit such an annoying toy in the first place? Can’t you follow the instructions that he gave you? He shouldn’t have to tell you multiple times to just stay in your room and wait. But then again, of course you would be troublesome. If Ray liked you, and if you actually liked him back, then it probably follows that you’d be a little strange-- though that’s no excuse for interrupting his work. “When did I tell you that you were allowed to bother me while I’m working?” He snarls.

“Hey,” you greet him, as if you didn’t hear the question he just asked. Unbelievable. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?”

“Why are you asking something like that?” Saeran demands, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to get rid of me by boring me to death.”

“The opposite,” you assure him, “Like, I see what you mean about this place being boring— as you know, you just left me here to sit around, and as instructed, I’ve been brainstorming ways that I can entertain you, and I decided to call, since I thought you could use a break.”

So you finally want to be useful? Still, Saeran’s expectations for you aren’t very high. Just because you claim that you want to entertain him doesn’t mean you’ll actually try to do it, let alone succeed. “Then why are you wasting time by telling me good morning?”

“Because that’s a thing that people say to each other when they talk on the phone before noon,” you explain, “And sometimes after noon when they don’t realize that it’s not morning anymore, and they say ‘good morning,’ and the other person says, ‘it’s two thirty,’ and the first person is like, ‘oh shit I’ve been reading fic for how long?’ Et cetera.” He doesn’t bother asking you what you’re talking about— if he did that every time you said something ridiculous, Saeran would never get anything else done.

“And now you’re wasting time by telling me why you’re telling me good morning?” He huffs, incredulous. “Do I have to give you a step-by-step guide for how to have a conversation, or is even that too difficult for you?”

“You asked,” you protest, still sounding for all the world like this is the best day of your life. What reason do you have to be so chipper? “You wanted to know why I said good morning, so I explained why I said good morning. I am following your instructions to a T, sir.”

“Prince(ss),” Saeran warns. He really does not have time for this conversation, and he doesn’t have time to interrogate the joy in your voice. You’re supposed to be miserable, so why do you sound so excited to be talking to him? “Stop blabbering and start trying to find a way to entertain me. That’s why you called in the first place, isn’t it? So you should go ahead and try it before I really lose my patience.” He doesn’t want to hear any more of your cheerful voice. It doesn’t belong in a place like Magenta, anyway.

“What patience?” You ask, sounding proud of yourself for thinking of the one-liner. Before Saeran can admonish you for mocking him, suddenly you’re talking again: “But, whatever, you want me to entertain you, so I’ll entertain you. I just have a couple of questions before we start— okay, first of all, how familiar would you say you are with dad jokes? Like, where are you on a scale of one to ten?”

Saeran doesn’t have the slightest idea what you mean by that. He assumes it’s just some silly thing that weaklings like you like to waste time thinking about, and decides not to engage with your weird question. “I thought I told you to stop spouting nonsense,” he growls. “Do I have to talk slower so that you can understand? If you know what’s good for you and you’re able to comprehend what I’m saying, you’ll cut the act now, prince(ss).”

“Mhm, okay,” you reply, which is not necessarily an answer to his question. “What did the blanket say when it fell off the bed?”

By this point, Saeran is fuming. You called him while he was working and strung him along with that whole good morning song and dance just to ask him about a blanket? “I said entertain me, not ask stupid questions!”

“It said, ‘Oh sheet!’” You cackle.

Saeran smirks, though the so-called “joke” was not remotely funny. He’s more amused by how much you’re laughing about it— seriously, is that all it takes for you to go to pieces? What an airhead.“You must be intentionally trying to piss me off,” he decides.

“I’m trying to make you laugh,” you pout. It seems you’re always trying to make him laugh, but Saeran doesn’t understand why. Is it that hard for you to just act how he wants and be scared of him? That would be much less of a hassle for everyone involved. You were willing to listen when Ray told you to get into a strange vehicle and put on a blindfold, but suddenly you’ve forgotten how to follow instructions? What kind of messed-up logic is that? “Okay, okay, I’ve got a better one. What’s black and white and red all over?”

Are you just going to sit around asking stupid questions all day? “What are you—”

“The RFA messenger!” You giggle. You even have the audacity to cut him off. “Get it? Get it? Because the app display is black and white, but you’ve read all the messages, so it’s read all over.” Oh. Read, not red.

Saeran can’t help but laugh a little at that— he couldn’t care less about the word play, but at least you seem to understand the extent of his control over the messenger. “Yes,” he confirms, “I’ve seen everything you’ve said there, so you should watch it when you’re typing to your friends.” But, then, if you’re able to understand the situation, why are you still so full of hope?

“Oh my god,” you breathe with exaggerated surprise, “Did the great hacker of Magenta just… laugh at my joke? I feel so accomplished! Let me tell you, man, there’s so much more where that came from. Feel free to call me whenever you need to cheer up; I’ll be here, sitting around and thinking of jokes.” What the hell are you talking about? You must think you can manipulate him by catching him off guard or something.

“Don’t get too full of yourself, toy,” Saeran spits in a vain attempt to ruin your mood. What gives you the right to be so happy-go-lucky when you’re locked up in the toy room, rotting with your thoughts? “I’ll come see you soon to remind you of your place.” He leaves you with that, hangs up, and turns off his notifications. He won’t allow you to bother him while he’s working again— but it goes without saying that he’ll be thinking about ways to bother you.

#Fun fact about the black white and red/read all over riddle it's pretty much untranslateable #However once I thought of what's black white and read all over/ the RFA messenger I could not get it out of my head #And realistically if I were MC in this situation I would be throwing everything at the wall trying to make this man laugh #mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble #choi saeran

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ningningsplushie · 2 years

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☆.｡.:*𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑵𝒐 𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 - 𝑲𝑻𝑯.｡.:*☆

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Taehyung x Reader

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: All your life you’ve been sick with a weak heart but through it all is your loving boyfriend Taehyung. He reminds you why you love him after a scary surgery and he takes care of you and babies you relentless

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3,070

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Reader had heart problems so that’s what the surgery was for, mentions of death but NO ONE dies, hospital talk and such, pretty angsty tbh but don’t worry also very fluffy and a happy happy ending!! Probably some medical inconsistencies, I’m very sorry

𝒂/𝒏: EEEEEE this was a request and I really hope you guys like it!!! If you want a request please submit some! I take fluff and angst, NO SMUT and I’ll do drabbles, headcanons, and OT7 reactions!

You never one to take things for granted. For you, what mattered were the small things in life, the almost forgettable moments but once collected enough in the mason jar sitting within your brain, they were little personal belongings that meant everything to you. Instances such as leaning lazily upon your significant other in the morning, sleep and crust still coating your eyes while you both were doing a poor job in brushing your teeth, or buying the strawberry danish that you looked forward to each friday, after your shift at work to end the tiring week with something sweet, or perhaps even just riding the train to classes, listening to whatever new album your favourite artist had released.

You kept all those things close in the confines of your heart as that’s what kept you going, but you realised at the very second you exited the hospital that you would treasure these things even more, if possible, all because just two days ago, you thought you weren’t going to live to see them again the next day.

You were born with a weak heart and as a child it was hard to maintain health due to you being like every other kid; rowdy, curious, and an adventurer. This all took a strain to your heart but it only grew worse as you aged. Everyday you lived in fear of whether or not your heart would give up on you, a scary thought when your anxiety was rooted in abandoning your boyfriend, Taehyung, in death.

“Tete,” You huff. “You really don’t have to push me around in the wheelchair. I can walk on my own just fine.”

Taehyung halts abruptly, a deep sigh escaping from his lips. You turn your head to look at him, one hand on his hip, hiding underneath his oversized blazer, the other pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes squinted. “Jesus y/n, you just got out of surgery two days ago. Your chest was wide open, alright? Just cuz your surgery was successful doesn’t mean you have to act like an olympian athlete.”

You pouted, downcasting your eyes to your hands folded over your lap. “Yeah but…I don’t wanna be…” You trailed off, not wanting to finish your sentence.

“Uh uh, none of that, I know exactly where your mind is going.” He scolds, pushing you once more out the doors of the hospital. “You never were and you’re never going to be a burden. It’s my duty and honour,” he expressed dramatically in a haughty accent, “as your loving and exceedingly handsome boyfriend to take care of you.”

You couldn’t help but cackle, a loud breathy laugh came from your throat as you tilted your head back. “What a dork,” you snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, but you love my dorkiness.” You do. “And besides,” He reaches over your shoulder, grabbing your cheek. “I wuv taking care of my widdol babyyyy.” He sing-songs in a honeyed voice.

“Teteeeeee,” you whine, swatting his hand away.

He rubs the skin of your cheek before leaning down to press a kiss to the reddened spot and you smell his tart and spicy cologne. His lips trail over the shell of your ear, his black permed hair tickling your forehead whilst it also hides the loving relief of his eyes. “Let’s finally get you home, darling.”

You sit propped in Taehyung’s bed, a mountain of pillows behind you and a blanket wrapped around your legs and waist. You hear your stomach gurgle, a long uninterrupted sound. As if he’s read your mind, Taehyung prances into the room, a cloth draped over his arm like a waiter. Upon closer inspection, you realise he’s drawn a French-style moustache over his upper lip in what you hope wasn’t sharpie. You have to stop yourself from laughing at the image of Taehyung leaning over his bathroom counter so he could draw his moustache with intense focus. He stops beside your lounging figure and hands you a piece of paper.

“And what would the mademoiselle like?” He inquires in a fancy accent, standing straight in a cartoonish pose of a waiter.

“What’s this?”

“Your menu, mademoiselle.” He’s trying not to break character and you can tell by the way he pinches his lips together, his neck growing red, and the way his forehead wrinkles inwards.

You decide to give in to his shenanigans. “Ahhhhh, I see. And what would you recommend?”

“EvERy-” His voice cracks and he coughs into his fist and you catch the way his shoulders shake in a silent laugh. “Hmmmm, my apologies. Everything. Every item on the menu was curated just for Mademoiselle.”

“Oh? I sure do feel lucky.”

“As you should be. The chef is…quite smitten with Mademoiselle and hopes to impress her.”

“Consider me impressed. I’ll have the macaroni and cheese with garlic bread, please. And a glass of strawberry juice, if you could.”

In a final flourish, Taehyung bows dramatically. “Of course. Your food will be ready in twenty minutes. Please rest until then.”

As he’s about to leave, you call his name. Your boyfriend’s that is, not the waiter. “And Taehyung? Don’t overcook the noodles again.”

You really thought he was going to stay in character but he proves you wrong. His shoulders slump in defeat and embarrassment and he hangs his head backwards, beginning to whine. “y/nnnnnn, that was just once! God, have some more faith in my exquisite culinary skills.”

With his ridiculous antics just now and his adorable complaining you finally let loose your laughter. It’s raucous and inconsistent with you taking deep breaths in between but to Taehyung, it’s music to his ears and he hopes to hear it every single day for the rest of his life.

“Don’t worry, darling. You get the Tete special so it’ll be extra yummy.” He leaves with a wink and you swoon just the way you did the first time you met him.

For a while you browse through your phone, bored and hungry whilst waiting for your food. But after ten minutes, becoming restless from scrolling, you turn it off and just lay with your eyes closed. Nо matter what Taehyung was doing, he always did it with music. Getting ready in the morning, driving to the Hybe building, cleaning the house, whatever. Silence was rare.

Right now he’s listening to Billie Holiday’s There is No Greater Love. You could hear the various clunks of pots, the sink’s running water, and the rusting of boxes and bags, indicating his ingenious cooking prowess.

There is no greater love than what I feel for you. No greater love, no heart so true.

He’s humming along to the song at first, a low and elegant song that reminds you of those nights where you had laid in pain, writhing, gripping your chest and all Taehyung could do was inject a low dose of morphine provided by the hospital for times like that. When your pain had subsided he would stroke and pat your hair as he hummed songs into your ear with tears brimming his eyes to lull you into a drug-induced sleep.

You sigh wearily, wanting to forget that awful pain, the worst thoughts running through your head, thinking that at any moment, you would pass in your sleep and Tae would wake up without you.

Taehyung’s present tinkering in the kitchen rips you away from these worries. Your boyfriend now sings, a timber baritone that would make for a lovely jazz singer, like the very ones he so idolizes.

You’re the sweetest thing I have ever known. And to think that you are mine alone.

His singing spurs you on even more and you watch out the window to somehow calm your mind. You see the sun, full and bright, casting its warm hug on your face despite the chilly autumn months. You see a few birds taking flight, no doubt somewhere south, somewhere much warmer, perhaps back to their little homes. You hear children yelling and cheering from the park across the street, and you’re happy that they get to be free, hopefully healthy, or at least healthier than you were.

You admire such simple yet gorgeous things, the tiny bits of life that shine individual colours of stained glass onto the world that creates life for what it is. All this creates hope, not just for you, but for other people as well, or at least you like to think so. But if all this was so dear to you, if it’s what kept you sane throughout years of physical, mental, and emotional pain, then why are tears streaming down your face in succession so fast, the saltiness of them make you even hungrier and thirstier. Actual, literal hunger, yes, but also hunger to know what peace of mind feels like.

You cry and think some more and a revelation dawns on you. You cry because you were frightened of losing everything. Your family, your stressful yet exciting job, the anticipation for tomorrow, and most importantly, Taehyung.

You would describe him like your rock, solid and never moving no matter what, no matter the circumstances, but a ship, or a small raft was more fitting. He kept you afloat through everything, and when you couldn’t move yourself any longer and couldn’t escape the impending storm, he kept you safe in his arms, in his hold. When there was no wind for your sails to keep you going, he made sure that you and him screamed, into the void or at whatever creator who made the blessed earth and sky but cursed you, so that the gust of air from your lungs would finally push you along.

Prone to over thinking, you thought you were to leave him behind, maybe suddenly in the middle of the day, on a normal evening on a date, in the middle of the night. You thought you were to see him one final time when the doctors wheeled you away into the operating room. That he would wait hours upon hours in the waiting room, filled with coffee and no sleep, hyped up on anxiety and worry, only to get news that the surgery was unsuccessful.

But you were wrong, and for once, you were happy you were wrong. You had never been more grateful for life and for living than you are now, alive, post-surgery, no longer having to be hooked up on machines and depending on medicine.

Staring out the window, you cry some more but you’re also smiling, knowing for a fact that you look insane. But you don’t care. You’re so happy to be alive that you’re overwhelmed with every emotion.

You’re interrupted when Taehyung walks through the door, the food resting neatly on a tray. With his low voice once more, he sings out, “Order for y/nnn! Hope it’s-” He stops when he sees your emotional state and hurries to place the tray on the bedside table.

He sits on the bottom of the bed, immediately and without any hesitation whatsoever, scooping you into his arms. He cradles your entire body, one arm around the back of your neck to press your face into his neck as he rocks you back and forth. The position is intimate, every inch of your body touching and entwining despite the two of you being fully clothed. It’s intimate because he presses his forehead to yours as if he could read your thoughts. It’s intimate because your hearts are connected, separated only by skin and tissue, almost like he could share your emotions. It’s intimate because your arms and legs are mixed together and you could feel the shared thrums of your pulses, an unspoken vow of being together in mind and in body. It’s intimate because you find out he’s joined you in crying, your tears mixing with his, your pain becoming his. You are him, and he is you, and together you have become one.

He holds you like this while your sobs reach a crescendo, a loud wail at one point but slows and simmers down into broken whines, and finally ragged and laboured breathing.

Taehyung pulls himself apart from you and cups your face with both hands and they fully envelop you. “Are you in pain, does anything hurt?”

You shake your head.

“Why were you crying then, darling?” he asks, wiping away your tears by kissing both cheeks.

“It’s so silly, Tete.” You whisper, falling limp against his hold.

“No, no, it’s not,” he rushes, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. “C’mon, it’s not silly, please tell me, darling.” He’s almost begging at this point because he wants to rip whatever’s ailing you away.

“I was so scared, Taehyung.” Your fists clench, somewhat ashamed that you’re being a baby and creating a fuss.

“I know you were but guess what y/n? You were so so so strong and you did so so so well. Not just for the surgery but everything before that. All the hospital visits, meds, all the pain. You were so brave and I love and admire you for that. If I was in your place I never would have been able to do that.”

You sniffle, rubbing your eyes. “Yes, you woulda. Cuz I woulda been there for you too.”

He chuckles lightly, finding it incredible that despite being vulnerable to him, you were ever the fighter. Always had been and always will be. “Yeah? Is that so?”

“Yeah, cuz you were there for me even though you could have left.”

Taehyung’s silent for a few beats, thrown absolutely into confusion and doesn’t know what to say. “Why would you ever think that, y/n? I never, ever, in a million years, would have left you.”

“I know but it would have been easier and I wouldn’t have blamed you…I feel silly for saying that, though.”

“I understand but not even an army could separate me from you. You’re stuck with me.”

You slap his chest and giggle and again, it’s music to his ears, like little chimes playing in the wind. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Well it’s obviously not!” He fakes offence. “You have the most loving and exceedingly handsome boyfriend.”

Normally you would have playfully scoffed at this but this time it’s your turn to cup his cheek. “Yeah, I do, and I don’t know what I’d do without him.” He leans into your touch and his skin warms up with love. “I love you so much, taehyung. I can’t put into words how much I love you cuz you just jumble up my thoughts but all I know is that I want to stay with you for the rest of my life.”

His eyes shine wide and bright as he perks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanna fight with you over where to eat every week, I wanna get ready for life with you every morning, and I wanna have debates on which kind of peanut butter is better.”

“Crunchy, obviously.” He quips.

“Disgusting. It’s smooth.”

“Did you mean debates like that?”

You kiss his nose, his cheek, his forehead, his lips. “Exactly like that.”

“You know what I wanna do?” Taehyung asks

“What’s that?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and props you back against the pillows, gently placing the tray of food on your lap, ready to feed you. “I wanna take care of you in big ways and small. I wanna help you relax when your stupid boss is being a meanie, I wanna get your favourite snacks whenever you forget, I wanna do everything with you.”

“Everything? Like what?”

He ponders for a moment but he already has a list inside his head. “Take you somewhere nice, let you see everything the world has to offer. See you accomplish everything you wanted to, see you at my concerts, have you with me when I release my first album.”

“Dedicated to me, of course.”

He firmly nods his head, pouting his lips. “As if I’d have it otherwise.”

“Alright, keep going. What else would we be doing?”

He leads a spoonful of macaroni and cheese to your mouth, watching with a small smile as you chew and swallow your food. “Make horrendous concoctions of food and serve them at big dinner parties with the utmost seriousness and see how people react. Dance around the apartment in our underwear at night.”

He stops feeding you for a moment and he looks down at his lap. “Is that it, Tete?”

“No. I want to settle down with you, have children, grandchildren, a big family. I want to grow old with you, all gross and wrinkly but you’d still be the most stunning. I want you in my life now and forever, y/n.”

“Are you sure you want forever?” You jokingly challenge, heaping more macaroni into your mouth.

He leans forward and grabs your face, pressing multiple kisses upon it. “I’ve never been more sure about something in my entire life.”

Of all the things you had come to love in your life, everything small and miniscule, almost unimportant, there’s no greater love than yours for Taehyung, and his for you.

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boots-with-the-fur-club · 2 months

Text

Chapter 3 of The Teenage Mutant Phantom of the Opera!

@daboyau

The next few days of production began filling with incidents. It started out small, the other lead actor’s oolong tea was replaced with green tea. The practice was so busy that he didn’t notice until his throat got sore.

Usagi had to take over for him.

Then, another day, the actor somehow got trapped in a storage closet for hours. Usagi once again filled in while others looked for him.

It was very clear that these incidents alone annoyed the actor.

The others were driving him close to the edge.

His belongings kept going missing, some turned up broken or just never turned up at all.

It became a talking point amongst the entire production crew.

Since Usagi didn’t talk to most of them unless it was to help with the scenery or coffee, he was mainly left out of these conversations.

Except with Donnie.

He actually advocated for Usagi to be doing more practices because of all the incidents happening.

They were taking a break together.

“This a serious streak of bad luck….”

“Oh please, you don’t need to act like you care. I admire your ambition but you’ve been way too obvious about the whole thing.”

Usagi furrows his brows in confusion.

“Uh….could you explain?”

“Everyone knows it’s you messing with the production.”

“What!? No! I’m not doing any of this!” His ears shoot straight up.

“Look, it’s not like I can prove what you say, you can tell me.”

Usagi frowns and then realizes two things.

One, Donnie was making the same face he always makes when he’s giving a weird excuse for being late.

Two, there was a quiet humming coming somewhere from him.

“Are…..are you recording this?”

Donnie’s face immediately grows nervous, eyes darting away.

“Noooooo….?”

“Oh my god! You think I did it and wanted get proof!”

“Aha! So you might have confessed!”

“There’s nothing to confess! I didn’t do anything! I wouldn’t!” Usagi stomps his foot, then immediately feels his face flush in embarrassment.

It was something he couldn’t help as a rabbit yokai. People who didn’t know or understand just thought he was acting like a kid.

Now he felt upset and embarrassed.

“Who else could be doing this? The phantom? Likely story that there’s someone unseen you can blame for all this.“ Donnie scoffs.

Usagi is taken aback.

Would he be doing this?

It is true that he’s only learned simple things about him during their practices. He held true to his promise and told him a new piece of information each time, but so far it was his favorite food, color, and drink.

Nothing that could help him tell if he was capable of going this far.

He’s been kind to him without fail, though.

Donnie hasn’t.

Usagi feels the need to defend himself, and the phantom.

“How dare you? I’ve been helping the crew members every second I’m not practicing! When would I even have the time or ability to do the things you’re accusing me of!?”

“It’s busy, you could have snuck away-“

“Someone would have noticed their errand boy was gone for that long! I’m not evil, I’m not jealous, I just want to sing! That’s all. I wouldn’t mess with someone just to get a part, and if I ever did, it would be you!”

“Me!? After I thanked you and gave you advice!?”

“You just tried to get me to admit to something I didn’t do while you recorded it! And just because you treated me a little better than everyone else doesn’t mean you’re nice! You’re rude, Donatello. You’ve rubbed getting the part in my face so many times. I really don’t mind you did! I’m happy for you, in fact! You’re good at singing and you have style!”

“You….like how I perform?”

“That’s what you take away from all that? Seriously!? I can’t do this anymore today, I’m going home early.” Usagi rushes down the steps in a huff.

Donnie says nothing, only looking at the floor until he’s gone.

Usagi returns to the building that night. He didn’t want his mood to make the phantom think he abandoned him.

Thankfully he still had keys from the late night work.

Leo sits there on the edge of the stage, legs dangling.

“Welcome back.”

Usagi smiles softly at him before sitting next to him.

“Hey. I hope I didn’t make you worried being here later than usual.”

“It’s alright, I know that you’ve been busier with getting to practice.”

Usagi frowns.

“Do you remember the incidents that have been happening?”

“Of course.”

“I’m getting blamed for them. I probably should have seen it coming with how much everyone has it out for me. Donnie even tried to get me to confess!”

Leo prevents the scowl that wants to form on his face.

His blood boils, and it’s difficult to not react as much as he wants to.

He tightens his fists instead.

“Yuichi, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

“He said the only possible culprits would be me, or….the phantom.”

Leo turns his head away from him and stares straight ahead.

“You think I’m doing this.”

“No, no! Not at all! I promise! That’s just what he said!” Usagi frantically waves his arms around.

“It’s okay. I understand why. We both know it wasn’t you, so there’s only one person left to blame.”

Usagi feels incredibly guilty.

“I don’t blame you, believe me. There’s no way you could do all that without getting caught since you’re not part of the staff, and you wouldn’t do it period! I know you wouldn’t.”

Leo smiles.

He didn’t even have to lie, just avoiding answering the question in the first place did the trick.

While lying to him wasn’t the best base for a relationship, it’s not like the truth would be very appealing.

Of course he was behind everything.

He knew they’d never let Usagi sing even after all the practice in the world. Maybe not even when they actually needed him during a performance if he never got to practice beforehand on stage.

He had to do something to help the person who deserved it more than anyone.

“You don’t need to panic. Even if it crossed your mind just a little. I mean, how are you supposed to defend someone you only know as the phantom?”

“I’m so so sorry-“

“Maybe it’s better if you call me Leo instead.”

Usagi’s eyes grow large.

“Your name is Leo?”

“Yes, it is.”

Usagi smiles widely.

“It’s definitely a lot nicer to call you. Is it a nickname?“

“It’s my full name.”

“Like the constellation! No wonder it’s the main one on the ceiling. You both must have been pretty close.”

Leo nods, face dropping a bit.

“She always said it was nice to have a star like me down on earth with her. A Leo she could see even in the day time.”

Usagi feels his heart absolutely melt at hearing such a sweet sentiment.

He keeps that to himself though, as he knows it must be bittersweet for Leo.

“It….kind of hurts to remember, doesn’t it?”

“…..It does. The better someone is to you before they go, the harder it is when they do.”

Usagi looks out wistfully from the stage, bringing up his legs to hold them to his chest.

“It’s because it means a good part of your life is gone. I get it. There’s no chance of doing anything else with them again, new or otherwise.”

Leo looks down.

“Do you think this is going to turn into a sad memory too?”

Usagi is quiet for a second, then touches his shoulder with Leo’s.

“No. I’m going to look back at this and remember that I spent time with a friend. That’s all.”

Leo feels his face heat up slightly, turning away.

“You make me forget to feel sad.”

Usagi smiles again.

“So do you. Why don’t we skip practice today and just talk? Or maybe you can play the organ again.”

Leo looks back at him.

“Shouldn’t we be thinking about what to do about you getting blamed?”

“There’s not a whole lot I can do about it. If they’re going to kick me out, then….that’s just what I’m going to have to deal with. We can hang out somewhere else if that happens! There’s so many places I can take you.”

Leo bites the inside of his cheek.

No.

He can’t.

But the allure to just imagine it is way too strong.

“Could you tell me about them?”

Usagi lights up, starting off ramblings of different areas in the Hidden City and the spots in them.

Leo listens carefully and allows his voice to flow into his thoughts.

He wishes he could tell him not to worry. Come tomorrow, everything would be taken care of.

The blaming, the stress, the threat of losing his role.

Donnie.

All of it.

Instead, he just has a nice time with him, allowing him to end the day better than he started.

Usagi leaves the theatre with a smile and absolutely no clue about what Leo is planning.

When he goes in late to the theatre then next day, he doesn’t have that same smile.

He’s too nervous about what will happen.

The stares and whispers of everyone around him as he walks doesn’t help in the slightest.

He gets to the stage and nervously heads to the back, looking for the director.

Donnie and the other lead were already talking to him.

Things didn’t seem good.

The other lead turns his head towards him before stomping over.

“You! I’ve had enough of your dumb antics! You’ve gone too far this time!”

Usagi holds up his hands defensively.

“Woah! Hold on! I just got here! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

“Yes you do! You just must have snuck in last night to do it!“

“What do you think I did!?”

The other lead angrily holds up a bag that was torn up, scribbled on, wet, and covered in glitter.

“This! I left my it here accidentally and now it’s ruined!”

“Look at my hands, if I used glitter it would still be in me! I promise I didn’t!”

“It is true though, glitter is impossible to hide. My brother uses it and I still find it months later.” Donnie suddenly interjects, walking closer.

Usagi is surprised that he’s defending him at all.

“See? I didn’t do it-“

“Although it’s highly unlikely that any of the other incidents have anything that can disprove it was him.”

Usagi sighs heavily.

“There’s also nothing that proves it was me!”

“I’m sorry Yuichi, you’re the only one who comes to the playhouse at night. I’m going to have to ask you not to come back.” The director insists.

Usagi feels his heart crumble into pieces, ears dropping down as tears prick at his eyes.

He opens his mouth to beg, plead, defend himself again, but his ears suddenly perk up again at a certain sound.

So, something very different is said.

“Get down!” He pushes Donnie.

The movement causes Usagi to fall on top of the soft shell. Donnie looks at him with confusion and anger, leaning towards anger, until he sees the sandbag crash down right where he had been standing.

It would have landed on top of him if he had not been moved out of the way.

Usagi moves off of him, looking down at him with concern.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Donnie’s heart begins hammering in his chest from both the sudden falling and the close proximity they’re in.

A blush creeps onto his face as he realizes that the boy in front of him who he kept bragging to is actually…..really nice to look at.

He scrambles out from under him.

“I-I’m fine!….Thanks to you, I guess.”

Usagi stands up before offering his hand out to Donnie.

He stares hard before hesitantly taking it and standing up.

His hand was soft and plush.

He hates to admit that he held on for just a second longer than he should.

The director and some other staff look at the sandbag to see what had happened.

The top seemed frayed in a way that could be normal wear and tear.

That wasn’t the only possibility though.

“Okay, no role is worth this! If he didn’t do it, then that stupid phantom did this! I quit!” The other lead angrily walks off.

The director follows after to try to convince him not to go but it doesn’t seem to work.

Donnie glances at Usagi.

“I guess you’re getting the role after all.”

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sabraeal · 2 years

Text

don’t speak boyshit, Chapter 7

[Read on AO3]

“You’re not sick.” The hag says it with authority, the kind she only has because she’s not the one whose skin is squeezing her bones like it’s last year’s uniform. “Go to school.”

Kamitani grunts, shrugging his shoulders like it might make his body sit right for once. “You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do, I’m your mother.” Everyone says he’s got his mom’s eyes, straight down to the squint, but he knows his don’t look as stupid when they roll. “You probably just have some test you don’t want to deal with. What is it? English? Japanese? Chemistry? Or are you worried about midterms already?”

“I do just fine in chemistry, no thanks to--” He grits his protest between his teeth. “Whatever. Exams aren’t for weeks yet. Can’t you see I’m actually--?”

That hag just shakes her head. “Try something else. Did you forget to do your homework? Oh, or maybe you’re avoiding some--”

“I just feel weird, all right?” he snaps, arms folding across his chest like a fence. “Like, I don’t know, all itchy or whatever.”

“Oh.” His stomach may already be a restless pot about to boil, but it flips when that woman smiles, all knowing. “I get it. This is some puberty thing--”

“I’m just sick, okay?” His face has got to be feverish enough now to make some mercury rise. “How are you so sure I’m not?”

The hag huffs, like he’s being the ridiculous one here. “Because if you were sick, you wouldn’t be down here complaining. You’d be in your room under the covers, acting like you’re going some ill antelope, wandering off from the herd to die.”

Well, he’ll give it to her, that’s a good point. “Can’t you just get a thermometer or something?”

“Fine.” She throws up her hands. “But if it’s normal, you’re going to school

Ten minutes later, he’s glaring at the tiny numbers like he could make them inch up to thirty-seven degrees from will alone. “I still feel weird.”

Mom claps him on the shoulder. “Walk it off, champ.”

That weirdness clings to him all morning, makes his tie sit too tight-- Hebihara snaps at him in the hall to straighten it, and Kamitani makes sure to shove that thing so deep in his bag it’d take a team of archaeologists to find it-- and his sweater itch. Which he could deal with; having the check engine flash every few days is pretty much his whole experience with puberty. It’s just--

“Is that the girl from the advanced class?” Saginuma leans over his desk, little shard of his chips falling from his mouth because he’s a fucking animal. “You know, what’s-her-name?”

Usokawa huffs, all nervous. “W-What’s she doing down here?”

His palms go clammy, stomach clenching in anticipation, and still, he doesn’t put it together, not until Side Ponytail stands up and calls out, “Inomata? Are you looking for someone?”

He doesn’t mean to look up. It’s just a reflex, a quick glance to figure out what Usokawa’s on about so that he can just call him an idiot and move on. But instead she’s there, idling awkwardly at the door like she doesn’t belong. Because she doesn’t.

Well, if he thought living through some mystery illness sucked, figuring it out is worse. Every nerve fires at once, trying to figure out which combination will get him out of his seat and through the door. Anything to keep him from having to talk to her again.

The other girl’s up there too now, the shorter one, giggling as she asks, “Kashima-kun, maybe?”

Kashima’s already halfway out of his seat, all curious because he’s too nice to look annoyed, and that’s when she lifts her chin, glaring out over the short girl’s shoulder. “I’m looking for Kamitani.”

Usokawa’s head whips around. “Dude,” he whispers, eyes round behind his glasses. “What did you do? Fail a test or something?”

Worse. He didn’t answer one of her questions.

“Nothing,” he mutters, getting to his feet. “Come on, Kashima, let’s go.”

The kid stares, like somehow he’s not sure how words work. “M-me? But Inomata-san’s looking for--?”

“I’m grabbing some bread.” With a huff, Kamitani grits out again, “Let’s go.”

Still, he‘s just crouched there, wasting precious seconds. “But I brought lunch--?”

“Don’t care.” He grabs Kashima’s wrist, hauling him up. Inomata may have gotten one door all cluttered up with his classmates and their questions, but there’s a second one. A fact he’s going to make good use of. “You’re coming with me.”

Kashima makes a good show of protesting, sputtering and stammering as he drags him across the classroom floor, but for all his carrying on, he doesn’t try to stop him. Not even when Kamitani jerks him over the door jamb, school shoes only missing the metal slide by inches. It’s one less sound to draw her attention, which is all he cares about.

“Kamitani,” the kid bleats out, glancing over his shoulder like he thinks any moment Inomata is going to bear down on them with the wrath of a righteous god. “I don’t see why we have to--”

“I’m hungry,” he grumbles, maneuvering Kashima in front of him. Kamitani hardly needs any help navigating the crowd-- he’s tall enough that people get out of his way without encouragement-- but the goody-goody needs to be babysat. The last thing he needs is his insurance to get a crisis of conscience right before the reckoning bears down on them. “You need a better reason?”

“But I don’t see what that has to do with me?” he yelps, eyes so wide they start eating up his eyebrows.

Too bad Kashima’s not a dog, or better yet-- a younger brother. At least then he’d do what he’s told. “I like company.”

Kashima glances back over his shoulder, brows shuffle like a deck of cards. “No, you don--”

“Hey!”

Great. Kamitani grits his teeth. Barely a meter down the hall and they’re already out of time. “C’mon, Kashima, get a move on.”

His eyes are wild, trailing over his shoudler. “But, Inomata--”

“Stop!”

Her shout’s got enough steel in it to arrest a grown man, but Kamitani hasn’t coasted through all of gakuen by doing what angry women shout at him, and he’s sure as hell isn’t about to start now. Not by listening to Inomata. He doesn’t even spare a look back, propelling Kashima down the hall with the same shove that’s tagged more runners than anyone else on the team combined. But when he goes to follow--

He pulls up short, like a dog on a leash. Inomata’s already pale, but next to the navy of his sweater her fingers are white as stripes, crushing the wool beneath them. He tugs, just a bit, to test her, but they don’t budge, not a millimeter. Damn, that’s some grip.

It’s a mistake to look up; her glare’s waiting, pinning him the way beetles are to cork board. “You can’t just avoid me because you don’t want to listen.”

Watch me doesn’t work when she’s got hands like a vise. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not just avoiding you,” he informs her, enjoying the dubious twist her mouth takes. “I’m going to get some food, and I don’t want to talk to you. It’s different.”

Inomata doesn’t have nails to speak of, but what little she has pricks through the wool. “If you would just hear me out--”

“Don’t want to.”

She snorts, just like a boar, annoyed. “I’m only asking for you to give me a minute--”

“Oi, Kashima!” he calls out, drawing wide-eyed confusion from where the crowd’s carried the kid down the hall. “Can you wait up a sec?”

Inomata’s grip tightens. He’s going to have bruises at this rate. “You wouldn’t.”

He rolls his head along his shoulders, letting his mouth twitch toward a grin. “Try me.”

“Kamitani?” Kashima stumbles against the flow, tripping over a few first-years before he finally ends up close enough to hear over the noise. “Did you need me for something?”

“Just a sec.” He stares down at her; funny how much easier it is to catch all the daggers her glare throws at him when he has the high ground. “Okay, now go ahead and say what you want to say.”

All that huffy stubbornness deflates underneath the pressure of Kashima’s polite confusion. “We’re not done talking about this,” she warns, but it’s nothing to tug away from her now, the strength gone right out of her.

“Yeah, yeah.” I have unlimited access to Kashima, his grin tells her, and by the way she pouts, Inomata receives the message loud and clear. “We’ll see.”

With a huff, she spins on her heel, storming down the hall with a much smaller wake.

Kashima struggles to stand at his shoulder, staring after her. “What was that all about?”

“Who knows,” he lies, rubbing at his wrist. “C’mon, let’s get back to class.”

“W-what?” Kashima is constitutionally incapable of glaring, but he comes close now. “But you said you had to get lunch!”

It’s easy to shrug his shoulders, to let all this roll off his back like water off a duck. “Just remembered I brought mine.”

The girls always groaned over gym second year, complaining that having it first period ruined their work or whatever, but in Kamitani’s opinion, having it straight after lunch is worse. Sure, a few of them might have smudged some make up, but he’d take that over the stomach cramp he’ll earn running the track on a full stomach.

At least the girls change earlier now, using part of the lunch period to go swap clothes in the bathrooms, rather than making all the boys wait outside while they switched clothes in the classroom. That shit used to take forever, and by the time the guys were done, it felt like they’d lost half the time on the field. Barely get through calisthenics before Mamizuka-sensei was waving them inside.

Now the only chunk out of PE is how long it takes fifteen boys to change into a t-shirt and shorts. Which should be three minutes tops, except--

“Dude,” Usokawa coughs. “What did you do?”

He’s got a whole policy about Usokawa’s bullshit: don’t fucking get involved. But he’ll admit-- once he’s got his sweater over his head, he does try to figure out what that idiot is on about. The guy’s barely got two brain cells to rub together most days, but sometimes whatever’s rattling around in there is entertaining.

It just so happens that today it’s him. At least, that’s what he assumes from the stare he’s fixed with. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“With Inomata!” the idiot hisses, just loud enough to sound like a whisper without actually being one. “She came here for you didn’t she?”

“Yeah, man! Are you in trouble or something?” Saginuma’s shirtless, the cotton rucked up in his hands ready to wear, but he pauses to lean in anyway, like they aren’t on the fucking clock. “Did you break a rule? Flunk a test?”

Kamitani glares. “I don’t flunk tests. I’m not you idiots.”

“Right, you just come close,” Usokawa allows, still wearing his stupid uniform. “Then what is it?”

He grunts, dragging his shirt over his head. “Why are you asking me? She comes here for Kashima all the time, and I don’t see you guys asking him what fucking color his underwear is.”

Kashima flushes; with his shirt off, it races right down to his chest. “Kamitani!”

“Well, yeah, but you don’t hang out with her like Kashima does.” Saginuma finally puts his shorts on, hands sitting on his hips. “So it’s weird, you know what I mean?”

“No.”

“Hey wait.” Ebizawa’s halfway through tying his sneakers and looking too thoughtful for the effort. “Didn’t you both disappear during the hanami? Kashima said he saw you walking off after her.”

Kashima holds up his hands, like that’ll keep him from glaring a hole right through his nosy face. “I just said you walked off in the same direction! Not, er...”

“Oh ho ho ho!” Great, now Usokawa got his chin pinched between his fingers, looking far too smug to survive this conversation. “Maybe Kamitani-kun is in some other kind of trouble then?”

His teeth grit around a, “What?”

“You know how it is. You meet a girl under the sakura, petals are falling around you, there’s magic in the air...” Usokawa flutters his eyelashes like he’s the one with his back to the tree. “Stuff happens...”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” he snaps, shoving his head through his shirt. “Like I’d do anything like that.”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Saginuma laughs, shaking his head. “Any other girl in our class would be happy to be cornered by Kamitani, so why the hell would he go do that with Inomata?”

The thing is: he agrees. Or well, as much as he can ever agree with something that comes out of these idiots’ mouths. He’s spent the last six years dodging confessions from nearly half the female student body because girlfriends are a fucking pain; the last thing he’d ever do is to turn around and shack up with the most annoying chick he knows.

And yet when Saginuma says it like that, like there’s something wrong with her, his hand starts to itch. The kind that makes him think that Saginuma’s smiling face looks really fucking punchable.

“You don’t need to say it like that.” Kashima’s always been the sort of kid that flaps in the breeze, couching all his confrontation in ums and ers and burying his meaning in a whine. But now he looks straight at Saginuma, inches taller than the last time the school measured. “Inomata-san is a good person. She might be a little high-strung, sure, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with her.”

No, but now Kamitani has a strong worry there’s something wrong with him. He drags a hand down his face, like somehow that might scrub the last ten minutes from his head. “Whatever, can we just go run our fucking laps now?”

Ebizawa groans. “Only you would look forward to that, Kamitani.”

He grunts, shoving on his shoes. “It’s easier than putting up with you morons.”

“Thanks for staying late, Kamitani-senpai.” Sato’s hair is too short to tie up in a ponytail-- I never liked stringing that through a cap, she huffed when the first years asked her if she’d ever grow it out-- so she just pushes a strand of it behind her ear. “I know it’s the club’s off day, but it’s a huge help to have two hands on deck for inventory.”

“We should have made the whole club hang back,” he grumbles, brushing some dust off his sleeve. He’s not sure when the last time the storage shed was cleaned out, but it certainly wasn’t by any of the captains he’d played under. “At least maybe then they’ll stop just throwing stuff in there without looking. I’m sure as hell not gonna go clean up their shit again.”

Makino-senpai would have huffed. She would have waggled a finger and told him that just because she was the club manager didn’t make her their mom either. But Sato just tilts her head back, a small hand rubbing at her chin. “That’s not a bad idea. Do you think you could bring it up to them? I would, but I feel like they might not take me seriously since I’m, you know...”

A first year, hand-picked by Makino-senpai from the middle grade’s team last fall. That should be enough clout to box the ears of these idiots, in his opinion, but, well-- he’s not stupid. The old hag might be the bane of his existence, but she hasn’t rattled on about lack of respect for having possession of two complete chromosomes for nothing.

“Yeah,” he grunts, shoving his hands in his pocket. “I can box ‘em around the ears for good measure, too.”

She laughs; the same trilling one that blonde girl does, the one in their class that’s always hanging around Kashima. “Well, sure, okay. Just don’t do that literally, senpai.”

“Don’t see why not.” He shrugs, scratching an annoyance between his shoulders. “They probably deserve it.”

“Probably.” Sato’s the kind of cute that always has half the team sighing and making eyes-- and the other half complaining that they prefer someone mature like Makino-- but when she grins, it stretches tight across her teeth, bloody-minded. “But if you do that, we’ll have a heck of a time getting to Koshien this summer with half our players benched.”

Yeah, she’ll fill Makino-senpai’s shoes just fine. “Fine,” he allows with a sniff. “I’ll let ‘em off easy.”

“Thanks. And again, I appreciate that you stayed behind.” Her shoes scuff on the sidewalk before going silent, and for the second time in as many days, his stomach drops. Sato’s a nice enough kid, he’d hate for her to ruin it by being a girl about him being decent. “Make sure you tell your girlfriend I’m sorry for keeping you.”

“Girlfriend?” He shakes his head. If this is a come on, it’s the first time he’s heard it. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh?” There’s nothing leading about that sound, only curiosity, and when he whips around she’s not looking at him. Oh no, she’s looking down, tracing the slope of the hill, right down to where it blends into the entrance, and-- “Isn’t that her standing by your bike?”

He’s not trying to be quiet, not even a little, but still that girl has the gall to startle when he grunts out, “You really don’t know when to quit do you?”

“I--!” Her back arches off the post like someone’s put a current through it before the rest of her follows, propelled forward until she scuffs up to a stop in front of him under the awning. Her mouth works, as wide and round as her stupid eyes, but all she comes up with is: “You!”

“Yeah, me.” Air hisses through his nose, but he grits his teeth before he can get any further. “Have you been waiting here since class got out?”

“Wha--? Not the whole time!” Her whole face ripens like a tomato, so quick he’s surprised she doesn’t faint from the rush. Kashima’s never mentioned what Inomata’s post-graduate plans are, but whatever it is, it better not involve lying. You know, since she’s shit at it. “I went to club.”

Kamitani’s always been tall, but that last growth spurt second year really gave him something to work with. He uses every last inch of it to loom over Inomata, folding his arms and letting his doubt fall as heavy as a piano from a window.

“I did!” she insists, defiant and squirrely all at once. “I just I told the president I had a personal issue.”

“Inomata-san skipping out on school duties.” His whistles, impressed. “Didn’t expect to see that today.”

Most girls blush all delicate, just a rosy tint on their cheeks that makes them look all cute or whatever, but Inomata approaches it the same way she does everything: head on, looking like she’s got a rash all up and down her throat. “I’m not skipping! I’m excused for personal reasons.”

He snorts. “That’s supposed to be because your grandpa died or something. Not because you’re late to being a pain in the ass.”

“M-me?” She huffs, fists on her hips as she reminds him, “You’re the one who won’t finish our conversation!”

“Uh, I did.”

“You didn’t.” She glowers, like somehow he’ll be intimidated by an ill-tempered girl. Like she hasn’t met he mom before or something. “You just laughed.”

A grin threatens to escape containment, twitching at the corner of his lips. “That seems like a pretty good answer. Especially since you wanted to ask me to give you romance advice.”

“I wanted you to tell me about boys,” she snaps, that rash reaching finger up to her cheekbones. “I don’t see why you’re being so strange about it, it’s just information. You’re already a boy, that makes you practically an expert.”

There’s something sad about Inomata trying to stroke his ego like this, like if she just greases his wheels a little he might not squeak when she pushes him. “You don’t care what boys think, you care what Kashima thinks.”

If he thought she was flushed before, she looks like she could be an entry for spontaneous combustion now. “I didn’t say that!”

"I mean, you did.” He steps closer, enjoying the way she flinches. “That’s the whole reason you even want me, right? Because I’m his friend or whatever.”

“I...” Her mouth works, trying out about half of a dozen words before she lets it snap shut, glaring at him like somehow that’s his problem.

He reaches out, grabbing his bike off the rack. “Great talk.”

“No, wait! Fine. I--” her breath hisses through her teeth-- “I did say that. About how being friends makes you a good candidate for being a tutor.”

Kamitani shrugs, stunted by the death grip he had on his handlebars. “Sucks for you then. I don’t know anything about what he likes. Frankly, I don’t think Kashima’s got a handle on it either.”

“I understand,” she blurts out, looking anywhere but at him. “I do. But even...even just regular boy stuff would be helpful. Anything, because I don’t really...um...know...about...” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Any of that...”

He shifts, annoyance dragging its nails beneath his skin. “No shit. Who would want to hang around and let you nag them?”

Kamitani has a reputation-- one he’s been building since middle school, when girls started giving him sly side-eyes and talking to his shoes instead of his face-- as a guy who doesn’t care about tender feelings. As the one who finds boxes of Valentine’s Day chocolates in his cubby and tips them in the trash. Someone who can field a confession with a simple, “Not interested.”

But sometimes, sometimes, he knows it can be too much. Back in the middle grades he tossed out a box of a dozen homemade chocolates; it wasn’t until he glanced in the bin that he saw the wrapper wasn’t from any store he knew. Freshman year he’d ragged on a batter limping to home, only for them to find the kid’s ankle swollen twice the size of a baseball back in the dugout. Only a few months after, D-- that guy left, the hag had sent him up to his room for something stupid and he’d yelled out, this is why Dad couldn’t take it anymore.

So, he doesn’t need to see behind Inomata’s fluttering hand to know what kind of expression she’s hiding. Or that once again, he’s let himself too far of the leash.

He stifles a sigh. “Fine. What do I get out of it?”

Her gaze jumps the fence of her fingers, wide and utterly blank as it fixes on him. God, this girl didn’t think about this stupid plan at all.

“As I said--” he lifts his handlebars again, trying to disengage the bike from the rack-- “great talk.”

“Wait!” Her fingers are white against his grips, bracing the bike in place. Impressive, considering that she probably doesn’t know what a free-weight is, let alone lifts them. “Study!”

He blinks. “What?”

“Study.” With a shuddering breath, she looks up at him, eyes flinty enough to start a spark. “Midterms are coming up, aren’t they? I can help you study.”

That stops him in his tracks. Inomata’s held the top spot in their class five years running, both Nezu and Yagi nipping at her heels but never landing a bite. She might not be a popular pick for slumber parties-- or parties at all, for that matter-- but around exam time there’s always some idiot that tries to tempt her into a study group, only to be met with a shoulder so cold it could freeze fire solid.

And now here she is, offering it up on a platter. Not something he can sneeze at, little as he’d like to admit it

“That’s a month away,” he reminds her, wary. “You think I want to put up with you for that long?”

“You? Put up with me?” Those eyes of hers spark, bright enough to melt this whole rack into modern art. “I’m the one who would be putting up with you. What were you on the last set of exams? Sixty-seven?”

Seventy-six, but the last thing he needs to do is help her point. “That’s just because I don’t give a shit. I could get higher if I felt like it.”

It’s not possible for steam to come out of someone’s ears, but Inomata looks like she’d love to give it a try. “What do you mean you’re not trying? Why would you purposefully--?”

“See?” This time he does grin, leaning right down into her face. Close enough that she blinks. “You already want to take up my time talking about boy shit. What makes you think I’m gonna double that time by adding studying?”

Her cheeks puff out, annoyed. “We can do both at the same time. And--” she says the word like he’s pulling teeth-- “I’ll give you my notes.”

Now that-- that’s something. He’d seen a glimpse of them before, snapped shut before he could take in more than the neat handwriting and detailed diagrams. Girl couldn’t draw a pig to save her life, and yet he’d seen jawbones with detailed articulation, and a cluster of crisp little hexagons up in one corner of the page. Color coding too, if he was to hazard a guess at the purpose of all those little tabs in her notebook.

“Never mind,” she sighs, grip loosening. “If you really don’t want to, I can’t--”

“Fine.” He jerks his thumb behind him. “Get on.”

She blinks, eyebrows rumpling right over the long slope of her nose. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll do it. You convinced me.” This time, it’s his chin that tosses over his shoulder. “Now come on, get going. I don’t have club but I don’t got all day for this either.”

Her eyes dart behind him, but she doesn’t move, just stands there looking confused. “Go where?”

They say people trade arithmetic for trig when it comes to learning higher functions, giving up something simple to make space for the hard stuff that comes after, and for a moment Kamitani has to wonder if Inomata’s given up her basic conversation skills to fit all that stuff she needs to be number one. “My place.”

Her eyebrows jump up, chasing her hairline. “Right now?”

“You said you’d help me study, right?” With a yank, he pulls the bike free-- both of the rack and Inomata. “Not gonna get a better time than now. Unless you’d like the old hag knowing you’re over our place, hanging out with me.”

Her mouth pulls into a grimace. “Ah, yes, well I suppose it would be best to get everything ironed out today.”

“Great.” His leg swings over the crossbar, toes scraping on the pavement. “Then get on.”

“On your bike?” She peers behind him, dubious. “There’s no room.”

“Of course there is,” he scoffs. “You’ve just got to hold my bag.”

Her eyes round, horrified. “You want me to ride on the bag rack? That’s illegal.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “We could get in trouble.”

“Sure,” he agrees. He’s never seen it happen, not in a podunk little town like this, but it could. “Are you coming or not?”

#inokami #inomata x kamitani #gakuen babysitters #gakubaby #hayato kamitani #kamitani hayato #maria inomata #inomata maria #my fic #future fic #year three #idiots to lovers #slow burn #dating lessons #there was a whole series of scenes after this that are now going to be ch 8 #where maria and kamitani embark upon the world's most stupid discussion trying to hash out the particulars of this arrangement #and i cannot wait to show you that stupidity in january #but for now please enjoy kamitani being embarrassed and having NO IDEA how to handle a basic emotion

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