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outercrasis · 3 years

Text

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them.

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?”

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself.

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts.

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar.

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep.

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing.

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like.

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift.

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu.

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

taglist: @honestly-shite @booksarekindaneat @wonderless-screwup @pinkninja200 @captain-jebi @ajeff855 @leias-rebelion

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

so I joined an ateez collab yesterday and was yelling to mai about a possible elemental kingdom au kind of like avatar but also not really anyway it doesn’t fucking matter mai was yelling back and now we have this. you have been warned

(I have bigger plans for seonghwa mostly because he’s the one I'm writing for this collab.............. seonghwa brainrot commence)

tagging: @applejongho @mangomingki @wingkkun because all of you need to see this SUFFER

anyway without further ado

ATEEZ ELEMENTAL KINGDOM AU OR WHATEVER IDK WHAT TO CALL THIS

tw: cursing

seonghwa

magma prince, born of an earth/water dalliance gone too far :/

lives in the water but is an outcast, so he’s forced to live on his own by the underwater volcanoes except when he has to come to the palace for ceremonies and such

doesn’t really manipulate water specifically but can control magma hence why I'm calling him a magma prince

he’s a prince because his mom was ocean royalty, anyway she disowned him so we don’t really care about her (fuck everyone who made seonghwa feel like an outcast :/)

has scales on parts of his body like the rest of the ocean dwellers because they descended from sea serpents, his range from black to deep royal blue which INFURIATES the court because those colors are the purest meant for ROYALTY like even his mom’s scales aren’t as deep/pure as seonghwa’s so ha in your FACE

except seonghwa isn’t a fan of the scales because it just makes him feel even more like he doesn’t belong in his own skin :///

friends with fire prince hongjoong and ocean prince san, both of whom are some of the few who treat seonghwa like an actual person and not just an outcast :/

takes very good care of the animals who live around the volcanic vents! a lot of the other ocean dwellers are scared of them because they look so different but seonghwa knows what it’s like to be an outcast so he keeps his little area as clean and welcoming as possible :)

it gets lonely around the volcanoes but honestly seonghwa prefers that over when he has to be at court for ceremonies n stuff. like yeah there might be water snakes around his place but they’re nothing compared to the snakes in the palace badum tss

hongjoong

fire prince of the dragon clan

there are two clans of the fire kingdom, one descended from dragons and the other descended from phoenixes, and they’re Rivals

dragon clan is allied with the ocean dwellers since sea serpents are related to dragons, phoenix clan is allied with the air dwellers because they all can fly n stuff

but anyway more on phoenix stuff in mingi’s part

has scales too, though his are more on the neck while seonghwa’s around around his ribs/waist, also they’re bright red/orange not blue

can produce and control dragon fire, which is destructive and primarily used for offense, so hongjoong’s been trained for an early age how to use it for max power/destruction

meets seonghwa on one of the few times hwa comes to the surface to chill in the sun and he’d just accidentally set fire to a small part of the beach and when he sees hwa he’s like HELP ME PUT THIS OUT

except hwa can’t control water he can only do magma so. yeah

san was nearby though and helped deal with it and later joong was like what the fuck kind of ocean dweller can’t control water and seonghwa was like. I'm half you dickwad

obviously they become friends after that. if they didn’t I'd give you permission to slap my face

but also after that hongjoong learns to keep a much tighter rein on his powers, like yes he’s being trained for destruction but he has masterful control over his abilities

could be considered a fire prodigy in all honesty

yunho

earth boy!! very powerful earth bender

can definitely do a lot of destruction with his powers but prefers to help things grow instead! talks to his garden and swears up and down that his plants grow bigger and taller when he does

good friends with both mingi of the phoenix clan and hongjoong of the dragon clan

earth dwellers aren’t allied with any side of the fire rivalry so they serve as the arbiters/judges when disputes come into place which is fair because earth is solid and stable and just (most of the time)

which is why yunho is able to balance this sort of friendship between the two boys :) does NOT meet with them together though that would be a recipe for disaster (not necessarily because of hongjoong/mingi themselves, they know how to behave, but the neurotic clan elders would throw a hissy fit)

runs a small restaurant in the capital that mostly caters to the working class, people always ask why yunho doesn’t try to do “more” with himself, that he’s wasted potential running a restaurant when he could potentially be a general or something in the army because of his earth bending prowess

but yunho doesn’t care, he’s happy where he is and he develops his bending as a way to protect and help himself and others, and from his friendship with hongjoong/mingi he’s pretty sure he wants to avoid clashing with earth royalty at all costs ksjndksjh

yeosang

air prince :) also he’s blond in this au you can’t change my mind

not particularly one of the strongest benders, but he’s very intelligent and wise which people value a little less than they should but yeosang doesn’t really care, he’s just going with it

imagine! yeosang in flows white robes!! floating on the wind!!!

yes air dwellers can fly sobs because they control the wind

and while yeosang isn’t necessarily the greatest at using his powers for fighting or whatever, he’s very good at flying and has a lot of fun with it along with air noble wooyoung

best friends with wooyoung by the way, no one really gets it because yeosang is quieter and doesn’t yell as much while wooyoung is the definition of Chaos

but wooyoung brings out the rowdy side in yeosang and their screams/yells echo in the air when they get together

a little wary of wooyoung’s friendship with san mostly because he’s a prince and understands the consequences of wooyoung, an air noble, being friends with the allies of their supposed enemy (water is allied with the dragon clan)

(maybe he’s a little jealous too)

but in the end it’s always still woo + yeosang against the world, floating in the sky and doing what they can for their people <3

san

WATER PRINCE WATER PRINCE WATER PRINCE

he’s actually the reason I birthed this au I couldn’t get ocean prince san out of my mind

flowy clothes and a crown of shells and pearls! likes shiny things and will trade with earth dweller merchants for new bits of crystal and jewelry!! tell me he isn’t a dream!!!

one of the beloved princes of the ocean, honestly probably the most loved because he’s so smiley and handsome and all around a very good boy until it’s his turn to perform the ceremonial dances and he turns into a demon

the brightest blue scales run up from his waist to his ribs, another one of the purest colors of royalty

uses his status to get away with being friends with seonghwa (aka people won’t yell at him if it’s obvious he disappeared for a while to the volcanic vents) but keeps their friendship kind of under wraps because hwa is afraid of retaliation when he has to visit the court :/

truly does not give a shit about hwa being half earth, if anything kind of envies it because he’s always curious to explore the volcanic trenches but as a normal ocean dweller the heat would be too much for him if he stayed too long

kinda scared of the animals near the trenches but he warms up to them after some periodic visits

friends with air noble wooyoung! even though it’s kind of (?) breaking alliances but neither of them really cares because they’re so much fun together :D

mingi

phoenix nobility, not quite a prince but close

phoenix fire has defensive and healing properties, so it can’t actually burn people but it can heal and protect from dragon fire/regular fire!

mingi is well-versed in the art of healing even though he’s a little clumsy sometimes :/ luckily phoenix fire doesn’t burn or there’d be major issues skjnsdkjh

can fly! phoenix descendants have a limited ability to fly, not as much as the air dwellers who can literally control the wind to help them, but it’s often enough to get them out of tight spots

only problem is mingi doesn’t like to fly very much skjndgjhn heights kinda suck

but when he does it’s fucking majestic, these orange flaming wings extending from his arms that clash beautifully with his red/orange hair

imagine seeing it at sunset oh my god that’s a dream

the phoenix and dragon clans are in negotiation with each other most of the time because ~hostilities~ but mingi doesn’t often participate in the direct talking because he’s better at working behind the scenes

ridiculously smart and likes to debate with yunho over things because seeing issues from a neutral perspective is very helpful and something mingi doesn’t think people do enough

what he’d really love to do is talk to hongjoong because an opposite perspective would be even better, but people don’t like that happening :/

secretly admires dragon fire because it’s so cool how dragon descendants can control so much destructive power with such ease

(he doesn’t know it but hongjoong admires phoenix fire just as much because god damn sometimes he wishes he was born to heal rather than destroy)

wooyoung

air noble!!!!! bitch if you thought I was making this man ANYTHING but an air dweller you do not know me

likes to watch the sunrise from his vantage point in the mountains :) sometimes wakes yeosang up to watch with him but only when he’s certain yeo won’t cut off a limb if he does skndjsgh

if yeosang is like the soft sea breeze against your face in the summer, wooyoung is the biting, almost playful nip of wind against your nose and cheeks in the winter

very playful! loves to make collect friends!!

can play the flute and absolutely 100% uses it to annoy said friends

you can often hear his screeching laughter and the yells of yeosang + others bouncing off the mountains skjdnsgk

is always on duty for patrolling the mountains because he’s one of the best at flying, but it’s fine because wooyoung enjoys being able to make his rounds and talk to people along the way

sometimes gets a little sidetracked with talking (and maybe eating the food people sometimes give him) but wooyoung is a lovable person no one can get mad at him for too long (which is a problem because he knows it)

thinks the rivalries between elements is dumb af, is literally friends with ocean prince san and earth dwellers 2ho and would like to make friends with mingi (yunho has mentioned him before) if he could just stop being in twenty places all at once

(mingi’s a busy guy wooyoung give him a break)

almost lost his shit when san told him he knew a magma controller, but hasn’t met seonghwa yet because hwa is shy and not very open to strangers

anyway I just think wooyoung air noble who has a personal mission to make as many inter-elemental friends as possible. shrugs

jongho

IF YOU TRY AND TELL ME THIS BOY ISN’T EARTH I WILL CLOCK YOU

earth boy and a prodigy at that! his bending is more advanced than some people twice his age

originally got stuck in training for the army because his bending was just that good, however he really hated having to use his powers solely for fighting so he left and became a blacksmith instead

why a blacksmith? here’s a secret

jongho can metalbend

which is why he sort of has this very good touch with metals and which types to use with which sorts of crafts

in very high demand for weapons like swords and such, but also makes jewelry and toys and pots and pans for regular day to day life

he also gets the “wasted potential” thing that yunho deals with a lot, but jongho has thick skin and those sorts of comments roll of his (broad) shoulders very quickly

LOATHES IT when generals and officials come to him with commissions and expect them to be done first and foremost like jongho doesn’t have around ten other projects hanging out in the background, but he just has to receive them with a smile

(maybe leaves a tiny unnoticeable dent in a general’s sword or something bc even if it’s unnoticeable, jongho knows it’s there and there’s some satisfaction in that)

friends with air noble wooyoung mostly because he is able to deal with woo’s bs, air prince yeosang is always asking for tips

meets yunho through wooyoung and 2ho strike up a nice friendship!

really just jongho stronk boy who can move the earth and will not hesitate to cause a subtle earthquake if some official gets uppity with him <3

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babyybitchhh · 3 years

Text

Law x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 6,653

Warnings: sexual roleplay, sex work, excessive/rough breast play, vaginal sex, creampie, set in Wano but honestly I just took advantage of that unknown period when they first arrived, chubby reader

A/N: It's okay, Law doesn't need to use condoms. He's a doctor. : )

♥♥♥♥

“Well, how do I look?”

Head coming up, Law glances over from his spot on the tatami and ire immediately flashes through stormy gray eyes. But you pretend not to notice as you turn in the doorway, letting him see the back of your kimono with its neatly tied bow and the flowing long sleeves that had delighted you when you’d first glimpsed the style of dress in this country.

Truth be told, you were really quite pleased with yourself.

Particularly after Kinemon had assured you it was a lovely choice for the role you were to take in Wano; that of a maid servant working at the finest brothel in the capital where you were sure to overhear plenty of hush hush information the others might not likewise be privy to. The place was frequented by big wig politicians, powerful samurai and members of the ruling Kurozumi faction, according to him, which meant you would be playing an integral part in the plan going forward.

You were glad for it, eager to be of some use in the coming battle to overthrow the shogunate since such an opportunity very rarely presented itself to non combatants like you.

But when you turn back around, beaming expectantly only to find Law glaring across the room, your shoulders quickly droop in defeat. “What? You don’t like it?”

Rather than directly answering the question, he scoffs and looks away. “You’re supposed to be blending in with the people of this country, not standing out like a sore thumb.”

You guffaw, glancing down at yourself. “What do you mean? Everyone’s wearing clothes like this!”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

Try as you might, you just couldn’t figure out what he was finding issue with here. The rich silk print wrapped around your body was understated, not nearly as intricate or attention grabbing as those of the oiran you would soon be waiting on, but that didn’t make it any less elegant. In fact, you’d thought for sure he would like it for just that reason.

The monochrome base with its bursts of color in the form of vibrant, blooming red and pink chrysanthemums had struck you as something he would appreciate for its simple yet undeniable beauty. He’d picked out his own clothes in similar fashion, going with a basic black and white kimono and a relatively plain yet stylish jittoko to wear over top so you weren’t really sure what made your outfit any different.

They were practically one and the same - and you tell him as much when you step across the room, fully prepared to fight him on this.

But as soon as you're close enough, Law reaches out to snag your wrist and he yanks you down on the floor with him. You draw a sharp breath as your knees hit the woven mat, quickly jerking your attention up only to choke on whatever you were going to say when he crowds into your space with that steely eyed frown he was known for.

“W - what?”

“It’s not the same.” He intones, low and unamused. “I’m going to be playing a traveling monk with my face covered. You’ll be working in the red light district. There’s a world of difference here.”

You start to ask him to elaborate, because you just weren’t seeing it, but stop yourself short when the answer abruptly clicks into place.

Oh.

So it was like that.

“Could it be … you’re feeling a little possessive, maybe?”

Law barks out a quick laugh, making your cheeks warm. “And why would that be?”

“I don’t know!” You blurt, embarrassed. “Even if you’re not serious about this - about us, I just thought you might be getting sort of ... jealous, thinking about other men looking at me that way. I guess.”

“You’re not mine to feel possessive about, sweetheart. You know that.”

Too well, in fact; you think as you turn your face away to hide the hurt you were sure he’d find staring back at him.

He's quick to reach out and grab under your chin though, manually turning you back around. “Don’t pout. You volunteered for this job.”

“I just wanted to be useful …”

“You are useful.” He murmurs, the pitch of his voice dropping an octave, intentionally or not, to send static racing down your spine. “Don’t you worry about that. I have a solution that I think will satisfy both of us, though.”

“O - oh?”

Without missing a beat, Law snakes his arm behind him, grabs the tengai sitting at his knee and brings it forward so he can unceremoniously plop it down on top of your head. You squawk, hands flying up to grab the hat which basically amounted to little more than a straw basket and, therefore, should have been easy to remove. But the hand he still had resting on top of the damned thing kept it firmly in place no matter how you pushed at it and you outright seethe when you catch the slightly muffled sound of his smug, snickering laughter.

“Law, you ass! Stop!”

He hadn’t even had the decency to put it on the right way! The slats were facing out at the back of your skull and you couldn’t see anything except warm light bleeding in through the woven textiles.

“But if you wear this,” he tells you in a sobered yet no less amused tone. “I won’t have to worry about horny old perverts looking at you too much.”

“I swear I’m gonna’ - -“ You stammer to a halt, suddenly realizing what he’d said. “So you are jealous that other men might look at me!”

“Mm. Jealous isn’t the word I would use, personally.”

“Oh, then what hell would - -“

You cut yourself off with a flustered gasp when his unoccupied hand abruptly winds around your waist and finds the bow Kinemon had tirelessly struggled to fasten your obi in. He tugs at it, gently at first, and then more forcefully when it doesn’t give. With a click of his tongue, so close to your basketed head that you couldn’t miss it, Law adjusts his grip and feels around for the weak point in the knot. Once located, his long, dexterous fingers make quick work of loosening it with a soft slither of silk that makes you shudder for him and lean into the heat of his body.

The amount of sway he held over you just wasn’t fair.

“Do we really have to do this … with the hat on?”

Obi successfully undone, he starts to unwind it from around your waist one slow loop at a time.

“If I have it my way,” he says quietly. “This is the closest you’ll ever get to having anonymous sex. So the answer is, yes.”

The implication of what he was saying had you running hot, and not just in arousal. “I won’t sleep with any of the men at the brothel, you know.” You tell him tersely.

“I’m sure you won’t, but just in case you ever wonder what it would be like …”

His hand finds your shoulder as soon as the ridiculously long band of fabric is pooled between both of your laps; gentle but commanding in the way he pushes you down to lay out on the floor. You comply, though not without a soft whimper at the uniquely strange pitter patter in your suddenly tight chest.

It’s not that you didn’t understand what he was doing here.

Giving you a taste of what it would be like on the off chance hearing the girlish moans in the next room over ever sparked your interest, so you’d think back on this moment and remember how good he was at fucking you into a blissed out stupor. As if you could ever forget.

But, still, it seemed he wanted you to go into this with that knowledge fresh in your mind. And if it was the thrill of anonymity you wanted, he was clearly happy to oblige in that too. The fact he cared about something so silly, enough to remind you with a hands on demonstration, warmed you from the inside out in a way that little else ever had. He may not have admitted it in quite so many words, but this was possessive behavior if you’d ever seen it.

Admittedly pleased by this turn of events, you lay back with your arms splayed across the tatami mats and feel him move close to hover over you. Bracing a hand on the floor, he begins to carefully part the layers of your kimono with the other, one at a time, while you stare up at the inside of his tengai. You badly wanted to reach up and slip it off your head, or at least spin it around the right way so you could glimpse him through the slats, but you choose to refrain. If not because you were sure he’d just find a way to secure it until he was finished making his point then certainly because you were curious to see how far he would take this.

Law clearly felt something more towards you than just baser lust and general irritation, and that excited you almost as much as his hands on you did.

“To answer your earlier question,” he drawls, gently nudging you back into the here and now. “You look good in these clothes. Almost frustratingly so, actually.”

You gulp down the butterflies dancing in your throat and try your hardest not to smile, even though he couldn’t see it either way. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise, silly girl.” His long fingers finally find the nagajuban, the last flimsy barrier separating you from him, and Law noises a brief sound of anticipation as he descends upon it.

A sedate shudder ripples down your spine while he makes casual work of spreading the robe open around you, your nipples immediately puckering when the cool air hits them. It makes you twitch and arch for him, squirming fitfully on your impromptu bed of silk; but he doesn’t stop long enough to pay it any mind and you have to bite back a groan when he somewhat callously palms your breasts with broad hands.

He isn’t as soft with you as he usually is. Not quite so preoccupied with prioritizing your pleasure over his own, and the almost greedy way he kneads at your chest serves its purpose in making you feel like a properly casual encounter. Something to vent his frustrations and nothing more.

You’d like to say it was off putting and that you didn’t like being handled so indifferently, but that would have been a bold faced lie. You were rapidly growing hot under his attention - tipping your head back inside the tengai to mewl out a whine when he bends down and eagerly seals his mouth around one stiff nipple without any of the slow buildup you were accustomed to. You were entirely at his mercy like this, in this particular role, and Law’s affinity for your breasts quickly makes itself known in the form of rough, enthusiastic sucking and nibbling that was perhaps just a little too sharply applied for it to be pleasurable.

But it wasn’t for you that he was doing this, so he takes his time indulgently suckling at the teat in his mouth until you finally whimper and twist underneath him. He comes up at the noise, leaving the tip of your breast feeling sore and unbearably coiled in the scant space that separates the shallow rise and fall of your chest from his. The tight bud gives a muted throb in the aftermath, the ache of it just edging your peripheral, and he chuckles when you squeeze doughy thighs together, rubbing them.

“Oh? You like that, do you?”

You can practically hear the roguish smirk in his tone, and your face goes hot behind the woven barrier. He knew your body well enough to recognize a sound of genuine pleasure from one of tender pain, but you don’t get the chance to correct him before the rough pad of his finger abruptly swipes over the swell of your breast. Sure and steady, it follows the natural curve of it right up to the straining nipple in the center which he delivers a sharp flick to, making you twitch and whine. The heat pooling in your gut seemed to suggest it wasn’t entirely disagreeable but you weren’t used to such indelicate treatment, not from him, and you positively writhe when he palms the weight of it in his hand again.

“My, what a sensitive little minx I’ve invited into my bed. I can already tell you’re going to be worth every penny.”

Understanding immediately dawns and you bite down on your lower lip to keep quiet as he switches his attention to the opposite tit, pinching the meat of it firmly enough to make pliable flesh spill out between his fingers. You shudder at the way he guides the puckered tip to his mouth with a sense of slow, savory anticipation, warm breath wafting against your skin moments before his lips close around it. Issuing a hazy groan, you curl your hands into the fabric laid out underneath you and arch, pushing your chest up to meet him halfway. If it was a sweetly compliant mistress of the night he expected you to play, then that was what you were going to give him.

“Mmm, you’re good at this, mister.” You murmur softly, still embarrassed to be saying it even with your resolve, and he snorts.

“Yeah? Don’t try to flatter me, sweetheart, I’m sure you say that to all the John’s.”

He goes up then and sits back on his knees, both arms stretched out across your body to cup and fondle the weight of your breasts with that same intense focus as before. A puff of air stutters out of you when he slowly drags the blunt of his thumbs over stiff points, making your pussy clench with a sympathetic flutter. Everything felt somehow that much more intense without the use of your sight and it takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to reach up and grab ahold of his bony wrists when he finally pinches one tightly coiled bud between two of his fingers.

“Nggh, w - … wait!” You mewl, your breath coming quicker when even something as simple as that makes your gut twist hard enough to leave you aching for him.

Chidingly tutting at you, Law makes a casual show of teasing your swollen nipple to straining attention while his other hand kneads the opposite breast like a happy feline earnestly fluffing it’s favorite pillow. That is to say, rather aggressively.

“Sorry, but you don’t get to tell a paying customer what to do. That’s part of the deal,” he informs you politely enough, but the reprimand itself as well as the pressure on your tit still makes you wince. “You’re mine for the night, so we’re going to do whatever it is I want. That’s what we agreed on, isn’t it?”

“... yes.”

“Good girl.” He breathes out, palming both of your tits now to squeeze them. “Stay nice and sweet for me, and I just might leave you a handsome tip when I’m done. How’s that sound, hm?”

You give your head a stilted nod before recalling that he probably couldn’t see it. “I … I’d like that very much, mister.”

“Then you had better make sure you behave yourself. I won’t give you anything extra if I don’t think you deserve it. You need to earn it. Do you understand?”

“Mm, yes … yes, I understand.”

“Good to hear.”

Giving the swell of your tits a bitingly rough pinch, Law slowly drags his palms down so that rough calluses scrape over your sensitized nipples. You can’t quite stop from crying out when the two buds give meaty little jostles in the wake of his hands, so puffy and engorged now that they felt achingly tender to the touch. He seems satisfied by the lack of protest though, and he pauses long enough to give them both another taunting tweak before trailing lower, sharp fingertips dancing across your stomach.

“You have the perfect body for this, you know.” He says, almost casually offhand. “Soft in all the right places and so very inviting. The kind of body anyone could lose themselves in, if given the chance. I’m sure you’re quite popular.”

“Mm’ not …”

Scoffing quietly, he splays his hands wide across your stomach and rubs the soft pudge there before dragging them around to squeeze at plushy lovehandles that seem to mold into his palms. You whimper at the avid attention to your body, even though you really should have been used to it by now, but he doesn’t say anything to scold you for it like some men otherwise might have. Law was more inclined to showing rather than telling, after all, and he responds instead by bringing his hands forward so he can press your thighs open for him to settle between.

“You know I don’t buy that, sweetheart. How could anyone with a working cock pass up the chance to have a pretty little pussy like this all to themselves, huh? You look like you’d just suck me right in.”

His spindly fingers dip into the space between your legs and find plump, velvety lips, slowly pressing in and spreading them apart so he can get a good, long look at you. Choking at the sensation, your thighs tense and flex as if to close him out but you stop yourself from acting on the urge with a tiny, faltering mewl. Your face is on fire behind his hat while you make do with twisting on the floor instead - your hands balling into tight little fists with layers of kimono clenched in them as you try to decide if you should happily offer him your cunt or tell him to stop. It was a surprisingly hard choice to make when he had you so vulnerably exposed like this.

“M - mister … please, you’re embarrassing me!”

“Am I now?” He chuckles faintly, making you flush even hotter. “We’ll just have to fix that then, won’t we?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you feel Law sit back on his haunches again, those long fingers of his still keeping you spread open for him. Trying to brace for what was coming next quickly proves to be an effort in futility when he crowds his other hand in with the first and presses down on your clit with expert precision, rubbing smooth little circles into it. A startled sound of pleasure erupts out of you even as your body goes ramrod stiff, the sensitive nub giving a receptive throb under featherlight pressure which prompts you to angle your hips up in search of more.

He laughs in response to the needy display, unhurriedly adjusting the position of his hand so he can flick at your clit with a slow, steady back and forth of his finger until you finally twitch and writhe, just as he wanted.

“Hmph. Pretty girl. You look good when you squirm for me like that, but I’m sure you’ll look even better when you’re squirming on my cock here in a minute.”

You let out a frazzled, sucker punched sound and twist on the floor, making your heavy tits bounce and jiggle with the jerky motion. “Please … I want it!”

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“N - ngh … I want - want your cock …”

Humming faintly, Law picks up the pace of his finger, battering your clit from both sides, and you almost come up off the floor with a strangled, gasping wheeze. “I didn’t quite catch that, I’m afraid. Would you like to try again?”

“Your cock! I want your cock, La - - haah, m - mister! Please put it in …”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific. Do you want it in your mouth? Or perhaps your ass …”

You shake your head so wildly that the tengai slips up just enough for you to feel a rush of fresh air assaulting the lower half of your face, but you hardly think anything of it in your quickly mounting desperation. You didn’t need to see - you needed to feel him inside you, stretching your guts to capacity.

“No, no please, mister, not there! I want it in my pussy! Please stick it in my pussy and fuck me stupid with your cock! I p - promise I’ll be good!”

At that Law sucks in a sharp, heated breath, letting it back out in a rumbling low groan as his finger drops away from your clit to swipe through the copious slick oozing out of you, testing your wetness.

“Ooh, what a damn good girl you are. You’ll have me coming back for more, if you’re not careful. Would you like that? Do you want to share my bed again?”

“Yuh - yes! I want you to fuck me lots and lots …”

A mildly flustered sigh slips out of him, sending a brief touch of ghostly fingertips across your inflamed skin to make you tremble and shake, still so sensitive even now. “How could I ever say ‘no’ to that, huh? You’ll gladly be the ruin of me at this rate …”

He leans all the way back then, big hands retreating from your body with a deliberate sense of action. You’re left flushed and sprawled out on the floor, dizzily blinking through the needy haze that’s come over your punch drunk mind when you catch the sound of rustling fabric directly in front of you. You think to tip your head down, peering along the length of your nose, and a certain amount of surprise washes over you when you realize you can see something other than just the inside of the basket.

Past the shallow rise and fall of your chest and the soft swell of your stomach, you catch a glimpse of him moving between your bent and splayed legs. He was already naked, his borrowed kimono shrugged off and discarded; sizable cock jutting proudly into the space between you two and leaking a glistening bead of precum. You still couldn’t see Law’s face when the rim of the woven hat was taking up a good majority of your line of sight - just up to about the midway point of his waist - but that only seemed to heighten the feigned sense of anonymity in this situation.

Choking down a much needed gulp of air, you watch as if in a trance while he finishes getting himself situated and reaches out to hook his hands under your knees. Spreading them further apart and then folding them towards your chest allows him to shuffle even closer and settle the fronts of his thighs against your upturned ass, tilting your pelvis up at him in the process. He lets one leg settle beside his narrow hip so he can snake a hand into the now scant space between you two where he gives himself a few savory pumps before guiding the glans to your waiting cunt.

“L - Law!” You gasp, close to delirious at the feverish scene unfolding right in front of you.

“Hmm? Am I not ‘mister’ anymore?” He teases, slowly drawing the head of his cock up and down your slit to coat it in sticky arousal, the soft nudge against your clit on every steady stroke making your hips twitch in anticipation. “I kind of liked the sound of it, to be honest with you. Maybe I should have you call me that more often.”

In a daze, you reach down as if to grab for him but stop yourself short at the last second when you abruptly recall your assigned role here. Fingers twisting in frustration, you ball them up into fists against your lower stomach only to blush red hot at the way he chuckles, faintly laughing at you. You have to fight to keep your eyes open when you want nothing more than to screw them shut, embarrassed, and a quiet whine rises in the back of your throat as you watch Law purposefully guide himself to your entrance. He applies just enough pressure for you to feel the blunt head pressing into you, barely, but not enough to sink in yet, and your toes excitedly curl in the air, eager for the sear of penetration.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He murmurs, drawing your attention away from what’s going on between your legs. “You don’t have to hold back. I doubt you’ll be able to keep it up, anyway.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and you quickly snag your fingers around his wrists as he latches on to your other leg again, digging his fingers into pillowy soft flesh to keep them spread. Noticeably holding the air in his lungs now, Law leans his weight into you and the glans slowly breaches the first ring of muscle with an intoxicatingly delicious rush of friction that has you instantly shaking for him.

He pushes in deeper and deeper, ever so slowly, making sure you feel each individual inch that penetrates you at that tortuously staggered pace. Your eyes start to roll back before he’s even fully seated inside you, and you eventually let out some sort of desperate, wounded animal noise when he finally slides home a small eternity later.

He lets out the breath he’d been holding in a stuttering rush and it seems to rattle through his narrow chest while he takes his time grinding the sharp planes of his pelvis into the plushy give of yours. The coarse but neat thatch of curls at the base of him scratches and tickles, leaving a burning trail in their wake as you gratefully jut your cunt up into the pressure, plaintively asking for more. He felt so good inside you. He always felt so good.

“Nngh … please, Law! Please make me cum on - on your cock, please … I’ve been good …”

“You have.” He agrees, at last angling his hips back until you fear he would slip right out only to push inside again at that same frustratingly slow pace. “You’re a good girl, when you want to be. You know I’ll always reward you for a job well done, don’t you?”

You offer a quick nod, breathless, as you try to crane your neck up to get a better look at where his cock was sedately gliding in and out of you, but it only makes the tengai slide back down into place. Realizing you were once again without sight, you screw your eyes shut and groan bitterly as you toss your head back.

“T - that’s why I wanted to be useful for you …!”

Feeling him hunch over you, and rather suddenly at that, you tense when the slight change in position increases the pressure of him inside your guts. Your mouth warbles open as if to groan but nothing comes out, and genuine surprise rapidly floods the forefront of your mind when he grabs the top of the hat and pulls it off, making you blink owlishly in the suddenly bright room.

“I figured as much when you volunteered for a role as risky as it is potentially invaluable. You’re not a fighter, so it was fairly obvious you had a motive.” Fixing you with a sly smirk, he tosses the tengai aside and settles more squarely on his knees. Picking up the force behind his thrusts, now perfectly angled to drive into your upper wall and attack the tightly clustered nerves on the other side, Law clutches at you all the more fervently until you’re positive you’ll find bruises in the morning. “But I trust you … I know you’ll do a good job, sweetheart. You always do.”

Letting out a series of whimpering groans, you push up on your elbows so you can flick your attention between his glistening wet cock as it drives into you and his handsomely pinched face. “Then w - aah - what was all that b - before … you ass?”

He offers you a tersely clipped laugh. “Just a bit of fun, mostly.”

“Such a … nngh, such a jerk …”

Chuckling under his breath, Law lets up his hold on your legs in favor of sliding broad palms across your stomach, calluses scraping, to get a good grip on plushy hips. You respond with a low groan as you struggle upright so you can get your hands under you and push up, slanting your pelvis down to meet his leisurely thrusts tit for tat. The hushed sound of skin meeting skin picks up in the old room, otherwise silent besides the soft moans and faltering breaths coming from the two of you.

It was unexpectedly nice, given the circumstances.

“Yes, right t - there … haah, so good, you feel so good, Law. God, don’t stop …”

“You know I won’t,” he rumbles, possessively squeezing your sides in a pinching tight grip so he can guide you into a more energetic bouncing motion that has your heavy tits bouncing for him. “But I meant what I said earlier … any man would be a fool to pass up a night with you. I’m sure you’ll be quite popular in the brothel.”

You shake your head, sucking in a faltering gasp. “I don’t c - care … I only want you …”

“How reassuring …”

A shaky groan puffs out of him and the sound races straight to your cunt, making you clench around the stiff cock relentlessly carving out a space within you. Your subconscious reaction only seems to make him dig up into your sweet spot all the more insistently and, seething, you close your eyes, dropping your chin to your chest. You could feel the coil inside you slowly tightening just that little bit more each time he slid up inside you, making your toes curl while you struggled just to keep up with the pace he wanted.

Your legs and arms were quickly growing tired though and, with a soft, whining plea, you lift one of your hands to reach for him. Law catches on quick as usual, immediately letting go of your hips so he can curl one arm under your armpit and across your shoulder blades. With very little effort on his part, he hauls you up against him and locks the other arm behind your back so he can hold you in his lap.

“You like it better this way, sweetheart?” He murmurs, bracing his scruffy chin on the center of your chest with his head tilted back to look up at you.

“Ahh - mm, mhm!”

Clinging to his broad shoulders, you adjust the positioning of your feet and bounce on his cock a little more smoothly now. He seemed to hit even deeper than before, knocking something inside of you that made every inch of your body feel like it was on fire. You could hardly breathe through it, sucking in one haggard gasp after another while you continued to work yourself over until you felt near delirious with the need to cum.

You weren’t quite there yet though and you curl yourself around him, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder so you can inhale the smell of him into your contracting lungs. Pinewood and ozone, the faintest note of antiseptic. You could even make out a faint trace of the dark, heady cologne he hardly ever bothered to put on. It was indescribably intoxicating, and you couldn’t take much more of it.

“Wanna’ cum …” you mewl against his collarbone, feeling like you were moments away from drooling all down the front of him. Your mind was a cotton stuffed mess.

Turning his head, Law presses his mouth to your hair and gently kisses you. “Are you starting to get tired?”

“Yuh - yeah …”

He tsks at that, the sound warm and comforting in your ear.

You suddenly choke on a sharp inhale when he tightens his arms around you without so much as missing a beat, hauling you up even closer to him and prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist with a light jostle. Crossing your ankles behind his back, you hang on for dear life as he somewhat awkwardly goes up on his knees, adjusts the grip he has on you - all without dislodging himself from your pulpy cunt - and then pivots his hips forward to test the angle.

The action rocks you in his arms, increasing the pressure on the downward slide when your soft ass paps against the fronts of his thighs. It knocks the air right out of you and you jolt, lifting your face from his shoulder so you can keen in frazzled, almost hysterical pleasure. You sounded like something wild and mindless.

“Is that better?” He whispers, his tone much too smug for him not to already know the answer.

Law doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before he does it again though, more forcefully this time, and you practically shriek in wordless delight. The momentum of his gravity assisted thrusts builds into the next, and then the next until he was fucking into you at such an enthusiastic pace that you couldn’t even begin to keep up with it.

Your mind completely blank now, you let your mouth hang open in doped out bliss while you freely moan and squeal in pleasure; the sticky wet squelching between your bodies and the sharp smack of skin on skin serving as an all too appropriate backdrop for the sounds you were making. The coil inside you was quickly reaching its breaking point and all you could do anymore was clutch at him, digging your nails into his back while he relentlessly slammed into you.

His straining grunts, so hot and heavy in your ear, had you vibrating like a wound up ball of static electricity and you hung there on the precipice for a horribly long beat, silently praying for the pin to drop. You weren’t sure how much more your aching cunt could take at this level of intensity - and then, so abruptly it almost startles you, he turns his head so he can shove his mouth against your neck and kiss you again.

It was, embarrassingly enough, the abrasive burn of his chin scruff that finally shoves you over the edge.

Toes curling to the point of genuine discomfort, you jerk in his hold so violently that it nearly tips the both of you over onto the ground. Law is quick to steady himself though and he crushes you against the front of him with a rumbling groan while your cunt spasms and tries to strangle his cock in a chokehold. You were far too caught up in the wild, full bodied tremors that were wracking through you to complain about the creaking ache in your ribs from where he was holding on to you so tight, but you also didn’t really care.

You were floating somewhere far above the physical realm, your flesh and blood body little more than an afterthought at that point.

Finally, you come back to earth with a strangled, heaving gasp, hands scrabbling against Law’s sweaty back as you writhe in his arms like you were something feral and untamed. He wasn’t about to let you go anywhere just yet though, and he rocks forward on his knees so that your back hits the rumpled layers of your kimono again. Keeping his arms locked around your quaking frame, he settles close enough to rest the fronts of his thighs on the backs of yours and pin them to the floor underneath him.

The vigorous pounding that follows seems to drag out your soul shattering orgasm to the point of real discomfort and it very nearly sends you spiraling into another. Your legs were flexing in the air, jerking with each powerful thrust of his narrow hips, but he was chasing his own high now and he couldn’t be bothered to stop long enough to pay attention to your desperate bleating. For a brief moment in time, he was a man well and truly possessed.

“Oooh, fuck, you get so tight when you cum, sweetheart, hng - haahn, your pussy’s so good to me, you know that? I’m gonna’ fill you up, baby, you ready? It’s coming …”

You jerk your head in a disoriented nod and Law drops his face to your shoulder, his slender frame shaking uncontrollably with the intensity of his fast approaching release. The obscenely loud, sticky wet squelching that noises between the two of you only seems to highlight the rough, primal quality of the seething grunts and groans that slip through his clenched teeth, rattling around inside your otherwise empty skull. You were starting to ache, in earnest this time, and reflexive tears sting at the corners of your eyes while you fervently cling to him, brokenly moaning at each desperate stroke of his cock.

For better or worse, it only takes a few minutes of this brutal pace to have Law’s hips stuttering and losing their rhythm, his thrusts gradually turning sloppy and uneven before grinding to a complete stop. Heaving, he puts the whole weight of his body into it and slams himself inside the mess he’s made of your cunt, mercilessly rocking you back against the floor once, twice, three times. On the fourth plunge, he suddenly freezes on top of you, lurching with the loss of momentum, and a powerful shudder races down his spine while he sensitively twitches and paints your guts white.

You let out a flustered groan at the sensation, delighting in the way the warmth of his release settles and spreads through you, coating your palpitating walls in creamy discharge. It was enough to send a fresh wave of tremors racing up your legs and the two of you groan in near perfect unison as you both go limp, struggling to catch your breath.

He recovers somewhat quicker than you do, eventually pushing his weight up and slipping out from between your legs so he can tiredly roll over onto his side next to you. You’re still panting when he turns you to face him, gently drawing you up against his shallowly contracting chest so you can nuzzle your nose into the thin patch of hair there. You could still smell him, a faint comfort, through the faint musk and various bodily fluids now sticking to your skin, and you were content to enjoy it for just a little bit longer.

His hand slides around to rub across your back while you both work at coming the rest of the way down from your peaks, a true feat after that unexpectedly intense session, and he lets you press in close until it was hard to tell where one of you stopped and the other began. If asked prior to this, you wouldn’t have thought you’d be all that into role playing in the bedroom but, somehow, it was actually kind of fun with him.

Law did often seem to have that effect on you.

“Hey,” he says at last, bringing his hand up and around to gently brush the hair back from your temple. “You hungry?”

Still thrumming, you give yourself a moment to think about that. “Mm, I could eat.” You murmur even as you contentedly snuggle somehow even deeper into Law’s chest, getting comfortable.

He gives an amused snort and drags his rough palm down along your side, delivering a sharp pinch to the meat of your ass to make you jolt.

“Come on, let’s go see what kind of food we can get in Wano. I’m sure we’ll find something good, or at least something edible.” Pausing, he dips his face close and presses his mouth to the top of your head, speaking into your hair. “And when we get back maybe I’ll eat you next.”

#trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece #self insert bullshit #my writing

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illyaana · 3 years

Text

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Soulmate! au, Mafia! au, Pro Hero! Shoto x quirkless mafia leader! reader, No Specific Gender for Reader, Cursing, Violence

Synopsis: You are a leader of a mafia that had ties with the League of Villains. You declined a transaction with them and planned to leave the scene. Suddenly, heroes surrounded the area and you were captured. Aizawa, Shinsou and Todoroki interrogated you. In the midst of the interrogation, Shoto finds out that you are his soulmate.

How to identify a soulmate: You can communicate with your soulmate by drawing or writing something on your body.

Thanks to @horseanon--simpforall for having this collab! I usually don't do the whole soulmate trope, but it always was nice to read and it was fun to write! Hope you enjoy this compilation of your first times with Shoto! Yes, I love Shoto very much, thank you. Kettle boy is the best boy. ヾ(•ω•`)oヾ(•ω•`)oヾ(•ω•`)o

Warning: This fanfic does mention some graphic things (abuse, suicide, death, etc.) so if you aren't comfortable with it, please don't force yourself.

Blood, blood, blood.

That was your nights. Killing off rogue members, bagging their bodies and collecting their quirks for the mafia you are currently leading.

Yes, you heard that right; stealing their quirks.

Thanks to the technological developments the 'company' you owned, Ahnia Technologies, have made throughout the years, you have managed to steal quirks without having a quirk itself.

All thanks to a small gun that fits in your pocket.

The illegal business of stealing and giving quirks to others since the fall of All for One is completely dominated by your mafia now.

And it all happened under a company that 'promised' the betterment of Japan and the world.

To be fair, you did invent some stuff for the safety of the country, but they worked better in collecting data on people, be it heroes, villains or viligantes.

"Persephone, you need to leave now. Shigaraki is waiting for you," said Toga, fiddling with the knife in her hand.

Ah yes, your villain name; Persephone - The bringer of death.

Your name was known throughout the streets of Musutafu, yet no one really knew how you looked like, thanks to the power of makeup. You never covered the scars you've received throughout the years of villainy. The scars you bore are the scars you wear with pride, along with your Haladie sword and your retractable iron hand claws.

That's all they knew. That was Persephone.

After all, who would think the CEO of Ahnia Technologies would be the leader of Diavolos; the strongest mafia in Japan?

No one knew the sweetheart of the science industry, L/N Y/N, was Persephone, and no one will. Those who knew are long gone - be it by God's hands or yours.

You got up from your seat at the bar, thanking Kurogiri for the Whiskey on the rocks.

Walking towards the inner room, you spotted Dabi leaning against the wall, toying with the staples on his face. Beside him stood Hawks, eyes gawking at you, taking mental notes. In the middle of the room sat Shigaraki Tomura. The sky blue-haired man with scars all over his neck paid close attention to your Haladie sword, blood dripping off of each end.

"Killing spree?" He question, a smug tone ringing off of him.

You turned to him, a smile graced your face. "As always."

He got off his chair and walked towards you, raising his gloved hand to you. You snickered when you saw your company's name written on the wristband. So they do have some money.

"Pleasure to meet you again," he said, slowly taking off the prosthetic hand on his face. You took the gloved hand in yours, shaking it slowly.

"I'll just get straight into it; we need some quirks for these Nomus." Soon came gigantic Nomus, their hands swinging as they bumped into places. The ground shook as they slowly walked in. Their purple skin filled with little holes thanks to all the testing the League of Villains did on them.

"Aren't they strong enough?" you questioned, "Besides, I don't believe they have the mental capacity to use quirks that require the orders from the quirk user itself-"

You were cut off by Shigaraki's ungloved hand touching your iron hand claws. "I just asked for quirks, not your opinion." He said, his red eyes staring dead into yours.

You extended your iron claws, every single one going through Shigaraki's hand. Your empty hand withdrew your Haladie sword and aimed it straight at his throat. You began to smirk, looking at his scared expression.

"If you wanted to fuck up the very thing you spent hours on developing on, be my guest. However, don't drag my fucking business with it," You said, venom dripping off your words.

While you stared at your sword, you spotted a small heart engraved on your wrist.

Your soulmate wanted to cheer you up.

You remembered how badly you wanted to meet your soulmate when you were younger. Your parents smiled as you showed the small things your soulmate did. A little drawing of a smile on your wrist, them drawing a flower...

Then you were brought into the family business.

The happy-go-lucky girl you were back then vanished almost instantly.

The training, the killing sprees, the interrogations - it all erased your humanity.

Yet, the need to meet your soulmate always stayed.

Somehow, they always knew when you were having a bad day and knew just how to make it better.

You were already 24. The usual age you meet your soulmate was 18. You wanted to give up so many times, but the small things they did stopped you every time.

You awoke from your daze the instant you felt a temperature change.

You removed the sword from Shigaraki's throat and retraced the iron blades.

"We're never having business transactions ever again, Shigaraki. Not after this buffoonery of a display you've done today. Consider this a warning; mess with me and you'll be in a casket the next day." You said, leaving the room.

But it was too late.

All the Pro Heroes surrounded the area around the bar. An ice wall was built around both Kurogiri and Toga along with Eraserhead cancelling both their quirks.

On instinct, you ejected one of your blades to hit Aizawa on the cheek, forcing him to drop his stare on Kurogiri and Toga. They never did anything bad to you, they were good people.

"Go, don't worry about me!" You screamed at Kurogiri, knowing he'd try to take you with the rest of the League to safety. He needed to protect them, I can protect myself.

He nodded and proceeded to warp to the smaller room, take the rest of the League members and warp away.

You felt the heroes run towards you. You smirked, knowing that you could easily take them down.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp feather around your neck, slowly digging into your skin.

"You aren't escaping, baby bird," Hawks whispered as he removed your gear, leaving you powerless. You soon felt a needle being pushed into your arm, darkness slowly engulfing you.

You woke up in an interrogation room. Your hands were chained to the table in front of you. The mismatched arrangement of the bricks that had chipped through the years reminding you of your years under your father.

That sick man ruined you.

That sick man ruined your family.

That sick man made you the revolting thing you are now; a fucking villain who killed more lives than a bomb.

You began laughing to yourself. You became this to stay away from the dark room he used to shut you in, yet here you are; in another fucking dark room but with chains now!

What the fuck is my life!?

I- I am just so fucked up, aren't I?

At least I killed that son of a bitch.

At least I burned that fucking house.

At least my mom died before she could see me become this - his masterpiece.

You soon began to write on your arm, hoping your soulmate was awake. "Hey, you awake?"

You soon felt a warm sensation on your arm. "Yeah. You good?"

You chuckled. At least they care. "Nope. I fucked up this time, and pretty badly," you began writing on your upper arm, letting the words earlier slowly fade.

"Well, if you want to vent, you know where to write," they replied with a small smiley-face at the end.

"How was yours?" you asked, directing the conversation to something more positive, hopefully.

"It went great! I finally managed to catch something I really wanted to catch for a long time!" they replied, their writing slowly moving diagonally. At least they had a good day.

Your happy trail of thoughts was interrupted when Brainwasher, Eraserhead and Shoto entered the room. The smile you had turned into a scowl when you saw them, especially Brainwasher.

"Wow Aizawa, is today bring your kid to work day?" you said, teasing the Pro Hero. You knew that Shinsou was the worst person to deal with in an interrogation setting. He could easily control you the minute you respond to him.

'Let's just talk to Aizawa and Todoroki then. If I don't respond to Shinsou, I'll be just fine. Oooh - better yet, just keep quiet,' you thought to yourself as the three heroes proceeded to sit down. 'Messing with them would just make my day better, anyway.'

"Mind telling us who you are, Persephone?" Shoto began, trying to be polite.

"So I am Hades' wife. I am the Goddess of Spring, daughter of Demeter. I am also considered the Harbinger of Death," you said, leaving them annoyed. "I guess you all don't like Greek Mythology!" you said, smiling.

They tried to get you to talk, but every single time they pried, you just kept on laughing, slowly pushing their limits. Shinsou tried getting you to talk to him, but you just stared at Shoto and Aizawa, laughing louder and louder.

"I swear to God, what's the fuck is wrong with you?!" Eraserhead screamed, hitting the metal table.

You were waiting for this question. With a smile, you replied, "Everything."

Aizawa saw something in you with that answer; the unresolved anger you had towards someone. He knew if he hit just the right nerve, you'd spill everything.

"Why? Did Daddy fuck you up?" He said, a smug tone lacing his words. You saw Shinsou and Todoroki turn to face Aizawa with a bewildered expression.

You, however, just stared at him blankly. "How did you know?"

You felt numb. This man just sat beside you for a few minutes, yet he already knew how badly you were fucked up by that fucktard.

"Yes, Daddy fucked me up. He made me kill people at the age of 5. He didn't let me go to school because he wanted me to only kill for him, nothing else. I may be quirkless, but he knew that I would do just the same - actually more - damage a person with a lousy-ass quirk would."

Their eyes widened when you revealed that you were quirkless.

"What? Shocked that a regular person could kill over 20 Pro Heroes with just a bunch of blades?" You said, feeling a smirk slowly forming your face. "It was fun killing that All Might guy. You could say it was payback. After all, that son of a bitch couldn't protect me when he was living so close to me."

You began to laugh more as you saw they began to form tears.

"Oh, that isn't the worse part. The worse part of it all was the torture I went through. Have you ever imagined your 10-year old self hanging on the wall via chains, chains like these," you shook the handcuffs, "All because you couldn't kill a rabbit. Oh yeah, It was a package deal; chains plus 50 whips! " you ended, lifting up your shirt slightly to show the scars you received from it.

"Luckily my mom died before she could see me become like this. She was an angel. When she was around, Dad was actually a nice guy. The mafia was more of a family. We took care of everyone, finances and all." You stood up from your seat and sat on the table examining their faces.

"And now, I have to kill the people who try to run away, all because the elders force me to." You ended, crying.

These thoughts were a river you kept at bay.

You never wanted anyone besides the elders to know.

You were the leader, the pillar.

If you fall, they fall with you.

"I actually liked All Might as a hero, you know," you said through the tears. "He actually played with me, bought me gifts and treated me like the kid I was supposed to be."

You wiped the tears falling from your eyes.

Todoroki stared at your wrist, seeing what your soulmate wrote.

You chuckled, looking at the heterochromatic eyed man. "It was from my soulmate. I never met them, nor will I ever meet them. I guess they would only know who I truly am." You sniffled.

Shoto started to draw on his left arm a small heart with a distinctive flower in the middle.

Soon you felt your left arm tingle and there it was - the exact same heart with the exact same flower.

You stared at him, his eyes softening. "I wished I saved you earlier, but I'll save you now."

You smiled, looking at his determination. However, it was too late.

You've fallen a bit too deep to be saved now.

"Shoto..." you said, a sad smile gracing your lips, "...you can't. I've killed too many to be just signed off with a pardon or time in jail."

He began tearing. Your heart broke at the sight of him breaking down in front of you.

The cheerful man you knew from the years and years of conversations stood in front of you, willing to do whatever it took to get you in his arms - unchained and free - was sobbing. His cold facade long gone, only covered with grief and sorrow.

You, however, felt a warmth in your heart.

You finally got to meet your soulmate.

You finally are happy.

There and then, you knew what you needed to do.

"I'll tell you everything," you looked at Aizawa, "all the dirt I have on the villains and the vigilantes in Musutafu, I'll tell you."

He stared at you, smiling sadly.

"I'll even tell you who I am. In exchange, give me a full day with Shoto with no surveillance. I promise to not run away or do anything of that sort. I'll even take the death penalty I know that was fixed for me." you ended.

Shoto's anger began to boil. You felt it grow, the temperature in the room rapidly increasing.

Before Shoto could say anything, Aizawa agreed.

Shoto fell back on his chair, his hair now dishevelled - red mixing with white. His tear-streaked face now facing yours, taking in what he believed was your face.

"Shoto, could you please get me a towel? I feel a bit dirty... If possible, could you wet it, too?" You asked Shoto, knowing he needed to leave and get some fresh air. He quickly responded with a nod and went out of the room.

The minute he stepped out of the room, you faced Shinsou.

"I'm giving you full permission, Shinsou. Go ahead and see everything. I don't want to tell Shoto all I know. Let me tell you three who I am, at least," you ended with a chuckle.

You felt yourself relax as Shinsou soon entered your consciousness. It didn't feel painful or numb, like how Midoriya described it to Uraraka and Iida. It was as if someone just entered your room and wanted to see the things in it. Maybe it was because you willingly let him do it...

The feeling you had while he was reading your mind was as if you were with your mom in the small swimming pool she rented when you were a kid.

She gripped on your sides as she taught you how to swim, telling you to let the water be your friend and not oppose it.

It was calming... relaxing...

The minute you felt him leave, you felt the control of your body come back to you.

You saw sadness in Shinsou's eyes when he stared back at you. You just smiled and nodded at him, not knowing what to do.

Soon, Aizawa removed your handcuffs. You immediately stretched your wrists, moving your palms in a circular motion.

Shoto came rushing in with a bowl of water, a cloth and a bar of soap. He placed it in front of you and gave you a kiss on your head, leaving you a blushing mess.

He sat back on his chair and faced you, waiting for you to remove the dirt on your face to see your features better.

"Let's get this out of the way, shall we?" you chuckled, dipping the cloth in the water and slowly rubbing your face. You rubbed your hands with the bar of soap and then proceeded to rub the soap in your hands on your face, feeling your scars. After rinsing the soap off, you faced the three men.

"Hi, I am L/N Y/N, also known as Persephone." You looked at them, enjoying the shocked look on their faces.

You saw him begin to tear again. You instinctively got up and hugged him from the back. You began to rub the tears away, stopping any more from falling from his precious face. He began to relax into your touch, slowly placing the back of his head against your collarbone.

"Shoto," you said, turning your face to face him, "In my hand claw, there is a USB in a compartment right beneath the palm area. It contains everything on Ahnia Technologies. The money, the technology yet to be released along with the data on Diavolos. I'm leaving it to you."

"Don't cry, okay? I only have you for a few more hours, no more crying." You said, giving a kiss on his cheek.

"Help the people in Diavolo. Yes, some of them have done extremely bad things, but it was all because of me and my tyrant father," you clarified. "Help them live better lives, okay?"

You felt him give you a nod and you smiled.

You released yourself from the hug, looking at Aizawa. "I believe I can leave now, right?"

Shoto grabbed you by your wrists and ran out of the building. "I am going to make it the best 23 fucking hours of your life."

And it was.

The few hours you spent with Todoroki had been the best hours of your life.

It didn't feel sappy as the stories the elders used to tell you. It felt comfortable and right just to be with him.

The view of him eating cold soba in front of you, you both singing your lungs out to Paramore, you both relaxing at a book cafe - all of it - it felt just comforting and how a home should feel like.

The best part of it all - he could introduce you to his friends since they didn't know you were Persephone.

You hung out with Midoriya, Iida, Ochako, Tsuyu and Momo for 4 whole hours.

They took half the day off - just because Todoroki met his soulmate.

It kept making you think if you were born in a normal family, would have this been your life?

What if you entered a support class and just so happen to meet Todoroki there?

Would your life be like this? Surrounded by a bunch of friends, protecting Musutafu and being helpful to the world you loved?

You were cut off from your train of thought when Uraraka sat beside you. "You know, whenever you both talked to each other when we were in Yuuei, he used to actually giggle reading at your messages. He really wanted to ask for your number and meet up, but he felt he'd be pushing it a bit too far, so he just waited for you to stumble upon you." She said, beaming.

"We really thought he would never meet you, yet here you are! And he scored, man! A tech CEO? Honey, you have money-" You cut Ochaco with your laughter.

"You know he is way richer than me, right?" You said, wiping the tears of joy.

You were brought back to the conversation Uraraka just had with you.

You should've made the first move.

You knew he wouldn't be the one to make the bold moves.

You should've asked him.

You could've had so many dates with him, yet here you are counting down the hours before you get killed.

You felt two arms wrap around you, making you flinch. "You should really stop thinking too hard, Y/N," Shoto said, pressing on the fold formed on your forehead. "The day is too precious for that."

After saying goodbye to his friends, he drove you to his apartment.

To say it was beautiful is an understatement.

There were so many potted plants that enhanced the small gold accents he placed throughout the small apartment. It was the perfect mix of greens with the feel of a modern-day home.

"For one of the richest Japanese people in the world, you have a very small apartment," you said, chuckling. "It's perfect."

For the rest of the day, you both binged on movies, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other.

You played with Todoroki's fingers that were wrapped around your waist. His head was directly on the not of your head. He then pressed his nose on your neck, deeply breathing in your scent, humming softly.

This was all you needed.

Him in your arms and you in his.

In his small, quaint apartment, away from everyone else.

Soon, his phone rang. You looked at the caller ID and you already knew what was going to happen.

Your time is up.

It was time for you to leave for good.

You felt his hesitation to pick up the phone, so you did it for him.

"Hello Aizawa, where should Todoroki and I meet you?" you asked, feeling the grip on your waist tighten.

"Okay, noted. We'll be there soon," you said, ending the call.

You felt your back getting warmer thanks to the tears falling from Shoto's eyes. "I'm not letting you go."

You can't cry now.

You need to be strong.

This isn't the time to succumb to the sadness, Y/N.

You turned your back to face your soulmate. You pressed your forehead and placed your hands on his cheeks. "Todo..."

He didn't reply.

He didn't want to.

"Todo..." you whisper again, your voice slightly shaking.

He puts his hands on yours, his sobs turning into sniffles.

You raised his face to face yours, eyeing his lips. Your thumb grazes on his burn, his eyes immediately closing, enjoying the feeling.

Slowly, you placed your lips on his. In an instant, he responded, pressing his lips on yours. Small sparks emitted from that small contact. Each time his lips devoured yours, you melted even more. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He wanted to feel you against him as much as he could.

Your hands left his cheeks and your arms moved to the back of his neck. You entangled your fingers in his dual-coloured hair, earning a small groan from him.

You soon pulled away. You placed the pad of your thumb on his lip, enjoying the feeling of it.

"Let me talk, okay?" you said. He soon nodded, knowing you wanted to get some things off your chest.

"Thank you for this, Sho. You gave me everything I could have ever wanted in these few hours, and for that, I am eternally grateful," you said, smiling weakly. "...You wanna know something?"

His eyes widened, focusing solely on you.

"The whole day I wondered if I didn't take over the mafia, how would we collide? Back then, I tried running away so many times. What if I managed to do it?" you started.

"I definitely would've tried out for UA for the support classes. I might have passed and entered 1-H. Maybe you needed to touch up your gear and you would've met me. But knowing how thick-headed we both are, we would've not seen the marks on each other's arms," you both laughed.

"We maybe would've crossed paths in the second year. I most probably would have developed a crush on you and maybe after seeing our marks, we would've begun dating." You said, cupping his cheeks. "Maybe we would be even sharing this very apartment."

"But that's not how our lives worked out. I got caught every single time and eventually gave in. I became the leader of Diavolos and I killed all those people, even the very person who gave me a glimpse of life as a normal kid," you began to tear, "I don't want to live like this anymore, Sho."

"I can't live remembering every single person I killed. I can't live carrying that Haladie blade and iron claw and not want to die almost every second. I can't live in this apartment without giving you all of me when you so easily can," you took a minute to calm yourself down, "I don't want to live anymore, Shoto."

Shoto's face darkened. "So, you're planning to leave me here, after - what - 25 years of waiting for you? You can't be this selfish, Y/N."

You knew that this was selfish.

Heck, anyone would know that this is selfish.

"I need to repent for my sins, Shoto. No community work can suffice for all the villainy I've committed," you ended.

The silence that ensued was deafening.

The sniffles that came from the both of you with the sound the fan gave off were the only sounds to come after.

After a few minutes, Shoto spoke. "All my life, I thought meeting your soulmate was something the Devil wished upon you. My father basically drove my mother to insanity and made my own oldest brother become a villain," he began. "I wish I could say the same about ours, but I can't."

"These few hours were the best fucking hours of my life. Every single moment I had with you is forever engraved in my mind, Y/N. You so easily broke my walls, ever since we were small," he gripped on you tighter, "I will always remember your small words to get me moving, how you'd push me to do more, to talk more and become more social."

"I love you, Y/N, but I need to give you away, right?" he said, looking at you with tear-filled eyes. His eyes begged you to deny the last statement, but your mind was already made up.

You nodded your head and pulled him into a hug.

Soon, you both were in his car, driving to where Aizawa asked to meet up.

Once you reached, you followed Aizawa and left Shoto in the room you were in before.

You got on the electric chair, closing your eyes as you felt the wet sponge being placed on your head.

From afar, you could hear Midoriya and Uraraka shouting at Aizawa to stop whatever he was doing, but Shoto stopped them.

You couldn't hear Shoto's answer when they asked why.

WC: 4406.

Ah, my favourite trope; messed up :'). I hope you enjoyed it! Each of the reblogs and likes is helping this blog grow, so thanks for all the support. Until the next fanfic! <3 First time hitting more than 2k word count so 0.0

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dadsbongos · 3 years

Text

Treehouse

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Katsuki Bakugou/Reader (and a lot of other people) Warnings: Spoilers for bakugou’s hero name ahead!!, songfic for this song Summary: Katsuki’s grown a lot since middle school, hasn’t he? ~~~

Do Not Enter's written on the doorway. Why can’t everyone just go away? Except you. You can stay.

Katsuki looked down at the girl in his arms, eyes fluttered shut and lashes fallen over her cheeks. Lips parted ever so slightly to let out puffs of even, laxed breathing. The golden sunlight shone in her hair as it beamed through his thin curtains, soft warmth spreading over both of their bodies. His fingers carefully danced over the tender skin of her arm as he held her close. Her head over his chest and he was sure that the sound of his thunderous heartbeat would wake her eventually.

It felt nice, he concluded, to hold his love so dearly. To let his chest deflate and not have to be the best of the best. He didn’t have to be anyone. He didn’t have to be Bakugou, Katsuki - top of the class. Bakugou, Katsuki - Dynamight. Bakugou, Katsuki - Kacchan. Bakugou, Katsuki.

If he didn’t want to, he didn’t have to be anyone. She’d hold him just as close with any other persona he wanted to wear. It was his real security. His real home - right in her arms. A home he didn’t want to leave.

He wasn’t sure when it hit him. Just one of those random thoughts you never expect but deep down, you knew the entire time. Something so simple and yet so earth shattering that merely breathing it into existence seemed catastrophic. He wasn’t sure when it hit him that he was terrified of losing her. So innately terrified that the very thought was enough to send his muscles a tremor.

The feeling, it wasn’t nice. But he knew exactly what was - living the life he could with (Y/n).

What do you think of my treehouse? It's where I sit and talk really loud. Usually, I'm all by myself.

“Man, you’re really saving my ass here, Bakubro!” Eijiro grinned, exposing his unnatural shark teeth.

Katsuki huffed, “Don’t think about it, shitty hair. You’re still not passing.”

“I know, I know,” the redhead nervously grinned, eyeing the rolled up newspaper in Katsuki’s hand as he did so, “It’s just manly of you to help me is all. You’ve changed, man, it’s kinda cool.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious!” Eijiro put down his pencil, “It’s cool.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but didn’t retort further. Whether he was ready to admit it or not, that usually would’ve gotten Kirishima, Eijiro a first-class newspaper swatting but he supposed he could let it pass. Just this once.

I’m the captain but you can be the deputy. I'm really glad you think I'm so funny. I don't think I'm ever gonna let you leave.

Denki bit at his bottom lip in concentration, more effort going into thinking about cracking the egg in his hand than actually cracking the egg in his hand. His brows were drawn tight toward his face, contemplating how he should go about his cracking to avoid a mess. The last time he was trusted to crack eggs, he’d gotten shell in the bowl and yolk all on the counter and his fingers. The last time he was trusted to crack eggs, he felt like an utter fool.

Looking over to the electric blond, Katsuki snarled at how little the boy had gotten done. Walking over, he took the egg still encased in its roughened shell from Denki in one hand and a bowl in the other. Tilting the porcelain bowl just right, Katsuki snapped the egg against the lip of the dish, pulling his fingers apart to hold the crack in the egg open so the yolk could drool down. Tossing out the eggshell, Katsuki watched as Denki took an egg for himself before copying exactly what the explosive teenager had done.

As two yolks drowned together in whites within their little bowl, Denki sung the praises of his dear friend, of Bakugou, Katsuki - and in Denki’s opinion, apparently, a masterchef.

Nodding stiffly, Katsuki turned back to his own task at buttering the pan as it laid atop its burner. He let silence rule the kitchen until Denki would break it with a lame joke he would never admit he liked.

Do Not Enter's written on the doorway. Why can’t everyone just go away? Except you. You can stay.

“You have such great lid space, though,” Mina clasped her hands tighter, “I think it’d be fun!”

Katsuki grumbled under his breath before sighing and tossing his head back, “I’ll give you twenty minutes. Starting fucking now.”

Squealing, Mina hopped onto the common room couch before unzipping her makeup bag, “Thanks, Bakugou!”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, barely managing to hold his underlying frustration inside, “Your damn funeral if you fuck up.”

“I won’t…” Mina pouted, “C’mon, don’t you believe in me? Just a little? You’ve seen what I can do.”

“I’ll believe for now.”

What do you think of my treehouse? It's where I sit and talk really loud. Usually, I'm all by myself.

“Oh, didn’t know the balconies were occupied,” Hanta awkwardly muttered.

Katsuki looked up from the ground below, brows furrowed and eyes stinging, “If you say anything to anyone, I’ll kill you myself.”

Putting his hands up, Hanta showed off that stupidly large, stupidly infectious grin, “Hey, man, everyone needs a good cry. I think it keeps us sane.”

Nodding silently, Katsuki stood at his railing, head hanging over and eyes clenched shut in a new effort to keep his tears in.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I’d rather die.”

“Maybe, instead of dying, you could just vent to a trusted friend who cares about you?” Hanta suggested, “You go to (L/n), right? Well, now you can come to me, too. We’re friends, Bakugou, we’re there for each other.”

I’m the captain but you can be the deputy.

Stirring inside his mind, were the thoughts he’d been keeping to himself since that fight. His real fight with Izuku. Where Katsuki won. The successor to All Might and boy wonder was beaten by Katsuki. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Izuku was making progress fast, far too fast. He was leaping towards the top and Katsuki could only watch on, feet trapped in the cement. The ground swallowing his body as Deku, the Quirkless one, the useless one, the crybaby, bound forward in success.

It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t enough. Bakugou, Katsuki was simply not enough.

That’s what he was beginning to believe; where he couldn’t even save himself from villains, Deku came rushing in to save him and succeeded.

Sitting at the kitchen island, alone, in the middle of the night, that’s what Katsuki was beginning to believe.

Lights flicker on, “Kacchan?”

Closing his eyes, Katsuki pretended there was no voice. Nobody behind him. No one but him awake at this awful hour.

“You’re usually in bed by now. Way before, actually.”

There was no reply. There didn’t need to be one. Izuku sat beside Katsuki all the same, an uneven, slightly nervous, smile on his face as he did so.

Katsuki opened his eyes, looking at the other boy from the corner of his peripheral, “You’ve made the power yours.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not as useless as I thought.”

“Thanks… you know, I’ve been meaning to ask… would you- would you train with me sometime? I think that I could really improve if I fought someone like you.”

“Someone like me? The fuck does that mean?”

“Strong. Well-versed in your Quirk. Other than Todoroki, you’re probably the best at Quirk application, so I wanted to see if I could fight you.”

“Ask daddy issues.”

“But then we couldn’t have our rematch. I still need to beat you, Kacchan, you know?”

I'm really glad you think I'm so funny.

Katsuki found himself staring at the back of Izuku’s head, brows furrowed. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. He couldn’t tell what exactly it was. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see her. (L/n), (Y/n) smiling at him softly, perfect lips tugged into a perfect grin on her perfect face. God, what he wouldn’t give to just grab her and kiss the smile off her face just to do it all over again. What he wouldn’t give to scream to the world he loved her.

“You okay? You’re tense.”

Glancing to the front, Shota still sleepily tucked in his sleeping bag in a corner of the room, Katsuki nodded, “Fucking fine. Just thinking.”

Setting her chin in the palm of her hand, (Y/n) tilted her head ever so slightly, “Wanna tell me about it?” shaking his head, the ash-blond went to refuse when she spoke up again, “Not here, if you wanna wait.”

He felt almost unworthy. Losing to Deku, killing the legacy of All Might, getting kidnapped by villains - Bakugou, Katsuki felt unworthy of his own lover’s comforts. Looking at the face of an angel would make you crazy - at least that’s what his father told him once. And so, he nodded slowly, “Sure. Later. Alone, though, I’m not talking shit in front of Raccoon Eyes and Dunce Face.”

“Whatever you need,” she murmured, giggling quietly to herself, “I’m here.”

I don't think I'm ever gonna let you leave.

“I’ll say this once.”

He burned the image of them into his brain. (Y/n) and Eijiro on either side of him on the common room couch. Denki just about ready to cut through the carrot cake Mina and Hanta slaved over despite trashing on the choice the entire time. Izuku was slightly off to the side, ready to hand off gifts to his childhood rival.

Katsuki sighed quietly, looking to his feet when a hand grabbed his, (Y/n) rubbing her thumb into his skin. He swallowed his pride before letting everything he felt about each and every person in the room manifest into the best phrase someone like him could imagine.

“Thanks. For everything.”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakusquad #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou appreciation post #he's great and i love him :3 soo i wrote this #song is treehouse by alex g if that wasn't clear

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olivetreehugger · 3 years

Text

SnK Scouts/Veterans as Health Care Workers

Note: features Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin and Hange. A part two to my “SnK Warriors as HCWs” post found here. warning: mentions of blood, trauma, gore (it’s healthcare). Also, I know Hange is nb, I headcanon them as female, so I will be using she/her pronouns.

Eren: this boy is definitely too involved in everything and has too many people depending on him at once to not be a nurse. The kid barely passed the NCLEX but that didn’t stop him from applying to every trauma center within a 25 mile radius of him. He got hired as a night shift trauma ICU nurse and he frequently picks up shifts in the ER. He wears the cheapest scrubs he can find, often stained with ink in the pockets area. He isn’t a shitty nurse per se but there are tasks that still need to be done at the end of his shift and he gives a crappy report that’s missing too many details. Nurses hate picking up his patients, it’s always a mess. His charting is really spotty and he gets called into the manager’s office all the time to fix it.

Still, he tries really hard to improve his time management and skills. He wants to be like his friends Mikasa and Reiner, who are the best nurses he knows. He wants to be involved in the traumatic cases and emergencies because he wants to learn as much as he possibly can. He’s really good at wound care, for some reason (hint hint). He’s kinda cocky sometimes too, which can be troublesome when Dr. Galliard is working. People know to steer clear of those two when they’re both in the ER. Also, Eren always has a black cloud around him; whenever he works it’s gonna be a hella busy day in the hospital. Lots of emergency surgeries, intubations, codes and deaths. He’ll always jump in to help you if your patient is crashing, though, no matter how busy he is.

Mikasa: she’s a prodigy. She was a straight ‘A’ student in nursing school, got a perfect 75 on the NCLEX and was immediately hired to the trauma ICU after doing a short internship there. She worked night shift for a year but her sleep schedule was so so fucked she started having night terrors, so she switched to day shift. Eren still calls her a traitor for it :/. She keeps trying to get him to switch over but he just hisses at her and threatens to chug a case of Monster energy drinks. She hasn’t given upon him yet, though.

This girl’s work ethic is beyond measure. She comes in exactly at 6:30 am, looks up her patients, takes report, gives a great update to the doctors when they round, and provides impeccable care to her patients. She knows exactly which treatments the doctors will order before they even speak. She’s incredible at inserting IVs--everyone in the hospital knows Mikasa Ackerman can put an 18g in a 90 yr old lady’s arm AND get blood return (just trust me, it’s flipping impossible). She has great skill when it comes to emergency situations and is a big believer in team work. If she notices your patient’s crashing and you don’t know what to do, she’ll calmly coach you and save your patient, too. All before lunch time.

It doesn’t take Mikasa long to be promoted to charge nurse. When she’s in charge all the reports, paperwork and audits are completed before shift change. She divides the patient assignments really well and is very fair to the new grads. All around she’s an incredible nurse and leader on her unit, but don’t be fooled. If it’s been a rough day, Mikasa will get in her car and sob so loud her throat goes raw. A lot of people depend on her and working in a trauma ICU is really, really demanding. A lot of patients are demanding, rude and busy. She has a lot of trouble with stress management and is thinking of cutting her hours down so she can catch a break. Someone please hug her <3

Armin: for some reason my brain is just SCREAMING respiratory therapist. Like, I imagine this beautiful blond boy in gray scrubs (the color for RT’s in my hospital) going around helping intubate patients, giving nebulizer treatments and doing blood gases. I can just see him huffing and puffing when the attending doctor is overzealous about weaning vent support. -“Why are we changing the patient to pressure support? do you see how tachypneic he is on volume control?”

-“are you gonna put in the order? if not, your patient’s gonna be on PRVC all day, I’m not changing it without an order”

-“Doc, the patient looks like crap and their blood gas looks like death...oh, you still wanna extubate? ok, well I’m gonna leave the ventilator in here just in case. better yet, let me call a pastor in here, too.”

This kid is sassy af and he knows it. He’s smart af too, knows everything there is to know about the lungs and respiratory care. Knows every ventilator mode better than most doctors. Will certainly tell a resident off for ordering the wrong type of inhaler for a patient. He’s so damn intelligent that he even made the ice queen Annie melt like a popsicle.

He has no chill when it comes to his patients and even less chill (like -4078875874670) when a doctor gets in his way. For this reason, Armin has recently been toying with the idea of going to PA school so he can have a little more autonomy. He works al over the hospital, usually frequenting the trauma, CV, and medical ICU. The nurses there love him.

Jean: Jeannie boy. Baby. Sweetie. He’s also a nurse. He is strictly dayshift and trauma. When he first started, he thought he’d do a year in the ICU and then go to CRNA school. He didn’t want to be around sickly patients with hopes and dreams and fears--it was too icky for him. But, over time, he learned that he LOVED trauma. Jean loves the controlled chaos that comes with the ugly, bloody messes that roll in through the ICU’s doors. He always gears up for trauma season (summer time) by bringing Dunkin Donuts iced coffee for everyone on the unit (day and night shift because he’s a supportive king). He gets really good at dealing with arrogant trauma residents and ortho docs who think they’re hot shit. When Jean sees a resident yelling at a nurse, he jumps in and threatens to have their license revoked. He will dig under their skin and page them incessantly throughout the day, too, just to get back at them. Jean is not a fan of lateral violence in the workplace, no sir.

He always, always makes sure every room is stocked and new bags are hanging for the next shift. He has a thing where if things aren’t properly organized on the unit his brain just spazzes. He’s on the unit council and education committee because he also loves to teach the new grads. He also doubles as charge nurse, when management can’t be there (there can be one or more charge nurses amongst the staff, they usually work different days, though) He and Mikasa work so well together, teaming up to get tasks done, coding patients, running them down to get scanned, etc. People joke they’re the mom and dad of the unit. It makes them both blush <3 (Eren doesn’t like it, lol)

Jean loves to see patients healing from horrendous injuries, he’s constantly cracking jokes with the awake patients to try to make them feel better, and he’s really good at calming anxious family members down. Our boy just makes such good connections with people. He’s the guy you call when your confused patient is one second away from ripping his breathing tube out. He can convince the most restless, agitated patient to chill out. He’s got the voice for it. Also people love his mullet. It looks great.

Connie: I really didn’t know at first but I feel like Connie would make a great physical therapist. He’s got great energy, he’s funny and I could see him dancing to Earth, Wind & Fire in front of his patients to hype them up for therapy. He’d be very sweet with them

Sasha: I’m sick and tired of the food jokes, quite honestly. She’s more than that. In my mind, she’s an occupational therapist, helping disabled patients learn to feed, dress and clean themselves again. She works directly with Connie as they round on all their patients in the hospital, they make a great team! She’s extremely patient and would make a very good nurse, but is unsure of where life is taking her. That is until she meets Niccolo the dietician in the cafeteria, and she falls hard. He encourages her to follow her heart and she does!

Levi: Hm. This one stumped me. Levi is a bit...cold. It’s not like he has incredible social skills. He’s meticulous and focused and kinda mean? He reminds me of an anesthesiologist, tbh. Like he’ll sedate the shit outta you for surgery, makes sure you don’t die on the table, and then drops you off to the unit as fast as he can. He never takes off his mask while in the hospital and he scrubs maybe four times before surgery. He is very good at medication calculations and knows everything about nerve blocks, intubation, pain medication and sedation. He can look at a person and just KNOW what kind of sedative to give and how much. Your blood pressure will never bottom out while he’s there, he’ll warn the surgeon and immediately get that norepinephrine started.

If Zeke is the one operating, Levi is on his ass to finish up the surgery ASAP and to not linger, because Zeke takes his time and ignores the tele monitor alarming in the background. After surgery, this 5′2 demon will scream at the 6′ resident about the importance of blood pressure management and sedation in neurosurgical patients. Levi plays no games and he also just really hates Zeke lol

He seems like a jerk but genuinely cares about getting his peeps through surgery. His favorite surgeon to work with is Hange Zoe, because she’s brilliant and fast, but also cognizant of her patient’s hemodynamics. Levi likes taking trauma cases as long as it’s with her. When he drops a patient off to the trauma ICU or goes there to intubate, he makes sure Jean or Mikasa are there because he knows everything is gonna go smoothly. He trusts them a lot. He likes Armin, too and even let him intubate a few times. On his breaks, he’s drinking tea and reading a Williams & Sonoma catalog or scrolling through cleaning Tik Tok lol.

Erwin: This man. This beautiful and hunky beefcake. Omg. I HC him as someone who went to nursing school, became a charge nurse on the trauma unit back in the early 2000′s and fell in love with it. Erwin would eventually fall in love with leadership and educating, too. He went back to school and earned his Doctorate of Nursing Practice (a practice doctorate). He managed the trauma unit for ten years before his brilliant leadership skills and wicked smart brain got him elected as the Director of Trauma Surgery recently. He is the first person with a nursing degree and DNP to ever accomplish this, so it’s very controversial. A lot of toxic doctors threaten to leave the hospital for this (because they’re assholes), but Erwin threatens to fire them in response and it usually shuts them up.

He often holds lectures in the hospital auditorium. With a mind and voice like his, people are so drawn in by him. He advocates for nursing staff, for reimbursement when continuing their education, better staffing, parking, etc. He makes nice with doctors and gets them to sign petitions for the nurses to get these things. He’s a bit manipulative He’s also a fantastic manager and director, he’s really good at negotiating things. The nurses and residents all love him because he rounds on every ICU frequently, brings food, and asks them how he can help. He can be a bit daunting because of his height and deep voice but once he starts talking to you, you just get sucked in. All around an absolute king.

Hange: This character reminds me of a trauma surgeon and intensivist (ICU doctor) we have, Dr. Omi. A great surgeon, really really smart, but takes absolutely NO bullshit. She will yell at you if you freeze during intubating. She wants you to recite every step before you take it, otherwise she’ll take the tube from you and do it herself. In surgery, she’s the same way. She wants you to learn, but by her standards. If she asks a question, you better know the answer or fess up right away, she doesn’t like the “uhms” of uncertainty as you try to search for a shitty response. Either you know it or you don’t. And if you don’t, she’ll teach you. Yeah she can be rough around the edges, but she’s got a big heart. She loves her trauma team. She buys them breakfast and gives them funny personalized gifts. One time, she bought an apply tree for Mikasa and brought it to her car at the end of a shift. Mikasa forgot to plant it and it died in her backseat. Hange will sometimes ask, “Mikasa, how’s your apple tree growing?” and Mikasa will lie through her teeth. “It’s growing!” Fess up, Mikasa. Those google search apple trees are starting to look familiar.

All around Hange loves to work and teach. She is a wonderful trauma surgeon and has saved tons of lives.

#snk headcanons #attack on titan #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #connie springer #sasha braus #levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #lama writes

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imomomi · 4 years

Photo

A/N: This is part of a BTS x Haikyuu collab, the masterlist can be found here and inspired by the song Serendipity.

Summary: Kuroo’s life was meant to be simple. Go to Nationals, try to win, and get into a good college. But, it all goes haywire when Kenma brings a cat to practice. Now, Kuroo must rethink everything he knew about life and himself.

Rain pattered on the windows of Gym B as the team stretched. Kuroo looked around the gym wondering what was holding Kenma up. It was unusual for him to be late or skip practice, but the rain might have contributed to the slight cold he’d been developing over the last week. Kuroo wondered if it was better to cancel their Friday practice and give everyone the chance to get home before the storm got any worse. Coach Nekomata would most likely agree.

The gym doors open with a bang and a roll of thunder echoing from outside. The noise and flash of lightening that followed sent his heart into his mouth. Kenma entered, not a drop of water on him despite the heavy rain. Nestled in his arms rested a sleeping cat. Its gray fur gleamed unnaturally beneath the gym lights.

The sight of their setter cooing softly to the cat sent a whirl of enthusiasm through the team, especially Lev who jumped towards Kenma long limbs shaking with excitement.

“Let me see,” he demanded, attempting to snatch the cat out of Kenma’s hands. Kenma dodged him easily, but the cat startled and lept out of his hands. It strode slowly across the gym floor, coming to a stop between Yaku and Kuroo.

“Leave her alone, Lev,” said Kenma. A sharp slap filled the air and Lev hissed, rubbing at his stinging hand. “She was lost, I couldn’t just leave her.”

Kuroo knelt and held a hand towards the cat to coax her forward. She stared at the limb curiously and then sat on her back legs, holding her own paw up. He was shocked with the paw tapped against his palm as if high fiving him.

“She did that to me too,” said Kenma softly. The cat jumped at the sound of his voice, jumping over Kuroo’s outstretched towards Kenma. She settled at his feet, tail wrapping around his ankle.

“She’s smart,” said Kuroo. Kenma hummed, nodding in agreement.

“You need to take Fuku home,” said Kenma. Lucky. There was something cute about Kenma naming a cat that.

“What? Why?”

“My mom won’t let her stay. And…I found her curled up in your jacket.”

“I can’t take her home! Where is she going to stay?”

“It’s just for a couple of days, until we find a new home for her.”

Kuroo looked down at the cat. Bright gold eyes met his. He knew whatever fight he would put up, Kenma had an answer for. Outside the storm raged on. The smell of rain wafted into the gym. The rumble of lightening sounded like the purr of a cat.

“You’ll behave, won’t you?” He rubbed the spot between Fuku’s ears. The cat didn’t respond, but her nose twitched and filled Kuroo with an uneasy sense of foreboding.

A couple of days turned into weeks. Kuroo kept the act up and asked Kenma day after day if he had found a new owner. But, part of him was growing used to having Fuku there. Each day, she would wake before him, padding quietly across his room to burrow in his sock drawer. Sometimes he let her out when he went on a run. When he came back, she’d sit on their roof snacking on fish or dried squid. Other days, Fuku would follow him and Kenma to school. Though she never rode the train with them, he would find her wandering the grounds during lunch.

Kuroo wondered if Kenma had done it on purpose. At home, Kuroo was often alone. His grandparents would take day trips to visit their various friends and his father worked late. Talking to a cat was a step closer to insanity, but it was nice having someone to vent too, even if she couldn’t quiet respond.

He liked it most when Fuku would curl next to him on the bed, her gaze focused on his books as if she understood the words printed on the page. Sometimes he would read aloud to break the silence. It was a calm and quiet peace that he hadn’t known he was lacking.

Today, Fuku rested on his bed, curled around one of his old sweatshirts. She pawed at the logo curiously.

“Nekoma. Like you, neko-chan. I’m the captain of the volleyball team.”

A head tilt.

“Yeah, I know. I don’t seem like the type to be responsible and all that, but you’d be surprised.”

She lept from the bed, skidding across his desk. The poster he had been working on—why didn’t they have a manager?!—crumbled under her paws.

“Shit,” he cursed. Annoyance flared. Sometimes Fuku did things like this; whatever luck her name brought must have been buried deep. “I need that for fundraising.”

The cat blinked and stretched, crunching the poster even more. He had the weird feeling that, she had done it deliberately to annoy him with an apathetic air of calm.

He needed new friends…and a new cat.

Wind blew into the empty classroom as Kuroo unlocked the latch on the windows. He’d offered to clean, only to avoid being too early to practice. Last time, he’d shown up on time, Yaku had spent a half hour mocking him for being more of an old man than Coach Nekomata. Chalk dug into his cuticles. A healthy layer of dust stuck to the front of his sweater. The classroom had last been cleaned by Tsubaki Ayumi, a girl who did her homework seconds before their sensei walked in. She cleaned in the same fashion, pushing crumbs beneath desks and under the bookshelf. Kuroo found his annoyance growing.

The trees rustled. A fresh flutter of petals fell onto the window ledge from the blossoming trees outside. But, something else stuck between the trees. Kuroo narrowed his eyes. Was that someone’s jumper?

“Hello,” a voice called. Kuroo looked up and jumped back. A girl was hanging from the ledge of the window, smiling at him.

“Wh….what? Who are you?”

“That’s not very nice.” she said. One of her hands left the ledge to pull her hair away from her face and his heart lurched out of his chest.

“Are you insane? You��ll fall!” he shouted, jumping to grab her wrist and pull her into the classroom. She was wearing their school uniform, and Kuroo vaguely knew he had seen her at Nekoma before. She fell into the classroom face front and hissed.

A poster was thrust into his hands. “Have you seen this cat?”

“Who are you? How did you climb that high?”

“I didn’t climb up. I climbed down from the roof.”

“What year are you in? Which homeroom? You can’t just do that!”

Her head tilted, “We’re in the same class.”

His hands twisted in his hair. Tie loosened; blazer tossed over the back of his chair. Her knees were scrapped, stockings bloodied. On his seventh birthday, he had climbed the tallest tree in his backyard and had gotten stuck for an hour. His father had come home to find him crying on the back porch cut up from sliding down the trunk of the tree. He peered at the girl’s face, the little cuts on her cheeks and looked at the tree outside their classroom. Had she really climbed down from the roof?

“I’ll take you to the nurse. Come on,” he said. She jumped as he moved, almost frightened by his tallness. But she followed. Her nose stuck high in the air and her steps were light and airy.

“Kuroo-san, my cat?”

“What’s your name?”

“My name?” she murmured. Her fingers traced a pattern on her temple. “We’ve been in the same class for three years. Four, if you count Junior High.”

He looked at her for a long while. Kuroo wasn’t the type to forget people and someone like her didn’t seem like the type to be easily overlooked. Guilt swirled and he tried his hardest to think of her name. He usually avoided the girls in class. Not that there was something wrong with them, they just had a vision of him in their heads that was often outlandish compared to his actual personality.

“It’s alright, Kuroo-san.”

“Kuroo? Y/N?” Kai entered the classroom, looking surprised to find the two of them together. Y/N jerked back. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt as if it will somehow hide her scrapped knees.

“Y/N? Oh, you’re the one…” he trailed off. The one whose mother had died. His unspoken words shook in the air. A pure longing to flee the room filled him. Kai spared him a pitying glance and guided Y/N out of the room.

Their teacher warned them not to bring it up to Y/N who returned from a week’s absence looking pale and withdrawn. Kuroo had never really noticed her. Silent was a word he rarely associated with people, but Y/N had always been like that. His memories of her were sparse at best. But once in their second year, she had freaked out when one of the other boys stole her confession letter and read it aloud. No one really remembered who she was trying to confess too, but everyone remembered the bruise on that had bloomed on Takashi’s face after she punched him.

Now, everyone remembered her because of her dead mother.

He looked down at the poster and let out a loud groan. Only he had this type of luck. The cat staring up at him was Fuku.

Kenma disappeared behind the door, shutting it softly behind him. Y/N and Kuroo stood silently beside one another, looking at the door for a moment. Y/N swallowed, turning away and starting to walk forward. Kuroo walked beside her, bag swinging from his arm with a casual grace. Alone and far from her earlier mania, Y/N was increasingly shy. She seemed almost embarrassed by her actions.

“Come on,” said Kuroo.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head sharply, hands tightening into fists at her side, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just worried about Fuku.”

Y/N glanced down at her wrist, which was slightly swollen and a raw red that would surely give way to a bruise come morning. Kuroo was quiet; so was Y/N. Both trapped within their own minds, riding spiraling thoughts.

“Can I ask—” Y/N lifted her gaze and met his. He hesitated and then rambled forth, “—what’s so special about the cat?”

“Of course, you can.” Silence. He stared at her. She stared back. “Oh, that was you asking.”

“Yeah.” A smile tugged at his lips.

“Fuku is lucky.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, I hardly know you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hmm.”

“So, Kai and you seem to get along. Have you been friends long?”

“Since first year.”

“That’s nice. Bet he asked you to come to a ton of volleyball games.”

“Uhh, no, not really.”

This was awkward. Too awkward. What did he say? Volleyball was his usual go-to topic, but she seemed uninterested. The sky above them was overcast and gray, dark clouds edging over the horizon. His grandfather should be home. Maybe, they could offer Y/N a ride if it started raining, but he hoped that she would be gone before then.

“Kuroo, you’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?” she said. A stunned look came over his face as his mouth fell open slightly. Nonsensical words fell from his mouth as he attempted to stutter out an answer. Y/N scrunched her nose.

“What? Why are you asking that?”

“Hinako—she’s the class president—always says you’re ‘very mature’ when we’re in the locker room, but you’re kinda odd.”

Heat spread across his nose and cheeks. If the world worked the way he wanted it to, it would open up and swallow him at this moment. They stopped in front of a tall narrow house that hid a wide backyard. His grandmother was seated on the front stairs, tending to a pot of roses. She looked up as they approached. Her eyes flickered towards Y/N and back to him; a wide smile stretched across her face.

“Tetsu, did you bring a friend over?”

Y/N bowed low. “I’m L/N Y/N. Kuroo-san found my cat Fuku. I’m sorry if she caused you any trouble the last few weeks.”

“She’s been the sweetest cat,” she stood and stretched. “Come inside, have you eaten? I hope Tetsurou hasn’t been making any trouble for you.”

“Obaa-chan, she’s going to get Fuku and leaving,” Kuroo groaned. His grandmother paid no attention to his words. She dusted off her apron and ushered Y/N into the house. He followed behind slowly. His grandfather was seated on the floor, watching a game of football on the television. The sharp, crisp smell of lemon filled his nose. The floors are still slightly wet from when his grandmother had cleaned them.

“Oi, Tetsu, a girl?”

“No, Ojii-san. She’s here for Fuku.”

From the kitchen, he heard the crack of an egg and the sizzle of butter. Y/N would not leave without a full belly. Y/N was telling a shortened version of her story. He winced when Y/N mentioned having gone to Junior High with him. There would be no end to the questions later.

“A cat?”

“Her cat. Climbed a tree and everything looking for her. I almost had a heart attack when she came by our classroom window.”

His grandfather laughed: a laugh that immediately warmed the room.

“Fuku,” crooned Y/N. The cat hissed and crawled underneath his bed. Y/N followed. In his head, he ran over the last time he had cleaned his room. Hadn’t Kenma thrown his ramen cups down there at one point? Kuroo had the nasty habit of leaving his laundry everywhere. He prayed that all his underwear were in the hamper.

“Ahh, fuck. Ow…”

“You ok?”

She wiggled out from under the bed, a thin layer of dust covered her uniform and hair. Her cheeks puffed out and Y/N held her arm out to him, showing the red scratches that now covered her arm.

“Is she not your cat?”

“She is. It’s Fuku…she’s being difficult.”

He didn’t quiet understand. A cat was a cat, it exhibited certain animalistic behaviors, but it was still domesticated. Fuku never really scratched anything, just the occasional paper and bedsheet. Why would she attack Y/N? Ruby ran over the slightly swollen cuts. It was on her wrist too, the one she had hurt climbing the tree at school.

“Shit—sit by my desk. I’ll get you some band aids.”

“It’s alright. Fuku didn’t scratch that deep. I think she’s had a bit of trouble recognizing me after being gone for so long.” Her voice was brittle, caught with unshed tears. There was a story behind the cat that Y/N wasn’t ready to share that. Kuroo should be more curious, but he’s still reeling for the girl who emerged at dinner—funny and sharing stories with his grandfather that are equally rowdy as the best of his.

Fuku crawled out from under the bed, padding to his side. Her tail wrapped around his ankle. Kuroo bent and picked her up, holding her out to Y/N. Fuku struggled in his grip and escaped the moment his hands loosened.

Y/N’s face fell. Kuroo’s sure he wasn’t meant to catch the flash of genuine distress that crossed her face.

“I think it’s best she stays here for the night,” Y/N said. Her earlier merriment has all but faded. “Can I try again tomorrow?”

Kuroo doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

“Dad?” she called. No answer. The door was locked, his shoes gone.

Y/N had not seen her father for many days. Since her mother had died, he had become a ghost. Coming and going at odd hours. Choosing to sleep in his office rather than his bedroom. There are nights when she woke and found him pouring over old photo albums. She despised his silence and hated her own cowardness. She cannot put a name to the feeling that cropped up when her thoughts wondered to her mother. Her stomach pulled and tugged, and she felt ready to shout. Even school and her books were not enough to distract her.

What she really wanted was her mother back. Instead, she lived in a quiet state of discomfort, torn between aiding her grieving father and acknowledging that her mother was gone.

She ventured further into the house. Everything was a reminder of her mother. The wallpaper redone when they first learned of her illness. The couches belonged to her mother’s mother. The kitchen sat unused for many months. Y/N did not know how to cook and most of her afternoons were spent in the hospital by her mother’s side. It was unfair that she had to face the reminder every day while her father hid from it.

“Guess, it’s just me,” Y/N muttered. Fuku’s water bowl evaporated in the weeks she was gone. Y/N shuffled toward the kitchen and took a water pitcher to refill it. One day, she would come back. Y/N would pry her out of Kuroo’s hands if she had too.

Five years ago, her mother had arrived home, soaked and sniffling with a tiny kitten clutched between her hands. Y/N’s father, half exasperated, half charmed, scolded her as he helped her warm up. They seemed so content with one another and lost in a world only the two of them knew. When Y/N remembered her parents together, she remembered that day.

Maybe that was why she felt so desperate to get Fuku back. Fuku was just a cat, but she held a small piece of what Y/N had lost. Her life had become disjointed fragments that Y/N couldn’t reassemble.

Some days slid by in a haze: warm, cold, good, and bad. She felt as if she had lost something greater than just her mother. A piece of her had shriveled. She tossed her jacket on the couch. She climbed the stairs. She slept and woke again. The same endless cycle.

He missed the train that morning. Kenma was down with a slight fever and his stop at the convenience store to pick up medicine had set his schedule off. Now, trapped between a crowd of salarymen, Kuroo tried to inch forward. If he missed this train, he would miss morning practice entirely.

The hiss and rumble of a train engine was a sound that normally would put Kuroo to sleep. On long trips they took to training camps or practice matches, he looked forward to the naps he’d take on the train. Though it was rare that he could sleep for longer than an hour, given his team.

His eyes skim the platform, stopping on a familiar figure. So, Y/N took this train too. His father attempted to drive her home last night, but she insisted that she lived nearby and left in such a hurry that Kuroo got scolded for letting her go alone.

He thought that she looked lonely. Hadn’t he looked like that too once? Before he met Kenma, Kuroo was shy and nervous. Tokyo was huge, full of smoke and buildings taller than any Kuroo had ever seen. And, his mother was gone. It was years since he thought of his early grief over her death. His grandparents, father, and friends all helped ease the pain.

A train passed by; a gust of hot wind followed its trail. Kuroo inched forward. Y/N still hadn’t seen him. Her head was tucked down, nose buried in a thick book. What a nerd.

“L/N?” he called.

She didn’t react. The page flipped. Kuroo hovered near her awkwardly. She liked her cat, maybe that would get her talking. Or he could scare her. As he’s about to creep next to her, her gaze lifted and met his. Kuroo coughed and pressed his hands behind his back.

“You look like a con-man,” said Y/N.

Kuroo’s face twisted, “Ehh, I swear you’re out to get me or something.”

“No, I just pay attention. It’s not hard.” The book snapped closed. The corners of her eyes tightened. “How is Fuku?”

“Are you still mad she likes me more than you?”

Her lips pursed. “She does not!”

“I’m pretty sure she wanted to stay with me. Maybe you’re a dog person?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. Why are you taking this train? Where is Kozume-san?”

“Are you a stalker? Cause, I don’t have any kind of inheritance or anything. My death will be worth nothing.”

“No. I take the same train and you’re incredibly loud. Far too loud for the morning.”

“Late start?”

“I was up late.”

Their train pulled into the station. A swarm of people step on, all dressed in various suits and ties, heading deeper into the city where they’ll work until sunset. Kuroo pressed his hand against the door and let Y/N step in first. That was the day Kuroo and Y/N became friends. Kuroo never truly knew how much she needed someone those days.

Their friendship came like a crack in a dam, first a slow trickle of water than all at once. Kuroo was slightly stunned by how seamlessly Y/N fit into his life. There are times when he’s surprised by aspects of her personality. A ruthlessness came out during their economics classes and they’ve become known for their frequent debates during history. Y/N took her lunches with Kai or her other friends, but there are days when she joined him and Kenma, exchanging quick words over coding, game theory and design.

One Monday, he dropped a smoothie by her desk. He’d never seen her drink anything but her bottled green tea, but it felt like the right thing to do that morning.

“I’m not letting you copy my homework,” she said, dryly, “What’s in this?”

“Strawberry, apple, ginger and spinach.”

“Sounds disgusting healthy,” she said. Taking a sip, she made a face at the sharp aftertaste of ginger. “Do you actually need the homework?”

“This is a college prep class, we’re not all slackers,” he said. He knocked his knuckles on her desk, pulling a sheet of her math homework over and flapping it in the air. She grimaced, remembering the half an hour she spent trying to figure out why her answer to number seven was wrong.

“Just checking,” she answered, snatching the worn sheet back and tucking it into her folder.

“Wanna be our manager?” he asked. The words slipped out before he realized, but Kuroo didn’t regret asking.

“Really?”

He thought about it. “Yeah, it’d be nice to have someone help with all the planning.”

“But shouldn’t you ask your team first?”

“I’m the captain. Yaku and Kai already know you, Kenma too.”

Y/N didn’t look like she would say no. In fact, she seemed a bit pleased at being asked. Someone—Takashi no doubt—knocked his bag over as they made their way to their seat. He didn’t get an answer, but Kuroo formulated a plan to get her to do it. He had a feeling that Coach Nekomata would help her, the same way he had helped Kuroo—or maybe being around the team would take away some of the despair that crossed her face when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“I have a question,” she said, leaning forward. Her eyes gave nothing away. The flat line of her mouth reminded him of her expression when she came across a particularly hard math problem.

“Well, what is it?”

“What’s with the hair?” she asked flatly. Instinctively, his hand rose up to try and flatten the mess. Bedhead. A case so severe he’d never figured out just what to do with it. Rumors had spread around the school about his nighttime activities giving him an unsavory reputation when it came to dating. None of it was true, but once the rumors had started, there was no real way to end them. The truth was that his hair was a result of too many pillows and constant movement while sleeping.

“It’s not what you think,” he blurted out. “I’ve tried to get rid of it. Nothing works. I live my life in a constant state of dishevelment.”

“Just sleep like a normal person?” she suggested.

“I do!”

“Of course, you do.”

“What are you doing here?” Kuroo asked. The look of mock surprise fell away and a slow smirk grew on his face. “Curiosity finally go to you?” he asked.

Y/N didn’t answer, waving her hand in the air to draw him closer. He pointed at himself, mocking her silent request. She did it again, rolling her eyes as he slowly sauntered forward.

“Closer,” she murmured. He inched nearer; body angled toward her. Before he could dodge, her fingers latched onto his ear, pulling him down to her level. A yelp left his mouth, and his body twitched, trying to get away from her hands.

“Did I agree to be your manager?”

“That hurts,” he whined. She let him go, cheeks puffing out in annoyance. Nekoma had been a volleyball powerhouse for years, but they had an astonishingly bad record when it came to keeping a manager. Having witnessed his teammates practice, it was no wonder why. They were loud, rambunctious and whoever was their manager needed to be able to deal with the multiple personalities that were on the team. Dodging Kuroo’s insanity, Yaku’s temper, Lev’s wild arms, and the rogue spikes that would no doubt leave bruises was too much for any one person.

“First fight?” Yaku muttered, passing by them. Y/N stuck up her middle finger which he mimicked seconds later, sending a mocking smile in her direction.

“So, you’ll do it?” Kuroo asked, drawing her attention back to him. “We don’t expect you to show up to every practice. I know you have your own stuff to deal with afterschool and we don’t want to get in the way of that. But having someone at our games to help out would be better than nothing.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Other than getting to spend more time with me?”

“Yes, other than that,” she said, rolling her eyes. Kuroo’s smile fell, lips twisting to the side. Pressing a hand to her shoulder, he leaned down, so they were eye-level. She wondered if there was some spirit in Nekoma that lent that cat-like glint to everyone’s eyes or if it was an aftereffect of spending so much time at the school.

“Think of your college resume,” he said seriously.

“That just makes me want to say no.” A soft laugh left her, nose scrunching.

“What do you want then?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“When you do, let me know. I’ll make sure you get it, whatever it is,” he promised.

The air in Tokyo was crisp and brought with it the sweet smell of summer and freshly burnt wood. The sun inched past the horizon, giving way to the thick velvet of a star strewn sky. Y/N pulled her jacket closer, looking at the rising form of Tokyo’s Skytree. The streets seemed so familiar it left her with the annoying nag of déjà vu. Curling her fingers into her fist, Y/N pushed away the familiar ache of pain that she often ignored.

Her father walked on ahead of her, head hanging low, shoulders slumped. In a couple of months, Y/N would reach the one-year mark. One year without her mother and then the gap would grow. She’d never admit to her father, that there were times where she missed her mother so much that she was left with a void of sorrow that did nothing but grow endlessly. He missed her too. It was strewn across his face at the oddest of moments. Once when he had been scolding her for coming home late after practice, he had stopped in the middle, face sagging with grief. Those looks seared into Y/N’s mind, reminding her at every moment just how much they had lost.

“It should be up here,” he muttered, turning to face her with a small smile. Y/N nodded, mutely. Following his quick strides, she pushed her hands into her pockets, poking one finger out of the forgotten hole. A trail of lanterns began to light the sky. Her father paused, offering her his shaking hand. Grasping it tightly, she linked elbows with him, pressing against his side.

A small temple was tucked away into an old square that was a remnant of the days before Tokyo had been made capital. The streets were lined with stalls, selling fishcakes, yakitori, and other festival foods. All around them families dressed in summer yukatas passed. The smell of burning fires wafted in the air. Y/N felt slightly undressed. Ahead, waiting between the gate of the temple was a familiar figure.

“Kuroo?” she asked. He stood at the entrance of the temple with his family. Both of his grandparents were wearing yukata, heavily embroidered but made of thin fabrics.

“Oi, Y/N—” He froze at the sight of her father and offered a quick, polite bow. “You should have said you were coming; I would have waited for you.”

“I…my father and I wanted to come together.”

“Is this a classmate?” her father asked.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, sir. Y/N and I are friends.”

“He’s the one who found Fuku,” said Y/N. Her father frowned. She wondered if he also missed their cat. Or maybe, he was startled by the news that Fuku had been missing.

“I’ll go ahead, Y/N,” he said. Before she could stop him, her father disappeared up the steps of the temple. Y/N sighed.

Kuroo stared at her, his brows pinched together. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s our first time coming without my mother,” she explained, wringing her hands nervously. Understanding flickered across Kuroo’s face. Hands, slightly calloused but smooth, pressed over hers. The warm touch anchored her. Y/N breathed sharply, instantly seeking out the broken bits of comfort she could find. It wasn’t fair to Kuroo though, to burden him with her grief. She pulled away.

“Y/N.”

She looked in the distance where the shadow of her father stalked.

“Look at me.”

“I should go.”

“My mom died when I was seven.”

She froze. Kuroo moved closer, calm but steady as if trying to stop a wild animal from fleeing. She felt like that; caught in the snare of his words.

“We can’t compare griefs. But, when I lost her, I felt like the world had shattered. You don’t need to pretend to be happy…not with me.”

Her lip quivered. She said in a small voice, “I miss her.”

The sun burned past the horizon; around them a thousand voices spoke over one another. Kuroo stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. She breathed in sharply and held on tight, as if to trap his comfort in her grip. Thank you, she wanted to say. Kuroo swayed slightly and she knew that he could hear her unspoken words.

Y/N did not become their manager. Not officially at least. She tended to show up to practice only to follow him home and attempt to coax Fuku into coming home with her. The day she succeeded was bright and sunny. Kuroo was half listening to her story about how Yamamoto and Kenma had been fighting while he was in the locker rooms.

His mind was spirling down a dangerous path. Kuroo found himself entirely focused on Y/N. He doesn’t understand why. She didn’t seem remotely interested in him. He had no time to waste, twisting his throughs over a girl. But, as much as he tried to avoid thinking of her that way, he found himself entertaining the same line of thought over and over again.

“Sorry what?” he asked, realizing that she was waiting for an answer.

Y/N laughed. “Coach Nekomata told me you had a training camp?”

“Oh, yeah. If you come, you can finally meet Bokuto. And Tsukki. And all the rest.”

“How tempting, me and a bunch of mangers cleaning up your sweat.”

As they reached his house, Y/N bounded forward to greet his grandmother. Sometimes he was convinced she was only friends with him, so she would be fed. The amount of bentos he had brought to school for her exceeded normal standards.

“Obaa-san, it isn’t good for you back to be hunched over the plants like that,” Y/N scolded. She helped his grandmother up the stairs, chatting all the while.

Kuroo followed them into the house. Y/N didn’t bother going upstairs first. While her mother was sick, Y/N had been home alone often and forced to cook. Sheepishly, she admitted she wasn’t any good at it and his grandmother had taken pity on her.

Occasionally, Kenma and the team came over to try her latest creations. They were lucky they weren’t subjected to the daily disasters he was. Once they are fed and watered, Kuroo and her ventured upstairs. His grandfather tossed a wicked look his way as they head toward his room.

Fuku was surprisingly receptive to Y/N and approached her on her own. Usually, Kuroo would need to pick her up first and give her to Y/N.

“Fuku, come on, girl. Don’t you want to eat tuna at home?” Y/N said. Fuku inched closer and then clawed at Y/N’s tights. Surprise and then a bright smile stretched on her face.

She picked up Fuku, cooing all the while the way a mother did with her child. It felt like the ending of a book.

But, Y/N looked happy for the first time she had met him. Not the fake happiness she wore like a mask. He found himself grinning for no good reason, other than she had smiled. While she was distracted, he studied her face committing it to memory. Eyes brighter than the stars, deeper than water, and lined with affection. Going forward, he hoped that she looked like this all the time.

“Y/N, you’re happy, aren’t you?”

“Right now?” She turned and lifted Fuku up into her arms. She softened her expression, crackling with a warm energy. “You make me happy, Kuroo.”

It slowly dawned on him that while he was staring, she had caught his gaze. Lost in his thoughts, he felt no embarrassment, nor did Y/N look upset. It looked more like she was waiting for something.

He wanted to tell her that he liked her—not the way one like a friend, but he liked the way she spoke, every word measured and certain. Or the way she remembered things he had mentioned only once. Or the way she knew what he was asking before he asked her. He liked her calmness, her banter, how she would do anything for the things she loved, and the slight madness that he both encouraged and hated. His words failed him.

Kuroo didn’t want anything to change. If he told her and she rejected him, would their friendship be over? Besides, what could he offer her? Y/N still grieved over her mother. What kind of man would he be to take advantage of that for his own gain?

He closed his eyes for a moment. Y/N sat next to him on the bed and rested her head on his shoulder. Fuku curled up in her arms. Her closeness was the sweetest, bitterest thing he had ever known.

#kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo imagine #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu reader

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gwoongi · 4 years

Text

wordless pt.3

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick au), sugar daddy au, angst rating: mature words: 3.5k warnings: toxic relationships, non graphic sex a/n: im sleepy but hey im also rly glad bts made a statement about the blm movement :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

(21) Sharing your umbrella with them in the rain.

“Yeah, I did, I submitted it on Thursday. What do you mean, did it get a good mark, it’s only Monday.” As you near the front windows of the building, you sigh and stare at the gloomy clouds presented behind the glass. Korea is cold and wet and dark today. “Fuck, rain. Anyway, I’ll call you later, Eunji, okay?”

Eunji agrees and hangs up the phone before you get the chance to, and you’re left in the cool shadow of the largest cloud in the sky. From nine until eleven, you have a morning class on Monday; today, due to request from at least five students confused by the essay title that was due on Friday evening, the class ran for an additional hour and a half, all of the subject material covered with a general extension for the following Fri. Typical, as you rushed it to hand it in before submission.

“Not going home, Y/N?”

You suck your top teeth with disappointment, “Not yet, Professor, I need to make a call.”

The slim professor arrives at your elbow, “Boyfriend?”

“Not really,” you confess. You glance at your phone and find Jeongguk’s number, “but he owes me a few favours here and there, it won’t hurt to bring an umbrella or something.”

“Good luck,” she laughs. She doesn’t offer her umbrella, despite it being tucked under her armpit, and her car is parked in sight close to the windows. At that, she leaves and you send Jeongguk a quick text message. If he’s working presently, the text will annoy him less than a call.

Raining! I’m stuck, can you send some to come and get me?

Jeongguk must be in office, because his reply is speedy. Forget your subway card again?

I never ask for anything, would it hurt you to send someone to get me?

He doesn’t reply for five minutes, and then, Uni, right?

It takes at least fifteen minutes before a vehicle pulls up across the small car-park; it’s a black car, shiny and wet and loud, and you bristle at its entry. Quickly, you hug your coat closer around your body and when you glance back up towards the window, you’re surprised to see Jeongguk himself briskly crossing the lot with an umbrella over his head.

“I’m here to pick up a Y/N L/N, you seen her?” he asks when he reaches the door, smiling as you haul it open and stare at him with happy surprise. “You did not dress for the weather.”

“The app said it would be cloudy,” you huff.

“Baby, it’s January, what did you expect,” Jeongguk sighs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and bringing you closer to his body. Like this, he walks alongside you towards the car and for a moment, he glances around the complex out the corner of his eye. This University isn’t the dog's bollocks, because as much as he’s willing to help fund you at University, he can’t pay for you to be smarter. You’re pretty happy where you are, not being at a big-name University but doing the exact same degree anyways. He’s happy that you’re happy, but if it were him, he’d probably redecorate the front.

(22) Listening to them while they vent.

When Jeongguk vents, he doesn’t just vent. He never sits you down in front of him and lets it all out, nor does he slink away to therapy, or whining over the phone, or sleepy pillow talk where everything feels safer when you’re seconds away from falling asleep.

Instead, Jeongguk fucks away his problems, and as he does it, you tend to get an earful.

“And,” he grunts, one slap, one thrust, “I fucked it up.” One more. “All of it.” Another groan, a deeper push, “Fuck!”

You like to let him get it all out, and on the plus side, you get what you need which is to relieve the pressure of wanting in your stomach. It’s better when he’s angry, better for both of you, and he’s full of apologies when he’s finished, as if he was yelling at you and not at himself.

“Last time I ever work with Taehyung,” he spits. “Fuck. Ugh.”

You’ll ask him about it later.

(23) Taking a picture together to print and hang later.

One night, you’re over at Jeongguk’s. It’s not unusual that you’re here, especially when you’re here so often that his house feels like your own. From the bathroom, the shower runs loudly and Jeongguk sings, mostly to himself, in the water, meanwhile you dance around his kitchen making tea and bringing it to the bedroom where he’ll come in later when he’s done.

His room is golden and warm, and the curtains are drawn but the thin netting softens the sunset outside. You circle around the end of Jeongguk’s bed and set his cup on the bedside table on his side, closest to the window, when you notice something new sitting in a frame by the lamp. Okay, you’ll bite.

You put down both mugs and in exchange pick up the frame. Something warm bubbles inside your stomach as you look down at the frame; the picture, you’ve never seen before, but it’s of you. You remember the photo being taken in Colmar, the time that Jeongguk came to see you to satisfy his own boredom and need. Never did you imagine it would be a photo he’d print, let alone put in a frame next to his bed. It’s a pretty photo, too, with the river behind you and the sun on your skin, your hair only slightly in your face.

Not a perfect photo, but a pretty one. Jeongguk must like it enough to have printed it.

The shower cuts off in the bathroom and you move quickly, protecting an image of innocence as you put the frame back where it once was, and pick up your mug and place it on your bedside table. You’ve placed Jeongguk’s mug so that he could take it both ways. Maybe he’ll think you didn’t see the frame, or maybe he’ll know you did. He must have put it there for a reason, you think, and then you stop thinking when Jeongguk opens the bathroom door and enters the bedroom.

(24) Tracing your names together in the sand.

Jeongguk had a call from Hawaii. It was brief, and you imagine not very pleasant, but he had to go nonetheless. Jeongguk sure as hell wasn’t going to go to Hawaii without you, no matter how dangerous that might be for him. He told you with two hours notice to pack up your shit and meet him at his place. The plane took off three hours later, and Hawaii here you come.

He never liked to be late, or behind schedule, and so the job that needed to be done was done in a record breaking speed. Like always, he’d have some time to kill before needing to flee to avoid the authorities, and when Jeongguk heads back home after the deed is done, he steps into an empty room and his skin runs cold.

“Y/N?” he calls, to no response. He sets down his things and moves around the suite, his eyes darting to every area.

There is a moment where Jeongguk fears for the worst and out of instinct grabs the gun tucked into his belt. He pulls it out in the bedroom but pauses when out of the corner of his eye, he sees a person standing on the beach just outside the window. Jeongguk pauses.

Outside, the sun is warm and burning orange, sinking down into the pretty waves. You could get used to Hawaii, maybe, if you failed at journalism at the end of your degree, or if Jeongguk hurt your feelings enough that you felt living in Korea itself would be too painful to endure.

“Y/N!”

You turn over your shoulder, noticing Jeongguk stepping down from the dunes. He’s still in his suit, a black fit that makes him look slender and tall and absolutely stunning. His hair is still wild and wet and there’s blood on the inside of his blazer, a red that contrasts the white of his shirt. You won’t mention it, because he probably knows already.

“Hey,” you call back.

“It’s- it’s not safe for you to be out here on your own,” he explains, finally by your side. “Fuck, I was worried you’d been kidnapped, or something.”

“Oh, sorry,” you reply. “The sunset was just too pretty.”

Jeongguk sighs with his hands on his hips. “Yeah, it is. Hawaii does sunsets better than Korea, that’s for sure.”

Jeongguk stands next to you and says nothing for a few seconds. The sunset is indeed gorgeous, like something ripped out of a painting from a gallery somewhere fancy and famous. You hum quietly, and jump slightly to the left to grab a large stick off the sand. Jeongguk has to stop himself from smiling as you pick it up, like a kid who pretends the stick is a sword.

“I used to write rude things in the sand for the people in planes who flew past, every single time we went on vacation when I was a kid,” you announce.

Jeongguk laughs, “You were some kid, huh?”

“Maybe you killed the wrong one,” you think, and Jeongguk frowns.

“Can you not bring that up all the time?” You look at him and he frowns deeper, “I know you’re happy about it and stuff, but like...not my proudest moment. Makes me feel sucky.”

“Oh,” you answer. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just a joke.”

He shrugs, “I know. But still.”

You stab the sand with the stick. “I thought maybe it was like, fitting?”

Jeongguk lifts his head to the sky and closes his eyes. “Can’t we have a trip where we just pretend to be in love or something so I don’t feel so shit about the reason why we came here?”

That shuts you up for a moment, and you turn fully to face him as he continues to stare at the sky.

“Like Colmar, maybe,” you press, and he looks down.

“Yeah.”

It sits there for a bit, like you’re genuinely contemplating it, but then you straighten with a little huff and turn to him.

“Seems fair,” you agree.

Jeongguk almost exhales a sigh of relief and he smiles, genuinely, and follows you across the beach. The tide is a little out, the sand damp where the sea once was and like children, you embrace the fun that’s waiting to be had on the shores. Chasing the waves, running from them, staring at cute crabs that scurry across the sand and laughing at the cute kids that drop their ice creams in the water.

Jeongguk takes the stick gently from your hand and points it towards the white sand, pressing the tip against the grains. You smile against his arm as you bend to see what he draws; the stick drags across the sand and outlines a J, and the first initial of your name. Oh, you think, as he closes them inside a heart and stands back to admire his work.

It’s cute, childishly cute, and he looks proud. Jeongguk beams at you for approval and you smile back, happy.

“Photo,” you say and Jeongguk drops to a crouch near the design and poses with the stick. This photo is cute, probably cuter than the one from Colmar. Jeongguk even lets you keep it.

(25) Wearing clothes in their favourite colour.

Jeongguk’s favourite colour was white, and he loved the way a white shirt or a white coat or any white accessory would look on you. Sadistically he’d love you in the white clothes he ruins, seeing you wrap your body in a white shirt dressed with blood. White was his muse, a colour of purity and innocence. Although he always wore black for work, he had to have an admiration for the colour of white, standard paper or milk white.

Jeongguk knows that your favourite colour is green. He can tell by the amount of green plants around your apartment, and the green blankets and pillows and mugs and the unusual amount of green clothing items you have in your wardrobe. He even remembers the tie you bought him once, a Slytherin green that he actually really likes despite his Hogwarts house being Ravenclaw.

You’ve never actually seen him wear the tie, not until today when Jeongguk makes a quick stop by your apartment as he heads back to the office. He steps inside with a brown bag filled with bagels and he kisses your forehead by the front door and hands them to you. You see the tie and smile; Jeongguk sure as hell looks great in your favourite colour.

(26) Doing a chore for them that you know they aren’t fond of.

You’re lucky that you never really came across Elio, never once when you were at Jeongguk’s home. You had assumed that Elio was sleeping, or elsewhere on days you visited or nights you slept over. To your surprise and perhaps horror, you discovered that Elio had been there all along, just disinterested in coming out to see you from the few rooms that Jeongguk converted into his own personal habitat.

“You just had him here all this time?” you screech quietly, running back into the bedroom after seeing Elio on the couch. “What the fuck.”

“He’s harmless,” Jeongguk shrugs. “He’s not interested in a human diet right now.”

“Right now? That’s not comforting,” you reply. “I’m happy to go through all your shitty paperwork for you, it’s something I actually enjoy, but can you please go out and get them for me?”

Jeongguk cocks his head to the side, “why, can’t find them?”

“They’re in the living room, on the table,” you explain, peering back out, “but Elio’s on the couch.”

He laughs, rising, “He’s not gonna even touch you.”

“He might.”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that!”

“No, but he doesn’t hurt me, so he won’t hurt you.”

You gape. “What? He’s your pet, of course he won’t hurt you. He trusts you. He doesn’t even know me.”

Jeongguk sighs loudly and ruffles your hair as he crosses your path. “Whatever. You’re such a fuckin pussy,” then he kisses your neck and heads out into the living room. You quiver by the doorway as he moves without a flinch towards Elio.

The giant cat picks his head up off the couch and yawns in Jeongguk’s direction, his tail swooshing prettily over the side of the couch. His black fur blends into the blanket he lies on and as he blinks slowly, Jeongguk reaches to pet his head and behind his ears. Elio basks in the love, pressing his head further into Jeongguk’s palm, oddly dog-like. Jeongguk spends a few more moments with his beloved exotic and then finally, like he’s reluctant to, picks up the large and messy stack of papers and then walks back towards the bedroom with a smug expression. Elio’s head falls back to sleep.

“Touch me, check I’m still alive after my dangerous encounter,” Jeongguk says, bringing the papers into the room and dropping them on the bed.

“Shut up,” you huff.

(27) Leaving a plate of food in the microwave for when they have a late shift.

A call from Eunji at eight in the evening destroys all the plans you had set in place. Jeongguk had been called to meet with one of the founders of the South Korean Continental, and wouldn’t be back until around nine. You had prepped an entire meal, sitting ready on the side for when he got home.

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t absolutely important,” Eunji apologises, sounding flustered on the line, “I just. I didn’t know who else to call. I went back to the library, I think I got rid of him, but he was definitely following me from the restaurant. Fuck, Y/N, it was so scary.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m glad you called me,” you assure her, already putting your shoes on, “I can’t believe he showed up again. Didn’t he get put in jail?”

Eunji hums like she’s not convinced, “Out on bail, eighty kay.”

“Fuck. Do you, uh,” you start, thinking of if it’s okay to say, “want me to call someone else?” Jeongguk?

Eunji is one of the only people alive who knows about Jeongguk. She had been your best friend since you were seven, and was one of the only people who remained by your side after Jeongguk had your brother executed, and after you decided to become Jeongguk’s little play thing for a few weeks until he lost control and kept you around. Eunji’s no stranger to his antics, and if you warped the story a little, Jeongguk would have no issues with sorting the problem at hand.

“No, no, don’t,” Eunji begs. “He’ll take it too far. People will point fingers at me. Can you just come and get me?”

“Of course,” you tell her. “We’ll go back to mine, I can see Jeongguk whenever.”

Eunji exhales in relief, “I love you, you know that? You’re the best friend ever.”

You hang up a few minutes later and stare sadly at the meal. But it can’t be helped. Jeongguk’s bailed on you a thousand times for his colleagues. He wouldn’t mind, after a few hours of thinking about it. You sigh with repent and move the food towards the microwave.

Rescuing Eunji. Call me, I can come back tomorrow. Please eat.

Jeongguk finds the note when he gets home and scrunches it into a ball in the bin.

He eats alone, in silence, the other side of the table still prepped for another person.

(28) Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

“Enjoy the movie!”

“Thanks.”

Jeongguk takes the two tickets from the vender and steers you towards the corridor that leads to the rooms. On this rare occasion, Jeongguk has decided to court you. Quite literally, Jeongguk had called you up and asked if you wanted to go on a date, or something, because he was bored and liked you most, and he knows there’s a movie you’ve been wanting to see.

“Are you sure you wanna watch it with me?” you ask him, even though he’s already got the tickets and is walking next to you.

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“I just didn’t think you were a cinema kind of person,” you confess.

Jeongguk hums, “To be honest, I’m not. But this movie looks good, and you wanna see it, and how often do we do things that you wanna do?”

It’s true.

The cinema room is dark and empty, since you’re both early to begin with. As always, it’s a little bit sticky and smelly, and Jeongguk pushes you towards the back row because it is inarguably the best place to sit in the cinema. You set down the large drink in between you both, two straws poking out in each of your directions.

“It’s great this movie is showing here,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, well the LGBT plus movement is really popular now, people are a lot more accepting of it,” Jeongguk states. “I mean, look at how well The Handmaiden did.”

You nod, “great movie.”

“It is,” he agrees. A few minutes later and the lights dim significantly, the movie is probably about to start. Jeongguk leans to the left a little and sips from the drink.

(29) Tucking their hair behind their ear to help them get it out of their face.

Uni’s tough, nobody said it wasn’t. Jeongguk doesn’t really understand this, since he never went to University. He brings a mug of tea from the kitchen to his bedroom where you’re sitting cross-legged staring at a laptop, setting it to the side and sitting just behind you but to your side, watching you closely.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what,” you mutter dimly.

“Overworking yourself,” Jeongguk replies, “I can see your brain fucking pulsing against your skull.”

You sigh loudly. “I can’t do this. Why did I enroll in University? I should have just put it all away after high school and become a trophy wife.”

Jeongguk’s brows furrow. “You can still be a trophy wife, you’ll just be a smart one.”

You look at him. “I’m not smart enough for this.”

For a while, Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, and he just sits listening to you. As you vent, and open up about how hard it is to do this damn degree, Jeongguk watches your face and your body and uses his fingers to gently tuck the hair that falls in front of your face behind your ear. The passion that pours out of you when you’re frustrated is an unspoken beauty that you’re not even aware of, and Jeongguk eats it up.

He does what he can to put you at ease, because things he says in encouragement are things you already know anyway. Like all humans, all you need is a little bit of love, and Jeongguk’s happy to give it if it means you’re happy with him.

(30) Helping scratch that itch on their back they can’t reach.

“Can’t reach. Baby, scratch my back for me?”

You cringe away from the TV, “what the fuck am I? Your maid?”

“Please?”

You sigh. “Where’s it itching?”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“You don’t pay me enough for this.”

“I don’t pay you at all.”

Sigh. “Exactly.”

#wrote this watching high society its a bad movie dont watch it #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jeongguk scenario #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeongguk #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts mafia au #sugar daddy au #wordless

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joontopia · 4 years

Text

Underneath the Ginkgo Tree | KNJ - Teaser

pairings: namjoon x female reader

rating: nsfw, 18+

genre: slight time travel!au, soulmate(if you squint)!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, influenced by the movie The Lake House

series warnings: angst, fluff, pining, language, mentions of death, major character death, talks of mental health, description of hospital scenes, description of car accidents (more warnings will come with each chapter)

teaser warnings: a couple of dashes of angst, slight pining, language? (did i write curse words in this? probably idk) mention of a break up, talks of feeling lost

teaser word count: 2.9k

series release: 1st qtr 2021

a/n: thank you to my twin and soulmate, @escapingreality4now for reading over this and fixing my mistakes. thank you for always being so enthusiastic about all of the random ideas that I have and start to work on (even when it brings me away from the one WIP you’ve been waiting on an update for hehehe). I love you!

The lone ginkgo tree stood out among the others that were outlining the small clearing. It looks absolutely beautiful the way the golden leaves contrast to the dark green around them. It seemed almost magical and you silently scold yourself for leaving your camera back at the studio. You walk across the grass clearing towards the ginkgo tree, examining it along the way. As you get closer, you notice carvings in the wide base of the tree in the shape of a small door, looking to be about a foot tall and half a foot wide.

“How cute,” you mutter to yourself, crouching down to examine the door further. Placing your backpack up against the tree, you notice a small hoop attached to the door, the opening of the ring just big enough for you to hook two fingers. You pull on the hoop, letting out a small gasp of excitement as the door gives way, revealing a hollow opening in the tree. You peak through the doorway, seeing nothing but dried leaves and small sticks. A slight breeze blows past you as you start to close the door, moving around the contents inside the hollowed out trunk. The door was almost half way closed when something caught your eye.

You peak back into the small room, noticing something long and light blue under the rearranged foliage. You look around the hollowed trunk, making sure there’s no hidden creature that could jump out and bite you. “Oh God, please don’t let there be a snake,” you think to yourself as you reach in to retrieve the mystery item. Snatching your arm back, you let out a small breath and chuckle at yourself for the small overreaction.

“An envelope?” you say out loud, looking at the newly retrieved item in your hand. You flip it over while observing it, noticing that it's sealed with nothing written on the front.

“I wonder if anything’s in it,” you mumble to yourself. You reposition yourself with your back up against the trunk of the tree, opening the envelope as you get settled. The paper tears easily and you guess that it must be old. Finally getting the envelope wide enough, you pull out a piece of paper, unfolding it carefully to make sure not to tear it. You were happy to see the writing was still legible with only some minor smudges and dirt marks spread across the page. Noticing a small date at the top, you squint as you bring the paper closer to read, only able to make out a faint 2018 as the rest of the date was ruined by the dirt.

“Two years ago… Wow.” You pull the paper back, taking a quick look around the small meadow before you start to read.

Dear future me,

I hope when you open this letter, it finds you well. Maybe you finally asked out that cute girl in your Art History class. Or maybe, at the very least, grew a pair to introduce yourself to her properly. Anyways, I’m not writing this to give you a hard time. We’re dealing with enough of that as it is. I’m just hoping that writing this will be something to help me gain some motivation. Give me a sense of purpose. Things just feel stagnant lately. I’m in the middle of my Senior year of university and have no idea what I’m going to do once I graduate. Everyone around me seems to have everything planned out and I’m just… here. I’m hoping when you finally read this again, you’ll have found your path. I promise to try my best on my end to get you there.

Starting with Art History girl. Hopefully she likes nature walks or hikes. I would love to take her to this old ginkgo tree for a picnic. So let’s work on step #1. Figure out how to simply walk up to her without falling flat on your face.

This is hopeless. Sending you luck and well wishes from the past. - Joon

You flip the page around to see if there was anything only to be met with a blank back.

“I wonder if he ever came back to read this,” you think out loud. Taking a look around the base of the tree, it seems like this place has been unbothered for quite some time. You assume so, anyways, especially with how covered the letter was when you found it. You continue to sit there against the tree, looking out into the small clearing. “Maybe I should write a letter back.”

You feel a slight gust of wind, closing your eyes as you appreciate the soft chill kiss your face and the beautiful sound of the rustling leaves of the ginkgo tree. “I’m guessing I should take that as a yes,” you say with a giggle. The tiny laugh is cut short as you let out a small scoff and shake your head.

“Great. I don’t know what's worse; me talking to myself or to the wind,” you grumble as you reach into your backpack, pulling out a notebook and pen, flipping to a blank page. “Okay, well here goes nothing.”

You sat at the base of the ginkgo tree writing out your letter back to this Joon. Constantly erasing and rewriting half of it, feeling like you were getting too deep and personal with your reply. It wasn’t until the third revision that you finally told yourself that it didn’t matter. No one was going to find it and read it anyways. Once complete, you reach back into your bag, pulling out a yellow envelope meant for holding photos. You check to make sure it’s empty before stuffing your letter inside and sealing it. You place the envelope inside the hollow base of the tree and close the door.

Standing up, you brush the leaves and dirt off your knees, backside, and hands. Not quite ready to leave your newly found secret hideaway, you look around the area, eyeing many rocks of different shapes and sizes. Most of them being just the right size for making a rock tower. You check your watch for the time, mentally calculating just how much time you have before you need to be back at the studio. “5 minutes until noon. Just one tower, one wish, and then I’ll head back to the real world. Sound good?” you said out loud, looking up at the ginkgo tree. A small breeze picks back up as you start to search for the perfect rocks. The wind softly blows through the leaves as if it were trying to give you a response.

The sun sits high in the sky as Namjoon treks down the now familiar path as the wind blows softly around him. The trees and bushes make the most comforting sounds as their branches and leaves rub together through the breeze. He looks down at the blue envelope in his hand before checking the time on his watch. 5 minutes until noon. He’s out here earlier than usual. A bittersweet surprise due to his class being canceled. The very class where he was finally going to talk to the pretty girl who sat by the window. Or at the very least, sit right next to her awkwardly while not saying anything at all. He hadn’t planned on writing another letter, but with the surge of motivation the last one had left him, he felt like it wouldn’t hurt to do it again.

Namjoon readjusts the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder as he enters the small hidden meadow. His eyes and lips turn up into a small smile as he looks at the lone ginkgo tree. “Hello, old friend,” he says as he approaches the base of the tree. The branches and leaves sway in the wind as if giving their own greeting back. Namjoon looks around at the empty meadow before placing his bag on the ground and kneeling before the small wooden door.

“I’m not here for long, friend,” he says as he looks up at the tree. “Just dropping off another.” Namjoon reaches for the small loop to open the door. Blue envelope in hand, he reaches in to place the letter inside, pausing when he sees something he didn't expect. There in the middle of the hollow trunk sat a clean, yellow envelope, seemingly untouched by the nature around it.

“I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place,” Namjoon mumbles to himself. He grabs the envelope from the opening, eyes going wide in a small moment of panic as he realizes his previous letter is no longer there. He lets out a low groan. “Oh no, someone read my letter.”

He hits his head with his palm, looking at the stranger’s envelope in his hand “Should I read it? They wouldn’t respond with their own letter just to laugh at me, right?” he thinks to himself. Namjoon looks around before adjusting himself to lean against the wide tree trunk. He opens the envelope, pulling out the letter. The faint scent of a female’s perfume follows, hitting Namjoon’s senses as he breathes it in. Appreciating the lovely scent while also finding it oddly familiar, but he just can’t place it. He takes a look at the letter and shrugs his shoulders. “Well I guess fair’s fair,” he mumbles to himself again as he begins to read the mystery letter.

Dear Joon,

I hope you don’t mind that I read your letter. It seemed to have been left untouched for sometime. I felt the least I could do is write back, even if you don’t ever return to this place. I would like to apologize in advance for using your letter as my own little outlet to vent. I’m sure there’s more interesting things you would like to know about the future if you were to ever find this. Not much has changed in the two years since your letter. The world is still a big mystery where people still feel lost. Myself included. I hope that’s not too discouraging. It’s normal to experience a sense of mispurpose and self doubt in college. Everyone feels lost at least once in their lives. Even if they felt like they had everything planned and figured out. The universe doesn’t make exceptions in that affair.

If you did figure a way out of your stump, let a girl know. I could use some words of wisdom myself. My boyfriend of almost two years broke up with me not too long ago. On White Day, if you can believe it. We started dating my senior year of university and I thought we were on the same page as far as our future together was concerned. But there I was, sitting on a bench in Yongsan Park, thinking I was about to be proposed to and end up getting dumped instead. He always talked about marriage, but I guess people tend to just change their minds.

But here’s the real kicker… my feeling of being lost isn’t from the heartbreak. I wish it were that simple. I'm feeling lost because when he broke up with me and ended almost two years of us, I didn’t feel sad. I felt relieved. Who in their right mind feels relief when the person they thought they were going to spend their life with breaks up with them? I don't know. Maybe love just isn't for me.

Anyways, that was a long drawn out way of saying, don’t place your sense of purpose on a relationship, let alone another person. People will only let you down. That being said, if Art History Girl doesn’t enjoy nature walks or picnics, she’s not the one. It sounds like the perfect date. - Y/N 2♥2♥

Namjoon reads the last couple of lines over again, smirking as he traces the small hearts you drew in place of the zeros of the year by your name. “Cute,” he mumbles to himself as he places your letter on the ground next to him, digging into his bag for his notebook and a pen. He quickly scribbles out a response, grabbing the blue envelope he brought and discarding his unread letter from it. Replacing it with the new one he just wrote. Namjoon sticks the now sealed envelope and letter into the holy trunk, closing the door before checking his watch again. Almost 12:35 PM.

“I guess I have time to eat lunch here.” Namjoon reaches back into his bag, pulling out the carefully wrapped sandwich his roommate made him this morning. After finishing his meal, he leans back against the tree, closing his eyes, enjoying the occasional breeze as the time passes. Deciding he spent enough time hiding from the real world, Namjoon stands from his spot against the tree, grabbing his bag in the process. He takes a quick glance at the small door, eyebrows furrowing as he does a double take, noticing the door is slightly ajar. “Didn’t I close this?” he thought to himself as he kneels back down in front of the door, opening it wider to see if anything was keeping it from closing all the way.

“What the hell?!” Namjoon exclaims as his eyes widen at the sight of another yellow envelope lying in the middle of the hollow trunk. His blue envelope, once again, nowhere to be seen.

You take a step back from your newly built structure, admiring your handiwork. You decided to build the little rock tower at the base of the tree, right in front of the little door. You tell yourself it’s to discourage any newcomers from opening the door, but you know it's just to discourage yourself from retrieving your letter.

“Okay, Y/N, now make a wish.” You close your eyes and bow your head by the rock tower. Searching your mind for the perfect wish, you finally land on the right words. Please let me be wrong about love. Please let it find me in this lifetime. You let out a deep breath as you open your eyes. Grabbing your bag off the ground, you take one more look up at the ginkgo tree before starting back towards the walking trail.

“I hope I’m able to find this place again,” you whisper to yourself as you take a few steps away from the tree. You’re only halfway across the small meadow when the sound of a snapping twig stops you in your track, causing you to turn around, looking for the source of the noise.

“Hello?” You call out as you look around the seemingly empty meadow. Finding nothing, you turn back around towards the walking trail. “The woods make noises, Y/N. Nothing to freak out about,” you mumble to yourself.

You barely take another step when you hear the sound of rocks falling behind you. You quickly turn around, hoping to catch whatever person or woodland creature that could be causing these disturbances only to find that you’re still alone in the meadow. You take a quick scan of the area before your eyes move straight to your rock tower at the base of the ginkgo tree. Or at least what used to be your rock tower. What resides there now is just a pile of rocks. The sight of your fallen tower alone isn’t enough to put you on edge. Rocks fall. You just didn’t expect to see the previously closed door at the base of the tree to now be wide open.

You take slow steps back towards the tree, scanning the surroundings again for anyone or anything hiding in the tree line. Telling yourself that it was just the wind as you make it back to the tree, you kneel down to close back the little door. Your movements halt when you sneak a peek inside the hollow trunk, your eyes landing on what should have been the yellow envelope you just left inside. Instead, in its place, you find another blue envelope. You snatch the envelope from the hollow trunk, tearing it open with so much force that you wouldn’t be surprised if you ripped the letter inside. You pulled the letter from the envelope and began to read.

Dear Y/N,

Thank you for writing me back. I’m going to be honest, I'm a little surprised to have found your letter. I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place, considering it's off a hidden path that's found off another hidden path. But I’m happy someone else gets to enjoy the beauty of this hidden gem of a meadow. Thank you for your kind words. It’s nice to know there are people out there who care enough to try and comfort a stranger. I’m sorry to read about your breakup. Those are never easy, regardless of the tenure of the relationship. I hope you don’t feel too troubled by your feelings around it. It could just be a blessing in disguise. Sometimes you have to close one door for another to open. I believe there is someone for everyone and they will find you when you least expect it. So if you return here to find this letter, don’t give up. Love will find you. I promise. - Joon

P.S. Thanks for the little 2020 joke. Got quite a chuckle out of that one. Maybe we’ll see each other at this ol’ ginkgo tree some day. You know, in the current year of 2018.

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btsbookclub #bangtanedu #kim namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon imagine #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #fic; UTGT

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

Text

How Day6 would comfort you when you come home crying

warnings: some foul language

an: i was informed about how little day6 content there was (ty @justcuz-ican), so here is more these are written for people who prefer physical active comfort rather than being left alone when upset, so i may write a set of reactions for people who are the other way round

all members under the cut :)

Sungjin

he may not be used to openly discussing feelings but that does not mean he doesn’t care

he loves you so much and so dearly that seeing you cry will wreck him

i have no doubts he would drop everything for you if the time called for it

he’s a very good listener, and will remain quiet if you need to vent

he is a fixer, and so when you explain what happened, and if you want help, he will do his damn best to make it all ok again

will 100% sort it for you all by himself (if you don’t want him to, you might want to, like... stop him before he does real quick)

he’s very loyal ok so will take your side no matter what

when it comes to comfort it would depend on how long you’ve been together for

if it’s still early days (by his standards), he will try his best to offer verbal support, and then help you continue with your day to the best of both of your ability

however if you’ve been together for a long while

so long that no one, including yourselves, can see yourself with anyone else

he will be a lot more affectionate on top of the above

that’s when you know that you’ve caught his heart without a catch or caveat

will hold you close in a simple but in no way inferior embrace

and trust me, sungjin hugs are phenomenal

and so these are no different

he’s just so soft, you would be so warm and secure in his arms, sobs gradually coming to a stop as your tears dried upon his shirt

i have a lot of feels for sungjin ok

Jae

cuddles + distraction king

will send little messages of support throughout the day if you choose/are able to text him about how bad things are going

as soon as you come home he will take you into his arms

will dry your tears with his fingers as best he can

seeing you upset has the capability to make him very nearly cry too, depending on what it is and how bad (and his day too)

will take the two of you to somewhere comfortable

whether it be sofa or bed or wherever, just somewhere close and safe

he gets it, you need the security

will settle you into his lap and that’s it, that’s your home now

strokes your hair and will speak no louder than a murmur for you

if you want to talk about it, he will listen and comment where he can

lots of verbal support

won’t leave your side until you stop crying, no joke

if/when you need distracting, those movies are going on bois

or he will play a video game if you’d prefer something different

is not above deliberately being bad and making stupid commentary to make you laugh

by the end the sadness will feel like it happened in another time

jae is just that good

Younghyun

will not stop fawning over you

he’s affectionate anyway

so when he sees you upset he tries to give you as much of it as possible

back rubs, cuddles, forehead and cheek kisses, the full lot

so gentle

so good to vent to because his advice is really sound

he doesn’t want to leave your side, but will make exceptions

and so will bring you pretty much anything and everything to try and make it better

from tissues to snacks to his special hoodies you name it

once you stop crying, your treatment doesn’t stop there

nope, sorry, that’s not how kang younghyun rolls

on the day he will make you food, yes

and then he will coax you into sleep (probably spooning or with your head on his chest, he likes that)

then the next time you’re together, prepare yourself

as even if your day has been fine and all your problems are sorted, he’s taking you out to a lovely restaurant

or taking you shopping and buying the shit you saw in the shop window and didn’t buy for frankly no good reason

he wants the week to balance out at the very least

because he may not be able to fix the actual problems that made you upset, but in a way he can make it up to you

even though its 90% of the time never his fault

overall, get yourself a youngk yall

Wonpil

my babie is a sensitive soul

im not saying he’s going to weep with you when you come home after your god awful day

but will he tear up?

yes

he’s a bit of an emotion sponge i get that and seeing you hurt just rubs onto him

doesn’t know what to do really, so may flounder slightly at times

he’s used to you being quite the rock

but he’s an affection king so prepare to be smothered because he isn’t changing now

will be 100x more gentle though

if that’s possible

...yeah it’s possible

cups your cheeks so carefully as if you’re made of glass

he’ll catch your tears on the corners of his sleeves

and then will proceed to do and give you everything that makes him feel better when he’s upset

so his plushie, his blankets, his food, the lot

and then will make it a special night for you

meaning, the softest night in you could imagine

understands you the best, and will say the right thing at the right time

loyal once again, so will always take your side too

and will hold a grudge

even if the problems are sorted the very next day, if a person caused them, he will not trust them until they give him a good reason to like... ever again lol

even if you insist that they’re not as bad anymore

they’ll just be known as ‘the prick that made y/n cry’ and will get glares from him if they see him in the street

of course if they apologise and prove that they’ve improved then he’s back to being a sunshine

mostly

honestly i think wonpil could be strangely threatening if he really, really wanted to be

tho tbh i am biased bc if i disappointed him once i would cry on the spot so idk

Dowoon

sweet babe

wouldn’t quite know what to do at first

especially if it’s still early days in your relationship

not amazing at talking but will try his hardest

same applies for physical comfort

you may have to initiate if it’s the very first time if you want a hug sorry

but he will learn quickly

and will go from holding you close and secure while quietly listening to you vent

to recognising something is wrong by your text aura alone

and preparing things if he can for when you get home

would make a small pillow fort for you ngl

i then see him making small changes to his behaviour that mean big things

so yes, when your relationship is strong and stable, he will cradle you just how you like

and no kidding his back rubs are really comforting

but for the rest of the week he will be super careful

and so will take on a few more chores despite the fair distribution you have going so far

when walking together in public he will normally hold your hand, but for the few days after he will actually put an arm around you instead

and when at home he’ll definitely sit a lot closer to you

going out of his way to work in the same room or a seat closer to you despite being already set up elsewhere

small text messages throughout the day checking if everything is fine, and if any people that caused you issues have done anything else

he remembers you see

he’ll probably return to his slightly shy and normal self after but it doesn’t mean you’re not important to him

after all, i can see him growing used to moving to join you when you come home, and so that may become a common occurrence once he is sure you want that too

overall, a caring boyfriend, just in a more subtle way

~~~

an: i feel this isnt as put together as my others but i hope its still legible and worthwhile

masterlist

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hollyxqx · 4 years

Text

LOVER, LEAVER // JIMIN // 05

↪ PAIRING: Reader/Park Jimin (initially reader/Jungkook) ↪ SUMMARY: There’s only so much cheating you can take from your boyfriend when he’s on tour before you take matters in to your own hands. ↪ WORD COUNT: 8.3k

↪ WARNINGS: mentions of addiction/drugs, alcohol abuse, there’s FLUFF people can you believe it, jimin is a slight rich bitch in this lol, a baby is born, slight smut

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | FINAL

Jimin very kindly and patiently lets you vent your concerns about Jungkook to him. You know you're rambling, you know it's not Jimin's duty to listen to fret over your ex-boyfriend but he does anyway, and without complaint. Jimin merely holds you tightly, nodding and offering encouraging agreement when needed. He cares about Jungkook too and you know your worries are shared.

Your eyes spill with tears and he wipes them away without question. How are you so lucky to have someone as understanding as him? Jimin doesn't protest or tell you to stop; instead he tells you he appreciates how compassionate you are. When you're finished with your tirade you thank him over and over again until he shushes you with a kiss.

The sofa you're curled up on with him creaks as he stands, reluctantly pulling away from you. He returns after a few moments with some tea for you both and it's so kind it makes your heart ache. You accept it from him with a mumbled thank you.

Taehyung, a former stranger turned roommate of three days, enters your apartment as you set your cup back down. Jimin peers over his shoulder as Taehyung removes his outdoor clothing and shoes. He stiffens beside you. The arrangement is still new and you can sense there is something going on inside Jimin's head. Taehyung waves and shouts hello to you both upon seeing on the sofa before disappearing inside the kitchen.

Taehyung is a video editor for a local news station and works absurd hours, you've noticed. In the short time you've lived together your paths have only crossed a handful of times.

You return his greeting with feigned cheerfulness and look back to Jimin, his lips press together in a stern line. "What?" You ask, sensing his hesitancy. To your confusion, he looks uncomfortable.

"Nothing." He shakes his head dismissively and looks away. His own tea is still untouched.

"Wanna stay over tonight?" You ask after another sip of tea. Jimin nods, eyes anywhere but you.

Jimin heads straight for your bedroom after that, obviously expecting you to follow. It's late and he wants to retire to bed you assume. However you head in to the kitchen to catch up with your new house mate. Taehyung is nice, thoughtful and so far, a good person to share a living space with. Although the only other boy you've ever lived with was Jungkook so you don't have much room for comparison.

"How was work?" You ask casually, leaning against the doorframe. Taehyung eats like a horse and he's already biting into a cereal bar whilst stacking a mountain of ingredients atop the counter.

"Good!" He mumbles, catching some of the food that spills out of his mouth as he tries to smile. He swallows. "How are you?"

"Fine. Jimin's here by the way. Do you mind if he stays overnight?" You ask. Jimin has never stayed over while Taehyung has been home and you don't want to be disrespectful.

"He's your boyfriend of course not." Taehyung shrugs, kicking the fridge shut with his foot. You eye his potential meal and wonder how he remains so slim. He must work out a ton. "I've got noise cancelling headphones." He flashes you a boxy grin over his shoulder as he begins to prep his food.

"He's not my - He's not..." You stammer quietly, blushing at the comment. Jimin and you have made nothing official. If Taehyung senses your awkwardness he says nothing. "We're not animals Taehyung, we'll be quiet. I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Appreciate it, roomie. You guys heading to bed? Can I watch the big TV?" He asks.

"It's all yours roomie." You laugh a little. "Goodnight."

Taehyung bids you goodnight and you head to your own bedroom, where Jimin is waiting. When you enter inside he's standing with his back to you, shirtless as he undoes his belt. The sound of the door opening he doesn't even turn to face you, merely continues getting ready for bed.

"Just wanted to let Tae know you're spending the night." You murmur as you pace over, ghosting a gentle hand against his skin.

"Oh, ok." He responds quietly.

"I'm working tomorrow, so we're going to have to get up early." You sigh.

"That's fine."

"Can I wear this to bed?" You ask hopefully, picking up Jimin's discarded tee. It smells like his cologne, it's comforting. He nods. You notice he's still acting rather stiff and unusual but you're not sure why. "Thanks Jiminie."

He slips under the duvet first, while you crawl in behind him, wearing nothing but his shirt and a thong. He lies on his back, one arm behind his head. You reach across him to flick the bedside lamp off. Even in the moonlight you can see a worried expression twisting his beautiful features.

"There's something on your mind." You state, just above a whisper. You rest your head against his warm chest and loosely throw and arm across his waist. Normally he'd nuzzle into you but his position remains unchanged.

"It's nothing." You're not sure if he even convinces himself, voice thick and quiet, something heavy underlying his words.

"You can talk to me, about anything." You assure. There's a palpable tension weighing in the room as Jimin hesitates. You can feel the tension in his body, muscles constricting slightly underneath you. He inhales as if he's about to speak but lets out a long breath instead. "Is it Jungkook? Have I been going on too much about him?"

"No." Jimin is quick to firmly interject. "No." He repeats, softer. "It's Taehyung."

Surely you hear him incorrectly. "Taehyung?" You repeat incredulously, propping yourself up to see his face, hoping this is some kind of joke. It's so absurd you almost want to laugh.

He looks at you with a frown. "Yes. It's stupid. It's nothing. Nevermind."

You soften at his words. "Your feelings are not nothing to me, Jimin."

He runs a distressed hand through his long locks. "I'm being jealous and irrational. I hate it."

"Of Taehyung? Why does Tae of all people make you jealous? I just sat and cried about my ex boyfriend to you!" You tease, hoping to at least coax a little smile from him. It doesn't work.

"Well, look how me and you got started..." He trails off, almost if he knows how awful that thought is to voice aloud.

"Jimin," You're wounded, a visceral sting within your ribcage. "Don't throw that in my face. That's not fair."

“I’m sorry! That came out weird.” He groans, frustrated at the sight of your hurt expression.

“You don’t trust me.” You point out.

He shakes his head. “I do. I told you I’m being irrational.”

“Then what’s the big deal with Taehyung?! Tell me and I can make you feel better. There is literally zero reason to feel jealousy towards my roommate.”

He seems reluctant to explain, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes locked with yours. “I know how this story ends.” He sighs. You raise a brow at him. “He’s a nice guy, you’re a nice girl. You’ll get really close, you’ll hang out all the time since you live together, then one day you and I will have a big argument, and who will be around to pick up the pieces? Taehyung.”

“- Jimin,”

“ - Who are you going to bitch about me to when you’re mad? Taehyung. He’s single right? What will stop him from making a move on you? And if you’re mad at me you might let him. Look what happened with -” He cuts himself short but you both know the word ‘Jungkook’ was about to slip out.

He looks away guiltily.

You nod quietly absorbing the information. It’s understandable, albeit borderline crazy, that Jimin feels this way. He’s not perfect, he has insecurities like everyone else but there’s two things you have gathered from this conversation. One; Jimin is a lot more sensitive than you first thought and two; he isn’t as easy going about Jungkook as he appears.

“I understand why you would think that.” You want to be assuring but your voice sounds so small. You know there is no real defence for your infidelity. Jimin looks worried, anticipating what you’ll say next. “I do think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, I’ll be honest.”

“I know. I’m just scared.” He admits.

That takes you by surprise. “Scared of what?”

“Of losing you. Again.”

“Again?”

“This is so embarrassing,” He laughs a little but it’s humourless. “All I do is make myself look more pathetic huh? It’s no secret I’ve liked you since the day we met.”

“That doesn’t make you pathetic, jiminie.” You squeeze his hand affectionately. “It’s sweet.”

“But I’d lost you to Kook, and then when I finally had you, even though it wasn’t how I imagined, you told me you didn’t want me.”

“That’s not strictly true.” You chastise.

“You know what I mean.” He reaches out to cup your face, a delicate thumb rests on the apples of your cheek. “Things are going well now. I don’t want a repeat of history.”

“I would never do anything behind your back. You’re not Jungkook, and I’m not that person anymore.” Your words are firm, because they’re true and you mean them wholeheartedly.

“If you’re not happy. Ever, about anything, tell me.” Jimin murmurs as he pulls you close for a kiss.

“I promise I will. It’s different this time,” You whisper against his lips.

***

From: Kim Namjoon Hoseok found Jungkook. He’s fine, unhurt, just drunk and kind of emotional. He’s holing up @ Hoseok’s place until the trial date.

No news is definitely not good news when it comes to Jungkook, so even though this information is hard to hear you’re glad he is at least safe. Hoseok has always been the most responsible one out of Jungkook’s circle of friends. You know he’s likely there against his will but maybe thats for the best.

From: Y/N Thank you for letting me know. Namjoon be really careful, he’s probably going to be having withdrawal. He’s been shooting up. I don’t know what but keep his phone away from him and make sure Hoseok has his doctor’s number.

From: Kim Namjoon I know. I noticed the track marks too. Ill tell hoeseok and keep you updated.

Your head is pounding as you flop back against the pillow, tossing your phone somewhere on the bed. Jimin is sleeping soundly beside you and you wish to join him again but you know your alarm is going to ring in thirty minutes anyway. You doubt you’d get much rest in that time.

The early hours of the morning are always where you do your best overthinking. You wonder if Jungkook would have ended up on this path if it wasn’t for you. It’s likely. Maybe you just accelerated it. Maybe his lifestyle is the real culprit here. Maybe it was his fate all along.

As you stare blankly into the blue early morning hue of the room all you can hope is that this will be a turning point for everyone, especially Jungkook.

***

It’s on what you anticipate to be a regular boring Thursday when you receive two shocking pieces of news, almost within a few minutes of one another.

Firstly, the most recent job interview you had attended (for a role that seemed too good to be true, but Jimin convinced you to go anyway and on shaky, unprepared legs you went.) had left a very eager voicemail for you while you’d been waiting tables. Your hands shook as you played and replayed the message. You almost thought you were imagining the praise they were giving you.

They wanted you. Not for the role you initially applied for but as an assistant to one of their mid level designers. It was probably better for you anyway and you returned the call to accept the offer immediately.

The second call comes from Namjoon of all people and it’s with your heart thundering in your chest you answer, fearing the worst.

His voice is equal parts breathless and terrified, as if he’s walking very quickly somewhere. After getting him to slow down eventually you’re able to understand the message he’s trying to convey. Hyerin is in labour. It’s still a week and a half before her due date so the news definitely comes as a surprise.

You let out a long sigh of relief. It’s happy news.

He informs you that it’s still early stages, they’re at the hospital however so you know the baby is going to be here soon. It feels surreal and you’re not even the person who is going to be a parent in a few hours. Namjoon promises to call you as soon as he can (Hyerin’s request) and you shoo him off the phone so you can call Jimin.

“It’s been a wild day and it’s not even lunchtime yet.” Jimin laughs once you relay the news. “I’m so happy for you butterfly. You’ve worked so hard.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face at his sincerity. “Wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.” And that’s the truth.

***

Jimin arranges a celebratory dinner in your honour later that evening. He implores you to wear something nice and you can hear the glint of mischief in his voice. “Promise me nothing too upmarket or expensive Jimin.” You warn but he just laughs and assures you be ready for him to pick you up later.

You slip on a nice dress that’s slit dangerously high up on your thigh and some heels, a lot more chic than you normally would wear for a date with Jimin. His initial reaction when you swing open the front door makes you feel beautiful.

He looks dapper himself, dressed in an extremely well tailored suit, the top few buttons exposing the jewellery around his neck. He looks every bit the successful artist he is.

Several times in the car you ask him where he’s taking you but Jimin remains coy and cryptic, shushing you with a knowing smile. You’re paying attention to the route he’s taking but you’re unfamiliar with the area you’re in. Eventually the car comes to a stop in front of a high end japanese restaurant.

“Huh.” You hum, eyes raking the building as he opens the car door for you. “I love Japanese food.”

“I know, I remembered.” Jimin grins tapping the side of his temple while extending an arm for you. You grip on to the crook of his elbow. “This place is the next best thing to actually going to Japan.”

After being seated on the upper level of the restaurant, a private table in the corner with an incredible view of the city you can’t help but feel out of your depth. “Can you tell I don’t normally come to places like this?” You joke.

“Of course not.” He smiles.

“I would have been happy wherever we went, y’know. Even if it was Subway”

“I know,” He playfully rolls his eyes. “I recently sold one of my paintings at auction and made more money than I ever have in my career. Let me treat my favorite lady Next time you can treat me to a meatball sub.”

“Deal.”

“Any word from Namjoon or Hyerin?” He asks, taking a sip of the crimson liquid in his glass.

“No,” You sigh. “I’m excited for them! They don’t even know what sex the baby is.”

“I bet it’s a girl.” Jimin smiles.

“No, it’s a boy. I can feel it. You can tell by the shape of the bump.”

Jimin quirks a questioning brow at you. “Sorry, Doctor Y/N. I forgot about your expertise for a moment.” He says sarcastically.

“Apology accepted.” You play along.

“Let’s make a bet. If it’s a girl, I win. If it’s a boy, you win.”

“What’s at stake?” You question.

“If I win…” He pauses for a moment in thought. “You have to model for me.”

“For a painting?”

“Or a drawing.” He shrugs.

“And if I’m right?” You pry.

“You can say I told you so as much as you want.” He replies and you roll your eyes. It’s hardly a fair bet.

“No, if i'm correct you have to watch whatever movie I want for the next month.”

“Fine. Cruel but fair.”

“Deal!”

As expected the meal is wonderful, and you feel spoiled beyond belief, especially when Jimin toasts to you with a glass of probably the most expensive wine you’ve ever had. After dinner, instead of returning to the car he links your fingers together and pulls you in the opposite direction, citing he needs to walk off the glass of wine he had before he drives anywhere.

Jimin guides you to a nearby river that you can’t remember the name of. At night it’s lit up beautifully, the twinkling lights of the cityscape behind it only adding to the view. The weather is almost perfect and you feel utterly content.

He cages your body with his as he stands behind you, arms looping around your waist, hugging your body tightly to his. “I had such a nice time with you, butterfly.” He murmurs against your neck, before placing a few open mouthed kisses against your skin. A dreamy sigh escapes your parted lips. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

“Thank you for tonight Jimin. It was perfect.” You twist in his arms until you’re chest to chest. His eyes sparkle, reflecting the scenery behind you. His eyes lock with yours as if you’re the only thing in the universe.

Soft lips brush against yours as you cling tightly to him. Jimin’s hands slide underneath your jacket touching the bare skin of your back. He moans quietly into the kiss. “Fuck, I want to take you home.”

“Want you to take me home.” You smirk, raking your hands down his chest. He bites his lip.

“I have a gift for you first though.”

“Jimin,” You whine. “You’ve done more than enough for me.”

“Never.” He teases, stealing a few more kisses from you.

By the time you’re back at the car, Jimin is sober enough to drive and grinning like a cheshire cat. You eye him with a quirked brow. He unlocks the car with a chirp before striding to the trunk and popping it open. “Why do you look like you’re up to something?”

“Me?” He feigns innocence, clutching dramatically at his chest as if you’ve hurt him deeply. “Get in the car.” He instructs, sensing your hesitation.

You hold his playful stare for a moment before giving in and climbing into the passenger side.

The car obstructs most of the view, so you can’t see what he’s up to, although it doesn’t stop you from trying. Only a moment later he’s sliding into the driver’s side, a large pastel pink, flat rectangle box in one hand. You don’t miss the black lace bow holding the gift together. You know exactly what it’s contents are.

“Jimin…”

“For you.” He gives you a sly smile as he hands over the box.

Carefully you unwrap the packaging, revealing some of the most beautiful lingerie you’ve ever seen. “Oh my god.” You gasp. “This is…wow. Oh my god! It’s Agent Provocateur for crying out loud! It’s stunning. You must be broke after tonight.”

He laughs while you ramble on about how stunning the lacy garment is. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You lean across the console pecking Jimin enthusiastically several times on the cheek.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He says gently. “I love seeing you happy.”

“I’m assuming the intention is for me to wear this...for you?” You suggest with a smirk.

“I said no such thing.”

“So, essentially. This is a gift for Jimin. I haven’t forgotten about your little lingerie kink.”

His blush is noticeable even in the dim streetlight. “Lingerie on you.” He corrects. “You don’t have to wear it for me. I just know you like that sort of thing.”

“How did you even know what size I am?” You query.

“Um,” Jimin, scratches the back of his neck and laughs at himself. “I may have checked the tags on your underwear.”

“Ah. sneaky.” You tease, kissing him once more. “Take me to your place before I beg you to fuck me right here, right now.”

Jimin’s eyes widen in surprise, wondering whether you're being serious or not, no doubt. But he listens anyway and does as you ask, turning the key in the ignition before peeling out of the parking space.

***

Several hours later, as you’re both about to turn in for the night, you receive the text you have eagerly been anticipating the entire day. Hyerin has given birth to a healthy, baby girl.

You nudge Jimin who is on the verge of sleep beside you, spent from the evening, heavy eyelids blinking slowly as he struggles to stay awake. “Hmm?” He mumbles

“It’s a baby girl. Look.”

It takes a minute to register in his mind exactly what you’re talking about before his eyes shoot open, mouth formed in a perfect ‘o’. You thrust your phone screen towards him, a picture of the newborn on display. “Cute.” He yawns.

“Isn’t she?” You hum in agreement, smiling down at the image. “She looks like Hyerin.”

“She’s only a few hours old, she doesn’t look like anyone yet.” Jimin laughs.

“Look at her eyes and tell me that’s not Hyerin!” You defend.

“Are we just going to pretend I didn’t win the bet?” He reminds you, pulling you close to him as soon as you put your phone away. “You owe me, butterfly.”

You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, feeling safe and secure. You can’t help but smile into his skin. “Just let me know when and where you want me.”

“How about this weekend?” He suggests, stroking your hair. “At my studio?”

“Sounds perfect.”

***

It’s only a few days later you find yourself, along with Jimin, at Namjoon and Hyerin’s apartment. Excitement bubbles in your chest at the prospect of meeting their new arrival. You’ve never really been crazy about children, however something about having witnessed the growth of this infant since day one has created a special connection with her.

“Here she is,” Hyerin gives you an exhausted smile, handing the bundle of yellow blankets over to you. The tiny face of a newborn peeking out from underneath, dark hair poking out at the top of the blankets. She seems impossibly tiny. Gently you cradle her, carefully because she looks so fragile and new you can’t quite believe it.

“Nice to meet you beautiful girl.” You coo, unable to stop a wide smile from forming on your face. Jimin sits next to you, an arm slung over the back of the couch, leaning forward so he can see her too. “It’s Auntie y/n.”

She blinks up at you owlishly and it’s amazing to you how intently she’s focusing on your face. You don’t even know if someone her age can register a face yet but it still feels magical.

“I think she recognises your voice.” Hyerin points out, smiling at the pair of you. “She’s heard it enough over the past few months.”

“Is that even possible?” You blink in surprise.

“According to some of the stuff I’ve read, yeah.” Hyerin nods.

“Does she have a name yet?” Jimin asks, eyes never leaving the baby.

“We’re still not sure,” Namjoon answers. “We were thinking Yeona, maybe.”

“It means beautiful baby. Or heart of gold.” Hyerin laughs. “It fits, no?”

“Definitely.” You breathe. “Hello Yeona.” You sing-song to see if she reacts, but she merely yawns earning a laugh from the room. “Message received, pretty girl.”

Her eyes start to flutter shut and you place the pacifier Hyerin hands to you into her small mouth. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep in your arms while you rock her gently.

“You’re stuck with her now, y/n.” Namjoon laughs. “It’s not good to wake a sleeping baby, you know. Sit tight so Hyerin and I can go nap for four hours.”

“Joonie!” Hyerin scolds with a laugh. He was only joking of course.

“No offense, but both of you look like you could use it.” Jimin quips.

“You’re telling me,” Namjoon groans. “She sleeps a lot at the moment, but honestly, i’m just in a constant state of worry for her wellbeing. 24/7. I haven’t relaxed even for a second in days”

“Me too.” Hyerin agrees. “Top that off with my recovery from the birth and I feel like a zombie.”

“It’ll be worth it.” You say sincerely. Namjoon and Hyerin share a look, the kind of secret exchange two people in love would have. It brings you so much happiness to see them thriving together. Silence falls between the four of you but it isn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Everyone is at ease.

A vibrating sound buzzes, followed by a shrill ring, interrupting the peace. Your phone is ringing from your handbag that sits at your feet. “Ah, I can’t get that. Jimin can you see who it is? It might be work, I don’t want to miss another call from them.”

Jimin reaches for your cellphone and his face falls at the caller id. He says nothing, merely showing you the screen that reads ‘Jeon Jungkook incoming call’. He hasn’t contacted you directly once since the breakup. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach. This can’t be good.

“I’ll call them back later.” You tell Jimin with a shake of your head. You don’t want to be the person that ruins this evening. Tactfully picking up on your tone, he silences the call before slipping his phone back into your bag.

***

Hyerin is putting the baby down for the night whilst Namjoon, you and Jimin have some coffee. Finally having your arms back to yourself you check your phone, only to feel horrified at the sheer amount of notifications. All from Jungkook.

“I need to go make a call,” You announce standing up. Jimin looks at you, worry flashing in his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

You don’t wait for a response, choosing to instead quickly slip out the front door and into the hallway of their complex, shutting it quietly behind you. You press Jungkook’s name on your call list and wait.

It rings out, before going to voicemail. You try again.

And again.

And again until he answers on the seventh call. “Baaabyy.” He’s drunk and barely coherent. “I’m outside your apartment. Let me in.”

Fuck.

“Jungkook, I’m not home right now.” You say firmly, praying that Taehyung isn’t home either. He shouldn’t have to deal with this, it’s not what he signed up for when he agreed to be your roommate.

“Where are you? Are you at Jimin’s place?” He spits.

“No I’m with Namjoon and Hyerin.” You sigh. “I’m on my way home though. Where is Hoseok?”

“Hoseok tried to lock me up like a fucking prisoner. I don’t give a fuck where he is.”

Exasperated, you pinch the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, inhaling a deep breath. It’s frustrating to remain calm with someone who is so clearly self sabotaging. “Kook, I’m gonna come get you okay. Will you wait for me?”

“Of course baby. I’ll be - “ He hiccups. “Right here.”

“Don’t go anywhere.” You warn. “I won’t be long.”

You hurry back inside to find Jimin and Namjoon laughing about something, but as soon as their eyes land on you it dies away. “Is everything okay?” Jimin is quick to ask.

“We have to go.” You reply bluntly, cutting straight to the chase. “Jungkook is wasted, hanging outside my apartment, begging to be let in.”

“Christ.” Namjoon groans. “Where was Hoseok? He was keeping an eye on him. Apparently he was completely sober the last few days!”

“I don’t know but I can’t leave Jungkook wandering around shit-faced like that.” You share his frustration. “I’m sorry Namjoon. Tell Hyerin I’m sorry and I’ll call her later.”

Namjoon can only nod as you and Jimin scramble your things together and rush out the door.

***

Taehyung texts you on the drive over. You breathe a sigh of small relief when you realise he’s at work and won’t be home until the small hours of the morning. Still, you don’t intend to risk your living situation so Jimin agrees that the best course of action is to take Jungkook to his place. Jimin lives alone, it’s the easiest option.

“Should I come with you? Or do you want me to wait here?” Jimin asks as he parks the car.

“Stay here for now. I think he might get angry if he sees you.” You head hurts already at the prospect of dealing with that drama. Jimin gives you a solemn look before giving you the okay.

Walking up the stairs and down the hallway to your apartment, your stomach twists with dread, anticipating the condition you might find Jungkook in. You take a deep breath as you round the final corner. Thankfully, it’s not as bad as you had expected.

Jungkook, adorned in his trademark all black outfit, sits on the floor. His back is pressed flush against the wall opposite your front door. A hood covers most of his face and his arms are crossed on his chest, legs sprawled out in front of him. He almost looks like he’s sleeping.

“Jungkook?” You ask gently, crouching down beside him. He stirs slightly. You push the hood off his face and brush some of his long hair away from his eyes. “Kookie.” You repeat.

His eyes slowly flutter open and it takes a few seconds for him to focus on you. “Baby.” He grins lopsidedly, fumbling to hold you. It’s an awkward embrace given that you're not in the right position for a hug right now.

“Do you want to stand up for me?” You’re unsure how to approach telling him he’s going to Jimin’s, so for right now trepidation and caution is key. Jungkook nods. He slings an arm around your shoulder, while you slide one around his waist, letting him lean on your for support.

“Are we going inside now?” He mumbles. “...m’tired.”

“We can’t, My roommate is home.” You lie.

“Roommate?” Jungkook frowns. “Jimin?”

“Taehyung.” You correct.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Come on, my car is downstairs, we’re going somewhere else.” You avoid his question, and he seems momentarily satisfied with your answer. “Let’s walk to the elevator.”

He doesn’t remove his arm from your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. “Are you mad at me baby?” He asks, slumping against you in the elevator.

“No. I’m not.” It’s the truth, you’re not angry. Above anything and everything you’re concerned for him.

Jimin spots you walking out the building and immediately springs up and out of the driver's seat to help you. He appears at the side of the car, opening the door to the backseat. “I’m not going anywhere with him.” Jungkook snarls, pointing obnoxiously at Jimin.

“Kookie, kookie, please - “ You beg.

“NO! You’ll take me to Hoseok’s or rehab. No.” He yells.

“I promise we won’t, Jungkook.” Jimin assures him quietly. “You can just crash at my apartment. We won’t tell Hoseok if you don’t want us to.”

Jungkook looks down cautiously at you, as if he can gauge whether Jimin is serious or not by your expression. He sways a little as he stands. “Baby girl,” he sighs dramatically. “I don’t want to go.”

“Please,” You say quietly. “I don’t want to leave you by yourself right now.”

“You want me?” He asks, his intoxicated brain clearly misinterpreting your words. That’s not exactly what you meant but if it will get him in the car and on the way to safety you’ll agree to almost anything.

“Of course. Come get in.”

He hesitates for a minute, but lets you bundle him in the car anyway. As you go to close the door, he grabs your wrist. “Noooo,” He whines. “Sit in the back with me.”

“Jungk - “

“Sit with me or I’m not going.”

You exchange a glance with Jimin who looks unhappy but nods, encouraging you to just continue playing along. When you slip into your side, Jungkook hastily and roughly pulls you into the middle of the backseat, then wraps his arms around you.

“Jungkook,” You warn, attempting to push his arms away.

“You said you’d sit with me.” He pouts, burying his face into your neck. You sigh, accepting defeat, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ to Jimin when your eyes meet in the rear view mirror. He shakes his head ‘don’t worry’ he mouths back.

Jungkook soon falls asleep on your shoulder. His grip on you slackens a little. Using this as an opportunity you slowly roll one sleeve up his arm. In the light of the passing street lamps it’s hard to tell but there doesn’t appear to be any track marks. From his behaviour tonight he didn’t seem high; only inebriated. A threadbare silver lining, you suppose.

By the time all three of you have made it inside of Jimin’s apartment, Jungkook is just about completely blacked out. Together you and Jimin place him on the sofa. Jimin has a luxury corner couch so it’s basically like a small bed anyway. You help him out of his shoes while Jimin fetches some water and a bucket, knowing Jungkook’s tendendancy for vomiting after alcohol.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook sounds emotional, but you know it’s the liquor talking. You perch on the side of the couch beside him.

“It’s alright.” You say kindly. “Why did you drink so much tonight?”

“I’m not allowed to do drugs, so may as well get drunk.” He grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

You shake your head at his ridiculous logic. It’s quiet as you wait for Jimin to return, and by the time he has Jungkook is once again unconscious. As if by muscle memory from having done it so many times before, you make sure he’s laying on his side, so he doesn’t die if he vomits in his sleep.

Jimin sets down the bucket and water next to Jungkook. “Thank you.” Your voice is hoarse.

It’s silent as you head to Jimin’s bedroom together. Emotionally you feel drained. How long does this pattern with Jungkook have to repeat before something changes? Inevitably it will take its toll. Not just on Jungkook himself, not just your relationship, but every one in your social group. It hurts to see Jungkook so out of control. He always used to be so outgoing. So free. So happy.

Robotically you go through the motions of your bedtime routine, as does Jimin. Without asking, you grab his shirt to wear to bed. You finish changing before him and watch as he rakes through a drawer, pulling on a pair of pyjama pants.

You’re so lucky to have him. After everything you’ve put him through, he’s been nothing but supportive. It’s so different to how you felt about Jungkook. That all consuming passion you and Jungkook had burns bright but fades quickly. How you feel about Jimin has been a slow, steady burn. It feels authentic. Stable. Real.

“Jimin.” You begin quietly.

“Hm?” He climbs into bed next to you. “Are you okay?”

“I just wanted you to know, you’re an amazing person for doing this tonight. I don’t know many people who would go to the lengths you have for Jungkook, or for me.” You breathe, suddenly feeling very nervous. He squeezes you a little tighter. “I love you Jimin.”

“Uh - “ He pulls away, looking flustered and immediately your stomach drops. Maybe he has changed his mind.

“Oh god! I’m sorry, I stupidly just assumed you’d still be in the same place as before, and I know i’ve kept you waiting for so long. Fuck, Jimin, I’m sorry, really - “

He silences your overthinking with a press of his lips against yours. “I love you too.”

Jimin is smiling now, his big eyes almost closed with how hard he’s grinning.

“It’s a weird time to say it huh?” You laugh, kissing him again. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you as much as I do at this moment.” You hide your face against his chest, feeling shy from your admission. His chest vibrates as he chuckles.

“I love you, I love you so much butterfly.”

“I love you. We took a long route to get here, but I’m glad we did.”

“Does this mean we’re together now? Officially? I overheard you panic when Taehyung referred to me as your boyfriend.” Jimin teases. You were not aware he heard that.

“Yes. I’m all yours.” You smile into his shirt.

He kisses the top of your head. You fall asleep in his embrace not long afterwards.

***

The digital bedside clock reads 5:03am when you jolt awake. Unsure of what startled you, you listen carefully for a noise but all that can be heard is your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears with Jimin’s soft breathing in the background.

You roll over as best you can because he’s still clinging to you (although your positions have changed) even in slumber. You press a kiss to his cheek, watching him fondly for a few moments. His perfect mouth is parted slightly and his hair is adorably messy.

Suddenly you recall Jungkook passed out in the living room. Not that you forgot about him per say, you were just distracted by Jimin for a moment. Quietly you tip toe out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Jungkook is still in almost exactly the same position as he was when you left him several hours ago. As silently as you can you sit down next to him, just to make sure he’s okay. Evidently he’s not as deep asleep as you’d presumed because his eyes flutter open at the weight of your body sinking down on to the couch.

“y/n.” He croaks at the sight of you. “Where am I? Is this your place?” He coughs a few times, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

You forgot he had never been to Jimin’s new apartment. Jimin had moved after everything went down. No wonder the surroundings were unfamiliar. He probably didn’t remember much from the previous night either.

“This is Jimin’s apartment.” For some reason you feel guilty admitting that. “Are you thirsty? Can I get you anything?”

“What?” He sits up on his elbows, looking around the room. “Did he move?” You nod. “Oh…”

“Do you remember much from last night?” You ask nervously.

“Ahhh, kind of,” He looks embarrassed, eyes darting away. “I remember wanting to see you. Going to your house. Vaguely remember hugging you in the car. That’s about it.”

“Where was Hoseok? Last I heard you were staying with him. Namjoon said you were sober.”

“Hobi’s girlfriend broke her ankle so he took her to hospital. I snuck out, even though I promised Hobi I wouldn’t.” Jungkook has the decency to look ashamed. “I am sober….I was at least. I haven’t done drugs in a long time. I guess I just got cabin fever.”

“That’s understandable,” You sigh. “You shouldn’t drink if you get in such a state. What if you had driven again!? How did you even make it to my apartment last night?”

“Walked.” He shrugs.

“Jungkook.” You hide your face behind your palms when you feel the tears begin to burn in your eyes. He doesn’t say anything. You feel him shuffle a little and then wrap his arms around you in a hug.

“Don’t cry.” He whispers.

“I can’t keep doing this. You need to get help.” You choke back a sob. “Why won’t you?”

His hold on you tightens. “I’m scared. I’m ashamed. I’m supposed to be a fun, party guy. Not an addict.”

Gently you push him away. “There is nothing wrong with needing help Jungkook. From the outside, it appears as if you desperately need it. What can I say to convince you?”

“I…”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll drive you anywhere, Jimin will drive you anywhere. God knows Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi will do anything for you. Take you to AA meetings, therapy, anything. Just tell me what, Jungkook, and I’ll do it.”

“Will everyone think less of me? Will you think less of me?” He asks quietly, taking you aback. “You hate me now. I was awful to you when we were together.”

“No. If anything I’d think more highly of you. It’s infinitely more difficult to take control than it is to lose it.” A lone tear escapes. “In regards to us? We weren’t compatible Kookie, but I loved you very much.”

“I still love you. I think I always will. I’m sorry I fucked up.”

“It’s done. There’s nothing we can do about the past. I’m sorry too. Obviously I care about you, which is why I’m trying my best to help.”

Jungkook nods slowly, processing everything you’ve just explained.

“I’ll do it.” He says with certainty.

“Jungkook,” You desperately want to get your hopes up, he sounds so sure.

“If you help me.”

“Of course.”

“Jimin won’t mind? I know you’re together now.” He asks. Jungkook doesn’t look angry, or even hurt. It’s worse. He looks sad.

“Jimin loves you Jungkook, regardless of everything that’s transpired. I know he won’t mind.”

“Okay.” He replies quietly.

“Stay here for the rest of the day. I’ll make you food, and we can figure out what is the right help for you. I know you felt pressured before but we’ll find what is best for you. You don’t have to do anything against your will. Sound good?” You ask.

“Thank you.” He mumbles meekly.

“It’s still early. Get some sleep.” You give him a small smile before you stand up and leave.

***

Once you return to the privacy of Jimin’s room, you get back into bed. Your boyfriend rouses at the sound of the door clicking shut, which you’re thankful for because you would feel guilty waking him. “Hey beautiful.” He says sleepily. “Where’d you go?”

“I was checking on Jungkook.” You explain. “We need to help him Jimin.”

“I know.” He sits up a little in bed, yawning.

“He promised he would take this seriously. Only if I help him.” You pause, waiting for a negative reaction but Jimin is merely patient, waiting for you to continue. “I told him we all would as long as he stays here today. He might be more receptive to help if we do it more...casually? I think he felt like a hostage at Hoseoks.”

“That’s fine. He can stay here as long as he wants. I hate seeing him like he was last night. He acts like a completely different person when he’s drinking.”

You’re instantly reminded of the physical fight the two men had had, knowing there was no way it would have occurred if Jungkook had been sober. Maybe that’s why Jimin seemed to have forgiven him so quickly.

Lacing your hands with Jimin, you squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Thank you.”

***

Jimin has the tact to remain elusive around the apartment in the following hours. It’s a smart idea to alleviate any tension that his presence may create. You shower first, throwing a hoodie of his and some shorts on before going to see Jungkook. Having spent many nights with Jimin you’re familiar with his morning routine, which is why you’re able to deduce that he’s deliberately taking a long time.

“Can I borrow your phone charger?” Is the first thing Jungkook asks you as you stride into the living room. “My phone died.”

You give him your charger, along with a cup of coffee and sit yourself down beside him. As his phone turns on you can hear the many notifications go off, god knows who he had been calling and texting last night. “How are you feeling?”

“Fuckin’ hungover.” He grimaces. “Where’s Jimin?”

“Shower.”

“Is he pissed off?” Jungkook peers at you over the rim of his coffee mug. His hands are trembling from the after affects of the alcohol.

“No. He’s worried. Everyone is.” You answer truthfully. A few moments of slightly stiff silence pass. You have no idea what is going through Jungkook’s mind at the moment. He’s frowning. “You know, when you attend your trial, if you’re in AA or anything similar it will make you look genuinely remorseful in front of the judge.”

“I am genuinely remorseful.” He mutters. “It’s not as easy as people think just to stop drinking. It’s been my lifestyle for so long now. How am I supposed to tour if I’m sober?!”

The question is rhetorical but you answer anyway. “Lots of rockstars do, you know. If you get treatment you’ll develop coping mechanisms to deal with all of that.”

He makes an agreeable sound but still appears rather skeptical.

After a lengthy discussion (which Jimin awkwardly interrupts to offer food), you manage to convince Jungkook to at least look at AA meetings with you. You promise someone will go with him to everyone one, not to babysit but to be supportive. He’s not allowed to drive at the moment so you surmise having a friend with him would be better than taking a taxi.

Jimin joins you both a little bit later with said promised food, Jungkook calls Hobi to let him know he’s safe. Even though the phone is not on speaker you can hear Hoseok yell. Jungkook simply rolls his eyes.

After he’s eaten Jungkook announces he’s going to leave and head back to Hoseoks. You want him to text you when he’s there (you’re not sure if you even believe him) but you know any amount of pressure right now when he’s this fragile could ruin everything.

The goodbye is awkward, it’s to be expected. He thanks you both, lingers for a moment and then he’s gone. He assured you both that he would text when he is going to go for his first meeting. You really hope he does.

***

Jimin makes sure not to let you forget your promise to model for him. Although the situation with Jungkook left the two of you feeling slightly off kilter for the rest of Saturday, by lunch time Sunday his lingering touches and innuendos leave little to the imagination. He kisses your neck as you’re making food, whispering: “Want to go to my studio? I believe you owe me.”

“Now?” You smile dreamily, leaning into his touch.

“We can eat first, if you want.” He nips the skin at the junction of your neck before running his tongue over the flesh and beginning to suckle. It’s going to leave a bruise, which you absolutely cannot have the day before starting a new job.

“Jimin,” You complain, pushing him off you. “I’ve got work tomorrow, I can’t go in there looking like some horny teenager who let her boyfriend play vampire on their neck.”

“Sorry.” He snickers. “I was thinking some hickeys might look pretty when I paint you. You know most live models are nude...”

“I knew this was a ploy to get me naked.” You smirk, wiping the knife you were using to cut fruit on a dishtowel. It gets tossed in the sink, leaving you hands free to spin in his arms and face him.

“Kind of,” He grins. “But I also really want my muse to model for me.”

“Naked?”

“If you’re comfortable.” His fingers begin to unbutton the oversize plaid shirt of his you’re wearing (stolen of course), until you’re exposed all the way to your navel. Plush lips travel down from your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shiver feeling his saliva meet the cool air. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I think your body is art, y/n. Every inch of it.”

You gasp when he yanks down the cups of your bra, taking a nipple in his mouth. He repeats this on your other breast before gently sucking a bruise on the skin next to it. After a minute or two he pulls away to assess his work with a smirk.

“Jimin,” You pant as your hands fly to grip the counter behind you. He’s barely done anything and you’re already weak for him. “You can’t leave a mark anywhere someone might see.”

“Unless you’re going to work without clothes on, these are just for my eyes only sweetheart.” More buttons are undone as Jimin kneels on the floor before you, grasping your hips in his hands. His mouth trails to the flesh right above your hip bone where he works on forming another lovebite. “Is this turning you on, butterfly?” He asks breathlessly.

Jimin’s big eyes meet yours as he looks up to confirm what he already knows is true. When you don’t answer immediately, he strokes a thumb over your quickly dampening panties, right where your swollen clit would be underneath. “Y-yeah.” You manage to choke out.

“Mhm,” Jimin carries on rubbing you as he resumes sucking a hickey slightly above the mark he just made. After one particular harsh suck and a nip with his teeth you jolt with pleasure. “I can feel how wet you are through your panties.”

“It feels so good.” You almost whimper. “I want more. Take my underwear off.”

“No.” He bites his lip, holding back a devilish look.

“Jimin, please.” You whine. It’s not like him to tease you. “Please.”

“Nuh uh.” He shakes his head. “You’re going to be a good girl for me first.” He punctuates his words by increasing the pressure.

“I am being good.” You breath hitches when he stops. “Jimin.”

“I meant, be good and model for me.” He stands up, kissing you teasingly on the lips. “Get dressed, we are going to my studio.”

a/n: if anyone is curious, THIS is what I imagined Jimin’s apartment to be like. THIS is what i imagined the lingerie gift as. (i’m a really visual person & always love it when other writers include stuff like this). p.s the next chapter is one of the smuttiest things ive ever written oh lawd. prepare yourselves.

p.p.s the next chapter is the end :(

MASTERLIST

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spacehologramcollection · 5 years

Text

Request; The Kombat Krew and rough sex;

So here it is. It was requested. It was trashy, so I wrote it. Back on my bullshit. I included After-care in this, because it is so fucking important guys. Stay safe out there. Warnings; NSFW, slight bondage? Rough (Consensual) sex, cum, ejacualtion, and all that smutty goodness under the cut so 18+. Some fluff, Kano mentioned but it is, as always, a shitpost. GIFS do not belong to me.

Kabal;

· Kabal can be rough when he wants to be. He’s more into it when he’s Pre-burn rather than Post-Burn. Post-Burn Kabal would prefer more soft and sensual sex. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it rough still.

· He is a big ol’ switch. He doesn’t mind if you’re rough with him at all, he fucking loves it either fucking way.

· He will discuss limits and safe words with you, because he doesn’t want you getting injured or anything like that. He’s really considerate and laid back with your kinks.

· He loves to fuck up you against the wall especially. With his cock buried deep within you, all whilst he’s thrusting into you, his head buried into the crook of your neck. He’ll always nibble and bite at your neck if you’re down for it. He wouldn’t mind you doing this to him either.

· If you’re into it, he wouldn’t mind gently playing with your neck and playfully biting at it. Leaving marks. Just to remind him of your night together. He’ll love it if you leave marks on him too.

· Hair pulling. It doesn’t matter if it’s his hair or yours. He’s into it and if you’re into it or down to do it, he is up for it. He’ll love to pull your hair whilst fucking you from behind, bringing you up to press flush against his chest. So, he can grab and caress your chest whilst he fucks into you. He’ll also be into pulling your hair whilst you suck him off. There is nothing better than the feel of your mouth wrapped around his cock; all the whilst he’s got his hands tangled in your hair.

· He loves having his hair pulled. He fucking loves it and will moan so badly whilst you’re doing it to him too.

· He fucks hard and rough. He can pound into you pretty quickly as well. The joys of his power. Loves to hear the sounds of you moaning, mixed with the sound of your skin meeting as he fucks into you. When you moan and grip at his shoulders, trying to hold on, he fucking loses it.

· He would be down for you fucking his mouth/ riding his face. He fucking loves it. Anything to get you moaning and soaking his face. He is fucking great at Oral and he fucking knows it.

· Is so good at aftercare once you’re done. He’ll shower you in loving words, compliments and asks if you’re okay. He’ll run you a bath, wash your hair and order food if you’re hungry. Whatever you want, you get. If you want to watch films and cuddle after, his princess is getting just that.

Smoke (Tomas Vrbada);

· Running theme with the Lin Kuei men. They aren’t all overly experienced. So, Smokey Boo bear here is no different. He’s fucked a few times but nothing serious, so he hasn’t really had the chance to explore his more… rougher side. He is very shy when it comes to sex.

· Right off the bat, he will tell you his limits and what he doesn’t want to do. So you’ll be discussing it, since he read somewhere this is what you’re meant to do when shit gets a bit rougher. He’ll make a note of yours and will never push you past them. He’s really considerate. You’ve got your Safe word which is Oolong. It’s an un-sexy word and he was drinking tea with Kuai when he thought of it.

· One of his limits, he does not like to be left with no control at all, and probably won’t act submissive with you. He does not like it at all, and it is understandable with him. Not saying he won’t let you be on the rough side with him, or edge him, he just wants to feel like he has some control. He is shy and new to a lot of things.

· At first, he’s a bit reluctant to do anything on the rougher side. He’s worried about hurting you. After a fair bit of reassurance, he ends up exploring it with you.

· He’ll always start off slow and steady, before he ends up getting rougher and faster with you. He will fuck you so hard the bed threatens to break.

· He is also a bit of a moaner. He’s normally so shy and quiet so it comes as a bit of a surprise to you.

· Upon hearing your noises and the seeing the faces you make, as he fucks deeply into you, he’ll come around to the idea of it more.

· He would be into spanking, after you reassured him that it’s fine.

· Inappropriate manipulation of smoke. That’s his power, he’s got it, why the fuck not use it? If you’re okay with it that is. This is probably the kinkiest you’re going to get him.

· He does grow to love being on the rougher side, but don’t expect him to be this shy-guy on the outside, dom king on the inside. Because that will never happen.

· He doesn’t do him being submissive, he has bad memories and he will not like being tied up or any of the sort. He won’t even like tying you up. He’s more on the vanilla side of sex, but he can fuck you hard.

· He prefers intimate and soft sex over rough.

· He is also good at aftercare. He’ll make sure you okay, clean you up, offer to run you a bath or help you shower. Rub lotion on your skin and massage you. He’ll also bring you a book or put something on to watch.

· He likes to be the little spoon, but he will love to spoon you after. He’ll also like to cuddle up to you and be held. Sex is something that takes a bit of getting used to for him. He doesn’t trust people to touch him, so if you’re having sex with him, then you’re one lucky person.

· Smoke needs a hug, some love and some god damn appreciation.

Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang);

· Sub by name but not always nature. I hate myself for this pun.

· So Kuai isn’t the most experienced anyway. So, when you ask if he wants to go rougher, the tips of his ears go red once more.

· He’s far from adept with any style of sex let alone rough. So, it will take some getting used to. It will also take some convincing to do so as well. He is careful and cautious during sex, he acts as if you are made from delicate glass.

· Once convinced, he finds he does enjoy it. There is just something about him fucking you hard. The way you moan, buck your hips up to meet his and how you moan his name. Bonus points if you moan his title.

· He’ll have discussed your limits and safe word long before the idea of rough sex was brought up. He wants to ensure you are comfortable and content during sex. So, this was discussed and was re-brought up just to check.

· Kuai tends to be dominate but he doesn’t mind letting you take control.

· He tends to go for a mediating pace. One minute, slow, sharp and deep thrusts, which make your toes curl and your mouth part. The next, fast, shallow and on occasion deep thrusts. Well angled to make you beg for more.

· He will never admit how much he likes it. He still does prefer intimate sex more. He wants to have an emotional connection during, and that isn’t something he can get through rough sex… or so he thought.

· When you suggest having some rough sex to vent some pent-up frustration, he is… hesitant to say the least. But after going through some safe words and limits, he decides to indulge in it.

· He fucks his stress out. Both your hole and mouth. Gods, there was something hot about watching himself roughly fuck your mouth, whilst you eagerly awaited more and worshipped it practically. It was kinky and ever so forbidden. When you begged for him to cum as well. That had him there and then.

· Prepare for an insane orgasm. He will want you to cum first, he loves watching you come undone, but don’t expect that to be the only one. He could stimulate you enough to essentially make you squirt. He is that good with his fingers. The added coldness is just stimulating enough for it.

· Aftercare wise, he is very attentive and good. He wants you to feel comfortable, safe and secure. Just like you would at any other time with him. You want a drink? He’ll go make some tea. If you want a bath, he’ll go run you one and add some essential oils. If you want to cuddle and for him to soothe any aches, he will do that. He’s very loving and attentive after. This is when he can be intimate with you after if you’ve been rougher. He’ll also be very intimate when you’re both coming down from your highs. Foreheads pressed together, just listening to the gentle rhythm of each other’s hearts.

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi);

· Whilst Hanzo may have a slight rough side. It would be amplified if his Scorpion side started to surface.

· He’s very, very cautious with you and your limits. They’ve been discussed before and he’s always checking if you’re fine and okay. He’s very cautious and protective of you.

· He tends to be more dominate, but does not mind you clawing and marking his skin.

· Hanzo fucking rough normally, would consist of a lot of sharp and rough thrusts. Him aiming to make you moan and writhe below him. And a fair bit of Dirty talk. It isn’t the best but by God is it hot.

· Every surface is a goal to fuck on. The table? Yes. Up against the wall? Yes. You name it, you can fuck on it. But nothing beats the bed.

· He has on occasion fucked you so hard, the bed has broken and given way sending you both crashing down to the floor.

· He’s into having you claw and leave marks on his shoulders and back. God, he loves it. It makes him feel like he’s doing a good job. So that’s his goal, to angle his thrusts and fuck you good enough.

· When his Scorpion side surfaces, expect some rough fucking. More so than his Hanzo side. A lot needier, a lot faster and rougher. He’ll aim to make you moan and scream. His pace is far more savage, it’s well timed and it’s purposeful. That purpose, to make you moan out his name.

· He’d be into biting if you’re into it. Never anywhere to obvious, but somewhere to make you both blush when you spy them.

· Aftercare wise, he’s very apologetic at first. Before ensuring you’re comfortable, cleaning you up and ensuring that you have everything you need. Will offer to run you a bath and take one with you. He’ll also switch to sweet, caring words and make you feel like a Princess.

Erron Black;

· He can fuck you anyway you want to. It’s no issue for him and he’s always down to please his darlin.

· He’ll be more than happy to fuck you rough. He’ll be a little cocky asking if you’re sure you want it all seriously. Before teasing and joking about how he hopes you can cope. Because when Erron fucks hard and rough, it is literally, earth fucking shattering.

· He’ll be into the usual hair-pulling, dirty talk (Which he is EXCEPTIONAL at) and all of that.

· But he’s also into spanking. God if you want him to slap your ass whilst he’s fucking you doggy style he will do. You want him to fuck you into the mattress, whilst your head is pressed down into it. He will do it.

· He’s laid back when it comes to sex, but he will also discuss safe words and limits with you. He wants you both to be safe and comfortable.

· He’s a bit of a switch himself, he loved being topped and has a thing for powerful women in the bedroom. God if you want to sit on his face and ride him hard and rough, he is fucking down for that. He’ll grab your legs and massage your thighs as you fuck his face. God he loves it.

· He’d be into rough sex against the wall, anything that allows him to grab and mark your chest. He’s a sucker for a chest and if he can watch it whilst he fucks you, he’s down.

· He opts for deep, sharp and fast thrusts at an unrelenting pace. The kind of thrusts that will make you weak at the knees.

· He has the ability to make you walk funny the next day, if you’re down for that, that is.

· Erron is a kinky fucker and will always be down for trying something new.

· The king of dirty talk. Lots of pet names and filthy words leaving his lips

· Aftercare wise he’s very soft and switches from filthy words to kind and sweet words. He’ll run you a bath, cuddle you and make you feel fucking divine. Anything to restore your energy. He’ll bring you food and cuddle you. He’ll clean you up and caress your skin. Whispering how perfect his sugar was.

Havik; (He Is on this list permanently now. Because I have thirst problems)

· Well Chaosrrealmers are naturally on the rougher side. So, he’s down for being rough. I wouldn’t say its his default setting to be overly rough, but he isn’t exactly gentle. He doesn’t mean to be on the rougher side, it’s just the way he and most Chaosrrealmers are.

· By rough, I mean his pace is on the rougher and more sloppy side of things. He will be careful with you however. He’ll restrain himself as much as he can. He realises you, are a squishy human, and therefore he may need to be gentler.

· Because you are as he describes it ‘A precious squish’ he will ensure your safety. He is fucking chaos incarnate both in and out of the bedroom. He realises that and therefore, your safety becomes his concern. He cares about you, albeit in an odd way, and he doesn’t want anything to happen to you. So safe words and limits are discussed. He knows you can’t snap your back like he can, so he leaves all the fucking weird positions to himself.

· If you’re into very rough sex, then lock the doors, close the blinds, you’re going for a ride.

· He’s down for being rough, so if you want to be spanked, he’ll spank you. If you want him to bite and leave a mark, he’ll do just that (He has such a thing for biting, it’s an informal way of him saying ‘Yes we’ve fucked’ You want him to lightly choke you during? He’s down for it. You want him to pull your hair whilst he fucks you from behind? Sure… could you pull his hair whilst you ride him? Because that would be nice. Whatever you want him to do to you, he would be down for it being done to him.

· He may ask you to slap him during sex, you’re not sure why, but it gets him off. He’s a big ol’ switch too. He likes it if you’re rough with him.

· But be aware. I have no idea how to phrase this nicely, but I agree with the consensus he has a pretty big dick. Like this thing, is massive. To him, it’ll be nothing, like but to you, it’s fucking huge. So, you’ll need to take that into consideration.

· Sex is chaotic, and he fucking thrives in it.

· Aftercare with him is interesting. He’ll always ask if you’re okay, make sure you’re comfortable and that you’re fine. He’ll also bring you food and drink. Before holding you close. He’ll also try and make you laugh as much as possible. He will bend over literally to make you feel happy and content.

Hotaru;

· It may come at a bit of a surprise, but he has a rougher side. Let’s face it, he would be a bit of a Dom. He likes order.

· You’ll probably have dossiers and forms to fill in, but that is probably his foreplay if I’m being honest. But he will ensure you’ve got your limits and safe words discussed and on paper if necessary. Anything to keep you both safe.

· He doesn’t do being a sub, there is no way that is happening. You can ride him, but he’ll always have some control. It’s jus the way he is.

· Due to the nature of Seidan’s you didn’t expect him to be overly confident/experienced with sex… but he surprises you. He is a little rougher than you expected. But he isn’t going to fuck you into the mattress unless you’re okay with it. He attributes his rough nature to stress, but he isn’t going to tell you that.

· He can be as rough as you want him to be essentially. But don’t expect it to be sloppy and rough. Because he does not do that. Every thrust and movement is well thought out and meticulous.

· If you want him to fuck you slow and but hard, he can do that, he can have you begging for more with ease. If you want him to take you hard and fast, with you gripping and clawing at his shoulders to hold on he can.

· His filthy and rather kinky secret, he wants you to suck his cock whilst he’s laid back doing nothing.

· Would be into collaring you and holding a leash, once more only if you’re down for it. He likes order and control, so it’s only natural this translates into his sex life.

· Leading on from the him wanting his cock sucked whilst laid back, he’d nut right there if you were collared for him.

· If you really want to get him going and have him fucking, you rough against a wall. Act a bit chaotic for him. Maybe mess his paperwork up, tease him or just move something on his desk whilst he’s looking. Bite your lip so he knows what you’re up to. And it’ll be a sure-fire way to get him to fuck you hard and rough. You know what you’re doing so you’re prepared for his reaction.

· Which is usually him pouncing, hand over your mouth, and him whispering about how ‘Filthy and Chaotic you are’ He is actually pretty damn good at dirty talk. Which is surprising. It makes you wonder how much of a saint he actually is.

· All of this is yours and his secrets, blabbing about his actual kinks is crude and will turn him off.

· Call him Commander or General and you’ve got yourself an authority kink right there. He’ll be asking you to service the Seidan Guard, and by Sedian Guard he means him and him alone. He does not share.

· In summary; Hotaru is pretty much a defined Dom and you cannot tell me otherwise. Suck his cock in a suit type dom. I could add more but I am running out of time!

· Aftercare wise he’s very sweet, he changes from being this rough commander to a soft and doting man. You’re his flower at the end of the day, and you need plenty of love, sunshine and water to survive! Your needs are his needs and he will ensure you have whatever you want. He’s organised, so when you’re finished, your bath will be ready, he’s already got a towel to clean you both up. He will insist on bathing with you, he doesn’t like to feel grimy, sweaty or sticky. After though, he’ll make you tea and massage you. It’s not often he gets to spend intimate time with you, and he cherishes every moment.

Dark Raiden;

· Mirror, mirror on the wall, who fucks the roughest of them all? Dark Raiden you say?

· If you wanted a dom or someone who can fuck you rough, then he is your man! Raiden when he had control, would never have dreamed of being rough with you. But Dark!Raiden, well, he can sense your filthy mortal desires and he’s more than willing to give them to you.

· He’ll still be cautious of hurting/over-stimulating you. You are after all a Mortal and are not immortal. So, he will ensure he knows your limits and no-goes beforehand. You’re still his queen and soulmate. Outside the bedroom prepare to be treat like a queen, but inside, inside he’ll treat you whatever way you want to be.

· You want him to use some of that holy lightning of his? Prepare for it to become unholy. He could literally spank your ass and leave a perfect hand print.

· You want him to bite and mark you, he feels no shame in leaving visible bite marks, just to let people know you’re both intimate.

· His pace would be a mix. He’d start of slow, with a mix of shallow and deep thrusts, teasing and edging you. Before moving on and fucking you hard and fast.

· He’ll love to look into your eyes, not wanting you to look away, so he’ll be cupping your cheek and whispering PURE FILTH into your ears. Where the fuck did this side of him come from?! Fucking hell. The Elder Gods have left the chat, forgiveness has stopped, do not pass go do not collect £200.

· He’ll want to cum on you and make a massive fucking mess of you. If you’re down with that of course.

· The king of edging and foreplay. Standing Blow Job whilst he toys with your hair? Yes please. Sitting Blow Job, whilst his legs are spread far apart, and he’s lazing around. But still in control? If you’re down for it, then he’s down for it.

· Once it’s all over, he will go softer and you will see a side of him not many others see. He’ll make sure you’re clean, comfortable and content before holding you. He’ll stroke your hair and praise you. He’ll also make you feel divine and like a holy being.

· In conclusion, Dark Raiden could be the ultimate kinky fuck. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Baraka;

· You’ve seen him, do you think he can fuck rough? Yes, Yes, he can. Tarkatan’s don’t really do soft and gentle. Sure, he tries for you and he really does try. But if you want to experience him being rough, then he’s sure as hell down for it.

· You’ve previously discussed safe-words and limits for yourself. You’re human and he understands that. He doesn’t really have limits himself, but he will not be a sub and it’s near impossible for you to be rough with him. He’s literally rock-solid muscle and looks like he’s face fucked some metal. Yeah. You aren’t hurting him at all. So, don’t worry.

· If you’re down for a really rough fuck he can give you it. Whether you want to be fucked against the wall, on the bed, on the floor. Anywhere, he can give it to you.

· His natural pace would be fast and deep, unrelenting and hard. He has the ability to make you lose control of your grip on the English language. With only your moans, groans and needy caresses showing how much, you’re enjoying it. He’s smug as fuck about it as well.

· Your orgasms will be fucking monumental and earth shattering, he aims to make you cum at least twice before he does. He wants to see you buck up into him, you gripping and grabbing at him, trying to hold on as he fucks you to Oblivion and back.

· You need to be cautious of his spikey bits, unless you’re into that, then caution not needed.

· He’d be into marking and biting if you’re into it too. He’ll leave them on you, and you can leave them on him, if you want to that is.

· Aftercare wise, he’ll follow your lead on what you want. Tarkatan’s have after-sex rituals, sow hen you admit you’re curious to what they are, he’s more than happy to show you. He’ll clean you up gently with a cloth, he’ll also bathe with you with essential oils and massage your body. He’ll also bring you fresh water and some fruit, he heard humans like fruit and vegetables, he doesn’t but you do you. You funky human you. He’ll also praise you on your strength and stamina.

Kano; (Shitpost)

• Sloppy sex. He’s sloppy and rough by default. So yeah there is that. • Absolute filth that leaves his mouth. • He is filth. Likes arse and smells like arse. • He has a piss fetish. I speak the truth so there it is. Not kink shaming anyone but him. • He is going to fuck you for five minutes, cum, drink a beer and pass out after. Before sleep mumbling asking how it was for you. Not electric that’s for damns sure. • Will scratch his flabby man arse whilst passed out snoring. Awful human being. • He’s disgusting. • Once passed out, just go and see Kabal or Erron, they would be more than happy to let you cum first and multiple times.

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