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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time). big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights for this specific imagery

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado.

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right.

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch.

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation.

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

[email protected] just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song.

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries.

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons.

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him.

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough.

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second.

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?”

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red.

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles.

A small smirk makes its way onto your face.

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there.

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them.

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground.

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder.

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats.

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand.

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under.

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place. He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it.

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt.

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then.

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower.

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place.

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them.

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.”

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine.

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack.

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door.

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind.

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel.

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited.

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist.

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest.

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.”

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment.

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind.

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.”

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing.

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly.

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this.

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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1kook · 4 years

Text

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v wc; 4.6k

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

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midgardianweasley · 3 years

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Your grace! Bless us with a Natasha x reader where the team is invited to a wedding by a close friend of Tony’s. Then when the bridal bouquet is thrown, the bride throws it too hard where reader accidentally catches it and the team is just going “Oooooh!” And reader is like “I’m not even in a relationship!” But the team know in secret that reader and Natasha have feelings for each other but are too dumb to know. Just funniness and fluff! 🥰😍 (Your writing is brilliant btw!)

I loved this request!! I hope i did it justice <3

it’s a wedding thing

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

^idk Nat, you tell me^

Summary: When the Avengers get invited to a close friend of Tony's wedding, what hidden feelings will surface? What relationships will bloom? Who will be the next bride?

Warnings: none!

word count: 4.1k

Message/ask if you want to be added to the taglist!

requests are open loves

“Alright gang, this one’s for all of us, we all listening?”

A cluster of ‘yes’ ‘go on’ ‘come on Tony’ filled the room, everyone eager to hear what the fancy envelope held inside. It was amusing to watch Tony take advantage of everyone’s excitement, slowly peeling the envelope, gasping when he pulled the letter out of the casing slightly, not letting anyone else see what was written on it.

You, Natasha and Wanda all seemed to share a look of amusement at the dramatics and the almost visible frustration coming off of everyone. It was like watching children try to wait patiently for sweets in a shop, almost completely off of their seats. It wasn’t until Tony noticed that Pepper was giving him a warning look, that he, begrudgingly, hurried up and announced what was written on the letter.

“Wow. Caleb’s getting married.” He spoke, eyebrows raised in surprise. “And he’s invited the team.”

“Well, I’m not going.” A voice spoke from the corner of the room, clearly un-amused by what was currently going on.

“Luckily for you, I don’t see ‘reindeer games’ anywhere on the invitation. So you’re off the hook.” He replied with a tight lipped smile, Thor had been visiting recently to see Jane and pay the avengers a visit and wanted to bring Loki to meet her.

‘A pleasant trip’ Thor said.

‘A living hell’ Tony corrected.

It got a laugh out of the team though. Nat and I especially. We’d spent the last couple of nights in each other’s bedrooms, making a list about our favourite moments through the day where Tony and Loki clashed, making stupid insults towards the other. I think it’s safe to say that we went through multiple bags of popcorn over the nights, though you were both thankful it was there, it was the only thing muffling the laughter, if it hadn't, you’re almost certain the entire compound would have woken up at the sound of our laughter.

You nudged Natasha’s side gently, the bicker between the two men still continuing.

“Hey, Nat.” She turned and tilted her head questioningly.

“So we know how a physical fight between those two worked out. But, if they had to compete in a rap battle, who do you think would win?”

Her face immediately lit up, eyes sparkling which only enhanced their beauty, you could almost feel the cogs turning in her head, trying to go through every logical option.

“Well. Loki seems pretty well spoken, so vocabulary wise, I think he’d be strong. But Tony is sarcastic which can help with quick quips. But then again, Loki-”

“Hey lovebirds, Romanoff, Y/L/N” Tony clicked his fingers, earning himself a pair of eyerolls at the term he’d used. “Anything you wanna share with the team, or can we move on?”

“Actually-”

“Overridden. Moving on.”

You looked towards Natasha, snickering slightly at how blunt he’s being, Loki having found his way under his skin again. A part of you felt bad for the man, but that feeling is soon replaced by amusement. It was obvious Nat felt the same way, her sharing the same expression as you, although, you could hide yours much better. She had to physically put her hand over her mouth in the hopes the man wouldn’t notice her.

“So, the wedding is next week, a little short notice but when do we ever have enough notice, who’s in?”

Looking around the room, there were a handful of nods, each looking to see who else was going to go. You looked towards Nat again to see if she was planning on attending, only to find her already staring at you.

“So Y/L/N, up for a wedding?”

“It would be a nice change of pace. Are you going?”

“Only if you are” You blushed slightly at the response.

“Better get your nicest dress on Romanoff.” You winked, her turn to blush and focus back on what the rest of the group was saying.

“It’s probably easy if I list couples first on the RSVP and then the singles.” Tony took a glance around the table, mentally taking note of those who had shown signs of agreement. “So there’ll be Wanda and Vision, Legolas and his wife, Romanoff and Y/L/N, Thor and Jane-” You felt your face morph into one of confusion.

“Woah woah, Tony, back up, what did you say?”

“Thor and Jane, they’re-”

“Before that.”

“I’ve said this before Y/N, Legolas isn’t actually real. I meant Clint.”

“Very funny.” He held a proud smirk. “Romanoff and I aren’t a couple”

You wish.

“That’s not what Rogers said when he saw you both cuddling up on the sofa last night.” Before you had a chance to look in Steve’s direction, you could practically feel the daggers Nat was sending him, making his face cringe slightly and his back straighten.

“That’s what Rogers said, is it?” She spoke, tilting her head in question. You knew she was partly joking, but you’d still decided to intervene before anyone lost any limbs.

“My head fell onto her shoulder when I dozed off during our movie. It wasn’t ‘cuddling’ , thank you very much.” You laughed, internally wishing that Steve’s words were true.

“See? So cut it out.” Steve put his hands up in surrender, despite having a cheeky grin on his face.

“Okay okay. Fine!” The billionaire said, writing something on the envelope. “I’ll just put ‘couple pending’” He muttered

“Stark!”

__________________________

You and the girls had just come back from dress shopping, all three of you had spent the whole day in and out of different shops, hours in dressing rooms and your voices were almost completely gone with how often you were telling each other, ‘that looks stunning’ ‘that’s the one!’ and the most common one by the end of the trip; ‘please just pick a dress so we can go home and nap’. That one was from our very own black widow, her patience wore a little thin after 8 hours of staring at dresses.

You had gone through all the colours and styles while you were out, ranging from classy jumpsuits to figure hugging dresses that felt like a second skin. Wanda and Natasha had chosen their dresses and were eager to find you one, and what a mission that was.

“I promise you, we’re not going home until we find this dress, okay?”

“Wanda’s right. We’ll stay out until they all shut if we have to. But, let’s make that a last resort.” Natasha eyed you both warily.

You’d been walking around for hours now. Each dress you tried on had potential, but there was always something that didn’t sit right with you. It was either too baggy, too tight, the cut wasn’t appealing, the length wasn’t ideal, it was starting to feel hopeless. You’d even suggested just going in your pyjamas, but Wanda’s death glare had made it clear that wasn’t an option.

You and Natasha were both dragging your feet, Wanda still having a slight spring in her step as you walked into the final shop and picking up a couple of dresses before then going into the dressing room to try them on.

The first two were okay, but you weren’t a fan. Then there was the third one. The third one was a gorgeous Y/F/C dress that fell just past your knees, it had thin straps and the skirt was simple and loose so that when you spun around in it, you felt like a princess. You looked in the mirror and you adored the reflection, you still wanted the others opinions though, though you didn’t doubt that they’d feel the same way.

Pulling the curtain back and gaining their attention from where they were looking elsewhere, you smiled when you saw their reaction, more specifically, Natasha’s. Wanda was complimentary, walking up and feeling the fabric, gushing about how beautiful you looked, but you barely heard it, too focused on the redhead sitting in front of you, her eyes glazed over and her jaw almost on the floor, completely zoned out on you.

“This dress is it, Y/N, you have to get it! Nat? What do you think?” Her head shook, bringing herself back to reality and briefly meeting your eyes, only to quickly dart between You, Wanda and your dress in an attempt to compose herself.

“Yeah, I mean, wow, you look- wow.” Her hands flailed in your direction. You’d knocked the assassin speechless. Wanda rolled her eyes playfully at the interaction. She’d known about you and Nat’s feelings for each other for a month or two now, silently cursing the both of you when there was an opportunity to confess, yet never did. It was obvious to the rest of the team, why were neither of you picking up on it?

Keeping quiet, she ushered you back into the changing room, much to Natasha’s relief, both because she wanted to head back to the compound and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would’ve lasted seeing you standing there looking literally flawless. She always thought you looked amazing, but there was something about the way you looked in front of her just then that made her brain feel like a haze.

It was pretty safe to say,

You bought the dress.

Collapsing on your bed, dropping your bags to the side and letting out a loud sigh, you heard your door shut and someone fall into the chair by the window. You already knew who it was.

“I’m exhausted.” The woman groaned, rubbing her hands up and down her face to attempt to physically remove the tiredness from her body.

“Sorry for dragging you around for so long, I just-”

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for that. We all said we’d find the perfect dress, and it was worth the wait.” Heat rose to your cheeks at her words.

“You really think I looked good?”

Natasha could sense your underlying tone of doubt, unsure as to why you would doubt her opinion, she’d always been honest with you. Nonetheless, she heaved herself out of her seat and made her way to the end of the bed, kneeling down so that your now sat up figure could look down into her eyes, with her hands on each side of your face to focus you on her and her alone.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, okay? You looked incredible and I'm sure you’ll look even better at this wedding on Saturday, if that’s even possible.” You let out a small chuckle at her words as a smile made its way onto her face.

“You’ll be the prettiest one there.”

“Better not tell the Bride you said that, Nat.” She laughed, looking down for only a few seconds before looking at you again.

“We’ll make that our secret.” You nodded in silent agreement, grateful that she’d made you feel so reassured.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

“You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.” She replied.

You were so lost in her words, you hadn’t realised how close her face had gotten to yours, and how her eyes swapped between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how she subconsciously had kept edging towards you, hands trembling a little with every inch closer she gets.

She wanted to kiss you. Every nerve in her body was almost electrified with the temptation to just move her lips over yours and become one. Her pulse raced, almost to prepare her for doing so. Which is why she wanted to kick herself with a pair of her highest heels when she uttered her next words.

“We should get some sleep.”

You broke out of your trance, jumping backwards slightly when noticing limited space between you both. You awkwardly coughed as she stood, heading back over to her chair to grab her bag and return to her room.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Big today, rest is probably a good idea.” You both nodded, she was already one foot out of the door when she gave you a small ‘goodnight’ and left, not waiting to hear you say it back.

Just like you hadn’t realised her actions early, you were oblivious to her hitting her head off of the wall in the corridor just outside of your room, wondering why she’d backed away. Where was Thor’s hammer when you needed to knock some sense into yourself? She thought before dragging herself back to her room where she would fall asleep, unable to get you out of her head.

_________________________

“Right! Headcount before we go in! And I want us all on our best behaviour Avengers, this is a wedding” Steve had completely lost you after ‘Headcount’. Not only are most of you fully grown adults, sorry Peter, but he seems to be oblivious to the fact that some of you were wearing high heels, and patience in high heels had an expiry date.

“Y’know, if he doesn’t let us in soon, I’m not afraid to threaten him with his own shield.” You heard a whisper just behind your ear, smirking at the comment.

“I’ll join you.” You answered, Bruce and Clint sharing a knowing look from afar when watching the two of you have your own quiet conversation, though short lived when they saw Natasha’s head move in their direction, their gaze coming to a halt so as to avoid any conflict with their teammate.

You guys could try to hide it all you want, but your entire team knows better than that, they just had to wait it out until you both finally admitted it to the other.

______________________

You and the Avenger’s were currently sitting at a guest table, now in the reception part of the evening. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride wore a crisp white ball gown with her makeup and hair done to perfection, the groom looking like a prince in his black tux and a look full of adoration towards his wife to be painted on his face.

Their looks weren’t the best part of it though. The clothes and the accessories were lovely, of course. But all you could focus on was the love shared between them as they shared their vows telling the other how they believed they were each other's soulmate, and that they promised to always be the other’s rock. You’d found yourself with tears in your eyes, barely able to appreciate the sight with how blurry your vision was now. They finally fell when they said their ‘I do’s’, feeling only happiness for the newlyweds.

Although marriage hadn’t been something you always thought about, you’d hoped that you would meet your special someone and settle down, retire from the missions, the battles, the superhero lifestyle and just be with your soulmate for the rest of your days.

Despite not being a couple, whenever you thought of the person you wanted to spend the rest of your time with, there was only one person that came to mind. And she stood right in front of you throughout the ceremony, comforting a sobbing demi-god while he was also trying to explain to Vision why he was in floods of tears.

Music filled the room, upbeat, but calm enough for the couples on the dancefloor to sway gently to the beat, soft lights occasionally shining on them as they danced, the bride and groom being one of them. You smiled gently at the sight, feeling dreadfully single with all of the love in the room, but grateful that you could see so many people look so content and in love with their significant other.

An elbow could suddenly be felt in your side, pulling you from your thoughts to instead be met with gorgeous green eyes and a bold red smirk.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She leaned in, curiosity clouding her mind.

“Nothing much up there really.” You glanced back at the dance floor quickly. “I’m just happy to see everyone so happy.”

Natasha followed your direction of where you were looking, an idea soon popped into her head. She was going to ask you to dance.

Her mouth opened to speak, but as if it was done on purpose, a ‘screech’ echoed in the ballroom, catching everyone’s attention, including taking yours away from hers.

“We’re taking a break from dancing for a minute folks, It’s time for the bride to throw the bouquet!” He announced, soon followed by shrieks and the sound of feet padding on the wooden floor, women all gathering in a small bunch, huddled together as if their lives depended on it as the men all returned to their seats, shaking their heads at the commotion.

Not really wanting to take part, you turned back around again.

“Sorry Nat, what were you-”

“Y/N!” Your head fell as you were interrupted by a very excited Maximoff.

“Y/N! C’mon! We need to do the bouquet toss!” She started to pull you up, refusing to listen to any excuse you could possibly conjure up to avoid having to take part.

Giving the team a desperate look, hoping someone will help you escape, you’re instead met with encouraging and amused faces, including Natasha’s a clear indication that not a single person was going to help you. Traitor’s.

With a half serious eye roll, you quickly grabbed your glass of champagne and kicked off your heels, heading towards the group of screaming women basically crawling on top of one another when the bride was barely up on the ‘stage’ yet. You let Wanda wander off into the group but remained towards the back, sipping from your glass and sending the occasional sneaky glare towards your table.

“You guys ready?” The bride yelled, only to be met with more screams and a faint chorus of ‘yes’ heard among it as they all threw their hands higher. Wanda saw you were just stood there, and subtly used her powers to raise your hand, earning loud laughs and cheers from the Avengers, taking great joy in the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Okay! Three...Two..”

You kept your arm up, pretending to be enthusiastic about the toss, when you realistically didn’t really expect much from these kinds of traditions. What you definitely hadn’t expected, was for your figure to stumble backwards as you suddenly felt petals and stems in your palm, a faint feeling of silk brushing against your thumb as your fingers wrapped around the item.

You almost spat out your champagne, eyes widening in shock as you looked to see the arrangement of flowers in your grip, looking up to see women both disheartened and elated at your catch. How the hell had you managed that? You were literally the farthest person away, and on your own! You must’ve been set up. Okay, a bit of a stretch, but still!

“WOOO, Y/L/N IS GETTING MARRIED!”

“WHO’S THE LUCKY SOMEONE Y/N?”

“Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS, Y/N CAUGHT THE FLOWERS.”

The bride noticeably laughed at your friend’s cheers, she hadn’t meant to throw it that far back, her arm just kinda went full force, but seeing the reaction it caused, she didn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when she saw the look of embarrassment on your face, as it was soon replaced with a contagious beam as you walked towards them again, a very proud Wanda in tow,

“Guys! Guys! I’m not even in a relationship! I highly doubt i’m the next woman in this room to get married.” You joked

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Sam laughed “Romanoff, you got an engagement ring handy?” He yelped as a peanut from the centre of the table was thrown at him, and of course with being a trained assassin, Nat had hit him right in the centre of his forehead, earning a dramatic noise of pain to leave his mouth.

These guys will be the death of you.

__________________

After some teasing, the room had filled once again with happy couples dancing, now including some you were very familiar with, one being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist and his CEO wife, and another being an Asgardian with his Midgardian girlfriend, both gently moving side to side in time with the music.

Letting out a content sigh, you were met once again with the flowers, however, this time, they weren’t on the table, but were held by a gorgeous woman in a flawless navy dress.

“So, I know we aren’t a couple, but, would the future bride like to dance?” She asked, you let out a content sigh, pretending to think it over for a minute.

“Y’know what, I would, thank you for your kind offer.” You took the hand she’d held out for you and led you to the dance floor. While her hands went to your waist, gently tugging you closer, your arms went around her neck, hands interlocking behind her as you, like the others you’d admired all even, swayed.

You’re unsure when it happened, much like a time before, but your head had made its way onto your dance partner's shoulder, your body following suit as it left no room between the two of you, though you weren’t complaining. Neither was the fellow Avenger.

It was peaceful for a period of time, the only sound being the slow music and a quiet chatter of people across the floor. It wasn’t long before you heard the red head above you whisper in your ear once again.

“You really do look amazing tonight, Y/N.” You raised your head so it was directly opposite hers, sending her an appreciative gaze.

“That future fiance of yours is lucky.” She winked.

“Hilarious” You scoffed, fully aware of her humorous tone.

“I know, sometimes I amaze even myself with my jokes.”

“Well, it really is funny, because I honestly don’t see myself getting married anytime soon.” Nat’s eyebrows raised in what could almost be described as confusion.

“And why is that? Do you not want to get married?” Her hands started grazing up and down your waist, like she was comforting you, but really she was bracing herself for what was incoming.

“No, no it’s not that. I just..”

“Just?”

“I don’t think the person i’m interested in, is necessarily interested in me.” Her heart dropped. So you did have someone of interest. She pushed the sinking feeling to the side quickly so that she could respond.

“Right, and why is that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them make a move. I thought it’d be obvious. I think it has been to some others.” Your eyes wandered, lingering for longer than what was probably appropriate, on Natasha’s plump lips, wondering if you’d ever get to experience what it’d be like to feel them on yours.

This time, Natasha didn’t miss it. She would’ve blamed it on alcohol, saying that she must’ve just imagined it, but she had only consumed a few drops all evening, being too entranced by you didn’t leave much room for hydration. She hadn’t been more thankful, because it made a light bulb go off in her head as the pieces came together in her head of who you were referring to. She didn’t make a move the other night. It was obvious to the team. How could she have been so blind?

You didn’t see it coming, even when your chin was held in her grasp and you saw her face leaning in towards yours, the reality only hitting you when you finally felt what you’d been wanting to feel for the last months, right now. Your surroundings had just disappeared, the only thing that was running through your head, was the way her lips were moving against yours, and the way her lips tasted faintly of vanilla, and how she smelled like her floral perfume she wore for special occasions.

Whooping and cheering brought you both back from your bubble with just the two of you, your head falling just below her chin, her hand stroking your back as you could feel her chuckle bubbling where your head lay. Well, hid. Her arms had muffled their comments, but you had an idea of what they were, probably a mixture of ‘finally!’, ‘i knew it!’ and you’re almost certain you heard a ‘You owe me 20 bucks.’, that one making you shake your head.

Remaining in your hiding spot, that wasn’t very well hidden, but was keeping your bright red face to yourself, a pair of familiar lips lingered right beside your head.

“So, about that bouquet..”

You weren’t getting married, but by the end of the night, you definitely didn’t feel so dreadfully single as you had earlier.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

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ivyglow · 3 years

Text

Mine | Anthony Beauvillier

A/n: this idea came after we had a very sexy- I mean- Angry* Anthony pushing Sidney Crosby. Barbie and some anons send the good energy and so althought it took me forever here it is *cheers*. A huge thank you for @barbienoturbby for sending me some specific ideas (sharpies, choking etc hehehe), putting up w my random messages in the middle of the night or being a insecure bitch, ILY BARBIE! Huge shout out to @sebs-aston for proofreading this so fast *you’re amazing, liv!*. PS. More than ever I’m gonna need your feedback because I’m an insecure bitch and this is my first time writing smut (freddie was thigh riding, I don’t consider it too much). So please just lmk if you like it or hate it <3

Word count: 4k

Warnings: smut, mention of chocke, spitting, oral -female receiving- and all those dirty stuff.

Summary: after getting angry on the ice, you decide to make Anthony angry in bed too.

You knew Tito was a dom in bed as soon as you met him: he helped you to sit and to get up on your first date, and he led you to your car with his hand on your lower back. One month into getting to know each other, you were planning a gathering with his friends and he was the one to assign everyone with a task. Some days he would use fewer words and stick with hand gestures or eye contact to tell you what he wanted or what he was silently saying.

So when you two had sex for the first time and he was on top, you were not surprised, you also weren’t surprised when he asked how would you feel about hair pulling, choking, and tying. And, well, you’d never tried any of this, so you were honest with him, knowing that honesty was the key to make things work. He promised to go slow, and he watched you intently while he did everything just to make sure you were comfortable. You can still remember how it felt when he first stretched you, how your heel went to his back to accommodate his waist better, how this movement gave him the perfect angle to go all the way until the end.

You also remember the hickeys he left on your skin, mostly on places where your clothes could hide, but some you knew he purposely made for people to see. And people saw, indeed and also heard. He got a noise complaint twice because his old bed would scratch and bang on the wall, and that wouldn’t be a huge problem if it was anyone else, but it was Anthony, a hockey player, at that point -your boyfriend-, and he had the stamina to go for hours. A chug of water, maybe a fruit snack, and less than twenty minutes later he was ready to go again - or he would use these twenty minutes to get you off with his mouth and fingers. So the noise complaint was very much expected.

Now six months into the relationship, this wasn’t a problem anymore. Tito bought a new bed, and even talked with a friend about the possibility of getting soundproof walls. That’s why you were drinking your water and eating one of his energy bars while watching the game. The dynamic after games was usually very sexual, it didn’t matter if he was on the road or at home, you would find a way to get off, either phone sex or spicy pics. He never left you to your own hands.

The Isles were playing against the Penguins and you knew he was pissed off because of their losing streak against that team. That made him angry with some specifics players too. When he got home last night, you just cuddled together and went to sleep, he was tired and fuming because of their loss, and he probably heard a handful by his coach. Because of those losses, you knew he was going to skate his way around the ice tonight more than ever, and, especially, that he was angry.

You were laying on his couch when the game started, the Isles skating around the ice in a way you would have bet was a premonition for another loss, but ten minutes in things started to go differently, and that was the exact moment when you sat and gripped Beau’s shirt before an amazing shot hit the Pens’ net. They kept the rhythm on for the next two periods, although they were pretty much stressful- a handful of times you caught yourself holding your breath or cursing. The last two were also a stage for your boyfriend’s anger. He was pissed in a way you’d never seen before on the ice, and when Sidney Crosby pushed Pulock, Tito had had enough and shoved the opposition’s player on the ice. Torn between finding it hot or funny, you chose the latter letting out a loud laugh. Yet, when another exchange of pushes happened between the Pens’ superstar and Beau you sure felt the heat taking up space inside your body and you shifted on the couch. There was another goal and the game kept on providing stress and anxiety for the fans, but you were stuck on the scene your boyfriend had just put up.

He was usually like this in bed, but not that much on the ice, and seeing that happening outside the four walls left you with a lingering warmth inside your body, and not the cute warmth you usually felt when he cooked for you or told you how much he loved you. But the warmth you got whenever he bent you on the kitchen counter or held your hand tight while going down on you.

It was past midnight when you heard the door open and close, the soft click making your heart beat faster. He was home. You heard the thud of his bag on the floor and his steps bringing his scent closer to the living room where you were sitting on the couch wearing only his jersey and his favorite lace.

“Hey you, winner,” your voice echoed in the dimly lit apartment and you could see his lips curling in a small smile.

“Hey, babe,” his lips found yours on a quick peck and you looked up for more contact, but Anthony was already walking to the kitchen.

“Are you ok?” you asked, barefoot padding the floor until you reached the stool.

Your boyfriend was already busy cutting some bananas in a bowl, “Yeah, just a little stressed with the game and hungry,” he answered.

“But you won,” you stated in confusion.

His eyes scanned you for a second before going back to his task. The silence was everything you needed to know: he really was not in the mood for long talks after the episode, but you were a woman on a mission and you knew exactly what to do to get Anthony riddled up.

“You guys had a great game…” you began, cautious with your words and actions, hands reaching for a banana on the fruit bowl. “How was playing against Sidney Crosby?”

You saw how his eyebrows raised slightly before pouring honey on his bowl and whipping his fingers with his tongue. You knew the action wasn’t supposed to be filthy, yet you’ve been dating him long enough to know that he knew every action of his could be seen as sexual at some point.

“It was normal, he’s a normal hockey player like any of us,” his tone is nonchalant.

You suppress a grin, “he’s not like any of you, he’s Sidney Crosby. Just last night he reached his thousandth game,” Tito’s now chewing on his fruit and you can see how the motion seems tighter after your words, still you keep going, “he’s like a superstar! I would love to meet him any of these days…” you trail off busying yourself on biting the banana you just peeled off. His eyes trained on how your lips wrap around the piece of fruit, your tongue purposely darting out. Your boyfriend chooses silence again and you huff rolling your eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he queries, eyes on his bowl, jaw still clenched tight while biting another piece of his fruit. You dart your eyes in another direction while biting your banana again, this time without so much care on giving him a hard time. “I asked you a question, y/n,” his tone was sharp and his voice low. You shake your head.

He grabs his water bottle before chugging half of the content, “Cat got your tongue? I swear I just saw you poking it out while eating that banana to provoke me,” he tauntingly gives you a defiant look.

Anthony motions for you to come to him and you follow his orders willingly, eager to finally have your way with him. You’re within arm’s reach when he tugs you closer, making you stumble in the middle of his big thighs. In a blink of an eye, you feel the sting on your butt cheeks, his big hands finding it again one more time before grabbing your chin. “You can’t even wait for your man to eat,” it’s a low grunt and he seems more annoyed with your playful smile, and you see the perfect opportunity to tease him a little bit more, “You could eat something else, there’s nothing stopping you…”

With that Anthony seems to lose his judgment before swinging your body on top of the counter, “you’re being such a brat tonight” his hands grab your butt squeezing it hard, “that’s not how you get the things you want”

“No? Then why are you about to fuck me?” you mock him knowing damn right that this would only make him go harder on you.

“Crisse,” (holy shit) his French accent makes your pussy throb. You loved when he talked in French to you.

His big hand pushes you back in a swift motion, the same hand spreads your legs for him, and it’s only a second before you’re fully laying on the counter. Still wearing only a lace thong and his jersey, you know the former is about to be ripped out of you. Anthony drags his fingers from the bottom of your belly to your breasts before gifting you a devilish smirk as soon as he notices you’re not wearing a bra.

“You think Sidney Crosby is the superstar, but you know damn well I’m gonna be the reason why you’re seeing stars tonight,” he whispers before sitting on the stool and kissing up to your thighs. His lips are sticky from the honey and because they’re cold it sends chills running through your warm body. You stretch your arms to reach his hair and he hums grabbing your wrists harshly, “no hair pulling for you tonight,” his murmurs hit your skin and you let out a small whine.

In order to play with your sensations, you see him taking a long gulp of his cold water. You know it will make his mouth colder and slicker, and you know he’s only doing it because he’s planning to spend a long time between your legs.

And that he does.

You sigh when his lips finally reach your pussy, the shock it causes is good and you can’t help but close your thighs in an attempt to bring him where you are really yearning for his lips. Nevertheless, that’s not what he has planned for you, and he drags his mouth between your pussy lips long before finally wrapping his lips on your clit and humming in pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” you let out a whine when his fingers reach for your nipple and twist it hard. His wet tongue flickered on your clit and he dived in deeper, making you feel all of him, from his stubble that was starting to grow to his full lips, you could feel it all.

“Anthony,” you try to form a sentence in the exact moment he pushs one finger inside of you, but your voice comes out as a prayer. A plea for more.

You were a sinner for him.

“You taste so good,” it’s a pleasure mumble and it comes just before his palm strikes your butt cheeks in a firm slap. “I could spend days here, bébé”

“Anthony,” you try again and this time he laughs with his lips still wrapped around your clit. The vibrations send shivers through your whole body, your toes curl and you try to reach for his hair again before his hand holds both of your wrists.

You’re close and he knows it because he adds another finger and curls it. It’s a ‘come here’ motion and from another dimension, you were almost able to hear him whisper the same words in French.

“Give it to me,” he demands, and you do as said just as another finger hits your right spot. For some seconds the kitchen’s ceiling turns black with dots and your vision goes blurry. Toes curling, the pitch on your belly button finally making its way out just like the curses and moans that leave your mouth. Most of them being his name and how good he makes you feel.

You’re not even done with your high when his big hands grab your ankles bringing your body to the edge of the counter and making you sit. “Open your mouth,” he demands.

You moan, eyes rolling back from pleasure, “put your tongue out for me, má chérie,” his hands, now holding your jaw, tighten around you. There’s a whimper of bliss and you part your lips wide bringing your tongue out just like demanded before he spits on your mouth.

“See how good you taste?!” Anthony hums and you swallow it before poking your tongue out again and licking from his glistering chin to his lips. The action fuels a passionate kiss and it’s seconds before your weak legs wrap themselves around his waist bringing him closer. Your core finds the bulge on his pants and you whimper feeling aroused again.

Your boyfriend is fast to grasp the underside of your thighs bringing your body close to his before making his way towards the bedroom. You take your time licking and kissing his neck and jaw until your body hits the mattress and he’s unbuckling his belt.

“Take it off” he commands, unbuttoning his dress shirt. You’re fast to obey taking off the jersey you’re wearing, now you’re fully naked in front of him.

“Hands,” you put both of your wrists together and he fastens his belt around it tight.

From the way his eyebrows were slightly up to his lips parted, you knew he was about to give you another orgasm, you knew that he wasn’t done and he wouldn’t be any time soon.

“Do we have a safe word tonight, bébé?” his full lips find your jaw and neck and he nibbles on your ear before sucking harshly on your neck again.

His purpose is to mark you, not only where people can see, but also where they can’t. Just like your waist is being held with such fierceness, you know it’ll leave prints there. You hum a yes dropping your head to the side so he can have more access to your skin, “use your words, you know I need to hear you say it,” he whispers now bringing his mouth to your nipples and biting it lightly. You whimper, “our safe word is blue.”

“Perfect,” you can feel his smile on your skin and when you reach for his hair with your hands tied, he pushes them up. His strong arm swings on top of your belly and he takes his time on your breasts before making his way lower. There’s a pitch bubbling on your belly again just with the idea of it and he gives you mischievous grim kissing and licking your thighs.

“Beau,” you whine already feeling your legs weakening again.

“I told you I was hungry, you were the one who suggested the meal,” the funny remark is accompanied by a flicker of his tongue on your cunt. “Now I’ll only stop when I’m satisfied.”

You curse closing your hands and trying to bring your waist up. He shakes his head, “huh huh, that’s a bad girl attitude,” he spits on your pussy and you moan loud, “and you know exactly what we do to bad girls in this house, don’t you?”

You nod and he chuckles.

“Words.”

“I know, sir.”

“Now, there’s my good girl,” he praises finding your clit and holding it carefully between his teeth, “now give it to me just like you suggested,” he murmurs before diving on your pussy, his tongue gentle and slow, in contrast with his solid arm pinning you to the bed and his rough behavior.

It would be a long ride and you would feel every step taken, because each one would bring you closer to the inevitable. You felt urgency though; you wanted him to fuck your brains out already. But Anthony took his time, and you knew he was being good because he let you cum in the kitchen even after you provoked him. When his point finger entered you, your eyes couldn’t focus and you knew you were closer, yet instead of giving you a release, your boyfriend took his kisses to your thighs grinning at you one more time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he speaks under his breath, eyes trained on your pussy. Yet you don’t feel ashamed, because it’s Anthony, and he knows you like the back of his hands, he knows what to do to make you comfortable and he knows how to make you feel good. He would praise and love your body rightly, so you let him. You spread your legs wider and gave him a lopsided smile.

“Please,” you plead again that night; however, he follows your request this time.

Anthony dives in again, licking and spitting, flickering his tongue and using his fingers. Giving you what he got and what he knows you like. Your body is fast to answer, your waist trying to go higher to find his mouth, your toes curling, your head shooting back and your eyes rolling.

He got you there. Fast.

And he made sure to ride you out of you high, this tongue not the least careful with your sensitive bud, while cleaning you up he kept licking it lightly. Full lips brushing it with dedication.

“Now I want you on all fours,” there’s a dirty smile on his glistering lips and you hold back another moan with the image of Anthony sitting between your legs, face glowing with your cum, “allos y,” (c’mon). You turn your body, holding your hands before supporting your head on the pillows, ass up for him.

There’s the noise of a slap and the sting on your butt cheeks, right before a soft kiss is placed on top of the surely red mark. His hands roam around your body and you shiver when he grabs your hair. “Crisse, tu as l'air si chaud,” (holy shit, you look so hot) Anthony slaps you booty again and finally slips his finger at your entrance feeling your wetness pool around. You’re already ready for him again and he seems pleased with the realization. So pleased it doesn’t take long for him to slip inside of you hitting just the right spot. Your body shots upward and he holds you by your waist keeping your butt bent.

“Anthony,” you moan loudly when he starts moving ruthlessly inside of you. There’s something hot about how his body is being aggressive and you are taking it all, how his hips are almost knocking your body down, “right - fucking - there,” you whine and he keeps going, this time grabbing your hair and making your body lean towards him.

“Whose name are you screaming tonight, bébé?” he mumbles bending his own body on top of yours without completely letting go of the position.

“Yours,” your answer between groans.

“Let me hear you”

And you do.

You say his name out loud and clear, and you’re almost sure the neighbors are going to hear it. Yet you do it again and again while the sound of your voice is mixed with the noise of his skin hitting your skin and his feral grunts. He’s big and hard inside you and every time he goes out to get inside again you can feel your pussy stretching out to accommodate him.

“Beau,” you moan and he chuckles leaning his body down to kiss your back. You see from the corner of your eyes when he finds the black marker on the top of your drawer, you can almost see his head working on ideas, and then he’s grabbing the sharpie you were using to write on your sticky notes earlier today.

His body is straight up again and his movements are now slower, as he unclasps the marker and you feel its cold material hit your skin. There’s a long up and then down movement, you’re almost sure it’s an M, and then there’s a harsh line of an I, you can hear his grunts louder and he stops himself for a second before shooting his body towards yours again. The sharpie finds your skin again, this time to draw an N, you knew he was doing it big, not only for his eyes, but for you to feel and to know exactly what it was as he wrote the last letter, an E.

You roll your eyes when he closes and throws the sharpie somewhere in the room before leaving another one of his blows on your butt cheeks. Anthony swings his arm around your torso bringing you up to him, your back hitting his solid chest, “you’re mine,” and that’s what it takes for you to come undone on his still hard cock. Your whole body trembles and your vision goes blurry again, there are tears in your eyes, and this time your moans turn into screams of satisfaction.

He keeps fucking you through your high and you curse dropping your head back on his shoulder. His hand sneaks in front of your body to touch your sensitive clit, and you hold it sinking your nails on his skin. “Oh fuck,” he grunts drawing his finger deeper. You’re not sure if your body can’t take so much pleasure.

“Let me ride you,” it’s a prayer, a plea, a cry, and you can feel his lips on your neck before your bodies are turned and you’re on top taking him deeper, touching new spots.

“That’s it, bébé,” he praises you and you roll your hips using your last energies. His hands find their way to your thighs and his short nails dig on your skin bringing you impossibly closer. There’s a deep grunt from him and a small whine from you. It’s hard for your eyes to focus, and you use your body to pin his down and your tied hands find his neck before squeezing it. His hips shot up under you and you scream, tightening your grip on him and squeezing his dick inside of you.

You can feel another knot on the pitch of your belly, but this time it feels different to recognize this new sensation. That’s when you notice the wetness under you dripping onto his cock to his belly button and in the bed.

“Fuck,” he moans, “Oh shit, you’re squirting,” his big hands go to your back and he keeps shooting his hips up to meet your pussy, “that’s it, bébé, give it to me once more,” and you’re squeezing him one last time before giving both of you a mind-blowing orgasm. Your body tumbles on top of his and this time things go pitch black instead of blurry. You can still feel his hot body under you and his rapid heartbeat, but your body is fluttering and there’s nothing in front of you. There’s only his body. There’s only your boyfriend existing under you with his cock still deep inside of you.

It’s seconds before his caresses on your back become some kind of poking, “y/n?”

“Huh?” you mumble, your voice raspy. He chuckles.

“Fuck, you passed out,” he sounds proud and you giggle.

“That was the best sex we’ve ever had,” you confess without finding the strength to move your hands and caress him back, but Anthony keeps the tip of his fingers moving softly around your body, “I think I should talk more about Sidney Crosby, huh?” you joke and his hips shot upward making you moan Anthony’s name. Although he just came, he’s still hard and deep inside your soaked pussy.

“What were you saying?” he questions with a smug grin. “I think you were saying something about a certain player, Sidney Crosby maybe?”

You arch your eyebrows, “who’s Sidney Crosby? I only know Anthony Beauvillier,” and he laughs at your answer before kissing your lips softly. You know there’s gonna be a time for water and a fruit snack later and then he’s going again, because he’s never done until you’re completely wrecked, the only name able to escape your lips being his.

Taglist: @smit41 @mybrokenshitthoughts @linasobsessions @hoiyheadharpies @barbienoturbby @barzysandmarnersbitch @elitebarzal @fallinallincurls @starswin @sortagaysortahigh If you wanna be added to my taglist you can send my your user in here

If you want to read more of my works here’s my masterlist and if you want to support my writing hit the reblog and like button <3 feel free to send me a pm or an ask telling me what you thought about this piece!

#anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier smut #melinda writes smutty #hockey smut #mels writing #smut

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salemorbit · 3 years

Text

Do-Over

[Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro Hero!Reader]

warnings: angst y'all i'm feeling angsty; ends with fluff hehe; it's a LONG one boys!!

~~~~~~~

in which you and bakugou hit a speed bump in your relationship

~~~~~~~

You dropped your keys on the table next to your door, slamming it shut with a sigh. You grimaced as you turned awkwardly to strip off your jacket, your shoulder twinging with pain from a minor injury during your recent scuffle.

The apartment was dark, not a soul around to greet you or wait up for you at such an hour. And that was fine, that was how you lived. But deep down inside, at this moment, you felt a pang in your chest that took the shape of a specific blond haired fireball.

Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you unlocked it and let your thumb glide instinctively to the contact that you talked to the most. You pressed the call button and held the phone to your ear, slipping off your shoes gratefully.

It went to voicemail. Not even his mailbox was set up, just the automated number played in your ear. You let the robotic voice run through its mantra before leaving a message at the tone.

"Hey, it's me. I just got home. I...just wanted to make sure you were okay." You fiddled with your belt. "Call me when you get this."

You clicked end and slid your phone on the counter, leaving it be while you undressed from your work clothes. You cradled your whining shoulder as you slid off your shirt and tossed it aside, mentally making a note to do laundry later.

The past few days at your hero agency had been hard. There were so many hoodlums and villains clogging up your to-do list that you barely had time to call your boyfriend and make sure he was doing all right. It was radio silence from him nearly all week.

But you two had been busy. For some reason, this week was the one time that every baddie wanted to cause chaos. Or at least it felt like it. You slumped down on your dingy couch and stared at the ceiling. Hero work was exhausting, and you didn't even know if it paid off in the long run.

And just a few hours ago you were dealing with a messy explosion of villainy in the middle of your district. It was hard to keep the destruction in check, and you had gotten minorly injured in the process. Your sore shoulder was a scar to boot.

Katsuki had been there, in fact a few of his co-workers had been, too. But he didn't pay you any special attention. You didn't know if that bothered you or not.

Yes, you were both on the job and vowed not to let your relationship get in the way of your hero work as much as possible. On the other hand, you hadn't seen or spoken to Katsuki in a whole week, and the first time you had and he didn't even nod a greeting. What was his issue? It wasn't like you had gotten into an argument or anything.

Shuddering out of thought, you heard your phone buzz once on the counter. You got up and checked it, half expecting it to just be a junk mail message. You were surprised to see that it was a message from Katsuki himself.

I'm home. Goodnight.

You frowned. That was it? You called and left a message, he hadn't spoken to you all week, and all he sent was a three word text?

You didn't know what overcame you, but the frustration inside bubbled up and spilled over in an instant. You turned and activated your quirk out of pure adrenaline, chucking your phone across the room and sending it straight through the apartment wall and soaring into the street below.

That calmed you down quickly. You ran over to your window and threw up the sash, looking down and around for your shattered piece of a phone. But it was gone. You sighed heavily and shut the window, storming into your bedroom and falling into your sheets with a huff.

Now you needed a new phone and, quite possibly, a new boyfriend.

•••

The next day you were off of work, so you took a pain reliever for your shoulder and headed to the nearest phone store to get a new phone. After awkwardly explaining the situation to the clerk, you received a new model and decided to pay a visit to the one man who had gotten you so riled up in the first place.

Katsuki would've been lying if he said he wasn't relieved to see you on the other side of his door that afternoon. He'd had a tiring week, and honestly all he wanted to do was spend time with you and recharge for the most part before doing it all over again.

What he wasn't prepared for, however, was the frown on your face and the angry tapping of your foot as you stood in his doorway.

"You seem unbothered," you said shortly. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows and let himself get shoved aside as you bustled into his apartment.

"Who pissed in your cornflakes?" Katsuki muttered as he shut the door. You grit your teeth and crossed your arms, obviously unhappy, though Katsuki couldn't figure out why.

"Go look in the mirror and take a guess," you glowered. "What's your issue? Why haven't you returned any of my messages this week?"

"I've been busy, you know that," Katsuki crossed his arms as well, not allowing you to have an intimidation factor in this conversation. "This week was hell."

"It was busy for me, too, but I still made the time."

"What are you going on about, dunceface?"

"Your inability to communicate!" You threw your hands in the air. "I've been trying to check in on you this week, but you haven't responded, if at all. And you didn't call me back last night! Just a text? One? I wanted to make sure you were okay after that fight, and you didn't even humor me."

"So? I'm fine."

"I didn't know that," you stressed. Katsuki let out a breath, still not getting it, and this made you even more angry.

"I don't know where this sudden clinginess is coming from-"

"It's not being clingy!" You erupted. "Are you so dense that you haven't realized how checked-out you've been recently? I've given you multiple opportunities to pick up the slack. I've excused your behaviours, given you space, and respected your silence this entire time. You haven't given me anything to work with. It's called being concerned and trying to keep our relationship going, which you don't seem the least bit interested in doing."

"And what if I'm not?" Katsuki growled, just plain upset you were accusing him of things he wasn't doing, at least in his mind. "What would you do if I didn't want to keep this schtick up, huh?"

"Then I'd be wasting my time standing here," you snapped. "And I'd have wasted the last two years on you."

Katsuki felt something in his chest cry, shattering and splitting through the floor below his feet. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying his best not to set his living room on fire.

You were there. You were right there, somewhere you hadn't been for the last week. And yeah, he'll admit that maybe he's been a bit distant lately, and the sudden influx in hero-work definitely wasn't helping the situation either. But he was trying to deal with things he hadn't quite felt before, one of those things being his feelings for you.

As of recent, something had shifted in his gut. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, and it wasn't like he was going to consult Kirishima or Kaminari about this. God knows they'd just make fun of him for worrying about your relationship.

Did he feel ashamed? Was it embarrassing him that he felt like this for someone? Katsuki Bakugou didn't get embarrassed, so what was this?

"I think we're done here," you muttered, looking down to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. You slid around Katsuki to reach the door, but you were stopped by Katsuki grabbing your arm gently.

You jerked your arm from his grasp, turning to look at him with your chin held high, keeping your trembling lip from showing itself. Katsuki had something in his eyes that had never been there before, and you hated it. You hated that you couldn't read him anymore.

"I don't know you like I thought I did, Bakugou." He flinched at that one. "This was obviously a mistake. I'll see you around."

And you were out the door and out of his range, leaving Katsuki Bakugou to stand in his living room at a loss for words. Something he hadn't been ever since he first met you.

•••

You took the breakup terribly, to say the least.

Yes, you were technically the one who broke it off, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to do it. You didn't want to shut things down like that, but Katsuki had left you no choice. He wasn't getting it, and it felt like he was going to continue to not get it. You just couldn't spend your energy like that anymore.

Mina and Momo were there for you from the second you broke down at a bus stop and called them to pick you up. They were there in a split second, not pressuring you for information until you wanted to tell them.

They were more disappointed in Katsuki than mad. They didn't like how he hadn't been communicating things with you about how he felt or why he had been distant. You broke and told them how it had been going on like this for almost a month now, and this last week was just the tipping point. They backed your decision and got you anything you needed for the next few days, until you were able to be on your own and process the emotions you felt.

Katsuki hadn't tried to call you at all. No texts, emails, voicemails. Your phone was a dry desert, except for the concerned text Midoriya sent you after you assumed Mina and Momo had told him about the debacle. He offered to talk to Katsuki about it, but you declined. It was best to just let it be, let it sink in that Katsuki had messed up royally.

Meanwhile, the man in question was quiet for the next few days. His coworkers noticed his lack of remarks, his friends noticed his distant appearances. All Katuski had been doing since you walked out that door was think. He was thinking long and hard about what he wanted, where you fit into his life, and the way he had acted as of recent. This was quite possibly the most Katsuki had ever thought about anything; typically he was so sure on the get-go that he needn't time to stop and reflect.

But this was different. You were different.

It wasn't until the next Saturday after your breakup that Katsuki found himself on the other side of your apartment door, hand poised to knock. He decided he didn't want to do something like this over the phone; it was just too impersonal. So he mustered up the courage to face you again, and prayed you wouldn't throw him out of your four-story high window in the process.

He knocked, waited. No answer. Getting slightly annoyed, he knocked again, louder. Still no answer.

Katuski was now incredibly annoyed, and bent down to take the key from under your doormat and just unlock the damn thing himself. As he lifted the mat, he saw a slip of paper taped to the floor where the key should've been:

Don't try to break in. Calling the police is not below me.

Katsuki huffed, standing up and going to knock on the door again when he was interrupted by the rustling of paper bags. He turned over his shoulder and saw you standing on the opposite end of the hallway, holding some grocery bags in your arms and staring right at the blond standing on your doormat.

There was a tense few moments of silence before you broke it, audibly frustrated.

"Can you get out of the way so I can put these inside?" You frowned. Katsuki blinked, then moved aside to let you fumble your key in the lock dumbly.

"I can-"

"Shut up," was all you said before opening the door and letting it bang against the inside wall. Katuski stood on the threshold, unsure of if he should just walk in or not, before inviting himself in as soon as he figured you wouldn't give him the time of day. He watched from your counter as you passive aggressively slammed things on the counter or into their place in your kitchen.

"Care telling me why you're here?" You asked, flat-toned and not looking at Katsuki in the slightest.

"I wanted to talk."

"About?"

He rolled his eyes. "Us, dimwit."

You stopped and let your head hang, propping yourself on the counter with your hands spread flat. You still didn't look up at him, which was greatly pissing him off.

"We already did. Last week," you said.

"That wasn't a conversation," Katsuki ground out. "That was you coming to me and exploding out of nowhere. I didn't even have the chance to-"

"It wasn't out of nowhere," you interjected.

"Stop interrupting me, damn it, and just let me talk!" Katsuki spat. You looked up at him with a withered look, making his fire simmer down immediately.

"Fine," you said, voice wavering slightly. Katsuki cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He smiled slightly, bittersweet. You didn't react, so he went on.

"You're an idiot because you've got terrible tunnel vision," he said, glancing at the living room that looked like you had been sleeping in. You had a perfectly tangible bed in the next room, but there were just too many memories in there for you to spend the night in again.

"I can see fine," you grumbled.

"No, you can't," Katsuki looked back at you. "You haven't been able to see how hard I've been trying these last few weeks to figure things out. Figure us out."

"Well how the hell am I supposed to know that if you don't tell me anything?" You asked, trying to keep your voice from rising. The last thing you needed was a fight. You were just too tired.

"That's...something I need to work on," Katsuki muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "And I will admit that. Don't make fun of me for it."

"I never said I would."

"Great, because I gotta whole lotta other things to admit to." His eyes narrowed. "I don't wanna hear shit from you for the next five minutes, got it?"

You sighed, miming zipping your mouth shut as you went back to putting away your groceries. You might as well let him talk, since you knew his stubbornness wouldn't let him leave your kitchen so soon without him getting in his two cents.

"I've been thinking long and hard lately," he began. "On my own. Nothin' from anyone else except my own thoughts. So this is one hundred percent me.

"I screwed up. I did. And it took me a minute to realize it because I was so much in my head about things. I was so focused on trying not to mess us up that I went and did that shit anyway. And all you've been is supportive and caring, and quite honestly I don't know how to handle that since I haven't really been with anyone like that."

He was being honest, you knew from his tone of voice. It was a tone you had heard only a few times before this moment: when he told you he loved you. And you believed it.

Katsuki took in a breath: "So I'm here. And I'm sorry. At first I was mad at you for marchin' into my house the other day and spewing things I knew nothing about, but then I realized that you were spewing those things because you knew nothing about me and where I was at. And that was frustrating for you because you got that whole communication thing you like to do, or whatever."

"Or whatever," you mumbled to yourself, smiling slightly. He picked up on that, his spirits lifting a bit as well.

"I've just been thinking about things and where you are and who I want you to be to me as we live our lives. And I screwed it up by not talking to you about that either. It's a conversation we both should have. So," he sighed, "I'm sorry. And I'll continue to be sorry because you don't deserve to be left in the dark. I love you, and I want to be better."

He finished his little speech and the two of you were quiet. You had paused putting things away about halfway through, really listening to him and what he had to say. He deserved that from you in the least.

You looked up at him and saw that he had already been staring at you, an intent look in his eyes. It was your turn now. He wanted a response to his being vulnerable. You knew it wasn't easy for him to open up like that, despite the last two years of helping him get comfortable, so you didn't torture him with the suspense.

"We'll see," you said. Katsuki did a double take, eyebrows furrowing.

"We'll see?" He repeated. You nodded rounding your counter to stand in front of him.

"If we want to keep doing this for however many more years we keep doing this," the corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk, "then we'll just have to see."

"Great," Katsuki rolled his eyes and sent a seething glare out the window. "I totally lay myself on the train tracks and you just run me over like that. Thanks."

"But," you continued, trying to catch his eye, "I appreciate you coming to me. And I appreciate the apology. However, I won't know if I can accept it until I know you'll actually go through with it."

"Understandable," Katsuki sighed, comprehending this. "I deserve that one."

"Are you ready for a do-over?" You asked, catching his hands in yours. He couldn't help but notice a weight in his chest lift at the presence of your touch after weeks of barely anything. Katsuki still had some work to do, but it was worth it if he could keep you around.

"Always," he kissed you on the forehead and you smiled giddily.

"Awesome because we now have two weekends of cuddle-time to make up for, and my bedroom hasn't been used in a week," you led him to your door.

"Oh no," Katsuki complained sarcastically, "however will we make up for such lost time?"

"Shut up, you big doofus," you grinned. "You know you love me."

"That I do."

~~~~~~~

a teensy tiny bit of OOC bakugou near the end there but like. he'd be a sucker for that and totally willing if it was just the two of you around HAHA

anyways this was cute and i....am forever still in love w bakugou :))))

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dreamwritesimagines · 4 years

Text

Twisted [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: So, here we go! 😁 Thank you so much for your wonderful support and lovely messages during my break my loves, they mean so much to me and ily! ❤ On my break, I binged a lot of shows, and Criminal Minds and Prodigal Son were two of them, but if you haven’t watched them don’t worry because it will not be following a specific canon plot😁❤Please let me know what you think and enjoy!❤

Warnings: Murder, drug use, serial killers, violence, manipulation

Summary: No one can choose their family.

If it were another time, you could’ve at least attempted to convince yourself how everyone had problematic childhoods. Focusing on something else usually worked, per the advices of countless psychiatrists your mother had forced you to go after the-

Incident.

Just the thought of it was more than enough to make your blood freeze in your veins, but you were soon snapped out of your thoughts when your phone started ringing. You checked the caller I.D, and heaved a sigh before you touched the screen.

“Hello?”

“Please tell me you’re not going there.” Your mother’s voice filled the car and you pressed your lips together.

“Hi mom.”

“Every time you go there and visit that man in that wretched prison cell of his, he manages to get into your head!”

“That’s not what’s going to happen,” you said, keeping your eyes on the road, “You have no reason to worry.”

“I have every reason to worry!” she snapped, “We promised that we wouldn’t let him worm his way into our lives.”

“Yeah well, FBI begs to differ,” you forced yourself to say, “You’ve seen the news—“

“I don’t want to hear this,” she cut you off, then heaved a sigh, “It’s terrible enough to hear it once, let alone twice.”

You never really had the luxury of ignoring all the terrible things on the news, especially after what had happened. Ever since you were a child, the nightmares wouldn’t leave you alone, and you weren’t as good as your mother at ignoring what was happening while you were awake.

“You could’ve said no.”

“I really couldn’t,” you mumbled and she clicked her tongue.

“Well then,” she said, trying to pull herself together, “I expect to see you at brunch, even your sister is coming. It won’t take long, will it?”

“It won’t take long to see my serial killer father and find out whether he is helping another serial killer even if he’s been behind bars for years?” you asked, “No mom. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Sarcasm will give you wrinkles.”

“Oh yeah, tragedy.”

“Call me as soon as you leave there,” she insisted, making you smile. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said as you pulled over in front of the building. Even the sight of it was enough to make your stomach flip and you felt the bile climbing up your throat.

You did not want to see him.

You had managed not to see him for years now, but now, the news were full of different coverage about a killer whose method of killing was very similar to him.

A flower left in the crime scene, every damn time.

Naturally, FBI wanted a word with the original killer. Less naturally, the original killer refused to speak unless he talked to his younger daughter, who happened to be you.

Unfortunately.

Yet, the sooner you walked in, the sooner you would walk out, and that was the only thing that offered any kind of consolation.

“God damn it,” you mumbled to yourself as you left your car, and made your way into the building. They patted you down, made you go through the x-ray and sign the papers before you entered the hall.

There were two men that weren’t in official prison guard clothes, which made you think these were the FBI agents you had talked to on the phone. For some reason, you hadn’t pictured them like this, but you didn’t know any agents so maybe this was the norm.

If it were any other time, you could’ve noticed how handsome they both were, but your mind was way too occupied.

“Ma’am,” the dark haired one stepped closer to you, “I’m Special Agent Luke Alvez, this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Even if Agent Alvez looked like the ideal FBI agent that was pulled out of an action movie, Dr. Reid looked more like a young, handsome professor, the ones that you dreamed would be at your university when you were still at high school.

Needless to say, that fantasy hadn’t come true much to your disappointment.

You shook your head, trying to focus.

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You shook hands with him, and smiled at Dr Reid, “Hello.”

“Thank you for coming.” His smile was soft, much like his gaze, “I imagine it’s not easy for you.”

You forced yourself to shrug, “Yeah it’s…” you trailed off and cleared your throat, “It’s fine.”

“So far we have seen five murders all over the country, in different areas but the crime scene has your father’s signature. It most likely means there are multiple copycat killers, and given your father’s past, he might be the mastermind behind it. He contacted us, but refuses to say anything unless he spoke to you.”

The goosebumps rising on your arms felt almost familiar.

“I haven’t been educated in any interrogation techniques.” You said, “And knowing him, he’s not just going to give that information to me.”

“People give information about a lot of things even when they don’t realize it.” Dr Reid said, “We will be outside, watching and listening.”

“I’ll talk to the guards to see if he’s ready, excuse me.” Alvez said and he walked away while you nibbled on your lip.

“How does a serial killer have this many privileges?” Reid asked you, “He has a private cell, books, TV…”

“Money,” you said slowly, “Money buys lawyers, lawyers buy freedom. Or the closest thing to freedom, given the circumstances. If you ask me, he should’ve been rotting in a hole but...” you trailed off, leaning back to the wall and took a deep breath, counting in your head.

“That’s a good exercise to calm down,” Reid said and your head shot up.

“What?”

“The 4 7 8 breathing exercise. I’m guessing a psychiatrist taught you that.”

“Several psychiatrists taught me that,” you stated, raising your brows, “You’re observant aren’t you professor?”

“Doctor.”

You clenched an unclenched your fists, your eyes darting around the hall,

“This is not helping,” you said as you exhaled a breath, “I need a cigarette, or twenty.”

“What do you do?” his question was so out of nowhere that you gawked at him for a moment.

“What?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a— I’m a wedding planner.”

He tilted his head, “What’s that?”

“Well you…you know, you help the couples with color palettes, decoration, overall aesthetic, and during the wedding you make sure nothing goes wrong with the venue and the food and the music, all that. You make sure the wedding is perfect, basically.”

He hmmed, “How do I tell if a wedding is perfect? If we were talking sense wise?”

“Well first of all, in terms of looks, the colors need to complement each other,” you said, remembering your favorite events, “When you walk in, you see the garden and it’s well lit, but not too bright. In terms of touch, I guess you would make sure the table covers and such are soft to touch. The music should be slow at first, at least until it starts.”

“How about smell?”

“You can’t really go wrong with faint flower scents. Scented candles are a nice touch too.”

“The food?”

“Something light, most of the time. No one wants to get into a food coma at a wedding and you—“ you stopped as your eyes snapped up to his, a small smile playing at his lips.

He was making you list all the things that would ground you without making you realize you were doing it, so that you wouldn’t lose yourself in panic. It was yet another trick your psychiatrists had told you to do whenever you felt overwhelmed, talking about what you could see, hear, smell, touch and taste. By making you focus on a pleasant memory and remember all those, he was offering you a safe place in your own mind.

But contrary to any doctor, he didn’t make it obvious.

“Well played, professor.”

This time, he didn’t correct you,

“Grounding works most of the time,” he stated as Agent Alvez approached you, “I know this situation is less than ideal, but we will be right outside. You can walk out any time you want.”

“They’re ready.” Agent Alvez said and you nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your chest, then followed them to the door. Alvez opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, digging your fingernails into your palm.

His hair had more grays since you had last seen him, and his beard was longer, but that dangerous light in his eyes hadn’t changed. He looked up, a wide smile appearing on his face as his eyes searched yours.

“Sweetheart!” he said cheerfully, raising his hands a little so that you could see the chains attached to his handcuffs, “It’s been a while, wouldn’t you say?”

Pretending to be calm was something you had practiced so many times that your body knew automatically what to do. The door closed behind you and you swallowed thickly, making sure your face didn’t show any feelings. You slowly approached the table to pull yourself a chair, then put your phone on the table and started the countdown.

He wanted five minutes, and you would be damned if you stayed there a second longer.

“You look so much like your mother,” your father shook his head, “It’s uncanny, really.”

You gritted your teeth, still glaring at him.

“Not your eyes though,” he smiled, “You got your eyes from me. The window to the soul, hm?”

“My soul has nothing to do with you.” The words left your lips before you could stop them and he tut tutted.

“My petal-“

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off, “I hate that nickname.”

That didn’t seem to break his enthusiasm though, much to your displeasure.

“Well, we should catch up,” he said , clapping his hands together, “Are you still with that young man from last year? He’d better be treating you well.”

You blinked a couple of times, “How did you-?”

“I have my sources too.”

“Your sources are slow then.” You stated, “We broke up months ago. Is that all? You brought me here to just talk about my personal life?”

“Why did you break up?”

“Are you really behind all these murders happening right now?” you asked back and he shot you a reprimanding look.

“None of that right now, petal. Business and family shouldn’t be merged, as you know.”

You felt like you would throw up, but managed to hold it together and stole a look at the countdown.

“Why did you break up?”

“Certain differences,” you said, cracking your fingers to distract yourself, and he leaned back.

“I get that,” he said, “If you’re different, you’re different. I always felt that with your mother—“

“Stop that.” You spat out, “Anything I do, including my relationships, it has nothing to do with you. I’m nothing like you.”

“Oh but you are,” he said, “It’s all in your eyes. In that deadly glare of yours. It’s there, isn’t it? That anger? Try to hide it as much as you want, it’s still burning you.”

“There’s nothing burning me,” you said, “You’re fucked up, doesn’t mean I am too.”

“You know, there are many scientists that say murder is in the genes,” he stated, “So it would mean you’re contaminated too, no?”

The panic was pounding through your system, but you managed to keep your expression stable.

“Do you know why I didn’t ask your sister here? Or hell, your mother? Do you know why it is you?”

You stayed silent, your gaze focused on him.

“Your sister loved your mother, but you…. You were always such a daddy’s girl.”

“Wrong.”

“I don’t even think you cried for your mother whenever you scraped your knees, it was always me.”

“I didn’t know you were crazy when I was a child, guilty as charged. Doesn’t prove anything.”

“It does,” he said, “It proves more than you know. You are going to be my legacy.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine but you took a deep breath, resting your palms on the steel desk.

��No I won’t,” you said calmly, “Sorry to disappoint. I never killed anyone.”

Your father’s smile was almost as serene as your voice.

“Yet,” he pointed out, and you felt your throat tightening. “Ignore it if you want. It’s still there, petal.”

The beep of the phone made you snap out of it and you pushed your chair back, knocking it over in the process.

“Fuck you,” you said through your teeth as you gripped the door knob, “Have fun rotting in here.”

You swung the door open and stepped outside, still trying to catch your breath, and the door next to the interrogation room opened before Reid stepped into your vision. Your hands were still shaking and you desperately needed a cigarette and some fresh air.

But what you really needed was to get out of there.

“Y/N?”

“I hope you got whatever you guys needed,” you managed to say, wiping at your nose, “Because I’m never stepping a foot here, ever again.”

With that, you walked out of the hall, every cell in your body screaming at you to get away. You ignored the looks from the guards, tears blurring your vision and you left the building as fast as you could, as if someone was chasing you.

As if that could help you escape him.

Chapter 2

Taglist: @rhabakoli @theskytraveler @danyka-fendyr @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lettersofwrittencollective @dreamers-wonderland @lilliannaansalla @propertyofpoeandbucky @iblogabout-stuff @thinemineours @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @davnwillcome @chibi-liz05 @demigoddesofchimichangagod @finnickfoxes

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #mgg #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #reid x reader #reid imagine #reid imagines #twisted

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pentechnics · 3 years

Text

Blooming

Chapter 11 of Of Love and Time

Summary: You take some time to sort through your thoughts and emotions; Grogu just wants two of his favorite people to smile; your patience runs thin and your stress grows to be too much to handle.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (no y/n)

Series content: teacher/parent AU, fluff, slow burn, lots of mutual pining, sexual tension, mentions of past trauma (tagged in detail for specific chapters), depictions of violence (nothing explicit, no gore), angst, a dash of hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, Grogu is at the equivalent age of a human 4-year-old and can speak

Notes: All aboard the feels train, friends! Here we go! I'm excited to bring you into this portion of the story; there will be a lot going on but hopefully it'll all still be a good time! This one was hard to write, something wasn't sitting right and it didn't click until right when I got ready to post it lol. Any guesses as to what's different about this one? Also pls bear with me, chapter 12 is going to be really involved and I anticipate it being a Long Boi so it may take a bit longer than normal to put it together. Thank you in advance for your patience!

Thank you all so much for sticking by, I hope you enjoy this one! Lots of love to you! ❤️ p.s. drop me the word "bacon" if you caught the little reference I put in here lmao!

Taglist under the cut, let me know if you’d like to be added!

Chapter content: mention of vomiting, nothing descriptive

Time was cruel. It went on whether you wanted it to or not, dragging your body and soul through its sharp thorns and burning coals. Each laceration they caused on your existence came by slowly and lasted far too long.

Your mind was restless. Every waking moment was filled to the brim with the shouts of your anger, your fear, your guilt, your pain. It would get so loud that it made you nauseous.

Returning to work the next week was more difficult than it had ever been. You didn’t even greet the children at the gate the way you normally would those first couple days, instead waiting for them at the classroom’s front door. Grogu was so happy to see you, but as much as you loved his smile, he was an inevitable reminder of the pain that surrounded the situation you’d created with Din.

Despite it all, you refused to rob the children of their goodbye ritual. You would walk them to the gate and give them their due handshake, hug, or high-hand, and hated the relief that came with noticing that Boba was the one to come pick Grogu up. He wouldn’t try to start a conversation, instead just nodding your way before taking off, sometimes giving you a grin if he wasn’t wearing his helmet. He had to have known what happened between you and Din; you appreciated him giving you space.

You were able to set your problems aside during most of that week, refocusing on what the priority should be: the children’s education and wellbeing. But as the next one rolled around, you still not having any contact with Din or reaching any kind of consensus with your feelings, the toll of your stress was beginning to bleed into your work.

It became harder to get yourself out of bed. You were having a tougher time keeping up with the kids during play time, or maintaining your energy while you taught. You’d head home almost right away once the day was done and collapse on your couch, completely exhausted.

You sat at your table that Thursday evening, a simple dinner of vegetable stew and rice placed in front of you. You took slow bite after slow bite, but the food had no taste. Another phenomenon that had been plaguing you as of late. You chewed on each bit of it, trying to find the usual comfortable sensation that a warm meal brought to you.

Nothing.

You sighed and poked at your food, mind wandering to the one man that had taken over your thoughts for months now.

You tried to contact Din. Several times. But each time you scrolled to his name in your comm and pulled up the message feed, the nausea returned. What would you say? How would you say it? You left him in such a cruel and vague way, and you didn’t know how to fix it, no matter how much you wanted to. You typed out several messages over the past week and a half only to delete them and shove your comm away.

What if he was mad? He had every right to be. What if he took it out on you? You caused it, so you presumed it’d be warranted. What if he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore? That’s what scared you most.

He let you in so deep — even going so far as to lift his helmet in your presence — and you pushed him away. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t trust you anymore. But that didn’t prevent the undeniable pain the possibility brought. It seared through you, like a burning dagger being plunged into your flesh. Your face contorted as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You cradled your head in your palm.

You were miserable without Din as it was. The idea of causing him pain, and of possibly throwing away any kind of future bond with him, made it all the worse. How the hell were you supposed to remedy any of this?

~~~

Grogu walked up to you after school the next day from his usual post at the end of the assembly line. But unlike most days, he didn’t immediately go into your routine. You scrunched your brow as he stood before you, eyes silently focused on a spot on the ground while he thought.

“Miss, I have a question.”

“What’s up, bud?”

He looked up at you while he wrung his fingers together.

“I’m worried about Papa.”

Fear shot through you in an instant, gluing you in place. Did something happen to Din?

“He’s been sad lately.”

You took in a breath through your nose, a slight ache entering your lungs from their momentary lack of use. This wasn’t much better than what you were assuming.

“He used to get happy again when I gave him a picture, but now that only works for a little bit.”

He dropped his arms to his sides and pouted. You sighed.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. It must be hard for you to see him like that.”

He nodded.

“He likes it when I talk about you, too, but that didn’t work either.”

Another scorching wound to your heart. Guilt rose back up in your gut; the thought of Din growing happy at the mention of you — a happiness Grogu actually witnessed on his face — tore you up. You hated being responsible for Din’s pain, and now by extension, Grogu’s concern.

“He really likes you, Miss, can you do something to make him happy again?”

You bit down hard on your lips while you looked into Grogu’s big, pleading eyes. You wanted so badly to just wave a magic wand and take all of his troubles away. In a way there was something that could be done, you thought, but it wasn’t that easy. Maybe helping Grogu process this would suffice for now.

“You know, bud,” you started as you fully sat on the ground before him. “It can be hard to see someone we love be sad and not be able to fix it. It kinda makes us feel helpless, right?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, that’s not a nice feeling, is it?”

He shook his head. You took one of his hands in yours.

“But one thing that’s important to remember is that sometimes we have to feel sad in order to be happy again. We need to take time and feel all our feelings, make sure we can understand them. It helps us learn different things about life. Does that make sense?”

He tilted his head with a furrowed brow. You smiled. The motion reminded you of his father.

“It’s like the weather,” you continued, “Sometimes we need to have darker rainy days before we can have the bright sunny ones. They help keep everything balanced, and they bring you things that sunny days can’t.”

His eyes lit up in recognition.

“Oh, okay! But I like rainy days better.”

“I do, too,” you said with a giggle. “Same thing happens — on sunny days, your body gets warmth from the sun and that keeps you healthy. And rainy days can’t give you that. But when it rains you can run around in it all day because you already got everything you needed from the sunny day. You gotta have both kinds of days because they both bring you important things.”

“Oh! So Papa needs the sunny day before he can be happy again?”

“That’s right, bud. Even someone as strong as your papa might need some time to sit in the sun and get warm before it rains again. And that can be a good thing. Just because it doesn’t happen right away doesn’t mean he won’t be okay soon.”

Grogu looked down and wrapped his little fingers around yours, a more serious tone painting his complexion.

“Okay.”

“I think it’s very sweet that you’re so worried about him, Grogu. It means you love him very much.”

You leaned down to catch his sight.

“And I think telling him that will help, too.”

He nodded again.

“I love Papa a lot. More than anything. I want him to smile.”

Me too, bud, you thought. You didn’t even know what that smile looked like, yet here you were, missing it all the same. You gave Grogu’s hand a squeeze.

“He will, sweetheart. It might just take some patience.”

“Okay,” he said with another nod. “Thank you, Miss.”

He held out his arms and you accepted him into your embrace. You squeezed him close for a moment before letting him go and watching him run to Boba.

When the duo was out of sight tears pricked at your eyes. You wouldn’t wish this kind of misery on anyone, much less Din, and learning about his pain made you more angry with yourself.

You couldn’t keep this up — it would only hurt you both more. And the longer this went on, the higher the risk of hurting Grogu as well.

You had to sort yourself out.

You headed back to the classroom to collect your things. You were packing away your work comm in your desk when a knock at the door caught your attention. It was Bo, a teacher from a neighboring classroom. Your brow rose as he walked in, a tinge of annoyance entering your gaze.

Of all the coworkers it could’ve been, it had to be him.

“Sorry to barge in,” he started, “but I’m out of tape. Could I snag some from you?”

“Sure,” you said as you stood and headed to your supply closet. You grabbed a few rolls from the neat stack and turned, slightly tripping on your feet in the process. You tried to laugh it off as you walked over and handed Bo the tape, but he fixed you with a stare.

“Are you... doing okay?”

“Yes, just a little slip of the sole is all.”

He didn’t seem convinced. He quirked his brow.

“You sure? I don’t want to pry, but... you seem a bit... off.”

You furrowed your brow in return. That tone did not portray any sense of genuine worry. And why was he speaking so slowly?

“I appreciate your concern, Bo, but I can assure you I’m fine.”

You crossed your arms over your chest to accentuate your stern words.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

You were grateful when he took the hint and stepped back, hands in the air.

“Nope. Thank you for the tape.”

You nodded. He stared at you for another second, mouth twitching upward before he walked out of your classroom. A slight quirk of his knees followed each step he took. You sighed once he left your field of vision and closed the door. You got along with most of your coworkers, but Bo had always been a little difficult. He was brilliant with his students — engaging, kind, an effective educator. But when it came to the adults, he was more closed off, often coming off as pompous. On the rare occasions you spoke or worked with him you’d give him the benefit of the doubt for the sake of workplace camaraderie, but your patience was too thin for him today.

Maybe you were a bit harsher than you had to be. But he was also being kind of invasive, you thought.

You finished packing up your belongings and rushed out of the classroom, hoping you wouldn’t have to see him again on your way out.

~~~

Your arm was linked with Din’s as you strolled through the park, a gentle breeze caressing your skin. You were laughing at something he said and squeezed his arm. He pulled you closer.

“I love that sound,” he said. Your face flushed.

“Yours is the best one, though.” You replied.

“I have to disagree,” he said with a shrug.

A drop on your head caught your attention before you could respond, and rain suddenly began to pour down on you both. You laughed even harder while the cold water soaked through your clothes. Din looked around and led you to a small gazebo that stood in the middle of the grassy field.

You giggled despite your shivers. Din removed his cape and wrapped it around you before encasing you in his arms. His body heat embraced your damp skin while the cape protected you from his beskar. The sensation was so healing and comforting, much like his love. He could make every sun in the galaxy cower in shame.

You looked up at him. How lucky you were to be in this moment with him, you thought to yourself. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and breathed him in, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ A hiss filled your ears as he tipped up his helmet and placed a kiss on your head. You smiled.

“Is this helping?” he asked. You nodded against him.

“Very much.”

“I’m glad.”

He squeezed you in closer, raising a hand to the back of your head to play with your hair as the rain poured around you both.

“Actually,” you began after a moment as you looked up at him. “I might need another kiss to help me warm up.”

“Oh, really?” he said with a teasing tone and a tilt of the head.

You nodded, giving him the most serious face you could muster. He chuckled.

“Very well, then.”

He reached up to lift his helmet again, revealing his smiling lips as he leaned in.

Your eyes snapped open. Moisture leaked from them and trailed along your temples. A gritty bitterness flooded you. The fabricated image of Din’s grinning face was all you could see, no matter how much you tried to blink it away. Why was your subconscious being so heartless? You sighed and dragged yourself out of bed.

You gazed out your window as you had your breakfast in the living room, taking in the sunny Saturday morning. A few neighbors strolled by, and a speeder made its way down the road. The streets were otherwise quiet. Maybe a little walk would do you some good, you thought.

After finishing your meal you did just that. The air was crisp and fresh, a relieving sensation filling your lungs with each breath. There was a small breeze kicking up leaves in the street; their random dances were entrancing.

The calm kinetics around you were the perfect backdrop for examining your thoughts. You started with one of the bigger ones: your position. Being with Din the way you have been was a huge conflict of interest, and now that something had actually happened between you both, there was no escaping the consequences. You couldn’t just keep this quiet, even if the school year would only last a few more weeks. What was the best way to approach it? You had no clue. That was why you hadn’t talked to Gila about it yet — there were so many things to consider.

You feared for Grogu and Din. They had trouble fitting in with the other families when they first arrived, and when the Show and Tell incident occurred they faced even more issues; you feared this situation would jeopardize the trust they’ve since been given, the trust they worked hard to get. Grogu loved his classmates so much, and the thought of him being ostracized because of your relations with his family sent pain through your stomach.

You didn’t have to think twice about how much you adored that little green bundle of joy. Seeing him grow and thrive both at school and with his family was amazing. Through the toughest of times, he kept pushing, and you couldn’t help how proud you were. You wanted to keep seeing him grow, and be there to help if he needed you. For the moment you pushed aside the nagging guilt for getting so attached to him in favor of gratitude regarding his placement in your life. It made your heart swell.

And then there was Din. He had come so far — coming out of his shell and bonding with other guardians, involving himself in activities and conversation. He underwent a beautiful metamorphosis right before your eyes and it crushed you to imagine the possibility of him losing that progress.

Hurting either of them because of this situation was the last thing you wanted.

Your job aside, there was also the question of what was going on with your heart. It was clear you and Din had feelings for each other. And you weren’t sure how to handle it. You hadn’t expected a small crush to lead to whatever this was in general, let alone have your feelings be reciprocated. You thought back to your past, to relationships both romantic and otherwise that you held. The memories of feeling wanted and loved in the beginning were sweet and warm, but as they evolved over time and became instance after instance of being taken advantage of, trampled on, and then cast aside like garbage, familiar sensations of cold sadness and bitter grief took over.

You could tell Din wasn’t like that. But your instincts weren’t enough to erase your scars. You’d need reassurance from him. He’d have to spell out how he felt about you, why he trusted you enough to let you in as much as he has. You needed to know for sure that this was what he wanted, if he even still wanted it after the way you ran out on him. You sighed and shook your head.

Din was the first person in a very long time that made you want to relearn how to love.

Love.

What a word. It stopped you in your tracks. You weren’t sure if it applied to him yet, but it was definitely close enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You wanted it. You wanted to feel that way about him. You wanted to do the work to heal yourself and accept whatever his feelings might be. You bit your lip as anxiety started to pool in your gut.

‘No,’ you said to yourself, trying to stop the train before it took off, ‘it’s okay to feel this way. It’s okay to want love.’

You took a deep breath. You had a lot of work ahead of you, but that starting thought sent relief through your veins.

Were you ready for all of this? Unclear. But sitting around and waiting for an arbitrary symbol or sign that may never show up seemed like a bad idea. And life was not going to wait with you. It was time to act for yourself.

A faint, echoed voice interrupted your moment.

‘... Just this party in the garden.”

You glanced up. An older man was crossing the road to your side of the street, speaking loudly into his comm. His back was turned to you, a long cape ballooning behind him with each step.

“How ‘bout you don’t? …Wait- but that’s just a stick!”

You let out a small laugh. Without context you could only guess what that conversation was about. You kept walking.

That man must’ve been talking about the community garden just beyond you, outside of which several folks were gathered on the grass and conversing with each other. Picnic tables held arrays of food and drinks; children ran about with kites and other games; adults watched on. You held back a frown. You were hoping for some more seclusion. And it was all a bit too reminiscent of recent events.

A neighbor spotted you and waved.

“Want to join us?” they asked.

“No thank you,” you called back, “just out for a walk. I appreciate it though!”

They nodded and resumed their conversation. You headed to the backside of the garden, devoid of any party-goers. You looked out into the grassy field, taking in its contrast to the cerulean sky. Memories of your last visit to this spot — late night jetpack flights and speeder bike rides — made your heart flutter. A smile stretched across your face as you recalled the view from above. The feeling of soaring through the air, with Din’s arms holding you against his strong frame. Hearing him laugh, and seeing him show off his skills.

The joy you felt that night was unlike anything you’d known before.

You turned and headed into the floral section of the garden. Some more new blooms had joined the floral rainbow, including one that shocked you. Your jaw dropped as you stepped up to it.

The mystery plant had begun to bloom. It stood tall — just a little taller than yourself — and its flowers glowed a magnificent deep amethyst. Each of its many petals flowed into a small spike, making each distinct point of the flower stand out and proud. Dark pollen stems stuck out from the middle. Silver veins weaved through each petal, matched by a silver sheen decorating the underside that perfectly accentuated their intense violet hue.

They were stunning.

You inspected the rest of the plant; not every bud had bloomed just yet. You wondered how long these specimens had been showing off their glorious selves. How long they’d last before wilting.

You reached up and ran one of the soft petals through your fingertips.

“Look at you,” you whispered, “you’ve come so far.”

Your smile faded when your heart started to ache; you wanted Din to see the flowers. The weight of his absence bled into your senses as you recalled the memory of him standing beside you, trying to scan this plant. Your skin tingled where it had come into contact with his cuirass. You took a deep breath.

Your brother aside, you were sure you’d never missed someone this much.

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when Din had built himself into the architecture of your happiness, of your days, of your dreams. But he did. And you wanted him to stay. To live in that structure alongside the other pillars that made up who you were and why you loved your life. To be part of its future additions.

To exist with you.

And you wanted to exist with him, and Grogu, and the beautiful family they had built together.

You wanted to live your life with Din.

The realization almost brought you to your knees.

~~~

The black expanse of your dreamless sleep faded away. Your dark room came into view as your body lurched upward in your bed.

Something was not right.

Your hand clasped over your mouth as you quickly kneeled at your trash can and hurled, your stomach unable to wait until you got to the bathroom.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, coughing and heaving, before your breath slowly began to even out. You reached an arm up to your nightstand and plucked a tissue from the box to wipe your face. You threw it in the trash with your sick and tied the bag shut with quivering hands. Your sore lungs struggled as they took in one jittery breath after another, your throat burning with each one.

It was still dark out. The twilight sky along with the blurred glow of a nearby streetlight spilled through the edges of your curtains. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand — it was 4am. There was no way you could go into work like this.

You groaned as you crawled back to your bed, but not before grabbing a fresh bag to keep nearby. You wrestled your comm out from under your blanket, flinching as the screen burned your dilated eyes. Shaking thumbs typed out a short and flimsy message to Gila before collapsing onto the bed once more.

Your head was throbbing. Your arms were tired. Every move of your muscles felt as though you’d just swam across the entire planet, or lifted a herd of Banthas with your bare hands. It was so cold, yet you were sweating. With a grumble you pulled your covers up and let your head thump against the padding of your headboard. Your eyes were so dry, producing tears as you closed them and attempted to sleep once more.

~~~

“Girl! Are you okay?”

You pulled your comm away as Gila’s voice penetrated your eardrums, irritating your aching head. You were grateful that the head of your bed didn’t face the windows; the Monday morning sun’s reflection off your walls and furniture was already too much for your weary senses as you looked around.

“I’m okay, Gila. But I can’t risk getting the kids sick. I’ll let you know how I feel tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding me? No, you are staying home all this week. No question.”

You furrowed your brow. “Gila, I don’t think that’s nec-”

“Ah-ah, no. As your boss, I’m saying you’re staying home for the week, even if you’re better in five minutes. Waking up barfing in the middle of the night is never a good sign, hon. And that message was the least coherent thing I have ever seen from you. Please listen to your body and rest.”

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “I’m sorry to cause any trouble.”

“No such thing, we’ll take care of it. I’ll cover your class today and then call one of our subs for the rest of the week. I guarantee you the kids will be in good hands, okay?”

“Okay, I trust you. Thank you, Gila.”

“No worries! Do you need anything? I can come by and bring whatever you need, or if there’s anything else-”

“No, no. Thank you, but it’s totally fine. I can take care of this.”

“You sure? I don’t know how good an idea it is for you to be alone in that state.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” your tone grew a bit more firm, though you were sure its impact was partially lost by the soreness of your throat. You heard a static sigh come through the comm.

“Whatever you say,” came her sing-song response. “You call me if that changes, okay? And get some more sleep!”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Feel better!”

~~~

After hanging up the call with you, Gila checked the clock. 9:45am — just enough time for her to make one more call before the school day was to begin. She narrowed her eyes and scrolled around on her comm before pressing a button, elbows coming down to rest on her desk as she waited.

“Hey, just the guy I was looking for!” She said once the link was connected.

“All is well, I just had a question. Can you come by after school today? I need a favor.”

She listened for a response.

“Trust me, man, you’ll want to hear this. I wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t important.”

She listened again before grinning.

“Great. See you then.”

~~~

All fourteen children were gathered on the circle carpet, confusion etched on their expressions as they looked around for their missing teacher. A few guardians were speaking with Gila just outside the classroom door.

“Where do you think Miss is?” Grogu asked Li. She shrugged.

“I don’t know. I hope she’s okay.”

“Me, too.”

Grogu looked down to his hands sitting in his lap. Uncle Boba had dropped him off again this morning with the claim that Papa had to go into work early again. He’d been saying that for a couple weeks at this point. And now Miss wasn’t here? He let out a little sigh. Something was off. He remembered Miss’s lesson about rainy and sunny days, but Grogu didn’t realize that a sunny day could become a sunny week, or even longer.

He wanted his normal back. He wanted his rain.

Gila walked inside and shut the door before making her way to the front of the room, facing the group of curious younglings.

“Hey kids, I bet you’re wondering where Miss is today.”

They nodded.

“She’s not feeling well right now, so we asked her to stay home and rest.”

A chorus of ‘aws’ and murmurs of what Miss might be sick with erupted in the tiny crowd. Grogu frowned.

“Now, now, everyone,” Gila held up her arms and tried to recapture the room’s attention. “I promise she’ll be okay. She’s just going to do what she needs to in order to feel better and she’ll be back here before you know it. I’ll be hanging out with you today and then you’ll have a substitute for the rest of the week. Let’s make sure we give them just as much respect as Miss, okay?”

“Yeah!” came the collective cry. Tara raised her hand, to which Gila pointed.

“Can we give Miss something? To help her feel better?”

“Ooh!” came Li’s voice, “we could make her something!”

“That’s a very sweet idea, kids — would the rest of you want to do that?”

Another big cheer.

“In that case, what if we all signed a card for her?” Gila suggested. The class agreed.

With a grin Gila rummaged around and found a large yellow poster paper. She folded it in half and set it up on the ground, letting the kids take turns signing and drawing on it throughout the day while engaging them in their regular activities. It wasn’t long before the paper was covered in words and drawings in all sorts of colors.

When it was his turn, after everyone else had already given Miss their well wishes, Grogu crouched down with his small packet of markers. He found a clear corner inside the card and got to work, placing a small drawing and a little message in there for his beloved teacher.

He glanced behind him once he was done — everyone else was still involved in their own activity. He grinned and turned the card over to add another message. He chose his favorite silver marker for this one, cupping his arm around just in case someone walked by.

When he was satisfied he capped his marker and examined the final product with a big smile.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

~~~

You had not left your couch all day. A random holofeed played on low volume in the background as you laid down, covers cocooning you in their fluffy warmth. The floor at your feet was littered with a tissue box, a med pack, a water bottle, and spare plastic bags. The air in your living room was stuffy — a discomforting, almost moist sensation that you had to force down your windpipe with each inhale. Ironically, it made your throat feel drier.

Your stomach churned; you’d hardly eaten all day. Whatever you tried to keep down just came back up. Evidence of that fact sat in a pile on the ground near the opposite end of the couch, and you had no ability to make yourself something that would stay down. Your face contorted as your arm wrapped around your middle. You focused on your breathing while the pain seared through your stomach as if you’d swallowed a blade; this will pass, you thought over and over in an attempt to soothe yourself. You let out a breath once it did and relaxed once more.

You winced when a knock erupted from your door. Who the hell could that be, you wondered. You slowly dismantled your nest and lowered your stiff legs onto the ground, making sure to secure them before attempting to stand. The room seemed longer as you did, the comfort of your blankets falling away and leaving you shivering in your pajamas. Multicolored dots flung themselves about your line of sight; you tried to blink them away as your cold, bare feet took one slow step after another towards the door.

You didn’t bother looking through the window first — if some rando was here to rob you, then you’d just have to be okay with that. They wouldn’t find very much monetary value in your things, anyway. Or if someone was trying to sell you something, your pale face, dead eyes, and disheveled appearance would scare them away with ease. You placed your trembling hand onto the knob, turning it and pulling the door open.

The fresh air was a welcomed change for your lungs, though it intensified your chills by hitting the already cold sweat on your face. You took in a breath and wrapped your free hand around yourself as you poked your head out.

The sight of your visitor made your blood turn to ice.

***

taglist: @dincrypt @anrimdjarin @kodye1018 @persie33 @janebby @allmahfeels @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @queen-since-97 @tobealostwanderer @darlingotaku @fangirlalexia @justdrawings101 @bluemacaron @onebrownoneblue @440mxs-wife @what-iwish-you-knew

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #grogu #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #mando x you #slow burn #fluff #of love and time #my writing

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tsukishumai · 3 years

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Your First Fight - Akaashi, Kenma, Oikawa, Kageyama (Setter Squad)

A/N - This was for anon, I’m so sorry, I’m not sure what the heck happened to this post >-< but it’s back, and I fixed the links on the other posts as well!

Ace Edition

Word Count: 2.8k T-T

I may or may not have gotten carried away with this one (✿◠‿◠) Buckle up, and I hope u enjoy! ( ˘ ³˘)

AKAASHI –

You understand why Akaashi wanted to keep your relationship secret. Really, you did. You could already imagine the barrage of overbearing comments, and the teasing that was sure to be a distraction during practice. With Nationals just around the corner, this was the last thing you both needed.

Being the manager of the Fukurodani Volleyball Club, you know better than most just how rowdy the group could actually be. Bokuto may be the loudest one of the bunch, but all the others can be just as provoking.

And to be honest, the sneaking around was kind of hot. You can’t deny you got butterflies every time Akaashi would pull you into the equipment room for a quick make out session, or when he would give your thigh a secret squeeze under the lunch table surrounded by your friends.

But it’s been months now, and frankly, you were kind of getting tired of it. Sure, it may be slightly more convenient for the both of you, but some days you just want to hold your boyfriend’s hand down the hall without having to look over your shoulder.

You’ve only brought it up to Akaashi once before, but he brushed it off by saying it wasn’t the right time, and you were discouraged to try ever since.

You really weren’t planning to bring it up at the Tokyo Representative Playoffs… you really didn’t. But Konoha’s girlfriend showed up to cheer him on, looking so happy and proud in the stands, you couldn’t fight the tinge of envy that started to take over your body.

Akaashi was observant, and he knew you better than anyone. He could see you stealing glances into the stands, could see the tension in your shoulders whenever Konoha’s girlfriend yelled out cheers for him.

He couldn’t stop himself from following you after you told Yukie you were just going to the restroom.

“No good luck kiss?” he called out once the both of you were a safe distance from the team.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone to see,” you said bitterly, not stopping for Akaashi.

Akaashi frowned. “Y/N, you know that’s not true.”

“Well, why else wouldn’t you want to tell anyone about us?” you asked, you finally stopped walking, turning around to give him a hard look.

Akaashi groaned in frustration. “Do we really have to talk about this right here? Right now? I told you, it’s just easier this way.”

You scoffed, and Akaashi hated the sound. “Sorry our relationship is such an inconvenience for you.” You didn’t give him a chance to reply, quickly entering the women’s bathroom, faintly hearing the sound of Bokuto calling your boyfriend’s name behind you.

Akaashi didn’t blame you for the loss against Itachiyama, but he definitely blamed himself.

“Have you seen Y/N?” he asked Bokuto after the game, but the ace just shrugged, too upset about the loss to really care. The whole team had all gathered their things, ready to make their way out of the gym and you still were nowhere to be found.

Akaashi’s worries were relieved, but quickly replaced with new ones when Bokuto spotted you down the hall, cornered by someone wearing a Nohebi uniform.

“So tell me, do you have you a boyfriend?” Akaashi heard him ask, and you finally noticed the team approach you. The evil gleam in your eye didn’t escape Akaashi’s attention.

“No, actually. I don’t.”

It was one thing for you to deny it to your teammates, but to other men? Akaashi shouldn’t be mad that those were the words that came out of your mouth; it was his own fault for putting you in the situation in the first place. He knows you’re just doing what he told you to.

But he was furious, and there was nothing that could have stopped him from grabbing you by the elbow, turning you away from the dirty little snake that dared to talk to you, and crashing his lips onto yours.

You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting from Akaashi, but it definitely wasn’t this. Though, you weren’t complaining, returning his kiss with equal fervor, ignoring the uncomfortable cough from the Nohebi player, and the gasps and shocked exclamations from your teammates.

All you could focus on when he pulled away was Akaashi, blue eyes staring straight into your soul, the next words tumbling out of his mouth was all you’ve wanted to hear for months.

“You’re mine. I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

KENMA –

You’ve been sitting in the same spot on Kenma’s bed for about an hour now. The room was filled with only the sounds emanating from the TV, and your boyfriend’s fingers tapping on the buttons of his controller.

Kenma always did like falling into a hole whenever he bought a new game; you’ve known this about him since you were kids. It wasn’t something you ever really minded, nor did you think it was something you wanted to change. It was a part of him that you simply accepted.

Normally, you were content with reading a book while he played, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, getting lost in different worlds. You both respected each other’s hobbies, and the fact that you could do them together in the same room worked out so perfectly.

However, you finished your book faster than you anticipated, and in your shortsightedness, you failed to bring with you a second book. You tried to read webtoons online, but the light from your phone began to strain your eyes.

“Kenma,” you whined as boredom got the best of you, and the blonde boy didn’t bother to respond, “I’m hungry. Can’t we get something to eat?”

“After,” he grunted, though there were no specifications to when ‘After’ would be.

You sighed, getting up from your spot on the bed to tinker with his things. You walk around his room, running your fingers along the books lined on his shelf, picking up frames that contained happy memories of his life.

You hear your phone ding, signaling a message and you turned to make your way back to the bed.

“Hey!” Kenma exclaimed suddenly, making you jump, “Could you not walk in front of the TV? I just died because of you!”

You stared at him in shock for a second. You had never heard him raise his voice before “Excuse me? So what, it’s just a stupid game.”

“It’s not a stupid game,” Kenma grumbled, his voice back to his usual soft tone, but still held a slight tinge of anger. “You know I’ve been waiting for this to be released. Can’t you just read your book and be quiet like you usually do?”

Kenma immediately knew those were the wrong words to say, regretting the way you face turned into a pout. He watched you begin to gather your things, a slight panic rising in his chest when he realizes you’re trying to leave. “You know what, let me just leave you alone, since clearly my company isn’t wanted –“

You were cut off by Kenma getting up from his spot, opening the bottom drawer of his TV stand to rummage through it. You eyed him curiously until he finally found what he was looking for; pulling out another controller that he connected to the gaming console.

He quietly took your hand, pulling you down to sit on the floor with him. You sat cross legged and confused, wondering what he was doing until he handed you the controller. You stared at it in your lap, a small smile spreading on your face at his silent apology.

He started the game on easy mode, giving you a quick rundown on the basic controls.

“I’ll order us some pizza,” he said quietly, making you give him a soft peck on the cheek.

“Pizza sounds good.”

OIKAWA –

The booming sound of Oikawa’s serves was something that will never cease to amaze you.

Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile your Oikawa Toru – the one that hides behind your hair during scary movies, and asks you to kill the spiders for him – with Aoba Johsai’s Oikawa Toru. To you, they were just two completely different people.

But when you were watching him practice like this, raw power coming from his usually gentle hands, you can’t help but stare at him in awe.

You don’t usually stay this late to watch him practice; on a normal day, your club activities would end at the same time and Oikawa would walk you home, but on days like today where he felt he needed the extra practice, you left him in the care of Iwaizumi.

You were a little surprised, however, when you found Iwaizumi waiting for you at your club room, claiming he really needed to get his part of his group project done by tonight, and if you could please stay and make sure your boyfriend doesn’t kill himself.

How could you say no?

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times Oikawa practiced his serve, the repetitive sound of the balls bouncing and his grunting becoming a sort of hypnotic rhythm for you. Before you knew it, the sun had BEEN down, and the moon had taken its place in the night sky.

You begin to notice the telltale signs of exhaustion, Oikawa struggling to catch his breath, chest heaving up and down, his form beginning to look sloppy.

“Alright,” you say, jumping down from your spot on the bench, “It’s time to go home.”

“One more.”

“Tsk,” you clicked your tongue, walking around collecting the balls, “It’s been hours, Toru. Rest is also a part of training, you know.”

He ignored you, grabbing another ball from the cart, but you just started taking down the volleyball net.

“What the hell are you doing? I said one more!” “And I said it’s time to go home!”

The ear-splitting sound of the volleyball slamming the floor cut through the gym, leaving you frozen in place. “You wouldn’t understand! You may be satisfied with doing the bare minimum for your practices, but my serves have to be perfect! I have to be perfect!” Oikawa’s voice echoed, glaring at you with red eyes, frustration evident on his face.

You didn’t say anything. You stared at him for a moment, then turned around and began the process of closing the gym. Oikawa also chose to stay silent, brown eyes trained on the floor as he gathered his belongings, silently following you once you turned off the lights and locked the door.

The walk home was quiet; the lack of a reaction on your part weighing more heavily on Oikawa than he expected. He snuck a glance at you, but you kept your head forward, steel faced and neutral.

Each step he took was more agonizing than the last, knowing he shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. Your house was beginning to come into view, and he couldn’t leave the night like this.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and your sharp inhale let him know that you heard him.

“I know.”

“I’m exhausted...” and you know he wasn’t just talking about volleyball.

You finally faced him, and gently grabbed his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders as you snaked an arm around his middle. He felt all the tension his body melt away, half expecting to find it puddled around his feet.

“I know,” you said, “But if you ever talk to me like that again, you’re getting a flying fist to the face.”

Oikawa laughed, drawing one out from your own mouth. He placed a kiss on your temple, and gave you full permission to cut his head off if he ever lashed out at you again. He always appreciated how he never had to tell you anything… you always just knew.

KAGEYAMA –

Kageyama had a pretty good weekend, if you asked him.

He woke up early on Saturday morning to go for a run, then got home and had pork curry for lunch. He figures it’s been a while since he’s brushed up on his basic skills, so he went to the local gym and practiced some drills. On Sunday, he was dragged by Hinata to a study group with Yachi, and admittedly gotten more homework done there than he would have on his own.

It was a nice, productive weekend. He entered his Monday with this positive vibe following him around, even morning practice went by smoothly.

He went about his usual routine of waiting for you by the school gates so he could walk you to class. He only waited about ten minutes until you came into view, and Kageyama subconsciously straightened his posture. He tried to push down the little tickle at the pit of his belly when you made eye contact, not wanting to admit he was excited to see you.

“Good morning,” he said as soon as you approached, but his entire mood completely shifted downward when you simply walked passed him.

Where was his usual ‘Good morning, Tobio-kun!’? Why didn’t you stop to give him his morning peck on the cheek? Why didn’t you let him carry your bag for you on the way to class?

Did he do something wrong?

He was so confused, questions running through his head as he simply trailed after you silently.

“Is everything alright?” He tried to ask once you reached your class, but you just gave him a stern look, turning away from him to enter your classroom and take your seat. He was left there looking like an idiot.

He couldn’t focus in class, trying to wrack his brain on why you could possibly be upset. Did he forget an anniversary? Doubtful, you’ve only just started dating. Were you on your period? Kageyama shook his head. Even he knew that would literally be the worst question to ask.

The bell rang to signal the start of lunch, and Kageyama hurriedly gathered his things so he can go find you.

He didn’t have to look very far, though, because when he exited his classroom, he spotted you down the hall.

The second you saw him, you marched your way over; the dark aura you were giving off had made everyone steer clear of you.

Kageyama gulped, wanting to run away before he remembered that he also wanted to talk to you.

“Y/N –“ “You know, I was going to ignore you the whole day, but seeing you this morning just really pissed me off, and unlike you, I actually can’t stand not talking to you.”

Kageyama blinked, happy to hear your voice, but confused at the words you were saying. “Unlike me? What do you mean?”

You crossed your arms and huffed. “Where the hell were you all weekend?”

Again, Kageyama blinked stupidly. “What do you mean? I was home.”

This seemed like the wrong answer, because now your hands moved to your hips, and for some reason, you were ten times more intimidating like that. “So? You never thought to shoot me a text? Or give me a call?”

“Was I supposed to?” Kageyama asked, and the genuine curiosity in his voice made you face palm.

“Did you not want to?” You asked, though there was no hurt behind the question.

“I did.” “So why didn’t you?”

Kageyama thought about it for a moment. “I went to the gym instead.”

You let out a groan of frustration. Honestly, you should have known. It took you three tries before Kageyama even realized you were confessing to him. It took him even longer to realize that he actually had to tell you he liked you back, and that you had no idea that him buying you yogurt meant he was asking you out.

“Tobio-kun,” you said patiently, “If you’re thinking of me, you should text me or call me to let me know.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Even if I have nothing interesting to say?”

You nodded, looping your arm through his and starting your walk to the cafeteria. “Even then. I just want to hear from you.”

Kageyama nodded his head in understanding. “Okay. That’s good to know.”

Your phone never stopped blowing up after that conversation. RIP your notifications.

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sit-down-and-shut-up · 3 years

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time- a. hotchner

SUMMARY: you get kidnapped lol

WARNINGS: kidnapping (duh), some injuries but everyone lives, aaron being m a d, and reader being a freaking baddie

WORDS: too many 6604

A/N: sorry that it’s been a hot minute since i posted, im lazy

Aaron glanced up as the workday finally drew to a close, watching you wave goodbye to the team and stroll towards the unit chief’s office, just in time to see JJ as she ascended the steps on her way to the room as well. You started to wave, but JJ murmured something you couldn’t make out and you stopped. Aaron’s blood ran cold, and he mentally cursed himself for being naive enough to believe that things would work out for once. He turned to look at Emily and Morgan through the blinds, who’d been talking near Emily’s desk, and saw their eyes trained on you and JJ. Emily swore under her breath, then headed to the conference room with Spencer and Derek not far behind.

+++++

Aaron sat down next to you in the conference room, meeting your eyes and giving you a halfhearted smile. You returned the gesture and went back to scanning the grisly photos before you. He zoned out as JJ spoke, giving the rundown on each of the girls that had been abducted, then murdered mere hours later. The murders seemed somewhat random, with the exception that the victims were all girls in their upper 20’s. In fact, they were all 29, just like you were.

Something clicked in your mind, but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions. You could feel Aaron’s steely gaze on you, and you wondered briefly if he could tell what you were thinking. You were lost in your thoughts, to the point where you didn’t hear Aaron’s deep “Wheels up in 30.” After everyone had left the conference room, Aaron turned back to see you still staring at the photos, searching for something you couldn’t quite name among the blood spatters and empty faces. He walked over to you and gently tapped your shoulder, causing your head to whip up to face him. Realization washed over your eyes, and you mumbled an apology.

Aaron shook his head in response, saying “I’m sorry. I was hoping we’d actually get to go out tonight.” You sighed, then replied.

“Who knows? Maybe the unsub will be caught by the time we get there and we can go get dinner or something.” You laughed as you said it, but your laughter was tinged with a resigned sadness Aaron despised, wishing he could take you somewhere you’d never be forced to feel this way again. Aaron watched you for a few seconds longer, as your face darkened and you grabbed your files and left the room, heading to his office, where both of your go-bags were. He wanted to tell you so much, but wasn’t sure how to start. He wanted to tell you that he’d been planning to propose this evening, that he wanted to be with you forever. But he couldn’t.

+++++

Aaron noticed you lost in your thoughts again on the plane ride while the rest of the team went over the case. The sheer amount of bodies was enough to give someone pause. In addition, the unsub took a girl each Thursday, but never kept them for more than a few hours. Why?

The plane ride felt fairly short. You were hit with a wave of nostalgia as the plane touched down in New York, where you’d gone to college years earlier, and worked before you were transferred to the Behavioral Analysis Unit and moved to Quantico. As you walked into the FBI field office with the rest of the BAU, you couldn’t stop your mind from remembering the last time you’d been in the building, when working a terrorism case alongside Agent Joyner four years earlier.

She’d been killed immediately by a bomb in your SUV, and metal had been lodged in your left leg, cutting the femoral artery and nearly causing you to bleed out. If not for your Aaron, you would’ve died there, on the cold pavement. When Aaron came to visit you while you recovered from surgery, you managed to slur out that you loved him. At the time, he blamed it on the drugs you were on, until he showed up at your hospital room again a few hours later, to drive you home. You’d suffered hearing loss as well, and coupled with your leg injury, you couldn’t go in the field or on the plane for a while. As he helped you up and handed you the crutches you’d be relying on for nearly a year, you met his eyes and said confidently, “I meant what I said earlier.”

He’d paused for a second, before his lips spread into a rare smile, and he said, “I love you too.” You’d always known the relationship wouldn’t be easy, considering his recent divorce and your unconventional jobs, but you were fine with it. Being with Aaron was good enough.

Present-day Aaron subtly placed a hand on the small of your back, a sign of encouragement he’d adopted over the years. You glanced up at him and nodded, silently letting him know you were okay. He dropped his hand, and held it out to the new director of the New York field office: Agent Milenka, an enthusiastic but imposing woman you’d met at the Academy when you were younger. You caught Morgan glaring at her for a second, reminding you that Morgan almost got that job. Still, you knew that Morgan loved you all too much to leave the BAU for a job directing the New York field office. The team was his rock, the weight that tethered him to reality when he was at his lowest. Aaron introduced Milenka to the rest of your team, until she cut him off when he got to you.

“I know her,” she declared loudly, “I was her firearms trainer at the Academy, but she had to show me up and be better with a gun than I am.” Spite dripped from her words, but the mischievous smile on her face told you she wasn’t really upset. Aaron nodded slightly, caught off-guard by her remark, then interjected to ask where his team could set up.

Agent Milenka led all of you to an empty conference room, with the case files already arranged neatly and a blank evidence board at the front of the room. She turned on her heel and stared firmly at the team. If you hadn’t known her for years, you’d assume she was going to attempt to assert control over the case, but instead she said, “My agents have come to see this office as a family, and probably won’t take too well to the fact that I’ve called you in. If any of them give you hell, tell me, and I’ll make the devil look like a cuddly teddy bear.” She pivoted on her heel to leave, then turned back around. “Agent L/N, my office.”

+++++

You were shocked, to be honest. This woman could bring grown men to their knees, and now she sat in front of you, spinning in a swivel chair, teasing you over your obvious infatuation with Aaron Hotchner.

“Really, Milenka, I gotta get back to the team,” you sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Fine”, she grunted, making a shooing motion with her hand. “But here’s what I meant to tell you. I’m guessing you and your team want to know why it took this many bodies for me to call you in. I mean, I’d be wondering that, too. The bodies were all dumped two days ago, even though they’d all been dead for various amounts of time, so I’m guessing the unsub wanted to make sure I had to call you guys. Keep that in mind. He knows how this works.” The humor and mischief was gone from the agent’s voice, and in that moment you knew how she’d risen through the ranks of the FBI so quickly. Something about her made you want to do everything you could to solve the case as quickly as possible. She wasn’t someone you could let down.

You grimaced, then nodded, unable to say anything, and left her office, getting coffee from the espresso machine for you and your teammates as you walked back to the conference room. As you passed around the cups, Aaron watched you expectantly, obviously waiting for you to relay whatever information Agent Milenka had told you, and so you did. The reactions among the team members were the same, set jaws and darkening eyes. You didn’t know where to start with the case, until you remembered the idea you’d gotten back in D.C. You leapt from the black desk chair you’d just sat down in and practically ran to the evidence board, grabbing a red dry-erase marker and organizing the victim’s pictures from the first to the last to be abducted. You circled the eyes on some of the pictures, the hair on others, the widow’s peaks on some, and other various defining features.

“He’s working up to someone specific,” Spencer muttered as you worked. You whipped around, pointing a finger at him and downing the last of your coffee.

“Yes! Okay, so, look at this: The first and last girl are wildly different, but when you look at the chronological order of the victims, each one gains another characteristic that the next one didn’t have, like he’s working up to getting one specific girl, and kept killing those that looked increasingly similar to his real target!” You blurted the words, and watched as your teammates looked on in a mix of awe and horror, at both the board and a piece of paper Spencer had messily written on. Aaron, who was usually so emotionless, looked especially horrified, and scared. You shot Spencer a questioning look, and he held up the paper he’d shown the rest of the team. He’d taken the first letter of each woman’s name, and when lined up, they spelled out a message.

Your name.

+++++

“You’re off the case.” Aaron said, crossing his arms over his chest as you paced around the empty office he’d practically dragged you to.

“What? If some psycho is after me, I want to be the one to catch him!” You spoke firmly, almost yelling but not quite.

“If some psycho is after you,” Aaron started, sounding much calmer than you had, “I want you to be safe. Sending you out to hunt him down isn’t keeping you safe.”

You scoffed, then yelled, “As long as he’s out there, I’m not safe! If you let me help, we’ll find him faster. I can’t- no, I won’t- just sit here doing nothing while this man kills women just because he’s got some sort of vendetta against me!”

Aaron’s resolve broke down. You could tell from the way his back slumped and he pulled you into his chest. You wrapped your arms around him, basking in the feeling of calm it brought. Your anger dissipated when he held you like that, and he knew it.

He murmured, “I can’t lose you,” into your ear, and your heart broke from the way his voice cracked from fear and sadness. Aaron pulled away far too soon, and gave you a look that you knew meant to stay put, and pulled out his phone to call Penelope Garcia.

A few moments later, Spencer walked in, hands in his pockets. He looked unsure of himself, and you couldn’t figure out why until he said, “Hotch wants me to drive you to the hotel.”

You stared at him silently for a second, then mumbled curses under your breath and stormed out of the room to find your bag. Spencer put an arm out to stop you, then said, “He said he’d bring it for you tonight.”

You glared at him for a moment, before averting your gaze to the suddenly interesting polished linoleum beneath you. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t be mad at you.”

Spencer gave you a small smile, and replied, “It’s okay. You’re stressed. We all are. Hotch just wants you to be safe.”

You nodded, and he led you from the building to the shiny, black SUV parked outside. Aaron jogged out of the building towards you, and grabbed the handle of the vehicle before you could. You met his eyes, and he murmured, “I know you’re mad at me, but I need you to stay in the hotel room, okay? Lock the door, and I’ll be there tonight with your go-bag.” You nodded, and he paused a second before saying, “I love you.”

Your pride got the best of you, and you simply muttered, “I know.”

+++++

You’d been sure that the SUV’s tires were full when you’d arrived in New York, but the flat passenger tire begged to differ. Spencer pulled into a nearby gas station to fill up the tire, something you were fairly sure he’d never done before. You couldn’t help but laugh when he called Morgan to ask what to do, who responded that it would be easier for him to come fill up the tire himself. You mouthed that you had to go to the bathroom, and Spencer nodded as Morgan’s laughter came through the phone. You stifled laughter as you walked into the gas station, grimacing at the smell of sweat and cheap hot dogs.

+++++

Aaron wasn’t sure if he’d ever been so mad. No, mad wasn’t the word. Was there a word that could encapsulate the unadulterated fury coursing through his veins? He paced the conference room like a caged lion, practically screaming at Spencer and Derek through the phone.

“What the hell happened?”

Spencer was crying, he could tell that much from the muffled sobs, and Aaron couldn’t help but think that he might never see you again. He slammed the phone onto the table with nearly enough force to break it, and looked up to see Emily, Rossi, and JJ already halfway out the conference room, before he’d told them what happened. The four of them slid into the two remaining SUVs. Aaron screeched out of the parking lot, gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. Rossi kept shooting him worried glances he pretended not to notice.

“We’ll find her,” Rossi said, “But you need to stay calm for us to do it.”

Aaron nodded. He didn’t trust his voice to work right now. If he tried to speak, he knew he’d probably cry. He pulled into the gas station just before Emily and JJ, and a voice in his head reminded him that this might be the last place you’d ever see. Rossi hopped out of the car, giving Aaron a sympathetic look as he did so.

+++++

The team had been at the gas station for almost three hours, interviewing customers, collecting evidence, and talking to workers. Multiple people reported seeing a woman similar to who Aaron described enter the bathroom, but no one saw her leave.There was a window in the girl’s bathroom that had been broken from the inside, with blood on both the window and the glass. The forensics team ran the blood, and it was all from the same person.

Aaron didn’t need to hear the results to know whose blood it was. Spencer tried to help, informing him that she hadn’t bled out because women had approximately 4.5 pints of blood and that was at most half a pint, but Aaron cut him off. He couldn’t hear it, couldn’t listen to everyone talking about his girlfriend, the love of his life, as though she was already dead. He knew the odds, knew that she was almost certainly going to be dead within the first 72 hours, considering how the unsub had killed the other women.

He was going to find you alive. He knew it.

Because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he didn’t.

+++++

Everything was fuzzy and painful and oh my god what is that stuff coming out of your side and out of your hand and holy crap you can’t move you’re tied up what are you tied to what’s going on and-

“You’re even prettier than I remember.” The voice sounded familiar, but the only thing your brain could fully focus on at the moment was the excruciating pain. You felt a hand on your side, and then a searing pain that was somehow worse than the pain you’d already been feeling.

“You got a piece of glass in your side. I’m getting it out.”

You felt pressure on the spot, and forced your head to move so you could see what was going on.

He was wrapping your waist in some sort of bandage to staunch the bleeding. You forced yourself to look around the musty room you were in. You were seated in a chair, with your arms tied to the back of the chair by a coarse brown rope and a metal chain and heavy shackle attached to your left ankle. Your eyes followed the chain, to where it connected to a silver hook jutting from the wooden floor, which was coated in a layer of dirt.

Dirt.

You must be in a barn, or shed, or something. You definitely weren’t in New York City anymore.

You vaguely remembered what had happened in the gas station bathroom. There’d been a man waiting in the first stall, who jumped on you, shoving your head against the mirror hard enough to crack your skull. You figured that you’d blacked out, and he’d jumped the window with you in tow.

Then another memory washes over you like a tsunami, flooding you with regret.

Aaron said he loved you, and you didn’t say it back. Now, you might never get to tell him that you love him again.

+++++

Aaron removed himself from the case, leaving Rossi in charge. He knew he’d only slow everyone else down with the torrent of emotions dancing inside his skull. So now, he’s resorted to sitting in your hotel room alone, wishing he hadn’t told you to go to the hotel. He’d been crying for the first time in years.

Aaron had no clue what to do, and it gives him newfound respect for the families of abducted victims that he speaks to. He pulled the sparkling diamond ring he planned on giving you tonight out of his bag, staring at it and imagining it on your ring finger. It doesn’t make him happier, instead it just turns the steady stream of tears into a storm.

+++++

Morgan, Rossi, JJ, and Emily, seated at the silver table in the conference room, were going over every last piece of evidence they have, while Spencer made a map of the abduction sites as Agent Milenka told him the addresses. They already established that the victims were high-risk due to their above-average athleticism, and each victim was taken from a high-risk location. Spencer looked for any sense of a pattern in abduction sites, but couldn’t find one. Eventually, he sat down next to Morgan and Emily, defeated.

“So all we know is that he’s obsessed with Y/N, and that he wasn’t remorseful about the murders of the other women.” Derek sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, if he was able to subdue her, he most likely had the element of surprise. So, he probably isn’t physically strong, and needed that advantage to knock her out.” Rossi added, and Derek nodded.

Spencer looked up from the crime scene photos. “There’s no ligature marks.”

Derek nodded. “Yeah, we went over that. So?”

“Why knock the women out and transport them if you’re just going to kill them immediately instead of holding them somewhere? Why not just kill them wherever they already are?”

Emily’s mouth fell open. “Practice. So that when he had Y/N, he knew exactly what was going to happen. But he didn’t want to ruin the rest of the fantasy by taking someone else where he’s planned to keep Y/N. He wants that to be special.”

“So we know he’s going to be holding her somewhere secluded, then,” Milenka chimed in.

After a few moments of silence, the phone rang in the center of the table, and the team members all stared at it for a few moments before Derek turned to the computer next to him, where Garcia was currently on a video call with the team.

“Can you trace this call, babygirl?”

Garcia nodded. “I don’t have a trap and trace set up yet, but I can get one, honey. Just gimme one second.”

Derek’s hand hovered over the button on the receiver to answer the call, and when Garcia affirmed that she was ready, Derek pressed the button. Instantly, a somewhat timid male voice filled the room.

“Where’s Agent Hotchner? I want to speak to him, not any of you.”

The team shared a perplexed look, and Emily asked, “How do you know who is here and who isn’t?”

“The window’s open.”

JJ ran to the window, then turned. “He’s there,” she said, pointing to a man directly underneath where the conference window was with a phone to his ear.

The rest of the team sprinted down the stairs and out of the field office, with JJ not far behind. By the time they got to where the man had been, he was long gone. No one near the area said they’d seen him, either.

Derek turned and punched the wall out of rage, while Emily cursed loudly. The rapid darkening of the sky didn’t help with trying to catch an unsub, either.

Dejectedly, the team returned to the conference room, where Garcia excitedly said, “Your man forgot to hang up for a few minutes! I don’t know entirely where he went, but I know the direction he was headed!”

“Where, Garcia?” Spencer asked, desperate for a lead.

“Straight west.”

Spencer looked to Emily, who said, “Let’s go.”

+++++

The team knew the unsub needed somewhere secluded to keep you, but couldn’t figure out where. He’d been on foot when they’d seen him, so it had to be somewhat close. Or maybe he’d had a car in a parking lot somewhere? There were too many variables. They needed Hotch.

+++++

“Drink.”

The man held a cup to your lips, but you kept them closed tight. After trying to force you for a while, he gave up. Sighing, the man ran a hand through your hair, forcing your head upright. For a serial killer, he was surprisingly gentle.

“You need your strength,” the man murmured, but you looked away when he picked up the cup again. He set it down, shaking his head, then pulled a knife out of the back pocket of his blue jeans. You knew better than to scream. It was likely that he craved your pain, so allowing him that satisfaction would coax him to continue. He walked behind you, to where you wouldn’t see him. You closed your eyes, praying for a quick death, praying Aaron would find you, praying you could see your team one last time.

But you didn’t need to.

The man cut through the rope binding your wrists, then left the room. He was rarely in the room with you, and you wondered what he was doing outside of it. For the first time, however, he came back within a few minutes of leaving. You could theoretically move if you wanted to now that the rope was gone considering how long the chain attached to your leg was, but you were weak and hurting. The last thing you saw before your vision went black yet again was the man standing above you with a syringe.

+++++

Aaron was with the rest of the team, visiting each abduction site for something, anything to help the profile, when the unsub called him.

“This is Hotchner.”

“I have her, Agent Hotchner, and I treat her better than you ever could. You think what she needs is a big strong man to control her,” he mocked, “But you don’t truly love her. No one could, except me.” Although the man’s words were confident, he sputtered out the words like an old truck engine. It sounded like he was reading a script, as though he’d had to plan out what he was going to say beforehand. As soon as the unsub finished speaking, the tell-tale click of the phone hanging up sounded.

Emily, who’d been walking next to him, stopped, pulling out her phone to contact Penelope.

“Can you get the rest of the team on the line? I think Morgan and Reid are at the Central Park crime scene, and JJ and Rossi are probably still by Times Square.”

Emily could practically hear Penelope’s smile as she responded, “Can do, gorgeous.”

A few keyboard clicks later, Penelope stated, “You’ve got me, Morgan, Rossi, Reid,and JJ.”

Emily took a shaky breath before saying, “We think Y/N knew the unsub.”

“What do you mean, knew?” Reid’s voice sounded.

“He claimed that he loves her more than Aaron ever could. He thinks he knows her better than us, so he probably knew her when she used to live in New York.”

“She went to college here, didn’t she?” JJ responded.

Penelope chimed in, exclaiming, “She went to John Jay College of Criminal Justice. Graduated top of her class.”

Morgan cleared his throat, then added: “Maybe the unsub didn’t know her, but thought he did. He could’ve been stalking her when she lived here, then kept tabs on her when she transferred to the BAU years ago.”

“He probably found out about Y/N’s relationship with Aaron recently, and that’s his stressor.” Rossi added.

Emily stared into the distance. There was something off about this. The theory made sense, but at the same time, it felt, well, wrong.

Agent Milenka, who’d been surveying the crime scene Emily and Aaron were at, sauntered over.

“I know who did this.”

Aaron met her firm gaze, confused and intrigued.

“Who?”

“There was this guy she met at John Jay, didn’t talk much, but he ended up applying to the FBI just because she did. He made it in a few months after her and got a job as a forensic analyst at our field office here. They worked together pretty often, and he was never too strange, but you got the feeling there was something off. He started acting weird after Y/N’s transfer to the BAU. I ordered another psych eval for him a few months ago, and he failed. I fired him, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Aaron and Emily shared a look, both hopeful and sad.

“What’s his name?”

“Ian Foster.”

Aaron nodded, murmuring a quick thank you, then turned back to Emily.

“Call Garcia. We need all the information we can find on Ian Foster.”

+++++

Your head hurt. You were somewhere different now; the dirty brown floor had been replaced with plush white carpet, and the chair you’d gotten used to was gone. Your left leg was still shackled, but this time it was attached to a shiny metal spike in the center of the room. You surveyed your surroundings, noting the vast difference between your current location and your past one. The chain attached to your ankle was long, probably meant to give you full access to the room you were in but keep you from leaving. The walls were white and spotless, along with the queen-sized bed behind you and the dresser and vanity along the far wall. You knew you must look out of place compared to the neatness of your surroundings, with your frizzy, dirty hair and torn, wrinkled, and stained clothes. You realized that you’d never checked your holster for your gun, and in doing so, found it empty.

Great.

Sun shone through the window on your right, and birds chirped happily, as if mocking you. They were telling you that they’re free, while you’re locked in this stupid white room.

Your captor walked in soon after you woke up, and you knew he must be watching you through a camera hidden somewhere.

“Drink.”

Your eyes searched his face, trying to understand who he was, now that you had enough light to see.

“Foster?” You managed to croak out through your parched throat.

Ian nodded, then grabbed your face with one calloused hand, forcing you to open your mouth so he could pour water in, which you promptly spat into his eyes. Instead of causing him to stumble, all it did was make him laugh.

“I see you’re still as fiery as ever.”

You clamped your mouth shut, pursing your lips and staring him in the eyes until he left. After he was gone, you tried to move your arms as much as possible. Your limbs felt heavy, like you were attached to weights, but moving was somewhat possible, a little bit at a time.

For now, that would be enough. You just had to pray that Aaron could find you.

+++++

Ian Foster’s paper trail was a series of dead ends, but Penelope Garcia, being the lovely omnipotent being she is, was able to find two properties owned by his dead uncle in upstate New York that he was likely using to hold you.

Aaron couldn’t describe the relief that wrapped itself around him, like a soft blanket, when Garcia chirped that she’d found where he was. He’d refused to allow himself to think that you might be dead, and the knowledge that now he had your location was sweeter than any candy could ever be.

He wiped a tear from his eye that threatened to fall, and cleared his throat, nodding at Emily and Agent Milenka, wordlessly signaling her to join him as he ran towards the SUV they’d been using. Emily followed, calling JJ and Rossi to give them the address as she ran. The first property, an old farmhouse, was about 40 minutes away from their current location, while the second one, a pretty two-story house, was about three hours away. Hotch, Emily, and Milenka, being farthest from both locations, were driving to the house, while the rest of the team would check out the farmhouse first then meet them there.

+++++

There was this feeling, blossoming in your chest, comforting you, whispering that Aaron was on his way. You’d learned over the years that your instincts rarely lied to you, and you hoped to whatever God there was or wasn't, that this wasn’t one of the times they misled you.

So you knew what you had to do.

You acted nice every time Ian came to visit, roughly every half hour.

Then, after five visits, you drank the water he offered willingly. Gently, Ian helped you up off the ground, a gesture that would’ve been comforting had he not been a serial killer. He moved his hands until they were lightly situated on your waist, and gazed into your eyes with the crazed fanaticism of a deranged man. He leaned in for a kiss, and the second he closed his eyes, you drove your right knee directly into his crotch.

Serves him right for being dumb enough not to fully restrain you. While he doubled over in pain, stepping back, you set up for a roundhouse kick that you placed to the back of his knee, knocking him onto the ground in an ungraceful heap. While he was on the ground, you punched him in the throat with enough force to knock the wind out of him, leaving him gasping for air on the ground like a fish out of water. Sending another kick to his temple for good measure, rendering him unconscious, you searched his pockets for anything that could remove the shackle from your leg. Eventually, you settled for a wire cutter that you used to cut off the attaching chain, but your clumsiness left an angry gash in your leg in the process. Limping from exhaustion, you ran from the room as fast as you could with the pain in your side from the glass that had been lodged there and the blood from the cut in your skull dripping down your face and neck. Your head felt fuzzy and faint, and you knew you were likely to pass out from blood loss any second. You repeated Aaron’s name in your head like a mantra, telling yourself that you needed to get back to him first, then you could pass out from pain. Every part of your body ached, screaming at you to give up as you stumbled down the creaky carpeted stairs, leaving a trail of blood in your wake.

As you neared the foyer, you heard the engine of a car, along with footsteps. The door flew open, with Aaron directly behind it, followed by Morgan, Emily, Spencer, Rossu, and a few agents from the New York office. Aaron’s eyes scanned the room before settling on you, bloodied and bruised, and he ran to you, gathering you in his arms while you whimpered like a child. He whispered things in your ear that you couldn’t make out as you let the blackness at the edge of your vision take over.

+++++

Lights. Murmuring voices. Were you still in that house?

You opened your eyes to see two people, one man and one woman, leaving the room you were in. There was a pressure on your hand that scared you, and slowly, you turned your head to see the source of the sensation, and you were greeted with what was quite possibly the best view you’d ever laid eyes on: Aaron Hotchner asleep at your side, desperately clutching your hand.

“Aaron?” You murmured. He was a light sleeper, so you knew the sound would most likely wake him up. When it didn’t, you squeezed his hand while murmuring his hand again. His head jerked up, and his tired eyes met yours.

“Y/N.” His voice was filled with so much anxiety, grief, and regret that your heart shattered, as he reached up to ever-so-gently caress your face, then kissed you softly.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” His words took the broken pieces of your heart and smashed them again with a hammer, until you were sobbing against Aaron’s chest. He held you, and let you cry, becoming painfully aware of his inability to help in times like this. His specialty was catching criminals, not helping people through the trauma, and he entertained the thought of asking JJ to talk to you for a fleeting moment, before deciding that he couldn’t let you out of his sight for the time being.

After a few minutes, you sniffed and lifted your head to wipe away your tears, but Aaron did it before you could. You stared down at your side for a moment, watching the blood that seeped through the bandage every time you took a breath, while you gathered enough courage to speak without your voice wavering.

“I’m sorry. You told me you loved me, and I didn’t say it back, and that could’ve been the last-”

Aaron cut you off with a kiss, murmuring against your lips, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You sat in silence with him for a while, leaning your head against his shoulder as he stroked your hair. Eventually, Aaron broke the silence.

“I saw what you did to Ian.”

You choked out a laugh despite the pain that ripped through you while doing so. “Yeah, I left him in pretty bad shape, didn’t I?”

Aaron nodded, smiling. “I’m proud of you. Most people wouldn't be able to escape a serial killer.”

“Well, I’m not most people, Hotchner.”

“That’s for sure.”

+++++

The rest of the team left for D.C. the next morning, but Aaron stayed to drive you home once you were discharged from the hospital. First, however, he dropped you off at the FBI field office to talk with Agent Milenka while he called Jessica to ask if she’d mind watching Jack for a few more days, explaining what happened to you. She practically viewed you as a sister, and after recovering from the initial horror, was happy to agree.

“Hey, Y/N! You’re alive!” Agent MIlenka called brightly as you limped into her office, bumping your crutched on the doorframe.

You chuckled. “Sadly, I am. Aaron told me it was you who figured out Foster had taken me. How’d you know?”

Milenka shrugged. “I may not be a profiler, but I sure as hell can tell when someone’s not right. The guy went almost crazy when you left New York. It just made sense.”

“But if that was his stressor, he would’ve started murdering earlier.”

“We thought at first that finding out about you and Agent Hotchner might’ve been the stressor, but it was impossible to tell when he’d found out, so we switched gears. I fired Ian a few months ago because he’d just been getting worse and worse, and eventually was a liability on cases. The last straw was him failing his psych evaluation. Maybe he felt that losing his FBI job meant he lost his last chance to be with you if he’d been hoping to transfer to your unit someday.”

You nodded slowly. “That’s around the time the kidnappings started, isn’t it?”

Milenka nodded. The two of you stood in her office in comfortable silence for a bit, until she stood up from her desk, crossing the distance between you and engulfing you in a nervous hug. She pulled away fairly quickly, most likely out of fear of hurting you, and awkwardly patted you twice on the shoulder. “Take care, Agent.”

“You too, Milenka.”

You turned to go, but stopped when you heard Milenka call, “One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Hotchner’s a good guy. Don’t let that one get away.”

You merely offered her a smile, then strode out of her office as elegantly as one can with a limp.

+++++

The ride home was nice, full of easy discussion, laughter, and a few guilty looks that Aaron snuck at your stitched-up side, wishing he’d listened to you.

You made a joke he didn’t hear, and leaned over in your seat so you could wave a hand in front of his face, calling his name in a sing-song voice.

“Aaron, you good?”

Aaron shook his head slightly, rubbed his eyes, then turned towards you. “Yes?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

You hummed in affirmation, then turned towards the window. The rest of the drive was spent in comfortable silence, until you arrived at Aaron’s house. You spent practically all of your time there. Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d stepped foot into your apartment. Aaron helped you into the house and to your shared bed, where you passed out immediately. You vaguely heard a soft whisper of “sleep well” before you were out cold.

Aaron watched you for what felt like hours, feeling pent-up stress and anger roll off of him in waves as he silently stroked your hair, grateful beyond words that you’d lived. You murmured something in your sleep that sounded suspiciously like “I love you,” before rolling over to curl against his chest, nuzzling your head against the crook of his neck. And for the first time in days, he allowed himself a smile. Aaron basked in the rare feeling of relaxation, thinking about how nice it would be to bottle up this feeling and keep it forever, until sleep finally pulled him into its soft clutches. And for once, with you safely nestled into him, he slept easily. He still hadn’t proposed, but that was okay. Now that you were safe, you two had all the time in the world.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #crimnal minds #criminal minds fluff #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner smut #Penelope Garcia #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan

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blackradandmad · 3 years

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why blippi is rotting yr children's brains

preface: i literally expect no one to read this. it is an essay length, strong opinion piece critiquing a niche youtube-based children's show that i don't expect most of y'all to even have knowledge of lol. but like, i promise that even if you know nothing about what i'm talking about, in my incredibly, super humble opinion, it's a good piece of writing and interesting nonetheless. anyway if you read this whole thing for some reason yr really hot and we should kiss.

i thoroughly vet everything my child watches before he watches it, episode by episode. and we rarely watch youtube for entertainment; we usually just look up educational videos when he has a question about something and wants more detail than i can provide him. and that's mainly because children's content on youtube is so fucking troubling and distressing. i don't judge parents who give their children a tablet at a restaurant at all bc i've been there and sometimes it's easier on everyone to just put on a video and avoid a giant scene, but i do judge parents who just leave their children alone with youtube kids on autoplay.

take stevin john, a literal millionaire who got famous from dressing up as a silly character called blippi and going on tours of places like aquariums, zoos, construction sites, etc and posting it on youtube. this has branched into a whole empire of blippi videos, hulu shows and specials, live shows and tours (that he outsources to another character actor), merchandise and so on. this 30-something year old man cites his main influence as being mr. rogers, but i question if he's ever even seen an episode of that program.

mr. rogers had no background in early childhood development or media production, but he revolutionized the world of children's media, because he respected his audience and didn't shy away from real world situations, all while creating a show with an enormous heart. mr. rogers begins his episodes by inviting the viewer in, literally changing his attire to be more comfortable, and talking about/doing things he genuinely cares about. whereas mr. rogers calmly and maturely addresses the viewer, blippi puts on a high pitched, contrived voice, interjecting every other sentence with a forced exclamation such as, "teehee! we're having so much fun!"

i don't find it a coincidence that john (blippi) is a veteran, either. his videos are completely devoid of the absurd, abstract, childlike thinking that makes children's media fun, creative, and entertaining. his thinking and process is methodical, devoid of emotion, and very superficial. this line of thinking clearly shows the kind of creative sterilization and emphasis on sameness and conformity instilled in the military. blippi simply observes things and interacts with them in a stale, matter-of-fact way. "this ball is purple! this ball is pink! anyway... what's over there? teehee! a car! vroom, vroom!" objects are colors, toy cars don't do anything but drive, curiosity is simply not encouraged.

he uses the "it's educational!" excuse to hide the fact that his show lacks everything that makes media a valuable resource for children to consume in the first place. further than identifying colors, numbers, and the occasional letter or shape, there is just this total lack of children's need for social and emotional development. when mr. rogers breaks the fourth wall to address the viewer and let them know they're special, it feels authentic and natural, because we've spent the last half hour building whole worlds with diverse characters and unique stories in a pretend neighborhood, learning about and enjoying different musical instruments, being exposed to and making friends with (even if parasocially, it is still a real bond to children when done properly) children who are similar to us in character regardless of physical or environmental differences, feeding the fish, making art together, and so on. when blippi tells the viewer, "you are very special, and i enjoy spending time with you!" it falls completely flat and feels unearned, because the last half hour was spent running around a soft play center pointing at bright, colorful objects, visiting interesting locations like farms or fruit production factories while failing to acknowledge the humanity of the humans actually working there (everything is machine or product focused; the human workers are simply an extension of the machine), learning "fun facts" about elephants that just list attributes of elephants, not taking the opportunity to inform the viewers of elephants' intelligence, or diet, or matriarchal society. it is a loud, sensory overwhelming display of a man so disconnected from the social and emotional needs and desires of children that he assumes they're stupid, easily entertained idiots who only need some silly dances and fast-moving cartoon graphics to give their attention (meaning time and desire to purchase products meaning $$$). john clearly views his audience as a means to gaming the algorithm and ultimately a paycheck by the hollow way he addresses them.

the show is so narcissistic, so focused on all the fun blippi is supposedly having, but he lacks any of the character traits that make individual children's show hosts memorable, so much so that he was able to have someone else who doesn't even vaguely resemble him dress as blippi and impersonate him and host the show or appear at live shows, and it went unnoticed by most of his toddler and child audience. the show is so formulaic and the character of blippi is so unmemorable that instead of taking the blue's clues route of developing a story of the host leaving for college and his brother now stepping in, or making some sort of believable excuse for the change in actors, they can simply swap him out with some random guy and not acknowledge it at all. although a comedy show for older children, the amanda show in no way could or would try to replicate the show with the same name but swapping out amanda bynes with a random teenage girl who is clearly not amanda bynes. it's weird and nonsensical and shows that his character is so much of a farce put on for a paycheck that not even his dedicated audience is affected or even cares when he is replaced by a random, unknown person.

this is completely garbage content made by an opportunist with no experience with children who saw his nephew watching children's youtube content, took it at complete surface level and still hasn't realized that while children's content only looks and feels so easy, entertaining, and enriching because it is so hard to do well. even with outsourcing his music, that aspect of the show still sucks. famous and successful children's musician, raffi, is known for his song describing the life of a little white whale, called "baby beluga." it opens with a calm strumming of his guitar, followed by the lyrics, "baby beluga in the deep blue sea/swim so wild and you swim so free/heaven above/sea below/and a little white whale on the go." is it silly and kind of pointless? yes, but the point is that he is captivating children and showing them the fun of listening to music, dancing, singing, and appreciating art. the "excavator song" featured in an episode of blippi about construction vehicles opens with what sounds like a default garageband loop and the flatly sung lyrics, "i'm an excavator/i'm an excavator/hey dirt, see you later/i'm an excavator." i don't feel i have to meticulously analyze the aforementioned lyrics; the stark contrast should speak for itself.

i have a million more criticisms about both blippi specifically and youtube children's content as a whole, but this is already so long and i doubt many people will get this far anyway. it's an issue i was completely apathetic towards until i had my own child and had to wean him off these kinds of junk food shows because i realized the fast-paced visuals and bright colors and repetitive songs/lyrics were putting him in this spaced-out, fugue state, and he thought he could demand this show or that show whenever he wanted. the moment he started regularly yelling things like, "watch! cars!" or "no! click it!" i knew i had to be a lot more invested in the things he watched even if just for entertainment or as a soothing message. i showed him an episode of mr. rogers yesterday and feared it would be too slow to hold his attention, but he was mesmerized, greeting and interacting with mr. rogers verbally, asking me, "what's that?" to different objects on the screen. since purging this low-brow children's entertainment, he has had a noticeable increase in attention span and concentration, can focus on a task for longer amounts of times, is more likely to "read"/look through books without me initiating it, and doesn't throw a fit when the tv/my laptop is off.

i just know that for me, growing up with so much unsupervised internet access definitely led me to real-world pain and consequences, and it seems like now children are born with an iphone as an extension of their arm. if my child is going to be consuming videos, i'm definitely supervising every second and am going to be highly critical of the videos and the credentials (or lack thereof) of the creators and team behind it. but i also know, from pure observation admittedly, that parents letting youtube kids autoplay parent their children for hours at a time is not an uncommon occurrence. and it worries me that a generation of children are being raised on videos that rely on being as loud and bright and superficially enjoyable as possible. what's the use of a child knowing their colors and alphabet if they don't know how to treat people with kindness and empathy and respect? there is something wrong for a children's show host to plug the spelling of his name at the end of his videos ("well, that's the end of this video. but if you wanna watch more of my videos, just type in my name! can you spell my name with me? b-l-i-p-p-i!") after essentially rotting his audiences' brains for a half hour. there's something so insidious about the prioritization of naming different parts of construction vehicles over honest depictions of and conversations about dealing with feelings, or why someone with autism may act differently than you, or what to do when you feel lonely, or ways to make art and express yrself creatively. also, not to mention the blatant police propaganda and outright worship is seriously jarring; as a black mother to a visibly non-white child, i cannot sit there and watch blippi show kids how to be a bootlicker for the shittiest profession on earth, but that could be a whole essay in and of itself.

anyway, thanks for reading, if yr looking for quality children's content, i recommend, in no specific order: mr. rogers, sesame street, the electric company, molly of denali, daniel tiger, bluey!, blue's clues, the odd squad, word party, trash truck, puffin rock, uhh... that's definitely not an extensive list but that's just off the dome!!! ok bye y'all <333

#lil rambles #long post t #idk why it's formatted like this ig cos i copy pasted from my fb?#whatever anyway idk why i waste my writing skills on shit literally nobody else but me cares abt #blippi #children's television

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bts-teaspoonff · 3 years

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Reward

Genre: Smut with slight plot, Polyamory

Pairing: Yoongi x reader, Hoseok x reader, Yoongi x Hoseok

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: A well-deserved break after weeks of stress from work. Your boyfriend decided to give you a reward. You didn't know that he was not the only one eager to give you a reward.

Warnings: NSFW, double penetration, double creampie, unprotected s*x (still do safe s*x, kids!), slight degradation, cum eating, oral (F receiving, M receiving), implied!sub Yoongi, implied!dom reader, role!switch Yoongi, role!switch reader, Dom!Hoseok, anal s*x, vaginal s*x, love biting, cheek slapping (but not intense), choking (y/n’s not abused, y'all), A VERY IMPATIENT Y/N

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: This is actually inspired by their *chuckles* iconic japanese song, Otsukare. The closest translation in English would be “Thanks for your hard work”. Seriously, you guys need to watch their SOPE and OT7 performance of the song! You will laugh your ass off..

It’s been almost a month since you and your team have been burning blood, sweat and tears into this one specific medical case. Working as a medical intern with plentiful senior doctors piling every work on interns is brutal, however you just wade through everything since you did land an internship spot in the most prestigious hospital in the country. You do live in a decent apartment with a nice view you might say, but recently, you’ve been taking refuge in the intern’s lounge for almost a month already. All you want is to caress the soft material of your favorite linen and spend a week on your bed without getting out of it.

Today’s different. You and your fellow interns have cracked the case and have just finished presenting it to a panel of senior doctors. It’s also nice now that the patient in the said case can now breathe a lot easier since there is a higher chance of survival with our proposed medical management. You truly can’t wait to get home.

You also haven’t seen Yoongi, your boyfriend, for almost three weeks. Video calls and missed opportunities was your love story with him since you’ve handled the killer case.

He was very understanding of your situation, especially when you did try to visit him in his apartment one day. You were so drained but you still kept your promise to him for a ‘Movie and Taco Tuesday Night’. Just fifteen minutes into the movie, you were dead asleep on his couch. Sometimes, you even fell asleep while on a video call with him. You felt ashamed that you apologized to him non-stop for a week. He told you that he could compromise so he started visiting you in the hospital. Of course, that was also futile. Both of you would plan to eat lunch together but as soon as you were in each other’s company, beeps from your pager will end your short bout of joy.

You bombarded Yoongi with texts and voice messages that you’re finally free from the shackles of the said case. This weekend will the first whole break you’ve been rewarded with since last month. You receive a text from him asking if there’s any way you could spend the whole weekend with him in his apartment. You knew what he meant and you can’t deny that there’s a part of you expecting something to happen as well. Come on, you haven’t touched or caressed your boyfriend for almost a month. You’re too deprived and sexually frustrated. This is no time to be shy about it, not that both of you are shy with each other.

“But how about Hoseok? Won’t he be there?” Oh Hoseok. What a beautiful human. You’ve been together with Yoongi for almost a year already, and they’ve been roommates for the same amount of time. The three of you just clicked together ever since the start.

You met Yoongi through a common friend. Didn’t start officially dating one another until two months later. You would always tease him about it because he took so long to ask for a date just because he felt intimidated by you. You were more of a strong-independent and outgoing type of woman and he was quiet and reserved. It took a month before both of you started bringing each other to your respective apartments. There you met Hoseok. It didn’t take much and it felt natural to be friends with him. Maybe because it felt like the both of you were the same side of a coin.

You used to think that Yoongi and Hoseok were two poles opposite from each other, but you soon realize that’s the best thing about the two of them. That’s why you and Yoongi felt perfect for each other as well.

Although you love your boyfriend dearly, you can’t deny that a small bit of you has been attracted to his roommate. Apart from having a lot of similarities with each other, you do feel that sometimes you share the same mind waves as him. One day when Yoongi was so sick, the two of you left work for the day to stay and care for him. You were amazed that Hoseok knew what he was doing and was really frantic if what he was doing was enough. Seeing somebody else care and love your boyfriend this much warms your heart.

You do try to avoid letting your feelings for him grow any further since Yoongi is your soulmate. You could give the world to Yoongi, that’s how much you love him, and it swells your heart to know that he feels the same for you. You won’t do anything to hurt your precious boyfriend. Ruining their friendship is also the last thing on your mind. You just remind yourself to keep your small fire for Hoseok under control or put out, if possible.

“He said don’t worry about it. He’ll find a way to stay out of our way for the weekend.” Pleased with Yoongi’s reply, you can’t stop thinking of various ways to spend your night with your boyfriend.

With that, you arrive at his apartment that night. Yoongi opens the door, greeting you. You dropped the bags in your hands to the floor and jumped to embrace him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around your body. He noticed the fresh smell of your strawberry shampoo, a scent he truly missed.

You start to slowly kiss his neck and soon, you felt his hands grip your waist tighter. “Ummm, kitten?” He does enjoy you pouncing on him as soon as you arrived at his apartment but someone from across the room is eyeing the two of you. Your hands start to comb through his hair when he slightly pushed you, stopping you from teasing Yoongi. “Hoseok is still here.” He turns his head to the direction of his roommate and you followed.

Hoseok sat quietly on the other side of the kitchen counter, sipping his water while staring at the two of you. You straighten out yourself, ashamed at being caught in the act by Hoseok. “Don’t mind me. It’s not like it’s my first time catching the two of you in the act.” He quietly laughs as he took another gulp, completely teasing you.

“Don’t tease her, Hoseok.” Yoongi pats your head as he sees you turn shy at Hoseok’s teasing.

“It’s cute that you let her pounce on you every time she thinks you two are finally alone. So hungry for Yoongi?” Hoseok giggles as you shot a hawkish gaze at him. He gets up and took his bag from the chair beside him as he walks towards the two of you, or rather the door. You glance at the darkness outside the window and at your watch.

“Isn’t it too late for a drive?” You ask Hoseok as he pat your boyfriend goodbye before turning to you.

“I’m fine. Why? You worried about me?” He leans down, eyes meeting yours. He pats your head teasingly and you jokily swat it off. “Besides, aren’t you glad you finally have some alone time? This is my reward to you, little girl.”

“Little girl? I may be smaller but I’m older than the two of you!” Yoongi and Hoseok, focused entirely on your face, watched as you apparently try to make your point.

“Yes, we know kitten, by one year… as you constantly try to remind us.” Yoongi hugs you from behind. “Get on with it. Drive safe!” He hits Hoseok by the arm and they did their handshake. Hoseok also lightly hits your arm before opening the door and walking out, leaving you and your boyfriend finally alone in the apartment.

You both swiftly turn to each other at the same time after the realization that you’re finally alone with each other, amusing the both of you. You let out a smile full of sweetness with eyes almost glistening with longingness for Yoongi.

“I missed you, Yoongi.”

“You don’t how much I missed you too, my kitten.”

That nickname. When was the last time you heard the sound of his voice call you like that? You love it. He apparently can call you that in 100 ways possible. Most of the time, you do love it when he’s screaming it while you overdose him with pleasure.

“Should we watch a movie or something?” You suggest as you turn back to get your bags, carefully grabbing the bag filled with food that you plan to cook for him until tomorrow.

“Pass. I think we should start putting that toy to good use.” Yoongi grumbled in a very low tone as he slowly walked to you, bent forward in front of him. It’s been too long since he had a taste of you. Just by smelling you when you arrived already made him so hard in his pants. He bent down to you letting his body fall on your back. You slowly felt his hands crawl from your shoulders down to your hands. “I’ll be taking that promise now.” His breath brushing past your ear made you wet, shivering from anticipation.

A week ago, you may have promised something to Yoongi. When you’re finally done with the case, you promised him that you’ll allow him to dom you. Usually, it’s been always you who’s taking charge in the bedroom and Yoongi being the sub. You absolutely love seeing your boyfriend submitting to you in the bedroom. Although Yoongi is not really a dedicated sub, he loves it when you tell him that it feels so good acting all your fantasies in the relationship. You were the kinkier and more insatiable one between the two of you so he lets you lead. Tonight, you’ll be giving all the reins to Yoongi so when he knew that you’ll be staying with him this weekend, he texted you the lists of toys to bring.

“What do you want me to do?” You stood up and turned to face him. Yoongi understood what you’re asking of him. You are now submitting to him. His chest starts to swell up inside at finally having the chance to reverse the roles between the two of you.

“Start by calling me Sir.” Yoongi grabbed your chin, lightly tapping your cheeks. You gaze at his hooded eyes, now filled with desire and hunger to dominate you, making you starved to get a taste of him. “Kneel.” He pushed you down by your shoulders as he zips open his pants.

His cock sprung out of his pants, hitting you on the cheek. The enticing smell overwhelmed you. You deeply breathed to inhale his musk as your nose hit the tip of his cock. He gulped at the sight of you hungry for his cock. Your hands wandered towards his member when you heard Yoongi click his tongue. You open your eyes and gazed above. “You’ll only do what I tell you to do, understood?” a more commanding tone vibrated out of Yoongi, slightly surprising you at how he exudes himself right now. He brushed his thumb along your lower lips. “Answer me, kitten.” He tightens his grasp on your chin.

“Yes, sir.” You dropped your hands beside you as you let Yoongi, with his cock in hand, brush himself on your lips.

“Good girl.” He continues to swipe the tip of his cock, smearing his pre-cum on your lips. You hold yourself back from licking him and swallowing him whole. Every fiber of your being is getting impatient and just wants to stuff his cock inside your mouth this instant but a promise is a promise. You just have to wait and let him lead. “Stick out your tongue.”

He relishes the sight of you kneeling down for him, tongue out waiting for his cock. He put both of his hands in front of him against the wall as he aligns his cock in the tip of your tongue. “Purple is our safe word. You understand?” He gazes down at you, nodding enthusiastically.

Not soon after, he starts thrusting his cock so deep inside your mouth. Your head is pushed against the wall along with the rhythm and force of each thrusts. Something about his cock just satisfies you perfectly. The length is just enough to gag you but the girth, oh the girth. It hurts your jaw every time you suck him and if you had too much, you know you’re gonna have a hard time chewing your food tomorrow.

Sloppy sounds from the two of you started to fill up the room. Yoongi continues to bury his cock in your throat. He did stay deep for a few seconds a few times, grinding himself on you as you find difficulty to gasp for air. Tears started welling up in your eyes and Yoongi got concerned. You felt him pull away slightly but you assured him quickly that you’re fine. You know yourself that you won’t use the safe word tonight. You never did get to use it ever with Yoongi.

He gripped your neck, ever so slightly choking you as he pulls you to stand and leads you to the living room couch. He pushed you back to crash down on the soft couch. Quickly and not a second more, he crashed his lips with yours. Overwhelmed by the burning contact that’s long overdue, both of you breathed deeply as you allow each other to get intoxicated. Your hands tightly gripped the coach at both sides, controlling yourself from disobeying Yoongi. His tongue starts to lap at your sweet soft lips and continue to coil its way to your tongue.

Yoongi started moaning as he closed the distance between his crotch and your thighs. You felt him grind himself on you and your thighs started squirming at the sight of Yoongi satisfying himself on you. “Open, kitten.” He pushed your mouth open once more with his thumb. “Look at how hungry my kitten is for me. You’re so good for me.” He spits, letting his spit travel down slowly to your mouth. He chuckles at the sight of you swallowing for him.

“Sir, I want your cock now please?” Your thighs squirmed some more, wiggling while tightly closed together.

Yoongi clicked his tongue once more. “You’ve always been impatient. Always skipping foreplay and straight to fucking.”

“But sir, I’m really hungry for your cock.” You beg and whine.

“Good girls get rewards. Am I right, kitten? I have to prepare you well for what’s in store for tonight.” He bends down as he spreads your legs. Your thighs pushed towards you. He groans when he lifts up your skirt, noticing that you chose to come here without any underwear. He glared at you remembering that if he did not control himself a while ago when you were kissing him when you arrived, he could have lifted your skirt right then with Hoseok still present in the room.

“See? I am always so wet for you Sir. I can take your cock right now.” Your pussy, glistening with juices, further inviting him to devour you. He licks his lips before kissing your inner thigh.

“My kitten. When was the last time you touched yourself?” His breathe tickled your clit just as he let his nose slightly touch your clit. Yoongi sees you attempting to grind yourself to his face, impatient for his touch. You bit your lip as you stare and wait for your boyfriend. “Answer me when I ask you a question.” You gasp at the sudden bite on your inner thigh, soon followed by a warm lick from his feverish wet tongue.

“I have not touched myself for three weeks, sir. I really need your cock now, sir. Please.” You whine as you try to hold back your tears.

“Such a hardworking girl. I see you deserve a big reward.” He pulls the lips of your pussy to the side, making it taut and your clit standing to attention. He quickly swiped his tongue up your slit, finally tasting your juices dripping out from your pussy. He could say all kinds of profanities just from tasting you. You scratched and gripped what was around you at the overwhelming sensation. Yoongi continues to flick his tongue swiftly against your clit, followed by slurping and sucking. You arch your back as your hands finds its place on Yoongi’s hair.

His fingers soon landed on the rim of your pussy. He thrusts two inside very deeply, curling it to find your g-spot. You try to cover your mouth to prevent yourself from screaming at the intense pleasure. You’ve been so deprived of any touch for three weeks that just his tongue is enough to make you cum in seconds. However, you try your best to hold it out.

Yoongi fondles your breast with his hand as he licks your clit, while his other hand never faltering from fucking you. Seeing you lose yourself from his touch is making him drunk. He never saw you this submissive with him. With this, he adds another finger in your pussy. He licks your clit furiously as he sees you desperate to scream louder but you bite your lips to hold back. “Do you want to come, kitten?”

You gaze at him, furiously nodding. Begging to be allowed to reach your high. You see him smirk as he continues to thrust his fingers inside you. A second after, he pulled it all out, leaving you surprised and craving for him to return his fingers inside you. “Not yet. We still have to use this.” He lifts up a metal anal plug. He hands out the toy to let it touch your lips. Your eyes stay glued to him as you let your mouth open, sucking the toy. You see him staring at your mouth, licking his lips at how dirty you look right now.

The metal felt cold as it hits your tongue and teeth. You swirled your tongue around the bulbed end and he pulled it out of your mouth. He quickly pushed it inside your pussy without falter. He pulls it in and out twice to lubricate the toy with your juices before stopping just on the entrance of your ass.

You squirm as you felt the toy slowly stretching your behind. The sensation and stretch is too much for your first time. He doesn’t push everything at once, but slowly pulling it in and out as he slowly lets you adjust. He sees you shaking once he did push the entire plug inside you.

He wiped a strand of hair clinging on your sweaty forehead. Despite looking so fucked out, you’re still the most beautiful person he ever saw. You exchange a few seconds of sweet gazes before he inserted three fingers inside your pussy again while his other hand pulls the plug in and out.

“Oh my fuck… Yoongi. I’m gonna..” You came undone as he increased his speed from fucking you after he sees you writhing in reaching your high. You felt washed over with pleasure, vision hazy and ears ringing.

Yoongi still continued to thrust his fingers and the plug as you slowly finish. A sounding pop came from his fingers pulling out of you. He puts his fingers in his mouth, savoring your sweet taste of ecstasy. He curses, eyes closed, as he relishes the familiar taste.

The plug still within your puckered ass, you crawled back to the couch as you try to chase your breathing. Yoongi proceeds to walk back to the bag you left just near the door and when he came back to you, he pulled out a blindfold and a huge 8 inch pink dildo from your bag and placing it on the table in front of you. Yoongi, now fully naked, stood tall as he beckons you to remove all your clothes. “Stand up and sit down on my cock.”

Yoongi grins as he sees you eagerly standing up and waits for him to sit down. As soon as he sat down, he pats his thigh to gesture you to finally have what you’ve been eagerly waiting for. You turn around and before you sat down, you try to pull out the plug. Yoongi sees this and smacks your ass, granting a whimper from you. “I thought I told you not to do anything unless you’re told to. Keep it in!”

He groans like a beast from behind you as he placed both his hand on your waist. He pulls you down and lets his cock claim your pussy not a moment long. You whimper at the violent stretch and even more so when Yoongi started furiously humping his hips off the couch to fuck you harder. You noodle out sensual and erotic moans as you place your hands behind you and on Yoongi’s chest. “You’re so fucking tight.” He squeezed your waist so hard that the ache lingered when his hands left your skin. “You’re milking me. I won’t last if you’re this tight.” He lets out a guttural groan while he inch closer to your body. He marks you intensely on the crook of your neck. His hands wandered in front of you and tightly squeezed your breasts.

It feels so nice and naughty as you submit to the bliss of your love making. The pain from his rough hands is so gentle yet very shameless as well. He felt like a lion starving for his prey, you, who is presented on a silver platter. Every thrust of his cock feels primal. This reversal of roles is new to both of you but you find yourself finely adjusting.

“Do you want me to fill your ass with my hot…and sticky cum?” He sensually whispers into your ears. You quickly turn intoxicated with his erotic voice, scorching hot inside your chest and seeping wet from your pussy at the thought of him equally fucking your hard from your ass.

“Yes, sir. I would love that.” You turn your face to the side, surprising him with a slow and succulent lick across his lips. You felt like a drug to Yoongi, being this submissive to his every whim and drunk on sex. Something good actually came out from having to part with you for three weeks.

He pushes you off and eyes the anal plug still attached to you. He did not expect you to suddenly shake and cum again after he pulled out the plug. You dropped down with legs buckling, but he caught you in time just before you hit the floor. “Are you okay? Is it too much?” He lets you support yourself, bending forward and hands on the table. He bent down with his chest on your back, cock still erect touching your pussy. You chase your breathing and took your time before you answered him.

“I’m okay baby. Just getting used to this new you.” You giggled as you kiss his cheeks. “I promise to use our safe word if it’s too much.” He laughs as he felt you wiggle your butt on his cock.

“Always hungry for me, kitten?” he lets his hands comb through your hair before pulling it all back. You straighten your back, presenting your ass to him. He holds his cock in his hand, aligning it with your tight puckered muscle. “Put the blindfold and get the dildo, sweet kitten.” He lets go of your hair and allows you to bend forward to get the items he asked. You strap the blindfold on and blindly let your hand wander on the table to get the dildo.

As you were about to stand up back to him, you sense a slow shapely pressure on your ass as Yoongi tries to enter you. The unfamiliar and new stretch had you delirious from the pain and pleasure. You both find yourself breath taken as you wander through uncharted waters. Your tightness from behind is nothing compared to your pussy. If you had known how intense and sweet this was, you would have said yes to Yoongi to try this months ago. Yoongi hesitates to push his entire length on you, still taking his sweet time to let you adjust. However, you're patience is nearing its limit with Yoongi’s pace.

You push yourself back on him towards the couch, letting the both of you crash down. You scream at the intense sudden pain of having his cock rapidly filling you up when you fell on his lap. You lean your head back on his shoulder as he allow your scream to die down.

“How many times have I told you to obey me?” He squeezes your cheek, stealing the dildo from your hands. “I’m in charge here, not you kitten.” Yoongi smacking the dildo on your clit has your squirming and closing your legs. You can’t see anything and every sense you have seems to have heightened. “Remember who’s in charge or else, you’ll be punished.”

He gathers the dildo on the entrance of your pussy, lathering your juices around. “Punish me, baby. I’ve been a very impatient and disobedient girl.” You’ve now adjusted well to his cock. Yoongi saw you grind yourself on him, whining for more.

You hear him deeply chuckle then the dildo swiftly entered you until you felt it hit your womb. You try to suppress your voice and Yoongi felt this so he hooked his two fingers in your mouth, playing with your tongue to allow you to let your moans out. The merciless plunge of his cock in your ass and the unrelenting force of the dildo overwhelmed you. It was insane being fucked full by your boyfriend. You were submitting but you never felt this strong and satisfied when you were the one taking charge. The pain, the pleasure and the raw savageness of helplessness made you feel alive.

You respond to his each thrust with untamed moans, hands wandering on his body. You felt completely exposed and unguarded. “Tell me, kitten…” you continue to yield and moan for him when he whispered erotically in your ear. “Are you imagining somebody else’s cock inside your pussy filling you right now instead of the dildo?”

Your moans disappeared as you try to comprehend your boyfriend’s question. However, he continues to thrust in your ass and pussy, making your mind a mush. “I…”

“I think you have someone in mind and it’s not me, kitten.” His erect cock delved deep inside your ass, frozen from thrusting inside you. Although, he continues to push the dildo in and out with a force so savage, you can feel it bruising the entrance of your womb. “I’ve seen how you look at him. Do you wish that his cock should be the one fucking your pussy full right now?”

He gripped your chin with his other hand as you felt words stuck in your throat. You felt your chest tighten at the sudden confrontation. You don’t know if Yoongi is angry and punishing you right now because you can’t see him. He wouldn’t shame you like this normally so you don’t know if this is just the dirty talk or his true feelings. “Sir, I don’t…” you get caught up in your words as your blindfold is starting to get moist from your impending tears.

“I’m not angry kitten. I just want to hear what you truly feel. Whose cock, aside from mine, should be fucking you right now?”

It took you a while to get the knot out of your chest but you did. “I want Hoseok’s! Hoseok’s cock should be fucking me hard right now in the pussy while you destroy my ass!” You screamed. Yoongi slows the pace of the dildo in your pussy and pulls it out. You slumped on him, hungry for a reaction from your boyfriend. The blindfold is not helping the turmoil inside your chest. You want to face him and look straight at him to understand what kind of face he might be making right now.

“Good kitten.” He groaned from behind as he take the blindfold off you. You pry open your eyes, adjusting to the light. A naked figure stood in front of you as you rub your eyes to register the sight. Hoseok was standing tall in front of you and Yoongi, naked in all his glory and stroking his cock.

You jump slightly in your place but Yoongi pushes you back down, granting a sensual quiet moan from you since his cock is still deep in your ass. “Hoseok?!?....Why is he here?”

“This is your reward, little girl.” He continues to stroke his cock in front of you, smugly smirking to look at your boyfriend.

“It’s okay, kitten. I know you want this too.” Yoongi placed his chin on your shoulder as you’re still staring at Hoseok’s face. You turn to your boyfriend and you both stare at each other for a few seconds. You try to read his eyes, unsure if you’re really allowed to finally act on your feelings

“I don’t want to do this if you don’t, baby…” He sensed your panic so he cupped your cheeks to kiss you. A slow and sweet exchange of your lips made you understand that he really is letting you go ahead. He parts with your lips and sweetly gazed at you.

“I want this as well. Go ahead.” Yoongi nods his head to Hoseok, prompting you to allow yourself to submit to both of them. “This is okay. Take care of our girl, Hoseok. I trust you both.” You face Hoseok, who’s still furiously pumping himself to you. With the permission of his older roommate, Hoseok now shamelessly takes in your naked figure as he licks his lips.

He’s been wanting this for so long as well. He developed feelings for Yoongi first, when they became roommates. He’s been so good at hiding it not until Yoongi introduced you to him. At first, he was jealous and irritated whenever you would visit and stay at their apartment. The longer you spent time with Hoseok, he also found himself loving you. Hearing you come undone and screaming with Yoongi every night with just a wall separating him from the two of you was brutal. He loved you both, wanting to touch you and Yoongi as well. He was determined to keep it all a secret up until when Yoongi confronted him.

Yoongi suspected Hoseok has feelings for you with how he acted every time you were with the two of them. Of course, he felt something from you as well. Being quiet and reserved meant that he was very good at reading everybody else’s expressions and feelings. He was proven right when Hoseok confessed with his feelings towards you when he tried to confront him. He was taken by surprise though when Hoseok confessed to loving him as well. He didn’t expect it but also didn’t dislike it. Maybe something in him also feels something for his younger roommate. They did talk it out and came to a conclusion to talk to you about it. Yoongi was the one who initiated the surprise threesome. Hoseok wasn’t on board with it at first but now that you’re here, he’ll accept everything even if you reject him.

You let your lust and feelings take over you. You wait for either of them to command you. Hoseok sees your eyes change from reluctant to now willing to submit to him. He takes it as your acceptance of him. He groans as he walks closer to you, cock in your face. His cock smelled amazing. You take in the unfamiliar yet enticing smell as you sniff his shaft, granting a groan from the two males at the sight of you.

“Suck me now, little girl.” You opened your mouth to invite him in. Hoseok leans his head back as euphoria hits him from the satisfaction of having your warm and wet mouth capture his cock. His cock was different from Yoongi. He’s not as girthy as your boyfriend but the length is amazing. Your mouth is already full but there’s still enough left for your hand to play with. “Fuck, I can’t handle this. You feel amazing.” Hoseok wraps his hands on your hair as he started to furiously rock deep inside your mouth. You could feel him reach your throat. Your moans, now muffled by the huge cock occupying your mouth. Hoseok could come apart right there at the sight of your throat bulging from his cock and from the vibrations of your throat as you try to moan loudly, when Yoongi started tapping Hoseok’s hand away from your head.

“I said take care of her, not kill her.” Hoseok loses his hold on your head when he heard Yoongi as he pulled out of your mouth. You gagged and coughed but you swat your hands at them.

“Yoongi, I’m fine. I actually like it.” You swipe the drool off your lips and turned to face your boyfriend. “I’m not using my safe word, am I? So get on with it and fuck my ass full!” Yoongi and Hoseok, surprised at your outcry and commanding tone, just went quiet.

“I didn’t hear you calling him Sir, did I?” Hoseok grabbed your chin and lightly slapped you. “Did he allow you to take over? No! You’re our slut tonight so just obey us.” You were taken aback at Hoseok’s change in demeanor. You were a dom to Yoongi, but Hoseok felt different. You shiver in your place, unfamiliar with the feeling of fear from disobeying the sultry man in front of you. With Yoongi, you were willing to act as a sub tonight but it felt like you were really a sub to Hoseok.

All you do was agree as he slaps you once more in the cheek. It was not painful as you imagined. You know Hoseok still cared for you and wouldn’t really hurt you so you find yourself relaxing under Yoongi, waiting patiently for Hoseok to now command the two of you under him. “Fuck her hard, Yoongi, so that she knows her place. I’ll make sure to fill her pussy to the brim.” He licks his lips as both you and Yoongi stare at the dominant male.

Yoongi started to lunge his hips towards you, bouncing you on his lap. You scream at the pleasant sensation of being fucked in the ass. You see Hoseok smirking as he lines his cock at your pussy. Slowly, you felt him open up your walls as he continue to plunge his erect and long member. Hoseok gently bites and licks your shoulder as he tries his best not to come apart from the wonders of your pussy. It was heavenly. Filthy moans, your bodies tangled with each other, and sloppy sounds from their cocks entering you filled the room. You three were drunk from the pleasure, frenzy mushing your heads making you groggy.

You wrapped your hands around Hoseok’s back, pulling him towards you. Hoseok, surprised at the sudden proximity of his face with Yoongi, avoids eyes contact as he continue to fuck your pussy hard. Yoongi chuckled at the sight of his younger roommate getting shy despite being so commanding with you and him a while ago. He placed a peck on Hoseok’s forehead. Hoseok turned to Yoongi, now cheeks burning caused by the sweet kiss. They stared at each other, Yoongi sweetly smiling at him and Hoseok smiling at the feeling of being accepted by Yoongi as well.

You pull Hoseok’s face to yours, breaking their small moment. “I want to be filled, sir.” You gaze at him with eyes hooded. Hoseok realized that you’ve gone far off now and all he wants is to satisfy you.

“Little girl deserves her reward.” He looked at Yoongi and soon after, both of them pounded into you furiously. Overwhelming sensation from being full from both holes, Hoseok painfully fucking your pussy up up to the entrance of your womb, and Yoongi fully stretching your ass out. You scream as you let yourself in your bliss. You exploded from the ecstasy brought on by the two men you truly care and love. Yoongi and Hoseok moaned and squeezed their hands on you as they felt you squeeze down on them, milking them to reach their own orgasm.

You twist, still glued to them, as you felt their warm liquid fill you up from the front and behind. The three of you, panting, as all of you let your orgasm finish. Still twined with each other, you hugged Hoseok tightly before he parts from you.

“Are you okay? You came three times, you must be exhausted. I’ll prepare a bath for the both of you.” Hoseok quickly ran back to the bathroom, disappearing from the living room.

Yoongi lifts you up to stand, pulling his cock out your ass. He lets out another groan as he sees you leaking with both of their cum. You truly look filthy right now, but his heart won’t stop pounding in his chest as he take in your beautiful face. He swipes the leaking cum off your thigh and he pulls you back on the couch. He places his fingers coated with cum in your mouth. You willingly suck it clean, tasting the mixture of Yoongi and Hoseok on you. He examines you as you breathe deeply, trying to relax post-coitus.

“Wow. Baby. If I had known how fun it is to see you take charge, I would have let you do it occasionally. Also, that was awesome.” You hug Yoongi as you place your legs across his thighs.

“Are you okay? It was not too much, was it?” Yoongi wipes the sweat off your forehead.

“I’m fine, baby.” You placed your lips on him, intimately. You want him to feel your happiness and ultimately, your intense love for him. “So what does this mean? With Hoseok?”

“I know you love him and he does too. I’ve been suspecting it for a while now. I just waited for either of you to talk to me.” Yoongi tucks in your hair behind your ear.

“But I love you more. You’re the one I want the most.” You quickly rebut him, careful as not to hurt him with any of your words.

“I know, kitten. Trust me, I do love you both too and it makes me happy seeing the two of you together too.”

“But he’s your friend...”

“I love him too, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Hoseok suddenly appeared in the room. “I won’t force myself between the two of you. I’ll go wherever you want me to stay in this relationship. I’m happy with just the two of you knowing how I feel.” He stands straight at the edge of the living room, hesitant to walk further and respecting the current situation.

You turn to Yoongi and silently stared at each other. You quickly understood what this meant. Your heart felt huge and swollen at the amount of love you’re now receiving. You’re loved by Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Come here, Hobi.” You gesture him to come closer and he did, smiling enthusiastically as he knew that the both of you are now accepting him and willing to share each other.

“I love you both!” Hoseok crashed down on both of you, granting a loud giggle from you while Yoongi smiled silently.

No reward can ever top this one. Surely, the night is still young.

#bts yoongi x reader #bts jhope x reader #bts SOPE smut #bts sope #yoongi x hoseok x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut fanfic #bts hoseok x reader

119 notes · View notes

ratmonky · 3 years

Text

Out of Body Experience

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: semi-public

AO3 Link

[You matched with Maru!]

[Send Maru a message!]

Maru: Hey.

(username): hiii!!

Maru: You look cute in your pictures on your profile.

(username): omg you think so?? i’m really happy!! i thought you had a rlly cool bio,,, i guess i did the right choice to like your bio

Maru: Thanks. I was surprised to get a notification that we matched. You’re way out of my league.

(username): don’t say that maruuu~ i bet you look handsome irl

Maru: I don’t.

(username): hmm, wanna prove it?? >.<

Maru: I don’t know.

(username): don’t be shy!! ur bio said you lived in kyoto, wanna meet up this saturday?

Maru: You’ll be disappointed.

(username): i promise i won’t!!! i like meeting new ppl!!! besides if we didn’t click we can still be friends?? i feel like you and i will be close no matter what!!

Maru: Are you sure? We just met.

(username): yep!!! come ooooonnnnn it’ll be fun to hang out!!

Maru: Fine.

(username): yay!!! let’s meet in front of the train station!! ahh i’m so excitedddd i can’t waittt TwT

Maru: Me too.

(username): <3

[Maru: <3………….. (send)]

Kokichi paused and deleted the message.

Maru: See you.

~~~

Kokichi’s first impression of you was that you were naive and careless. You wanted to meet up with him without any hesitation, what if he was someone who could harm you?

He stared at his screen and at your pictures.

You were gorgeous, he had never seen someone as pretty as you. On top of all that you wanted to meet him.

It made him feel special, wanted even.

~~~

When a notification sound filled his ears, Kokichi immediately checked if it was from you.

(username): maruuuuu!!!! i missed u ))):

He stared at the message and read it three times but didn’t quite understand why you would miss him.

Maru: What?

(username): i thought you’d text me but u didn’t,,, i couldn’t sleep cuz i was thinking about u

Maru: I didn’t think you wanted me to text you.

(username): )):

Maru: ?

(username): )))):

Maru: (:

(username): (((((:

Maru: You’re childish aren’t you?

(username): what about it q;

Maru: Nothing. How old are you anyway?

(username): old enough to drinkkkk!!!

Maru: Me too. Which Jujutsu college are you going to?

(username): ohh, hehe… i dropped out cuz it wasn’t my thing

Maru: That’s irresponsible. Did you drop because you couldn’t keep up with your curse classes or was it for some other reason?

(username): maruuuu stop talking about jujutsu with meee!!!

Maru: Then what should we talk about?

(username): about our date >.<

Maru: Date?

(username): did u forget already )):

Maru: Forget what?

(username): our date on saturday )):

Maru: That’s a date?

(username): TwT ur making me sad maru

Maru: I don’t understand it, we just said we’d meet up.

(username): this is a dating website for ppl like us ///:

Maru: You want to date me?

(username): idk anymore,,, seems like ur a heartbreaker and i feel like u don’t feel a connection between us as i do

Maru: Wait! Don’t jump to conclusions all by yourself! You don’t even know what I look like, how can you be so sure that you want to date me?

(username): i mean,,, we matched for a reason,,, i liked ur bio and wanted to get to know u better is that bad??

Maru: No. No, it isn’t. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I'm new to this sort of stuff.

(username): apology accepted!!!! ahhhh ur so cute,,, i can’t wait to meet u

Maru: Same here.

~~~

His classmates knew something was up. Robotic demeanor was gone and instead, it was actually a part of himself as Kokichi that was showing through.

“Mechamaru looks happy nowadays,” Kamo noted.

“It’s relieving that he shows us a softer side of himself,” Miwa added. “Makes me feel happy for him.”

“I wonder what caused him to become this way.” Kamo was talking to himself but Todo took it upon himself to answer.

“He has finally found himself a Takada-chan.” Todo grinned. “Reminds me, I never asked him what his type of woman is.”

There was a moment of silence before Todo walked out into the campus garden to make his way towards Mechamaru.

Mechamaru didn’t notice his presence as he was watering the flowers.

“Yo.”

“Todo. Did you need something?”

“What’s your type of woman?”

Caught off guard, Mechamaru dropped the watering can. “I… I think someone who’s kind and cheerful.” Someone who’s submissive.

“Like I guessed.” Todo held his chin between the knuckle of his forefinger and thumb as he hummed thoughtfully. “You’re as lifeless as your puppet.”

~~~

What did that suppose to mean?

Kokichi was just telling the truth.

Right?

~~~

Days passed until Friday came.

Kokichi talked to you almost every day and whenever he could. He seemed to enjoy your company more than he thought he would when the two of you first matched.

He woke up to your messages and went to sleep only after he texted you goodnight.

Today, he felt like his heart was going to jump out of his ribcage, he could hear his own pulse when it got too quiet and it was dead silent in his hideout… as always.

All he could think about was your date tomorrow. He had made sure to dress up Mechamaru nicely for the occasion and checked the weather report thrice so the date wouldn’t be ruined because of anything out of his control.

There was still something that made him extremely anxious. What if you didn’t like him? What if everything went terribly and you blocked his number?

He needed something to distract him from these negative thoughts.

Maru: Hey.

(username): maruuuu!!!! what r u doin??

Maru: Going to sleep soon, I think.

(username): without me (;

Maru: Never.

(username): i’m blushing

Maru: How are you?

(username): fine, i'm doing skincare tonight to get ready for our date!!

Maru: About that...

(username): ....

(username): are you going to cancel our date?

Maru: No! I’m just anxious about it.

(username): good cuz i’d block u

Maru: I don’t think you would.

(username): you don’t know me

Maru: Because you never told me about yourself.

(username): ^-^; haha yeah,,, so,,, what would you like to know?

Maru: Everything.

Without even noticing the passing time, Kokichi chatted with you until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

He learned everything about you. From the earliest memory, you could recall about your first interaction with a cursed spirit to your latest obsession with an online game about cute animals.

His eyelids were getting heavier, he texted you goodnight and how he was excited to meet you tomorrow.

When he closed his eyes, this time he managed to fall asleep.

~~~

You pressed your phone to your chest and kicked at your sheets. The excitement was eating you up, the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t calm down either. All because of someone you met online a couple of days ago.

It wasn’t something new to you to meet up with people you met online but this felt a lot different.

Previous times, you had used different dating apps or social media websites to make friends but this was the first time you had used a dating website specifically for people who knew the existence of curses.

Jujutsu sorcerers often found it hard to find someone they could click with because of their field of work but this website had risen up to popularity from day one. Your old classmates from your jujutsu college wouldn’t shut up about it so you gave it a go after their insisting.

Maru was one of the first people you matched with on the website. In his profile, he had written about how he wanted to find someone he could be himself with and date them.

That’s why tomorrow, you had to be on your best behavior so he could be himself around you.

~~~

You were twenty minutes early.

It wasn’t your intention to arrive this early but whether it be the excitement to meet up with Maru or not wanting to make him wait if your train was late-

Wait, those were all connected.

Letting out a sigh, you checked your phone. Yep, still twenty minutes. Once you put it back in your purse, your eyes scouted around the station. There weren’t any empty spaces for you to sit so you were standing by a meeting point next to the maps, hoping Maru would see you.

Although you didn’t know what he looked like, you had put effort into how you looked today so you could impress him. Deep inside, you hoped he would take notice of your appearance and compliment you but some men were just too dense.

From the way he had started texting you, he gave you the impression that he was one of those stoic and dense men but as you started to get to know him better, he turned out to be quite a friendly person. Very talkative and caring.

You pressed a hand on your cheek, you were burning up. Geez, were you really blushing this much because of him?

When you told your friends about this date, they had told you not to have too many expectations about Maru. They believed you were being catfished but it wasn’t possible, you didn’t want to meet him because of his appearance after all.

“Um, excuse me-”

Startled, you lifted your head to stare at a… robot?

You stepped away from its way, thinking that you were standing in front of its charging station or something. How long had it been since you had gone out? Had robots already taken over? Or was this one of those public pranks?

The robot was staring at you even after you moved away.

“(username)?”

You lifted your gaze and looked at the robot with wide eyes. “M-M-Maru?”

It nodded, “Mechamaru.”

No, it wasn’t a robot. You could sense cursed energy oozing from it. More like a cursed doll. Nevertheless, you were speechless.

There was a long pause before you spoke. “Ah, I...” You looked around as if you were searching for an exit and anxiously clutching on your purse.

Great, you were going to make up an excuse and go away. Just like he thought you would.

“I thought I was going to meet you, not a puppet.”

“I’m here,” he said, static sizzling noise coming from him was like nails on a chalkboard. “I just can’t be physically here because of my condition.”

“You could’ve told me about it first… ahh, sorry.” You sounded more annoyed than you would have liked but quickly covered it up by bowing your head to greet him. “Nevermind, I’m (name).”

“Are we going to use real names?”

“Well, I’m not gonna call you Megaman.” There was a smile.

“Mechamaru,” he corrected. After a short silence, he added, “Kokichi.”

“Nice to meet you Kokichi, I hope we can get along well.” You bowed yet again.

“Why are you being so formal?”

“It’s cuz…” You pointed at him.

“What?”

“Well…” You used both hands to gesture his whole body.

“If you say it’s because I’m a robot or anything similar to that, I’ll go home.” He sounded serious, or maybe it was because of the static.

You pouted and leaned forward on your tiptoes, “If I can’t even joke around then I’ll go home.”

“I thought you were looking forward to our date.” When you blushed at his words he spoke again. “You look cuter than your pictures.”

“Ahh, you really think so?” You started walking and he followed after you.

“I do.” He was keeping a large space between the two of you, whenever you tried to walk closer to him, he would move away but now when you were caught in the station with the crowd who were going home after work hours, you had to stay close to him.

You were being pushed against Kokichi thanks to the crowd trying to walk out of the station and he didn’t complain about it. Kokichi didn’t look at you, he thought about the things he read on the internet instead.

‘If you want your date to consider you as manly, you have to invest yourself to talk to her.’

“Your dress looks cute.” Kokichi came up with ‘the compliment her outfit’ route, he had seen men flirt before, he could do it too.

He stared down for a moment to see your reaction.

Bingo!

You smiled brighter than the sun, you played with your hair to give him a playful answer. “Thank you, I wore this just for our date.” Your eyes shined with small sparkles in them. “I really like your collar.” You pointed at his face, not too close, hesitant to invade his personal space. I’m here with his puppet not him, you reminded yourself.

“Thanks.”

When the two of you finally exited the station, you walked alongside him.

“Where to?” He nonchalantly asked while you were looking around the streets.

“What about karaoke?” You gave him an inviting smile, “It’d be fun.”

“Whatever you say.” He wasn’t sure which way you were taking. There was the main street and Kyoto's red-light district, of course, he knew you wouldn’t be going there. “Which street are we going for?”

You pointed to your right, “The main street, there is a karaoke place I know.” Your smile altered when you noticed how this time when you walked together to cross the street, it was close, your shoulder touched his fake biceps.

“I’m not good at singing for obvious reasons.” Back in his bathtub, Kokichi said it in a joking manner but thanks to the cursed puppet, it sounded a lot as if he was annoyed about the idea of going into karaoke. He bit his tongue and cringed, waiting for your reaction.

“You can still try, can’t you?” You gave him the best puppy eyes you could. “For me?”

Kokichi blushed but you weren’t able to see it through Mechamaru. “Y-yeah.”

“Oh, I didn’t know robots could stutter.”

“I didn’t stutter and I’m not a robot. This is a cursed puppet and sometimes the commands I give are interrupted, that’s why I-”

“You’re so easy to tease just as I guessed!”

Kokichi covered his mouth with his hand, watching you giggle at him through his screen.

“Here it is.” Pointing at a sign, you grabbed his arm and dragged him with you.

While you were showing him the prices, he was busy staring down at your shirt. He could… he could see your cleavage.

“The menu says they serve alcohol at this hour! Ahh, the prices are cheaper than the last time too! We can share the tab-” You stopped yourself from talking. Silence brought him out of his trance. “Oops, sorry. You can’t eat or drink through Megaman, right?”

“Mechamaru,” he corrected. “No, I can’t… But it’s on me anyway.”

“You’ll pay?” Your eyes sparkled brighter than the stars. Your pouting lips and hand on his chest didn’t help.

Kokichi looked away, blushing. “Y-yeah.”

“Y-you’re the best!” Mocking his stuttering, you offered him a cute smile. Then you went on to drag him inside while telling him about how this place was the best karaoke place in Kyoto because they served desserts and your favorite cocktail. All the while renting a room for the two of you.

“Would you like to share with others?” The employee asked.

“No.” Your answer was instantaneous.

Behind the register, the employee stared at Kokichi and down at you. It was easy to tell he thought the two of you were a mismatch. “Your room is to the left, you can order through the smart tablet. Have fun.”

“Thanks,” you said before walking past the register. When Kokichi caught up with you, you turned around. “Did you see the way he stared? So lame!”

“Well, anyone would have stared if they saw a pretty girl next to a robot.”

“So, you’re accepting you’re a robot?” You grinned, opening the door to the private room.

“That’s not what I meant!” He didn’t know what he was expecting. From the way you texted, he should have known you were this childish and unable to have a serious conversation.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.” He closed the door behind him as you were ordering as many drinks as you could. Once he noticed you were about to order the entire menu, he barely managed to stop you by taking the smart tablet away from your hands. “Hey, I’m not rich!”

“It’s cheap, trust me!” You pouted your lips again, reaching for the smart tablet he was holding above your head.

His stare found the menu and froze. It was cheaper than he had thought like you said. He had never been somewhere like this, nobody could blame him for it.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice,” he said as he handed the device back to you.

“I was showing you the menu earlier, you weren’t listening, were you?” Your smile widened, eyes squinting knowingly.

“I was listening! You’re talking way too much, I can’t keep up!”

You crossed your legs, continuing to add stuff to your order.

It got quiet.

Realizing what he had said was rude, he apologized.

“It doesn’t sound genuine.”

“It’s because I’m talking through a puppet.”

“Exactly.”

You weren’t looking at him. Putting the tablet aside, you leaned back on the soft cushions. The mood had changed. When you weren’t talking, it was too quiet.

Decidedly, he walked over to the karaoke machine and grabbed two microphones. He sat next to you, placing one of the microphones next to you as he reached for the tablet.

There were way too many songs in the system and he knew none of them.

Scrolling further, he found Takada-chan’s songs.

“You like Takada-chan?” you asked, noticing how he had stopped scrolling.

“No,” he replied. “My friend-” Was he really his friend? “My friend likes her, he won’t stop talking about her and all.”

“I like her,” you said. “I’ve been to her meet and greets many times but they’re always ruined by some buff dude who has the most tickets. He’s always at the events, kinda creepy but seems like he supports her. He once beat up some guy who insulted her.”

Kokichi didn’t say anything. He didn’t want that guy to be the icebreaker on his date.

“Creepy,” he uttered before putting the tablet on your lap. “You should sing, I don’t know any of these songs.”

“None of them?” You raised a brow.

“None.”

“You’re so boring,” you murmured, clicking on the first song you saw.

The loud music filled the room and his hideout. You tapped on the microphone, “Check, one, two. Kokichi is sooooo boring!”

Your laughter was the next thing that filled his hideout. He chuckled but it came out as a static noise through Mechamaru.

While you were singing, the same employee came with two trays full of drinks and snacks, he left them on the table before leaving immediately. None of you paid any mind as you were changing the lyrics to tease Kokichi.

“Are those really the lyrics?” he asked.

“Yep!”

Another giggle.

Too cute.

Very cute.

He watched you stop singing for a brief moment to chug down your third drink. Your cheeks were flushed red from the booze and your neck was sweaty, you kept fanning your hand towards your face.

His gaze focused on a particular sweat droplet on your neck and idly watched as it drizzled down to your cleavage before disappearing under the fabric of your dress.

Kokichi tried focusing on something else but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from you. Every single thing you did was seductive. When you bit onto a small rice cake or the way your lips closed around the straw of your drink and how your cheeks hollowed when you tried sucking the last bits of your cocktail in your mouth.

The last drop had to be when you grabbed an ice cube from your drink and held it over the skin of your chest.

His hand pressed on his lower half. He was thankful he wasn’t physically there or he would have been labeled as a pervert. Under the soothing medical liquid, he had a problem you didn’t need to see.

You weren’t singing anymore but the music was playing nonetheless to suppress the silence as Kokichi was practically undressing you with his eyes.

“Heyyy, Kokichi~” you slurred, sitting closer to him. “You’re being too quiet!”

Taken aback, he spoke. “I’m not sure what to say?”

“Just talk…” you whined, putting a hand on his knee.

Oh, how he wished he could feel the warmth of your hand.

“Or better… Sing!” You held a microphone up to his face.

“I can’t sing,” he reminded.

“You said, you’d sing for meee~”

He blushed, taking the microphone from your hand. “I don’t know the lyrics.”

“It’s on the screen.”

Yes, the lyrics were on the screen.

He felt embarrassed, this was stupid. He wasn’t even actually in the room with you but he felt so nervous. His actual hands were shaking as he gulped.

When he started singing, you started laughing.

The static made it sound like he was an actual robot. Yet, Kokichi didn’t stop despite how tone-deaf his voice was coming through Mechamaru. He wanted to make sure you were having fun but the music stopped.

Both of you stared at the notification on the tablet, asking if you wanted to add another hour to your stay.

Had it already been an hour? Time was going fast when you two were having fun.

You looked at Kokichi.

He pressed to accept.

The music continued playing.

This time, Kokichi didn’t sing. The two of you started chatting about everything and anything until there was a lull in the conversation.

“Lemme see your hand,” you said, reaching your own towards him. He slowly placed his hand on your open one and you compared the size. “Wow, your hand is hugee, is your real hand this big?”

Funny, if not absurd. You were on a date with a puppet but you were getting turned on.

“It's the same size as my own hand.” His gaze dropped to his actual body. “At least one of them.”

“Can you feel that?” You intertwined your fingers with his.

“No.” He wasn’t looking and he didn’t need to look. The depressing realization that he was always going to watch people behind a screen and in this damn bathtub was starting to sink in once again.

“Can you feel this?” You were giggling.

“I told you, I can’t feel-” His breathing stopped at the sight of you pressing his hand on your breast.

“I wanna meet you, Kokichi~” Smiling enticingly, you sat closer to him. “It’s no fun when I can’t see if you’re blushing right now.” Your hand over his hand moved on your breast, the supple flesh jiggled under the front of your dress. “Are you blushing right now?”

“I am.” His answer was instant.

“You know,” you started, putting your free hand on his thigh and lifting your leg up on the cushion to face him. “I got all dressed up ‘cause I wanted you to lose your composure. You sounded so uptight and stoic. I wanted to see you lose it.” Tilting your head, you puckered your lips. “But you didn’t even come to our date.”

“I did.”

“Megaman did.”

“Mechamaru.”

“I wanted Kokichi to come.” You pulled his hand away from your breast and led it down to your stomach and even lower. “I wish you were here so you could feel how wet I am.”

“(name),” he said. “I can’t feel my fingers through Mechamaru.”

“Mm?” You placed his hand under the skirt of your dress. “But I can feel them.”

Kokichi’s actual hand started shaking in excitement as Mechamaru’s fingers brushed against your panties.

“Can’t I meet you?” Your voice was faint compared to the music but he heard it. “I wanna meet you.”

“You’ll be disappointed, I don’t look… normal.”

“You don’t look normal right now either.” Biting your lip, you moved against his hand. A soft gasp left your lips. “Yet, I’m so turned on right now.”

There were a thousand different thoughts invading his mind but Kokichi felt like he was hypnotized by your hips.

“Kokichiii, move your fingers,” you whined softly, your eyes hazy with lust.

“I need to see them,” he said. Back in his room, his own hand was pressing down on his growing erection. “Or I may move them wrong.”

“Pervert~” you teased, lifting the skirt of your dress up.

He didn’t say anything, instead focused his attention on your soaked panties. How long had you been this wet? From the moment you two rented the room or-

“Kokichi.” Your needy voice brought him out of his dirty thoughts. “You don’t have a cock under your pants, do you?” Your hand pressed against Mechamaru’s groin.

For the first time in his life, Kokichi felt his entire body jolt. Your vulgar way of asking was enough to get him rock hard. “No-”

“What a waste.” Sulking, you retrieved your hand. “But are you hard right now?”

“I… I am.”

A dangerous glint sparkled through your eyes. “If only you were here… I’d make you feel sooo good.”

Mechamaru’s fingers pressed against your clothed folds before moving along them. A soft moan left your lips and you balanced yourself on your hands.

“I look like a freak-”

“You keep saying that.” Your hips moved against his hand. “As if that matters to me.”

Mechamaru slid your panties to the side and spread your folds with two of his fingers, he carefully watched as wet strands connecting them together broke apart. Kokichi’s own hand was pumping his cock.

“What are you doing right now, Kokichi?”

“I’m putting a finger inside.” He inserted one of his fingers inside you.

“No, what are you really doing?” You bit your lip.

“I’m… I’m jerking off.”

Satisfied with his answer, you crossed a leg over his to settle on his lap with your back against his chest. Spreading your legs wider, you allowed him a better view of your wet pussy. Mechamaru’s digits slid inside as Kokichi moved his hand along the length of his cock.

Mechamaru’s other hand went to cup your breast over your shirt, making a moan escape your lips.

His fingers were reaching deeper than your own fingers ever could. The digits moved in a scissoring motion and curled against your gummy walls, pressing against the spot that made your vision blurry.

“Kokichi,” gasping, you squirmed on his lap, your back arched when his thumb grazed over your clit. “I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Kokichi’s hand tightened around the tip of his cock, he pulled the sensitive skin down to expose the pink tip and massaged it using his thumb. When his hand started moving along his cock again, the device helping him talk through Mechamaru picked up the clicking sound rather than the medical fluid splashing.

You moaned at the realization of what you were hearing.

The feeling of the metallic firm fingers stroking your clit made your hips buck against his hand. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, panting, you pressed your thighs together.

Mechamaru’s hand on your chest moved down on your thigh to hold you in place as his fingers inside your pussy started to vibrate. The sudden pleasure made you scream but the loud music concealed it.

Kokichi couldn’t breathe normally, his pulse had gone haywire as his hand was moving hastily around his cock while Mechamaru’s digits were messing you up.

“S-s-s-stop!” Your voice broke into a moan.

“Do you really want me to stop?” He barely managed to ask, his hand wouldn’t stop.

You shook your head rapidly, biting your lip.

Your walls clenched around the digits, sucking them in deeper. Kokichi’s own hand was moving faster than his heartbeat. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his shoulders tensed.

He was close.

From the way you were shaking, he could say the same thing for you.

So, when Mechamaru pushed his digits further inside, the vibration got stronger and stronger until your legs shook. The pleasure that was building in your gut suddenly got released, shaking you to your core.

Kokichi followed suit, his cock spurted thick clumps of cum and they landed on his stomach, his bandages absorbed his seed.

By the time he caught his breath, he realized you were still on his lap.

Mechamaru had gone limp as he had gotten distracted because of his orgasm. He revived the cursed doll while you were trying to fix your dress.

You wanted to say something but you couldn’t find something to say.

To your rescue, the music stopped.

The tablet had the same notification from before. Informing you that the second hour had ended and if you wanted to rent the room for one more hour.

Kokichi leaned forward and pressed on the tablet to end the session.

“We’re leaving already?” you pouted your lips.

“You said you wanted to meet me.”

Kokichi watched as the brightest smile he had ever seen formed on your face.

After he paid the tab the two of you exited the building as he held you up with one hand because your legs weren’t functioning properly.

“The employee behind the register noticed your wobbly legs,” Kokichi said.

“You think so?” you whispered, cheeks and ears colored in bright red.

“He was looking, so, yes.”

“You kinda went overboard by using Megaman’s vibrator hands.” Your giggle filled his ears and he smiled to himself.

“It’s Mechamaru.”

#this was gonna be a dark one but my friend told me to rewrite it lmao #anywayyyy kokichi supremacy #mechamaru x reader #kokichi muta x reader

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taelme · 4 years

Text

Enemies-to-lovers!Changbin

request: Hiiiii I read you bangchan enemies to lovers au and I swear if I could like a post more than once I'd like that one a MILLION TIMES I'm wondering if maybe you could write an enemies to lovers au for changbin pretty please? 🥺🥰 genre: enemies-to-lovers!au (again, not Super extreme, low-key clash bc they’re both stubborn), film club president!Changbin, childhood penpal!au (fluff, very mild angst, they bicker a lot, kind of cheesy bc changbin’s a sap and we know that) pairing/s: Changbin / Reader (ft some skz members) word count: 17k+ tw: mild coarse language (they say shit a lot LOL) a/n: THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS...IM PRETTY SURE you waited months for this so thank you for being so so so patient!! I decided to try something a little different from my usual style but idk if it’s That Obvious, but its more structure wise I guess, but nonetheless, I'll be getting a little busier soon so I’m not sure If I'll be able to put out Full one shots for the next few months but I'll try my best w those little shorter ones maybe! (I'll have to see how Tired I am) also p.s I love this gif thank u to whoever made it but changbin is blonde in this fic bc of Personal Reasons

To: my penpal Y/N

How are you?

I had a good day today. Sorry if the paper is crunchy I am writing this on my bed because my mom thinks I am already asleep. Today I went out with my mom and we went to the park and ate some sandwiches at the park. We had a picnic but with no juice because my sister finished everything. And then we went to the toy shop after lunch. I saw a keychain of a camera and bought it for you because you like acting and cameras can take a video of you acting.

This is a picture of me next to the wishing well at the park, you cannot see it but i’m making a peace sign. I threw a coin in the well and made a wish that your audition will be good. I know you will do very well because you practiced a lot for it. That’s all. I’m a bit tired now. Goodnight, or good morning if you are reading this in the morning. Or afternoon.

I hope i’ll be hearing from you soon, Binnie.

“So, do you wanna keep them? If not I can chuck them together with the rest of your old things,” your mom began, already reaching over to take the letter from you.

Your eyes widened just as quickly, shaking your head quickly as you gripped the envelope and its contents behind your back away from her reach.

“No, no. Don’t throw them away,” you said sternly, softening your gaze when you noticed the way her eyebrows had raised in amusement, embarrassment washing over your features.

“I’ll keep them. Gimme the box.”

Your mom set the beaten looking converse shoebox down onto the table, shaking her head at you as a small chuckle escaped her. Mental note to transfer the letters to a smaller (and more durable) box.

“Alright, alright,” she waved her hands at you in dismissal, “hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”

She shut the door behind her with a light thud, leaving you to stare at the grainy polaroid your childhood penpal had sent you when you both were only eight and still exchanging letters every week.

Inhaling deeply, you shoved the polaroid picture back into the envelope, slipping it into the box of envelopes before getting up. You figured that was a box you wouldn’t have the time to delve into when you were already keeping Jisung waiting.

Driving as fast as you could (or as fast as you dared to) within the speed limit, you’d reached your campus soon enough. It wasn’t that long of a drive and it would be even shorter (walking distance to be specific), when you move into your apartment nearer to campus in a few days. But that didn’t change the fact that you were running late now, spotting Jisung standing by the fountain with a sour look on his face that had only deepened once he’d spotted you.

Before an utterance of apology could leave you, Jisung had pursed his lips, stretching out his hand that held your cup of drink, a small hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“I’m starting to wonder which one of us has worse time management,” he sighed deeply, shaking his head with feigned disappointment as he glanced at his nonexistent watch on his wrist.

Jisung was one to talk, for sure. His crumpled looking shirt over baggy cargo pants and a hat to cover his head of messy hair told you his journey to school wasn’t exactly ‘leisurely’ either.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink and sighing at the taste, “it’s definitely you. I was only late today ‘cause my mom was showing me my old stuff she found in the storeroom.”

Jisung waved you off, “fine, whatever,” he fished his phone out of his pocket as you started walking towards the auditorium for a class you were both dreading.

“Oh, shit, Hyunjin says the professor’s already in class, we should hurry up.”

Quickening your pace, you were glad to have reached before your professor had started, Jisung directing you towards where Hyunjin was seated at the side of the auditorium, giving him a small nod as you sat down.

Not that Hyunjin noticed anyway, the said boy busy with messaging someone on his phone with a frown on his face.

“What are you doing?”

Jisung peered over Hyunjin’s shoulder, frankly not wanting to focus on the lesson as the professor played a video on boring business things he figured he could just ask you for later.

Hyunjin sighed, setting his phone down onto the table and pushing his laptop open further, going to his email with quick clicks on his trackpad, “gotta send the scene for the auditions later to Changbin.”

“Oh, for that film thing?” Jisung asked, earning a nod from Hyunjin, whose eyebrows furrowed as they remembered your presence.

“Y/N should audition,” Hyunjin nodded his head towards you, his mention of your name distracting you momentarily, but you’d brushed it off quickly as you tried to take down whatever your professor was rambling on about.

At your lack of response, Jisung nudged your shoulder with more force, “hey, did you hear what Hyunjin said?”

You tore your gaze reluctantly from your professor as your fingers finished typing whatever you had left in your memory, the confused look on your face prompting Hyunjin to take over.

“We’re having auditions later for the movie the film club’s gonna be making,” he started, nodding slowly as his eyebrows raised, “I was saying you should join, you’d be good for the role.”

You narrowed your eyes at Hyunjin, “what’s it about?”

Jisung huffed, “some cheesy penpal shit, the last I heard.”

Your quirked an eyebrow at that, Hyunjin rolling his eyes.

“Something like that, but it’s not super romantic. They’re childhood penpals who meet again in the future but they don’t end up together, I don’t know how to explain it to you as well as Changbin can, but will you come anyway?”

You scrunch your nose as you consider his offer.

Was there anything you needed to prepare? You didn’t even know exactly what you were signing up for. Or much less anyone in the film club. Well, other than Hyunjin, of course.

“Is there any script I'm supposed to prepare with?” you asked, making Hyunjin’s eyebrows raise, his lips parting in realisation.

“I’m pretty sure it depends on what role you want…” he trailed off, making you scoff.

Not being able to help the laugh from escaping you, you narrowed your eyes at him, “you sound like you’re not even in the club.”

Hyunjin flashed you a sweet smile, “you know what? I’ll just send you what I sent Changbin. You can just prepare with that! Penny’s role!”

Jisung snorted, his hand coming up in a poor attempt to stifle his giggles.

“Penny? Is it because...she’s a pen pal?”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, finding it awfully amusing as well.

Hyunjin frowned, scrunching his nose up in distaste, “we couldn’t think of anything better, okay?”

You huffed, lower lip jutting out in a small pensive pout. You didn’t have much going on in terms of school productions as of now, anyway, you guessed there would be no harm in showing some support for Hyunjin.

“What time are the auditions?”

“They start from lunchtime until like five,” Hyunjin tried his best to recall, looking at you with his best pleading gaze.

Sighing again, you nodded, “this is my only class for today.”

Hyunjin was practically beaming now.

“Perfect.”

===

“I don’t like it.”

Hyunjin sputtered over his sip of coffee, an incredulous expression on his face, attracting looks from the other film club members in the dance studio. Excusing himself, he’d made his way outside, oblivious to the squeals and stares the girls waiting to audition were directing towards him, settling himself in the middle of the field outside the dance studio.

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t like it’?” he asked you again, his eyebrows furrowed as curiosity took over him.

You sighed, rolling your shoulders back as you nodded at one of your teachers you were walking past, your grip relaxing on your phone as your arm had started to get tired.

“I mean, I read through the script, and something about Penny’s character just doesn’t sit right with me,” you told him, “it just… doesn’t make sense for her to come to that conclusion when she’d been having a perfectly good time with the guy before that, you know?”

Pausing, you’d waited for him to respond, his silence prompting you to continue with your elaboration.

“Okay, I’ll put it this way,” you started, adjusting your grip on your laptop in your arm, “If I were a reader, or like, a viewer in this case, I would wanna be able to pick up on these small moments or signs that Penny is actually thinking about her relationship, do you know what I mean? Because now the way it looks is that she’s just a plot device meant to hurt him, and that there’s no exploration of the development of their relationship at all.”

Hyunjin let out a deep sigh, “Okay, I know, I know, but the thing is… this was Changbin’s idea, and I don’t know if you’ve heard—I mean, you probably have, but… nobody really questions him.”

You hummed, following Hyunjin into the school building and tugging your coat tighter around yourself, the cold air in the building shocking you as you entered.

“Yeah, I get that, but you’re forgetting that I don’t have the same relationship with this Changbin guy that you guys do. I don’t mind telling him that I have a problem with it. I don’t wanna be acting out some two-dimensional love interest character if I can help it.”

Hyunjin grimaced, not seeming to be too keen on your insistence, “I really think it might be a little late for him to change the script.”

“It’s never too late.”

“Well to Changbin it could be!” Hyunjin insisted, making you roll your eyes, a small chuckle leaving you.

You huffed, “I still think the audience deserves a better film with better crafted characters.”

Hyunjin let out a sound in between a sigh and a groan, “Okay fine, you just have to make sure you get the role, and then you’re free to argue with Changbin all you want. Deal?”

“Deal,” You turned the corner and spotted Hyunjin standing in the middle of the field, already making his way back to the dance studio.

“Okay,” he spoke before you could end the call, “I gotta go, see you later.”

You didn’t expect there to be so many people at the auditions, mostly girls and just a handful of guys. Though you seemed to piece the uneven ratio together when you saw the not-so-furtive stares the girls would cast in Hyunjin’s direction whenever he’d peek his head out from the crack in the door to call the next person in.

You recognized one of the guys who’d come in later than you, one of Jisung’s upperclassmen friends whose name was Minho.

“Didn’t think i’d see you here,” he gave you a small smile as he took a seat next to you.

Shrugging in response, you let out an awkward huff of laughter, not used to talking to him about anything other than his cats and Jisung’s whereabouts.

“Yeah… well, Hyunjin asked me to come, so I figured I might as well,” you fiddled with the slip of paper with the scene printed on it, “not like I had anything better to do, anyway.”

Minho nodded slowly, leaning closer to you and dropping his voice to a murmur, “I’ve never seen any of these girls before.”

You huffed, “I’m pretty sure most of them are here for Hyunjin.”

“Oh yeah, makes sense,” Minho hummed, a small lilt of amusement to his tone, “where is he, anyway? He told me he would be here—”

Minho’s question was answered when the girls beside the both of you had erupted into harsh whispers and murmurs, tapping each other excitedly as Hyunjin could be seen through the window panel in the door, looking on seriously as one of the girls inside the room was auditioning.

You huffed, gesturing to the window.

“Found him.”

Inside the room, Changbin was distracted.

He knew he had a certain image in his head about what he wanted ‘Penny’ to be. But whatever the girls that had auditioned so far had been showing, that dramatic ‘i never loved you!’ emotion, that wasn’t exactly it. And it didn’t help either that they struggled letting go of the dramatics when Chan would prompt them to try a different angle.

Hyunjin cast a (mildly concerned) look at Changbin, trying to gauge his expression, figuring the pointed look Changbin had sent his way was enough to say he didn’t think this girl would be shortlisted.

“Who’s next?” Chan leaned over in his seat to peek at the clipboard of names of signups, Changbin leaning back in his seat and pushing the clipboard towards him, not finding it in him to be able to be more hopeful about the next person.

“Oh, Y/N,” Chan hummed, nodding with an impressed expression on his face, the name catching Changbin’s attention, “that’s cool, didn’t think they’d audition.”

“Y/N?” Changbin echoed, something about the name awfully familiar to him, yet not being able to make the connection in his memories yet.

So for now, he’d simply gestured to Hyunjin to signal that he could send the next girl in, Chan sweetly thanking the girl that had just auditioned as she left the room.

Making your way into the room, you scanned the ‘panel’ of judges.

You recognized Chan, the said pale-faced boy looking even more tired when he’d yawned as you made your way to the centre of the room. He came to your school productions often since he and Felix were friends, and Felix was always involved in some way or another. The other boy, though, you didn’t think you’d seen before.

The two of them seemed to exude completely different auras, with Chan smiling warmly at you and gesturing for you to come closer while the other boy sat with his arms folded across his chest, frowning at you as though you were a code to decipher.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here,” Chan broke the silence first, giggling.

You shook your head, “honestly didn’t think i’d sign-up either.”

You pressed your lips together in a tight-lipped smile, rocking back on your heels as you glanced at the boy next to him again, “I actually only heard about it from Hyunjin this morning,” you admitted, Hyunjin flashing Chan a grin from behind you as if to say ‘you’re welcome’.

Changbin cleared his throat, making Chan perk up.

“Right, sorry. So, we’ve obviously met but this is our club’s president Changbin,” he gestured to the boy sitting next to him.

Changbin nodded curtly, bringing his hand up to run it through his bleached hair and shoving his cap back on his head with habitual movements.

Now you were starting to understand why Hyunjin was so intimidated by Changbin, always having heard stories about him but only now being able to put a face to the name.

Nodding slowly, you gave him a smile, “nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.”

Changbin had to stop himself from faltering, his breath hitching when he realised why your name was so familiar.

After all, it had been the first candidate before they’d decided to go with ‘penny’. He wondered how cruel fate was to have brought you, someone with the same name as the person he’d practically based this story on, to be auditioning for the very role.

You tried not to be offended by the way Changbin had simply nodded at you, straightening up in his seat, “and you’ll be auditioning for the role of…?”

Would it hurt him to smile?

You inhaled deeply, trying to hide your amusement as you answered him, “Penny.”

Changbin nodded, Chan humming as he looked up from his copy of the script to give you another reassuring smile.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready. I’ll be taking the lines of the male lead,” Chan told you.

You understood that the scene was some sort of scene where the two romantic leads have some sort of confrontation, and you did your best to get into what you imagined Penny would be feeling, Chan reading the line asking if ‘penny’ had even loved him at all. Dramatic was the word to describe it, really.

You softened your gaze, unintentionally letting it rest on Changbin but deciding to let it stay there, executing your lines all the while trying to ignore the way Changbin’s stare was unnerving you, making you want to prove to him that you were a good actor even though he hadn’t questioned your acting skills.

Hyunjin had been watching the exchange closely, Changbin’s grip on his pencil loosening as he’d let the pencil fall softly against the table.

Changbin wondered if it was some sort of coincidence, because whatever ‘it’ was that he’d been looking for in Penny’s character, you’d managed to convey almost perfectly.

And it was clear that Chan had felt the same way as well, since once your audition was over, the smile on Chan’s face was nothing but beaming.

Once you’d left the room, Hyunjin telling you that they would contact you by the next morning, Chan had turned to Changbin, the same stupid smile on his face.

“That was great!” he nudged Changbin, the younger boy still recovering from the shock of the coincidence of it all, managing to muster a small huff in response.

“Yeah,” Changbin reached over to grab his water bottle, prolonging his silence as he took a long sip, “I don’t think we’d even need to see the rest.”

Chris scrunched his nose up, grinning, “but you know we still will, of course. Just in case.”

Changbin sighed, glancing at the clock, agreeing with Chan even though he knew he’d already had his mind made up.

“Yeah, just in case,” Changbin mumbled, looking out the window and seeing you talk to Minho, tearing his gaze away and rolling his shoulders back.

“Okay, send the next one in.”

===

To: Binnie

How are you?

I’m okay. I like the picture you sent me of you using your scooter. My mom says you look nice. I think so too.

Today I went to the museum and I ate an ice cream for lunch. I don’t have a picture of it but it was a Strawberry ice cream.

I just finished reading your letter. Sorry to say it using a bad word, but i think what your sister did was stupid. I think you should still tell her to ask for permission to use your scooter. But if she still does not listen, maybe you should tell her again. Because my mom always tells me that if I want something, I have to ask for it. So you should do that. Maybe she does not know you don’t like it when she plays with your scooter. Or, you could buy a new scooter. Here is some money so you can buy a scooter. I drew you $50 because that is a lot of money. I hope you have a good day when you read this.

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N.

You weren’t the world’s kindest human alive, you had your petty moments. I mean, there were so many songs and literature and movies that highlighted that idea that no human was perfect, right? But you tried your best, surely.

So, you’d gladly complied when Hyunjin asked you to grab extra cups of coffee for Chan and Changbin (as reluctant as you were. You were strapped for cash as it was).

You figured that was the least you could do before the trouble you were about to cause the both of them. But hopefully, if office etiquette was anything to go by, the simple gesture would show that you were kind, and someone who appreciated the offer given to you, as much as you hated the superficiality of your character.

However, when you showed up at the room, you were reminded that Changbin wasn’t just anyone. And while Chan made his appreciation known, Changbin… was the same as ever. Intimidating, and very hard to read. The sight of it almost made you want to take back his coffee.

He wasn’t wearing a hat today. Instead, he’d let his blonde hair (which looked darker since the last time you saw him, or maybe it was just his dyed-black undercut) fall messily over his forehead in a slight side part.

His black shirt did nothing to hide his physique, every movement of his coming across as a subtle flex, making you have to remind yourself time and time again that you weren’t exactly here to fawn over him.

He would lean back in his seat, scrolling through whatever he was looking at in his phone with one hand, his other hand draped over his stomach and propped underneath his elbow to support it. The way he would look made it seem as if he was almost oblivious to the world around him, only paying attention to what was on his phone until he would laugh at something Chan said, Chan being the only person you’ve seen that managed to elicit seemingly uncharacteristic giggles from him.

Though it wasn’t as if you were given much time to get used to it. The moment Chan had murmured something in his ear, his expression had switched back to ‘strictly business’.

Chan straightened up, looking around the room with his eyebrows slightly raised in question, one hand adjusting the braided leather bracelet around his wrist

“So, shall we get started then?” Chan asked, gesturing to Changbin before typing away at his laptop.

Changbin took his cue, getting up from his seat and making his way around the table to the front of the room, pulling the overhanging screen up to reveal the whiteboard.

“So, first of all, we’ve finalised the actors playing the characters,” he gestured towards you and Minho, “Minho as Soobin and Y/N as Penny. So, we can start shooting about next week. I would say we’re working with a pretty loose deadline because we don’t have to submit it until a few months from now.”

Changbin rolled his shoulders back, his body language seeming fairly relaxed although his expression remained serious nonetheless, “but that doesn’t mean we should slack, obviously.”

His statement elicited a small groan from Hyunjin, who muttered a ‘figures’ under his breath, making you stifle your giggles for Changbin’s sake.

“But we will start with maybe going over the script once through, go over the technical stuff after we get any issues with the flow out of the way.”

He looked as though he were going through a mental list of things to cover, his gaze flickering momentarily to Hyunjin, as if his face would give him answers to the invisible question in his head.

“The people in charge of the props, have you started preparing the letters?” Chan stepped in, earning a shake of the head from the two girls sitting next to Hyunjin, making Changbin wave a hand dismissively in their direction.

“They could start on that after we confirm the script,” Changbin leaned over the table to grab his cup of coffee, proceeding to take a long sip from it.

“Alright, let’s start then.”

Changbin took the empty seat he was standing next to, pulling his laptop closer to him to pull up the script.

Throughout the reading, you tried to keep your comments to yourself, you really did. It just fascinated you how fearful the team was of Changbin (well, aside from Chan), the way everyone seemed to bite their tongues or withhold their comments caused a permanent frown to be etched on your face.

It didn’t make it any better that Minho seemed to have no problems with the script, not even when you’d occasionally leant over to whisper to him and ask if he found that part a little weird or a little abrupt. But you held your tongue for now, (and also because of the side glance Hyunjin would cast your way whenever you would let out a small sigh), you wanted to give Changbin the benefit of the doubt, figuring maybe if he read through his script again he’d realise how one-sided it was.

But thankfully, when you were reading out the lines where the two main characters had ended their date, and on a particularly high note for that matter, it seemed the opportunity to voice your concerns about the script was presented to you when Changbin had spoken up.

“Okay, since the next scene onwards will be where their relationship breaks down, any questions so far?” He asked, though his tone didn’t sound like he was really asking for feedback. But, hey, an opportunity as an opportunity, wasn’t it?

You cleared your throat a little too harshly, raising up your hand as you leaned against the table to be seen better, “uh, actually, me? I mean, I have some feedback actually.”

Changbin looked at you curiously, his gaze landing on you with slight surprise, as if he hadn’t expected it to be you of all people. There was a slight hesitancy evident in the way he paused before giving you a short nod, prompting you to go ahead.

You smiled, ignoring the way Hyunjin had sighed deeply a few seats away from you, dreading the chaos that could have come with people like you and Changbin bumping heads.

“Well, it’s not really specific to this scene. It’s kind of about the whole flow of the plot in general…” you fiddled with the corner of the page you were on, “but I was thinking it would be better to show more of Penny’s point of view? You know, because when I was reading it it just felt a little… weird for them to suddenly break up if everything seemed to be going fine.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes at you, looking back down at his computer with a simple dismissive shake of the head, “That’s not necessary, they’re going to break up anyway.”

The room had fallen silent, everybody seeming to have taken that as a ‘end of the conversation’ kind of line, already beginning to bring their attention to the next scene.

You frowned, unable to control your expression as you made your dismay obvious, casting a desperate look to Hyunjin who honestly looked as though he would pay you not to pursue this.

“But that’s not the point,” you spoke, getting Chan’s attention as he looked at you, silently urging you to continue, “you wanted to show their relationship, right? So, shouldn’t you show… both their parts in the relationship? Since it’s not like this is told in Soobin’s point of view.”

Changbin pursed his lips, “the point is,” he brought his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a small sip before continuing, “their relationship was superficial so it doesn’t matter.”

You mirrored his expression. The way it sounded was that he was just trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter.

Your frown deepened, quick to respond to him.

“That’s the thing, if you’re so insistent on them breaking up, why don’t you just make their relationship lead up to that? The way they’re interacting up to this scene makes viewers think they’re just going to end up together,” you tried to reason, hoping Changbin would understand where you were coming from.

Minho took that opportunity to excuse himself to the bathroom, and as you gave the rest of the film club members a once-over, you hated the way they were all looking at you as if you were cussing Changbin out instead of just giving him constructive feedback, or just voicing your thoughts for that matter.

“Well, not everyone gets a happy ending, I guess.”

He was practically avoiding your message at this point, making you grow more frustrated.

“Okay, look, what’s your intention behind making this film?” you asked, watching carefully as Changbin huffed, looking fairly amused at your insistence, which only served to irk you more.

“Simple,” he shrugged, “to show people like you that not everything that seems so perfect ends up perfect in the end.”

Your lips parted, scoffing, resisting the urge to get up from your seat as you heard Minho re-enter the room.

“People like me?” you echoed spitefully, “okay, fine, whatever. But as you said, if that’s the point of your discourse, shouldn’t your message be to tell people that they can work through things like this instead of just giving up and leaving like Penny did?”

Changbin was annoyed now. To him, you seemed too idealistic to understand his reasoning behind the story. He wondered why it had to be you that was telling him this, you were the only one that was trying to find problems with his story, that he’d based on his own life for that matter.

“Well what if she did, huh? What if Penny did just up and leave with no warning?”

You rolled your eyes, hearing Chan struggle to stifle his laugh, your exchange with Changbin being just about the most excitement he had in the whole school year.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “which is why I'm saying that your job as a storyteller is to shed some light on the reason behind that. Then your story wouldn’t be about showing how things don’t turn out the way they seem, it would just be telling you, but not showing you. You could just ask literally anybody to hurt Minho—”

“Soobin,” you heard Minho correct from beside you, making you huff, scrunching your eyes shut tightly before opening them harshly.

“—Yes, Soobin’s character, and it would be the same? The story wouldn’t show me anything other than the fact that it was Soobin’s fault he ended up that way. He didn’t question anything that happened, he just let it happen to him,” you sighed again, clenching your jaw, “Penny isn’t anything other than some 2-dimensional plot device designed as an excuse for Soobin to sulk about how cruel love is.”

Changbin scrunched his nose up, his brows knitting in annoyance as he stared at you, a silence falling again in the room. Changbin was about to interject when Chan had decided that would be a good time to step in.

“C’mon guys, let’s… calm down a little. We’re talking about penpals here, not the king’s lover betraying him.”

You cast Chan a questioning look at his example, making him shrug, continuing, “we’re running a little overtime anyway, we can just continue discussing this another time.”

Just like that, the rest of the film club members seemed eager to leave, either rushing for their next class or just not wanting to be in the same environment as an irritable Changbin.

Chan directed his gaze towards you as you were getting up from your seat, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sure Changbin will keep your points in mind, don’t worry,” he reassured you just as Changbin chimed in with a ‘no, I won’t’ behind him, leaving the room promptly afterwards, leaving you free to let out the frustrated groan you had been withholding.

“Thanks, Chan. Sorry I kind of made you guys overrun your time,” you sighed, watching Hyunjin making his way to you with wide eyes.

Chan shook his head, holding his laptop securely in one arm as he let out a burst of giggles.

“No, don’t apologize! I should be thanking you, I didn’t think about your point until you mentioned it just now,” he murmured, “but again, sorry about Changbin. He’s just a little… protective of his work.”

Hyunjin let out a low whistle from next to you, “Extremely.”

You nodded, shrugging, “It’s alright, I get it.”

Chan flashed you a smile, his hand reaching out to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Thanks, again. See you around.”

Leaving the room with Hyunjin, you ignored the way he’d begun to chuckle to himself, “honestly, in this whole time i’ve been in the film club, i’ve never seen Changbin actually… argue with someone.”

You rolled your eyes, kicking at the stray pebble “well if he continues like this, you’re gonna be seeing a lot more of it.”

“You sure seemed like you were having fun, though, weren’t you?” Hyunjin was being sarcastic, knowing he was just doing this to dissuade you, his tone eliciting a scoff from you.

You shook your head.

“You know for a fact I wasn’t. But it wouldn’t sit right with me if I just kept my mouth shut like you and the rest of your film club goons,” you shot him a pointed glare.

Hyunjin pressed his lips into a firm line, holding his hands up beside his head in surrender, prompting you to continue.

“If I want something done, I’m gonna ask for it. It’s as simple as that.”

===

To: my penpal Y/N

How are you?

Was your audition good? Thank you for the money. But $50 is a lot of money so I don’t think I should spend everything, my mom says I need to save money. Thank you for telling me what I should do, but in the end I didn’t buy another scooter. I did this because we were learning about needs vs wants in school and I think the scooter is a want. My teacher says this means I don’t really need it. But needs are things like colour pencils and pens and paper so I can write letters to send you. Maybe your mom tells you you cannot buy so many stickers because the stickers are a want and not a need.

Anyway, I think I can just let my sister take my scooter. Maybe I will just get another scooter for myself when I am older and I have more money.

I hope I will be hearing from you soon, Binnie.

As you said before, you weren’t perfect, but you surely did your best. But days like this you wondered if people like Changbin even tried.

After your interaction with said stubborn being during your meeting with the film club had put you in a bad mood, you were currently seated with Jisung in a booth at a popular burger outlet outside school, thankfully having managed to get a place in the midst of the anxious afternoon crowd. And even more thankful that you could eat your lunch in peace where you were very much away from Changbin.

“What did you say to him, again?” Jisung hadn’t bothered trying to hold in his laughter as he was almost shouting over the noise of the crowd, making you huff as you bit into your burger.

“I said it’s funny that he was talking so much shit about the main couple when he’s dedicating his entire movie to them,” you drawled, your annoyance returning as you recounted the spat you had with him during the small meeting you had with the film club just before lunch.

Jisung’s shoulders shook as he laughed, fumbling with his drink as his eyes shut tightly, giggles leaving him and seeming as though they would never end, “and that’s what you said word for word?”

You nodded, reaching over to press the lid of Jisung’s drink down firmer before he could spill it all over himself.

“I know you’re friends with him but I really don’t know how you work with this guy, he’s as stubborn as stubborn goes,” you huffed, taking another bite into your burger as Jisung’s laughter had died down, though his smile had only lingered.

“You’re worse,” he snickered, earning a glare from you.

Jisung remained unaffected, “Look, he’s honestly fine once you get to know him,” he tried to reason, sounding as though he were trying to convince a child to make friends, “I mean, we’re all still kind of wary around him when he’s in a mood but honestly, if not for the way you guys met, I’m pretty sure you two would get along well. He seems like he’s your type.”

Your eyes widened, scandalised at Jisung’s implication.

“The only thing he has in common with my exes is being annoying, okay?” you rushed to push away the curiosity of what Changbin would be like as a boyfriend. Curse Jisung and his stupid implication.

“And plus,” you continued, hearing the doorbell chime for what sounded like the thousandth time to signal yet another entry into the diner that was now overflowing with people asking for take-out, “it’s not like he’s been very nice to me since I got involved with his stupid short film.”

Jisung sighed, his gaze momentarily distracted by something behind you, making you wave your hand in front of his face to keep his attention. He’d glanced back at you, an almost dazed look in his eyes before he’d given you a small smile, taking a bite out of his burger and not waiting to finish chewing before he answered you.

“I honestly think that he just needs a little more persuasion. Like, take this for example, something similar happened with him and Chan when they were composing something in the past, and trust me, if you don’t give up now, i’m pretty sure he’d agree to come to a compromise or something,” he gave you a shrug, his gaze returning to whatever was behind you (probably someone cute, you figured). You couldn’t say you blamed him; almost all your conversations revolved around you and Changbin’s squabbles these days.

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at him, “you really think he’d be willing to rewrite his script?”

Your tone was skeptical, already imagining how Changbin would simply tell you to keep dreaming if you’d brought up the proposal to him.

At Jisung’s lack of response, you’d frowned slightly, seeing him turn back to you calmly as his smile widened, giving you yet another shrug.

“Maybe you can ask him yourself.”

If there was any feeling one would get just before something bad was about to happen, that was definitely what you were feeling now.

You didn’t dare to tear your gaze away from Jisung as you watched him turn his body, his hand coming up in a wave that had only turned into a hi-five, his behaviour only adequately described as boisterous as he welcomed the people you were hoping you wouldn’t have to see for another week until the next film club meeting.

Well, Chan was fine, you were simply referring to Changbin.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! Didn’t know you and Jisung were friends,” Chan gave you a sweet smile, gesturing between you and Jisung as he spoke.

Jisung chimed in with a nonchalant “Best friends, actually,” which had only made you shoot him a glare.

“Might have to re-evaluate that,” you muttered, turning back to Chan and Changbin to give them as warm a smile as you could muster.

“Are you guys eating here too?” you asked.

You were oblivious to the way Changbin’s gaze flickered from your face to the food in your hand, and then back to Jisung, looking perfectly unaffected as he joked with Jisung about something you didn’t quite catch.

“Well, we wanted to, but, you know, with the crowd and all we probably won’t be able to get a seat,” Chan’s gaze was pitiful, to say the least, making Jisung raise his eyebrows, and that sinking feeling within you had only intensified as his next sentence left his lips.

Jisung had barely glanced at you as he held onto Changbin’s hand.

“Well, our booth’s actually meant to seat four people, so you guys could squeeze in if you want,” he offered.

Changbin quirked his eyebrow, skepticism written all over his features, though mostly directed towards you, “you guys really won’t mind?”

You glared at your burger, scrunching your nose up as you avoided Changbin’s pointed gaze.

Jisung scoffed, giving Changbin a loud smack on the arm, “of course we won’t, right Y/N?”

He turned to you, giving you a smile you could only describe to be devious (and fairly amused).

“Yeah,” your voice took a pitch higher unintentionally, “go ahead,” you murmured, scooting into the booth to make space for them.

You took another bite from your burger, watching out of the corner of your eye as Changbin took a seat next to Jisung, Chan excusing himself to retrieve both their orders.

“Funny that you showed up, actually. Y/N and I were just talking about your short film,” Jisung spoke, earning a pointed glare for you, as if daring him to continue (and you should’ve known that wasn’t going to faze him at all).

“Oh, were you?” Changbin drawled, his eyebrows raised and a slight smile playing at his lips, “I’m sure Y/N had a lot to say about that.”

As you were about to speak, Jisung had interjected with a little giggle, “she did.”

Changbin didn’t seem to take Jisung’s comment as an answer, simply keeping his gaze fixed on you, prompting you to produce an answer of your own. You ignored the knowing look Jisung gave you.

You sighed, “maybe I wouldn’t, if someone just took my suggestions.”

Changbin had let out a small huff at that, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded over his chest as Chan returned to the table with his and Changbin’s food, casting curious glances between the three of you seated at the table.

“Hope you guys didn’t fight while I was gone,” he joked, making you sigh, and you missed the pointed look he cast Changbin’s way when the boy had scoffed, “what were you guys talking about before I came?”

You shrugged.

“We were talking about the short film,” you told him, “kind of.”

Chan had perked up at that, turning to you as he handed Changbin his food, “oh yeah, I wanted to ask if you had more feedback about the scenes.”

You nodded, “I do, actually.”

Changbin’s gaze lifted from his burger to look at you as he sighed, “what is it now?”

You huffed, “It’s not that bad. I was just wondering if the content of the letters were gonna be read out during the scene? ‘Cause if it is, then maybe we could kind of make it a little more relevant to their personalities or something.”

“Will that be hard? What do kids even talk about in their letters?” Jisung laughed.

Changbin’s lips parted slightly before pressing them into a firm line.

“Well, they’ll be like 9 when they’re exchanging letters, I suppose, so I guess they’d at least know how to have a conversation… ” He sounded almost hesitant, making you wonder why he made talking about childhood penpals seem like such a complex thing.

You thought about your own penpal, Binnie. You were about that age when you were exchanging letters with him too, figuring you could give some insight on that until Jisung had intercepted.

“At that age all I did was talk about hot wheels, to be honest. Much less talk to girls,” he snorted, making you scoff, using your shoe to nudge his leg under the table.

Chan, who had been silently thinking, had straightened up abruptly.

“Wait,” Chan’s eyebrows lowered, frowning slightly as his lower lip jut out in a slight pout. He directed his attention to Changbin, pointing his index finger towards him, “didn’t you used to have a penpal?”

You had to stop yourself from making your shock too obvious, your eyes widening as your gaze became nothing but accusatory. How badly did his penpal experience go for him to be so cynical about it now?

Whatever it was, the newfound information made you curious as to exactly how much of the story he’d changed, more importantly, how much he’d retained.

“You?” you couldn’t help yourself from blurting, though Changbin remained unamused.

“Yeah, I did,” he bypassed your incredulous stare, answering Chan simply.

Jisung hummed, bringing one hand up to fiddle with his ear piercing, not having expected Changbin’s response.

“Oh, well, what was it like, then?”

Changbin shrugged, resting one of his forearms on the table to support himself, his other hand reaching down to pick up a fry, “was nice. We would exchange letters every week. Talked about a lot of things, sent each other pictures, you know, all that stuff.”

“Do you still keep in contact with them?” Chan asked, genuine curiosity in his voice, not having heard much from Changbin about this penpal in the entire duration of their friendship.

Changbin shook his head, “nope,” he popped the p, picking up his cup to swirl it around noisily, the ice rumbling as it got tossed around in the paper cup, proceeding to take a sip from it as the rest of you looked on curiously at him.

“Well, why not?” you dared to ask, a million different possible reasons running through your mind.

Maybe they did something to piss Changbin off, or maybe they got into a big fight (which also made you wonder how heated fights could get over snail mail), or maybe one of their parents disapproved of the other. The possibilities were endless as you anticipated just why 8 year old Changbin would’ve cut ties with his penpal. And maybe, you were enjoying the dramatic aspect of it a little more than you should’ve been.

But something about the way he replied felt restrained. Maybe you were reading into it too much, but he almost sounded evasive. But, of course, you chose to ignore (suppress) it for now, watching intently as Changbin had once again shrugged, an air of nonchalance to his gestures as he met your gaze.

“Just… grew out of it, I guess.”

You huffed, memories of your own penpal making his response sting.

You don’t think you ever ‘grew out’ of talking to binnie. You remembered how frustrated you were when you’d stopped hearing from him after he moved, and every letter you’d sent to his new address had only been returned back to you. Maybe he grew out of it, but you wouldn’t have left it like that if you had a choice.

You rolled your eyes at his response, something in your response seeming to have irked Changbin.

“What?” he snapped, making you hesitate just the slightest bit, deciding to bite your tongue and shake your head.

“Nothing.”

Chan let out a huff of laughter through his nose next to you, shaking his head at you goodnaturedly.

“Forgive us, you always seem like you have something more to say,” Chan spoke, apparent ‘damage control’ for Changbin’s abrasiveness.

“Wait, so, you’re really not gonna have a happy ending?” Jisung frowned.

“Well, Changbin and I were talking about it after the meeting that day, we figured since we have time we could afford to change the script a little,” he hummed, turning to you, “you know, since it could be a chance to kind of send a more hopeful message like you were talking about.”

Your eyes widened, your hand almost reaching out to touch Chan’s arm but realising you were still holding your burger, “really? You’re open to changing it?”

Changbin’s gaze flickered momentarily to you, observing your posture, noticing how open and comfortable you seemed with Chan, the sight alone enough to make him scoff. Call him a cynic, but he couldn’t tell if this was you acting or not just to get your way.

“There could be another meeting for you to discuss and work on the script together, but yeah, we’re alright with changing it.”

You turned to Changbin, a hint of distrust in your stare, making him huff again, putting down his drink on the table with a little too much force.

“He said it, not me,” he told you, pressing his lips firmly into a tight line, “you wanna change my script so badly? Fine. But your ideas better be worth changing it for.”

Jisung scrunched up his nose as you turned back to Chan, not wishing to look at Changbin’s face any longer, leaning over to whisper to Changbin, “you two don’t like each other very much, do you?”

If he was caught off guard by Jisung’s statement, he didn’t show it.

Changbin shrugged, picking his drink back up, “they started it.”

At the sound of his accusation, your eyes narrowed, turning to glare at Changbin, thankful for Jisung nudging you under the table before you could retaliate with a comment of your own. Chan simply casting you an amused look, his eyebrows raised in a silent question of what you were about to do.

You shook your head.

Whatever, you pushed your annoyance away in your head, as long as Chan was there during the rewrite meeting, you’d hopefully still be able to maintain your sanity.

Or at least, that was the hope that you were holding on to until that night when you’d gotten a text from Chan.

Chan 11:17pm - hey, i gave changbin your number if you don't mind... you know, since you guys have to discuss to rewrite the script and all -

You’d almost sat up from your bed in shock, frowning against the harsh light coming from your phone and the contents of the text, the latter obviously making you more disgruntled.

11:17pm - won’t you be discussing with us?? Why not just make a group chat??? -

Your heart was pumping with anxiousness as you awaited his reply, something about the sound of the clock ticking putting you in an even more anxious state, your heart almost sinking as texts from him and Changbin had come in at the same time.

You looked at Chan’s first.

Chan 11:18pm - oh i didn’t tell you? All script writing is done by Changbin. I’m just in charge of the other elements like props and directing and whatnot -

You shut your eyes, suddenly wishing you could travel back a few seconds back in time and not have checked your phone when Chan had texted you. Bringing your fingers across your screen reluctantly as you typed a reply to him.

11:18pm - ohhh hahaha right i forgot, thanks chan -

Now for the bigger menace at hand. You swiped over to Changbin’s message, your finger lingering on his chat as you decided to stop being petty and just open it.

seo changbin 11:18pm - just so you know, i’m doing this only because Chan asked me to. we can go over the changes at my house. is saturday okay with you? -

You pulled your notifications bar down. Tomorrow was Friday, and from what you knew you were pretty much free on Saturday. Fortunately or unfortunately for you.

You took another deep breath as you typed out your reply to him. For your own sanity, you tried to ignore the way he felt the need to clarify that he wasn’t doing it for your sake.

11:18pm - saturday’s fine. What time?-

Resisting the urge to go offline when you saw him come online, you felt as though you were in some sort of staring contest through your phone as you watched him type, his message coming in quickly.

seo changbin 11:18pm -1? We could order in and discuss -

You sighed, it wasn’t enough that he had to take away one peaceful lunch from you today, but yet another one on Saturday.

11:19pm -okay text me your address-

Another sigh left you when you read that the address he’d sent you was just a few blocks away from your apartment. Maybe he lived alone too; most of the apartments here were occupied by college students looking for affordable rent and shorter travel time.

seo changbin 11:19pm - don't be late -

You scoffed, shoving your phone back onto your bedside table as you slumped back against your pillow, burying your head into your pillow and kicking at your blanket that covered your feet uncomfortably.

Fine, if he wanted to be that way, that was fine by you. You would just do this for the sake of the short film. Yeah. That’s all it would be.

===

“Let’s make this quick and painless for the both of us,” you blurted the moment Changbin had opened his door to let you in, glad to see he was donning an outfit similar to yours (sweatpants and a t-shirt), your previous worries of being underdressed dissipating instantly.

He let out a sigh, his hand coming up to run it through his hair, his hair messy and sticking up at one place awkwardly, looking as though he’d slept on that side for too long.

“Hello to you too,” he grumbled, shutting the door behind you as he gestured to the living room.

You glanced around his rather plain apartment as he led you to the living room, his laptop resting on one of the cushions of the sofa, soft music verberating from the device.

“What food do you want?” he asked, earning a thoughtful frown from you as you set your things down on the floor next to the sofa, taking a seat on the other side of it.

“Fastest delivery would be if we order from that Chinese food place nearby, right?”

Changbin’s eyebrows quirked up in intrigue, “I was thinking of that place too,” he handed you his phone, letting you order what you wanted before handing it back to him.

It was otherwise silent between the both of you as you waited for the food to arrive, neither of you quite knowing how to break the silence. The tension slowly made you grow increasingly fidgety as time passed.

Changbin had sat down on the floor next to the coffee table, resting one hand on his soft rug as he pushed a stack of papers towards you, drawing your attention away from your soft copy of the script on your phone as you realised it was a hard copy of the script.

“Just use this, i’ve got a copy on my laptop,” he mumbled, making you nod, accepting it from him as you flipped to where you left off.

Changbin glanced at the clock, in disbelief that only 10 minutes had passed and yet he found himself feeling jittery at your silence. Turning his gaze towards you, he let out a small sigh.

He had expected you to say something by now, or let out some snarky comment about something he wrote. Your silence was unnerving him, it was almost as if he wanted you to say something, especially with the way you were scribbling notes beside the pages with a mechanical pencil he didn’t even recall seeing you take out.

“Which scene are you at?” he blurted, his anxiousness getting the better of him, making your head shoot up abruptly, surprised at his sudden outburst.

“Uh,” you glanced back down at the page, “I’m at the part where they find out they used to be penpals,” you told him.

“Okay,” Changbin murmured, thinking about where to go from there, momentarily distracted when he’d heard the doorbell ring. Pausing, he’d stepped out momentarily to retrieve your food, the rustling of bags getting louder as he neared the table.

Setting the food down on the table, surprising you when he’d pushed the food towards you, your surprise hadn’t gone unnoticed by Changbin.

“What?” he scoffed.

You shrugged, “nothing, just didn’t know you were capable of doing nice things,” you told him, a sarcastic lilt to your tone.

Changbin inhaled deeply, shooting you a patronizing smile as he broke his chopsticks, “anyway, I think we could start from there, since that’s kind of the turning point of their relationship.”

You nodded, pulling your food towards you as you began to eat.

“I was thinking,” you spoke, pausing to chew on your food, “this part has a lot of unanswered questions, like… I wouldn’t just let it go so easily if I found out someone was my penpal that I grew apart from. I felt like they should’ve had a bit more of a confrontation there.”

Changbin hummed, shocking you when he’d leant closer to you to look at the script, making you push it towards him, a small huff leaving him at your action.

“What questions do you think Penny would ask, then?” he asked you.

“I don’t know, maybe why they stopped talking in the first place?” there was a hint of sarcasm in your tone, making Changbin look at you over his mouthful of noodles.

“I told you already, Soobin grew out of it—”

You grimaced at his answer, your chopsticks halting before your mouth momentarily before you shovelled your noodles in with annoyance, “I don’t believe that.”

“I used to have a penpal, and I can guarantee you, the reason why we stopped talking wasn’t because we ‘grew out of it’,” you told him pointedly, having to stop yourself from growing too riled up about it, Changbin tensing up at your revelation.

Bringing his glass of water to his lips, he let his gaze wander around everything but you as he thought, curious as to what your penpal experience was like. Finally meeting your gaze, he almost sputtered over his water with how much he wasn’t paying attention to his actions, the only thing on his mind being to get his words out.

“You did?” It was pathetic, really, that that was all he’d come up with after such a long pause.

You nodded.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter, the story isn’t based on my penpal, it’s based on yours,” you attempted to draw the attention away from you, unsettling feelings of sourness building within you at the thought of how you left things.

“So, think. What would you be curious about?” you prompted him, seeing him purse his lips, a certain dazed look tinting his gaze.

Swallowing his mouthful of food, he looked at you as he thought. He would want to know if they were still passionate about acting, he would want to know how their family was doing, he would want to know if their personality had changed, if they were still the assertive ‘go after what you want’ character that had encouraged him so much. Or maybe, just how they are.

Changbin’s lips parted, shaking his head slowly, “... so many things,” he murmured.

An unexpected tension fell between the both of you, Changbin’s eyes meeting yours with a sort of unspeakable thoughtfulness, as if he was still thinking about your question.

You broke eye contact first, “write that, then. Who knows? Maybe they’re both as curious as the other.”

“You’re one of those glass half full people, aren’t you?” he huffed, making you click your tongue in annoyance.

“And what? You have no glass at all?” you retorted.

“Would you still be… curious too? Even If it didn’t end well?” he asked suddenly, a stupid question, Changbin thought, but still something he felt compelled to ask in the moment, as if he wanted the confirmation that you, someone with a penpal experience as well had shared the same sentiments as him.

You nodded, “of course I’d be. I could hate you and still be curious about you,” you shrugged.

“Me?” Changbin asked, making your eyes widen, the tension dissipating slightly as you shook your head vigorously, your hands coming up to wave at him dismissively.

“No no, not you. I meant-” you stopped yourself, glaring at him, “I just meant it as an example.”

And for what you were sure was the first time, Changbin had laughed, beginning to feel a bit more comfortable around you, his eyes forming narrow slits and the apples of his cheeks rounding slightly as he grinned, soft breathy giggles leaving him.

“Alright, I get it. It’s not a secret that you don’t like me.”

You huffed, not being able to help but feel the need to reassure him, “you’re not… that bad I guess. Jisung talks you up all the time.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to reassure him that you didn’t have a burning hatred for him, “you’re just stubborn as hell.”

He scoffed, “I could say the same about you.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, reaching over to flip the page, “glad to know we’re on the same page, then.”

“Now that you said it,” Changbin began, moving on quickly from your bickering as he shoved his empty food packaging aside, “I do think Soobin would be curious about the things they talked about in their letters.”

You perked up at that, eyebrows raising, “That reminded me, I actually still have some of the letters from my penpal when we were younger, if you want I can loan them to you for some inspiration or something.”

Changbin nodded, flipping over to another page before pausing to type something on his computer, “yeah, actually that would be useful.”

You continued to look at the script for what had become hours, the both of you deciding it would be easier if you each assumed one of the character’s voices, speaking on behalf of the characters as you discussed. Coming up with a ‘what would soobin/penny do?’ process.

All the while during this discussion, Changbin had been scribbling down in his beaten up journal, the sides of the spine of the book peeling off when he’d set it down on the table, making you grimace.

“Do you think Pe—”

“Why don’t you just get a new journal? This one’s making such a mess,” you blurted out, frowning at the way the little brittle pieces of God knows what material covered his notebook had fallen onto the coffee table, making him tear his gaze away from what he was writing, looking at the mess on the coffee table you were gesturing at and letting out an amused huff.

“Oh, didn’t notice,” he smiled, “but that won’t be necessary, this journal’s been serving me fine.”

“It’s literally falling apart,” you pointed out.

“And you’re literally exaggerating.”

You scoffed.

“I mean, look at it, it’s such a hassle to use, since you have to keep cleaning up whenever you do so much as touch it,” you reasoned, seeing him shake his head.

“I don’t need a new journal, I’m perfectly fine using this one,” he told you, making you scrunch your nose up in distaste, Changbin looking at you with amusement heavily laden in his smile.

It seemed that there was something about the hours of bouncing off ideas and bickering that warmed the both of you up more, not feeling as wound up or hostile towards each other as you did a few hours ago, bonding over a shared want for the short film to be good.

“What?” he asked, leaning back against the sofa and resting his arm on one of the cushions, his other hand grasping his fingers as he awaited your response.

“You sound exactly like my mom,” you had a sour look on your face, continuing, “I bet you’re one of those needs versus wants people.” You huffed in amusement, shifting in your seat as you flipped through the scene you were about to discuss.

Changbin’s lips parted in shock, a breathy huff leaving him, “and what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, “You know, those people that decide on buying things through the concept of needing it or not.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, “yeah, like any other normal person.”

“It’s so boring! Ever heard of the concept of treating yourself?” you huffed, gesturing wildly. You were clearly very passionate about this.

Changbin shook his head, the smile lingering on his face, “I’m starting to understand why you’re Jisung’s friend. Sure, a treat once in a while is understandable, but i’d rather not waste my money on things I could do without.”

You huffed, a deep sigh leaving you, recalling a conversation you had with Binnie about his scooter.

“What’s up with boys and this need versus want thing? My penpal said the same thing even though he was only eight,” you mumbled, a small breath of laughter leaving your lips, leaving Changbin frowning at your statement.

Maybe other kids just talked about the same things he did with Y/N? He brushed the thought aside.

“He did?”

Changbin’s voice came out more hoarse than he’d intended, the intent in his stare making you falter momentarily, forgetting what you were doing just for a second.

Thankfully, you’d snapped out of whatever trance you were in, shaking your head dismissively, “nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

Changbin tilted his head at you, narrowing his eyes as he contemplated whether to pursue it or not, watching closely as you busied yourself with flipping pages just to look busy, even though the inside of your mind was spinning with an indescribable feeling that came with convincing yourself that the drift between you and your penpal was merely circumstantial.

You chewed on your lip, hating the way it felt as though your stomach was churning as you remembered the disappointment you felt when your letters had stopped getting sent through.

You were young, surely you shouldn’t blame yourself, you believed that. Your finger fiddled with the corner of the page, staring at Soobin’s dialogue.

‘Did our conversations even mean anything to you?’ the dialogue read, and you inhaled deeply as your head lifted to look at Changbin, your abrupt movement almost making him flinch in surprise.

“Why did you really stop talking to your penpal?” you sighed, curiosity getting the better of you. Though at this point you weren’t sure if it was curiosity or simply reassurance. Maybe even closure. All of which you needed to satisfy.

Changbin knew you weren’t going to accept his ‘grew out of it’ statement for an answer, deciding to be honest with you, you know, for the sake of the short film.

“I just… stopped hearing from them,” he began, heaving a sigh of his own as he shifted in his seat, picking at the imaginary dust on his sweatpants, “guess they had nothing to say.”

You couldn’t lie about it, you felt relieved. A part of you began to understand why he’d painted Penny’s character out to be like that, or furthermore why Soobin had seemed so affected by the revelation.

“Nothing to say…” you echoed, as if trying to wrap your head around his reasoning as well.

A small huff of amusement left him, though there was a hint of bitterness in his smile.

“I wouldn’t have minded, you know.”

He took his lower lip between his teeth, letting it go and you watched as the blood rushed back into his lips, looking redder than before.

Your eyebrows knit into a frown, “Wouldn’t have minded what?”

Changbin met your gaze, giving you a resigned shrug, “hearing it,” he continued, “nothing, everything.”

You could almost feel your heartbeat slowing down, the tense silence returning in the room and making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Now that was some dialogue.

“Oh,” you broke the silence, your blank expression reading pure shock, your reaction catching Changbin off guard, “write that down, that’s such a Soobin thing to say.”

Changbin couldn’t do anything but laugh, shaking his head at you, “how opportunistic of you,” he teased, though he wrote it down nonetheless.

Maybe you being here was good, Changbin thought, it reminded him not to take himself too seriously sometimes.

===

To: Binnie

How are you?

I hope you are not still sad about your friends. I would tell you not to listen to them but i know that’s difficult sometimes because you can hear everything they say. But they were being very mean so they are not nice people. I don’t agree with what they said, because i think you are very nice and you have a nice smile. I don’t think you are scary. Sometimes my mom tells me i should smile more so people think i’m happy but I think you should just smile if you are happy. If you are sad then you can be sad. It is not a bad thing. I’m your friend because you’re nice to me and I like talking to you. If they’re going to be mean to you then they’re not your friends. If they do that to you again you can tell me their address and I will go and tell them myself!

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N

You’d shown up on the filming set on the first day absolutely buzzing from head to toe and ready to go (though, when you told Jisung about how you felt he’d insisted it was because of the lack of substantial sleep and the cans of energy drink you’d both drank the night before while he was helping you prepare your lines), but it seemed that everyone on the set was more tense than ever.

You found Hyunjin huddled with a few of them next to the sound cart, deciding to approach them to ask where Changbin was, having bought a coffee for him along the way.

“Hey,” you called, Hyunjin jumping in shock as he turned, his hand over his heart as he winced at you.

“Why do you move so quietly!” he groaned, making you dismiss him with a wave.

“Did something happen? You guys look stressed,” you took a step towards them, possible reasons fluttering around in your mind but none seeming quite appropriate for the context you were in. Maybe the semester’s GPA results were out?

“Whatever, do you guys know where I can find Changbin?” The boy next to Hyunjin, a freshman by the name of Jeongin had sucked in a sharp breath at your question, making you grow even more confused.

“He’s… a little tense these days, so I’d suggest being a more careful around him,” Chan explained, earning nods of agreement from the film club members.

Your eyebrows raised, confusion showing in a slight pout on your lips. You didn’t remember him behaving out of the ordinary when you’d seen him the day before.

“Where’d he go?”

“He’s over there,” Chan pointed towards where the camera was set up and true enough, you saw Changbin seated at a bench there busying himself with his phone.

Nodding, you’d made your way over to Changbin, discomfort growing within you at the stares you were getting from the club members (some of which you didn’t even know the names of) as you made your way towards the blonde haired boy. It was a wonder why they all avoided him like the plague.

Changbin seemed to have sensed your presence, looking up from his phone and giving you a small wave as you reached the bench, sitting down next to him and holding out his cup of coffee.

Accepting it gratefully, he’d given you a nod.

“Thanks,” he glanced at your hands, “you didn’t get one for yourself?”

You let out a small burst of chuckles, “nope, figured it wasn’t the most logical thing to do since i’m already pretty alert from last night’s energy drinks.”

Changbin sucked in a sharp breath, clicking his tongue in teasing disapproval, “I figured as much, Jisung was way too hyper when I met him at the studio.”

Your expression was sheepish, “I’d say I was sorry but it was... important.”

Changbin huffed, “It’s alright, as long as you’re taking care of yourself.”

Before you could react to his statement, Changbin had acted as though he hadn’t said anything, an amused smile playing at his lips as he tore his gaze away from you, looking forward as he took a sip from his cup, “ready to film today?”

You nodded, regaining your bearings, trying not to think too much of his words.

“Pretty much, you?”

Changbin nodded, “yeah, even though we still have a little bit of the script left, I would say i’m pretty confident.”

You glanced behind Changbin, spotting Hyunjin looking at the both of you with sheer disbelief, making you roll your eyes, turning back to Changbin, angling your body on the bench so you could hug your knees to your chest, looking at him curiously.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded, looking at you with confusion written in his features, clasping his hands around his coffee cup as he rested his hands on his lap, “yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Maybe it was just his resting bitch face.

“Smile,” you commanded, nodding your head when he’d looked even more confused.

You watched in amusement as Changbin had laughed, shaking his head before looking at you with an all too sarcastic smile, his hand coming up in a peace sign next to his cheek, a smile unknowingly making its way onto your face at the sight.

“Okay now, don’t smile,” you continued.

Changbin had let his smile fall, looking just the same as he did when you’d shown up, making you press your lips into a firm line, a slight knit in your brows as your eyes narrowed.

Turning his head, he straightened up.

“Cool, Minho’s here,” he said, getting up and holding a hand out to help you up.

“Thanks,” you muttered, not expecting him to turn around and give you a smile.

“Let’s go, Penny.”

It was strange to you that there was something that felt so familiar about his smile, it reminded you of something that made you feel nostalgic. You liked seeing him smile. Changbin had a nice smile.

You brushed the thought away, nodding as you took his hand, letting him help you out.

“What, so you guys don’t hate each other anymore?” Jisung groaned later on that same week when you’d told him about the exchange you had.

He lifted his head from where he lay on your bed, “God, with you guys it’s like everyday’s something different.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him in amusement, “well… that’s because it is, isn’t it?”

You spotted the box of letters from your childhood penpal hidden beneath a stack of novels you had yet to unpack, your eyes glistening with triumph as you reached into your storage closet, fishing it out with a grunt.

“Come to think of it, Changbin hasn’t said anything about you since that day you met him to rewrite the script,” he murmured thoughtfully.

Heaving a sigh as you got up from your squat, you closed your closet, “which day? We met up a few times for the script.”

Jisung perked up at that, sitting up slightly and supporting his weight with his elbows.

“You did? Why am I only finding out about this now?” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, walking over to your desk to set the box onto it, “I told you about it, you just forgot.”

Making your way over to the bed, you flopped down onto your belly next to Jisung, looking at him curiously as he frowned at you. His mention of Changbin had made you curious.

“He… really hasn’t said anything about me?” you dared to ask, regretting it almost immediately when Jisung had taken the opportunity to twist your words.

Jisung’s expression had changed to one that you were all too used to, how his eyes would give away that he was thinking of saying something to tease you, his lips curving into a slight smirk.

“Why? Do you want him to be talking about you?”

You wrinkled your nose, a small panicked scoff leaving you, “yeah, right. Don’t get too carried away there.”

Jisung prodded further, leaning closer to you as he drawled, “well, why not? I mean, you said it yourself, you guys are on pretty good terms now, aren’t you?”

You purse your lips. The film club had been nice enough to give you a month longer to work on the script, you and Changbin ending up getting carried away and doing the whole thing over. And of course, within that month, you interacted with Changbin in some way or another almost everyday.

It could be meetings at his or your apartment, or spontaneous phone calls when one of you thought of an idea and you’d felt inspired to discuss it (even if you were on your bed tucked into your sheets when it happened most of the time), sometimes it was even just simple texts checking up on each other and asking what the other thought about the updates.

Nonetheless, you’d grown used to Changbin’s presence, finding that after that meeting at his house, it was like it had softened the both of you up to each other, especially when you realised your perception of Changbin was all wrong and that really, he was as soft as softies go.

You gave Jisung a shrug, tugging the neckline of your shirt down, feeling as though the room had gotten hotter, “I mean, yeah, I guess. He doesn’t annoy me as much as he used to.”

Jisung let out a chuckle, the laugh bubbling out louder as he continued.

“You know if you tell me you like him now, I won’t make fun of you.”

“You’re lying.”

“So, you do like him?” His grin widened, making you sputter for a better response, figuring you’d dug your own grave with that one.

“Don’t stir shit,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Your reaction had only tickled him even more, clutching his belly as he sighed, “I knew it. Remember? I told you he was your type!” his tone was triumphant, making you regret fuelling his suspicions.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re very happy about that,” you huffed, turning away from him and burying your face in your soft sheets, your hand coming up next to your head to smooth over the fabric.

You felt Jisung’s hand on your arm, his expression grim.

“Wait, so am I really right? You like him?”

You shrugged his hand away, though he hadn’t budged, giving up soon after.

“I mean,” you enjoyed your last moment of peace before you decided to reply to him, “he’s cute, I won’t deny that. And he’s become a lot nicer to me… he’s fun to talk to? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little attracted to him.”

Jisung snickered, “that’s cute, but gross. I can’t believe you like Changbin.”

Trust him to only get that out of whatever you’d just told him.

You turned to give him a wide-eyed look of disbelief, “oh, please, you were the one that kept fluffing him up to me!”

Jisung had simply shrugged, unfazed by your outburst, a small sound of hesitation leaving him.

“I would say I did a minimal amount of fluffing. I just called it before the both of you realised.”

You grit your teeth, “fine, enjoy your moment. But one word about it to Changbin and you’re dead. Got it?”

Jisung’s eyes widened, his hand coming up to mimic zipping up his lips.

“Got it.”

===

“Cut!”

You turned to cast a desperate look to Chan, the said boy looking apologetic as he called for a stop again. You watched as he leant down for Changbin to murmur something in his ear, Chan nodding before making his way over to you and Minho.

“We’re thinking maybe you could try that scene again but maybe with just a little more… in the moment? Maybe try not to rush through it,” Chan suggested to Minho, making the said boy groan.

“Sorry, it’s my fault. It’s just- we’ve been filming for hours, if I wasn’t so scared of Changbin I would’ve—”

“I know,” Chan reassured Minho, giving the both of you a small smile, “hopefully we can get this scene done quickly and then we’ll all be free to go, hmm?”

You nodded, letting Chan make his way back to where the monitor was as you got back into position with Minho.

Changbin watched intently as you and Minho acted out the scene again, something about the way Minho was delivering his lines seeming so unaligned with the picture Changbin had in his head. Was it the lines that weren't doing it for him? Was it because Changbin couldn’t quite tap into the emotions of the character in this scene?

He wasn’t sure what exactly it would look or sound like to be in love, but whatever ‘Soobin’ was showing, sure wasn’t what Changbin wanted it to be.

After you’d finished the scene, the film club members had waited anxiously for Changbin’s greenlight on whether they were free to go, all of them anxiously looking on as Chan went to talk to a few of them at props.

You taken the liberty of making your way over to where Changbin was, seeing him intently monitoring the scene that you’d just shot, the reason behind why he’d made you and Minho run through the same scene 15 times starting to become clear to you.

“That’s not gonna help you make it better, you know?” you spoke, shoving your hands into your pocket and scrunching your eyes shut as you braced against the cool wind that was blowing your way, the trees rustling loudly as Changbin’s head shot up, the frown remaining on his face.

“What?” Changbin figured he came off as a little too annoyed, but he stayed unwavering nonetheless, wanting to know just what you thought you knew about him.

“You know, I watched an interview once, and this actor said something that was so true,” you began, taking a seat next to him, feeling his gaze on you before you continued, your gaze falling on the image of you and Minho on the monitor, “he said that playback makes scenes seem a lot more dissatisfactory.”

Changbin’s frown deepened, “I don’t get it, just spit it out.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile, “I’m trying to give you advice here, okay? As I was saying, be in the moment. Not everything’s gonna turn out like how it is in your head.”

You inhaled deeply, a slight shiver running down your spine at how cold you felt, taking a hand out of your pocket to tap him on the arm.

“Now can you wrap it up and call it a day? The rest of them have been dying to go home but they’re too scared to tell you.”

Changbin hummed, “They are? Why?”

You nodded, seeing Changbin already making to stand up and call for the rest’s attention, with you taking the opportunity to lean over to him and mutter, “Dunno, maybe they just haven’t figured out what a softie you are yet.”

Changbin attempted to press his lips together firmly to contain his smile, though eventually giving up and letting the soft smile be shown on his face as he dismissed the club members, the rest of them already having started shifting their equipment back.

You’d decided to help them shift the equipment while Changbin talked to Chan about something, trying your best to ignore the way the weather seemed to be getting chillier as all the equipment had started feeling cold to the touch. Mental note to start wearing warmer clothes out after today.

“Thanks for convincing Changbin to free us,” Hyunjin sighed when you were coming down the stairs after locking the club room, making you huff.

“He’s not some dictator, you know. You guys could just ask him next time,” you reasoned.

Hyunjin scoffed, “I’d much rather keep my life, thank you very much.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your phone as you thought whether to text Jisung if he’d wanted to meet for dinner.

“You’re so dramatic,” you told Hyunjin, “I told him and I got to keep my life.”

Hyunjin scoffed, “that’s cause he—”

He stopped himself abruptly, eyes widening for a split second before he shrugged, “that’s cause you fight with him all the time, it’s different.”

You saw a text come in.

Changbin 8:14pm - do u wanna go get dinner? I’m done talking to Chan -

“Speak of the devil,” you murmured, erasing your drafted text to Jisung and replying to Changbin to say that you would wait at the quad.

Changbin 8:14pm - i was thinking of eating some cold noodles -

You grimaced at the thought, Hyunjin pulling you out of your thoughts, “are you waiting for Changbin?”

You nodded, sensing his hesitancy to let you wait there alone, “you go ahead, I’ll be fine, he’s already on his way.”

Hyunjin frowned, turning to see Changbin from afar already making his way over, Changbin having spotted the both of you and given Hyunjin a wave.

Waving back, Hyunjin nodded, “alright, I’ll see you.”

Tugging your jacket tighter around yourself, you folded your arms, hoping Changbin would hurry up so you could finally go somewhere with heating.

Though once he’d met up with you, you were a little confused when he’d gone a completely different direction than you’d expected, leading you to a traditional restaurant that served mainly soups and broths instead.

Don’t get me wrong, you were thankful for the warmth of the restaurant, of course, but just a little confused about why he changed his mind.

You let him order for the both of you, looking curiously from where you were seated facing him, leaning back in the wooden chairs as Changbin ordered from the older lady running the shop.

“I thought you wanted to eat cold noodles?” you scanned the menu in search of the item, confusion increasing when you found nothing of the sort.

Changbin shook his head, “figured you might wanna eat something warmer,” he admitted, making your lips part in surprise.

“How’d you know?”

Changbin didn’t know how to explain that it was because he’d kept looking at you during shooting and he didn’t miss the way your hands would clench and unclench the fabric of your clothes, or how you’d fold your arms more and shake them out in between takes when you thought no one was looking.

“… just a wild guess.”

You brushed his comment aside, the both of you talking about your upcoming classes or complaining about readings that had yet to be read, the sheer boiling temperature of the stone pot making heat rush to your cheeks and spread through your body, thankful for Changbin’s wild guess.

Leaning back in your seat with your hands over your stomach, you sighed at how full you were feeling, already anticipating your food coma as you let yourself zone out staring at the label of Changbin’s bottle of soju.

“Are they really scared of me?”

You’d dragged yourself out of your daze (reluctantly), your lips pursing, “sorry, what did you say?”

Changbin averted his gaze, fiddling with his fingers under the table. Smoothing his thumb over the soft skin at his palm, his tongue poking at his canines before he looked back at you, meeting your gaze with a certain determination.

“The film club people,” he repeated, “are they really scared of me?”

You shrugged, “yeah, I guess. Like, they talked about it before… I guess it’s because you have that serious expression on a lot so they might take it the wrong way.”

Observing his expression, his lips had parted, a blank expression on his face, “I have a serious expression?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, tilting your head at him, “I think It’s just your resting face. They’re kind of wary of how they act around you during meetings, you know, which is why they had that kind of reaction when I first spoke up about the script.”

Changbin let his grip around his spoon relax, whatever rice he’d scooped into it dispersing into the soup.

“Then why aren’t you scared?”

You almost snorted with how immediate your laughter had bubbled out of you, a bout of chuckles leaving you as your shoulders shook lightly.

“Because,” you waved your spoon slightly, “there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Changbin’s blank expression had prompted you to continue.

“I have no problem with you being assertive about what you want,” you explained, “I mean, if it were my script, i’d probably be equally, if not more, assertive about how I want it. But that’s a good thing about you. You don’t just… shut up if something doesn’t sit right with you. That’s something I’ve always thought was really important.”

Call him crazy, but Changbin couldn’t adequately describe how your words had done more in spreading a giddy warmth in his chest than the food ever could.

He wasn’t always like this. If anything, he’d wanted to say that he’d pushed himself to be more assertive after countless conversations with his penpal about not being afraid to speak up for what you want.

Though he’d always been scared of whether he’d be doing a disservice to the people he worked with if he chose not to speak up, he was glad that you reminded him just why he started doing it in the first place.

Penny’s character in his head had started to look more and more like you. And he was glad.

“You wanna hear something crazy?” You blurted.

You didn’t know where you were going with this. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, really. You just knew that saying what you said to him had triggered a sense of what you could only describe as love within you. If you knew anything about it.

“What?” he asked, the smile on his face making you stop in your tracks. How could he remind you so much of someone, yet seem so much like a mature, upgraded version of them at the same time?

You couldn’t possibly tell him that you were starting to be kind of glad that you didn’t meet Binnie, because you felt like you were looking at him right now. And childhood penpal or not, you were so much more smitten with the one sitting before you.

“Nothing,” you breathed, “nothing, sorry, forget I said anything.”

Your revelation reminded you that you’d brought your old letters from Binnie for Changbin to tap on for inspiration to write the last scene, shutting your mouth and turning to fish the box out of your bag.

“I just remembered, you asked for these right?” you pushed the box towards him, seeing him pick up the box gingerly (as though it were that brittle old notebook he uses), placing it into his bag.

“I’m assuming they’re the letters from your old penpal?”

You nodded, “but don’t laugh when you read them, okay? He was really nice to me.”

Changbin huffed, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, “yeah, yeah, no promises.”

After you were done with your dinner (Changbin paying for it as a supposed ‘thank you’ for being patient during filming), you’d prepared yourself to fight against the cold night breeze as you stepped out of the restaurant before Changbin, not having expected to feel a warm weight being draped over your shoulders.

“I don’t know why you decided to come out without a coat when you know now’s usually when the weather gets colder,” he tutted his tongue, feigning disapproval, not giving you any time to be shocked at his gesture.

He stood in front of you, tugging the coat tighter around you as he met your gaze, giving you a tired smile.

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”

You bit down on your lip, your racing heart and panic making the best reply you could come up with to be a mere, “didn’t peg you to be so gentlemanly.”

To which Changbin shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“I can be pretty romantic if I want.”

You were gonna get whiplash at this rate.

That same night (or day, 3am was a fine line), you’d received an email from Changbin of the last scene for the film, reading through it and having to stop in between for breaths and water breaks because you had no idea Changbin was capable of encompassing such romantic sentiments in a scene.

Looking at what he wrote, you would never have thought he was the same person that kept arguing with you about happy endings going to shit.

Changbin had written the scene in a burst of inspiration, having felt an almost uncomfortably foreign giddiness within him after returning home from your dinner, feeling even more motivated when he’d watched the film footage they’d shot earlier that day (unconsciously rewinding more than once to watch you act) deciding to just go with whatever he was feeling and write down the scene he had in mind.

And if anyone was asking, no, he totally didn’t picture you as Penny and himself as Soobin the entire time while doing so.

By the time you were done, it was almost an hour later, the aftermath of reading his scene making you pick your phone up and send him a text.

4:02am - did something happen? What’s with the lovey dovey script? Did someone finally change their mind about Penny? -

Not long after, Changbin’s reply came in, feeling thankful that he’d only decided to open your box of letters, or more accurately his letters, after he was done with the scene, something about what he found putting him in an all too thoughtful mood.

Changbin 4:04am -let’s just say... i took your advice-

===

“What do you think, Changbin?” Chan’s voice had snapped Changbin out of his daze, the latter looking at Jisung with a shrug.

“I would say you’re just short changing yourself if you didn’t talk to her. I mean, you said you liked her, right? So what are you waiting for?” Changbin sounded almost impatient, his tone eliciting a grunt from Jisung.

“Yeah, you say it like you’re not the one hiding your hopeless crush on Y/N.”

Chan’s eyes widened, not having expected Jisung to say it so blatantly.

Changbin sputtered, looking at Chan for help only to be met with giggles.

“I’m sorry, dude, it was really quite easy to tell.”

Changbin wanted the cushioned booth to swallow him whole, scrunching his eyes tightly shut in a wince.

“Whatever, that’s not the point,” he waved Jisung off dismissively, “we’re talking about your love life here.”

Jisung pursed his lips, shaking his head, “it’s not fun anymore, I wanna talk about yours.”

Changbin glared at Jisung, “i’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Good, ‘cause you should be having it with Y/N.”

Chan raised an eyebrow at the younger boy, humming in suspicion.

“Why do you sound like you know things...”

Jisung shrugged, raising his hands to give a dramatic shrug, “Do I? I guess we’ll never find out since Changbin ‘isn’t gonna have this conversation with me’.”

Chan turned to Changbin, who currently looked as though he would rather die than be here right now, “actually, what are you waiting for?”

Changbin brought a hand up to massage his fingers on his temples, a resigned sigh leaving him.

“I don’t know, I’ll probably not do anything until the showcase. I still don’t know how exactly I wanna go about it.”

Jisung snickered, “you’ll be fine, seriously.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll just enjoy whatever time I have left to think about it till the showcase. Now back to your issue… ”

But obviously, Changbin didn’t use his 3 days of buffer time very well.

He was lucky the atmosphere of the showcase and the unexpected crowd of people had prolonged the time until he’d be in a situation where he’d feel compelled to talk to you about it. Whatever it was.

You hadn’t noticed, obviously, the way Changbin had been keeping himself busy talking to guests and teachers that had shown up, people from the media and publications club. You were too busy being whisked away by your own friends and a already slightly tipsy Minho who thought it was a good idea to pregame drinks before the afterparty later on.

It’d only been when things started calming down and people were actually watching the film that you’d been put in a position where you had no choice other than to think about the boy seated in front of you tapping his foot incessantly on the carpeted floor of the auditorium.

Once the show was over, you’d leant forward, about to congratulate him when you’d both been whisked up by one of the teachers-in-charge, pulling you together with Minho onto the stage to answer questions from the audience.

The questions were fairly simple, most of them from the media and publications club trying to get technical details for their article, allowing you to zone out from where you stood on the stage, letting Changbin smoothly answer all the questions they could possibly throw at him. It wasn’t like Minho was in any position to answer them, tipsy and zoned out of his mind.

It was only when you’d heard him fumbling around with his words that you looked up from the spot on the wall you were staring at, turning to look at Changbin with an embarrassing amount of concern on your features.

“I’m sorry can you repeat the question?” you’d spoken into the microphone, hearing someone that sounded almost identical to Jisung asking how he got inspiration from the story.

You looked at Changbin curiously, as if silently asking if he needed you to step in, only to have him look at you with a blank expression, his mouth opening and closing as he fumbled for an answer.

“Oh, well, I’m sure I can answer this on behalf of Changbin,” you began, “we’d worked on the script together, and it was inspired by a lot of things, like our experiences with pen pals as well as movies like ‘you’ve got mail’.”

Changbin’s shoulders slumped with relief, nodding towards you as a silent thanks, the moment cut short when you were once again whisked away into different crowds to take pictures or to carpool to the afterparty.

Though you were bored 10 minutes into the party, Minho having gotten drunk before you could even get past your second drink, you’d let Changbin have his fun. You figured it was a good thing that he was being recognized for his efforts, even if he didn’t look like he was enjoying the attention very much. He needed it, you supposed, to be forced to see how much people enjoyed the work he made.

But you didn’t stay to see it too long, adjourning to the porch of whoever’s house you were in to enjoy an environment away from the loud music and too many people you didn’t know.

“Already bored?”

You’d jumped at the sound of Changbin’s voice, his footsteps loud against the wooden porch as he took a seat next to you on the swing, holding out his bottle of soda to you, “do you want some?”

You shook your head, seeing him shrug, “suit yourself, then.” He took a long sip of his soda, sighing afterwards.

A tired smile on your face, you let out a deep sigh, “didn’t expect you to find me here so quickly.”

“How could I not?” he laughed, shaking his head, “In case you didn’t notice, I was suffocating in there, figured I deserve a break.”

“Good job, though, I’d say you handled everything well…” you started, your smile growing, “... though there is one thing… I didn’t think you were the type to struggle with public speaking.”

Changbin’s lips parted in shock, scoffing, “shut up, I don’t usually.”

“Sure, you don’t,” you teased, bringing your hands to your sides to support your weight, letting your legs lift off the ground as Changbin used his feet to move the swing gently.

You leant back in your seat, enjoying the silence you were able to get out here as compared to the chaos going on within the house, noticing how tense Changbin seemed, his posture anything but relaxed as he’d let out sigh after sigh, tapping his rings against the seat of the bench absently.

“Relax,” you chuckled, “it’s already over.”

Doing the opposite of relaxing, Changbin simply stopped moving the swing, angling his body to face you more as he fished in his blazer pocket for something, pulling out an envelope from his jacket, “I have uh… something for you.”

Holding it out for you to take, your gaze fell on the colourful envelope, the little strawberry stickers you remembered using your savings to buy as you frowned at the address written on the envelope in your old messy ‘princess handwriting’.

Your gaze darted from the envelope back to him, “how did you… how do you have this?”

“I have it,” he began, letting out yet another sigh, “because you sent it to me.”

If it could, your heart would’ve stopped in that exact moment.

“Read it,” he prompted when you’d stayed silent, your hands moving urgently to open the envelope, your heart feeling warm when you pulled the paper out, already being able to see the ‘To: Binnie’ written with your favourite scented marker.

To: Binnie

How are you? I’m fine. I am writing this very late in the night because I finished my rehearsal for my school play in the evening and I just finished taking a bath. I have to be quick or my mom is gonna scold me for not sleeping yet. I wanted to tell you that you should sign up for the competition. Which is why I have to mail this to you A.S.A.P as possible because you said the sign up closes in a few days. I think that you should just try it out, even if you don’t do well. Because then at least you can say that you gave it a try and you had fun. I saw this on a tv show, and they said if you don’t try, you will never know if it will turn out well, because you didn’t try.

So I’m telling you to try!!!!! Just try your best and have fun. I think you will do well.

Till next time, Your penpal Y/N.

“So this is me… trying… it. Whatever it is,” he sounded out of breath, almost, and your heart had begun to pick up speed at how it seemed as though this would be the time where he would confess his feelings to you (if Soobin and Penny were any guide to go by).

You should’ve known Changbin better by now, though.

“Thank you… for helping me with the film. You know, for giving me crap about it because I know that that wasn’t really what I felt. I was just… bitter, but for some reason, you giving me shit about it kind of reminded me why I liked being friends with my penpal- or, I guess, liked being friends with you, so much in the first place.” he was looking at you more confidently now, straightening up as he continued.

“It wasn’t because you gave me fake money to buy a scooter, or anything,” he laughed, “it was more because you were someone that was friends with me for who I was? You were kind, and you were honest.”

Changbin fiddled with the envelope in his hands as you tried your best to contain your smile.

“And you were especially supportive, you know, in your own argumentative way.”

You let out a huff of breathy laughter at that, your hand coming up to touch your necklace, finding something else to fiddle with to contain your anxiousness.

“I’m glad, though, that I didn’t know you were that Y/N,” he told you, “because I already grew to like this Y/N so much, that… finding out was just… a pleasant surprise.”

For the first time since you saw the letter, you’d spoken, a breathy, “me too,” leaving you, embarrassing you to no end.

“I’m glad it was you,” you murmured, averting your gaze, not having expected Changbin to have reached out a hand towards yours, hovering just momentarily before making the decisive action of grasping it gently.

“Me too.”

“So are you gonna explain why my letters—”

“Shh,” he shut his eyes, the smile on his face making you give in almost instantly, “don’t ruin it.”

===

“I didn’t know people even still sent letters these days,” Jisung snorted, sipping on his coffee that he’d just gone downstairs to buy, “here, you have one, but there's no name.”

You frowned, picking it up and finding the handwriting of your address awfully familiar, feeling as though you’d definitely seen it scribbled on a specific brittle old notebook before.

You flopped onto your bed, opening the letter as Jisung resumed playing whatever game he was busy with on your desktop computer.

Thankful for the distraction, you’d quickly unfolded it, scrunching your nose at his choice of pen name.

To: my penpal Y/N

This letter may just be over a decade overdue, but I wanted to firstly say I’m sorry for making you wait so long. That letter about my film competition, that was the last one I received from you, and one of my favourites. I figured it out, by the way, I gave you the wrong address. Phonics was a very tricky thing for my eight year old stubborn self that refused to cross check with my mom.

I figured sending you a letter was best, you know, since you know I'm not the very best at public speaking, or just speaking in general sometimes, I doubt I'd be able to say as eloquently what I wanted to say to you in this letter.

I wanted to give you a few updates. Firstly, I met someone in my film club. Well, technically I auditioned them for my short film so there’s no one to blame for the trouble they caused other than me. I didn’t like them that much at the beginning. I thought they were just trying to impose their stupid happily ever after beliefs on me, someone who thought I was a big bad cynical bitter man that didn’t believe in love stories.

As you probably guessed, they challenged me (a lot), and waiting to see them started to feel like the days where I would wait to hear my mom tell me that a letter came in for me, even better actually. They reminded me of the qualities in myself that I was always afraid of showing, and they reminded me what was so good about being unapologetic for who I was sometimes, because they accepted all of that, (but not without giving me an shit about it first, of course).

But i’m thankful, I’m thankful because I really grew to like them a lot. I liked how I could be comfortable being myself around her, and I liked how they would support me when I needed it, but also to correct me when I need to be corrected.

They were real, and I liked that, a lot.

So, the point of this was that if they ever happen to receive this, you know, (because I totally didn’t know your current address, obviously), I hope they know that I’ve grown to like them very much, to like the personality that i’ve come to know, and that i’m very excited to grow to know (and like) even more.

I’ll be seeing you, Binnie.

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