#this has been a longgg time coming
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different places (different fates?)
role reversal au part 3! (part 1) (part 2) (tag) (ao3)
Eddie drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. Of course he had gotten involved with a murder investigation. At least he wasn’t the suspect… for now anyways. No, he had instead been recruited to rescue someone from a murder investigation. He was always down for some interference and meddling, but shit…
All he had wanted was a normal spring break to kick off the rest of a normal year.
Just one normal year where he could graduate and get the hell out of Hawkins.
But nope! A fucking murder investigation.
He shot a glance over at Robin, she seemed pretty calm about this whole thing. Eddie squinted, at least mostly calm about it, she kept fiddling with her rings. It made sense that she would be anxious, she was pretty close to Harrington. Although Eddie still couldn’t figure out why.
Henderson was obsessed with him, there must be a reason why. That butthead took no shit. But it was a mystery to Eddie. Although, it was starting to seem like it was related to all of the weird shit that was going on in Hawkins. Though he still wasn’t sure what weird shit that was.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, Dustin and Max were muttering quietly to each other. That probably wasn’t good, but before it could spark too much concern, Eddie remembered something else. They had said that it was very likely that he would end up being a suspect too. Which made sense, once a freak, always a freak. But… that didn’t mean he had to be unprepared and just hole up with no supplies. Of fucking course this all went down while his go bag was spread across the floor of his room to be restocked.
Eyes back on the road, Eddie hummed in consideration. “So… you said that I am going to be a suspect too, right?”
Robin shrugged awkwardly in her seat. “Well, most likely. I mean, they might not go for that angle, but…” She trailed off with a wince.
“Okay, okay.” Eddie nodded to himself. This wasn’t the best, but he had worked with less. He had gotten to Hawkins with less. “So, we are going to make a quick detour so I can pick up some clothes and tell my uncle. He should be off work right now…” Eddie tapped his fingers idly, trying to remember Wayne’s work schedule.
“What!?” Dustin shouted from the backseat.
Eddie jerked the steering wheel a little in surprise and glared over his shoulder. “Geez! Don’t do that! Fucking idiot.”
Dustin sighed and started again in a quieter voice, with even more exasperation in his tone. “They are currently looking for Steve. In a murder investigation. And you want to make a stop for clothes?”
“Look you little butthead, yes. I don’t know what spooky shit you guys have dealt with in the past, but yes. We want clothes because Steve’s were messed up from crawling through who knows what.” Eddie paused to make a turn before continuing. “And if what you were saying about this Code Red is true. And I’m saying if because I am just saying fuck it because yeah, why not. Then we are going to want to get my first aid kit before the shit goes down and not after.”
“But, but-” Dustin spluttered.
Robin twisted in her seat to look at Dustin. “Dustin! It’s alright! Grabbing some supplies is a good plan. You know as well as I do that shit can get messy quick and think how much easier that stuff last summer would’ve been if we had some more things ready.”
Eddie shot another look over at Robin in confusion. What the hell had happened last summer. There was the mall fire? Was that related to this whole mess? Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw Dustin cross his arms with a grumble. He looked back towards the road and continued towards the trailer park.
Max chimed in, “Besides, this means I can grab my walkie, Eddie’s place is right next to mine.”
“Fine! Fine, okay. Sorry for wanting to get to Steve as fast as possible. Steve, who’s one of my closest friends and is currently the number one suspect for murder.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. And the number two suspect here would like to prepare before any shit happens, alright?”
#steddie#stranger things#steddie role reversal au#this has been a longgg time coming#but also i was writing many other things instead lmao#shorter than part 2 but i was finally happy with it#ao3 updates will be multiple parts condensed#might just switch it over to ao3 at some point but idk#ori writes#steddie fic
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Chapters: 1/10
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives & CT-6116 | Kix, CT-5597 | Jesse & CT-6116 | Kix, CT-6116 | Kix & CT-7567 | Rex, Minor CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi - Relationship, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Characters: CT-6116 | Kix, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-7567 | Rex, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), Original Female Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Plo Koon, CC-3636 | Wolffe, CC-2224 | Cody
Additional Tags: Force-Sensitive Clone Troopers (Star Wars), CT-6116 | Kix Needs A Hug, Fix-It, Force Shenanigans (Star Wars), CT-6116 | Kix-centric, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Order 66 Fix-It (Star Wars), Time Travel Fix-It, Force-Sensitive CT-6116 | Kix, Survivor Guilt, Kix and Fives' friendship is very important to me (and to this fic), Trauma, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives Deserves Better, Clone Trooper Medics (Star Wars) Are Force-Sensitive, Shatterpoints Force Ability (Star Wars), Force Healing (Star Wars), Clone Troopers and Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars), Post-Bio Chip Arc (Star Wars: The Clone Wars), Canon-Typical Violence
Summary:
“Fives, you can’t be here,” Kix says. “Everyone’s trying to find you. They think you tried to assassinate the Chancellor, but—”
“I’m being framed! All of us—even the Jedi—are in grave danger!”
“Fives. I know about the chips.”
Last Kix remembers, he was being held captive on a Separatist ship. But when he finds himself back on Coruscant the day that Fives dies, his memory of the inhibitor chips and what happens to his brother still intact, he knows he has to do something.
A story about brotherhood, found family, and confronting your trauma.
#ahhh chapter one is up!!#the kix fic#my writing#tcw#tcw fanfic#the clone wars#sw fanfic#fanfiction#clone medic kix#tcw kix#this one has been a longgg time coming
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broken, pt. 1 (3tan) | myg
title: broken (pt. 1)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series:masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell.
note: this is only one half of what was supposed to be a whole chapter! broken, pt. 2 will come out after i've had time to make it something i'm proud of. trying to rush everything out didn't do any favors, so hilariously and ironically, broken is broken up into two hahaha.
warnings: language, angst, tension, yoongi’s pov is longgg, alcohol consumption, tobacco mentions, bro🥲, yoongi in the studio😩, the studio boys make another appearance👀, …someone else makes their first appearance👀👀, scuffles, tense situations, did i say angst?, water bottles get their own warning, long hair yoongi, basketball yoongi🫠, crying, bro a ha ha, jimin has tats and he’s not afraid to show them, the chains stay on(???), …bad boy yoongi😀👍, honestly he is on another level of warning here don’t perceive me💀, the fluff is fluffing here like what, backstory we’ve been waiting for😗, yoongi on the phone, hand holding :’)), kissing :’)), oh god the kissing❤️🩹, there’s just a lot in both parts i'm sorry y'all
playlist: broken (lp)
drop date: dec 3rd, 2023, 4:00pm est
word count: ...19.1k 🚶♀️
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Words abandon you.
They stand far from your form, pitying observers of your decaying state in front of the man you’ve been lying to. At once, you feel completely alone, not even Yoongi’s lingering presence helping when those eyes are piercing through time and space. Everything you’ve experienced over the past two years slings across your vision, from the first time you left your house in the pouring rain to get to Yoongi’s, to the car ride back you just took with his kiss still on your lips.
All of those moments shattering into dust around your heels.
Your feet make lines in them when you move to close the front door, something leaving your mouth before you can judge if it makes sense, “About what?”
Zero sense. Absolute zero sense. Which your brother has absolute zero patience for. The drone in his question hits you like a punch to the gut, “Really.”
“Just out late, is all,” you grumble, trying your best to not acknowledge an atmosphere so tense it’s almost crowded. “Jimin had another party, remember?”
“Course I do.”
Huh? Wait. Why does he sound so—
“I was there.”
Dread launches up your veins, rocketing right to your heart in the middle of a pulse. He was there? You saw his car when Yoongi pulled up close to the house. He was there? When the fuck did he arrive? Oh, fuck, if he got there early enough… did he see you… and Yoongi…
No. There’s no way. Because one, Yoongi parked far down and around the corner. He made sure not to be close just in case you two could be spotted.
With a thought you really cannot afford right now, you also assume he stayed that distance just so that he could pin you against his car. Fucking hell, focus! Upping the strength of your resolve to match cardboard, you lamely stall in your hunt for clarification, “You were?”
“I was.”
The watch on his wrist glints in its twist. When aggravated veins stare back at you, it’s obvious your brother is on the edge. Because he is deathly calm. “So where’d you go?”
You blink, not having expelled a single breath since you stepped foot inside.
Does he not know? Or does he know and he’s just waiting for you to finally spill? With all the hope in the universe, you yearn for it to be the first one. Because you cannot deal with a fallout right now. Not right after what happened with Yoongi.
It’s just not the right time.
“Yuri’s,” you blurt, finally kicking into gear and strategizing how you’re gonna finesse this. “She came and got me.”
Your sibling just stands there, eyes a solid beam before he sighs at clasped wrists.
Here it comes. He’s gonna ask why you didn’t say anything. Like he always does because for some reason you’re still not a true adult to him and he has to keep tabs on you at all times and you can’t just sneak around with his best friend in peace—
“K.” Your eyes shake once. “Just tell me next time.”
And just like that, your brother vacates the foyer, dark dress shoes clacking as he retreats back into his room. Leaving you standing in silence.
All the words around you just as speechless.
Just like that, you’re gone again.
After watching you leave and wishing you didn’t have to, Yoongi shuts his door to rest ponderous thoughts on worn wood. Eyes closed and a storm on his mind’s horizon.
Just a little longer. He hopes you’ll understand. This is just something he needs. More than anything else.
Exhausted, he peels himself from the door, meandering through the bog of his living room. Trudge, trudge, trudge to the dining table, skirting fingers along the edge and noting that it feels different than before.
At least something in his apartment has changed for the better.
Who would’ve thought that table would witness both an end and a beginning. That it would see the worst and best of him. If it was ever called to stand, there’s no doubt that it could recite all his failures and shortcomings. But he hopes that it would also attest to how much he’s fucking tried.
As much as Yoongi wants to throw it out, he hasn’t. Because despite being withered to hell, all it needed to recover was the new company of a familiar face.
And a little bit of summer rain.
It watches as his thoughts move on, and soaks in the blues and pinks of sunrise as he crosses into the bedroom. At the feel of your lingering presence, Yoongi gnaws on his lip.
What the fuck does he do now? The moment you leave, he wants nothing more than to have you back in his bed. It’s the one fact that he has come to fully acknowledge. Because there are many times you’ve caught him slipping. But when you’re lost to your dreams? Visibly at peace and safe under his sheets? That’s when he can’t even think straight.
How your serenity throws him into disarray, Yoongi has no fucking clue.
But he can’t afford these feelings right now. Because how can he want you close while being the reason for this distance? Make it make sense. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite. Tsking, Yoongi once again accepts the consequences, heading to his bathroom before going back the fuck to sleep.
Lies. Who is he kidding? There’s no way his rest will be the same without you. Especially since he doesn’t know when he’ll get to see you next.
There is a way to remedy that. To put an end to your time apart. But Yoongi’s been so in his fucking head that it’s chaining him down and pulling taut. No matter how much he struggles, he can’t break free, and it’s driving him to the brink.
But last night? With you? Half moons mar his palms as he stands. Staring. Branding that whole memory into his heart.
After three months of questioning his existence.
All it took was your soft hums to give him a reason.
And you won’t ever know how much that meant to him. Not until Yoongi finally decides to tell you. Which will most likely be never. Maybe that’s why this time tears at his chest more than all the others. Maybe that’s why he stood in his doorway longer than usual. Maybe that’s why he can’t quite carry the weight in his chest.
Dumping himself on dark mountains—creations of his and your design—Yoongi buries his face in those valleys. Inhales those aromas like some hit he can live off of for however many days left he needs.
Desperately grasping for a fading world where only you two exist. Drifting. Dreaming. Disarmed by a vibration on his nightstand.
The fuck.
Who is texting him this early. There are only a few people he has notifications on for wait it’s probably you saying you’re home.
Peeling himself off the sheets with a groan, Yoongi simply shifts his upper body to reach for his phone, squinty-eyed as he checks his screen.
And he doesn’t see your name.
Dumbass: 1 New Message
But your brother’s.
What the hell does he—
Dumbass [07:30]: We need to talk.
…Shit.
Yoongi grips his phone in panic, ice water streaming through his veins and mind set ablaze with potential scenarios.
He’s awake. You went home. And he’s awake. Fuck, did anything happen? Did you say anything? What are the chances this text means he found everything out?
Shit.
Does Yoongi answer now? Or does he sleep and pretend that this is just a text and isn’t a problem at all? Think. Your brother may not even be referencing you, or him. Right? It could be something completely different.
Why can’t he fucking move?
Every regret Yoongi’s kept at bay floods his brain, crashing into assumptions of your mental state and creating a massive whirlpool of dread. Just answer. Don’t answer. Just answer. Don’t fucking answer. Suddenly, another alert lights his home screen and it’s a call oh fuck—wait… It’s Jungkook?
Why not. Sure. What’s one more issue.
Picking up, Yoongi runs hard fingers through his hair as he answers.
“Hey, you coming?”
“Huh?”
“We have that session in thirty.”
The what. The session? Oh, fuck. The session. Yoongi completely forgot they had a recording booked today because they were so hyped last night to get a date for the release party shit. Vacating his bed, Yoongi answers with a low, “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, don’t be late. It’s those guys from before.”
Fuck, it’s that one. The dudes that stopped by the studio just as things were wrapping up, shocking everyone when they scheduled some time. Highly successful musicians and performers booking something with a no name studio? Things are rolling in the right direction and coming along fast.
But as things go. If they don’t take this shit seriously, everything can crash just as quickly.
“Heading out,” Yoongi finally says as he yanks a hoodie from his closet, and a loud vibration against his ear makes him flinch.
Dumbass [7:40]: Heading over
Fuck!
“You okay?”
“Shit, yeah.” Yoongi grips soft material before his phone hits his desk with a thump. Hastily dressing, he grunts, “Maybe. Might be like two minutes late.”
“Nah, come now.”
He’s heading over? Your brother? If that’s the case, there’s no way he doesn’t know.
Fuck, relax. Don’t overthink. If anything, there wouldn’t have even been a heads-up. Yoongi figures he’d just find out as soon as he’s thrown against a wall. Or the ground. Or right onto his coffee table that this very guy helped pick out. Shit, he needs to know but he doesn’t wanna find out.
But nevermind him. Are you okay? Swiping his device, Yoongi quickly types a text before fast-walking out of his room, going on autopilot when he assures into his receiver, “I’ll get there.”
Yoongi [7:42]: Going to the studio
“On time? You better!”
Goddamn, he’s juggling too much right now.
As Yoongi breaks into the dining room, he hears a rustling on the line before other voices jut through the speaker. Sounds like Hobi and Joon are already there, and the next thing said further spikes his stress level another peak,
“We’re already cutting it close with the prep.”
Fucking hell, the prep. The mics, the tracks, the setup. They forgot to do all of it. Something inside of him starts snarling and almost pounces through the phone, “Fuck, we should’ve been ready already.”
“Shit, I know.”
“We can’t keep doing this.”
“Dude, relax, I get it.”
“Do you? Cus this is… Fuck.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get it done but it’s gonna be tight. Hey, where’s the… Damn it, what’s it called?”
Frustrated and rummaging through his pantry, Yoongi knows he sure as hell didn’t think about anything else as soon as he heard you crying on the line. If he had remembered while leaving the studio, he could’ve spared a brain cell to rush everyone back in. “The what.”
“The… The overhead mic for the drums.”
Of course, he’d repeat every decision he made last night. Over, and over, and over again. But any of them should’ve remembered this step before leaving, which pisses him off. The studio’s lack of experience is showing and it’s making him nervous.
And Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s going on with his best friend.
“We need two overheads for drums,” he corrects while swiping a water bottle from the counter. And he’s about to rattle off where they are when he feels another long buzz.
Dumbass: Incoming Call
Of fucking course.
Mind whirring so hard he can feel steam, Yoongi quickly recalls where the mics are, “They’re somewhere in the back by the amps, but I gotta take this so I’ll see y’all there.”
“Wait, where are the—”
Nope. Kook’s just gonna have to figure out whatever he’s asking on his own. Switching calls, Yoongi answers while opening his door, hastily putting out the food and water he grabbed from the kitchen.
“Hey.” Fuck, is his voice shaking? What the hell is he gonna be faced with in the next few seconds? Can he freeze time and rewind and keep last night on repeat? “I’m about to head out.”
“Don’t leave yet, I’m coming.”
“No, just”—Yoongi dashes back inside before grabbing his wallet and keys from the bar—“You good? I can’t be late.”
“Don’t lie. Y’all are done, right?”
Don’t lie. Yoongi feels like hurling.
“We got another project,” he huffs as he meets sunrise again, blazing a trail through his corridor and rounding the corner to his car. “A band’s coming in for a session.”
“Shit.”
There’s a pause on the line. And it’s the first bit of silence Yoongi’s had since he got the first bone-chilling text. Is his secret safe? Are you okay? Should he work extra late and run from a problem yet again? He’s very good at that. Running. If there was a medal for distance ran from issues, he’d be on the podium for both gold and silver.
“Okay, fine.”
Relief is temporary. This could just be him biding his time in order to figure out what to do. Or maybe he truly doesn’t know what’s going on and Yoongi has a bit more uninterrupted time with you.
Delusion is a great place to stay.
In any case, his friend’s behavior is alarming. What’s he doing up this early? And why is he wanting to swing by so bad if not to slice him into tiny pieces? Nerves slow on the downslope, Yoongi shuts his car door and lends his ear, “But serious, are you okay?”
“I just… Tch. I can’t even say it.”
He lets his friend go through a series of small sounds on the line, pulling out of the lot and hitting the road with tire squeaks. “What’s up,” he finally pushes, looking sideways and remembering the car ride home.
There was no way Yoongi was gonna say no to you. He didn’t in this universe, and he’d bet his whole life he doesn’t in any other one, either. Not when your wings looked like you hadn’t used them in months.
Pained, Yoongi hopes you’re completely fine and sleeping. Tucked away in a bed that captured part of his heart, visiting him in your dreams so that some version of him can be at your side.
“Everything, Yoong.”
But, as it so starkly turns out, he has to deal with reality. And with the fact that you’re just as far away as you were before last night. Maybe even further out of reach.
So, so far away.
“There’s a ton of shit, but. Fuck. Guess we’ll have to wait.”
Right now, deal with the studio prep and get through the session that will probably take awhile. After that, meet up with your brother and hope to god he doesn’t know. “K.”
“Just lemme know when you get back.”
Then, when all of that is done, Yoongi will be alone. Staring into the night and trying his hardest not to give up on himself again. “Yeah, I will.”
“No running.”
“K.”
When the call ends, Yoongi lets out the harshest breath he’s ever let out in his life. Hoping you went right to sleep without dealing with any of that.
“How did that sound?”
Looking into the recording room, Yoongi raises a thumbs up as Hoseok clicks back to the beginning of the track. At their side, Namjoon hits a button on the console before speaking into a microphone, “Y’all wanna come hear it?”
“We can move on. Wanna get the doubling done.”
Huh? They’re gonna move onto vocal doubling already? With a few blinks, Yoongi think it’d be better if they—
“Okay!” Jungkook agrees from the couch, cutting out any other thoughts. “If any of you need adjustments, let us know.”
“Yeah, actually, can one of you come switch this out?”
Joon throws a suggestion over his shoulder, but Yoongi is already heading for the booth before his name is even mentioned.
Get everything done smooth. Stay disciplined. Be professional, goddamn it.
Entering the soundproofed room will always make him want to occupy the mic instead. That feeling hasn’t gone away, and there have been countless nights where he’s spent time just sitting in this very space, visualizing what it would be like to work on this side of the glass someday. Deep down, Yoongi knows he could be somebody. But imposter syndrome runs deep.
Avoiding cables strewn about the room, he offers his hands without a word, taking a guitar from the lead singer and making his leave—
“Hey.” He turns. “You’re good.”
What? Where the hell did that come from? Did he even hear this guy right or was he just daydreaming again? Yoongi’s so thrown he can only stare with question marks for eyes.
Amused, the singer simply points to the side of his beaming countenance. “You have an ear.”
Huh. How the hell can this dude tell? All Yoongi’s done is indicate if a recording take was good or not, and given a few minuscule suggestions to the keyboardist and guitarist—instruments he’s well-versed in.
Yet again, he’s so in his head that the man outright laughs, “Relax! You can talk to us like normal, you know. None of us care about etiquette shit.”
“Shit, my bad,” Yoongi finally responds, instrument in his hands proving a little lighter. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” Swishing long bangs to the side, the performer rests a hand on his hip. “We’re open to anything. We’d just tell you if your opinion sucks.”
Eyes creasing with his lips, Yoongi puffs out a laugh.
“Kidding. Only a little.”
Even though these people are world-renowned, they’re the first humble group to run through the studio. Everyone else has been either cocky, standoffish, or super opinionated, which made for unproductive hours.
Yoongi likes this change of pace. His shoulders start to feel composed, less scrunched than they had been since you left his place this morning. Comforted, he looks down at the guitar in his fingers.
Choosing not to say what he wants to.
Should he? Nah. These guys know what they’re doing. Despite the nice offer to speak up, it’s not his place. Far from it.
…But what would you tell him to do? What would you be proud of?
Committed to his answer, Yoongi grips the neck and decides without another thought,
“Do the chorus again.”
The whole studio stills. But all he’s looking at is the man in front of him, shaking his head when they ask, “Same way?”
“Uhm. No.” As he hands the guitar back, Yoongi wordlessly checks if he can see the sheet music. When given the go-ahead, he scans the lines before pointing out a passage to note,
“Mm. Here. Vocals are fine as is, but. Ride the build-up quicker and hit the next chord after a bit longer.” When he stops, he has to fight to ignore the eyes on him. There’s no doubt that his extended time in the recording room is being questioned, and his hand movements probably make him look stupid. “It’ll keep in time but hit harder.”
Done. He said it.
And the response that follows puts complete silence to shame.
Instantly self-conscious, Yoongi swears he can hear Hobi’s pants shift in the control room through two closed doors shit he took it too far. Fuck, if these guys walk out now the studio is done for and he’ll be the only reason why—
“Well, goddamn. Let’s try that then.”
Huh. They’re gonna take that?
As he steps away, Yoongi feels slightly awkward doused in attention. Yeah, expressions seem like looks of approval, but they could just be polite.
The man hums the chorus with Yoongi’s notes in mind, and his eyebrows tick a bit before he addresses the others in the room, “You heard him?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Yeah, we can try that.”
“Why didn’t you think of that, Woosung?”
Yoongi can’t keep his amusement under wraps as the singer laughs, addressing his keyboardist with a grin, “Damn, not even Sammy? Straight to Woosung, huh.”
“Sammy would’ve thought of it.”
Another bout of mirth spreads joy around the recording booth, and Yoongi shares a look with the singer before they both nod.
“Let’s see how it sounds.”
“K.”
Proud and adrenaline-filled, he turns to walk back to the door, head so buzzed he doesn’t know what to do. But when Yoongi can’t see into the control room anymore, he misses a stare through the glass.
A stare that lingers on him just a little too long.
The rest of the session goes smooth, and Yoongi’s relieved that they haven’t asked him for anything else.
After all. He doesn’t wanna push it, or step on Jungkook’s toes. What happened in the recording room only went down because you would have scolded him for not seizing that moment. And the suggestion he gave was lauded after the next take.
It was the first time since you kissed him goodbye that he felt a healthy pulse in his chest. Despite the chaos of the morning, amid the thoughts and worries penetrating his brain, you reached out and kept him steady in just the right moment.
Fuck being his good luck charm. You give guardian angels shame and you don’t even know it.
“Okay, we’ll take ten after this.”
Jungkook holds up an arm while agreeing, “Okay! We’ll save what we got!”
Yoongi’s scanning the tracks when he feels hovering over his shoulder, and he already knows it’s the kid without looking. “Sup.”
“Nothing.”
“You sure.”
At this, Jungkook pauses before he sighs. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he clearly lies.
But Yoongi will let him figure out whether to run with that or not. He seems a little bothered about something, and it very well could be what happened in the booth. This is work, and they’re both adults. If he wants to talk about something, Yoongi will gladly have that conversation.
Suddenly, a vibration erupts in his hoodie pocket, and his phone is fished out without him even thinking.
Hustler: Incoming C—
Shit. You wouldn’t call him at work unless it’s urgent. Which is quickly throwing any possible theories about your brother not knowing out the window.
But fuck, he can’t answer yet. There’s no way. Not only is he in very close range to someone you don’t wanna speak to right now, but he’d get blasted for being on his phone during a session. Hoping you can wait just two more minutes, Yoongi turns the buzzing off within his hoodie pocket, anxiously waiting for the take to start.
Hoping to everything that Jungkook didn’t happen to see what was on his screen.
As soon as everyone looks pleased—three takes and thirty minutes later—Yoongi quickly excuses himself from the control room. His head practically overheats on the way out back, but the gust of morning breeze serves to soothe it some.
It’s been chilly lately. A bit grey. But whatever the weather has been outside, it’s no match for the atmosphere of his brain.
Pulling his hood over hair he hasn’t cut in months, Yoongi looks around before ringing you up. Hoping that you’re good and didn’t have to go through a version of his panic earlier.
Hustler: Outgoing Call
Straight to voicemail? Shit.
Hustler: Outgoing Call
Fuck, still voicemail. Are you okay? On the phone with someone else? Did your brother actually end up finding out and things are worse than he thought? Clutching his phone, Yoongi glances up while giving it slight shakes, body on alert while deciding what the hell to do now.
Maybe he can at least text you to ask what the hell happened this morning? Typing. Erasing. Retyping. Retrying.
Yoongi [9:02]: Got a session today, doll.
That’s what he had to say? That won’t do you any good, the fuck? Berating himself with a sigh, he takes a few steps while texting a follow-up.
Yoongi [9:03]: Still going, but are you good?
Staring, it takes him a few seconds to decide if this is enough. If these two messages are gonna suffice to help him figure out what the hell he’s getting into later.
It’s not. There’s too much he needs to know.
Hustler: Outgoing Call
When it doesn’t ring a third time, Yoongi gives up, cursing before turning and raking his hood off in distress.
Only to see Woosung materializing out of nowhere—relaxed, silent, and taking a drag.
Shit. How much of that did he witness?
“Been there,” the man empathizes, blowing out smoke into crisp morning. After a swell of early traffic fills the alleyway, he continues, “In trouble?”
Great. With a sound of dejection, Yoongi answers to a stack of random boxes, “Might be.”
“Don’t wanna commit anymore?”
“I do,” Yoongi blurts without hesitation, looking right into eyes that have seen plenty more than he has.
And it’s the first time he’s admitted anything out loud. To a stranger miles above him in status, no less. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he clarifies, “It’s just… There’s something I need to do first.”
Wait a sec. Why the fuck is he talking about this so freely? This isn’t something he does. Privacy is practically his brand. So why is it easy to talk to this guy? It’s him, for fuck’s sake. But what’s done is done. Woosung probably won’t even remember this conversation even happened, or is already annoyed as hell he didn’t get a good read on him.
To Yoongi’s surprise, his alley companion speaks again after another white wisp. “Mmm… Something you need to do?”
Well. Yoongi walked right into this one. Swallowing and knowing he can’t dip out, he sighs, “Some shit I wanna finish.” The smell of tobacco wafts around him when he looks at dulled skies. “Shit I need to get through.”
An amused hum floats through empty space. “Been there, too.”
Yoongi slowly turns to regard his client, watching as Woosung becomes very interested in wet concrete.
What kind of shit has this guy seen? Surely, he could have had some of the same experiences. The slight droop in his confident shoulders tells enough. But would he understand the exact same situation?
No. At least, Yoongi hopes not. Quite fucking frankly, he hopes no one has had to go through the same shit that he has.
“Let me know if you ever need help,” Woosung offers, shocking Yoongi to the point of speechlessness. As he drops his cigarette to squash it out, he runs a hand through wild dark locks. “We’ll be around again.”
Wait. What? Yoongi can only blink. “Serious?”
“Yeah.” The man looks down the outside corridor, watching as people start heading to their jobs through a central courtyard. “Got a good feeling about this place.”
What does he mean by that. What can Woosung possibly mean by that what does he mean they’ll be back? To the studio? To the city? What’s happening. Yoongi simply lets a pause prevail before offering the only response he’s capable of,
“It’s the food next door, huh.”
That laugh has got to be top five in the world. Not as great as yours, but definitely up there in terms of what makes Yoongi feel like things are alright. Not that he’d ever admit that shit to anyone. Ever.
Mercifully, the conversation moves away from risky topics. Instead, there are talks about a tour one is planning for his band’s album, mixed in with mentions of equipment the other is saving up for. Then the rest isn’t about music at all.
Finally, it’s time for them to continue recording, so they know to head back inside. “Don’t wait,” Woosung advises as he turns on his heel.
And Yoongi can only stare somewhere else.
“If there’s something you need to get through...”
Stare, and stare, and stare some more.
“Hit it until it breaks.”
Because he’s already aware. More than anyone.
As Woosung shuts the back door, Yoongi’s gaze finds the crushed cigarette at his side. Another reminder of how things were.
And a reminder that he’s still a fucking coward.
Hours later, Yoongi’s car awaits him in the lot.
And when he realizes that you still haven’t responded, he shuts his door just a little too hard.
Whenever his friend comes over for drinks, it’s always the same routine.
Both of them don’t talk much, instead opting for a quiet greeting before someone dumps themselves on the couch while the other grabs a bottle and cups in the kitchen. As soon as glasses are filled, conversation sparks as a game plays out on tv—or a sportscasting show if nothing interesting is airing.
But this time? None of it happens that way. Because when Yoongi opens his door, he’s pinned with a shadowed visage he's only seen piercing through others.
And the whole arctic starts to seep into his bloodstream.
Raising a brow and giving space is his chosen course of action. Best to not disturb a beast if they’re already ready to lunge.
And his friend eyes him as he stalks into the house, scanning around in search of something—living room, dining table, even looking into the open doorway of the bedroom.
Fuck. Relax. Don’t assume anything until things are on the table. Yoongi has got to pretend like tonight is normal and fine and that he’s obviously and positively not seeing and sleeping with his friend’s little sister.
And that he most definitely didn’t eat you out where your brother is sitting now motherfucker he needs a drink. Or a smoke. Or both with a plane ticket out of the whole country.
At least the television is already on. If it wasn’t for that ambiance, Yoongi’s head would be jam packed with every goddamn sound known to man. Including the adorable way you talk in your sleep, and how you strain so beautifully when you come fuck, fuck, fuck! Focus.
What’s happened has happened. And what’s going to happen will happen. Whether it’s a consequence of his actions, or nothing to do with any of this at all.
But when faced with everything smushing together at once? Yoongi will probably need to be revived no matter what the outcome. This is the most stressed out he’s been in years.
Not only that, but his stress is more than obvious. Even now in the kitchen, he’s scanning through his bottles with a finger—an action he’s never done while sober since the choices are always predictable. Holy shit, he needs to pull it together.
Has he ever been this panicked? Does he appear just as chaotic and disjointed as he feels? This is too new. This is very new and if he doesn’t regain control there’s no telling where this foreign road leads.
But the silence still remains as he turns. And apparently the road hits a dead end at his dining table. Since it’s occupied rather than the living room sofa.
Sighing, Yoongi ambles to his friend, placing everything down with clinks and ignoring the way his furniture is getting burned through. Both whisky’s are ready. Yoongi’s already holding his. And your brother still hasn’t moved a muscle. Honestly, what the fuck is going on with—
“I went to Jimin’s last night.”
…What.
Don’t react. He’s staring. Don’t fucking react. Take a drink. A sip. Pick up the goddamn glass. Doing so, Yoongi slowly brings the liquid to his lips, not quite following his own instructions as he asks behind a barrier, “How was it.”
His question is met with a laugh that isn’t funny at all. The kind that drags a finger along the chalkboard of your soul. And the next question directed his way pulverizes Yoongi’s denial,
“Care to share what’s been going on?”
He’s sick. Beyond sick. The room is closing in and closing in too fucking fast. Shit shit shit. There’s no way he saw. No fucking way. He parked down the street he deliberately stopped as far away as possible and you saw your brother’s car in your driveway. Did he get there after you left? And didn’t see you while also not hearing from hi—
“Why her, Yoong? Hmm?”
Fuck!
Yoongi can’t feel the air in his lungs. Because there isn’t any. Just a barren wasteland of shriveled futures and cracks in the foundation of every relationship he’s had in his whole life. The millisecond before a crash and only his wheels spinning and spinning and spinning—
Your brother shoots out of the chair, making the glass in Yoongi’s palm feel infinitely more solid.
“I mean, fuck! After all the shit we’ve been through? You’re gonna go back to her?”
All the—shit, he can’t even—back to? Back to you? What does he mean by back to you? Does he know about the first ti—
Volcanic, the man interrogating paces beside the dining table. Back and forth, back and forth. A pause. Back and forth.
And Yoongi still feels frozen in time. Is this it? Is this when things come crashing down? Glass suspends in midair all around him; an orchestra trembles beneath his feet, waiting for the moment to rip into his rib cage with swift strokes and a flourish as he’s taken down.
“Can’t fucking believe you.”
When Yoongi finally chooses to speak, what comes out only feels like a horrible attempt more than anything else, “Listen, it’s my fau—”
“What, you just decided to fuck that bitch again? Couldn’t stay away?”
Oh, fuck that.
Wood scrapes into flooring as Yoongi vacates his chair, hard feet planted as he gets into the face of his best friend, his confidant, his day one. Only to speak so low only them two can hear, “How bout you use your fucking words already and I’ll tell you.”
“Yeah? Is that what you want?” They are only a breath apart. But no one’s going anywhere now. “Need me to spell it out for that fuckass brain of yours—”
“Say it—”
“Stop fucking your ex, dude!”
Yoongi’s back connects with the chair behind him, palms flinging back to brace himself through a jolt of pain. And his eyes go so wide they stretch at the edges.
…Motherfucker, what?
Your brother is not done in the slightest, but Yoongi can only stare as he’s being berated for something that is one-hundred percent news to him, too.
“Everyone was happy when you finally left. All of us. Only for you to go and, what, get back with her?”
Nothing makes sense. This isn’t about you? Yoongi’s heart can’t even reset to start beating again. Everything is coming as shock after shock and there’s no way he can keep up at this pace.
His ex? Her? Where the fuck did that come from and why the hell does he of all people think that’s actually true?
“If you’re gonna be with her, you can count me out.”
No. Never again. That would never, ever happen again. “The fuck are you even saying—”
“I’m not fucking joking, Yoong. If you’re seriously back with her then—”
“Look, I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not.”
“So everything I heard was a lie?”
“Huh?”
“He told me!”
He—who? Who the fuck would say that? And when how what the fuck and why? Yoongi stares, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Because he has a choice to make. Either he trudges into this lie and rubs sludge all over his bones, or he denies it like he wants because it’s not fucking true.
What the actual fuck. It’s already bad enough that someone sent this along the rumor mill. And it’s making him sick thinking about all the implications surrounding it. But it’s even worse that his best friend believes it so easily. He’s coming at him so quick without even asking if it’s true.
The only silver lining—the singular bright spot in this hellhole—is that he can use it as an out. An out to protect you from wrath and further fury from your older sibling because if you were the rumor? He’d be laid flat on his floor next to a broken dining set.
“You gonna say anything or what?”
Truthfully, Yoongi feels queasy knowing what he’s gonna do. But it’s for you. You, you, you. And for that, Yoongi will do anything.
Even if it kills him.
“No, I, umm…”
“No?”
Just hurry up and fucking do it.
Resigned, Yoongi lets the memories flood through. Every moment that’s haunted him from a distance charges forward as he surrenders to the pain of his past. “It’s—” Fuck, he can’t even begin to lie, head thundering, thundering, striking his heart in the rain. “I...”
His friend halts. Tense before his shoulders fall back to normal. “You what.”
What the fuck does Yoongi do? What can he say when his brain is only firing up to beg him to run? Technically, he doesn’t have to say anything. He really doesn’t. But he can deflect. It’s what he’s best at, after all. He’s been doing it to you and he will do it again.
In the most defeated voice he can muster, Yoongi comes up with something that will placate his friend while still prolonging this horrid fib, “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“You sure?”
It’s true. More true than anything. “It’s over now.”
A century passes. Then another. Then another. Every piece of furniture waits in silence as the television seeps back into his ears.
Then his friend sighs, not looking back as he slumps into the same chair that you always occupy. And Yoongi hopes his sigh of conflicted relief isn’t witnessed.
Following suit, he rubs his lower back before taking his regular seat again, not giving any shits about waiting to drink.
His ex?
As his throat warms, Yoongi starts to harden the more memories keep crashing into each other like jagged waves fuck he really hates how she was brought into this he swears as soon as he figures out who said this he is going to—
“Sorry.” Haze shattered, he lifts his gaze. “I’m so fucking stressed and hearing that last night just…”
“It’s done.” Yoongi reaches for the thick bottle, pouring more into his glencairn. Wanting to talk about literally anything else, he diverts the conversation, “But something else is up with you so say it.”
It works. The man inhales deep, rubbing his face with weary hands. When he rests elbows on wood, he finally talks about other things clouding his mind,
“Work is shit,” he groans downward. “They’re having me travel again.”
“Domestic?”
“Yeah. But for longer. And I don’t…” Tapering off, he sits back, slowly playing with his glass. As if he doesn’t want to mention the next problem.
When he finally does, Yoongi wholeheartedly understands the hesitation, “I dunno know what’s going on with my sister.”
Oh. Fuck, how the hell does he respond? Keeping his cool, Yoongi just repeats the question, taking out his phone and pretending to check his screen. “Your sister?”
“Yeah.” A sigh is sandwiched between explanations. “The past few months, I feel like.. They haven’t really been themselves.”
A sudden crack splits him through.
“Not laughing. Not eating as much. Like even when they sound happy, I can tell it’s a front.. I don’t know.”
The clunk of his phone hits the table very hard.
No. No, no, no. Your texts have been so positive. So encouraging. Other than a few sad calls, you’ve been happy to hear from him just as he had been relieved to hear from you. Even in the car, you must’ve put your feelings lightly.
Your wings. You’ve been enduring all that? For him? Yoongi’s heart rears its head, snagging one of his breaths and slamming both lungs into the floor.
And hatred paints his heart another shade darker.
“They finally went out last night, but. Didn’t come back until this morning.” Running rigid hands through his head, the man looks so pained. So helpless. “Same clothes, dude.”
And Yoongi can only stare, feigning nonchalance but raging and tearing himself apart inside. “Mm.”
“I just… I know I suck at this, but. I don’t know what the hell to do. Or if I even do anything.” Your brother finally takes a swig, wincing at how much ethanol coats his tongue.
Relax, relax, relax. As much as he wants to erupt on himself right now, Yoongi has to stay calm.
Not like he doesn’t know how. That’s usually how he operates, anyway. It’s hard to tell he’s struggling unless you look deep enough. And almost no one thinks to do so because his surface is all they want.
But right now? He doesn’t think he can sequester this anger any longer. At him, his past, and his stupid present decisions.
“Like I tried to say something but I just.. I felt like if I push too hard, they’re gonna shut down even more. Ever since that fight with Kook, it’s like..”
Seeing an opening and keeping a neutral stance, Yoongi asks the most ironic question to date, “Are they seeing someone?”
At this, his friend shakes his head, eyes glued to dark amber liquid. When he answers, all the breaths in the world cut at once,
“I think she feels all alone.”
This hit is the strongest. Straight to the gut, breath stuttering and muscles clenching so hard they lock. It’s almost severe enough to affect how Yoongi feels around his eyes.
“And it sucks not knowing what to do.”
Yoongi’s heart lurches, deflating and slipping out of the crack in his chest. Piercing on the jagged edges before slumping down onto a table that continues to judge him.
You’re hurting. Your brother’s hurting. And it’s all his goddamn fault. Why can’t he just break free and admit shit? Why is he still haunted by the phantoms of his past? Why is he still so fucking weak? It’s clear that he hurt you. For months. You’ve been cheering for him that whole time while you’ve been visibly broken and it’s all because of his dumbass decision to—
“I’m heading out again.”
Yoongi raises his eyes. Because he can’t seem to move anything else. “When.”
Your older sibling takes a slower, more measured sip. Looking towards the channel playing in the living room, he answers, “After our game. Dinner Friday, game on Saturday, fly out Sunday.”
“Mm. We’ll still be here,” Yoongi assures, keeping things as normal and neutral as he can. “Just like last time.”
How ironic. How hypocritical. He hasn’t been there for you in the slightest so how the fuck can he say that with a straight face.
“Thanks. I know it’s a lot for y’all but..”
Not at all. Yoongi is more determined than ever to make everything up to you. It’s the least he can do after putting you through something he decided on the fly.
On the run.
“Don’t worry about that,” he vows into his drink. Honestly, if you’ve been having second thoughts about this whole thing, he doesn’t blame you. Absolutely doesn’t blame you if you realize you’re better than this. But Yoongi’s at least gonna apologize in every single way he can. As soon as he possibly can. “We got it.”
“K.” The man finishes his glass and goes to pour more. “Did I ever mention that she liked you?”
Now what— Coughing on whisky is a bitch and a half. Hitting his chest while both eyes squint from burn, Yoongi croaks out his exact thoughts, “What.”
At this, his friend finally breaks into his regular smile. Setting the bottle down with a hollow clunk, he points, “Don’t you fucking get any ideas. Jimin’s already on my shit list.” He scoffs out a laugh. “But it was obvious when we were younger.”
And Yoongi can only cough some more. He shakes his head through the sting, swallowing and trying to compose himself. He doesn’t know where the hell that came from, but he hopes your brother will understand when all is said and done. Even though he’s been the reason you’ve been so…
Yoongi almost fucking confesses.
“You’re a good person,” he blurts instead. Whether the guilt or last cough pushed it out, that’s still on the table. “You don’t suck at what you think you do.”
“You think so?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
The hell? Does this dude really not see how successful he is? How much he’s overcome and conquered and sacrificed? Truthfully, Yoongi wouldn’t be where he is today if not for your brother. Him. Jimin. You. Anybody. Which is what makes this ongoing betrayal…
Unprecedented.
“You’re the best out of all of us.”
Your brother finally looks at him, though Yoongi isn’t doing the same. But he can still tell when a fist is held out for him to bump, so he does.
And they both share a drink in respectful silence.
After a moment of them watching the tv, the man finally sighs. “Guess we did shape up pretty nice.” When he’s agreed with, he keeps going with a grin. “We were so fucking bad.”
Yoongi can only chuckle, much better memories fighting off the terrors. “Old me was a little shit.”
“You still are.”
“Says you!”
“I still am, too!”
Laughs precede big swigs of whisky and comfortable quiet. Bit by bit, shoulders start to relax with the surrounding air, and Yoongi lazily releases tension in his neck.
After a few more pours, your brother decides to call it, using the bathroom before announcing that he’s gonna head out. Yoongi gets up from his chair to clasp hands goodbye, not expecting to hear one more plea,
“Break up with her, Yoong.”
Shit. He sighs, and their conversation continues from the dining table to the front door. “It’s not like that.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s over now.”
“For good?” As they stop beside the coat closet, your brother pins him with a look. “I was about to drive over and break down the door.”
Even though Yoongi shares a tsk with him, he can’t help but imagine what could’ve happened if that was the case. And it sends an unwanted jolt of chills.
“Serious. I’m gonna keep saying this, but. she was just making you miserable, dude.” He slips on his shoes, smacking his foot on the ground to push one in place. “I’m sure it was good at first, but I mean… You gotta move on. You deserve better than that.”
Anything would be better than that. Yoongi just disagrees with the whole deserving part. “I guess.”
“You sure it’s over?”
“Yeah,” he assures, because that is something he intends to keep true forever. “It is.”
“Good.” Keys jingling, your sibling then points into the open area with his whole arm, seven words leaving his mouth like ice,
“Then get rid of that fucking guitar.”
Ah. Among all the things. Of course he would bring that up, too. Jaw working, Yoongi looks away, now assaulted by all the torturous thoughts surrounding that painful reminder and fighting them off with no success.
Get rid of it? He’s been trying.
For three. Fucking. Months.
“I might.”
“…K.”
And his best friend departs, leaving Yoongi inside and staring at the same black spot he’s kept in the corner for years. It has mocked him as he struggles. Laughed at him whenever he’s tried to throw it out. And aside from the times he’s made you feel better stinging himself on those strings, he has accomplished nothing except letting it win.
Pissed off and doused in guilt, Yoongi yanks himself away from the door, the instrument, and everything else except for his bed.
Keeping his shadow exactly where it stands.
Yoongi knows he needs to talk to you.
But his phone exists somewhere on the other side of his bedroom door.
And he doesn’t have the strength to go get it.
What time is it?
All that greets him is darkness.
Nothing new, but darkness all the same.
Why was she mentioned? What does that mean?
He needs to call you. He’s lying to his best friend.
Her? You. His sheets still smell like you.
Inhale. Breathe. Inhale.
He needs to call you. But he’s so, so tired.
And the darkness pulls him back under.
Without even telling him the time.
Buzzing.
Faint, gentle buzzing softly lifts Yoongi’s eyelids before a loud series of smacks causes him to rush out of bed what the fuck?
Oh. His phone fell outside. Fucking hell, his heart’s beating way too quick for that to be the only thing that happened.
Head in his hands, Yoongi sighs deep before making his way to the dining table. And it takes all of his strength to bend down to reach for his phone.
Hustler: Missed Calls (6)
Dumbass: 1 Message
Hustler: 3 Messages
Chim: 7 Messages
Chim: Missed Calls (3)
Holy fuck.
With only the light of his phone illuminating the dark, Yoongi rings Jimin up. His heart’s a little disappointed it wasn’t you calling just now, but it’s probably best to stay away while his brain is so scattered and torn.
“Oh, fuck. There you are.”
“Mm.”
“Don’t scare me like that, bro. I was starting to get ready to drive over—”
“It’s fine,” he juts in. “What’s up.”
Alright, maybe he shouldn’t be an asshole. There’s no reason to let his lingering shadow from earlier control his temper now. Jimin’s just being himself, for fuck’s sake.
“I, umm. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
Now that’s not what Yoongi expected at all. “For what?”
There’s another pause on the line, and his reaction is immediate when he knows for a fact Jimin is fighting back tears.
“I… I got so drunk last night, I—And I—”
Shit. A sinking feeling starts to weigh Yoongi down, his center pulling the rest of him in like a black hole. And he doesn’t need to hear the rest of this to know what this call is about.
“He was looking for her, Yoong, and you weren’t there, either. He had this look, I—I couldn’t think of anything else to say in the moment and I told him—”
Jimin can’t even finish his confession. And it hits right in the gut.
Despite his perceived persona, Yoongi doesn’t like hearing people cry. At least, if they don’t deserve to or don’t deserve to be sad—or if they’re you. He could care less about the rest.
But Jimin is one of the only people that can get him like this: eyes stinging at their edges and his chest concave. In the dark, though, no one can tell. No one can see him.
So he can openly swipe at his eyes before dumping tired limbs into a chair, catching his forehead in a damp palm.
“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”
Exhaling through his nose, Yoongi tries his best to calm his emotions. Because they are still raging and it’s going to take all of him to quell this tempest.
Jimin knows more than anyone what this means to him. To you. The time you spent apart? If it wasn’t for his friend, Yoongi may have been in a much different position. If this was the only thing Park could do, then his effort has to be acknowledged. It worked like a fucking charm.
But goddamn, Yoongi wishes Jimin thought of literally anything else. He could’ve made up some random, some fling from another city, the damn studio itself.
“Don’t worry about it,” he finally rasps out. “It’s just been a fuckin’ day.”
Jimin sniffles before cursing at himself and, judging by the sounds on the line, Yoongi figures he’s opening his fridge. If he reaches for soju, that would not be surprising in the least, and now that sounds like a good idea.
“Same. Gah, I just… I should’ve warned you. I didn’t know he went over there.”
“He told you?”
“I called him after you didn’t answer earlier.”
“Oh. Yeah, I passed out after he left.”
“Ah.”
Something shuts before there’s a crisp clink on the line, validating exactly what Yoongi was thinking.
“I really am sorry. What did you end up saying?”
“That it’s done.”
A hum.
“That’s very true.”
There’s a question that Yoongi thinks to ask. Context that he needs. But as important as this information is, Yoongi doesn’t feel like talking about it right now. Or ever. But now still counts. So he switches the conversation over to something less daunting, “Practice still on tomorrow?”
When Jimin laughs out of surprise, it gives Yoongi the smallest kick of energy.
“Ah, someone actually ready to go for once?”
“Yeah. The plan is to make this game quick.”
A hearty swallow spills out of the speaker before a hum follows,
“Mm, that reminds me. Got something that might help with that.”
What the hell does that even mean? “Huh?”
“I’ll bring it over tomorrow. You might find some good uses for it.”
Yoongi rubs the grogginess still clinging to his face. “All these years and you’ve never given me a straight answer.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Knowing the answer.”
At least Jimin’s back in a good mood. Or a better state than puffy-eyed and regretful. He doesn’t have to share the pain in this, too. It was an honest mistake.
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Annoying.”
“Love you, too!”
Yoongi’s huff billows through his nose, and Jimin’s energy almost brings enough strength for him to clear the table.
Ehh. He’ll leave it alone. He’s been pretty good at that lately, too, no matter how early or late it is in the night. What time even is it? Checking his phone, Yoongi’s brows crease when he figures that out. Why the hell are they even on a call right now? “Wait, is it really three?”
“Huh? Yeah. I’m telling you, dude, I was getting worried.”
He was really about to drive over? “Sorry. I really did just pass out.”
“Mm. Well, I’m gonna go do that now.”
“K. Same time tomorrow?”
“Ah, a little earlier. Just so I can give this to you before everyone else shows.”
That just makes Yoongi infinitely more curious. “Seriously, what did you get?”
“Relax! You will like it.”
“Chim, I swear—”
“You’ll thank me later bye!”
As soon as Jimin disappears from the line, Yoongi is left alone again.
Exactly where he always ends up.
Exactly where he doesn’t want to be.
But now that he’s done dealing with those notifications, Yoongi roams lidded eyes over his screen again.
Wait. You called him six times? Fuck. What did you text? Were you wondering where he was, too?
Hustler [20:01]: HOLY FUCK!! my phone died after i tried calling you this morning and i just fully woke up to charge it😭 he’s not home so call whenever
Yoongi clutches his phone a little tighter.
He very much would’ve rather been in your bed with you all day.
That sounds like fucking bliss.
Hustler [23:37]: tried calling but he’s home now. are you ok?? idk what’s going on with him but i think we need to be careful
Shit, Yoongi didn’t get to tell you. You’ve probably been worried about that every second you’ve been awake today.
And he couldn’t even make it out of his goddamn room to help.
All he comes with is worries for you. What kind of shit is this? What is he even doing? He even outright told you that you were dating only for that to be ripped from your hands for months. Why are you still giving someone like him a chance?
Hustler [23:40]: but all i wanna do is see you
Fucking hell.
Nothing in the world can stop his heartbeat quite like you can. With that smile, or those eyes, or the simple shit like this. Not even lightning can strike him the same way.
Despite the consistency Yoongi has with admitting his own shortcomings, and despite the way he keeps reminding himself he doesn’t deserve you…
All he wants to do is see you, too.
You’ve been more than he ever would’ve imagined—your consideration, your intellect, your mind. And there have been times when you’d look at him as if he was the center of your galaxy.
After all this time. All these days and nights.
You still don’t realize that he was destined to orbit you.
It’s been decided long before his mind was made up—at least, the part of him that doesn’t traverse the dark side. His heart had been tugging him to you ever since that rainy day, no matter where he’s drifted or which direction he’s gone in. All of them lead back into your arms.
But just like the feeling he gets walking into the recording booth, imposter syndrome eats him alive and doubt scavenges on what’s left.
He will never be good enough for you. One of these days, you will realize that you don’t have to settle for him. It’s good now, but you’ll only give him so many chances, which he is swiftly running through at breakneck speeds.
How fucking stupid. Having these thoughts while wanting nothing more than to hear your voice.
Just like everyone else, you’ll eventually be done passing through. His winter will return after your inevitable departure, all the warmth you give focused on something else that deserves it more.
Something that isn’t broken.
Yoongi whips his head up at the sound of buzzing, noticing thin lines of light beneath his phone on the table.
What. No way.
From the rapid beats inside his chest, he shoots his hopes right into the dark.
And they burst into beautiful sparks when he reads his screen.
Hustler: Incoming Call
But just like the streaks of color he witnessed with you on that balcony, his brightness is short lived. Because as soon as Yoongi answers, the way your throat constricts scorches his windpipe through.
And the first thing you attempt to get through makes his eyes shut tight.
“Are we… is this over?”
Fuck.
“I get it, if we are. If you—if you don’t wanna do this with me anymore.”
Fuck. Fuck everything this is not happening right now. “Hold up,” Yoongi breathes, body on full alert. “What’s going on?”
“I thought… When you weren’t picking up, I—”
“Breathe, babe,” Yoongi softens, hating, hating, hating himself all over again. “I passed out before you called. That’s it.”
“Oh. Shit, I really thought—”
“You would know,” he whooshes, syllables squeezed out by the mountain of regret on his back. After hearing what he put you through? Hearing how you sound now? There’s no way he can do that shit again. No more disappearing from the grid because he can’t fight himself. “You would know if I was done.”
Your sniffle sinks the ship with his heart inside.
“Are you? With me?”
Yoongi folds, fingers digging through his hair and blocking it in hard chunks. The amount of things he wants to say to you could wrap the whole world before repeating. But he settles with a truth he can say out loud,
“No way in hell, doll.”
Please. Don’t cry. Because he can only handle feeling his eyes sting so much in one night. There’s only so much he can take before he’s grabbing his keys and speeding over—friends and brothers be damned.
“Okay… I’m just. It’s been a day.”
That’s okay.
Because he’s had a day, too.
“I don’t wanna bother you with it, though, it’s so late.”
Please keep going.
Please don’t leave him alone.
“Talk to me.”
Like a gentle stream, your recap—though not ideal—washes away the weariness from Yoongi’s eyes. Lifts the weight he bears on his shoulders, even if just a little bit.
You’re so good at that.
“Well. Umm. He saw me coming home this morning. And, umm. It was weird. I don’t know why but I think we have to be really careful. And ugh, it—. It sucks because he’s going on a trip soon and I don’t wanna stress him out even more but I—”
Shit, you’ve probably been holding all of this in ever since you got up. You don’t know that your brother believes something entirely different. But of course you’d be considerate, even now. That’s just who you are.
“I, umm. I feel so fucking bad about it but I don’t wanna mess him up right now. Or maybe he knows but just won’t say it? Fuck, sorry, I’m trying not—to—”
The phone goes mute, and Yoongi’s head suddenly weighs ten times heavier.
“He doesn’t know, babe,” he soothes, hating how he can’t be there to comfort you with more than his word and waves in the sky.
If he was stronger, things could be different by now. Vastly different. Vastly better. You would cry less, he knows that for damn sure. Weak, weak, weak. That’s all he fucking is.
The only one he seems to be strong for is you. “He came over earlier.”
“Fuck, really?”
“Yeah.”
You pause, seemingly to roll this information around that beautiful mouth of yours, and Yoongi has the strongest yearning to kiss all your worries right out of it.
“What did he say?”
Shit. You’ll just have to forgive him later. Because Yoongi chooses not to tell the whole truth. You don’t need to bear the same worries as him, anyway. They aren’t yours. He will shoulder all of those on his own. Because he’s the reason for them in the first place. “Nothing about us.”
“Oh, thank fuck.”
Good. Your relief is all that matters. But Yoongi still feels bad for not being able to pick himself up. You could’ve known that a lot sooner if he was stronger. If he was better. “So don’t worry, doll.”
“Okay. What about you? Are you okay?”
Huh? Your questions catch him completely off-guard. It’s almost comical how his first reaction goes straight to a No. But sticking to his earlier stances, he won’t bother you with any of that. There is a truth that he can admit. One that’s always true and will continue to be so. “Just wanna see you.”
And this is when his eyes slowly shut. Don’t. Don’t cry.
“Me, too, baby.”
Hearing that? Chipped and broken from your lips? That is another thing Yoongi can’t handle. His heart beats once before it free falls, and he clutches his phone just a little tighter.
Fuck everything. He’s gonna find a way to do this. All of it.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“You will?”
He’ll figure out how to move mountains to make it up to both you and your brother.
“Just a little longer.”
He has to.
“Okay.”
Neither of you deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve either of you. Truly, the only thing he deserves is to be alone. And judging by the way things are going, it’s only a matter of time before you start resenting this behavior and leave, too.
“Thank you.”
What? Something in Yoongi flickers, and he lifts his whole head to eye his screen.
“For putting up with me.”
Oh. Of course you’d assume you’re the issue. Seems like you need the same type of assurance that he does. Both of you the same? Who would’ve thought his bruised soul would sync up with a perfect one like yours.
At this, he holds his breath before chuckling soft. “This has been the highlight of my day, doll,” he admits, finally breaking into a tiny smile and sitting back.
“Really?”
Wait. There was another good part of his day. But he wants to save that for when he can tell you in person. “One of them. But you’ll hear about the other one later.”
“Boo.”
Cute. Wait, isn’t it absurdly late? You have to be up for work in mere hours. It’s a miracle you reached out when you did. “Don’t you have to be up soon?”
“A ha… Yeah.”
“What are you still talking to me for?”
“I miss you.”
Well. That’s not something that he expected. And your admittance being so immediate actually sends shivers down his arms.
Yoongi can only laugh to himself. He knew he had it bad, but this feeling is something else. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what? Miss you? Yeah, right.”
God. You’re getting too fucking good at this. He’s gotta fight back or else his throne will be taken before he even sees you again. “Just a bad night to say it, doll.”
“Why?”
Perfect. “Cus I’m willing to get in the car.”
“Fuck.”
Yoongi happily lets his mouth slant when you groan, chuckling into the receiver and getting up to clear the table. When he flicks on the kitchen light, he doubles down, “Wanna try again?”
He knows you’re gonna say no. Even though your brother doesn’t know, it’s definitely not a proper time to sneak you out—as much as he fucking wants to. Fuck, to be the one sneaking you out of your house… Maybe there’s another version of you both out there that’s done it. A version of him watching a version of you creeping out to his car, face shining in nightfall and etching a permanent smile into his heart.
“I hate you.”
Yoongi should’ve expected that. The sudden laugh that flings out into his liquor cabinet ricochets off multiple bottles, and he shuts it while sporting a wide grin. “That’s better.”
“Ha ha.”
You’re smiling, too. Cute ass. Just the fact that he knows makes him excited for the future, and he’s determined to make it count. Make it worth it. You deserve every goddamn apology he can give. “I miss you, too, babe,” he whispers, grabbing the glasses from the table to wash in his sink.
“Nu uh! You hate me, too.”
Wait. Did you…
Did you just pout?
Hell no, that’s outright cheating. That’s when Yoongi will never be able to win. Putting the phone down, he promptly states his new plan into a basin, “Nah, I’m going to sleep.”
“Wait, huh? Why!”
“Nothing.”
“I swear to god—”
“Nothing at all,” Yoongi lies, voice straight as he can muster while hot water runs over his hands. It’s a good kind of sting as his chilled skin adjusts, and he cleans one glass before he hears you ask in his ear,
“Getting ready for bed? Or are you in the kitchen?”
The smallest smile graces his face. “Guess.”
“Kitchen.”
The hell? “How’d you know?”
“You’re always in there.”
Can’t deny that. The glasses are both set to dry in the dishwasher as Yoongi’s amusement dies down, and his next comment flows out before he can think much of it, “You like to keep me in here.”
“It does seem to be where we end up, huh?”
“It does.” Which is fine by him. He’ll never forget all the times you’ve been in here. Your laughter and your storms, he will remember them all.
“The world said let them cook.”
Your giggles will be the fucking end of him one day. Fuck, he can’t wait to see you. He may even find a way to see you before the game.
But for now, Yoongi will figure out how to talk to you, every day, no matter what. Texts, calls, whatever the fuck. The effort has got to show from now on. No more of this dark headspace shit. He needs to try harder and figure it out faster. For you.
“Go to sleep, doll,” he huffs with full cheeks.
After another adorable batch of sounds, you rustle on the line before sighing,
“You better sleep, too.”
“I will.”
With a blink, Yoongi notices two things. One, he just cleared his table and cleaned up without even thinking. And two, despite feeling like absolute shit the entire day and dreading the coming of night, falling asleep won’t be an issue.
Because of you. It’s always you.
Maybe there’s a way out. Maybe he can finally face it all and come out on the other side. “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”
“I’d like that. And you’re sure he doesn’t know?”
Just like that, the demons are knocking again. Closing his eyes, Yoongi murmurs into the receiver, “I’m sure.”
There will come a time when he will tell you. But that will be way in the future, when he is ready. For now, you’ll just have to trust that he’s telling the truth. Not the whole truth, but enough for it to calm your nerves.
“Okay. Good night, baby.”
One more heartbeat to get him through the night.
“Night, doll.”
When the phone cuts, Yoongi’s hand falls, his stare shifting straight to the living room.
Right towards the corner that stares back.
It’s been five days.
But it feels like you’ve aged twenty-eight years.
Ever since your brother confronted you—after your much needed reunion with his best friend—you’ve been floating through time. Lost. Confused. Wondering why that conversation went the way it did and gnawing at your sanity bit by bit.
And even though Yoongi explicitly told you he didn’t say anything concerning your relationship, you still haven’t shaken that feeling. No matter where you are, who you’re with, or on a pretty Friday like this one, you feel… Strange.
When you saw your brother waiting, you for sure thought you were gonna get grilled. It was a given you were gonna break as soon as he started asking deeper and more specific questions. The fallout was gonna happen in your own house right at your door.
…So what in the fuck was that?
You shift your legs, the chill of the office failing to comfort you in your manufactured, building distress.
Somehow, that version of the conversation proved much, much worse. Because now you’re spiraling trying to figure out why he just took your lie as the truth. Truthfully, you feel nauseous. And as much as you need to get some semblance of closure, you still feel hesitant. Because if he’s just biding time? He’s not just thinking about what to do with you.
He’s thinking about what to do with Yoongi, too.
This is so hard.
The only thing—the only thing—keeping you grounded. Is Yoongi himself.
Ever since the call you never thought he’d answer, you’ve been contacted every night. What was once days of radio silence quickly shifted to him reaching out however he could, hours of the day be damned. Just last night, in fact, Yoongi sent you texts at four in the morning, and you beam just thinking about what he said so casually.
Yoongi [3:57am]: That keyboard I told you about is fucking dope. Just got it today and it won’t let me sleep lmaooo
Yoongi [3:58am]: I was gonna say sorry for texting but fuck it you’re getting all the updates :)
No matter what it is, be it a text, call, or video chat, Yoongi seems fully committed and in the moment. Present. And it’s been… Really nice. If you didn’t have your brother’s shadow hovering over your brain, life would be practically perfect.
Forcing yourself to actually work, you manage to get some small things done. Even the meeting you attend goes smoothly and you leave any outside worries on the other side of those glass walls.
So when you get back to your desk, an awaiting paper bag makes you pause. And your whole body prepares to weep.
Only one person has ever sent you food while you’re at work. And staring inside the parcel, you would’ve been able to tell who it was from even if said person had never sent any before.
There’s a small note on top of a to-go container—one that you immediately recognize as that super good restaurant next to Jungkook’s studio.
What the hell? How did Yoongi know you wanted some this whole week but didn’t wanna risk being so close? With careful fingers, you pluck the tiny paper from the bag, opening it with care before your eyes get so teary eyed you can’t even read.
Tonight.
This man.
I got the next one.
This wonderful, charming man.
But you’re getting what I need so here’s the list:
Goddamn it, Min Yoongi.
Seeing an actual list of food squeezes a laugh through your throat in a squeak, tears rushing out of your ducts before they’re hastily swiped.
After five days. Yoongi really just sent you on a grocery run to surprise you with another meetup.
The gesture is so him that you cannot help but shake your head, ruefully huffing to no one and pocketing the note in your bag. And all your worries scatter even further.
A dinner before the big game is risky, for sure, but at this point you couldn’t care less. Your brother has his own work outing tonight, anyway, and you are dead set on breaking all of this to him soon.
Even though you are very much unprepared. And he is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn’t know already. Fuck.
You’ve had all five days to think it over. All the possible combinations and possibilities and outcomes. Some of them are extreme, some of them are hopeful. But for a majority of these projections, you have a feeling that none of you are gonna leave it without wounds.
And you don’t know how you’re gonna save both of them if theirs are cut too deep.
Regardless, that’s in the future. Not now. Right now, you are staying in the present and working like molasses until you can jet out the door, nary a care nor concern weighing on your heels.
Tonight. He’s gonna cook for you?
You’ll have the first substantial meal you’ve had in months.
Even though you want nothing more than to see Yoongi, your nerves are still buzzing and bumping into each other nonstop. There’s a lot you still need to know. Like why he was radio silent for months, and why your brother has been a little weird this whole week.
Save it for later. Hopefully Yoongi will tell you why eventually. Or that gap will stay elusive to your brain forever.
Sliding into your car, you dump your bag in the passenger seat before pulling out the list, clutching it close and taking a leap that could either calm your nerves or spike them.
Yoongi: Outgoing Call
When he picks up, you legitimately don’t answer. Because even after all this time, you still can’t quite function when you hear that deep voice addressing you directly.
“Hey.”
All you have to do is say something. Anything. You could rattle off the damn list, stumbling over all the syllables just like they’re currently smushed together in your fingers.
But you don’t snap out of this trance until he speaks again.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” you squeak out, clearing your throat while watching other people walk to their cars. “Hi, sorry. I just umm.”
You just what? Somehow lost all sense of language just from him saying hi? Get it together. Stop that racket in your stomach and say what you were gonna say. “Thank you for the food. I’m off work now so I’m heading to the store.”
He simply huffs a quiet laugh.
“Get whatever you want, too. Just let me know how much it is.”
Huh. Did Yoongi just say all those words in that order? If you heard him right, forget the damn food. You’re close to speeding directly to his place and breaking down the motherfucking door. “Oh, I definitely will,” you respond with instead of hauling ass, the words pushing through your lingering smile. “And don’t worry about that, I got it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah! I got big girl money now.”
Yoongi laughs again on the line, fuller and closer this time. Are you on speaker?
“It’s like that? Maybe I should work there, too.”
“Oh, you’d hate it,” you giggle, scheming hard in your head for tonight already. Pretty bubbles in your ribs lift all your spirits. “I’m actually pretty bossy here.”
The groan that seeps through your car should be illegal.
“That is literally what I’ve been wanting to see.”
It’s your turn to chuckle as you finally make your way out of the parking lot, heading right to the market that you know for a fact has all of what he’s asking for. “I’m only that way at work, though.”
“Do better.”
Your immediate response makes his laugh crunchy in the speakers, and you go along with him because life is good. Life is fucking great right now. “Never mind, you’re paying. And I’m getting stuff for dessert now, too.”
“What? Who said anything about dessert?”
“Me,” you huff out in pride. Since he wants to see that demanding side come out so bad. With a fleeting thought, you think about what it could be like if you end up confident enough to—
“I’m starting to regret this.”
“Regret what?”
“Everything.”
Liar! Your cheeks hurt as you look both ways before making a turn. “Can’t fool me. You’re excited.”
“I am.”
The way there was no hesitation sends shivers up your spine. But it’s partly because you thought you’d be faced with another joke or dig. Not a sudden one-eighty. Stopping at a light, you clear your throat before shyness puffs right out of it. “Well, good,” you state while checking your mirrors. “Cus I am, too.”
“That’s a given, though.”
“Excuse you.”
Yoongi laughs before you hear the sound of cabinets, and you wonder which ones he could be touching.
“Mm, babe. One more thing.”
Can he stop making your heart beat two times at once? “Hmm?”
There’s a little bit of pause, followed by the clank of a pan on metal. When you hear another hum, you wonder what he could possibly—
“I think we’re out of condoms.”
Who is out of what. If you weren’t still at a red, your foot would’ve slammed on the gas because what the fuck! All you can manage out are sounds without substance, random syllables, gibberish. Nothing is computing in your head.
“Wait. Or are we?”
Okay, Yoongi needs to stop with that two-letter word before your behavior turns downright criminal. With as much seriousness as you can manage, you accuse, “Are you just fucking with me?”
And his response launches you forward just as the light turns green,
“Yeah. That’s why we’re out of—”
“Alright!” you cut in, stopping stopping stopping him because for whatever reason, this conversation is too much. Despite seeing this very man naked in many, many ways, just having this talk with him is making you shier than ever before. “Guess I’ll, umm. Get those, too.”
“Nah, you don’t have to.”
“Oh. Found some?”
“No.”
Wait. If he didn’t find some why is he telling you that you don’t have to— “Oh,” you peep in realization. A very sudden, jaw dropping realization. “Goddamn it, you’re too distracting now, bye.”
And he finally breaks with laughter that’s contagious as hell. Which isn’t fair when you’re pretending to be upset with him. Even when you can’t see Yoongi, you can imagine the way his cheeks rise and his eyes crease. The way the whole room illuminates when he’s packed with happiness.
And you want that to be the case forever.
“You’re just lucky I’m not there with you.”
“Yeah, you’d be annoying as hell.”
“Damn!”
As the market comes into view, your teeth shine as you grin, roasting this man quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.
“To be fair,” you start to amend, fingers drumming on the wheel as you decide whether or not to say what you want. After deciding that there’s no wrong answer here, you softly admit, “I really do wanna get groceries with you.”
There’s no words that come out in response. Only the slight movements of shuffling and water running and what could be more cabinets closing. But you don’t really know for sure—
“It’s gonna happen, doll.”
You clutch the wheel.
“Cus I want that, too.”
One of these days you’re gonna see this damn cat again.
Foot connecting with Yoongi’s door, you grunt as multiple bags burden your limbs, pride digging divots along your arms—second trips be damned.
It doesn’t take long for him to let you in anyway, and you swoon at the way he doesn’t even ask while taking some of your baggage. But the kiss on your cheek makes your heart bang into everything between the front door and the kitchen. It’s so distracting that you barely smell the spices greeting you, too.
“Thanks for getting all this,” Yoongi says as you both cross onto tile.
“Of course.” Lifting the much lighter load that you have, you revel in the small thumps and thuds on his counter. Not really knowing why. “Let’s put this up before I yell at you.”
His laugh comes out in hisses while you both start reaching into bags. “For what!”
“Sent me everywhere to find some of this shit.”
“You could’ve asked somebody.”
Feeling a bit silly and high off his presence already, you repeat his words in a goofy mocking tone, and the way he blows out air sends your belly fluttering.
And just like that, things are back to normal again. No worries about your sibling, or work, or anything else looming by the door. Inside is what matters, and the whole apartment fills with jabs and jokes as groceries find their homes.
But Yoongi finds a bag you had separated from the rest, and you snap your mouth shut when he looks inside, something rising in your core when he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. And a smirk so salacious it makes you quiver.
“What about it,” you squeak out, crumbling when he simply takes the bag and flings it through his bedroom door. “You said you—we were out, so…”
“That’s a big box, doll,” he points out on his way to your tightly bitten lip. Mouth slicing through your sanity, he approaches you with a glint in his eyes. “Got something you wanna say?”
“Nope,” you whoosh out oh god he looks way too hot in those sweats wait is that a growing bulge? “Although I will say it took me forever to pick out what—”
Sparks ignite your hands when your lips are claimed, launching them into his shirt and tugging him backward because you’ve been waiting way too long to kiss the shit out of him.
And Yoongi responds in kind, pinning you to his fridge and so, very obvious that he’s been waiting for this, too.
Heaven probably wonders how to replicate this feeling. How to imitate this treasured yearning that only he can pull from the depths of your ocean. Deep, deeper, deepest. All these kisses. Your ascending affection.
“As much as I wanna throw you on my bed,” Yoongi jokes, pulling away and giving your cheek a light tap. “I’m taking you somewhere.”
And you’re so thrown from the impact that your brain mini-resets. “Huh? We’re leaving?”
“Uh huh.”
Hold on. Wait. Is this what he meant when he said he’s getting the next one? You’re going out to eat? Together? No. No, there’s no way. Yoongi knows that’s the worst possible thing to do right now, as much as the idea is sending your belly in a frenzy. “Are you sure? What about dinner? Won’t people… You know.”
“It’s ready already,” he reveals. “By the door.”
Your head snaps to where he points out, even though you can’t see through the bar. “Really?” No wonder it smells like a cooking aftermath. All those smells twirling around your head. How did you not even catch the dishes in the sink?
But hold up, you just bought a shit ton of food! “Then what the hell was the run for?”
Yoongi blinks. Then he does it again. Expression stone still, he responds as if you were privy to his plans this entire time, “I told you to get what I needed.”
Your turn to blink.
“And I needed food.”
This man is going to be the death of you. Affronted, your jaw hangs before you grit through a smile that betrays you, “Oh, you—”
“So thanks,” he quips through another tilt of his lips. “Let’s go, doll.”
The begrudged sound that leaves you makes him kick his head back on the way out the kitchen.
“Eat.”
The container on your thighs warms you through. “Now?”
“Mm.”
“I can wait,” you assure, watching as night paints the surrounding scenery in navy and black. “We can eat together.”
“Just a bite then.”
Turning to Yoongi, you don’t see a change in his face as he eyes the road. The veins in his arm catch all the streetlight, and you gulp before your gaze falls to what he made. Music fills the car, and you decide that maybe you do feel a little hungry. So you listen to instruction, popping it open and being careful as you pluck a piece to try.
There’s no denying it. This motherfucker is a chef. “Fuck, this is good.”
Your borderline moan sends Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing, and you will never get over those low, gravelly laughs. “Sorry.” Your hand hovers over your mouth in embarrassment. “I don’t react like that unless I’m alone.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, well,” you swallow. “Course you don’t.”
A tiny peek of teeth show as Yoongi smiles, and you don’t expect what he offers next, “Just be you, doll. It’s just me.”
The next bite of food pauses on the way to your mouth. “Oh,” you murmur. “Same for you then.”
“Nah.”
“Why not?”
“Cus we wouldn’t make it to where we’re going.”
That was legitimately the worst time to put food in your mouth. Sputtering, your words come out low and chortled, “You fucker.”
His hisses are brief before he dips into silence again. As he slowly turns the wheel, you can see a glimpse of something deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, swallowing as you keep your gaze.
What is that look? Weren’t you both just having a good time? “For what, baby?”
“Everything.”
Your lungs flinch. This is definitely not what you expected to hear on the way to wherever the hell you’re going. “Oh.”
Yoongi still doesn’t look your way, and with each pass of a light over his face, you catch quick snapshots of those eyes you’re still so shy of. “I, umm. I didn’t expect shit to pan out this way.”
“It’s okay,” you whisper.
After a slow motion of disagreement, his head falls forward just a bit. And your eyes find his hand clutching the gear shift in what you sadly think is frustration. “I’ve just thought about some things,” he starts, another song playing. “How worried you must’ve been.”
You look forward. Because this is the part where you can’t face him. “I was. But not for the same reason as last time.” Without a hesitation of your own, your palm reaches between your seats. And you can tell Yoongi watches as you take his hand to hold.
“I was worried about you,” you correct with softness. “It was hard because I didn’t know what to do.” Don’t fucking cry. You filled quite a few buckets already. “When you started not really saying much, I just… Hoped it was for a good reason, so. Yeah.”
You feel your hand gently pulled, which is already enough to make you melt. But when it’s kissed, you don’t know what the hell to fucking do.
“I’m sorry, doll,” Yoongi whispers into your skin, lips brushing with every syllable and painting a canvas of his reconcile. “I won’t leave you hanging like that again.”
There’s a tiny fire in the back of your throat, the embers reaching your eyes just a little too aggressively. You attempt to squash the growing flames before they flare. “Oh. Umm. Thank you.” What else do you say? Yoongi’s being wonderful, but why do you feel… sad? Why is there lingering snow on your windowsill? “Were you worried?”
“Me? Umm.” He stops at a light that he clearly didn’t want to stop at. Resting your conjoined hands on his pliant thigh, his jaw works as he observes them.
And you wonder if he thinks they slot together perfectly, too.
“…Yeah.”
Fuck. “About what?”
“That you’d hate me.”
Your heart meshes his fingers with yours. “Yoongi.”
“Or that you shouldn’t be with someone that’s gone this much.”
Fuck, he’s doing it again. Regressing. You’ve seen it happen in his kitchen and you’ll be damned if all that work, all that peeling, all that resolution amounted to nothing wait, wait, stop. This isn’t gonna be an overnight fix. And you have no clue what’s been happening, so just keep trying, trying, trying.
“I’m used to people leaving,” you joke, but not really. “Like seasons.”
He whips his head to you, and you backpedal because that probably sounded so random. You’ve got to think about filtering your thoughts a little more now that you’re getting comfortable. Yoongi says you can be yourself, sure, but you have to admit your quirks are a little out there. “I know it’s weird, but..”
He’s quiet as the light turns green. And when you don’t finish, he admits, “I think the same.”
“You do?”
Your hand is brushed as a hum peppers it from above. “Mmhmm.”
“Well.” That’s interesting. You didn’t know anyone thought about that stuff like you did. Now you wonder if there’s anywhere else your wavelengths sync, and if they’ve been syncing up all this time. “At least you come back.”
Yoongi squeezes your hand tight before he holds it against his lips. Again. Fuck, this is a lot. You’re so wrapped up in his gesture that you don’t catch what he whispers.
“Hmm?”
He glances at the center console before putting your hand back on his thigh.
“Always, doll.”
And the fire you stepped on rages back with a vengeance. Heat and sting surrounds your eyes, and you don’t hide how you press your feelings into his skin. “Me, too.”
If you weren’t lost in the surrounding scenery outside, you would have caught Yoongi’s look. But all you feel is his hand clutching you tight, and it breaks you down all the same.
The rest of the drive is spent with him telling you to eat more, and a bunch of your sing-alongs to almost every song that comes on. It seems like the tiny bit of closure opened you both up, and you don’t even realize that you’ve been on the road for a really long time.
But finally, Yoongi pulls up to a building, and you’re haphazardly rapping along to a song before you notice. Wait. What? He drove you to a rec center?
Your fingers curl around his forearm before you even notice. “What’s this?”
“Where we’re going.”
Hold on, you’re going inside? “Are we even allowed to be here?”
When Yoongi responds, his teeth make you shiver as he smirks. “Can’t say for sure, no.”
“Then why—”
He unlocks before you can finish, and you’re left in an empty car until he rounds the hood, coming over to your side and opening the door. You almost don’t hear what he says next, too focused on the jewelry swinging from his neck as he bends forward.
But you catch it, and glance once more at the sight in front of you before biting your lip—in nervousness or excitement, you can’t decide.
“You comin’?”
Damn. Obviously, you want nothing more than to see him here. And it’s much too late for anyone to be around. But if something happens… Whatever.
Your mouth finally unsticks. “If we get caught, you’re gonna pay for this.”
And you can’t resist his stupid grin. “Now get your pretty ass out before I put you in the back.”
“Yoongi!”
Grinning, he leads you out, and you follow him to the trunk. After bouncing his stowed ball a couple times, he decides to lean in and reach for something else.
Wait. Is that what you think it is? “Did you always have that in there?” you ask, pointing to the contraption that Yoongi’s using to air up his basketball.
And he does a horrible job at suppressing a smile. Which makes you burst into flutters and beats beats beats. “You liar!” Oh, you are gonna wipe those laughs from his throat. “I had to change up my plans because of you!”
Palming the ball, Yoongi tilts his head dangerously to one side. “And I got to see you,” he proudly claims. “So I’ll take it.”
You hate how the memories come packaged with what’s haunted you. What else happened during that time, and what happened after you left. But there’s no way you’re gonna bring that up. Not when the night has transformed into something so magical.
So you just clutch your food and lean on his car, opting to compliment him to wipe the murk away. “Got to see you, too,” you puff into the brisk night. Because you harbor a bit of nostalgia in your bones. And because he still makes you shy. “You and your stupid hair.”
Another bout of hisses wisp into your side. As you turn to regard Yoongi again, he slips his chains into his hoodie before continuing, and you swoon at the veins popping out of his skin with each pump.
How can he look so perfect doing the simplest things? So unfair.
After seconds that feel like an hour, Yoongi’s done. And he scans the parking lot before telling you to follow him.
What you expect is some outdoor courts. Maybe getting past a gate or two. So when you approach a back door lit by the shine of a single light, you freeze. “Are we really going in?”
Fishing something out of his pocket, Yoongi simply turns over his shoulder. “Yeah. Why not?”
“Oh.” You didn’t think you’d actually get inside the building. If there was an outside court just as accessible it would’ve made sense. Can you even bring food in here? Is that question even relevant? “No reason.”
“So I shouldn’t bust in?”
Huh. “What?”
“I’ve already done it a few times, so.”
“Wait!” Nerves throw your hand on his bicep before you can stop. “What if someone sees us?”
He’s so warm. And so toned. And if he plans on taking his hoodie off? You’re not prepared for whatever the hell he has underneath.
Voice softened, Yoongi tries to placate your paranoia, “They won’t, doll.”
“Are you sure? If we get caught here they’re gonna call the police and I am definitely not… Gonna…”
The object in his hand jangles, and you clearly see he was just joking the whole time because keys—keys—stare you in the face.
What is it with him and keys?
When Yoongi speaks, you feel like you’ve never done anything bad in your life, and suddenly the thought of trespassing with an official way in is so scandalous,
“You picked the wrong night to be a good girl.”
You have to admit. Seeing him so mischievous and dashing makes you wanna follow him wherever the hell he goes. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if you were breaking in tonight, you would be all in. And that thought should frighten you, but it only does because of the wings tickling your rib cage.
How can he make you feel rebellious and yet still so shy? The power of Min Yoongi. He’s way too good at destroying you.
When you glare, the man only grins, hisses of laughter leaving him way too happily before he unlocks the door to no alarms or sirens. He doesn’t need to throw a wink your way, too, but of course he does as he lets you in. Which causes you to float through the dark entryway instead of walk oh he did not just slap your ass!
A jolt in your cunt causes you to regard him in shock. To which he hums in a feigned question. “Hmm?”
With nothing but darkness and his cologne surrounding you, it’s only natural that giddiness takes hold. Truthfully, you’re packed with so much adrenaline that you feel a little wild yourself. “You’ve been waiting to do that, huh.”
“So fucking long.”
You are not surviving the night. And you don’t give a single shit.
But as shy and out of control as you feel around this man, you also feel safe—even in a faraway, dark building that you’ve never been in before. That’s gotta say something about him, right?
Yoongi feels along the wall beside you for lights, purposefully bumping your chest with his front even though he’s securing a ball with an arm. When you question his joking decision with noises, a chaste kiss on your lips shuts you right up.
“You’re in the way,” he jokes through what you think is a smile, and you’re about to move when he flicks on a switch very far away from your shoulder.
Liar! Your jaw drop must be comical because Yoongi’s grin stretches astronomically wide. But you cannot find a retort because seeing him so chill while you’re stiff from paranoia has you at a loss.
Is this how he used to be all the time? This carefree, all caution to the wind? He’s so fucking handsome like this. No wonder he’s pulled so many hearts just like yours.
When you still don’t find any words to say, Yoongi makes it harder, stepping so close that you have to swing the plastic container away. Taking one of your hands in his free one, he gives it a warm squeeze while murmuring,
“You’re so cute.”
“How,” you ask just as softly.
And Yoongi responds with lights in his eyes. “Just are.”
Your lips mesh with his as he keeps your fingers secured, and suddenly every cautious thing in your body gets launched into the skies, too.
But it ends as soon as it begins. And Yoongi backs away from you with a smile,
“Eat.”
“Huh?”
“Eat, doll,” he orders before turning and dribbling onto the court.
When you call out that he hasn’t eaten yet, Yoongi tells you that he already did. When you look around to figure out where to even sit, you decide on the closest set of bleachers and make yourself as comfortable as you can.
Which is impossible. Because they’re bleachers. Which is now triple impossible. Because Yoongi just shucked off his hoodie and the only thing he had under it was his chains goddamn it.
If you weren’t already sitting down you would’ve fallen right into the next dimension. How the fuck are you supposed to eat in these conditions shit he’s walking over!
Your throat seizes as Yoongi approaches, face trained as if he isn’t aware of his overwhelming presence. All he does is bend to place his sweater next to your legs. But the quick smooch on your lips makes you swoon harder than you ever have.
And the way his silver taps your chest makes you mentally hold on for dear life. Wait. What the fuck, Yoongi’s taking them off right now? Right in front of you? Just as you're supposed to eat oh okay he’s handing them to you great wonderful fantastic.
The metal links feel so warm yet slightly cold to the touch. Weighty, yet light. But you clutch them in your hand as you connect a gaze to his.
“Relax,” he orders, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “No need to worry.”
And with bangs swishing, he goes right back to the ball waiting for him. Leaving you starry-eyed to hell with silver in your palm.
…Did all of that just happen? Is any of this even real? Quite frankly, you fucking forgot what you were even worried about.
No matter what he does—simple lay-ups standing in place, dribbling to different spots to shoot, or even lazily jogging after the ball—you’re so enthralled with his actions that you forget that you’re not supposed to be here.
And it takes your last bite of food for something to finally hit you. How does Yoongi have keys to this place? Where the hell did he score those because you don’t think he ever mentioned anything about working here. Or anywhere else other than the studio.
Yet another mystery to add to this walking, bare-chested enigma.
But there’s another question forming behind your eyes the longer you watch him practice, the more you notice how he’s actually going hard. Yoongi’s really good right now. A lot better than what you’ve seen of him before.
Has he been coming here more often than he’s let on? And why does he look so… serious? You’d be surprised if he even remembered you’re here.
Setting your empty container down, you gather the chains in your hands again, deciding to slip them over your head for safer keeping. After, you grab a water before stepping down the bleachers, hanging a little ways away until Yoongi notices you’re courtside.
And when he sees you, he stops practicing immediately, jogging to you so sweaty and shining and gross and handsome and— “Wait, you’re all swea—”
You’re pulled into a kiss the same time you hear a basketball drop, salt on your tongue and damp palms on your cheeks. And you melt right into the shiny wood floor, drifting, drifting, sailing into dreamland even though you’re technically already there.
“Sweaty,” you whisper into his hot breaths of exertion, a twinge between your legs when he kisses you even deeper—breathing, inhaling, taking you in. “Gross.”
“Thanks.”
You flash a smile against Yoongi’s lips, giggling because this is all better than anything your brain could’ve conjured on its own. When you ask why he’s going so hard, all you get is a question in return,
“You’re perfect, you know that?”
Huh? Blinking, you suddenly don’t remember your own train of thought. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.” He presses a wet mouth to your nose. “Did you eat?”
Laughing, you reassure him, “I did, I did.”
“Good. You bored?”
“Huh?”
Yoongi leans to softly take your lips this time, and you want to say he’s approaching the legal limit for kisses tonight. “Thought you came over cus you wanna leave.”
“And stop seeing you play? I could watch this forever.” You squeeze the water bottle a little tighter. “Just checking on you.” Another strike hits between your legs when Yoongi takes another, lazier glide over your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you forward by your bottoms, fingers slick from use.
You could do this for eternity, too.
“Well I got about five more minutes in me, so..”
This man.
“Forever might be a stretch.”
“Ah, shut up. Here,” you offer through a giggle, holding the water out for him to take.
“Thanks.” When he does, he tilts his head at just the right angle to cut you through, gulping down liquid and making you do the same to your nothingness.
So unfair. “You looked like you were going pretty hard.”
Lowering the bottle, Yoongi shifts his jaw before taunting something a ways off. “I kinda was.”
“It was kinda hot.”
His laugh makes you smile, and his next swig makes you weep. “Nah, but. This is our practice gym. I can just zone out here, so. It’s been one of those things.”
Ah. Was this one of the places Yoongi ended up during those months apart? You wish he could’ve brought you along sometimes. Or at least thought about asking. It’s nice just to be around him while he does something he likes. Gaining courage, you say exactly what’s on your mind, “You can always bring me, too. If you want.”
And it’s true. You don’t really have to do much when you’re with him, because just being around him is what brightens your day. Lifts your mood.
But you have to admit that watching him play basketball while shirtless is the biggest fucking win in history.
When did Yoongi get so close? When did his eyes retreat so far away? “I didn’t wanna bother you with this,” he admits, a drop of sweat clinging onto his chin. “I don’t even put music on.”
“You never bother me,” you whisper back. Hoping that he believes you and that he will start to accept that as fact. Because it is. “Even if you’re being annoying.”
The bottle crinkles as he smiles, and there’s a soft kiss to your lips that has no real desire behind it. Just a nice peck that sends you careening down a hill of flowers. “You won’t be feeling that way tomorrow, babe.”
“And why is that?”
“Cus of what I’m wearing.”
And he says that while half-naked? Like any look on him could get any worse. “Oh,” you scoff out, fully calling his bluff. “As if.”
Well, fuck. You don’t enjoy the smirk plastered on his face. It has you both dreading and excited for whatever demon you’re gonna run into tomorrow. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugs as he starts to hand the water back. “We can go soon, by the way.”
“Okay.”
But before you can grab it, Yoongi pulls the bottle from reach. “Unless,” he teases. “You wanna play me.”
“What.”
His grin shines, face glistening and turning your insides to jelly. “You told me you’d win, so. Let’s see it.”
You said that? While sober? How does he remember something like that when you can’t even recall a time or place you’d tell him something so bold. “When!”
“Right after you woke up once. Said you’re a master?”
Oh. That was ages ago. Fuck, you already forgot how did Yoongi remember?
“Oh. Well.” Your nose turns up in feigned haughtiness. “Wouldn’t wanna throw you off your game before a championship.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’d make you cry what the fuck!”
Water spills down your head in rivulets as you freeze, stunned and watching Yoongi jogging his laughs back to the bleachers like a punk. “Think you got something on your face, doll.”
“Yoongi!” What the hell possessed him to do that to you here? Racing after him with purpose, you slam into him just as he reaches for another bottle, shoving a laugh out of his throat and making him catch himself on hardwood. “Nu uh, gimme that!”
“It’s mine, I just ran out—”
“Bitch!” You lunge for another bottle lying further away, distancing yourself to quickly rip the cap off and to avoid feeling his slick back on your hands.
And it’s a lawless gym as both of you start spraying water, arcs and splashes of bottled liquid spewing over the court and soaking into your clothes and his bare skin. Which proves to get worse and worse for your wellbeing the more he gets soaked in your attacks.
Running ends up being the only option to avoid getting completely drenched, and you hightail it behind bleachers before your waist is grabbed. “Fuck!”
“Uh huh.”
You try to wrestle out of his hold, his wet forearm digging lovely into your stomach, and you’re temporarily let go just so Yoongi can spin you around.
Your back connects with solid wall, the impact shooting a grunt out of your throat before you laugh out of pure disbelief. “I can’t believe, you got me to do that,” you rush out, sentence punctuated by your breaths more than anything else.
Here you are. Under bleachers. With Yoongi’s skin caging you with radiating heat.
You can only stare as he drinks you in, no doubt looking at his silver around your neck and your chest heaving from exertion. Butterflies float across your stomach when his smile drips, and you fold as soon as he swoops in.
Everything in your being pulses hard. It’s so visceral that you teeter on the edge of sanity and logic, and the thoughts slipping through your mind are just as wild as you feel. Before you’re even aware of it, a mischievous finger slides along the hem of his shorts, and you jump at the downright boulders rolling down your front,
“Careful, doll.”
“Hmm?” You feel bad. And it feels fantastic. “What was that?”
More gravel slides down his tongue, and you shake at his attractive as fuck threat, “Fuck around and find out then.”
Your giggles add feather lightness into his murky laughs, but you’re so preoccupied that you don’t notice his hand between your legs until he slaps the inside of your thigh. “Yoo—!”
“Unless.” He leans forward. “My baby’s too scared.”
Holy fuck, you might be. Is he really willing to do something with you? In a public place very similar to where you’re gonna watch him play tomorrow? You don’t know why the fuck that’s attractive as hell, but it is.
Yoongi grips your chin, eyes falling to your lips and brows knitted before claiming your lips even harder. And despite your bones vibrating to hell, you put your all into the kiss, relishing in the growing hardness you feel against your front. An animal starts to wake inside your core, and you almost feel like stroking it. Feeding it. Raising it only for it to consume you in return.
“Fuck it, we’re leaving.”
“Huh?” Dazed, you let your vision refocus as Yoongi chuckles at your hazy state.
“Fuck this. I’m taking you home.”
For some reason, the game makes you nervous today. Even while Taehyung strides into the gymnasium with you, there’s a lingering feeling swelling in your stomach, and you don’t have any reason for it yet.
At least this is another rec center entirely. Because there’s no way you would’ve sat still knowing you had a clandestine meeting in the same place not even twenty-four hours before.
But the activity already bustling around hardwood catches your attention. Not on both sides, since only one team is here, but they are active on the other end doing drills.
Wow. They look really intimidating, matching jerseys that were clearly done professionally and warm-ups having a set routine. You wonder if this is gonna be a tough game for… Wait. That’s your brother under the basket. That’s them?
Fucking hell, Yoongi was right.
Because you’ll already never get over how attractive he looks in athletic clothes.
But team jerseys?
Seeing this man rock a basketball uniform with his toned arms and legs so visible makes you want to claw your way out of your invisible cage.
When the hell did they even get those? And why is he already slightly drenched during the warm-up alone?
As soon as you see him make a lay-up, you know for a fact that you shouldn’t be here.
Yes, you’re gonna stay and yes, you’re gonna cheer for them all game. But you are absolutely gonna feel like jumping him, which will in turn make you wanna bolt and run all the way out of town every agonizing second.
Shit, shit, shit. You’re gonna have to try your damned hardest to unstick your eyes from that man the whole time. Already, you can hear Taehyung’s teasing, and your groan is to lament your future state.
Your name suddenly rings across the gym, and four feet pause in your ascent up the bleachers. When you catch both him and Jimin waving you down from their courtside chairs, you tilt your head in intrigue.
They want you to come over there? What the hell is this about?
Sighing, you turn. “Guess I’ll go see what they want.”
“Here,” Tae offers his hand. “I’ll save you a seat.”
Your bag is transferred to his grip while you nod, and you step down onto the court, wondering if you’re even allowed to walk onto it to see them. And Jimin’s grin can be seen from miles away. “Come here!”
You gingerly step onto shiny wooden floors, making your way over and becoming hyper aware that someone else notices your presence. But you’re so puzzled as to why there’s no one on the other side of the court yet because isn’t the game about to start?
Where’s the other team? As you approach their row of chairs, your hands immediately find your hips. “What’s up?”
Jimin’s eyes stay creased as your brother explains the reason he waved you down. A very stupid, very innocuous reason. “Can you keep score?”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“Why me?”
Your brother uses his jersey to wipe sweat from his brow, and you wince at the brand new material getting gross already. “The girl that usually does it for us is sick.”
“And you know the game,” Jimin quickly tacks on, rubbing at some tattoos on full display. Wait, are there more than you remember? When did he get more ink?
Your sibling asks another question you had in mind, “You aren’t gonna cover those?”
“Nah. Not today,” the man elongates in a stretch. “Just got another one. This one!”
Ah, you were right. “I like it.”
Jimin couldn’t look more proud. But enough of that because you really just wanna go back and observe the game from another place entirely. “Can’t y’all find someone else to keep score?”
“We don’t think anyone else can,” your brother explains, looking over your shoulder. “At least, not the people coming to watch us.”
Cool. You get to be met with heat and sweat from all these guys without compensation. How is this something you would say yes to? “Well. I don’t really feel like being a scorekeeper for free.”
When your sibling laughs with Jimin, they share a look before he says so matter-of-factly, “Told you.”
You’re sticking with that. If you’re gonna sit next to a bunch of smelly people, they’re gonna pay… you… somehow.
A ways down the row, you catch Yoongi dumping himself onto a random chair, head tilted back before he hangs it forward to wipe sweat from his forehead.
And suddenly this temporary gig doesn’t seem terrible in the slightest.
Because one, you can sit on a team bench that will have his fine ass right there. And two, this will give you a way to objectively focus on the game. You won’t have time to be distracted by a demon and his hair that’s gotten criminally long.
“I’ll get us all dinner,” your sibling slices through your thoughts. “After we win.”
“Fine,” you sigh, taking the end seat and shooting one more glance to the other side of the court. “Then I get to p—”
The air around you squeezes inward. And all sounds plunge underwater.
Because you recognize someone you knew from a dark club walking onto the court, his team looking just as sharp and cocky as his eyes.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
You don’t notice the way Jimin’s hands flex, nor the way a familiar presence walks up to join your brother.
All you can do is stare back.
And without even realizing.
You’re already rubbing your arm.
-
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tbc. :((
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a ha ha... so how do we feel? | taglist | discord!
a/n: okay, hello, loves. apologies this part took so damn long to post! can you imagine if i tried to post everything at once LMAOO yikes talk about too much at once. but i hope this part was enough to still be good on its own, and broken, pt. 2 will be... well. you can probably guess that's where a majority of my brainpower is going to go.
a/n 2: thank you all for being here! it's been an amazing two years working on this series and i cannot tell you how grateful and appreciative i am to have such wonderful people alongside me. i hope this series continues to be there for you when you need it, bc it has become that for me, too.
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is there a kink for saying “i love you” a lot during sex cause if so kyle garrick 100% has it. he’s so fucking soft and i’m obsessed.
i can just imagine him coming home to his cozy apartment after a longgg day, to his sweet girlfriend who’s never seemed to let him down. recruits defying orders, drills lasting hours longer than originally intended, mounds of unnecessary stress added to his job; it all become obsolete when he lays eyes on you. when you greet him with a huge bear hug and so many kisses at the door, he can practically feel his muscles melt. there’s barely enough time for him to set down his duffle bag and take off his boots before he’s walking you backwards into your shared bedroom, embracing your head in his hands and nearly suffocating you with the return of affection.
he can’t take his time undressing you like he normally does, not when you’re both so eager to feel each other for the first time in so fucking long (like three days). he can’t pay mind to the mess you’re making by peeling his jacket and shirt from his torso and throwing them haphazardly so you can shamelessly cop a feel of his muscles. and he can’t possibly remove his lips from yours as you lay back on your bed and shimmy out of your pants with his help, your sugary giggles reminding him he hasn’t even said a single word since he walked in.
“missed you, love,” he mumbles whilst moving to lean over you, a hand planted beside your shoulder as the other cups your cheek, and now it’s your chance to return the endearment. you repeat his words with a smile and pull him in for yet another kiss, miles different from the previous ones though still equally as desperate.
“missed waking up beside you, feeling your body pressed up against mine… can’t sleep for shit whenever i’m away from you.”
he makes quick but sensual work with kissing down your body, from your neck to the fat of your hip. wet lips leaving their marks along the way, until his impatient fingers slip beneath the band of your panties and pull them down your gorgeous, goosebump-clad thighs.
“missed these pretty tits… ‘nd this perfect, little cunt, fuck…” he breathes. “missed how good my sweetheart tastes, all f’me.”
his murmured words seem foggy, damn-near jumbled as he comes onto you strong. hot tongue lapping at your seam, licking your clit in upward motions like a dirty dog with impeccable manners. you gasp and claw at the nape of his neck, squeeze your thighs and allow your noises to fall freely. you’re so sensitive and he’s already overstimming you despite having just started. he’s been apart from you for long enough; he’s clearly not wasting any more time. “so fuckin’ sweet.”
and he can’t rip himself from that dazed headspace ‘til you’re a panting mess, arching your back into his space. until he gets to feel you finish on his tongue hard, and ride out your high with a selfish grip on his skull, begging for more you know you can’t take.
crawling up your body as you fight to ground yourself through starry vision and a heaving chest, capturing little, vulnerable you in a kiss.
he shushes you through the stretch of his cock, cooing your winces away with quick and chaste kisses plastered everywhere from the corner of your lips to your temple. pausing there for a moment to remind you of how well you’re doing, get you finely adjusted and calmed down a bit before he’s rolling over to his back and bringing you with him, a surprised yelp being pushed from your lungs.
you land on his chest, hands planting themselves on his shoulders to catch you mere inches from his stupidly handsome face. your visual scolding only turns him on more, cocky look never depleting as he wraps his meaty arms around your waist and pulls you oh, so close.
“love you, princess.” he can’t stop tugging you in for more kisses, so much so you’re unable to reciprocate the words. “go ahead ‘nd make up for lost time, yeah? show me how much you missed this, us.”
with that, you try your best to sit up straight as you begin rocking your hips against him. lifting them a bit the more you go on, getting used to the feeling of his thick cock stretching your soft walls out. knocking at the deepest parts of you your fingers could never reach while he’s away, ensuring you go slow to keep it from turning painful.
“that’s it, there ya go, baby. a beautiful sight you are, eh?”
you nod along with whatever he says, getting yourself drunk on him as his big hands paw at your waist. not missing a beat as he pulls you closer, tongue and lips pressing against the center of your chest before spanning out and praising your hard nipples individually.
“you’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. so fuckin’ proud’ve you… fuck, i love you so much,” he can’t help but pant.
“l-love you, too,” your voice trembles, thoughts overwhelmed by the amount of bodily contact and stimulation he gives you. he’d hate to admit how his heart flutters every time he hears you say those words. “love your cock… i love it, kyle— i want more—” you choke.
begging for more despite being fully sheathed on his cock, perched on his lap with full control? christ, he knows what you want instead.
“i know baby, i know what you want. just make me come like this first, ‘n then i’ll fuck you real nice after.” his promises do well enough to spur you on to keep going, turning your little pout into a grin.
you nearly fall to shambles when one of his hands slides down from your ribcage and falls to where the two of you meet. his thumb reaching your sensitive clit whilst the rest of his fingers and palm presses up against your lower tummy, applying pressure.
“love my pretty girl… this perfect pussy wrapped ‘round my cock.” his other hand rubs up and down your back until he’s forced to drag it back to your hip and aid your movements when you begin slowing, due to both the added pleasure as well as the stinging in your thighs.
he refuses to relent in chasing his high, and neither does his thumb on your clit to push you overboard. giving him all those telltale signs, every nerve in your body responding to finally being back with your beloved partner, and he brashly seeks it out. “y’gonna come, baby?”
you don’t have the lungs nor will to tell him before it’s happening, and you’re squeezing down on his cock with a loud moan as your brain and body goes numb atop him. he wraps both arms tightly around your waist to catch you when you fall into his neck and shoulder, lifting you on and off his cock like a pliant toy to guide you past your extensive orgasm as well as aid his own impending one.
“shit— princess, ‘m gonna come…” he warns you, and your body responds with constricting down on him impossibly tighter.
you feel so good around him, so fucking perfect, and he just…
“i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you—” he murmurs right up against your temple, holding your hips down as he finishes deep inside you. a low, broken moan contrasting your complacent hums at the feeling of his hot cum warming your tummy, pulling him in tight with your arms wrapped around his neck so securely.
taking a minute to breathe and recollect, revel in being back with the one you care so much for. peppering kisses all over his cheekbone as you repeat his lovely mantra.
you’re left exhausted as he cards his fingers through the roots of your hair and he holds your head close, rough and deadly hands gentle for once. he eventually mumbles, “did so good for me, love. you tired?”
you nod against his shoulder with a sleepy hum, and he chuckles faintly. maneuvering you to look him in the eyes, sharing a kiss once more before he’s slipping a hand up your spine and flipping you over to tenderly lay you on your back with spread legs.
sitting upright to fist his soaked cock that’s still just as hard, right in front of your drooling pussy leaking his pearly cum. his jaw would be at his sternum in admiration if it weren’t for his trained self-control.
he takes a moment to smile down at his pretty mess, admiring that confused look in your hazy eyes. “i made you a promise, didn’t i?”
#i love him#kyle garrick#gaz cod#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#kyle garrick smut#gaz smut#cod mw
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million dollar man | derek danforth x reader
summary: Derek Danforth takes great pleasure in paying for your company and your company only. He’s also a grade A asshole, who doesn't know how to take no for an answer. You come to him on a strict schedule, and, usually, he respects your life aside from him. But, for some reason, you can’t ever seem to get a hold of an evening with your friends without his intrusions. Corrupted with need, Derek persuades you to come to him with an offer of something.. more. Something that he knows will get your attention. What happens when the night ends in a way you wouldn't possibly expect?
word count: 3k
warnings/disclaimers: (18+ only!) fem!reader (no use of y/n), slight spoilers for "the beekeeper", reader's a broke college student, substance use (reader & derek smoke a joint and get high), (that's the "more" in the summary if that matters to anyone btw), use of pet names (baby, babe), derek's an asshole and a bit toxic (as expected), maybe ooc derek but? in a way, reader makes derek want to be better, a bittt of angst but it's worth it i promise, kissing, yeaa i think that's it, part 2 will have smut ofc!, this is kinda all over the place but i hope it makes sense lmfaoo
authors note: hi! i've been so so occupied w/ college, so i apologize sincerely for my sudden, longgg hiatus :') i miss writing all of the time </3 but, i saw the beekeeper on saturday and felt the need to write again! i've been super into jhutch for the past few months, so i hope you guys enjoy this one <3 part two should be coming asap :) so, consider this my brief comeback? but not really? i'm unpredictable
ao3 link | masterlist
read part 2 here!
Being one of the girls Derek Danforth keeps around, you’re bound to deal with some of the bullshit that comes along with it.
But unbeknownst to you, he likes you a little more than he'd like to admit.
He hasn't seen any of the others in weeks now, his mind only occupied with his thoughts of you and when you're not around. And when you're actually with him, paying for the pleasures of your company, he can't help but want more from you when he knows that's beyond your limits.
It's simple, really.
He's a lonely man, and he knows that; knows that his personality is hard to swallow and tolerate. Knows it's pathetic that all he can do is pay for people to actually stick around.
But, there's only so much a lonely man can take.
So, that's when he starts seeing you, exclusively, ‘cause to be fair? You’re the only one who’s bothered to stay by his side for this long.
The only one who’s ever made him feel.. something.
It’s been a few months now since you started seeing Derek. The first few visits from you immediately captured his attention; your disposition being unlike any he's ever encountered before.
Being surrounded by other like-minded people such as himself, it's safe to say that it's all he's ever known. The rich and prosperous life that everyone else around him has. The ability to get anything he wants in a blink of an eye, regardless of what it was, extravagant or not.
You on the other hand? It wasn't so easy.
Maybe it was because you were so hard to get. Maybe it was because he liked the challenge.
He didn't know why he was so captivated by you. But, what he did know was the fact that he needed to.
"Hey, I know we said next week, but I need you here now."
Derek had called you, urgently as it seemed while you were out. Despite the heads up you gave him about your upcoming plans the last time you saw each other, he didn't care, and that was something you were already preparing for.
"Derek, I told you: I can't do today. We agreed that it was fine." You spoke directly into the phone, walking away from your friends at the club you were at to a quieter area; away from the deafening music that shook every inch of the perimeter.
"Are you at a club right now?"
You sighed exasperatedly, the irritation in your tone evident as you reached an empty corridor near the bathroom, body leaning against the wall. "Yes, Derek, did I have to specify my plans to you as well?"
He let out a small laugh that made you stiffen, throat tightening.
"What's with the attitude, baby? It was a harmless fuckin' question."
You were used to this with him; the casual swearing, the way he spoke to you. It was nothing new, and everything you had already adapted to.
But, God, did it annoy the fuck out of you sometimes.
"No attitude. Just wondering why the hell you need me on my day off. I'm having some fun here, is that a problem?"
"Without me? 'Course it is," He exclaimed, his voice giving off his arrogance, "Why have fun there when you could be doin' that with me here?"
You swallowed sharply and licked your bottom lip, looking up and around you as you shook your head, hesitant on his inquiry. "I don't know, Derek.. I, I'm with my friends. Promised I'd be here tonight.." You paused, "They think I 'see you too much' already, y'know?"
"Fuck what your friends think. Come on, come see me, baby. I'll make it worth your while."
He was desperate, you could tell that much.
You rolled your eyes at that, your declaration already evoking his direct persuasions. "And how would you do that, Mr. Danforth?" You teased, "You know I don't play that shit with you."
He sighed into the phone, "Got something better then. You wanna relax, clear your head a bit? Fuck, I got it all for you," He implied what you thought he did, a slight weak spot that you didn't mind partaking in once in awhile.
He knew you were stressed with college, hence why you took this job in the first place; to ease the expenses you had to deal with. He also knew what you liked.
Still, who were you if one measly opportunity to get high bought you out?
"..And?" The word trailed off your tongue, drawing it out.
"I'll pay double tonight."
Too easy. "Fine."
You straightened yourself out, preparing to make up some lousy excuse to your friends of your departure. One that you knew they'd easily figure out.
"Text me the address."
Done. You heard the ding from the speaker of his phone alert him.
"Sending a car your way. Be out in 15."
You were intrigued by Derek.
Despite how much of an asshole he was, despite the privileged life that he's been able to live; the complete opposite of what you had been given.. you were intrigued by him.
The way he ticked, the way he carried himself.
The way everyone knew so much but so little about the President's son.
You almost felt special that his desires laid with you.
The roads that grew mundane to you towards Derek's estate made your heart race, the familiarity of it all still feeling so unbelievable to fathom.
You weren't like him; you were nothing like him. So, how in the hell did you get in this position?
The abrupt stop of the car you were in snapped you out of your head, and one of the workers Derek had around opened the door for you.
"Welcome back. Mr. Danforth has been waiting for you."
You smiled at the man and nodded, thanking him gracefully as you were led into the absurdly large residence you were still foreign to.
Before you could latch your eyes onto the man expecting you, his voice introduced himself into the room first, capturing your gaze.
"There's my girl. About time." Derek spoke loudly, and proudly at that, rushing towards you eagerly. He wore a blue suit with a cheetah print button up just underneath it, and you couldn't help but admit how nice it looked on him. His outfits could be outrageous at times, but it just worked with him.
You laughed at his remark. "I saw you two days ago, Derek."
He shook his head, grinning as he pressed a small kiss to your cheek. An affectionate gesture that you agreed to in your early days with him. "Two days, too long."
You rolled your eyes and gave him a small side hug, feeling a bit more eased at his calm demeanor. It seemed like he was completely different from the Derek you spoke to on the phone. Maybe he really did just need to see you.
But you? You had no idea why he chose you.
"Well, I'm here now.. What are you gonna do with me?" You tantalized, wanting to fuck with him as much as you could. The rules you set for yourself kept him in check, but you couldn't deny how fun it was to see him squirm.
You were confident, and you knew it. You knew he wanted you. But, you knew your worth, too. You weren't going to be so easy.
At least, not unless it was on your own circumstances.
He took a deep breath and put his hand on your lower back, beginning to lead you towards the abundant living room that he had all to himself. Matter of fact, he had the entire place to himself.
He glanced at your face as you took your steps, explaining himself clearly, "Just what you agreed to, baby. Got what you want right here." He took his hand off of you, walking towards the elegant box on the sofa table that he quickly opened up.
Pulling out something small, he lifted it up to you, revealing the perfectly rolled up joint that put a slight smirk on your face.
Well, here we fucking go.
"You're staying true to your word, Danforth. Just what I like to see," You commented, walking up to him, "Well, don't keep me waiting."
He shook his head and scoffed lightly, "Get comfortable, then."
He sat on the couch and patted next to him, and you followed right along, the lighter suddenly in his hand igniting to present the orange flame that flickered in your eyes.
He placed the joint in between his lips, lighter hovering above the end of it as it makes that familiar sound, papered edges burning crisp. He takes a drag of it, shutting his eyes as he lets the smoke fill his mouth before inhaling it into his lungs. A familiar warmth already seeping into the environment around you.
Without a second to waste, he urges you to come closer, muttering out a, "C'mere baby," before he places the tip of the joint in between your lips for you.
You quickly take the chance to take a drag yourself, repeating his every move as you shut your eyes blissfully, the herbal scent of it filling your nose from Derek's own smoke escaping his mouth.
"Yeah," He draws out, "There you go," He mutters as he watches you intently, taking in your hazy state as you evidently begin to relax. "Feels good?"
You swallow as you flutter your eyes back open to him, slight butterflies spreading to your stomach.
..That was the weed. Not him. Definitely not him.
You just nodded as he pulled it away from you, sleekly mustering out, "Great. Feeling better already."
He smirked at you and cocked his head, "Already? We're just gettin' started, babe."
You huffed and leaned back against the couch, getting yourself more comfortable as you shook your head, "Alright, Mr. Professional over here. I don't smoke as much as you, you know that." You sighed.
"I know, I know, m' just fucking with you. Besides, you got me here now, anyways," He teased, scooting a bit closer to you, "C'mon, open up." He urged you, taking another drag coolly, eyes stuck on you.
You quickly listened, lips parting to open wide, expecting the sudden smoke that filled the air to hit you. He blew it out in your face, making you giggle from the feeling as your lungs took it in.
He licked his lips as his gaze lingered on yours, lips slowly closing shut as your body increasingly felt lighter, the substance overwhelming your foggy brain.
The more the seconds passed, the more his eyes darkened, consuming you completely.
A part of you couldn’t help but like it.
There was something so sensual about it. You knew that; there was no denying it. And maybe it was the weed too, but fuck, did it feel good with him right now.
Right now, Derek Danforth was not the condescending asshole that you occasionally dreaded being around.
Right now, Derek Danforth was slowly becoming the one thing that you craved the most.
Fuck, it really was the weed.
"Give me that." You distracted yourself from your heavy thoughts, reaching for the joint in between his fingers. He handed it to you and leaned back against the couch himself, body angled to face you entirely.
He couldn't take his eyes off of you, and now, it was you who was bound to squirm.
You avoided his gaze, taking one last drag before giving it back to him eagerly. There was only so much you could take, and normally you'd want more, but you couldn't help but fear the possibility of any more of it multiplying these thoughts of him.
The feelings that you continuously needed to deny.
Your eyes locked onto the center table just in front of you, suddenly feeling incredibly curious about the intricately built legs that screamed wealth.
Now, he obviously wasn't as high as you, because the next thing that leaves his mouth sounds a bit too coherent for him to be.
"Don't know how you went this long without me."
Your head snapped to him at that, stomach suddenly tightening with confusion at his words. A direct, accusative statement you couldn't have possibly expected to hear from him.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just.. with college, with this, with experiences like this.. You need me. Obviously." He exclaimed confidently, as if you should’ve known that already.
There he was. The asshole.
You sharply inhaled, scoffing as you shook your head, staring down at your lap. Your hazy mind can't even help you form words, except for the one phrase that doesn’t do your defense any justice.
"I don't.. I don't need you." The tone of it is light, gentle as it rolls off your tongue, and you hate that you're not in the right headspace for this right now.
He laughs at that. The same laugh that always makes you stiffen, freezing in your place.
"You don't.. you don't need me?" He mocks you as he takes another drag from the joint, putting it out on the ashtray in front of him, "Everybody needs someone, baby.. You shouldn't try so hard to deny that." He taunts you, and you know that it's what he wants from you.
For you to lash out. For you to show him any ounce of vulnerability that you've managed to keep composed since this relationship began.
"Especially not from someone who treats you so.. Right." He whispers out, almost grimly as he leans in closer to you, face merely inches away.
You slowly turn your head now, facing him as you shut your eyes gauzily, mind still lost in your mix of emotions. You hate him; you want to hate him so badly, but you can't.
Some fucked up part of you can't let yourself.
But, that doesn't stop you from putting up a fight.
"You treat me.. right? Is that what you think?" You begin, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to hold yourself back, "You're an asshole, who treats everyone like shit, Derek."
He laughs, a cruel noise escaping his lips; an unexpected action that urges you on, pushing you further.
"You.. You completely disregard my feelings, my, my plans, everything in my life that doesn't have anything to do with you, you're unbearable, you—"
He cuts you off then, inching closer to you as he grins at that, "Then why the fuck do you stick around? If I'm so fucking unbearable, baby, why do you bother with me?"
"Because maybe.. there's some part of me that hopes you'll stop being such a piece of shit, Derek!" You explode now, aggravated and pushed to your limits. Pushed to show you care for him in some way.
Was this his plan all along?
You don’t know, but you let out one final remark, unable to control yourself now that you've already begun, "But, I don't fucking need you. You need me." You spit out, your seething glare locked on him.
"I need you?" He spews out, almost as if it's too unbelievable to even hear.
"Yeah, you need me."
"I need you?" He repeats bitterly.
You swallow, blatantly whispering, "You need me, Derek."
He continuously denies you, his composure slowly leaving him the more you open your mouth.
“I don’t need you. I don’t fucking need anyone.” He’s quick to say defensively as he turns away from you, refusing to allow you to get to him.
But, you know it now. You’re getting under his skin.
You press further, head closing in near his to make sure he hears your words loud & clear.
“You randomly pulled me out of my plans tonight and brought me here, Derek. What fucking for? I know you didn’t just need my fucking company. Not after you persuaded me to come. I know you better than that now.”
He shakes his head, rapid and tense, unknowingly egging you on.
“Why do you care about what the fuck I do? Who I see? Hell, even my fucking life! I thought this was all just business to you. What happened to that?”
He pauses then, processing it all. Something he's never been compelled to do before.
“..What happened to that, Derek?” You push, tone composed & steady now.
Before you can continue your little speech, before you can push him any further, he crumbles instantly; voice direct and harsh as he finally reviles into your exertions.
"I don’t—I don’t fucking know, okay! Yeah, maybe you're fucking right. Maybe that's why I always want you around. Maybe that's why you're the only fucking person that I ever want to be around. I—I just—"
“You just what?” You need to hear it, desperation seething through your voice.
He bursts out now, head turning to face you as he spits out his confession. “I can’t fucking think of anything else but you. I can’t be around anyone else without wishing it was fucking you.”
There it fucking is. But, he’s not done.
“You drive me fucking crazy, baby,” He laughs at himself, pathetic with his vulnerable words that no one else has ever gotten to hear, “And I don’t know what the fuck to do ‘cause I know this isn’t what you signed up for, but fuck, maybe I.. I do fucking need you, I don’t fucking—”
You can’t control the next thing you do.
Well, maybe you can, but you really don’t fucking want to.
It's your turn to cut him off now, after the countless times he’s done it to you; by placing your lips on his, eager and desperate as your hands slip from your lap to cup his face and pull him in close, chasing the high of his lips on yours.
He shuts his eyes as you do the same, swallowing sharply once you break it apart, eyes set on him as you await his response.
His wide eyes lock onto yours now, and he whispers out your name, shocked and unsteady, and almost in an attempt to stop you.
"God, just shut up for once." You interrupt him, pushing your lips back onto his before he can protest any further. He moans into your mouth, hands moving to grip your hips eagerly, his body closing in on you completely.
Let's just say, you don't feel so high anymore. You’re no longer confused.
You're more sure of this than anything in your fucking life.
-
part two should be coming this week! feedback & reblogs are greatly appreciated <3
#yes i'm back.. maybe#derek danforth#derek danforth x reader#derek danforth x you#derek danforth fic#derek danforth smut#derek danforth x reader smut#derek danforth fanfiction#the beekeeper#the beekeeper fanfiction#mike schimdt x reader#peeta mellark x reader#josh hutcherson fanfic#josh hutcherson characters#josh hutcherson x reader#josh hutcherson character fic#josh hutcherson x you#tagging as smut bc part 2 will have it <3#fake-bleach#my writing#i missed writing sm :')
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˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―
― day four ⛧ orgasm control
Stu Macher x Reader
You take it upon yourself to get off without Stu's permission, and he punishes you.
warnings: pwp, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, orgasm control, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, withheld orgasm
word count: 697
author's note: welcome to day fourrrrr (: I missed writing for Stu omg it's been a longgg time. I don't think I've written for him in 2 years. if I'm a little rusty with his character I apologize but I do hope everyone enjoys (: thanks for any feedback!!
kinktober masterpost | kinktober taglist form | main masterlist | main taglist form
this fic has been cross posted to ao3.
ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.
“Oh, you wanna cum? That’s too bad,” Stu mockingly pouts, a gentle hand mussing through your hair in contrast with the harsh snapping of his hips into yours.
He grips the hair he has between his fingers, pulling your head to the side to allow his mouth to latch onto your neck underneath your ear. His other hand is freely working on your clit- your arousal spreads along it in a perfect amount to coerce a sickening sound as Stu’s fingers pick up speed. You whimper pitifully as the mixture of Stu’s hand, and his hard cock rubbing against your bundle of nerves with every thrust causes your body to vibrate. You oh so badly want to cum around his cock over and over until you’re absolutely spent- but Stu won’t allow it. You’re being punished, and not getting your release is your punishment.
“Should’ve waited for me to come home like the good kitten you know you are,” Stu growls in your ear, feeling your walls begin to clench around him.
He quickly pulls out of you and removes his fingers from your puffy clit, his hands completely off you. You move to squeeze your legs together, but Stu forces them apart to ogle at your throbbing, sensitive pussy and how it convulses from lack of touch. Stu repositions himself onto his chest, his face buried between your thighs as his fingers grasp the shaking flesh there. He gives your clit a tentative lick and slips two fingers inside your heat, curling them immediately. Your spine curves upward, your body reacting to the sudden stimulation. Your hand grips Stu’s wrist like a vice, and you start to cry as his fingers curl and fuck into you.
“Please let me cum, baby, I won’t touch myself without you again, I swear-”
“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” Stu tuts, nipping your clit with his teeth with an insatiable grin.
Adding a third finger, Stu gains a steady pace of circling your exposed pussy with his warm tongue and long fingers, bringing you to the edge of orgasm three more times. At this point, you’re nearly sobbing, incoherent words falling from your lips as your hips stutter messily. “Please, please, please.” has become a mantra.
“Does this sweet kitten wanna cum? Hmm?” Stu purrs into your thigh, and you nod vigorously, “Be careful what you wish for.”
Stu removes himself from you, flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips into the air, slamming his length inside you. He hits your spot perfectly, causing your body to start quaking in pleasure.
“Let go, baby. And don’t stop until I say so,” Stu growls in your ear, his hands spreading your ass apart to get a better view of you from behind.
Stu curves his cock into your cervix, sending your core reeling and your orgasm washing over you at last. It’s so strong that it sends you into another orgasm seconds after as Stu slaps your clit harshly. He’s relentless when it comes to rubbing you- he knows just how to do it right without it hurting or feeling useless. So he continues to press circles into your clit with his deft fingertips until you cum again and again around his length.
“Don’t stop cumming until I say so,” Stu groans, his cock rehardening from your desperate clenching around him as he begins pushing into you again.
Your body trembles as Stu fucks you again, your overstimulated cunt hot and wet around him. He wraps a hand around your throat, your pitiful moans vibrating against his palm. You weakly buck your hips against his, “Just like that, one last time,” he praises.
Stu moans hotly into your ear as he releases, and you cum again before nearly blacking out, feeling limp underneath Stu’s grip.
“You good, baby?” Stu asks as you sink down underneath him into the mattress.
You nod tiredly, and he gently pulls out of you, rubbing a hand down your back soothingly.
“You did good, doll,” Stu curls up behind you, his arms wrapped around you softly.
You sigh, nestling your face into the sheets as you finally give in to your body’s exhaustion.
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#stu macher#stu macher x reader#stu macher x reader smut#stu macher smut#stu macher x you#stu macher x you smut#stu macher x y/n#stu macher x y/n smut#stu macher imagine#stu macher one shot#ghostface#ghostface x reader#ghostface x reader smut#ghostface smut#ghostface x you#ghostface x you smut#ghostface x y/n#ghostface x y/n smut#scream#scream 1#scream 1996#kinktober#kinktober 2023#floralcyanide writes#floralcyanide kinktober#floralcyanide's kinktober#floralcyanide's kinktober 2023#floracyanide kinktober 2023
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could i get jason, percy, and leo looking after an overly affectionate drunk reader (fem pls)
Drunk Reader (Fem)
Jason Grace
-The second he realizes you’re a bit too drunk he decides it’s time to go home. You were clinging to his neck making Jason hold your waist to ensure you wouldn’t fall.
-”But Jason I don’t want to go yetttt.” you complain to him slurring your words. Jason huffs a little fondly at that as he sweeps you off your feet carrying you bridal style.
-”Not even if we binge your favorite show and I cook you some breakfast?” he suggests. That was all the convincing you needed as you grumbled something into his chest, pressing yourself as close to him as you could get.
-Jason gives a goodbye to the rest of the group as he gets you home, carrying you the entire way. When you get home he works on making breakfast, but he has to work around having you right in front of him, since you could still be close and cuddle up with him.
-Even with that challenge he manages to get breakfast done, thanks to some cooking classes from Leo of course. You had been really thankful for that because Jason’s cooking was awful before…
-He gets you over to the sofa getting on your favorite show, while making sure you get plenty of water and eat a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and plenty of toast to help with your eventual hangover.
Percy Jackson
-Everyone knew that you were clingy while drunk, it worked out sense Percy was just as clingy if not more. He’ll cling to you like a koala bear while the two of you take turns telling each other how much you love each other.
-The two of you were just having the time of your life dancing to Poker Face, which made you nearly cry laugh since Percy had told you about the whole Lotus Casino incident.
-You had plenty to drink and we’re busy drunkenly arguing over who loved the other more. “I love you to… To the bottom of the ocean!~” you huff unhappily at that crossing your arms as you were competitive. “Well… I love you to the moon and back!” That went on longer than you’re willing to admit.
-You both enjoy the night until the end of the night partying, drinking and eating plenty of food. You have to use each other for support and thankfully have Grover drive you both home. Though it was a bit of a struggle to get you away from Percy long enough to get you buckled up.
-When you get home you both crash into bed, knowing well that you were going to suffer a horrible hangover the next day. Which you did.
-Thankfully Percy was nice enough to make you pancakes in the morning. You were too hung over to care that they were radioactive blue.
Leo Valdez
-Ever had someone explain to you how a mechanical dragon works in less than an hour? Well you sure had now. Leo would go on longgg rants about things he was working on and different things that annoy him during his project.
-Not that you mind you were just contently snuggled up into his arm, enjoying your buzz as you listen to Leo rant. You decide you want to cuddle more and shift into his lap to cuddle up into his chest.
-He nearly catches you on fire but he quickly pats himself out, putting his arm on the top of the chair. “you uh, come here often?” he says, trying to play it off. You can’t help but laugh at that as you snuggle into his chest.
-He smiles lovingly and softly as he wraps his arms around you “I’m so lucky…” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your head. “So damn lucky… Promise you won’t leave…” his voice was soft as if this was a secret between the two of you.
-”I promise…” you muttered softly as you were starting to nod off into the warmth of Leo’s arms. And just like that you were out like a light. It didn’t take long before Leo fell asleep soundly too, holding you close as if you’d leave him in his sleep.
-The other seven had to work on carrying you both out, since you both were out cold no matter how hard they tried to wake you up.
~Masterlist & Rules~
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gold star (Hotch x Teacher!Reader) -- one shot
Been working on this one for a hot minute oops. Just wanted to say thank y’all for being patient with me always (and we literally hit 5.7k followers even while I’ve been so inactive???? what????). Here’s a longgg dose of fluffy angst <33
Edit: I’m a dumbass and queued this for the wrong day
Summary: You’re Jack’s teacher and Aaron is basically your nemesis. Until he’s not. (Kinda enemies to lovers?)
Warnings: angst! talks of parent death, therapy, bad parenting/emotional neglect, y’know the works. Lots of fluff tho to make up for it. And a happy ending!
WC: ...5.7k-ish
I love my job. I love my job. If you say it enough, you’ll believe it. I love my job. You glance at the clock and see your next parent is late. I love my job.
You do love your job, you really do. What you hate are parent-teacher conferences that you’re required to do. Especially when the parent is late. After having to reschedule at the last minute. Twice.
If you didn’t have a genuine concern to discuss with Jack’s father, then you wouldn’t be here still. But alas, you care for Jack more than your annoyance at his father.
Jack Hotchner is a sweet kid. Genuinely wonderful. After his mom’s sudden death a few years ago, everyone worried about him. You’re friends with Julia, who was his kindergarten teacher just a few months after it occurred. Despite being a teacher for almost a decade that year, Julia had never encountered this situation, so she looked to you for help. You lost your mom when you were in first grade, so you were able to give her more helpful tips that actually work.
Now, you have the pleasure of having Jack in your second grade classroom and he truly is an amazing student. You only wish you could share this information with his father who seems to be on another plane of existence every goddamn--
A knock on your classroom door frame makes you jump.
“I’m sorry,” Aaron Hotchner rushes out, quickly dropping his hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, standing up from your desk chair, putting on a smile. “Come on in.”
“Thanks, and please, it’s Aaron,” he smiles sheepishly, walking over. He towers over the tiny desks as he maneuvers past them to yours. He sticks out his hand for you to shake. He has a firm grip, but his hands are soft. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I got caught up at work--”
“I figured,” you reply, sitting back down. You pull up your laptop and begin typing in your password. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to make this quick. I should’ve left an hour ago.”
“Oh, sorry, am I that late?” he flicks his arm to look at his watch. He sighs. “I apologize.”
You hum. “Our conference was scheduled for 4:15.” You glance down at the clock on your screen. “It’s almost six.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “Would it be better to reschedule?”
“Nope,” you shake your head. “You’re already here.” And if you reschedule, then this might happen again, so you’d rather do this now while you’ve got him here. “Fortunately, Jack is doing really well. He’s struggling a little with math, but he’s not the only one, and we’re working on it. He’s made a few friends, I know we discussed that last time. He’s breaking out of his shell, I think.”
“That’s good,” Aaron says, smiling a little. “That’s really good to hear.”
“Is he doing any extracurriculars?” you ask. Last time, when you voiced your concerns to Aaron about his son being a little too quiet and shy, you suggested asking if he’d like to do a sport, or play an instrument.
“He’s doing soccer,” Aaron says.
Your eyes widen. “Oh!”
“You look surprised,” he presses.
“I guess I didn’t expect Jack to…want to do a sport,” you shrug, checking your notes for the conference to stall.
What you really wanted to say is that you didn’t expect Aaron to listen to you. Given his track record, it seemed highly unlikely that he’d follow through and actually ask his son about trying a sport, let alone go through with signing him up for one.
“Do you have any questions for me?” you ask, closing your laptop lid. Aaron has been studying your face in this lull of silence, and it’s unnerving.
“I don’t think so,” he finally says.
“Okay,” you nod, not surprised. “I did have one more thing. I know I said Jack is breaking out of his shell, and he is, but he seems…down. Is something going on at home?”
Aaron sighs. “It’s getting closer to the anniversary of his mom’s death.”
That tugs on your heart. “Oh, I see. Alright.” You pause. “Uh-- If you don’t mind me asking, is he seeing a counselor or a therapist or anything?”
“He’s not, not currently,” Aaron says.
You blink. You shouldn’t really be surprised, but you are. “Has he at all since his mom’s death?”
“Briefly, right after she died.”
“Okay.” You clear your throat. You cannot yell at a parent. That’s unprofessional. “I know it’s not my place, but I’d highly suggest finding him someone. Especially right now as the anniversary is getting closer, and as Jack gets older. I would suggest our school counselor, but I think Jack would do better with someone better equipped for his situation.”
Aaron stares at you, nodding slowly. “Alright.”
You lean over and open a drawer, grabbing the handout specifically for times like these. Given the area the school is in, parents are typically able to pay for services like these, and are more willing. You know it’s because they don’t have the time to deal with their children’s emotions, so they pawn them off on someone else, and claim it as a good deed.
In a way, you’re grateful the children are able to receive help that you didn’t because your dad couldn’t afford it. You just wish the kids also received support from their family, not just from doctors.
“Here’s a list of great pediatric psychiatrists and therapists in the area.” You hand Aaron the packet and he takes it gently, his expression unreadable. Parents are always so weirdly defensive about this. “Many of our students see someone from that list, so I trust that one will be a good fit for Jack. If you want some help narrowing it down, I can help.”
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I’ll look into this.”
I hope so, you want to say, but he doesn’t sound too sincere. “Okay,” you smile softly instead. “That’s all I have, unless you have any other questions?”
He shakes his head. “No, I think-- I think this is good.”
“Alright, well,” you pause, opening Jack’s folder. “I just need you to sign here, so the school knows we met.” You slide the form and a pen across the table.
Aaron signs swiftly, a signature born from frequent piles of paperwork. You know he does something in the government, you’re just not sure what. Nearly every parent here works in the government, though, so that’s not a remarkable conclusion to have made.
“Thank you,” you say, taking the signed form and sliding it back into Jack’s folder. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”
“You too,” Aaron says, standing up to shake your hand again. He’s so formal, you almost forget. He clutches the packet in his free hand, and you wonder if it’ll end up in the recycling bin at the end of the hall.
After shaking your hand, Aaron apologizes again for his tardiness, and then leaves your classroom. The clock on the wall says it’s just past six. A record for one of the latest nights you’ve been here.
Gathering your things, you do some last minute checks around the classroom before heading out, locking the door behind you.
As you reach the exit doors at the end of the hall, you peer into the trash and recycling bins. Both are empty, no signs of your pediatric psychiatrists packet.
At least that’s a win.
+++
A month or so later, you’re waking up early to go to a soccer game. If it weren’t for your kids asking you (loudly and enthusiastically) to come to their game, then you wouldn’t be awake right now on a Saturday.
Julia, at least, is coming with you, and so is Kate, a fellow second grade teacher whose classroom is across from yours. Julia is coming to see Jack, and Kate also has a few students who asked her to come.
The three of you stop for coffee before going to the park where the soccer games are held. Walking across the field, you find an empty space on the bleachers and sit down, looking around for your kiddos.
To your complete and utter surprise, you spot Aaron Hotchner -- of all parents.
You quickly avert your eyes, looking around some more. You haven’t seen or spoken to Aaron since the parent-teacher conference as Jack is usually picked up and dropped off by his Aunt Jessica. Jack has seemed a little more present and happy, but you have no idea if that means that Aaron actually sought help for his son.
Even more embarrassing, you’ve worried about your job since that conference. It’s always a gamble, offering parents advice. You never know what will cross a line and equal an angry phone call to the principal followed by a swift withdrawal of their child from your class. Not every parent has always been so keen on your attention to your students’ emotional wellbeing.
“Don’t look, but one of the dads cannot keep his eyes off of you,” Julia whispers.
“Which one?” Kate asks, then she spots him. “Oh, him-- He’s tall. Wait, is he…?”
You glance over and sure enough, the one in question is Aaron. He can’t tell that you’ve looked at him, though, thanks to your sunglasses. “That’s Jack’s dad,” you say, looking away again.
“I knew he looked familiar,” Julia murmurs. “I’m not used to him out of the suit. His hair is longer too, isn’t it?”
“Why would I know?” you counter, taking a sip of your coffee.
“Is he the one you mouthed off to?” Kate asks, nudging your arm.
You scoff defensively, “I didn’t mouth off--”
“She told him to put his son in therapy,” Julia explains with a prideful smirk. “Rightfully so, too. I would’ve done the same if I ever saw him.”
“Damn,” Kate chuckles. “Let’s hope that he took your advice.”
“And that he isn’t pissed at me for it,” you mutter. “I haven’t heard anything since.”
Kate and Julia share a look before Julia says, “He’s definitely not mad.”
Finally, you give yourself the chance to look over at him, and to let him see you looking.
You’ll admit, it is weird seeing him out of the suit, let alone in short sleeves. You’ve never seen his arms. They’re…nice. Muscular, more than you expected. Not that you’ve wondered about his arms, though. Or any part of him. Because he’s Jack’s dad, so you should not be thinking about him this way.
Still, you indulge, just for this moment. He keeps your eyes only for a minute before his attention is drawn elsewhere to the screaming kids practicing their warmups (if that’s what those can be called). He’s smiling from ear to ear, something you’ve never seen. The tiny smiles you managed out of him during conferences hardly ever looked genuine. This, though, this one is.
“You should talk to him,” Julia whispers, nearly scaring you shitless. You completely forgot where you were for a minute.
“No,” you shake your head, tearing your eyes away. “That’s practically asking for him to yell at me.”
“He won’t do that,” Julia chides.
“Well, I don’t know,” Kate grimaces. “Parents are finicky. I got yelled at last year by one who I thought was the sweetest ever. Until her kid didn’t pass a science test.”
“See?” you say, gesturing to Kate. “We have no idea what he’ll be like.”
“Besides that he’s looking at you again,” Julia says. “So he’s clearly interested in talking to you.”
“Then he can walk over here himself.”
Julia raises her eyebrows, shrugging. “Be careful what you wish for.”
You roll your eyes. Aaron is too busy with the kids and their game is about to start, so there’s no way he’ll walk over. Even if you speak after, Jack will be with him, so nothing will be said. It’s fine.
+++
Aaron’s mouth is dry. He feels like he forgot how to breathe properly.
He didn’t know you’d be here, and here you are. Beautiful. Except he shouldn’t think that, because you’re his son’s teacher. It’s inappropriate. But the way the sun hits your skin…beautiful. You’re beautiful.
He needs to focus. He’s supposed to be coaching the kids, not gawking at a teacher like some idiot.
To make matters worse, Rossi notices, and only silently raises his eyebrows.
Aaron told Rossi about your parent-teacher conference, and how he should’ve put Jack in therapy sooner -- along with himself. Rossi asked him if he thanked you for your advice, but Aaron never found the right time. He half-heartedly thanked you at the conference, but it wasn’t as genuine as it should’ve been.
He meant to call you, or send an email, but he never did. Truthfully, he’s been terrified. He feels incredibly stupid to have not gotten Jack help sooner, and even more stupid that he finds you as attractive as he does. Can he be any worse of a person, seriously?
And now, you’re here. At Jack’s soccer game. Which, he guesses he should’ve realized sooner that a lot of Jack’s classmates are on this team, too. And others from different classes, but still in his grade. It was only a matter of time before one of the kids asked a teacher to come. It would only take one, and clearly it did, and he’s unprepared.
Wildly unprepared. And wishing he put on a better shirt.
+++
The soccer game is a disaster, but a wonderful one.
The kids are too young for points to be counted, so it’s just a game of fun chaos. Teams are blurred and never really followed. But they looked like they had a blast out there, so that’s all that mattered.
You, Julia, and Kate split up to see your kids and give out as many high-fives as you possibly can. You listen to their rambles and congratulate them on playing so well. The parents stand by with smiles, occasionally one piping up to thank you for coming.
Aaron is there, too, surprisingly. He’s still smiling bigger than ever.
There’s a man with him, too, who Jack calls Uncle Dave. Jack has mentioned him in class before, and he’s actually Aaron’s coworker. He’s smiling, too, just not as wide, and he keeps glancing between you and Aaron.
Just when you think you’re in the clear, Aaron tells Jack to go with Uncle Dave because he needs to talk to you about something.
You catch Julia and Kate’s eyes when Aaron is left alone with you, and your stomach turns. He doesn’t look angry, but then again, the parents never look angry at first.
“I just wanted to thank you,” Aaron begins, turning so the sun isn’t in his eyes as much. He’s still squinting, and it’s adorable. You wonder why he didn’t wear sunglasses. “I picked a therapist from the list you gave me for Jack, and it’s really been helping him. A lot, so, I just wanted to thank you for giving that to me.”
You blink, stunned. “You’re welcome,” you say slowly before you gain your composure. “I’m very glad that it’s been helping. And to see him playing soccer,” you gesture to the field with a smile. “He seems to really enjoy it.”
“Oh, he does,” Aaron chuckles. “He can’t get enough of it. He talks about it all the time.”
All the time. So maybe he’s spending more time with Jack, then. “Good, I’m really glad to hear that.”
You pause, waiting for him to say something else. The awkward silence lingers for a little too long, and you know what’s coming next.
“I was wondering,” he starts, and lowers his voice a little. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime.”
As much as you’d love to say yes, you can’t let yourself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, that would just be inappropriate.”
“No, no, not as a date,” he backtracks, confusing you. “Just to thank you for-- For helping me get Jack in to see a therapist.”
You raise an eyebrow. “To thank me…for telling you what you should’ve done in the first place?”
He sputters for a moment, clearly losing his bearings. “No, I mean--”
“Listen, Mr. Hotchner,” you smile sweetly, trying to contain yourself. “What would you like? A gold star? For getting your son a therapist after he went through an incredibly traumatic event?”
He doesn’t say anything, and somehow that makes your anger and annoyance worse.
“Listen. The fact of the matter is that you should’ve kept your son in therapy since he lost his mother. And continue to keep him in therapy until he’s old enough to decide if he wants to continue seeing one or not. Because when my mom died, I didn’t get to have a therapist. We couldn’t afford it, and my dad was too out of his mind to even care. It nearly killed me, and my siblings. So don’t tell me that you want to thank me for something that I never should’ve had to do in the first place. You should’ve paid more attention to your son’s needs. Especially since you can afford services to genuinely help him.”
Your voice stayed quiet, thankfully, because you didn’t need everyone to hear you mouthing off to Aaron once again. You realize only halfway through that maybe you shouldn’t be saying these things in a setting such as this, but you’re too into it to stop.
Julia and Kate heard all of it, though. You can see their jaws open, eyes wide. Did you go too far? You don’t know and part of you doesn’t care. It’s the truth, and it hits far too close to home for you to say nothing at all.
Still, to cover your bases, you add one last thing. “I apologize if that was harsh, but it needed to be said. I want what’s best for my kids. And sometimes, that means getting their parents to see that they need to do better.”
You pause, and he nods, and says another quiet “thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” you murmur. And to keep things from stinging any more, you walk away.
Julia and Kate catch up with you on the way back to your car, both too stunned to say a word until you’re inside.
“Damn,” Julia whispers. “Damn.”
“Holy shit,” Kate says with a small laugh. “Tell ‘em.”
“Yeah,” you exhale loudly. “Let’s just hope I still have a job by Monday.”
+++
You do still have a job come Monday, with surprisingly no meeting with the principal, either. Or a phone call.
You’re suspicious, but trying not to be. Maybe it’s all fine.
You convince yourself that it’s completely fine until it really is. Until you start seeing Aaron occasionally, picking Jack up from school. You aren’t sure how often he’s been doing it, because the only reason you saw him is that you were forced into car rider duty. You’ve always been on the bus lane, but they needed another teacher out front, and that’s where you saw him first.
It caught you off guard the first time, honestly. It had been three weeks since the soccer game, since you told him off in front of everyone. And what did he do this time when he saw you?
He waved. He smiled. And then he scooped Jack up into his arms.
She won’t own up to it, but you’re positive Julia saw the interaction because you haven’t worked the bus lane since. Because Julia suddenly volunteered for it, taking your place.
Now, it’s a bit of a routine. Aaron picks Jack up almost every day, although sometimes there are a few stretches of three to four days where he isn’t present. Those days, you see Jessica, and she smiles at you as well, but it’s different. You got so used to seeing Aaron those days, that when you see Jessica, it feels strange. It begins to feel the way it used to feel when you saw Aaron picking Jack up.
It makes you smile. You’re glad to see Aaron taking the time to see Jack, to put in the time — finally — knowing he has the means to be able to do this.
+++
For the rest of the school year, this is how you see Aaron Hotchner.
Neither of you say a word to each other, except for the final parent-teacher conference — which he arrives early for. The conference is entirely professional, and he doesn’t mention the past. Neither do you.
The final week of school fast approaches, and you’re looking for decorations to put up in the classroom. You try to make the last week special because you know they’re just as ready for summer break as you are.
Part of your “decorations” consists of candy that you’ll put on their desk every morning, which means you’re in the grocery store, in desperate need of candy to entertain your kids. Five different kinds. Something extra special on the last day, though. They’ll get out two hours earlier, but they don’t know that yet (the parents do).
Right as you turn down the candy aisle, you stop dead in your tracks, your cart nearly smacking into someone else’s. When you look up, you realize who it is.
“Mr. Hotchner!” you blurt.
He smiles that soft smile. “Please, call me Aaron.”
You’re not used to calling parents by their first name. You know he’s tried to get you to call him Aaron a few times, but you can’t ever bring yourself to. Instead, you change subjects, peering into his cart.
“Grocery shopping? For…” You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t even have a good joke. Why do you have so many marshmallows?” He has like…six big bags. Of varying sizes, too.
“Long story,” he says, sheepish. “Jack wants to build something out of marshmallows.”
“Does he want to build a whole country?” you chuckle.
“Sort of, yeah,” Aaron laughs. “He said he wants to build a whole city, then eat it. His words.”
“Wonderful,” you grin. “Sounds like a blast.” And a good idea. You might steal that for next year.
“What are you here for?” Aaron asks, nodding toward your empty cart.
“Candy, for the kids,” you reply. “I want to give them a different kind every day for the last week, just to make it more fun.”
Aaron smiles wider this time. “They’ll love that.”
“Thanks,” you say, mirroring his smile.
You don’t know what’s gotten into you. Or him, quite frankly. Building marshmallow sculptures with Jack? Unheard of. But you leave it alone, just glad he’s spending more time with his son.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to shopping,” Aaron says, gesturing down the aisle. “See you on Monday.”
Baffled, you blink, then nod. “Yeah. See you Monday.”
You see Aaron every day of next week to pick Jack up, and you get to see Jack’s smile grow every day.
On Friday, you head back inside to your classroom, ready to pack things up. Thankfully, you’re returning to this room next year, so you don’t need to pack everything up.
As a tradition, you, Julia, and Kate go out to celebrate the end of the year, so you have to go home and get ready for the night ahead.
+++
Aaron doesn’t know why he let Rossi convince him to come out tonight. Jack’s at a sleepover at a friend’s house, so Aaron has nothing to do — theoretically. Until Rossi decided to drag him out.
Now, he’s sitting in a booth at a bar with a jazz band playing, and he’s wondering how many people Rossi can possibly know. Four people have already stopped to say hi, and they’ve barely been here for half an hour.
As Rossi talks with another friend, Aaron lets his eyes wander around the place, spotting the door when it opens. And you walk in.
He quickly averts his eyes, shifting in his seat. It’s enough to catch Rossi’s attention, and he gives Aaron a strange look, until he sees you at the bar with your two friends from Jack’s soccer game.
Aaron keeps his eyes trained on his whiskey, nodding absently when Rossi says he’s heading to the restroom.
What Rossi is actually doing is heading to the bar to intercept you and your friends, putting all three of your drinks on his tab.
“Thanks,” you chuckle, never one to argue with a free drink.
“You look familiar,” Julia blurts out.
“Dave,” Rossi introduces himself. “I’m a friend of Aaron Hotchner’s. I went with him to a few of Jack’s soccer games last season.”
“That’s where I’ve seen you,” you say.
Dave smiles. His back is turned to Aaron, so he can’t see Aaron glaring at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing up there talking to you.
“Aaron’s here with me, actually,” Dave says casually. “He’s at the booth just behind us if you’d like to see him.”
Kate nudges your arm harshly. “She would.”
“Actually, I don’t know if that’s—”
“Go,” Julia urges. “Why not?”
You give them both a look. “Fine,” you cave. “I’ll be right back.”
Kicking yourself for caving so easily (because you really would like to see him), you walk over to the booth where Aaron sits. Thankfully, his back is toward you, so he doesn’t see you coming.
He beams a smile when he sees you though, standing up to greet you. “Hey, what are you doing in here?”
“Kate and Julia drug me out,” you confess, idling for a moment as you both try to decide if you should shake hands, hug, or just stand here. “You?”
“Dave,” Aaron nods, chuckling. Just standing here it is. “Did he send you?”
“They all did,” you nod toward the bar, where they’re all watching like hawks, no doubt. “Mind if I sit?”
“Not at all,” he gestures to the empty space. “How are you?”
“Good, we’re out celebrating the end of the year,” you reply, walking around the table and sitting down on the plush booth cushion. This place is fancier than you would’ve chosen, but Julia heard good things about it from a friend, so you ended up here anyway. “How are you doing?”
“Good, although Dave drug me out for drinks because apparently,” he lifts his drink, “I don’t get out enough.”
“Y’know, that’s funny, my friends tell me the exact same thing,” you laugh. “Dave bought our drinks.”
“I knew he was doing something suspicious,” Aaron jokes, glancing back toward the bar. Dave and your friends have taken over three stools, clearly set on giving you and Aaron some time alone. “Sorry again if he forced you over here.”
“No, he definitely didn’t. My friends did,” you assure him, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I have to ask, how did Jack’s marshmallow city building go?”
Immediately, Aaron digs his phone out of his pocket. “I have a lot of pictures, I’ll just show you.” He unlocks his phone and goes to his camera roll, already smiling at the thought of them. “He had a blast. We went through so many toothpicks. We both had stomachaches by the end of it from eating so many marshmallows.”
He turns his phone to show you the pictures, and without thinking, you scoot closer to him. To get a better look at the pictures, you tell yourself, but you know that isn’t the full truth.
“Oh my god,” you laugh, grinning from ear to ear. “This so huge!”
“It covered our entire kitchen!” Aaron laughs with you, a sweet sound you wish you heard more often. “I didn’t tell Jessica about it, so she had a heart attack when she came over the next day.”
“I bet,” you nod seriously, swiping on his phone as he holds it toward you. “Goodness.” You look up at Aaron. “Did you guys eat all of them?”
“We’ve had a lot of hot chocolate.”
“It’s May.”
“I know,” he deadpans, feigning annoyance, but then he breaks into a smile. “I’ll admit, I’ve been snacking on them maybe a little more than I should every time I go into the kitchen.”
“I would do the same,” you chuckle. “No judgment here.”
He smiles at you and tucks his phone away back in his pocket, and neither of you move from how close you’ve gotten.
“How are you planning to spend your summer break?” he asks, taking a sip of his whiskey. You try not to stare at him too much.
“Lots of getting ready for next year,” you reply, rotating your glass in your hand, focusing on it instead. “Mostly reading for fun, I don’t get to do that a lot during the school year when I’m reading for my kids and grading and such. I plan to do a lot of nothing, basically,” you laugh. “What about you?”
“The same, hopefully,” he says, which surprises you. And he can tell, because he elaborates. “I took a lot of time off from work. I work from home now, essentially. If I absolutely need to go in, then I do, but so far, Dave’s been able to handle it.”
You knew a big change had been made, especially since he’s been picking Jack up from school everyday. But hearing the confirmation makes your heart warm. “I’m really glad to hear that.”
“Me too,” he says. “I know we’ve been over this, but I wanted to thank you for what you said, at Jack’s game—”
Mortified, you interrupt him. “Oh god, I hoped you had forgotten about that.”
“I didn’t forget—”
“I was rude.”
“What you said needed to be said and I’m glad you did,” he protests sincerely. “You shouldn’t have had to say anything, but you did, and I appreciate that.”
His sincerity stuns you. You blink, no words able to come out.
“We can move on from it now,” he says, noticing your hesitation. “I just wanted to be clear that I’m not angry with you for what you said, I’ve actually been the complete opposite.”
“Well,” you chuckle, trying to make light of this. “You didn’t call the school demanding I be suspended, so I knew you couldn’t be that upset with me.”
He stares at you, eyes widening. “Do parents do that?”
“Some, yeah,” you nod. “They don’t exactly like being told by a single teacher with no kids of her own that their parenting skills are shit.”
He laughs, taking a sip of his whiskey. You watch him raise the glass to his lips, but look away before he can catch you. You smile down at your own drink. This is embarrassing.
You thought this little crush -- or whatever it is -- had gone away since you hadn’t spoken to him since the soccer game. Sure, you started to look specifically for him in the pickup area, but that was for Jack. That wasn’t for you. Or, at least, that’s the story you spun for yourself.
“What’s on your list to read this summer?” Aaron asks, bringing your eyes back to his. He’s smiling. “I’ve been meaning to read more -- outside of the books Jack and I read.”
You remember Jack telling you about The Magic Treehouse series that Uncle Dave got him for Christmas, and how his dad was reading them with him.
“What, The Magic Treehouse isn’t enough for you?” you tease Aaron, and he laughs, that sweet sound you can’t get enough of.
You tell him about the books on your shelf at home, the ones you got years ago and have yet to read, and the others that you got this year because you couldn’t resist. He listens to each one, never once taking his eyes off of you.
“I am not going to remember all of these names,” he chuckles.
“I can text them to you,” you offer, a grin creeping up your cheeks.
He mirrors your expression. “You stole my line.”
“Oh, that was your line?” you ask, laughing as you pull out your phone. “Fine, fine, you can have it back.”
“No, you said it first,” he says, still grinning. He hands you his phone as you give him yours. “I’m bad at this anyway.”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, typing in your contact information before handing his phone back. “I’ve had a pretty good time.”
He waits a moment, just basking in your smile, the feel of your fingertips brushing against his when he returns your phone. “Me too.”
The night doesn’t end there, as the two of you continue talking. Another round of drinks is sent to your table by Dave and your friends who wave enthusiastically when you and Aaron look over at them.
“Free drinks, at least,” you shrug. “How much money does Dave have?”
“Don’t ask,” Aaron shakes his head. “He’ll never tell.”
As you both finish your first drink and head into the second, you scoot even closer. You bring your legs underneath you on the booth, getting comfortable as you and Aaron start to talk about your favorite movies. He tries to be sneaky and put his arm around you, but you notice and can’t help the giggle that escapes you.
“I told you I’m bad at this.”
“No, it’s sweet!” you protest, leaning into his chest. “It’s very nice, I don’t mind.”
He moves his arm from the back of the booth to your shoulders then, his hand resting on your arm. “This okay?”
“It’s perfect,” you smile softly, turning your head to look up at him. “What movie were we on?”
He stares so intently, searching your face. You watch as his eyes gaze over every inch, dropping to your lips, then back to your pupils. “I have no idea.”
“Me either,” you murmur, silently hoping for a kiss. Silently hoping that he’s hoping, too.
And he is. “I know our friends are watching us,” he whispers. “But can I kiss you right now?”
“Yeah,” you grin. “I was about to ask.”
“Well now we’re even,” he says, leaning closer as he smiles. You tilt your head, meeting his lips halfway, not wanting to wait any longer. You’ve quieted these feelings for far too long.
He kisses you long and sweet, his free hand coming to cup your face as yours search for stability in his shoulders. He knocks the breath out of your lungs, literally, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Aaron pulls back for just a moment, just far enough to say, “Was that worth a gold star?”
You laugh, playfully swatting his chest. “Yeah, Aaron,” you say, looking up at him. “It was.”
#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotchner x teacher!reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner x you#hotch x fem!reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#aaron hotchner angst#aaron hotchner fluff#hotch angst#hotch fluff#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#aaron hotchner one shot
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Can I request "The red string theory" with 2012 Leo x Reader? It's basically when two people are connected and bound to meet when the time is right, regardless of the place or circumstance. (Could be platonic or romantic!)
I've been craving 2012 stuff for so longgg!
(I love and adore your work a bunch you have no idea💗!!! this is actually my first time requesting something. I've been so freaking nervous 😿)
-🦈💙
The Red Thread of Fate (Fluff)
2012!Leonardo x reader
A/N: Soulmate stuff! I love it! I’ve always loved reading other people’s soulmate fanfics, so I’m happy to finally make one of my own. And I hope that you find this fitting for your first request😊 Love ya bunches!💙
Warning: Most likely spelling💙
East Asian folklore explains that everybody is tied to their future partner, by a small invisible red string. Chinese mythology has the string tied around the destiny partners’ ankles, while in Japan it was often shown with the string tied around the woman’s little finger and the man’s thumb, even though nowadays it was usually shown only around the little finger on each person. And that was just the versions you were aware of.
You guessed that you had a string too. Sometimes you could feel it, and sometimes you couldn’t. Small, sometimes tightening a little around your pinky, pulling ever so slightly at you until you would move, but nothing would come of it. No one would be standing there and waiting for you when you walked into the other room, and well, suddenly you couldn’t feel the pull on your finger anymore, leaving you standing with a strange empty feeling inside.
Other times you swear you saw it. For a split second you could swear that you saw something small and red tied around your little finger, with a thread like string trailing off from it. However, with the blink of an eye, it was gone, or pinky once again looking as plain as ever.
As time progressed, you find yourself wondering more and more, your searching for answers becoming more and more prevalent. You had long longed to find that special someone, that you could share your life with. The one that could make you feel like the world's prettiest and luckiest person, and that you in turn would make feel the same. The one that you would be willing to work through ups and downs with, knowing there could be no highs without any lows. The one that you would find at the end of this invisible red string you found at the end of your pinky finger, every now and again teasing you with its elusive existens, and the knowledge that your future partner was out there somewhere, probably looking and thinking about you, the same way you were looking and thinking about for them.
But no matter how many times you found yourself dreaming and wondering about your soulmate, you had never thought that he would be close by. So close that he would be under your feet, literally.
One day you found yourself sitting in your bedroom, lost in thoughts, dreaming about that face you hadn’t seen yet. With all of your responsibilities laid out on your bed before you in paper form, you simply could not concentrate, your thoughts continuously wandering off to better places, only to find yourself back in your bedroom, with your work and homework laying out in front of you, just waiting for you to get them done.
You let out a frustrated sigh, letting your eyes scan over the paper in your hand. What was the point of sitting here and dreaming? Dreaming wasn’t going to bring your soulmate to you any faster. If this red string around your finger was as true as you wanted to believe it was, then you couldn’t force it. Your soulmate wouldn’t come around before time is ready for it, so spending too much time dwelling on it was not helping it. It was better to get going with your life and let it come to you along the way. So with yet another sigh, you took a hold of your pen, looking down over the paper one more time.
Then, as if the universe heard your thoughts as they ran through your head, your window smashed, sending someone hurling into your bedroom, landing directly on your floor, glass shards flying everywhere. You let out an ear piercing scream, standing up on your bed, looking down at the guy on your floor, groaning as he sat up, rubbing his head with green three fingered hand… Green three fingered hand!?
You stared in a mixture of awe, shock and a little fear at the green figure on your floor. Green, with a darker green colored shell on his back, his torso enclosed with a light brown plastron, his eyes wrapped with a blue bandana, with eye holes making his blue eyes visible, when he looked up at you. A turtle? A humanoid turtle?
Silence fell between the two of you, both of you staring at each other on high alert, unsure of what to do. After what felt like an eternity of looking into his light blue eyes, the turtles slowly lifted his hands, trying to signal to you that he had no intentions to harm you. But that was not what you noticed. Instead you noticed something thin and red, tied around his pinky finger. A red thread.
You took in a sharp breath when you saw the thread continue off his finger in a small line, your eyes slowly following it until you saw it coming to an end at your finger - tied around your pinky. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, your gaze shaking as you looked back at the turtle man on your bedroom floor. No way.
The turtle seemed just as shocked as you, his eyes flickering between you and his hand, before slowly taking a hold of his tied hand, looking at it like he couldn’t believe what he saw. Whatever he and his brothers had been fighting out on the other roof was long forgotten, with the sight in front of him being the only thing he could think of. He had always dreamed of this moment, but never dared believing it could actually happen. Him, a mutant turtle living in the sewers, actually meeting his soulmate, a human.
Still standing on your bed, just shoulders slowly came down from the tens positions, your lungs letting go of the breath you had been holding. His round, yet strangely handsome face calmed something in you. Something before now, had never noticed, was so turbulent, slowly coming to a calming halt.
“I- I’m (Y/N)”, you said in a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, his mouth slowly coming agape. “W- who are you?”
“L- Leo”, he answered, with a stammer letting you know that he was just as nervous as you. “Leonardo”.
“Leonardo”, you repeated with a small nod, not noticing the shiver he felt when he said your name. “Cool name”.
“T- thank you”, he said, slowly coming to a stand on your bedroom floor, coming to his full height, making a butterfly burst to life somewhere deep within your stomach. “Uhm…”, he continued, unsure on how to proceed. “H- have you heard of, uhm… the red thread of fate?”, he asked, holding up his hand with the red threat.
“Yes”, you answered, holding up your own.
Silence fell over the two of you once more, this time with small nervous smiles, both of you wreaking and turning your minds, finding something to say, that didn’t involve just smiling at each other like two idiots that were slowly falling in love. That was when you were interrupted by the sound of Leo’s brothers, calling out for him to help them with what threw him into your room in the first place.
“Shit, I have to go”, Leo said, looking from the broken window to you. “Listen, I- I will be back, I promise! But me and my brothers have a little, uh, problem to take care of”.
“Brothers?”, you asked, your unsurety washing away by the moment as you stepped down from your bed. “There are more of you?”
“There is”, Leo smiled, seeming to calm down when you stepped closer to him, getting lost in the thought of your once again, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. Was he so lucky? So lucky that not only would he meet his soulmate, but get to kiss his soulmate the same day. By your close proximity and your awestruck face it seemed like it. He could just lean forward and do it. He could just kiss you right now, while you smiled at him, seeming to just be waiting for him to do it-.
“Dammit, Leo! We’re losing our shells out here!”
“Oh! Yeah! Shit! Sorry, Raph!”, Leo said, before quickly running for the window, stepping one foot on the window ledge before turning towards you one last time. “I will be back, I promise… And sorry about the window, I’ll get that fixed for you”.
“Thank you, Leo. I’ll be waiting for you”, you smiled, causing the turtle's heart to skip. He stared at you for a moment, feeling his heart jump around inside his chest, wondering if all of this was a dream.
“See you soon, (Y/N)”, Leo said, dwelling in the fuzzy feeling he felt when he spoke your name.
“LEO! AARRRRGH!! HE GOT DONNIE’S ANKLE! HE GOT DONNIE’S ANKLE!”
“I’m coming, Mikey!”, Leo yelled before hurrying up the fire escape. You quickly ran to the window, wishing to see him one last time, only to find him already on your roof, in the last second before he leaped over the alleyway below with ease, running to whatever situation his brothers were in. You stood back in awe, a chuckle of disbelief pushing past your lips. You had just met your soulmate - the man that had been waiting at the red of your red thread - and he was a turtle. A humanoid turtle with the ability to jump over alleyways. If you decided to tell anyone, they would never believe you. And even you wondered for a moment if you had made the whole thing up. That was until you realized you no longer felt a tug in your little finger, but instead a storm of butterflies in your stomach.
#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt leonardo#tmnt leo#tmnt x reader#tmnt x reader fluff#tmnt leo x reader#tmnt leonardo x reader#tmnt 2012#tmnt 2012 x reader#tmnt 2012 leo#tmnt 2012 leonardo#tmnt 2012 leo x reader#tmnt 2012 leonardo x reader#tmnt raphael#tmnt donatello#tmnt michelangelo#tmnt raph#tmnt donnie#tmnt mikey#tmnt 2012 raph#tmnt 2012 raphael#tmnt 2012 donnie#tmnt 2012 donatello#tmnt 2012 mikey#tmnt 2012 michelangelo#tmnt 2012 x reader fluff#tmnt leo x reader fluff#tmnt leonardo x reader fluff#tmnt 2012 leo x reader fluff
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kunikida's monday, wednesday, and friday 12-5 tutoring sessions have been going on for a longgg time
anyone is welcome, you don't have to come to every session
when atsushi joins, kunikida warns him about akutagawa, adding "run away from him, except if its on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays 12-5"
atsushi: what? why then?
kunikida: then he is just another student
atsushi of course joins them (he also has the unfair advantage that everyone in the ada are helping him out but eh perks of family or whatever)
the akutagawa siblings, atsushi, kenji, lucy, random unnamed ppl, other mafia people idk my brain stopped working, etc all attend. kunikida's slightly changed the curriculum depending on where the student is
some people only come once in a while -- like chuuya, who comes in once every other week to fill in gaps in his education but doesn't need classes like that (idk he hasnt had formal education but man knows physics with ease so its really just filling small gaps, or pursuing random areas of curiosity for him ya know)
when no one can show up, dazai shows up and kunikida explains to him concepts that he mightve known but not the technical explanations or definitions
akutagawa, after tearing of atsushi's leg on a tuesday, now it being wednesday: ...would you like to share my textbook
atsushi:
atsushi: yes please
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RUINS, how do you think gojo's reaction would be with her best friend (they were a trio together with satosugu) finding out that sukuna is interested in her
he already lost Suguru, i don't think he could deal with the fact that he could lose her too
do you think he would go crazy? would you try to stay calm?
i think a man would be seriously worried about the slightest possibility of her being interested too
OH LORD, I CAN SEE THE DRAMA BREWING.
Well, Gojo was devastated after Suguru, so I def think he'd grow more protective of her after losing him because he can't bear the thought of losing someone he loves ever again. So now our silly man is super-duper protective of her and cares for her deeply, getting worried even if she gets hurt in the slightest.
Then comes Suku, the troublemaker— the HOMEWRECKER (lol). He can't resist it. Nobody had the guts to talk back to him in a longgg time, so when you do for the first time in ages, he's so incredibly and greatly amused that he can't resist spewing a few comments (it's his love language) through his mouth on Itadori's cheek whenever you're around. Of course Yuji tries to silence him by slapping a hand on his weirdly positioned mouths.
But one day Gojo finds out. Maybe he's out treating his students and Yuji goes like, "Oh I think Sukuna likes Y/N-sensei." and boom. He has officially lost it. Like, whenever you're near Itadori now, he's with you, close to you, keeping an eye out for Sukuna. Sukuna notices, and of course adds fuel to the fire by saying stuff that only makes him more anxious.
Because had it been someone else, he would've shooed them at a glance. He's the strongest, no one would have the guts the compete with him if they wanted to win your heart. But this is Sukuna we're speaking of. His only potential rival. It would be a bit...difficult for him.
If you show the slightest bit of interest in Suku, Gojo's gonna be mad. When he sees you throw a flirty comment back at Sukuna, he's so worried. All his 'Oh, I'm the strongest' persona dissolves instantly and he'll get all pouty and scowl and be clingy. He'd not rest till you cup his face and kiss his forehead and assure him that you're not interested in leaving his side. Because he can't lose you. He already lost his best friend which left the both of you devastated, no way he's going through that again.
And well, good luck to you— the strongest sorcerer in history wants you, but the strongest sorcerer of today was in no way, ever, letting you leave his side.
#ruins asks#ruins posts#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#gojo x reader#sukuna imagine#sukuna x y/n#jjk imagine#gojo x you#gojo x y/n
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g!p aespa and their roomie
(thoughts)
g!p aespa x f!reader non idol au
notes: this has been on my mind for a longgg ass time and i think i’ll write more about this au. it’s also like 1am while im writing this oopsies.
cw: crack (in a way), g!p, dacryphilia(?), SMUT, cockwarming, degredation, praise, marking, overstim, edging
first time staying in a dorm and all of your roommates have cocks??? life is good.
GISELLE HAS A FAT COCK AND KNOWS HOW TO USE IT WELL. knows you’re a perv, staring her up and down everyday. from when she just came out the shower to her coming home from work yeah.. perv. as if she isnt herself. looking at your boobs like she needs them badly. she does. first time you came into her room she signals you to sit down next to her. since its the start of the term you dont know each other that well but the closeness between you two would say otherwise. only knowing eachother for at least two weeks to your surprise she’s comfortably touchy with you. maybe because of the unsurprising sexual tension you both have. leaning in to you with her low cut shirt showing just a smidge of cleavage whispering dirty words into your ear to rile you up calling you her “good little slut” or “her whore” DAMN she wants to fuck you so bad. rips off your clothes desperately tearing your panties off real fast. she lets you ride her mhm mhm. when i say her cock is big i mean it's biiiiiig. 10 inches to be exact. as much as she’s lengthy she’s equally girthy as well. hard to get adjusted to but you finally fit her cock in your cunt. helps you ride out the pain for a while before shoving her entire length into you the sudden pleasure making you scream her name <33 SHE LOVES COWGIRL POSITION SO MUCH ITS CRAZY. watching you bounce on her hard dick while your boobs move up and down is her favourite thing. doesn’t hesitate to sit up and suck and lick your nipples leaving dozens of hickeys on your chest. such a hard dom, will literally shove your head into the pillow, pounding hard and rough from behind. definitely an ass smacker you can’t tell me otherwise. has you crying ever time she slams her cock into you smacking your ass to gain even more guttural moans from you. she goes to gym so you know she can pick you up with ease and throw you around, she does exactly that. treating you like your a doll whenever she wants to switch positions. your on all fours and out of nowhere you’re now on your back with her hovering over you, teasing your entrance again with her tip. 100% a massive tease as well. denying your orgasm for hours on end until your messed up crying on her bed begging on your hands and knees to cum. eventually she does let you cum, but overstimulates you for as long as she’s edged you. i jst think she’s a really teasy hard dom UGH. she also seems like the type to take videos and photos whenever you have sex. has a hidden photo album filled with videos of you riding her dick or photos with hickeys all over your body YUP.
karina has a massive dick but doesn't know how to use it. after actively listening to you and aeris, almost everyday, late night activities she wanted to join in on the fun albeit kinda embarrassed about asking if she could. is so caring during intercourse, almost like you’re a real couple. she’s slow and steady making sure that you’re feeling good always asking if you’re okay. the type of person to get hard off of praise. you could call her a “good girl” after she’d cum in you and she’d immediately get hard again. yeah she has a massive cock probably around the same size as aeri’s but a little more smaller. veiny and kinda leans a little to the left. HOWEVER she genuinely doesn’t know what to do with it, so most of the times you’ve had sex you’re the one to lead. it’s pretty unusual for her as she’s always taken the lead outside of sex meaning she’s a little bit awkward in these situations UGHH she’s so lost. her spooning you whilst you’re watching a movie, her eyes glued onto whatever is on the screen then she feels a sudden pressure on her crotch? oh its just you subtly grinding on her bulge. she’s red in the face and can’t control her hard on awhh so cute. slithering your hand into her boxers, you slowly move your hand up and down her shaft, jacking her off underneath the blanket saying that she should just relax, lowkey scared that one of the other roommates would walk in on you two but at the same time it excites her. feeling of getting caught makes her head spin, cums hard and loud once you pick up your pace. genuinely can’t control her hard ons fr. you could be chilling doing your studies, you look to your left and you see her with one arm on the door frame looking like she needs to be inside of you ASAP. doesn’t like to disturb the other roommates though. rubbing her cock with your hands and your mouth kissing up and down her shaft sends her brain into overdrive. using one of your hands to cover her mouth making sure that her whimpers and moans are almost inaudible. either that or she’s heavily making out with you once you’ve finished using your mouth on her, again, making sure that she’s not moaning out loud. my favourite switch <33 whenever she decides to dom, or whenever you ask her to dom you, she’s so careful. doesn’t have many hard kinks she’s more on the vanilla side. loves missionary with you, anything that gets her really close to your face she loves. seeing how you react when she goes a bit faster or thrusts a bit harder reassures her that she’s doing a good job on pleasuring you. fucks like she’s desperate when she’s near her climax. doesn’t matter what position you’re in, but whenever shes nearing her high she’ll speed up her thrusting grabbing whatever she can, the sheets, your hair, hips, hands literally anything to give her some leverage. disregarding the fact that the other roommates are still in the dorm, she often moans loudly nearing her climax.
winter is a little on the smaller side but hear me out.. she’s a grower. has the most sensitive pink tip. another victim of you and aeri’s late night adventures. (early morning adventures as well 💀) she’s overall really really sensitive OH MY GOD. one day while you were hanging out with winter in her car you accidentally opened one of the videos aeri had taken of you the night before. then boom, you turn your head to the right and you see winter blushing harddd. and that’s when winter had her first blowjob yaayyyy!!! personally i think she’s a massive nerd, vigin, loser and i love that for her. awkward air turned into a heavy make out session at the back of the car, thankfully her windows are tinted ;)) winter not knowing where to put her hands so she just roams across your body from your chest, thighs, hips, neck. she’s touching you everywhere. she’s so clingy pls don’t let her go :(( gets confused when you break the kiss just to slowly go down and unbutton the jeans she’s wearing. to your surprise, and liking, her dick is surprisingly big? shivers when you kiss the tip of her cock, precum already dripping down. she’s so sensitive its crazy i will not stfu about it. taking her whole cock in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head. whimpers spew from her pretty lips. it honestly feels too good for her to the point of incoherency, repeating “feels so good” “too good” “gonna cum” everytime you suck on her tip. head grabber? head pusher??? pushes your head furthering her cock into your throat making you gag a little but then cums at the sensation of you gagging. after her high you decide to spice things up a little for her yaaayy winters first pussy experience!!! straddling her hips, you take off your soaking panties, inserting her already hard cock into your pussy. she shrieks, grabbing your hips saying that it “feels so tight” “feels really warm” pretty much on the verge of cumming once again. overstimulating her is so easy aaahhh. cockwarming lover <33 sometimes she gets too busy with studying but you’re always ‘distracting’ her. you decide to cockwarm her while she studies for her next exam, occasionally shifting around in her lap earning a couple of cute whimpers. will have sex anywhere!!! she’s in the kitchen making ramen when you come up behind her, pressing your chest into her back. immediate turn on. whispering to her that she should take off her pants and she complies “awhh what a good girl”. getting on your knees to pull out her cock telling her to focus on cooking the food. playing with her tip with your tongue while you stroke her shaft making her legs shake from all the pleasure.
ningning is average size but just a bit more bigger than winter. also pretty girthy too. i don’t see much top ningning on tumblr but in this au i see her as a top leaning switch YESSSSSIRR🫡🫡. ning is such a secretive whore. pretends to not know what sex as soon as she sees you taking off your shirt she’s ready to pounce on you. YET AGAIN another victim of you and aeri’s fun little moments. at first she didnt seem all too interested in you at the beginning of the term but she grew somewhat accustomed to your presence LMAO. you had to ask her a question for something? lets say it was something to do with the school year since you were both in the same year. not answering her phone nor opening the door to her room when you knocked, you decided to waltz in, patience running out. LORD she’s sat there with her cock out looking at one of the polaroids aeri had taken of you. you both stare at each other in deafening silence, until she giggles, ushering you towards her bed. before anything she preps you by eating you out. taking both of your legs and hooking it over her shoulders, groaning into you pussy, circling her tongue around your clit. professional pussy eater i think so. already close to cumming she takes your legs off of her shoulders, positioning your legs so that you’re comfortable in front of her then grabbing you by the hips slamming herself into you wet cunt, forcing her entire cock into your hole. her technique is crazy, thrusting in and out of you rhythmically one hand playing with your clit and the other rubbinf circles on the side of your hips. the type of person to laugh during sex, its endearing and its cute but it’s so hot???? she’d be fucking you so hard that you’re crying but she’d be giggling saying that you’re “doing so well”. definitely takes videos and pics like aeri does. wants to keep them as a cute little memory you know, always rewatching them whenever you're not here :( morning sex with her thoughhh. waking up after a night of rough sex with her, seeing her lazily eat your pussy out slowly. takes her time for sure making sure you’re wet enough sliding a couple of fingers inside, hitting your gspot. i feel like she’d spoil you sick, constantly praising you for taking her cock so well, calling you her “pretty baby” , buying you lingerie just so she can take pics of you.
i’m such a slut for g!p giselle i need her so bad
#wintersera#aespa smut#aespa x reader#aespa karina smut#aespa winter smut#aespa giselle smut#aespa ningning smut#aespa x fem reader#fem! reader#gg x reader#girl group smut#kpop#kpop girl group#kpop smut
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How’d u think earth realm boys would react to their wife telling me there ready for kids 🎤
mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react to their wife being ready for kids
warnings/tags: suggestive, fluff, female reader obv
Liu Kang
The way you brought it up was so subtle and casual. It was during his downtime, which was kinda rare. A simple "Hey...I think I'm ready to have children." and Liu is looking at you with surprised eyes and a full heart.
Being the kind of man Liu is, and how busy his life has become since being appointed as a god, this man set an exact date and time where there would be zero distractions. All his focus and effort was on you. And in you (ba dum tss)
So be prepared for a long night of passion, love, lust, and care. Cause you're not leaving that bed until you've gotten every last drop
Doesn't mind the gender. Boy, girl, he would love them just the same. Hell, even if it was more than one child at once, he wouldn't hesitate to give them the world.
Smoke
You mentioned it while you two were cuddled up on the couch. Little did you know how red his face turned until you felt his heart beat increase in real time, looking up at him with his genuine concern.
At first you thought he was nervous or probably didn't want to, and once he saw your slight frown he immediately countered that thought. He was so excited he froze. Endless reassurance from him until you verbally say you got it.
Did you think he wouldn't nervously suggest you start as soon as possible?? Pish posh, you are sad- happily mistaken. "Why not try right now?" he said, except he's stuttering over his own words and sweating profusely. No matter how many times you've been intimate with one another, he's always nervous around you <3
Gender doesn't matter to him either, however he does lean more on the side of a daughter. Simply because he'd die at the sight of a little girl running around the house that looked like you. If you had a son though, he'd be sure he doesn't meet ol uncle Bi Han bro would prob try to recruit
Johnny Cage
What if I told you he brought the idea to you one day as a "joke" and you're immediately like "That's crazy, I was going to say the same thing!"? You both looked at each other with narrowed eyes before making a run for it to the bedroom
Less talk, more action. It's safe to say y'all were up all night, touchin', lovin', going multiple rounds to the point where you forgot the entire reason for heading straight to bed. But hey, who's complaining? Johnny promised to tap that at the earliest opportunity (yes, i went there)
He SWORE that cowgirl and mating press were the "only efficient ways" to make sure you'd definitely get pregnant. As if going raw wasn't enough already-
Daughter. He wants a daughter. Give the man a daughter. He won't shut up about being a girl dad when you aren't even a month in yet. He's practicing dad jokes. Even coming up with ones that are tailored to daughters. Has a CVS receipt list of girl names and the only one you both decided that was perfect is "Cassandra/Cassie" (wink) He CANNOT wait to have another favorite girl in his life to spoil!
Raiden
It was after training. You finished first and watched him complete his, and the idea came to you while he was helping one of the younger recruits. You just laid it on him without warning: "I think we should have kids." and cue him almost spitting out his water. Was he dreaming?!
Another nervous one who blushed and stuttered a bunch upon trying to conjure up a response. The thought of having a child with you has been on his mind for some time now and it's like you read his mind, he just didn't want to overwhelm you.
Speaking of overwhelming, that was all out the window once you got home. Going from a peaceful walk to a heated make out session on a matter of seconds. Not to mention, you both had a longgg day of training and could use a shower...why not save some money on the water bill!
Raiden is too good with all types of kids to really have a preference. Growing up with his little sister AND kung lao gave him experience on both sides
Kung Lao
After your weekly sparring session, you got to thinking. You're already married, you've seen him handle kids and younger people well, and most of all he looks so damn hot when he's sweaty and out of breath. Not an unfamiliar sight to you at all!
It was when you two went to Madam Bo's for a good after-spar meal when you slyly threw it into the conversation. Mid bite, he couldn't help but back up from his food and look at you with that classic smirk he does and his dimples are fully visible (currently dying at this imagery.) And he'd end up saying something cocky but playful like "You think I'd oppose you carrying the next great Kung Lao?"
Got straight to it when you got home. Luckily you had already showered after the session, otherwise the water bill would've been looking like a traditional Chinese scroll after you were done. Prepare for his teasing, flirtatiousness, and pride to be multiplied by a thousand
I feel like he'd want a boy, and we all know why. He's not at all opposed to the idea of having a daughter. But if your first child was a daughter, you're going back to that king sized mattress once you've fully healed and trying again! (who's complaining 🤨)
Kenshi Takahashi
He had come home from a long day of a series of trips and tasks given by Liu Kang. You were in the kitchen brewing some tea late at night just because when you heard him come in. He wasn't exhausted, but you could tell he just wanted to drop everything and spend all his time with you the way he plopped down at the dining table.
When you offered food he politely declined since he had already eaten earlier. But he could sense something else was on your mind by the slight shift in your tone. Being visually impaired, his auditory has improved considerably since. "Is something on your mind?" he asked. "I think we should have kids." you responded, sitting next to him with your cup of tea.
He was at full attention now, whatever tired him from the day vanished just like that. You took his silence as uncertainty, so as you began to start listing the pros and benefits, he quickly cut you off with a "Let's do it." "Seriously?" you said, just to make sure you heard him. He stood and took your hand in his, "I'm very serious. We can start tonight, tomorrow, next week. The sooner the better." (hey, starting tonight didn't sound like a bad idea 😮💨)
He says he doesn't really stress the gender, but he'd like a son. Kenshi would adore your child under any circumstance, but being an only child (idk if that's canon but it's gonna be today XD) who practically raised most of his younger cousins who mostly consisted of girls, he gets a little giddy at the thought of having an older son younger daughter dynamic around the house.
Sub Zero
With how busy he is all the time and how even more tense he's become since the rift, it was a little difficult to find a way to get his undivided attention. However, the whole reason he married you is because you don't take any shit. You voiced your opinions and concerns whenever you deemed fit, and it never got in his way. So, you waltzed into his office on a mission.
It was one of the few times he wasn't running around or training his heart out. He just got done talking to Cyrax when you walked in looking as determined as the day you met. He knows you never interrupt him unless it's something terribly important. At a moment's notice, he gestured for Cyrax to leave so you could speak your peace.
"What is it?" he asked. You made sure the door was securely closed behind you before walking over to sit in his lap. He was quite surprised but also would be lying if he claimed he didn't enjoy it. "Let's have kids." you said. He always told you to be blunt with him about anything, and this was no exception. "Alright." he replied, seldom reason to say no, especially to the love of his life.
Bi Han would for sure want a son. He's set on carrying on tradition, even if he did oppose some of his late father's views. If you had a daughter as your first born, like Kung Lao y'all aren't stopping until you had a son. Though, he knows he will have to learn to raise your kids better than how he was raised. He'd rather die than ever neglect or overwork his children. Plus, you wouldn't have any of that anyway.
Scorpion
Despite being busy a lot as the head of his new clan, he always makes time for you. All his down time was yours unless you said otherwise. You were giving fighting advice to a recruit when Kuai approached you, a gentle warm hand on your shoulder. Earlier in the day, you said you wanted to talk in his free time
After excusing yourself and talking to him on the way to his office, you wasted no time laying it on him. "Kuai...I think we're ready for kids." He stops in his tracks and looks directly into your eyes. "...You're sure about this?" he asks softly, taking your hands in his with the most gentle gaze you've ever seen from him. He's been thinking about this for a while now, but didn't know how to bring it up. Your approving nod with a smile set his heart ablaze with happiness.
Because of his busy schedule, like some of the other kombatants with a lot on their plate, there's a set day and time. And once that time comes...it's tiimmeee (mariah carey voice) That night is gonna be filled with romance and deep love for one another.
Kuai wants a boy. He, like Kenshi, wants the older son and younger daughter dynamic, but for no particular reason. He just likes it. His feelings wouldn't change if your first kid was a girl though, the older daughter younger son dynamic would remind him of how his mother treated Tomas when they were kids before she passed.
a/n: as a mf who doesn't even want kids, this was so fun and cute to write omg😭ty anon for the idea! remember y'all my asks are open and i'd be down to do x or 11 if you want! just clarify pls <3
#n3ptoonz#mk1#mortal kombat#mortal kombat 1#bi han#bi han sub zero#fluff#mk fluff#mk imagine#kuai liang#scorpion mk#kung lao#mk1 kung lao#raiden mk1#johnny cage#kenshi takahashi#mk smoke#tomas mk1#tomas vrbada#liu kang#mk x reader#mk headcanons
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distant // svt jeon wonwoo (pt. 2)
synopsis: after you come home drunk and angry late one night, wonwoo realises he has to change to keep loving you from this close.
(forced marriage trope, non-idol au, kinda(?) angst)
a/n: ask and you shall receive HAHAHAH due to popular demand here's the second part my sweets! i'm sorry it took a longgg while for me to write this, i've been pretty busy 😅 it's a bit long (i may have gotten carried away) but i hope you guys like it!! enjoy xx
for the friends that wished for a part 2 🫶
@ykh94 @feat-sun @yoonclip @zeervzn @laquarosere @septemberskies @celestarvs
—————
you tucked a lone strand of hair behind your ear as you hooked on the earring that matched your outfit, adjusting your dress as soon as you were done. you smoothed out whatever crinkles that were visible and inhaled deeply as you took a final look in the mirror.
it was the night of the dinner. the dress you were wearing was pretty, a v-line maxi dress that reached just below your knees with sleeves that puffed a little bit at the shoulders and cuffed at your wrists. you paired the navy blue dress with a silver belt and a matching silver watch and butterfly shaped earrings. wonwoo had bought the jewelry for you in secret, telling you they would look good with your favourite watch when he gifted it to you a few days ago.
"you look pretty," he complimented you as you stepped out of your room.
very, very pretty, he thought, but he kept it to himself. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he noticed the earrings and his heart swelled.
i knew it would look good, he thought to himself.
"i... uh, thank you," you managed a smile at him. "you look nice too,"
wonwoo smiled. he was wearing a button-up that matched the colour of your dress, donning his signature office look. his shirt was tucked into his black trousers, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbow. his hair was parted and styled neatly, his rectangular frames resting on the bridge of his nose making him look all the more appealing to anyone who had eyes. he looked really nice.
the both of you left the apartment and made your way to his car quietly. the dinner was being held by one of your closest friends, choi seungcheol, to celebrate his birthday.
wonwoo was nervous, to say the least. he was pacing around the living room just moments before you stepped out. the idea of a social event thrilled neither of you, but he was more worried about messing things up between the both of you.
the morning after your outburst, you had been the one to apologise first over breakfast. you told him you had a long week and shouldn't have taken it out on him, but it bothered him. why were you the one apologising when he was the one in the wrong? there was one thing wonwoo realised over and over: he didn't deserve you.
it bothered him so much his heart hurt for days. he didn't think he deserved you, but a selfish part of him wants you by his side. your marriage was forced, but over time it seems he found comfort in your smile and peace in your presence. so his selfishness is working to keep you as close to him as he can. he should have been better to you from the start, but at least (he hoped) it wasn't too late.
it's been almost two weeks since your confrontation, and every day since, he's been trying to make it up to you. you noticed, no matter how grand or subtle his gestures were.
it was awkward at first. you weren't used to being the centre of his attention. he was being more attentive and you weren't just strangers living in the same house anymore, so it felt weird. you were confused. you were finally getting along with him as you've wanted, but it was so odd you contemplated whether going back to the way things were was a better option.
you contemplated going back to the way things were to the time even before you met him.
you had touched on the topic of divorce that morning while the both of you were eating, but wonwoo stopped chewing and paled so ghostly white you thought he was going to fall sick, so you just cleared your throat and said it was about a friend. you never brought it up again. wonwoo still saw through your lie and it's been keeping him on edge. he was determined not to let you go.
you wanted to give in. he wasn't a man of many words, but he was trying. he was trying his absolute best and you wanted so badly to let yourself love him with everything you have to give. but you were scared.
what if he's just being nice? he's a good guy, it's how he is.
so many thoughts would cloud your mind and wonwoo would catch you zoning out often, sometimes even when you watched him. you've seen his kindness. he was a good hyung, son, and friend. he doesn't usually raise his voice and you were sure his heart was made of gold. his smiles were warm and sincere, and he was so beautiful and gentle with just about anything and anyone. there wasn't anything extravagant and special about the way he is with you now, he was just being himself and warming up to you more.
and it was so hard not to notice. he'd come home earlier on some days just to have dinner with you, or sit with you to watch TV while he worked. he'd crack jokes you'd think were funny, and even if you tried, you couldn't miss the fond smile that rested on his features as he let his soft gaze linger while you talked, or laughed, or did something.
it petrified you. the care and love you felt for him scared you to your wit's end. you didn't know what to do with yourself. if you let the walls you tried so hard to build crumble, whose fault would it be? wonwoo's for showing this side of him that you so desperately wanted to see? or yours for never learning your lesson?
"we're here," you heard him say.
you turned to face him, surprised to see him leaning his weight on his elbow that he had propped onto the storage compartment between your seats.
the light from the streetlamp outside illuminated his features so well he looked ethereal. heck, even the light in the car could have been the moonlight with the way he looked right now.
his seatbelt was already off, which meant that you might have already reached your destination for a few minutes. you could have sworn you were at a stop light just a few seconds ago. so had he just been watching you?
wonwoo did park the car a few minutes ago. he turned to announce your arrival, but you were chewing on your bottom lip so deep in thought that he didn't want to interrupt. he settled for taking off his seatbelt and propping his elbow on the storage compartment, watching you with your eyebrows furrowed.
he wanted to know what you were thinking. he wanted to know how you felt. he worried if you were trying to find reasons to leave him, not that it would be difficult. he wanted to know if you thought about him. he wanted to know everything about you, beyond his observations.
please don't leave me, i love you. he thought.
i love you. he realised.
his heart ached. the only regret in his life right now is not realising how much you meant to him sooner.
he noticed you sigh subconsciously and decided to tell you that you were already at the venue. when you met his eyes, he smiled warmly. the kind that emphasised his smile lines as he flashed his perfect teeth and made his eyes small.
you returned the expression with a smile of your own, your heart beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it. you wished so so much that your face wasn't burning up. that would be embarrassing. you haven't had the chance to admit it to him, but wonwoo's smile was your favourite thing in the world.
"shall we?" he asked and you nodded.
you inhaled. suddenly nervous, you fumbled a little with your seatbelt but managed to unbuckle it, moving to open the car door and get out.
"wait, let me do it," he said.
"it's okay, won. i can do it," you tried but he was already out of the vehicle and jogging to the other side.
you collected your birthday gift for seungcheol and your purse from your lap as he opened the car door. wonwoo's heart was beating in his ears as you thanked him with a small smile, stepping out of the vehicle and letting him lock it behind you.
you walked towards the event hall while he collected his own gift, deciding your heart couldn't take it if you turned around to wait for him. you couldn't watch as he tried so hard to win you over. it broke your heart.
but it was also because of your weak heart that you walked slowly, pretending to make sure everything was in your purse so that he could catch up to you quickly. it worked, and you felt his presence next to you shortly after. his height allowed his shadow to loom over you, blocking the light from the streetlamp.
you couldn't resist and looked at him. he had a look of concern washed over his features, wordlessly asking if anything was missing. you swallowed hard. he was closer than you thought, but you managed a reply and told him you were just double-checking and that you had everything. he nodded and the both of you walked quietly across the street.
"can i... uh- can i hold your hand?" he broke the silence, taking the risk after contemplating it in his head for what felt like hours.
wonwoo felt like he couldn't breathe when you didn't respond. you were taken aback and couldn't find the words at all. he was beginning to regret even asking, awkwardly adjusting his collar until he felt your hand clasp his.
he exhaled a breath he didn't even know he was holding and looked at you while he smiled in relief, but you weren't looking at him.
you refused to. if you did, your guarded walls would crumble. the effect he had on you was dangerous.
the both of you reached the venue where the dinner was being held still hand in hand, but you let go as soon as you saw seungcheol to wave at him. wonwoo gave his hyung a hug and wished him a happy birthday and you did the same when he came up to you. the two of you passed the older man his gifts and he beamed, inviting you further in the hall as he welcomed other guests that came after you.
wonwoo licked his lips nervously, wanting to take your hand in his again. but since you made no move to do it, he decided against it and kept his hand balled into a fist by his side. he didn't want to push his luck too far.
the both of you walked over to where some of your mutual friends and wonwoo's colleagues sat. you took a seat next to vernon and seungkwan, who have been your best friends since high school. wonwoo took a seat in between you and his best friend and business partner mingyu, who you smiled at politely while walking past him earlier to take your seat.
"do you need anything?" vernon asked from next to you while the waiters started serving food on all the guest tables.
"no, thank you. i got it," you smiled at him.
vernon nodded and passed you a glass of water that was handed to him by the waiter, which you thanked him again for. he mumbled a 'no problem' as he grabbed another two glasses for seungkwan and himself.
"kwannie, could you get me two sashimis there?" you pointed at the sushi buffet laid out in front of him in the middle of the table.
wonwoo bit the inside of his cheek as he watched seungkwan grab your plate to help you, wishing you asked him for help too. he was fond of seungkwan and vernon, he really was. he was glad that you could count on them, but wonwoo wanted you to rely on him too. especially since he knew you rarely asked for help if you could do it yourself.
the rest of the dinner flew by. you mostly spoke to vernon and seungkwan, and occasionally to seungcheol who came by every now and then to talk or check how things were going.
most of the dinner's guests left after seungcheol's closing birthday speech, and only about twelve of his closest friends, wonwoo included, stayed behind for some drinks and a short get-together.
it was well after midnight when you and wonwoo reached home. since wonwoo had a few drinks, you drove home and let him take a nap in the car. you appreciated the quiet ride, not willing to strike up a conversation. you preferred the silence mostly because you didn't know what to say.
what you also didn't know was that wonwoo only pretended to be asleep in the car. at the function today, he felt his heart sink deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach as he watched you interact and laugh with other people.
he wouldn't have minded. he would have actually loved it had you not been ignoring him for the most part. he wanted to brush it off as you haven't met your friends in a while due to your work, but you actively avoided eye contact and looked away quickly whenever you did meet his eyes. it made him think the worst case scenarios.
he wanted to share laughs with you too. the dinner was an opportunity he had been looking forward to, but he forgot that it was a social event after all. he couldn't help it. it felt like all his progress went down the drain.
so he pretended that he was asleep in the car and stood behind you when you unlocked the door to your shared apartment. you took him by surprise when you turned and grabbed his arm to guide him in, letting go only when you sat him on the sofa and went to pour him a glass of water.
you set the mug of water down and wished him goodnight. when you straightened up to leave, he quickly held on to your forearm. his grip wasn't too strong but it stopped you in your tracks anyway.
"why are you avoiding me?" he finally asked the burning question in his head.
"i'm not avoiding you," you denied.
it was a lie and even he knew it, but he relented when you gently peeled his fingers off of your arm.
"yes you are," his voice lowered as he stood. "why?"
"i don't know what you're talking about," you averted his gaze.
"you're doing it again," he stepped forward and you stepped back.
"i'm not doing anything," you tried to stand your ground, looking at him again.
"you're taking care of me one moment and then the next you're refusing to speak to me," he explained. "did i do anything wrong?"
his voice cracked and your heart wrenched painfully in your chest. he gently held your hands but you pulled away, apologising softly.
"no, no. i'm the one who's sorry," he retracted his hand and paused.
you shook your head. "you didn't do anything to be sorry for,"
"then why are you avoiding me?"
"wonwoo, please understand," you began, and his heart hurt that you called him by his full name. what happened to the nickname you gave him?
your throat was closing up and you were finding it more difficult to control the tears that were welling up in your eyes.
"what is there to understand?" he pried. "you're confusing me,"
"i can't spend a single second more with you," you admitted, the tears you tried so hard to hide streaming down your face.
his eyes widened and his heart leapt up to his throat. his head hurt. this was it. you were set on leaving him already, no matter what he did to try and keep you by his side. he desperately searched your expression, but all he saw were your tears. you were crying and it pained him. he hated himself for being the reason you were crying again.
"sweetheart, please don't cry," wonwoo reached forward, but you stepped back, wiping your tears and turning away from him.
a choked sob from him forced you to face him again. he sat back down, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as tears of his own started to wet his cheeks. he wiped his face quickly.
"whatever it is, i'm sorry," he cried. "but please don't leave. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry,"
"wonwoo, please," you begged.
your resolve was crumbling. you couldn't watch him fall apart like this. you kneeled in front of him when he buried his face in his hands. it could have been the drinks he had, but wonwoo found himself unable to control his emotions. you pried his hands away from his face and forced him to look at you.
"please let me go, hm?" you coaxed, but he shook his head, still crying.
"why can't you understand?" you rested your forehead against your fists that were holding his hands. "i can't spend another second with you or else-"
you froze. you almost let it slip and wished he wouldn't ask, but of course he heard it and had to know.
"or else what?"
"nothing," you got up quickly and turned your back to him.
"stop avoiding me, y/n. talk to me, please," he begged.
"or else what?" his voice cleared.
"or else i'll fall in love with you!" you confessed, facing him while you threw your hands up in frustration.
wonwoo was standing again, frozen in place at your admission. you sniffled and sighed, eyes burning into his.
"again," your voice lowered to barely a whisper. "and you won't love me. again,"
your words hung so thick in the air it suffocated you. both of you.
"i'm tired of this, won. if you don't want me, let me go. i can't keep loving you if-"
your sentence was cut short as he grabbed your hands and pulled you into his embrace, engulfing you in his arms and his large frame. this was the first time you were this close to him, and you could feel his heart hammering against the shell of your ear.
a fresh stream of tears escaped the corners of your eyes and you sobbed into his chest. if this was how he felt, why didn't he ever tell you? wonwoo didn't know what to do, so he tightened his embrace, whispering sweet nothings into your hair.
when you regained yourself, he cupped your face in his hands as you pulled away and sniffled. he grinned at you, that heartache he called a smile tugging at your heartstrings. his cheeks were wet with his own tears, which you reached up to wipe. he chuckled and shook his head, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb and then his face with his sleeves.
"do you love me that much?" he asked quietly. "enough to love me a second time?"
you nodded, still unable to find the right words that expressed your thoughts. you didn't have to, though, because wonwoo understood. he studied your features for a little while, caressing your cheek and tucking your hair behind your ear.
"may i?" he asked again, this time making you raise your eyebrows.
you hummed inquisitively and he leaned forward. oh.
you closed the gap between the both of you, your lips meeting his. the both of you held on to each other as if you were afraid the other would disappear if either of you let go. his hand cupped your cheek gently while the other rested on your waist, and your hands were in his hair and on his back. the both of you eventually broke the kiss and he nestled his face in the crook of your neck while you rested your chin on his shoulder.
"i love you too," he pecked your skin. "i'm sorry it took me so long to realise. please don't leave me,"
"wonwoo..."
"hmm?" he hummed against your neck, worried again when you didn't call him by his nickname.
"that tickles," you joked and a loud laugh reverberated from his chest.
i love you. enough to love you for more than just this lifetime. you thought as you let yourself giggle and tighten your arms around him.
—
masterlist // part 1
#imagine#oneshots#fiction#oneshot#seventeen#seventeen angst#angst#angst with a happy ending#svt wonu#svt wonwoo#seventeen wonwoo#jeon wonwoo#wonwoo#wonu#jeon wonu#svt imagines#svt#non idol au#distant part 2
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☯︎ THIS IS HOW I IMAGINE RAFE CAMERON’S PSYCHO GF ☯︎
✫ wears leather jacket
✫ lips are always red
✫ LOTT of tattoes and piercings on your nipple,clit…
✫ wide eyeliner
✫ has teeth gem
✫ dark hair
✫ very freaaky
->
“i wanna touch you”he pants as he flexes his thighs beneath your ankles struggling to not buck his hips upwards.
->
“…and then she bit on my balls and i…”kelce continuing his story telling while you are sitting on rafes lap,your long nails playing with the back of his head while you are listening. and thats when you catch a blonde blue eyed girl who is giggling to her friends while looking at YOUR man across the room,whispering to them something which they are agree to.
->
you stand up and go ahead to the girl’s,cigarette you smoked is between your fingers,still burning.“he is hot,isnt he?”you ask,stopping right in front of her face,smoking your cigarette and blowing it all onto her face. rafe is watching this scene with poker face because he knows he cant tell you to “stop,its okay” or”ur crazy,leave her alone” or anything like that because he knows u wouldnt care,so he just watches you. the girl stands in shock,her expressions frozen before you dig the burning cigarette into her forearm,making her shout in pain.
-> rafe is obsessed with your teeth gems,when you smile and it reflects he feels like he cant fall in love with you more.and when he sees it while you cum with mouth wide open,he cant help but moan out at the sight of it.
-> you like to play with him. always playin with him,making him crazy over you. you would flirt with him in public like extremely being flirty and when he wants to take you to the bathroom u refuse”just jerk it out if you need it so bad,its your fault you take jokes so seriously”
->you checked his phone last week and you saw a message from a girl. you didnt know who she is or what seh wants because the text was just “hey” so you checked her profile,stalked her a bit and then you recognized who she is. she is a kook, a kook you have been friends with till 8th grade. as weeks went by you met her a lot “accidentally”. like whenever you went out with rafe,she was “accidentally” always near. you suspected her,and when you found out you were right,you kidnapped her and buried her under the ground alive with her limbs chopped. and when rafe saw the news in the tv about her disappearing you were like”oh shit poor girl!!”sarcastically,which made rafe shake his head,he knows that whatever happened to her its probably connected to you.
->making deals for fun.like “whoever cums first gets the last line of the coke”
->you always cares shis body,always touching him. you have long nails,not too long but long enough to make rafe beg you to scratch his back with them.
✯ when it comes to date night ✯
->you sign up for illegal motorcycle/car races that takes place near the harbour. smoking weed,being drunk before racing. its dangerous and the fact that you two could die together makes it even more exciting.
->you smoke weed while going around the graves and making scenarios about how each people died.and then it ends up fucking in the grass.
you do anything that connects with sex and danger.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
->sharing a cigarette after a slow sex session at 3am and talking about life,how your family traumatized you then comforting each other with a longgg makeout session.
->watching horror movies
->when rafe sees someone staring at you for too long he slips his hand under your mini skirt,hoping everyone is watching you. he slids his middle finger under thong,touching your pussy which makes you moan out. he smirks,looking straight into the guy’s eye.
->making him listen to rock/metal songs. he is like “turn this shit off,my head hurts from it”and the next time you check his phone you find the songs in his playlist. you giggle but dont say a word about it.
@ci4ras @rafescurtainbangz @sadfury
#outer banks#rafe cameron#outerbanks#rafe cameron obx#smut#rafe cameron smut#fyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy#snow#send help#headcanon#rafe smut#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe fic#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#Spotify
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This started out as a funny snipper. How tf did it turn into a fanfic?? Also this took me so long anyways, pt3 of the accidental overlord vaggie fic
Alastor: shoves Vaggie between him and Rosie and drops Frank onto her lap
Vaggie: trying to process how tf a giant dragon got through an elevator among many other things
Carmilla: thank you for coming today. I've gathered you all here to talk about the millions of souls-
Vaggie squeaks so quiet no one hears her: I'm sorry fucking how many??....How- How do you check that?? Gets ignored
She's just squeezing poor frank like a stress toy
Carmilla ignores her: You own. And how their at risk with the new extermination schedule. And how we minimize the damage going to be caused by it.
Finally looking aorund the room
Carmilla: Zestial, so god to see you- ....Alastor?? And- eyes narrow the protective overlord
Alastor, leaning over to block vaggie form view because he's petty as fuck: hello! Yes yes, I know, I've been absent for a longgg time and I'm sure youre all DYING to knwo where I've been~
Carmilla:...no. not really, shrugs but welcome back anyways I suppose....I am interested about who you've brought though....
Vaggie: just staring out into space, regretting her life choices and trying to count how many people owe her 'favors'
Carmilla slgihtly concerned/unnerved: In any case, this year's extermination was brutadal. A good 16% of the population was killed off. With them coming back in only 6 months I think it prudent that we-
Velvette: just fucking kicks the door open Yeah, I've got it handled Vox? Are you doubting me? ME might I remind you? Yeah, no. That's what I thought. Yes, yes, I know, thank you V, see you later Okay, bye, kisses darling!
Carmilla: nice of you to finally join us, Velvette. Will you.....colleges? be joining us?
Velvette: What? No way. They have better shit to do than to listen to some old windbag who think she's tough shit! Haha, no. Immm here to represent!
Carmilla:...charming. now, back to what I was saying, we need to-
Velvette: waves her arm frantically
Camilla feeling like a preschool teacher: yes??
Velvette: well, on the topic of discussssss throws exorcists head down let's discuss
Alastor: oooo tasty!!
Vaggie: ohhhhh my god....whispering to herself is that Tuff?? Wtf- how??
Carmilla:......where...did you get this?
Velvette: doesn't matter. We found it, though. And if these angle fuckers can be killed, then the game of cat and mouse has changed, the boys and I have-
Vaggies distressed squeaking as Velvette continues, Zestial jsut slumps his tea
Velvette:....the fuck is wrong with you two?? Looks at vaggie leans downs to get closer....also you're new
Vaggie: uhhhhh......thank?? You??
Velvette: narrows eyes before her head snaps ti zestial
Zestial: we shouldn't go to war with such meger proof.
Velvette:...meger- MEGER PROOF!? ITS a dead fucking Exorcist!!! What more do you WANT!? A video of it being killed?? No- this is definitive proof- if you can't see that, maybe you're going blind old man.
Zestial: it may be dead but how? It could be by a demon, but mayhaps it died due to unrelated reasons
Vaggie: Well, angles have hurt their own kind. Wouldn't be suprised if killing was another option for them
Everyone's heads snap to her
Vaggie:.....did....I say that out loud?
Carmillas narrows her eyes: how do you know that.
Vaggie: I um...I....I saw it happening?
Velvette:....wait aren't you the princesses whore? What are you doing out if your bird cage hm?
Vaggie: I....what??
Carmilla shaking her head: we're getting off topic.
Zestial: Carmilla is right. If we rush to war the angles would purge all of the sinners for daring to even TRY an uprising
Overlords: muttering
Alastor: why don't we put it to a vote?
Vaggie: depends is one of the options 'can we all just go home pelase?'
Alastor: hmmm no!
Vaggie grumbling: I hate you.
Velvette narrows eyes: ohhh okay I see. Grandpa's to scared to make a move! So then there's no point in it huh?
*the respect less song which I am not writing*
Zeezi: pft, what the hell? we literally JUST got here!
odette:....mom??
Carmille:....meeting dismissed.
Vaggie: uh, does this mean we can go home?- gets glared at .....okay sits back down like a scolded kid as she thinks about wtf jsut happened
Vaggie to herself in a defeated tone:.....she never told me how to see how many souls I own.....how many people owe me favors?
Proceeds to try and calculate and count on her fingers and Alastor watches in amusement, after sending off frank, and Rosie watches slightly concerned as to wtf her friend did to this teenage child....and maybe also finding it a bit funny
Part 2 | Part 3(here!) | Part 4
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel au#hazbin hotel vaggie#accidental overlord vaggie au#hazbin hotel alastor#Hazbin hotel carmilla#hazbin hotel velvette#Hazbin hotel overlords#Hazbin hotel rosie#This is the closest to the episode since I had to re watch the meeting scene to write it
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