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1kook · 4 years ago

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viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ��eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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angsty-nerd · 3 years ago

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Meta: Echo’s Big Fight in 3x09

Let's talk about the Big Echo fight. Because wandering around in the fandom this past week, I’ve seen a lot of very specific conclusions as far as what they were or weren't arguing about, and I’m not sure my take on that scene really aligns with other folks. So let me try to break it down a bit and give y’all an alternative perspective on it.

To start with, the scene opens with Max on edge because they're breaking and entering. Liz is singularly focused on the mission, and he's kinda freaking out. Instead of responding to his concerns, Liz gets straight to business.

"Ooh, ooh, this is interesting. Heath left Genoryx two days after I did. Must have realized he didn't need to be working underneath their corporate thumb."

Liz is kinda projecting here. Heath never once displayed any discomfort with Genoryx as a company the way that she did. He wanted her to stay. He wanted the resources there. We know these things as an audience, and Liz would too if she was thinking through the big picture at this point in time.

Max, on the other hand, doesn't know any of that. Here's what Max hears from Liz: he hears surprise. He hears Liz acknowledge that this is unexpected news. And right as he’s processing this unexpected reveal...Max sees Heath's Wild Pony t-shirt.

Weird coincidence #1 from Max's POV was Heath (the guy who is currently so pissed at Liz that he won't take her calls) supposedly rescuing Liz's science out of the good of his heart so that Genoryx doesn’t get their hands on it? This doesn't add up.

Weird coincidence #2 was Heath quitting Genoryx - a decision Heath made that Liz wasn't expecting.

The Wild Pony t-shirt is now the 3rd thing that doesn't add up. And if the t-shirt clue isn't adding up for you, see my post about it here:

The T-shirt is strike 3 for Max. He can't really pretend that he's not suspicious of Heath anymore. So he broaches the subject with her.

"How much do you know about this guy, Heath? How close were you?"

Max is feeling uncomfortable and looking for more information. He's trying to make the clue make sense. Why would Heath have the T-shirt? Does he have a connection to Roswell that Liz doesn't know about? And Liz doesn’t listen.

"This isn't the time to be jealous about a boy I met."

For all that Liz is clinical and on mission, she jumps very quickly to assuming that Max is NOT on mission. Yes, Max is inherently more emotional than she is. But throughout the episode he's been asking questions about Heath and NOT JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS. That's one of the keys to me here. Max really is trying to give her the benefit of the doubt about him.

At Liz's house, he asked about "the boyfriend" but he wasn't doing it in a jealous or judgy way. If anything it could almost be interpreted as concern. He started with "were you happy" and only when Liz kind of metaphorically admitted that any happiness was a façade...that's when he brought Heath into it. And yeah, Liz says that he impacted her life and helped her grow, but she didn't exactly express romantic feelings that would make Max jealous. So when she basically jumped straight to the jealousy assumption instead of actually discussing this with him, he starts getting worked up. Because she is not hearing him. She is not acknowledging that the facts they have found during this investigation are not adding up. So he is honest and blunt about what he's thinking.

"I'm just saying it's possible that he took your one-of-a-kind alien spores and quit, so that, just like you, he could use the research himself, free of Genoryx."

Max is the one who brings the science into this conversation. Not Liz. And he's not criticizing or questioning HER application of the science. He's questioning the trustworthiness of Heath. Because the lies are starting to jump out at him like a friggin’ neon light.

BUT — now that he's specifically brought up the science, he has her attention. Because Max questioning her science is HER sore spot. So what does she say back to him? Something kinda judgy.

"That grand trust speech certainly had a short shelf life."

Side note: I really don't think there actually was a "grand trust speech" in this episode. I can think of a few scenes where there might have been an opportunity for one. In particular during the milkshake scene when he admits to saving her tapes. But they actually don't talk about trust in that scene. They talk about having hard conversations. They talk about moving forward instead of looking backwards. But they don't talk about trust. My guess is that there might have been content cut for time at some point in this episode, that may have included some grand declaration from Max, but that's really just speculation on my part.

Regardless…Liz's response to Max bringing up the science is to basically accuse him of not trusting her. Which is not what he was saying. He was not questioning her use of the science. He was questioning her trust in Heath through the context of her science. So he elaborates on what he IS saying, and as he does, he's getting more and more worked up...because this does relate directly to his personal fears, and, frankly, his buried trauma that he's never properly addressed.

"I trust you. Okay? But I don't trust some guy I have barely met with a secret that could endanger me, could endanger my family and break the frickin' Internet if it came out."

Max doesn't know Heath, and he doesn't trust Heath with a secret that could endanger Michael and Isobel. His emotions are escalating, because now he's thinking about the science that scares him in the hands of a guy that all signs points to being potentially untrustworthy, and he's triggered.

BUT he doesn't back up his argument. He doesn't point out the very specific evidence he's identified that Heath is probably lying to Liz.

And Liz is inherently reactive and sometimes overly defensive (see 1x09 list of Liz's flaws). So even though he's focused on Heath, she immediately reacts defensively and takes it as a criticism of HER.

"You think I would let myself be conned?"

"No, I think you came out here looking for a partner, and it could blind you."

*deep breath* and this is where it starts to get personal. And rough. Max isn't entirely wrong here. But he also kind of is. Liz didn't choose Genoryx for partnership. She was looking for resources, freedom to do the science she wanted to do, and to save her father from deportation.

But partnership? Yeah, Liz wanted that. But she wanted that from MAX. She was looking for partnership in life, not in science.

And now that Max has thrown that direct criticism out there, Liz is going to throw a bomb right back at him.

"Just because you sabotaged me when I thought you were mine does not mean that Heath would take the same path."

Ouch. This is the hardest line in this whole scene for me to work with. Because it is combative. And purposefully hurtful.

BUT…she is NOT TALKING ABOUT HER SCIENCE. She has not said a single word about her science in this argument. She moved past that. She had the epiphany that she was wrong and she apologized (3x03). That is in the past for her.

This argument, for Liz, is about betrayal. This is about her believing that they were going to be partners and move their lives forward together (2x12), and right when she believed in that future, Max made another massive decision that directly impacted her life (just like he did in 1x13) instead of working with her to make big decisions together.

"And just because you changed the wallpaper doesn't mean you've mended your blind spots."

I really hate this "change the wallpaper" line. It feels like they're mixing metaphors. Liz called her life a commercial. Max is saying that she's changed her decor. Like...pick one and stick with it.

That aside… I think this barb is about her arrogance. Earlier in the scene, she seemed baffled at the idea that Max believes she could have been conned by Heath, because Liz is used to always being the smartest person in the room. She thought she was smarter than Diego and he figured her out. She believed her lab was secure, but Diego (possibly) got in. Sometimes, like most scientists, Liz is so bogged down in the complicated, brilliant details she’s thinking through, that she misses simple things that contribute to the big picture. And I think that's what Max is getting at here. In her arrogance, she believes that she can control the Heath situation. But she's not acknowledging the human factor here - that Heath is a person who may have his own unspoken ulterior motives driving him. Just like Diego did. She's just not seeing what Max is seeing.

BUT - again I'll say. Max is also not communicating the scope of the evidence he is collecting. They're both wrong here.

"I have learned my lessons, but you... oh, my God, you sound an awful lot like the guy who blew up my lab. So forgive me, but you're making it perfectly clear why I felt like I had to go and change the wallpaper."

This is the only line where Liz even comes close to talking about her science, but again, she's talking about his betrayal. She's talking about him undermining their partnership. She's talking about her need for a change of scenery from HIM.

And that’s when Max blows out the safe and they put the fight on hold to finish their investigation.

But, to sum it up…the fight was all about trust and betrayal. It was necessary for them to work through it, though frankly? I wish they could have finished the discussion. Because instead of them coming to some sort of peace with their trust in each other, the truth came out about Heath, Liz realized that she was wrong, she apologized, and they moved forward together, on mission.

I can’t help pointing out though…after the fight and Liz's epiphany about Heath, Max and Liz spent at least 15 hours in a car together. And I'm sorry, I refuse to believe that they didn't talk about anything important for 15 hours. Fic writers assemble? 😆

Many thanks to @ober-affen-geil for doing a quick review and checking me on opinions vs facts. Very important.

And for my next trick… road trips, life choices, and Robert Frost! Coming soon to a Tumblr near you…

#rnm echo #rnm season 3 #roswell new mexico #max&liz #my meta #max evans #liz ortecho #rnm meta

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yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

difficult | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: fluff, mini angst, super cute, mutual pining

words: 3, 812

summary: you're difficult and yoongi just wants you

“I can’t believe it,” Jimin whistles. Taehyung mirrors his sentiment but with a look of disbelief.

“Me neither. But here we are.” Taehyung states matter-of-factly.

You were silent, not because you had nothing to say—but because you couldn’t believe it either. How did you allow yourself to fall into this trap? A trap you’ve spent your entire life training to avoid. And you would consider yourself someone that was dedicated to their craft and you truly were. But you were still susceptible to guilty pleasures and you just found your match.

“Why is no one stopping me? Why isn’t anyone telling me to get a grip of myself?” You cry.

Jimin looks at you sympathetically even if he knows that you hated being pitied. Taehyung at least avoids your gaze but the tell-tale signs of a frown appear on his face when you see the furrow of his brows.

“You know … you’re allowed to feel this way, right?” Jimin says carefully and you were more annoyed with the fact that he was walking on eggshells with you when you’ve long passed that stage of prudent navigation around each other. And you knew exactly why he sounded the way he did.

“I’m not. I’m supposed to be an impenetrable fortress that cannot be shaken by anything let alone anyone. I am an unyielding, resolute woman that refuses to be tied down by society’s narratives.” You say all at once.

Jimin and Taehyung blink at you. They expected this—but it still surprised them that you vocalised their thoughts.

Jimin clears his throat.

“Let me rephrase that,” He says sternly, “You’re allowed to feel, period.”

You shake your head because you’ve fallen too far—too hard. And you needed to get a grip of yourself because you didn’t work hard perfecting the flawless expression of bitchiness and temptation to be taken seriously amongst a Board of Directors filled with men. People like you couldn’t afford to feel.

Especially when the world never feels for you. For women.

“Do you hear yourself Jimin?” You exasperate as you throw your hands in the air in frustration.

“____—” Taehyung attempts to reason with you, but as always, you never let him get a word in. He knows you don’t mean any malice because you’ve built your walls so high that you think everyone is out to get you—but he just cares about you. He wishes you’d let him.

“No. You don’t understand guys. People like me? We—I—can’t afford to slack off. Not now and not anytime soon. I hear you guys and I wish I could understand where you’re coming from but frankly, I won’t ever be able to. You have the liberty of picking your battles because this world is yours. I had to fight my battles on my own to claim this world as my own and I’m nowhere near deserving of that role yet. I can’t feel.”

Their eyes soften at you and you avoid their gazes. You didn’t want their pity, and you didn’t want to sit in a tight office with their stares so heavy on your own.

“You deserve to be happy,” Taehyung says sadly.

You don’t respond, but you hear the chairs in front of your desk move against the hardwood floor. Then, you hear the opening and closing of your doors and you’re finally alone. Like how you do best.

You don’t allow another thought as insignificant as the one that threatens to overtake you to pass through your mind as you quickly tend to your pending projects.

The name of a certain man lingers very vaguely, though.

It annoys yet terrifies you how much you needed to consciously play your cards just right when you step into another board meeting. You thrived when you spoke at the podium, and no man—even the most bigoted—could deny that you were a born leader. But that didn’t mean that they liked that fact. In fact, most of them despised the idea that a woman as young as you was even allowed in the same room as they were. You wished you could yell at them, cry and shout until they understood that you were deserving.

You couldn’t, for very obvious reasons. But until you could—you needed to be smart.

“Mr Lee, with all due respect—liquifying the compartment company will not bring us the projected profit that you’ve pitched in the previous meeting.”

You’re level-headed and cool when you attempt to reason with the older and very stubborn man. He was old, and stubborn, which was never good news for you.

Mr Lee, the Chairman’s younger brother, simply scoffs at you, and you try your best not to let your eye twitch.

“What? Do you have a bachelor’s degree in business?” He sneers.

You blink.

“I have a double Masters in Business Administration and Finance.”

Mr Lee stiffens, and you briefly see Seokjin, the fellow nephew of Mr Kim, holding back his snorts at your declaration.

“I am qualified to be making this statement, and if you don’t believe in just words—which you really shouldn’t—here are the documents and projections from my end.” You distribute the analysis you took upon yourself to complete over the weekend and worked overtime to finish it as you handed it around the table.

Mr Kim, the Chairman, who was a far better man than everyone else in the Board of Directors, offers you an impressed smile as he flips through your booklet while you stand straight with your shoulders rolled back. A stance you often took to show that you knew your shit.

“This is very … meticulous. Great work as always, ___.” Mr Kim compliments you.

You don’t let it show on your face but you’re pleased with the way Mr Lee grumbles under his breath like a petulant child.

“Very well. We’ll keep the compartment company as it is,” Mr Kim declares and everyone else in the room shuffles to collect their belongings as the meeting comes to an end, “Meeting adjourned.”

“You’re absolutely badass,” Jin whistles at you as you walk side-by-side, your folders snug against your chest.

You hide your smile but acknowledge it regardless.

“And you were … there. As usual.”

He snorts and you know he gets where you’re coming from. Jin was simply present at the meeting but he wasn’t actually present. His heart had no place in the business world but instead in a world filled with fine dining and diverse cuisines as he worked up a storm in the kitchen. But as every father—who is the Chairman of a country’s largest exporter—he had pushed that dream onto Jin from a young age.

But Jin was Jin, and you knew Mr Kim simply kept him here for the sake of it; fully aware of his son’s aspirations and determination of becoming a chef.

“You should just take my position. You’re so good at business talk—I didn’t understand half the shit you were saying the entire time.” He says.

You shrug.

“I mean, that’s the goal. But let’s just see for now,” You hum as you reach your office, and you still when you see the person waiting for you inside.

Jin takes a peek over your shoulder and spots the same person who has you looking so tense. He whistles at you as he stuffs his right hand in his pocket while offering you a consoling pat on your shoulder with his left before he stalks off.

“Good luck!” He calls out, and you internally groan at the oncoming interaction.

You brace yourself and put on a brave face as you step into your office, doors clicking, signalling your guest to turn around at the insinuation of your presence.

“Mr Min, what can I help you with?” You don’t look at him when you place your belongings on your table and you nearly miss his scoff with the way you attempt to busy yourself with any mindless activity that you can find on your desk.

“Mr Min? Not Yoongi anymore?”

You ignore his bitter tone and look at him with a reserved stare, raising an eyebrow as if to question his statement.

“Are we not co-workers?” You reply coolly and he scoffs much louder for you to hear.

“Co-workers … yeah,” He shrugs, leaning forward, “Do you usually kiss your co-workers?”

You are still at the sudden declaration and nearly drop the pen that was in your grip. He’s suddenly inches closer to you despite the relative distance of your desk between the both of you. You try to ignore the heat of his body, but it’s entirely too suffocating for you to pretend like he isn’t there.

“Don’t give me that nonsense,” You wave him off and you steady your voice because you weren’t ready for him to see you break. You allowed yourself too much space to be vulnerable and you needed to stop.

He sits back into the chair and folds his arms across his chest with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, this is not what we’re going to do.” He says, suddenly much firmer than he was a moment ago.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, clearly confused.

“None of this detached, emotionless attitude with me. I see through this facade and it’s not cute. You’re going to speak to me like an adult and address the very obvious feelings you have for me, and likewise. You’re not allowed to deflect like you always do because I expect you to be honest with me because you’re clearly not being honest to yourself.”

You blink up at him and your heart starts beating more rapidly within your chest as it betrays your stoic appearance.

Maybe that was why you fell for Yoongi in the first place. He didn’t tolerate you. Specifically, the shit that you pull on him. You were well aware you were a stubborn, hard-headed bitch that could be emotionally reserved 99% of the time when you interacted with others. And sometimes your bitchiness was uncalled for, but most people were too terrified to say anything about it to your face.

Yoongi?

He had no problems letting you know what he expected from you and how he thought of you from the beginning. It should’ve irked you. Based on your strict line of principles that you upheld—a man projecting his own thoughts of you that he had in his head, directly to you, should’ve been dehumanising, disrespectful even. But you never got that from Yoongi. He was brutally honest. And you appreciate honesty.

But sometimes it made you squirm.

“I … sorry, what? Are you insane? I don’t have feelings for you.” You narrow your eyes at him and hope you sound convincing enough.

But you knew Yoongi well enough to know that he saw through your blatant lie.

“I said: don’t deflect. You’re deflecting.” He scolds.

“You’re being unnecessarily distasteful right now,” You roll your eyes.

“Am I? Or am I just telling you the truth that you’ve been trying to deny for the past week that you’ve been cowardly avoiding me?” He’s calm when he makes the accusation. And it wasn’t even an accusation because it was the plain truth.

You burn, both in anger and in humiliation.

“What do you know about me Yoongi? Aren’t I just the company’s hot-headed bitch?” You snap, remembering the first words you heard from Yoongi.

“You are a hot-headed bitch, and I know you’re scared of admitting that you have feelings for me because you think feeling makes you weak.”

You ignore the fact that he admitted that you were a bitch, but Yoongi wasn’t the type to lie, nor was he the type to kiss ass. And you hated that he was still brutally honest, even when speaking about a topic so … intimate.

“Look, I don’t know where you’re getting this information from but you need to leave.” You stand up to walk towards the door so you could open it for him but he grabs your wrist before you make it there.

He turns you around to look at him. Properly look at him, that is. You’ve been avoiding direct eye contact with him because as good of a front you’ve worked on to put in front of him, you were human. And as a human, you were bound to have a weakness.

“You don’t get to walk away from me—this conversation—because you hate confrontation,” He frowns at you and you turn away to avoid his heavy gaze.

“Yoongi, can we not do this?” You sigh.

He chuckles dryly, using his right hand to nudge your face to look at him. It should’ve been demeaning, but you felt nothing like you were disrespected. You hated to admit it but you liked it. You liked it a lot more than you’d admit to anyone.

“No. We’re doing this. You’re going to address your feelings for me and actually work for what you want—and that’s clearly this,” He gestures between the two of you and you glare up at him.

“I told you! I don’t have any feelings for you.” You snarl at him, teeth bared like an animal but he just laughs at you like you were pathetic. You hated how small you felt in his presence but yet you were still whole.

“You don’t kiss a person you don’t have feelings for—you don’t hold someone you don’t have feelings for like they’re your safe space. You don’t have feelings for me? That’s funny because you did all of those things and you’ve never once complained when I reciprocated.”

You fumble with your words as the tip of your ears burn a bright red, which Yoongi easily catches.

“You don’t turn into a tomato if I was lying to you. You’re not like that, right? You’re self-assured. Ms-I’m-An-Impenetrable-Fortress,” He mocks.

“S-Stop acting as if you know me, Yoongi. You don’t and you never will.” You struggle against his grip on your wrist but he simply tugs you closer until your faces are inches apart.

“I don’t?” He scoffs, “Then tell me, why do I know that you confide Jimin and Taehyung for advice but never take it anyway because you’re too damn stubborn?”

You were about to retort but he’s quicker with his response.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you walk with your head held high into meetings but exit with your tail tucked between your legs because you’re afraid of sounding too dumb, too incompetent?”

You freeze.

“Then tell me, why do I know that you pull away from people not because you’re repulsed by them but because you’re afraid of forming actual bonds in the fear of being abandoned?”

You internally curse when you fear your eyes burning, and the lump in your throat becoming too much to bear.

“Then tell me, ___, why do I know you feel the same way about me but you’re too scared of looking dependent to do anything about it?” He whispers the last part when he pulls you tight against his chest.

You don’t fight him anymore, and you relax into the firm expanse of his chest and it terrifies you that it feels so much like home. A warm space you find comfort in.

You don’t even realise the first tear escapes your eyes until you feel Yoongi’s dress shirt turn slightly damp under the skin of your cheek. You’re mortified when you realise you’re crying and you attempt to pull away but his hands find their way around your waist to hold you tight.

“Don’t,” He whispers, “Don’t pull away from me.”

“Yoongi … I-I can’t,” You stutter, voice shaky.

He wipes a thumb on your cheek to wipe away the continuous stream of tears that you don’t bother hiding from him anymore.

“I worked my ass off to be taken seriously here and—and … if I get a boyfriend they’re going to think that I’m reliant, I’m weak, dependent on a man.” You ramble, but he just listens to your nonsensical statement as he rubs soothing circles on your head.

“I want you to rely on me, to depend on me. Stop thinking that you need to fight your battles alone. I’m here—I’ll be here. I’ve always been here but you need to let me be there for you.” He says softly.

You peer up at him with swollen eyes and he thinks you look beautiful. You always were beautiful. When you were commanding a meeting; when you were focused when you were angry; when you were laughing, and when you were sad. He was in for all of it.

“But ... the Board of Directors—”

He shushes you with a light kiss to the corner of your lip and you feel your stale heart flutter.

“I’m not here to be your saviour. I’m here to be your equal. I want to help you as much as you’ll help me. And believe me when I say you’ve helped me. The Board of Directors? Relationship or no relationship, they’ll be the same bigots that unfortunately dictate the policies in this company. The only person that has the ability to change anything in this situation is you ___.”

You feel your resolve breaking but you should’ve known that you’ve never had any resolve when it came to Yoongi. You were always weak around him. And maybe you needed to start accepting the fact that you were allowed to feel weak, to feel dependent on someone.

“What if you leave me.” You whine.

He snorts before rubbing a thumb between your furrowed brows.

“Then I leave. But we don’t know what’s going to happen if we don’t try,” He says and you realise how close he’s gotten to you to the point you feel his breath on your lips.

“That’s not comforting to hear the slightest,” You complain.

“And nothing about a relationship is easy. But I’m willing to be with you. I’ve always been ready—it’s you that needs to make the decision, ___.”

You finally lock eyes with him and you see nothing but sincerity. Yoongi could be crass, and often mistaken as a dick. But he was just honourable. He wouldn’t lie to anyone or sugarcoat the difficult truth. In fact, he never made you feel inferior to him even when he was straightforward. He never treated you differently because you were terrifying—but he treated you how he would with anyone else. And that was comforting. While everyone else walked on eggshells with you, he was fearless with his declarations.

Even now.

“I like you. I have no qualms in admitting it. And I’ll say it over and over again until you believe me,”

You don’t reply but kiss him. And there are no explosive fireworks, and time still flows—but it feels familiar. It feels like a territory that you’ve known all along, a little rough around the edges with the time spent away, but a place you can allude to comfort.

He responds by licking into the seam of your mouth as you allow his tongue to lick behind your teeth, a small whine caught in the back of your throat as you card your fingers through his hair. The hands-on your waist presses you tighter, flush against his body.

He pulls away first, resting his forehead on your own.

“I need to hear you say it. None of this tip-toeing anymore.”

You offer him a small smile.

“I-I …”

He watches you stutter with a hooded gaze but nothing about his stare makes you feel pressured. It was more comforting than anything, and the way he still held onto you like you mattered—but weren’t fragile—allowed you some semblance of peace in retaining your identity. This arbitrary idea of what you thought you were and how people perceived you. It was difficult to unlearn an idea that felt very personal to you after years of mastering its art.

You’re still unsure of how to react but you’re so sure of how you feel.

“I like you. I-I want to try.” You wail.

He’s alarmed by the sudden change in tone from your end and at the way you tug at the collars of his shirt. Not aggressively, but a little desperate. Not in the way that’d make him scrunch his nose in distaste but in a way that told him that this was you being vulnerable. Being open.

He wipes at your cheeks with dried tears and looks at you so honestly that it scares you. But in a way, you were fearless because you were terrified of everything. Mostly of disappointing others who held you to such a high standard, but it was a valid fear regardless.

“I’m not some fragile woman that you need to fix and I want you to understand that,” You pull yourself together and tell him sternly. He listens because Yoongi has never been presumptuous.

“I’m my own person and I won’t change the way I act to be with you—and if you’re looking for a cute … dainty, soft girlfriend then…” You whisper, “That’s not me. I’m tough. I’m a bitch and I’m stubborn. Our arguments are going to suck because I have a response for literally everything so—!”

He shushes your rambling with a finger to your lips and a raised eyebrow. You pout at him under his finger and he finds you adorable. He decides to not say anything to preserve his head—but soon. He’ll tell you soon.

“Are you done?”

You huff under his finger but he looks at you fondly.

“I’m not one for normality. I don’t care about what you think I’m into because I know that I’m into you. I’m in this, ___. Stop thinking that I deserve some idealistic image of a woman that you have in your head. I want you, and I thought me coming here to speak to you about your feelings was a clear testament to that.”

You try to hide your blush but you fail.

“And stop being so conscious of how you act around me. Be tough. Be independent. But don’t be afraid to be cute and vulnerable too, okay? I like you in all ways that you decide to present yourself in. Just … trust me. Trust this.”

“Okay.” You nod.

He grins at you.

“Does that mean I can hold your hand on the way to work?” He teases.

You avoid his eyes and look to the side, but the slight curve of your lip gives your answer to that question away.

“I guess …” You mutter.

He hugs you closer and squeezes you until your feet leave the ground. He tackles you with kisses all over your face and you can’t help but giggle. You feel happy. You feel secure.

“Cutie.”

You deliver a smack to his chest but he just laughs.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi x reader

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laventae · 4 years ago

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Haikyuu boys - Pretending to be your boyfriend

Akaashi Keiji

Summary: Oneshot stories of random situations where the boys pretend to be your boyfriends, but y’all also kinda like each other?

Pairings: Akaashi Keiji x Gn!reader (I tried my best to make it gn, if there are any mistakes though, please let me know)

Genre: Fluff?

Word count: 6.4k words

Warnings: Mild cursing

Becoming close friends with Bokuto when you got into Fukurōdani Academy a year ago was probably one of the best accidents that happened to you since you moved into town. Because you weren't very extroverted and had a hard time making friends whenever you got into a new school or was put in a social situation, you thought moving to Fukurōdani meant that you'd become an outcast once again. That, however, totally changed when you were assigned a seat next to Bokuto in class on your first day. And ever since then, you've been as close as ever. You can also definitely say that, because of him, it was much easier and much more comfortable for you to put yourself out there and be able to make friends and get along with many different people. You couldn't even express the amount of appreciation you felt towards him for helping you through it all. But, its moments like these that you just question if you should feel thankful or just straight up want to kill him. Your right leg shakes as you anxiously wait for the bell of your last class to ring. ‘Just a few more minutes’ you think to yourself. And surely, a couple of minutes later, the bell rings. You hurriedly grab your things and wave goodbye to your friends as you leave class. "Really? Nothing??" You exclaim as you look at your phone to see if Bokuto replied to any of your messages or calls. "Fine then" you say as you head to the gym, where you know he definitely would be.

-~-~-

You open the gym door slowly, and try to look for Bokuto. Your eyes scan the gym for any signs of him and then you spot him standing and talking to some of the guys from the volleyball team. ‘Gotcha’ you think as you make your way to him. You greet some of the guys on the team as you pass through the gym court to get to Bokuto. "Hey Bo!" you loudly call on him as you cross your arms while facing his back.

You see him stiffen and start turning around slowly, the boys laughing and wishing him luck. They probably know he’s done some shit again this time, and frankly, they're not surprised.

“Oh hey, y/n,” he scratches the back of his head nervously, “what brings you here?” he asks innocently.

“Oh, just missing you,” you answer. You see his shoulders relax and take another step towards him, “and wondering why you haven't been answering my texts or calls”

He puts on an innocent smile on his face and reaches for your head, ruffling your hair and trying to hug you “Oh, you're missing me? You’re missing your daily dose of Bokuto to re-energize your-” you swat his hand away before he finishes his sentence.

“Stop trying to act cute,” you say as you start fixing your hair, “explain”

“Oh, my bad, did you text me? I was just busy with practice and all, didn’t have time to check my phone.”

“Since yesterday?” you ask, unamused.

“Yesterday? Hmmm...” he pretends to start thinking about the last time he checked his phone.

“Quit it, I know you’ve been avoiding me and haven't started working on your part of our history project”

He gives you puppy dog eyes and reaches for your arm in a way where you know he means “can you help me with it?”

“It’s due in 3 days, you know that, right?” you ask, unamused, yet again.

His round, golden eyes don’t waver as he silently begs you to give in.

‘Goddammit, why does he have to be so cute’

You sigh, “fine”

He immediately gets excited and raises his fists in the air as if he won a game.

“But just this once, idiot” you say, and you can’t help but smile at how excited he gets.

“You say that every time, you know” you hear Konoha say teasingly and you send him a glare.

He quickly raises his arms as if to say “sorry” and you laugh.

You turn your attention to Bokuto again, “Today, after practice, I'll be waiting for you at our usual café, do you understand?”

“Sure, sure,” he says as he drags you to the court, “now toss me a ball, let me show you how much better my spike has gotten!” he exclaims excitedly and you can't help but give in, yet again.

A couple of minutes after you start tossing balls for Bokuto to spike, you feel someone staring at you. You turn around and notice it was Akaashi, but he looks away as soon as you notice him and continues chatting with another team member.

You grab another ball to toss Bokuto, “You know, I still don’t think Akaashi necessarily likes me” you quietly tell him.

He looks at you confused, “Here we go again, why do you think that?” he asks as he spikes another ball you threw his way.

“I don’t know, I always feel like he’s glaring at me when I look at him” you say slightly disappointed, “do you think I accidently did something wrong to annoy him?”

Somehow, you always found it hard to talk to him or get close to him. And it wasn’t a surprise since you weren’t the most extroverted person, but you were still able to get along with most people, just, not really, him.

“Hey, I'm sure that it’s just all in your head, he doesn’t hate you” Bokuto says as he waits for you to toss him another ball.

“It’s just so hard to read him, I can never know what he’s thinking”

“Then just ask him”

“It’s not that easy, you know”

“Why would it not be easy? What? Do you like him or something?” Bokuto says teasingly.

Skip

Your heart skips a beat.

‘What? Me liking him? That’s ridiculous’

I mean he’s very attractive, don’t get me wrong. He has the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. And your eyes can't help but follow him when watching the team play during matches. He always looks focused and serious and h-

‘What am I even thinking right now?’ you curse yourself in your head and turn to answer Bokuto but find him with a surprised look on his face.

“Wait! DO YOU ACTUALLY LIKE-” Bokuto yells before you put your hand on his mouth to stop him from finishing his sentence.

“OH MY GOD, NO!” you whisper yell before you turn around, and once again you see Akaashi turn his head away.

“No, stop being a weirdo” you tell Bokuto again as you remove your hand from over his mouth, hoping nobody heard what you guys were yelling about.

He eyes you suspiciously for a few seconds before asking you to toss him another ball.

“Well anyways, I don’t want my two best friends to be awkward around each other, so you guys better start getting along” he says as he spikes another ball.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you sigh, relieved that Bokuto isn't pressing on the matter any further.

‘Wait, why are you even relieved, it's not like you actually like him’ you think and unintentionally laugh out loud.

“Hey weirdo, stop laughing and keep tossing the ball”

You spend a few more minutes tossing the ball for Bokuto before leaving to get your stuff ready to meet him at your usual café nearby.

-~-~-

You check your phone as soon as you get in the café.

1 NEW MESSAGE FROM ‘Baka-to’: “Sorry! With coach! Be there in 15 mins!”

You sigh.

“Didn’t expect much from the king of tardiness,” you say to yourself quietly as you chuckle and find a seat for the both of you.

You sit at your usual booth and start taking out your laptop and other books you need to help with the project.

You hear the café bell jingle and you look up instinctively to see who came in.

‘Fuck’ you think as you look away and try to hide yourself when you notice your ex walk in with some of his friends.

You try to hide behind your laptop, “he didn’t see me, he didn’t see me” you quietly tell yourself but hear him excusing himself from his friends, “he didn’t see me...”

You feel someone towering over you and you look up from your laptop.

“Hey y/n”

‘Goddammit... not now’

“Hey Azami” you reply as you put on a fake smile.

“What're you doing here?” he asks as he rudely takes a seat in front of you.

“What do you want, Azami?” you say getting frustrated and ignoring his question.

“Ouch,” he says pretending to be fake hurt and laughs. When he notices that you haven't even cracked a smile, he continues, “you haven't been answering my calls or texts”

“Well, we did break up months ago, and I told you not to contact me anymore, so I don’t know what you were expecting” you answer annoyed and check your phone to see if Bokuto sent you anymore messages about when he was getting there.

“I already apologized for what I did, y/n,” he starts, “it didn’t mean anything, I swe-”

You cut him off, “okay, I don’t have time for this,” you say getting fed up already, and you get up and start packing your stuff.

He grabs your wrist, “Wait, let me expl-”

“Don’t touch me!” you exclaim as you cut him off again and try to get him to let go of your wrist.

“You’re not even listening to me, I-” he is cut off once again, but this time it wasn’t you.

Someone grabs his wrist and snatches it off yours.

You look up and notice Akaashi standing next to you, “Is there a problem here?” he asks in a serious tone. Even with his unreadable face, this time you can feel how serious and annoyed he looked.

‘What is he doing here now’ you think, feeling embarrassed that he caught you in this awkward situation.

Out of any situation you could've been in, this is how you guys accidentally run into each other. Figures.

Azami quietly chuckles, visibly annoyed, “I’m just tryna talk to y/n, so,” he glares at Akaashi, but keeps an innocent smile on his face. He then looks back at you and before he says anything he gets cut off, once again.

“Well, it seems like y/n doesn’t want to talk to you right now, so,” Akaashi replies back.

“What’re you? The boyfriend or something?” he says seemingly getting more annoyed.

“Yes” you reply without thinking and curse yourself in your head.

You just wanted Azami to leave quickly and you didn’t think about it when you answered.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid, why would you even say yes’

You feel Akaashi stiffen and both of them snap their heads at you.

You look at Akaashi apologetically and turn to face Azami, “So just leave us alone, will you?” you try to confidently say, and hope Azami hasn’t noticed the confused look on Akaashi’s face.

Azami just stares between the both of you for a few moments before he sighs in frustration, “Listen, I just wanted to talk to you and apologize again, about everything, so answer my calls sometime, alright?” he says as he turns around and goes back to his friends before you get the chance to reject his request.

As soon as he leaves, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

‘At least he’s gone, for now’ you sigh to yourself.

“Oh,” your head snaps to Akaashi, and notice him still looking at you, “I’m really sorry about that” you tell him embarrassed and look down.

“It’s fine” he sighs and takes the seat opposite of yours.

You look at him confused before you sit down again, placing your bag back down next to you, “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Bokuto told me you wanted to meet us here” he says casually and starts looking over the menu in front of him.

“Me?” you ask, even more confused, and he just looks up at you.

‘Fuck, he has such pretty eyes’ you think to yourself.

‘Wait what am I even thinking right now’ you curse yourself again and look away, feeling your face turn a bit red.

“Was I not invited?” you hear him ask, disrupting you from your thoughts.

“No, it's not that-!” you answer quickly.

“I’ll go order something then, you want anything?” Akaashi says as he gets up.

You feel a pair of eyes staring at you. You turn and find Azami glaring at the both of you. He doesn’t even turn away when you notice, and just smirks.

“I’ll come with,” you tell Akaashi as you get up as well.

He just nods and you head to the counter.

You tell the barista your order and then Akaashi starts ordering.

You can’t help but feel eyes on you again and you turn to Azami.

But this time Akaashi steps back and blocks your line of sight and you look up at him.

“You know, if you want him to stop looking, you should stop as well” he says as he looks at you with his piercing blue eyes.

You feel yourself slightly blush under his gaze and look away as soon as you notice how close your faces were.

“Yeah, you’re right...” you answer quietly and try to look at him from the corner of your eye. You notice him smirking.

After your orders were paid for and done, you grab your drinks and walk back to your booth.

It gets quiet, except for the occasional sips you both take from your drinks.

You awkwardly shift in your seat and feel the need to break the silence.

“Thanks, by the way,” you start and he looks up from his drink, “for you know, helping me out, and not saying anything about not being my actual boyfriend”

“It’s nothing,” he says casually as he looks out the window next to your booth, and you can't help but notice a small blush appearing on his cheek.

‘What... what even kind of expression is that? He looks so fucking cute? I didn’t even know he can make that kind of expressi-’

“Hey kids!” you hear someone say as they run over to you, dragging you back to reality, and making you choke on your drink as you notice what you were even thinking about.

Both you and Akaashi notice it’s Bokuto when he gets to your table, then he pushes you to the inside booth seat.

“How are my best friends getting along with each other?” he asks you excitedly.

‘Ah, so that was his lame plan of getting us to get along better?’ you shake your head at him.

“Hey Bo, I thought we have a history project to finish here” you glare at him and he smiles innocently.

“I thought Akaashi could help us as well, considering we have so little time” Bokuto tells you, getting even more excited for some reason.

‘Ah... if only he knew he actually put Akaashi and I in an even more awkward situation than we were in before’

“Uhm... I’m actually pretty bad at history...” Akaashi quietly mentions as he looks at you and awkwardly scratches the back of his head.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute he looked right then.

Both of them look at you confused.

“Anyways, we should start, shouldn’t we?” You ask Bokuto and he just sadly sighs.

-~-~-

A couple of hours pass by as you try to finish the project but you were all sharing laughs and jokes in between, which would explain why it was definitely taking more time than is needed for it to be done.

But honestly, it was the first time you felt like you and Akaashi were getting along easily, so even though you were annoyed with Bokuto inviting him without telling you, you were still grateful it gave you both a chance to get to know each other better, or just enjoy each other's company.

It wasn’t much, it wasn’t like all of a sudden, you became besties, but it was definitely better than before, when you both could barely keep a conversation going.

It was mostly the both of you sharing funny and embarrassing situations you’ve been through with Bokuto, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. And honestly being able to get a laugh or two from Akaashi, definitely made it worth it.

‘No wait, why did I even think that’

“Excuse me guys, I'll just head to the restroom for a bit” you say as you look at Bokuto, motioning him to let you out of the booth.

“Nooo... don’t leaveee! The story’s just about to get better!” he whines as you push him off his seat to leave the booth.

“I'm literally coming back,” you shake your head and look at Akaashi, “Keep him in check while I'm away, yeah?”

Akaashi just chuckles and nods while Bokuto pouts at you.

“Come backk!” you hear Bokuto jokingly cry as you head to the restroom area and you shake your head at him.

You pass through the café to a hallway where the restrooms are located and feel someone grab your wrist, “Bo, I literally told you I'm gonna go ba-” you turn around and notice your ex standing there instead.

You instantly stiffen and push his hand off your wrist.

“Stop touching me” you snap at him.

He looks down, “I'm sorry, y/n, I just honestly want you to know that whatever you saw happen with that girl at the party, wasn’t my fault. She pushed herself on me! I promise!” he desperately pleads.

As bad as you wanted to feel pity for him, you couldn’t. “That doesn’t explain the texts, DMs, and everything else you did while we were still together. We both know that probably wasn’t the first time you did it. It was just the first time you got caught.”

He looked up at you, speechless for a moment, “But I've changed now, it’s different” he says as he slowly tries to reach for your hand once again.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hear someone say sternly, then you notice Akaashi walking up behind Azami and puts a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from grabbing your hand again.

“Babe, you should go ahead” Akaashi says as he nods to the restroom area.

Skip

You nod, and Akaashi just shoots you a soft smile before Azami pushes Akaashi's hand off his shoulder. You turn around and slowly run to the restrooms.

You wash your face.

Once.

Twice.

‘Babe?’

‘Did he really just say babe?’

‘And why did your heart skip a beat again when he did??’

You wash your face again and look up at the mirror above the sink.

‘And why the hell are you getting flustered like this?’

You chuckle at yourself.

“This is ridiculous,” you sigh to yourself as you turn off the tap, “you don’t actually like him, do you?” you ask yourself as you look at the mirror again.

I mean that might explain why you found it hard to talk to him at school, or trying to keep the conversation going when you did. Maybe it wasn’t him that was the problem, it was... you?

“I’m just overthinking this,” you sigh to yourself again.

You grab a paper towel and dry your face off.

“Okay,” you clear your throat as you reach for the door handle, “don't overthink things, you're barely even friends as is” you whisper to yourself as you open the door.

You notice Akaashi leaning against the wall in the hallway where you left him and Azami earlier. He looks like he’s intently thinking about something.

‘Pretty...’

Skip

You clear your throat as you close the door behind you, which looks like it also snapped his attention back to you and you notice him smile softly.

‘Don’t smile at me like that...’

“Were you waiting for something?” you ask him as you slowly walk to him.

“Yeah, you” he says as he straightens up and turns back to head to the café.

Skip

-~-~-

It was starting to get late, and you and Bokuto were almost done with the history project at that point, after hours of half working and half messing around with each other and Akaashi.

Even though at the beginning, you were iffy and kind of annoyed with Bokuto for sneakily inviting Akaashi without telling you, you couldn’t help but feel thankful for him because it turned out to be a fun hangout.

Even though your ex was there, and usually, even the thought of him would sour your mood, if not your whole day, this time you actually felt somewhat safe? You knew that Akaashi was definitely the reason for that, even with the occasional feeling of stares you felt, it didn’t really bother you as much.

Though this hangout made you also realize you might have a thing for Akaashi, you tried to push that thought away every time your thoughts wandered.

I mean you guys were finally getting along, and you didn’t want to jeopardize this blooming friendship between you guys for something stupid, like your heart skipping a beat every time he would look at you and smile, or the way he laughed, or the accidental touches you would have when he would point out something on your laptop screen.

That would just be stupid.

“Alright Bo, all you have left is to add the citations at the end of the report. I saved all the sites and documents we used here” you tell him as you point on the screen.

“Y/n, you literally are a life-saver!” Bokuto exclaims as he jumps on you for a hug.

Your eyes accidentally land on Akaashi and you notice him looking annoyed as he looks at Bokuto. Your eyes meet and he looks away.

‘I’m just making this up in my head at this point, right?’

“Alright, alright, Bo! Get off!” you chuckle as you push him off you, “Just please promise me you'll finish your part in our final project on time”

“No promises” you hear Bokuto quietly say.

“HEY!” you laugh as you hit him on the back of his head.

“I’m joking, don’t hate me~” he laughs as he links his arm with yours.

“Stop trying to be cute” you say, pretending to be annoyed with him.

“Yeah, stop that” Akaashi says seriously as he continues to look away and take a sip from his drink.

‘Is he actually pouting right now?’

“Why are you pouting right now?” Bokuto asks Akaashi, as if he heard my thoughts.

“I’m not” Akaashi says finally looking up.

Bokuto just shrugs it off, but doesn’t notice the slight blush on Akaashi’s cheeks.

“Anyways,” Bokuto checks his watch, and his eyes go wide, “Oh my god, its 11pm already, I have early practice tomorrow!”

“We’re done anyways, so you can go” you tell him.

“But... I won't be able to walk you to your dorm...” Bokuto says as he pouts.

“Hey its fine, it isn't far anyways, I can walk back alone-”

“I’ll walk you back,” Akaashi interjects out of nowhere.

Me and Bokuto both look at him.

“No, it’s fine, I can-” you try to reply but get cut off again

“Right, you both live in the same student dorm accommodation, don’t you?” Bokuto says as he suddenly remembers.

‘Do we?’

You don’t think you've ever seen him go there, though they usually do finish volleyball practice late so, that might be the case.

“Yeah, we do” Akaashi replies casually.

“That’s perfect, thanks Akaashi, look after y/n for me, would you?” Bokuto says and Akaashi nods as a reply.

“Guys, seriously, I'm ok-”

“Alright, I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Bokuto says as he gets up and hurriedly grabs his things, “and y/n, send me the project with the links so I can finish it off later, alright?”

I nod and he excitedly runs for the door before he waves us a final goodbye.

You sigh as you check the time on your phone, “time passed by really fast, huh?” you say to yourself but you hear Akaashi agree with you.

I guess time really does go fast when you're having fun, and honestly, you really didn’t want the night to end yet.

You turn to Akaashi as you get up and start packing your things.

“How did you know we live in the same dorm accommodation? I don’t remember ever seeing you go there” you ask him curiously.

“Bokuto mentioned you stay there a couple of times,” he continued, “and I usually go there late, around this time maybe? When I'm done with practice or schoolwork”

Ah... just as you thought...

“You really don’t have to walk me back, by the way, it’s fine” you say. Though that’s not true, you were kind of happy he offered.

You cursed that thought.

“We are going the same way anyway, wouldn’t hurt to make sure you get home safe while I'm at it” he says as he smiles at you.

Skip

‘Get that sweet smile off your face right now’

“Thanks,” you say as you look away flustered.

You hear him chuckle.

‘Is he purposely teasing me right now?’

“Why are you laughing?” you eye him curiously.

“You just look cute, when you get all flustered” he says smiling as he grabs the rest of your books from the table.

“I'm- I'm not flustered!” you say, quite flustered.

He chuckles even louder this time.

“Whatever” you say quietly, as you look away from him, pouting.

“Ready to go?” Akaashi asks when you grab everything.

You nod and try to take your books from him.

He just moves back, and takes the bag you were holding instead and throws it over his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he says as he starts walking to the door.

You try to catch up with him, feeling confused.

He opens the door and motions you to leave first, as he smiles.

You walk out the door and he follows you right after.

You keep following him with a confused look on your face and he nods towards the café, where you find your ex staring at you both.

“Oh... I didn’t even notice he was still there” you say quietly.

“I guess that’s a good thing, right?” Akaashi smiles at you, and you both start walking to your student dorm accommodation.

When you’re finally out of your ex’s sight, you reach for your bag again.

Akaashi doesn’t let go of it, however.

“It’s fine, he can't see us anymore” you tell him.

“I’m sure you’re tired, I don’t mind holding your things” he replies casually.

Skip

‘Ahh... stop being so nice to me, I can’t handle it’

“It feels like I’m taking advantage of you now” you reply sadly.

He just chuckles, “I want to do it, you're not forcing me”

You sigh.

“I wanna apologize,” you start and Akaashi just looks at you, “and thank you again for helping me out today”

“It’s no big deal,” he looks back straight ahead “I'm glad I could help”

You walk for a few minutes in comfortable silence, when Akaashi speaks up again.

“I accidently overheard you guys,” he looks at you again and you look at him confused, “in the hallway, when you talked about what happened between the both of you”

“Oh...” you sigh as you look back on the street ahead of you.

“Hey, you did nothing wrong you know,” he continues, “actually, I find it quite attractive that you stood your ground and didn’t stay, or fall for his sorry bullshit”

Skip

‘Not right now, stupid heart’

“Thanks,” you say trying to sound calm but you can feel your heart beating fast.

‘Did he just say he found me attractive? No wait, he said he found the action attractive... but I mean, if you think about it, it was me who did the action so-’

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt Akaashi gently grab your hand to stop you.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks worriedly, “I’m sorry if I brought up something you didn’t wanna talk about, I don’t even know why I mentioned it, I was-”

“No, it's fine,” you interrupt his rambling, it wasn’t like it was his fault your ex was there. If anything, he helped you get your mind off of it all. “I was just thinking about something else” you say as you look down and notice his hand was still holding yours.

Skip

‘oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’

He lets go of your hand as soon as he notices you staring at it, “sorry,” you hear him mumble as he starts walking again.

‘What are you 5? SNAP OUT OF IT’

You run to catch up to him and notice a small blush on his cheeks even though he was trying to look away from you, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why are you laughing?” he says as he looks at you.

“You just look cute, when you get all flustered” you say, quoting his line.

“Hey, you can't use my line against me” he pouts, and you couldn’t help but chuckle again, and he joins in seconds later.

After about ten minutes of walking, and small talk, you get to your dorm building.

‘Dammit... I wish it were further’

“So,” you sigh as you stop and turn around in front of Akaashi, “this is me, I guess.”

‘Stop me, stop me, I know it’s late but stop me...’

“Right,” he says and you notice him hesitate.

You mentally sigh.

“Yeah, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow” you smile and he nods.

You turn around and start walking to the building.

“Wait!” you hear Akaashi call out.

‘Yes!’

You turn around excitedly and notice Akaashi taking off your bag to hand it to you with your books.

‘Wow, I'm a fucking idiot’

“Right, I forgot,” you say and chuckle nervously. He smiles as he hands you your things.

You shove the books in your bag, and throw it over your shoulder, slightly disappointed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage to smile then turn around, embarrassed and try to rush to get inside the building.

You then feel him grab your hand and gently pull you back, “Wait,” he says again, before you accidentally bump into each other in the process of him turning you around to face him.

“Sorry,” he quickly says and pulls you into his chest before you start to fall back from the force of the both of you bumping into each other.

Skip

He takes a step back, “You okay? Sorry if I pulled you too hard” he asks you worriedly as he stares into your eyes.

‘I told you not to look at me like that...’

“It’s okay, I’m fine” you say as you quickly look down, flustered, and notice him, for the second time that evening, holding your hand.

‘It’s so warm, I don’t wanna let go...’ you think before your thoughts are interrupted with him trying to let go of your hand as soon as he probably noticed you staring at it again.

“Sor-” he starts before you boldly grab hold of his hand again, not allowing him to let go.

‘Why... why did I just do that??’

You feel your face heating up, but you don’t feel him letting go. You slowly try to look up at him and notice his face turned away.

‘Is his face red right now as well?’

It was too dark to fully tell but you were sure there was a tinge of red on his cheeks.

Skip

You didn’t want to let go but you were too embarrassed, and you weren't even sure if he felt anything or was just standing there shocked or flustered.

“Uhm, my bad...” you say flustered, and try to let go of his hand this time.

“Fuck it,” you hear him whisper to himself, but it was still audible to you. Probably because it was so late and nobody can be seen or heard outside, in that moment everything was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

He interlocked his hand with yours before you had the chance to let go and pulled you to his chest again.

You look up at him, shocked, and you were met with his piercing blue eyes yet again.

Skip

‘So close... So pre-’

“Pretty” you hear him whisper, as if he was completing your thought.

‘Wait, is he talking about me?’

You feel your face heat up again, and your heart beat like crazy, not that it died down since the last few minutes.

You see him smile softly, “you’re getting all flustered again” he says with a smirk on his face.

“Are you teasing me again?” you say looking away as you try to push him back but he pulls you back again.

“No,” he chuckles and you can feel his free hand touching the red of your cheeks, “It’s cute”

Skip Skip Skip Skip

You meet his piercing gaze again with a look of bemusement on your face. And this time you can see it much clearer, the redness of his cheeks as well.

‘What’s happening right now, there’s no way he...’

You feel his hand cupping your face before you get to finish that thought.

“You can tell me to stop, if you don’t like this,” he says, staring at your lips, as he slowly starts leaning down.

Skip Skip Skip Skip

He stops right before your lips meet; and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

He looks back at your eyes for a moment, and when he doesn’t see any hesitation coming from you, he closes the space between your lips.

You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his lips travel like a shiver all across your body. You could swear that if he wasn’t holding you this close, you would've passed out.

It wasn’t even deep, it was short, warm and sweet, but somehow you feel like it was something you’ve been waiting for, for a very long time.

After a few seconds, he pulls away and you open your eyes, dazed.

You notice him smiling and then he bites his lip, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now, actually” he says quietly as he stares into your eyes.

You somehow feel your face get even hotter, “same” you quietly whisper.

You notice you said it out loud and you quickly cover your mouth with your free hand.

He chuckles, and you push him back lightly, “You’re teasing me now” you tell him as you look away, pouting.

“I’m not, I promise,” he says as he guides your face with his free hand back to face him, “I mean it.”

“I thought you didn’t like me...”

“Me?” he asks, looking confused.

“I don’t know, I'd always find you glaring at me when we pass in the school halls, or whenever I'm with Bo during lunch or during his practices...”

He just chuckles softly, “I guess I understand why you’d think that,” he says, looking like he’s thinking seriously about it, “I think, I just found it hard trying to get close to you, or try and get your attention. I mean, you're friends with Bokuto for god’s sake, the king of attention,” he says and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘That is true, no one can beat Bokuto at attention seeking’

“And by the way,” he continues, “I wasn’t glaring, I was admiring”

Skip

You look away, getting flustered again and you hear him chuckle. “I swear you're doing this on purpose” you sigh and you hear him chuckle louder.

You look down and notice his hand still intertwined with yours, but this time he doesn’t let go when he notices you staring.

‘This is too much for my heart right now.’

‘If this is a dream, however, then I don’t want to wake up yet...’

“I should, head back now, though. It's... getting late, so...” you say as you look back at him.

“Right,” he says as you both slowly start to let go of each other's hand, “I can, uh, pick you up before school, tomorrow, you know, so we can go there together, if you'd like” he says, or asks(?) as he scratches the back of his head.

‘God, he’s so fucking cute...’

“Sure,” you answer him, trying to sound cool and calm on the outside but you're actually freaking out on the inside.

“Alright,” he says looking happy, and he nods towards your dorm building, “I’ll watch you go in”

“Alright,” you don’t really know how to say goodbye, so you just turn around and take a few steps towards the building

‘Do it coward. I mean you just kissed why are you even getting embarrassed now. Wait did we just kiss??? Okay don’t go off topic, just... fuck it’

You turn back and run to where Akaashi’s standing, he looks at you confused but you just reach for his face and place a kiss on his cheek.

You feel him stiffen at first but then relax as he gives you a flustered chuckle, “BYE!” you half scream before you run into the dorm building without looking back.

As soon as you reach your room, you throw your bag on the floor, jump on your bed and start screaming onto your pillow.

After a few minutes of you trying to calm yourself down, you flip over and stare at your ceiling.

‘I can’t believe this just happened...’

You take out your phone to text Bo, not necessarily to tell him what happened, but to share your excitement, and you notice 2 new text messages.

2 NEW MESSAGES

You open the first one.

FROM ‘Baka-to’: “Hey, idiot, did you get home safe? You still haven't texted me. Anyways sorry for surprising you with Akaashi today, I just definitely thought you guys would get along, and you did, didn’t you? Didn’t I do well? Hohohoho anyways text me back, idiot”

You shake your head at him, but cant help but agree.

REPLY TO ‘Baka-to’: “You were right, as always, I love you dumbo. And I got home in one piece, no worries”

You then open the second message.

FROM ‘Akaashi Keiji’: “Hey pretty, I’ll be waiting for you at 6:30 a.m tomorrow morning, see you then. Sleep tight”

You grab your pillow again and scream into it.

‘I never want to wake up from this dream’ you think as you slowly drift to sleep.

(HQ Masterlist)

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyu scenarios #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi #akaashi scenarios #haikyuu akaashi #fluff #i cried at least 10 times while writing this okay #haikyu oneshot #haikyuu oneshot #hq bf #mi

148 notes · View notes

whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years ago

Text

to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 2/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: blood and injury, Remus being mildly unsettling

Chapter Word Count: 5,074

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 3)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They don’t talk about it.

Thomas would very much like to talk about it. But whenever he goes to bring it up, Janus glares at him in a way that promises a world of trouble if he so much as breathes a word, and Thomas really does not want to set back any of the progress he’s already made with him, so he shuts up about it. He’s not entirely sure why Janus is so opposed to addressing it; it can’t be that he doesn’t want the others to know, after all, because all the others are literally parts of Thomas and as such are privy to the knowledge of everything that Thomas experiences.

As best as Thomas can tell, it’s some sort of embarrassment that holds Janus back, some sort of shame, and Thomas doesn’t get it. Surely he knows that Thomas doesn’t mind at all, that Thomas enjoys the time they spend together, even if their conversations are far more one-sided than he would like. Janus seems to be under the impression that coming to him at all is in some way unseemly, while Thomas just wants him to be comfortable enough to approach him as a human.

But as more time passes, that seems less and less likely. Thomas spends far more time with snake-Janus than with human-Janus, and Janus begins to come with him even when the sun shines bright and his spot by the window is available. Thomas becomes quite familiar with carrying a weight looped around his neck, and wishes he could puzzle out why Janus is acting this way.

The worst part is that with every passing day, he feels like he understands Janus less, not more. Because the way he acts during meetings and discussions, when he pops in to offer opinions and advice masked as sarcasm and cutting quips, is entirely different to the way he acts as a snake, when he and Thomas are alone together, when he leans into all the contact Thomas has to offer, seeking warmth, and, Thomas suspects, company. It’s almost as if he’s dealing with two entirely different people, each one unwilling or unable to discuss the other, and frankly, Thomas has no idea what to do about it.

Because he’s worried that if he pushes too hard, demands one answer too many, Janus will stop approaching him at all, in any form. And that is the last thing he wants.

So, he leaves it be, and resigns himself to the idea that human-Janus may just remain incomprehensible to him, and that snake-Janus is the closest he will get to making a friend out of him. And if that turns out to be the case, then gosh darn it, he will be the best friend to snake-Janus that he possibly can be.

This has the side effect of leading him to a snake-centric fact-finding mission, which Logan appreciates, at least, because “even if the information may not be applicable to most aspects of your life, at least you’re learning something, Thomas.” Which he supposes is fair. He learns a great many things about snakes over the course of a few days, most of it interesting, if not particularly relevant. He doesn’t know how much of this actually applies to Janus, since he’s not a real snake.

Though he does find out that snakes don’t have eyelids. That would explain the whole no-blinking thing.

Other than his impromptu investigations, they fall into an equilibrium fairly easily. Janus will seek him out at all hours of the day and wrap himself around his arm or neck, sometimes staying awake and aware and sometimes drifting off into sleep. And when he’s fed up with the company, he leaves, disappearing with neither warning nor fanfare. Thomas settles into this new routine with little effort, and decides that if this is all he’s going to get from Janus, he’ll take it.

He gets used to it, so much so that he stops looking every time he feels Janus curl around him. This turns out to be a mistake.

He’s procrastinating, as per usual. His deadline is a full week away, and even Virgil has been unable to provide the urgency that Thomas needs to push through and finish his latest project. He knows that this will only end badly, that he’s going to end up staying up until the early hours of the morning in a few days if he doesn’t get started now, but he simply doesn’t feel like it. So, he’s scrolling through Amazon instead, clicking through pages of items that he neither needs nor particularly wants.

He’s been looking at a lot of frogs, lately. Cute, decorative frogs, the kinds that sit on mantles and don’t do much of anything. And plushies, too, and those are actually tempting. He’s pretty sure that it’s Patton’s influence.

“What do you think?” he asks, holding up his arm so that Janus can see the screen. Janus hisses quietly, and he laughs. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He doesn’t have the money to spend on a bunch of decorative frogs, even if he had a strong inclination toward doing so, but it’s fun to look. He’s seriously considering a stuffed animal, but he’s pretty sure that Logan intends to talk him down from that, so there’s no real need to be concerned about it. Even if he ends up buying one after all, he thinks it would be worth it.

He glances down at Janus, trying to figure out if he’s enjoying this at all, or if he’s just irritated. And that’s when he finally notices the blood.

He freezes up, his muscles tensing, and blinks hard, hoping that it’s a trick of the light, or that spending so many hours doing practically nothing has fried his brain at last. But no; Janus’ scales are dotted with rusty red, and Thomas traces the blood back to a long gash trailing down his side, sluggishly oozing, slowly dripping onto his arm. He stares for a long moment, his mind stalling, and he wonders if the scent of iron flooding his nose is real or imaginary. Or rather, real by a certain standard, since everything to do with his sides is technically imaginary, but oh god, why is he bleeding so much? He thought that his sides could wave off injuries, that nothing could truly affect them unless they wanted it to? Or is that just Logan? And then there’s the question of what did this to him in the first place, and how exactly he’s supposed to treat someone who’s a figment of his imagination, and whether or not any of the real medical supplies he has would work at all—

Focus, Thomas.

It’s like a whisper in his ear, gentle and firm. Logan’s voice. The world snaps into sharp clarity, mind and adrenaline working in tandem.

“Oh my god,” he says, and Janus’ head swivels to face him. The movement is slow, almost lethargic, as if he’s operating on a time delay. “You’re hurt. Okay. Well, not okay. But you’ll be okay.”

He has a first aid kit in the bathroom. He has no idea whether that will help or not, but he won’t know until he tries, as his logic helpfully points out. So the first order of business is to get to the bathroom. He stands, setting his laptop to the side, trying to jostle Janus as little as possible. Now that he’s paying attention, more and more details filter in; Janus’ grip on his arm is looser than usual, his eyes dull and glazed. His hat, usually so perfectly placed, is just slightly askew.

He makes it to the bathroom in short order, yanking the kit out from under the sink and nearly spilling its contents across the floor. He’ll need both hands for this, and he looks to Janus with no small amount of trepidation, wondering how well he’ll take being moved. He doesn’t want to cause him more pain than necessary, and he doesn’t know how aware he currently is, doesn’t know if he’ll lash out if he feels threatened. He gives him an experimental nudge, prodding at him with one finger, and Janus hisses, shifting his coils to hold on tighter.

“C’mon,” Thomas says. “You gotta let me help you, buddy.”

There is is again: buddy. He still doesn’t think it fits quite right, but it seems to slip out anyway, and now is hardly the time to worry about it, not when Janus still shows no sign of budging.

“Please, Janus,” he says, dangerously close to begging. “I promise, I’m not gonna let anything else happen to you, but you need to let me see where you’re hurt.”

Janus’ tongue flickers out, tasting the air, and his eyes seem to focus just a bit. One minute passes, and then another, and Thomas is about to try to remove him by force when finally, he lets go, slithering onto the counter, his motions hesitant and pained, softly hissing all the while. Blood begins to drip onto the sink, the sickening red smearing across the countertop.

“Thank you,” Thomas says, not bothering to hide his relief. “Okay, um, I’ve got bandages. And painkillers, if you want them… can snakes take painkillers?” He sets things out as he names them, slowing as he hits a snag. Not only does he not know if snakes can take painkillers, but he also doesn’t know if there are any other substances in here that would do more harm than good, or if there are any special steps he should take due to his scales, or the fact that he’s cold-blooded. In fact, he has absolutely no idea how to treat a snake, and the idea that he might end up making things worse is enough to send his anxiety ratcheting up a few notches.

Is he overthinking this? He might be overthinking this. But what if he’s not?

Try to remain calm. If you don’t know enough to work within this situation, change the situation.

Logan again, though he’s not sure how that’s supposed to help. He would change the situation if he could— heck, that’s what he’s trying to do— but if it were so simple as wishing this whole scenario away, he would have done it by now. He’s not sure how to—

Oh, wait. Change the situation, or change Janus’ situation?

He has absolutely no idea how to treat a snake. But Janus doesn’t have to be a snake.

He crouches down so that he’s on eye level with Janus, who is limp and unmoving on the sink counter, tracking his motions with clouded eyes. It’s not just the large gash, he realizes; that’s the worst of it, but there are several shallower cuts, all still open and bleeding, and he swallows hard.

“Okay, so, I don’t want to make things any worse,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Do you think you could turn back into a human for me? Just so that I know what I’m doing?”

Not that he knows much about treating humans either, but at least he’d know where to start. Perhaps if Janus’ injuries were less severe, he could work with them in this state, but that prominent gash looks deep and angry, probably about six inches long, wide and painful, rending scales apart and leaking dark blood and god, he is so afraid of making this worse—

Janus stares at him, and doesn’t react.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas says, because he is. He doesn’t know why Janus only initiates contact with him as a snake, doesn’t know why the very idea of deviating from that seems to disquiet him. Asking him to be human now, like this, almost seems wrong, like they’ll be breaking what understanding they do have between them, breaking the peace they’ve found with each other lately. But then, the peace is already broken, he thinks, has been broken since Janus showed up bleeding. “I know you probably don’t want to. But I want to make this better, and I don’t think I can if you’re uh, shaped like this. I… I guess I’m asking you to trust me.”

It’s a tall order, and he is well aware of that. Janus is Deceit, after all, and Deceit is practically the antithesis of trust. He’ll probably have to work with Janus as a snake after all, and he’s just resolving himself to do the best he can when Janus shifts in place, raising his head.

Thomas isn’t sure how to process what happens next. One part of his brain tells him that the change happens slowly, that Janus’ form stretches and morphs in impossible ways, scales fading away and features rearranging before his eyes. The other part of his brain insists that the shift is instantaneous, that it happens as quickly as blinking, that in one moment, there is a snake curled on the counter and in the next, there is a man, with no gradual transition between the two. But however it happens, Janus now sits in front of him, arms and legs all present, hunched in on himself and wheezing. One hand flies to his side, clutching at his shirt.

Thomas blinks. For a second, his mind fights with itself, trying to decide on what, exactly, he just watched. Then, he decides that it doesn’t matter, that he’ll have a crisis about it later, and that there are more important things to concentrate on.

He reaches out, placing a steadying hand on Janus’ shoulder. “Easy, easy,” he says, raising his voice to be audible over Janus’ gasps. “Are you okay?”

It takes a minute for Janus to get his breathing under control, and when he does, he looks up at Thomas, his expression pinched. “Just fine,” he rasps. “Absolutely perfect, can’t you tell?” His voice is strained, tension showing in the lines around his eyes and in the thin set of his mouth. “Really, Thomas, the fuss is hardly necessary. I—” He cuts off with a slight gasp, eyes squeezing shut, and Thomas feels his heart clench.

“Hm, yeah, no, I think I’ve got the right to fuss a little bit,” he says, hoping his voice stays level. He looks him up and down, searching for the injury, and finds nothing; his shirt appears immaculate, his whole outfit as perfectly assembled as usual, not a rip or tear in sight. If it weren’t for the pain on his face, the tremors wracking his frame, Thomas wouldn’t suspect that he was injured at all, and he frowns. “Can you, uh—” He gestures— “take off your shirt, maybe? So I can see where you’re hurt?”

Janus sighs heavily, as though the request has greatly burdened him. He waves one hand in the air, and his shirt and capelet vanish, revealing his bare torso. Under any other circumstance, Thomas might be fascinated by the scales that trail all along his chest and left arm, but right now, his attention centers on the gash bloodying his side, and the thinner scratches that cover him. They all look bigger than they were before, more serious, and he hopes that he didn’t make the wrong decision in requesting him to shift. If it had been a bad idea, he would have refused, right?

“God, Janus,” he says. “What happened?”

Janus sighs again, rolling his eyes. “A mishap in the Imagination,” he says. “Unfortunately, both Roman and Remus designed the place so that its effects stick around even after leaving.”

… Alright. That’s probably something to talk about later; he doesn’t particularly like the reminder that he has no idea how most of the mindscape works. “But I thought you could heal yourselves?” he can’t help but ask. He vividly remembers the day he met Remus, the way that none of his attacks seemed to affect Logan for more than a few seconds.

“We all can, to some degree,” Janus agrees. “It’s more difficult for some of us than it is for others.” He hesitates, and the next words come out slow and almost defensive. “I am capable of it, if I succeed in persuading myself that the problem doesn’t exist in the first place, but in order to do so, I need to sufficiently distance myself from any negative sensations that accompany the harm. I am… currently finding that difficult.” He glares. “I’ll mange perfectly well, given time. There is no need for any of this.” He waves an arm to punctuate the declaration, and it might have been somewhat convincing if it weren’t for the fact that he immediately curls in on himself, face paling, like he’s pulled something the wrong way.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Well, how about you let me help you anyway, just for my peace of mind?”

Janus stares at him for a long moment, face unreadable. Finally, he glances away. “Do what you wish,” he says. “If you want to waste time on this, be my guest.”

He hums noncommittally, already inspecting the wound. “I don’t think that taking care of you is a waste of time,” he says, fishing through the first aid kit. He comes up with a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol, looking up just in time to see what can only be an expression of shock fade from Janus’ face, and god, what must he be doing wrong if that is Janus’ reaction to being told that he cares about him? He can’t unpack that right now, or else he might cry, so he holds out the Tylenol instead. “Painkillers?”

Janus nods slightly, and takes two dry. From there, Thomas works in silence, cleaning the wounds as best he can and bandaging them. It takes longer than he expects, and he debates whether or not the long gash will need stitches. He decides not to make the attempt, trusting that what Janus says is true and that he will be able to heal before too long. So he wraps bandages around his torso, and Janus, for his part, remains perfectly still, staring straight ahead, an occasional soft hiss the only thing that betrays his discomfort.

“Okay,” he says quietly, inspecting his handiwork. “I think that’s the best I can do.”

Janus shoots him an unreadable look. “In that case,” he says, “I believe I’ll be going now.”

He hops down from the counter before Thomas can stop him, and his face crumples like a wet sheet of paper. Thomas catches him as his knees give out, hooking his hands under his arms. He is surprisingly light, his skin cool to the touch.

“How about we don’t do that, actually,” he says. “I’ll tell you what, let’s go to my room, and I can work and you can get some rest?”

Janus hisses, trying to jerk away. It’s not difficult to prevent him from doing so; he has all the strength of a floppy pool noodle. “Oh yes, because I’m in dire need of a babysitter,” he spits out, and perhaps Thomas should feel intimidated, but looking at him, at the way all the color has drained from his face, at the way his eyes have glazed over even as they dart around the bathroom, all Thomas can muster up is a deep worry.

“I’m not trying to babysit you,” he says. “Believe me, I know that you of all people don’t need babysitting. But if you try to sink out now, I’m just gonna be stressed out, so if you’d stick around for a little bit, I would really appreciate it.”

Janus stills. The silence stretches on.

“Fine,” Janus says. “Sure. Whatever.”

Thomas restrains himself from letting out a sigh of relief, instead adjusting his grip on Janus until he is only supporting part of his weight. From the look on his face, Janus wants very much to grumble about the indignity of the situation, but miraculously, he remains quiet all the way to Thomas’ room, though he begins to drag his feet when he sees what Thomas intends.

“If you want me to rest,” he says, “I am perfectly capable of doing so in my own room. There’s hardly a need for me to take up space in your bed.”

“Okay,” Thomas says, lowering him to sit on the bedsheets and doing his level best to ignore his glare, “but then I won’t know that you’re alright. Also, I don’t see what the big deal is? It’s not like we haven’t done this before. You were just, uh, snakier.”

He knows immediately that it is the wrong thing to say. Janus’ face sets into an impassive wall, and he looks away, refusing to make eye contact. Thomas can’t tell what he’s feeling, whether it’s anger or embarrassment or frustration or some stubborn combination of the three. But he settles himself against the headboard without further argument, seemingly determined not to carry on any further conversation, so Thomas resigns himself to the silent treatment and sets up with his laptop on the other side of the bed, several inches placed between them.

The atmosphere is awkward, heavy. They both know that Thomas wants to talk, and they both know that Janus will not reply, or if he does, it will be with sharp sarcasm or otherwise cutting words, an answer that will not answer anything at all. So Thomas doesn’t say anything, merely glances over every now and again to be sure that Janus is still there, is still fine, is still breathing. Every time, he is greeted with the same sight: Janus staring off into the empty space in front of him, face blank, a faint tightness around his eyes the only indication that he is still in pain. There is a wall between them, invisible yet insurmountable, and Thomas has no idea how to breach it.

Why does their relationship feel so off-kilter now? Why are things so natural between them when Janus is a snake, small and speechless and cuddly, and not when he is a human?

“I don’t mean to force you to stay,” he murmurs. “If you’re really that uncomfortable, it’s alright if you leave.”

He’s watching him out of the corner of his eye, and as such, he sees the wince, slight though it may be.

“It’s… not that,” Janus admits. “I am grateful for your concern, truly. I just… so love being in unfamiliar territory.” His voice is a quiet drawl, but laced with exhaustion, his words just shy of slurred together.

He takes a second to parse through the words, and then smiles. “Well, that makes two of us,” he says. “I’d be alright with muddling through together. And look, I know that most of the time, when we hang out, you’re a snake. And that’s fine! One hundred percent fine, if that’s what you’re most comfortable with! But uh, I really wouldn’t mind spending more time with you as, like, a person, too, if that makes sense. Not that you’re not a person when you’re a snake! Wait—” He furrows his brow, trying to untangle his words, and looks over, certain that Janus will at least be amused by his rambling.

He’s not. Because Janus is asleep, his chin resting against his chest and his hat about to fall into his lap. Thomas feels an inexorable sense of fondness sweep over him, and with a gentle movement, he reaches over to pluck the hat from Janus’ head, revealing brown hair that falls in springy waves. He places the hat on the nightstand, casting one last look at Janus before returning his attention to his laptop.

There is plenty of work to do, and he is content to do it here, sitting in bed with Janus napping by his side. So he does, his fingers clacking against the keys long into the night, and Janus sleeps on.

-----------

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. But he must, because he wakes, and slowly processes the fact that all is not as he left it. For one, the light is off, the room dark, and his laptop is resting on the nightstand, next to the shadow of Janus’ hat. For another, there is a heavy weight on top of his chest, pinning one of his arms against his side, and in the seconds before his eyes adjust sufficiently to the darkness, he fears the worst, fears that someone has broken into his apartment and… crawled into bed with him, and the irrationality of that idea is enough to dampen his panic. He squints, trying to will his vision into focus, and begins to make out what features he can see of the face pressed against his chest, features that very closely resemble his own, and that is when he remembers: Janus on his arm, Janus injured and bleeding, Janus on his bed, Janus asleep. Janus… still here.

Janus, snuggled up against him, his head resting on his chest, his body curled into his side, latched onto him with both… no, there’s more than two arms. At least four, maybe more; it’s difficult to determine without the light on, because all that Thomas can tell is that he is being very thoroughly hugged, and that it feels very nice.

This fact is distracting enough that it’s a full three minutes or so before he realizes that there is another figure perched on the edge of his bed. Panic roars up in him once again, his heart pounding and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, but then he notices the details, notices the poof of the figure’s sleeves, the wildness of their hair silhouetted against the light that creeps around the edges of the doorframe, the unholy red gleam of their eyes. And he… well, he doesn’t relax, not exactly. But most of his fear sidesteps directly into annoyance.

“Remus,” he hisses, as quietly as he can manage. “What are you doing?”

Remus cocks his head, his eyes shining brighter. He’s crouched almost like a grotesque parody of a cat, ready to pounce. But the Duke himself is still and silent, and it’s very odd. Almost worrying. And when he finally speaks, it’s not at all what Thomas was expecting.

“DeeDee got hurt,” he says, voice a subdued whisper, and Thomas is taken aback, both by the seriousness of his tone and the evident consideration toward not waking Janus up.

“I— yeah,” Thomas replies, uncertain as to where this is going. “I, uh, patched him up as best I could. He said he’d heal soon.” A thought occurs to him, and if Janus weren’t keeping him flat on his back, he’d be sitting bolt upright, finger pointed in accusation. “Wait, he said he was hurt in the Imagination. Did you have something to do with that?”

“I can’t keep an eye on every part of La La Land at once, Thomas.” He shrugs. “It’s not my fault if Snake from Snake Farm wandered into something he shouldn’t have.” He giggles, high-pitched and a little manic, but Thomas wonders at his tone of voice. It’s as irreverent as always, but underneath that— can it be concern? He really didn’t think Remus did concern. “Snakes should know better than to let their guard down. Your mind is dark and full of terrors.” He smiles, several rows of pointed white teeth gleaming an unnatural white in the shadows.

“I don’t even watch—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, and then freezes as Janus makes a small sound. Seconds pass, and he waits with bated breath, but Janus doesn’t seem to wake. “Okay, then,” he continues, more quietly. “Is there a reason why you’re here?”

Remus blinks, and once again, Thomas is reminded of a cat. A terrible, eldritch horror of a cat, but a cat nonetheless. “DeeDee doesn’t like to be around people when he’s hurt,” he says, rocking back and forth in place. “He doesn’t like people knowing when he’s weak.” He sighs through his nose, his breath whistling more than is natural. “He holes up in his room and doesn’t come out for anything, usually. Not even when I bang on the door and put rats in his air vents.”

Thomas stares, trying to process that. “But he’s here with me,” he says dumbly. “He decided to stay here. He’s…” He trails off. He doesn’t need to describe what Janus is doing; surely, Remus can see it for himself, can see them engaging in what can only be labeled as cuddling. And it’s not as if this is the first time; it’s just the first time Janus has been human-shaped.

“Yes, he is,” Remus agrees, voice sharp, and he is definitely trying to convey something here, something that Thomas is missing. “Tommy-boy, Tommy-boy, Tommy-boy, you’re just not getting it, are you? Well, that’s fine. Just remember that the snakes on the plane die too, if the plane crashes.”

“Is the plane crashing?” Thomas asks, voice hoarse, hesitant, and once again, Remus smiles, wide and dangerous.

“Not now, maybe,” he says. “But it still could. It always can. That’s the fun thing about airplanes. I could help with that, if you wanted.”

“No thanks,” Thomas is quick to reply.

Remus shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says, and then pauses. “Janus doesn’t let just anyone this close, you know. So don’t fuck it up.”

It’s such an uncharacteristic statement that by the time Thomas has recovered enough to reply, Remus is gone, melting into the bedsheets in a grotesque puddle of goo, and then, even that disappears. Thomas is left in a dark, quiet room, and he has never felt more awake.

But Janus is still here, still asleep, is holding onto him for dear life and hiding his face against his chest. And it’s something precious, something intimate, something that Thomas feels privileged to see at all, and Remus’ voice rings loud in his head: Janus doesn’t let just anyone this close. Why, then, has he allowed him this? Why has he let Thomas see him at his most vulnerable, no matter how reluctant he was at the start? Why did he choose to stay, rather than leaving once Thomas nodded off?

Each question only leads to more questions, and it’s clear that he won’t receive any answers tonight. So he settles back in as best he can, though it is a long time before he manages to fall asleep again.

In the morning, Janus is gone. He wishes he could be more surprised.

------------

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @ldavmp4 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @sammy-is-obsessed @imlovethomassanders @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @halfordshysteria @random-fander @addykatb @i-cant-find-a-good-username @intruxiety

Fic Taglist: @5am-the-foxing-hour @idkanameatall @i-fear-no-god @dwbh888 @why-do-you-care @astraheart04 @lonceallivander @im-a-creepy-cookie

Feel free to ask to be on the taglist!! (But please specify which one!) (And also if I ever accidentally put you on the wrong taglist, let me know and I’ll fix it!)

#sanders sides #ts sides #platonic thomceit #character!thomas #janus sanders #ts janus #remus sanders #ts remus #my fic #part two babyyy #long post

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sinsbymanka · 3 years ago

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Writing Tag Game

Okay listen I’m on vacation XD hence why I’m ignoring everyone’s tags/taking forever to respond. But I’ve been tagged in this A LOT and I really liked it/wanted to do it so thank you to everyone who tagged me (oh my god I’m so sorry if I missed one of you there were SO MANY): @noire-pandora, @in-arlathan, @thevikingwoman, @morganlefaye79, @elveny, @kunstpause, @pikapeppa

I’m not tagging anyone because I’m tagging everyone since I’m too lazy to find my tag list (I’m on VACATION). If you’ve not gotten tagged and wanted to do this, say I tagged you.

How many works do you have on Ao3?

147 - I have 145 linked to my profile and two in the anonymous collection.

What's your total Ao3 wordcount?

1,468,248. Almost 1.5 million!!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Of Miracles and Heroes (FenHawke, Cadash/Varric, Varania/Blackwall): 269

Interspecies Relationships Have Their Ups and Downs (Shakarian): 145

Don’t Make it Hawkeward (Varric/Hawke): 135

The Ambassador’s Vices (Josephine/Adaar): 111

The Girl with the Arrow Tattoo (Cadash/Varric): 101

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do (but - to be honest - it takes me FOREVER). I love comments. It’s so much easier to not leave comments than leave comments, so every time someone leaves one I’m blown away. I feel like - for leaving me a comment - you’re definitely owed an answer! I do apologize that it takes me awhile though - I am very bad at answering because they mean a lot to me and I get easily overwhelmed by the AO3 inbox I don’t know why. Blame anxiety.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I’ll be honest, I don’t like angsty endings so I don’t have many of them. By far the angstiest ending I have is Flowers, Lies, and Forgiveness. This is a Bianca Davri/Varric Tethras fic set during the final act of DA2. I wrote it from Bianca’s POV - showing Varric unraveling under the pressure of Kirkwall and Bianca’s complicated feelings about infidelity to her husband who clearly cares about her as well. I wrote it for @hollyand-writes who always lets me lean into the tragic “fucked upness” of the pairing when I’m feeling like making Varric suffer.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending

I prefer happy endings so almost EVERYTHING has a happy ending. My favorite endings, so far, are for Cheating the Dread Wolf, which is my Varric/Cadash/Solas polycule (or as I like to refer to it - Solas has a dwarf kink) and The Viscount’s Mistress which is my Hurt/Comfort Cadash/Varric Trespasser bullshit.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I have not written crossovers - but I am very into AUs in another setting that belongs to a different fictional universe. Most recently I got back into my Downton Abbey bullshit and wrote Flappers for Fen’harel which is basically a Downton Abbey AU Solas/Cadash and I’m not taking comments about the outrageousness of it.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yep. Honestly though? Over the two years I’ve been active in Fandom, the shitty comments can be counted on one hand and usually came from the same people over and over again, who are easily blocked, and should stop seeking out clearly labeled content they don’t like. Me and my work are not for everyone - that’s REALLY okay. I’ve blocked people for no other reason than making things I don’t like - that doesn’t mean they’re bad people.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

GOD DO I.

I am extremely sex and kink positive. Because of this - a lot of my work involves sex in some way or another. I think sex is a beautiful part of many (although not all) relationships, and that it’s frequently glossed over in mainstream media (particularly queer, kinky, and polyam sex).

This ranges from sort of vanilla slow burns (My Cole/Bea fic, Compassion for an Assassin, has smut which hasn’t been posted yet. It’s Cole’s first time and is fairly vanilla and romantic, and occurs approximately 40k into the fic) to some pretty dubious consent near 24/7 dom/sub dynamics with BDSM kinks (I’ve written JUST as much of the Sereda/Gorim problematic smut as @jarakrisafis has in our series Forced Moves).

There’s very few kinks I’m not willing to touch at least to try out - even if I end up not liking them. And the ones that aren’t for me are 100% allowed to exist and I will fight for them to the bloody end. My only recommendation is CLEARLY labeling your shit and not being afraid to add a tag if someone asks you to.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of? I’ve seen ideas I’ve tried on picked up by other people - but I don’t consider that stealing and it’s hard to trace “who has been inspired by who” because we ALL have been inspired by thousands of other people and frankly more stuff for me when I pull you over to my weird AUs and rarepairs.

I also think that’s a huge part of not getting stolen - I’ve got so much weird niche shit that only a couple people read that stealing from me is going to most likely be caught IMMEDIATELY the audience is so small.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t believe so!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! I’ve got some co-written secret smut with @blarfkey which almost nobody has seen, I’ve borrowed @tightassets Hawke, Lavellan, and Shepard for fics that she has illustrated, borrowed @tuffypelly‘s Adaars for some great fics, and my most ambitious project - the Forced Moves series with @jarakrisafis. It started out as us just exchanging gifts back and forth but we’ve wrangled it into Gambits and Countergambits, an Aeducan-origin prequel, that I’m VERY proud of.

I love co-writing very much, but it’s very important to find the right partner and for it to be someone you trust completely.

What's your all time favourite ship?

This is a stupidly hard question because I am, at heart, a multi-shipper.

I love Varric/Hawke and Varric/Cadash. I’m also a sucker for Solas/Cadash. My fandom pool noodle is Varric/Cadash/Solas which I adore, and I’m very fond of Cole/Cadash.

Most recently I’ve been DEEP in Aeducan/Gorim Saelac, Bhelen/Rica/Vartag, and Aeducan/Brosca feels. Dwarf origins are the best origins in my opinion and those characters are PERFECT.

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I fully plan on finishing everything. My writing style changed a lot, for the better, in a short period of time. I need to integrate my old style/new style and had to get a pep talk about how to do that. Now I’m ready to try as soon as I finish Compassion for an Assassin.

What are your writing strengths?

I write very sexy, hot smut. I also really like playing with character voice and making sure I get them “right” so I do a lot of experimenting before publishing a new character for the first time.

I struggle to write action scenes - it’s like pulling fucking teeth - but people really LOVE my action scenes and they read well. So that’s something I’m proud of even if it feels like doing fucking pull ups.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I never learned anything. My experiences with English and writing teachers were overwhelmingly negative. I’m unsure if I’m just not cut out for classes or if they were that bad, but I always left feeling like there was one “right” way to do it, and everything I liked was “bad”, so what was the point of “learning” anything?

It turns out there’s this very pompous, pretentious thought process in writing where people “assume” things must be done, but GOOD writing teachers teach you the rules and then how to break them. I either never had a good writing teacher or got too intimidated to give them a chance before bouncing.

So I’m exceedingly self-taught. I lack the vocabulary to discuss plot structure, characterization, grammar, etc. I instinctively know most of these things based on trial and error and reading, but I didn’t learn them and I miss a lot of nuance in the rules, but until recently I was still too intimidated and unsure of myself to admit that or take it seriously.

So - my defense mechanism is NOT taking ANYTHING seriously. If my writing is a joke to me, it’s gotta be a joke to everyone else, but that’s been a shield to hide behind instead of being thoughtful about things. I’m here to have fun, yes, but there’s nothing wrong with learning a technique to the art.

I’ve learned - mostly thanks to @blarfkey who is an amazing person and a wonderful teacher - that I am a good writer based on my self-teaching. And being intimidated of people who throw around impressive sounding words is a weakness that I am working on.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Use sparingly and with good reason. It should be short and explained later or clear from context.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter on message boards back in the fucking day. Thankfully none of it exists anywhere anymore.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

This is such a sappy answer and I’m so sorry. My favorite things have been written for and because of people I love and care about. When I read them, I’m not just reading the story, but remembering the relationships I’ve made and how important they are.

So, my top three fics for THAT reason:

1. Cheating the Dread Wolf - written for @blarfkey who inspired the idea and ruthlessly encouraged me to make it happen. This fic was so healing for me because it heavily features Fatherhood within it - and I lost my father in June 2020. I don’t know if I’d have been able to do it without her and it was so important for me to do.

2. Gambits and Countergambits - written with @jarakrisafis and the culmination of a years worth of gifting shit back and forth and crafting a shared universe. The worldbuilding, smut, relationships, EVERYTHING about this fic is so deeply and passionately cared about by both of us and to our knowledge it is completely, totally unique.

3. Relentless, Ridiculous, and Rakish - one of my only primarily gen-fics focusing on a forming brother/sister relationship between Maria Cadash and @tuffypelly‘s Otsar Adaar. I very much enjoyed writing it for her <3

And then my overall favorite fic:

The Viscount’s Mistress: I have a lot of opinions about how fanfiction treats the anchor’s meltdown and the aftermath. It’s one of the things in DAI that resonated with me SO much as someone who lives with chronic pain and a disability. I loved the fact my OC was in the same shoes and STILL saving the world. This is very much a fic that explores all the dark sides of trauma, pain, and the mental health effects of it. But it ends on a happy and hopeful note.

#manka writes #writer tag game thing

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imaginingmultifandom · 4 years ago

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Can’t Keep Running From You (Part 3)

Summary: You went too far, and Draco has finally had enough of you. At least that's what you think. But true feelings don’t just vanish, and neither does his desire to protect you.

Words: 4303

A/N: This is the last part to this mini-series, and you can find the other parts here: Part 1 Part 2

I’d be really thankful for some feedback, so if anyone wants to tell me what they thought about this I would love that 🥰 Thank you for reading!

You hadn't expected him to react like this. And even worse, you didn't want him to react like this. Students walked all around you, but their chatter and laughter were dulled in your ears.

You knew you needed to head to class, but your feet didn't move, no matter how hard you tried. You shook your head, trying to compose yourself.

It wasn't until another student accidentally bumped outright into you that you were brought back into reality. You mouthed a hasty sorry to the girl and quickly began walking to your class.

Over the next few days, you didn't talk to Draco at all. Whenever you sought him out, he went out of his way to get away from you. One day, when Professor Sprout wanted you to work together in Herbology class, he even went so far and requested another partner to be paired up with.

It hurt more than you had expected, though you weren't sure why. You tried to tell yourself it was just your bruised ego, now that you were the one being avoided. But if it was just that, then why did your breath stop every time you spotted Draco in your classes, the hallways, the Great Hall?

This is what you had wanted all along, wasn't it? Didn't you want it to be over? If so, why did it hurt so freaking much?

You tried your best to distract yourself from these thoughts, and throwing yourself into your schoolwork was your favoured method to do so at the moment.

But sooner than you liked, it was Friday, and the weekend was getting closer. You had never thought of yourself to be in the position to dread the free time that came with it, but for the first time in your life, you did.

You had finished all your homework already, and as you left your last lesson for to the day, you knew there were no more distractions from Draco. At least not until Monday.

You couldn't even hang out with your usual friends, since the Golden Trio had some project due together that Hermione would make sure to force them to work for all weekend.

"Y/N, wait up," Pansy's voice called out behind you, just as you were walking away from your last class.

"Yeah?" You stopped in your tracks, curious as to why she wanted to talk to you.

"We're having another party at the Slytherin Dungeon tonight, you want to come?" She asked, before putting on a sceptical face, "Just don't leave as early as last time. You still didn't tell me why, by the way."

"I- I'll think about it," You tried to sound at least somewhat up to it, even though this was practically the last thing you wanted to do right now, "I still have some homework.. I'll try to come," You lied.

The Slytherin common room meant seeing Draco, and you had had enough of that in the past week during school.

"Just come, it'll be fun," Pansy remarked, "Starts around 9, I'll see you there." With that, she simply turned around and walked back to her other friends.

You wanted to decline again, but she was already too far away by now.

A few hours later, after you were back in your dorm room after dinner, you had already forgotten about the invitation. Well, nearly forgotten.

Because as you laid there on top of your bed, all your dormmates out with their friends or stuck studying in the library, you realized there was honestly nothing for you to do. And this meant that all you could think about was him.

You reminisced about your first kiss, the memory feeling all fuzzy and warm. Then you thought about the day after, how Draco had pinned you against that wall, leaving you dizzy. And then, well, the memories went to a bad place.

You had left Draco standing there, just another back and forth between you, but that time it had been too much. You thought about the harshness in his voice when he had told you off after lunch, how his eyes had been so cold it scared you.

Something clicked in you now, and you realized that Draco was going to be occupying your thoughts either way. Whether you stayed here, all alone and miserable in your room, or there at the party, where you had at least some other people (and booze) to distract yourself with.

And maybe, you were tired of not seeing him, too. It would hurt, sure, but you needed to see Draco. Even if only from a distance.

You looked at the floor clock in your dorm and realised that was just a few minutes after nine o'clock. If you got ready now, you would still be there early enough before everyone was too drunk for you to catch up. So, you decided to just do it.

About half an hour later, you arrived at the Slytherin Dungeon and were let in by Pansy.

"There you are!" She exclaimed a bit more cheerful than usual, "We've already started with some shots, come and join in," Well, that at least explained her cheerfulness.

"Hey," You smiled back at her awkwardly, your eyes looking over her shoulder and scanning the room for Draco almost immediately, "All the usual people at the party tonight?" You tried to ask without raising too much suspicion.

"Yeah," She nodded but corrected herself a second later, "Well, most people. Draco's hasn't shown up yet, still bloody moping in his room for some reason. But who cares, let's have some fun,"

You weren't sure if you felt relieved or disappointed, knowing that Draco wasn't around yet.

You didn't have much time to think about that anyway, because Pansy pulled you over to some other Slytherin students who were filling up shot glasses with a weirdly shimmering, lilac liquid. When they passed you a glass, you didn't dare to question what kind of drink this was. And frankly, you didn't care. After these last days, you were glad about anything that could take your mind of Draco.

You interlocked your arm with Pansy's, and you both threw your head back into your neck and downed the shot.

"Oh Merlin, this is strong," You shook your head slightly in disgust and a few of the others drinking with you did too.

Laughter erupted between you all, and for the first time this week, you were starting to have fun. And when the next round of shots came around, you let your glass be filled up again. And after that, another time. It didn’t take long for you to stop counting your drinks.

The music was blasting away all around you, and you weren't sure how much time had passed by now. It didn't matter though. You were wandering around the room rather aimlessly, chatting with people one minute, and the next having another drink with someone else.

You were having more fun than expected and had almost forgotten about the reason why you initially didn't want to come here.

"There he is!" You suddenly heard Goyle's voice shouting across the room, and watched as he lifted his arm to point to the corner of the room that was out of your sight, "You're missing all the action, mate,"

You turned, wanting to know what he was referring to. It took you a moment to register who had just entered to room, your mind already way too hazy to process things quickly.

"What exactly am I missing out on? Your silly little drinking games?" Draco sneered at Goyle, and your heart dropped to your feet.

Sooner than you liked, Draco spotted you too. There was no way to tell whether he was shocked to see you, his face gave away nothing. His expression was empty when he looked at you, and the blond quickly tore his gaze away from you.

„Just get me some whiskey," He ordered to Goyle, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. He could have just as easily gotten it himself, you mused.

Goyle obeyed though, and Draco sat down on one of the large black leather couches in the common room with the filled up glass in his hands. He didn't deign to look at you.

A part of you wished for him to show any kind of reaction to you being here, but Draco simply ignored your presence. How the tables had turned.

Well, if this was how he wanted to do this, you would match him. Two could play at this game, after all. Everyone seemed to have slowed down a bit as soon as Draco had entered the room, but you decided to change that, maybe purely out of spite.

"Come on, let's get this party going again!" You drunkenly shouted, and Pansy joined you with a loud whoop.

The music was turned up some more, and you made a point to dance to it especially cheerfully. If this thing between you didn't affect Draco, you would make sure to show him how much of a good time you were having, as well.

Some time passed, and Draco still hadn't moved from the leather couch. But after laughing a bit too hard at one of Blaise's jokes one time too many, you noticed you were being watched. You peered along Blaise's side and realised that Draco's eyes were fixed on your every move.

Draco was still nursing the whiskey Goyle had brought him earlier, and he didn't shy away from keeping a watchful eye on you even once you spotted him.

You weren't sure what he was trying to accomplish with this, and it just made you want to show him even more how much of a good time you were having. Even though you weren't quite sure whether you were feeling good about this, after all.

By now, the room around you was spinning and you lost your balance more than once. Still, that didn't make you slow down even the slightest bit. It was getting hard to form thoughts that made sense, and even harder to get words out of your mouth that weren't slurred.

You sat down on the couch that was opposite the one that Draco was sitting on, telling yourself that you just needed a moment to rest. Or maybe because you just wanted to be a bit closer to Draco, even though that was a thought you wanted to push out of your mind as soon as possible. Another drink would help with that maybe, you foolishly considered.

So when Blaise handed you one after you had barely sat down for a minute, you took it. This time it was green and maybe a tad too slimy, and reeked of hard liquor before you had even lifted it to your mouth.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Y/N." Draco spoke up suddenly, looking up and down between your face and the drink in your hand, "You're already wasted. This won't end well,"

His voice was raspy as if he hadn't spoken to anyone since he had sat down at that couch more than an hour ago. Or two. You had no feeling for how much time had passed since Draco had arrived, the alcohol tainting your judgement.

"I think I know how much I can handle," You replied more snappily than you wanted, inwardly hating yourself for pushing him away like that. But you couldn't think clearly anymore, the conflicting feelings inside of you not mixing well with the number of drinks you had had.

What followed now, was more than childish, even your drunken self could recognize that. Purely out of spite, you raised the glass to your lips and downed it with one gulp while looking Draco directly in his eyes.

He didn't break away from your gaze, and instead simply shook his head at you in disappointment as he watched you.

"Just don't say I didn't warn you," Draco remarked.

Those were the last words you heard before everything around you went black.

The feeling of strong arms picking you up and carrying you somewhere was the next thing you could feel.

You slipped in and out of consciousness, feeling cold air around you one second and the warmth of a wool blanket engulfing you the next.

But throughout all these short passages of consciousness, there was a common theme. A familiar perfume in your nose, and the faintest words being spoken to you by a gentle voice that you couldn't quite place.

Everything you had consumed in the past hours seemed to catch up with you at once, knocking you out completely.

"Get out of here," Those were the first words you could hear clearly again, and you recognized that it seemed to be Draco hissing at someone, "Y/N needs some rest, Crabbe. Go sleep somewhere else or go back to the party, I don't bloody care,"

You opened your eyes slowly, the room that you were in only barely lit by a candle somewhere on a nightstand. You weren't sure where you were, or how you had gotten there in the first place.

"Y/N?" Draco's voice piped up as soon as you opened your eyes, and you turned to see him perched on a chair next to the bed you were currently laying on, close to your head. When you moved your face to look at him properly, everything in the room seemed to move as well. It left you feeling sick to your stomach.

"At least you're opening your eyes again," Draco let out a relieved breath, forehead furrowed in concern, "You were completely blanked out,"

It took you long to process the words he said, still feeling as drunk as before and now sick on top of it. Draco noticed that, and slowly lifted his hand to your face. He softly pushed a few stray strands of hair away from your forehead back to where they belonged.

Your head was pounding in pain, but his gesture calmed it down a bit.

"Just rest, Y/N. You need it," Draco whispered, pulling his hand away again but still keeping a watchful eye on you.

"I'm fine," You insisted, feeling everything but fine. You closed your eyes again and drifted back into a deep slumber.

The next time you woke up, the candle in the room was extinguished. Daylight was already falling in through the window and allowed you to see that Draco was still sitting on the chair next to your bed, though his figure was more slumped than before. He looked like he hadn't moved or slept at all.

"Hey there," He mumbled, giving you a sleepy smile as he noticed you were awake again. It was the first smile you had seen from him since your falling out, and despite what felt like your worst hangover ever, it made your heart skip a beat.

"Where am I?" You asked, your voice scratchy and your head throbbing. You were still wrapped up in a wool blanket that was nearly pulled up until your ears. You noticed it smelled just like Draco.

"My dorm." Draco answered quietly, "But don't worry, we're all alone. The others have slept somewhere else last night,"

"Just because of me?" You asked, feeling guilty about basically having robbed them of their sleeping place.

"It's fine," Draco remarked, "You weren't feeling well, and needed rest. Everything else doesn't matter."

"What happened exactly, anyway?" You questioned and finally registered that it was indeed Draco's bed you were laying in, "And how did I get here in the first place?"

"Well, after having that last shot it didn't take long for you to pass out on the couch," Draco said, "I tried to wake you up again, but you hardly reacted. I was seriously considering calling Mrs Pomfrey because you were so out of it,"

It was hard for you to listen to him, you felt way too embarrassed.

"When you finally talked again, you insisted that you wanted to stay at the party," Draco further explained, "But you kept on drifting back to sleep and couldn't even stand up, even less walk. So I ended up carrying you here before things could get even worse,"

"Oh," That was all you said at first. You felt guilty, even more so because you had already put him through so much lately, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to ruin your party night,"

"It's fine, really. I wasn't in the mood for that party anyway," Draco insisted, a deep sigh escaping his mouth before he continued, "If I'm being honest I only came over to the common room because I thought I had heard your voice. Turns out I was right,"

"So you came because of me?" You questioned and slowly sat up, leaning your upper body against his bed frame. You were honestly surprised by his unexpected confession, maybe he wasn't as fed up with you as you had assumed.

"I guess I wanted to make sure you were okay, and keep an eye on you," Draco confessed, his voice low as he gestured over to you in the bed, "I wanted to be there for you in case something like this happened."

"Thank you, Draco. I mean it," You expressed truthfully, "I know we haven't been on the best terms lately-"

"Y/N," Draco interjected, "I'll always be there for you when you need me. No matter how angry I am at you, or for how long we haven't spoken to each other."

The Slytherin boy's words were gentle, but they also reminded you of the elephant in the room that had been avoided up until now. You hadn't talked this much to each other in over a week, not since Draco had made it clear that your back and forth had gone too far.

You thought back to how much you had doubted Draco lately, how scared you were of him hurting you and how you had pushed him away over and over again.

It finally dawned on you that you had painted a bad picture of Draco that only existed in your mind, and when you compared it to the boy in front of you now, it rightfully fell apart.

Maybe you had gotten it all wrong, maybe trying so hard not to get hurt was the worst way to go about love.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted that," You whispered, finally able to be more honest about your feelings, "Actually, there's something I've been meaning to say-"

"Oi, Malfoy," Someone pounded their fist against the closed door of Draco's dorm, "Can we finally get back into our own beds? Or are you still using this as a honeymoon suite?"

"Shut up, Goyle," Draco shouted back and furrowed his forehead in anger.

"I should probably get going," You said hastily, not wanting to be any more of a burden than you had already been, "I don't want to keep them out of their room."

"I'll head back to my dorm," You added and got up a bit too quickly, the room swirling around you. The alcohol had left your body by now, but the hangover was still in full effect. You gave Draco a small smile before heading over to the door, "Thank you again for this, Draco. I owe you one."

"You're welcome," Draco smiled back hesitantly, and you couldn't help the feeling that something went unspoken between you two. And for the first time, you didn't want to run away from these things that were left unsaid.

"Hey, Draco?" You asked, the door handle already in your hand, "Will you meet me in the Astronomy Tower later?"

Draco let out a deep breath as if he had been waiting for you to say exactly this, but Goyle pounded against the door again before he could answer.

"I'm coming in now, whether you like it or not," Goyle's voice was rumbling through the door, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. That boy had the worst timing. But you didn't want to keep him waiting any longer, scared that he would kick in the door and you with it if you did.

So, you opened the door and stepped out of it without another word.

Only after you had already left Draco's room you realised that he hadn't exactly had a chance to answer your question about meeting up yet. It looked like you would have to just hope for him to show up.

By the time it was afternoon, you had refreshed yourself and were already feeling way better than you did in the morning. Still, you felt nervous as you walked up to the Astronomy Tower.

You didn't know for sure whether Draco would actually show up, though you desperately wished he would.

But he was nowhere to be found as you reached the top of the stairs leading to the tower, and you felt your heart sink to your feet in disappointment. You walked up to one of the big windows, letting your gaze wander over the spectacular view and your thoughts run back to Draco.

The Slytherin was used to getting what he wanted, and perhaps it had been foolish of you to think that he would give you another chance after the things you had put him through.

Maybe you had made up your mind just a little too late.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs echoed through the tower. They sounded familiar, and when you turned around you were relieved to see Draco walking towards you.

"Did I keep you waiting?" He smirked at you, taking note of how much nervous tension seemed to leave your body when you spotted him.

"Maybe," You admitted, "If I'm being honest, I wasn't sure if you would show up."

"And I wasn't sure if you would be here waiting for me when I did show up," Draco remarked.

"I suppose you have a point, there," Your shoulders slumped a bit, "I know I haven't been.. reliable, lately."

"Not exactly, no," He agreed, nevertheless stepping towards you.

You matched him, also taking a step forward. You gathered your thoughts, trying to find the best way to ask him for another chance.

Draco spoke up before you had the chance to.

"Look, Y/N- There's something I need to say," His voice was low, and your heart stopped at the thought of him now rejecting you for good.

You lifted your head to gaze at him, wanting to at least look him in the eyes if he did.

"I thought I wouldn't mind doing this, this whole chasing after you," Draco mused, "I thought it could be fun, maybe. And it was, at first. I can't deny that," His thoughts raced back to your first kiss, your lips tasting of firewhiskey and your arms wrapped so tightly around him, "But I can't do it anymore, not like this."

"I know." You whispered, "I shouldn't have put what my ex has done on you. I know what we have is different-" You hesitated for a moment, and quietly added, "If we even still have that.."

Draco didn't say anything, instead, he just took your hand in his. He interlocked your fingers, letting his thumb softly run over the back of your hand.

You looked down to your intertwined hands and then back to his face, finding the courage to keep on speaking.

"You told me that I have to stop running from you one day," You said, and Draco gave a small nod to indicate that he remembered those words, "And I'm stopping. Today, right now, whenever you want me to. If you still want me to,"

Draco let go of your hand, and for a second, it felt as if you had lost him. But then, ever so slowly, he lifted both of his hands and cupped your face gently.

"So, you're saying, darling.." Draco questioned in a mumble, his eyes still serious but the softest smile beginning to play around his lips, "If I kissed you now, you would accept?"

"Yes, Draco," You breathed out shakily, eyes wide as you looked at him.

"And if I wanted to make you mine, you would let me?" He leaned down and gently guided your face towards his, his lips now just merely an inch away from brushing against yours.

"I want nothing more than to be yours," You whispered, longing for his lips to finally touch yours again. He kept you on edge, made your stomach flutter.

"I'm in love with you, darling. You know that, right?" Draco murmured, still not quite closing the gap between your lips.

"I do," You admitted, "I do now, more than ever," You thought it would be hard to say those words again after your ex, but suddenly, it was so easy, because Draco was the one you said them to, "I'm in love with you, too. I promise I will never run from us again,"

"And I promise I won't give you a reason to, Y/N."

Then, Draco finally closed the distance between your lips and kissed you. He took it slow, allowing himself to fully sink into this moment with you.

It wasn't the first kiss you shared, but it still felt all new and different. There was no rush between you now. This wasn't a sloppy kiss when you both had had too much firewhiskey, and it wasn't a hasty kiss hidden away in an empty hallway either.

No, this kiss was more than that.

It was a promise for more to come, a promise that you both would finally let the love between you bloom.

"You're mine now, darling," Draco whispered when you pulled away from each other, "Don't ever forget that,"

And you never did.

@justmesadgirl @youknowiloveyou-so

TAG LIST UNDER CUT

#draco malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #imagine draco malfoy #harry potter imagine #harry potter #draco imagine #draco #draco x reader

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veliseraptor · 4 years ago

Text

2020 Fanfiction Round-Up

I do one of these every year! And have since I think 2016. Can’t break a tradition even if it’s been a clusterfuck of a time and filling this out was in some ways an exercise in remembering the ways I have failed myself as a writer this year.

But oh well!

Total Year-Long Wordcount: I’ll post the final final number tonight after I finish the writing I want to do this afternoon (and plan to do this afternoon), but it’s currently 451,803 words written this year. Guessing I’m going to land somewhere around 453,000ish. (AO3 claims a higher number than that but that’s because it is counting the entirety of fics where I posted chapters this year.

This year I wrote and posted: I wrote a fair number more than I posted (there are five fics finished but for various reasons unposted on my hard drive) but based on Tumblr I posted 78 posts in my fic tag, which, not including chapter specific updates and three sentence meme answers (but including at least two Tumblr-only longer fics), probably comes out to about 60 or so “full length” fics that saw the light of day in 2020.

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

Well, I wrote more than I did last year, which is sort of a surprise to me (all things considered) but also maybe not, because I was doing a lot less of most other things that could’ve been occupying my time, including two hours daily of commuting.

But still less than I did in 2018. Which is fine.

What’s your own favorite story of the year?

Lord, I don’t know. It depends on when you ask me. Lately I’ve been in a bit of a “I hate everything I’ve written ever” state of mind, so that makes it sort of hard to do any kind of...reasonable assessment.

I know I’m proud of With Absolute Splendor but I have all these reservations about it and I can’t reread it for the most part because I always notice new things I wish I’d done differently. I feel pretty good about efforts in a common cause but something about it still makes me cringe, which I suspect has to do with my general self-consciousness. I have a hard time feeling unreservedly proud about...anything I wrote this year, really.

I feel like the closest I get is maybe nor autumn falter which I am pretty pleased with and also which does hurt me a lot personally. Or I did end up overall pretty pleased with what came out of By Proxy.

But also the more I look at this question the more I start hating all my own work, so...guess this is kind of coming at a bad time.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I mean, I started writing in my first non-English fandom in many years, and specifically one where I was trying to engage more with the cultural background of the setting (in a way I wasn’t with, say, Death Note, when I was writing Death Note fic). So that was a risk. And I learned that it’s very stressful and there’s so many ways to make mistakes and I am, in many ways, a coward. But also I think I’ve learned a fair amount thanks to a lot of very patient people on the internet, so...there’s that.

Otherwise...I mean, I got ambitious with a few projects this year (the Big Bang fic and With Absolute Splendor stand out), but I’m not sure how much I really tried new things.

I feel like I had to fight myself a little on writing straight up bad sex for By Proxy - I planned on it being hot, and it really wasn’t. It was mostly just miserable. Which made for a better fic, but was a new experience for me as far as ‘I thought I was going to write porn and that isn’t what I wrote.’

From my past year of writing, what was….

My most popular story of this year:

By far, With Absolute Splendor. In fact, it has now become my second most kudosed fic of all time, behind only fuckin Life in Reverse. So like. That’s a thing.

(It is still less than half as many as Life in Reverse, but for context Life in Reverse has been around for going on eight years.)

Most fun story to write:

Most fics where I feel like “I’m having so much fun writing this!” also go through a “oh god I hate this it’s terrible” phase which makes this sort of hard to assess. But I did have overall a lot of fun writing Mutual Friends despite all my frustration with the canon-wrangling I had to do to make it work in my head.

But also I feel like both Retributive Justice and Embedded were in different ways deeply iddy fics that were just fun to write. That actually goes for a lot of the Whumptober fics. That was a very self-indulgent month. Excited to do it again in February (hopefully, if I can write things in a timely manner at all).

Story with the single sexiest moment:

I feel like the beauty of your repair might be my personal favorite smut I posted this year, but I think my personal favorite that I wrote is in the big bang fic nobody will see until January.

I feel like most of the sexiest moments I’ve written this year are in the porn fics I’m going to start posting in January also. But just generally I feel like the beauty of your repair is the sexiest thing I wrote and posted.

Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:

I mean, I Come With Knives is definitely up there. It’s not that wrong or anything, but it got pretty intense in some ways I wasn’t expecting. Mostly in how much blood got involved, which was actually more than I’d had it involved in a sex thing before! Kind of surprises me that I haven’t previously done more with bloodplay stuff but. Well. First time for everything!

I don’t think this was a year that really had any “wow, what the fuck, Lise” things in it. Nothing on the level of last year’s winner. I’m almost disappointed in myself.

Abattoir was definitely the story that generated the weirdest conversation and creepiest search questions, though, so it does get points for that.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

I feel like the writing of everyone else is spring bound was a lot of...me thinking through my Jiang Cheng feelings and specifically my Jiang Cheng post-canon feelings.

the martyr, the victim was pretty formative in shaping how I think about both Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and their relationship with each other. It was the first fic I wrote that really dug into them in any way, I think, and definitely one that informed how I thought about writing Lan Xichen later.

Hardest story to write:

I was thinking it was the one that I haven’t posted yet but I did technically finish, aka my Big Bang fic, the terrible threesome fic, the massive “I’m gonna keep everyone in the Yi City arc alive” AU that I started shortly after finishing The Untamed and finished in December. So I spent most of the year writing it.

But then I was like - no, I’m going to have to go with we live until we die even though it’s technically been ‘in progress’ for five years and really kicked into gear in 2019 and I just finished it and posted it this year, because that fic was like. The culmination of a big arc in an enormous verse dealing with a whole lot of balls in the air and trying to tie up a whole lot of threads. It was ambitious and the stakes were high and it was full of plot and action which are not two of my strengths...frankly I’m still amazed I pulled the damn thing off.

Biggest Disappointment:

I think it is better if I refrain from going too in depth on this because it would just end up as me listing a bunch of my perceived failings. But I think off the top of my head I’m frustrated by the fact that I still haven’t really managed to write a XueXiao smut fic that quite hits the spot for me, myself. I’ve written two and for various reasons I don’t really like either of them.

Biggest Surprise:

The fact that my Jiang Cheng fic took off the way it did. Legitimately did not see that coming! At all! I mean, I’m delighted by it but it wasn’t what I saw happening as far as “niche I’d find in this fandom” or “thing I’d write that people would really enjoy reading.”

Particularly with By Proxy. That fic got a lot more attention than I would’ve expected.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story:

I feel like every fic I write with Xue Yang in it tells you something about me and most of those things are things that make me, on some level, deeply self-conscious, but I try not to think about that too much.

I feel like the most telling story is maybe we all drift sometimes because I literally wrote it out of a depressive episode about a bad brain day but that wasn’t unintentional.

Favorite Opening Line(s):

1. So it turned out that if you touched the tendons of a dead person’s wrist and channeled a little bit of spiritual energy just right, it made the fingers twitch and curl like they were still alive. (Abattoir)

2. Here’s the thing: your Daozhang is glorious when he kills. (tear out all your tenderness)

3. Turned out that a sect leader’s head came off like anyone else’s. (Unnatural Selection)

4. The first hint that anything had gone awry was the letter from Lan Wangji (His Excellency Hanguang-jun, pardon me) that simply said have you heard from Wei Ying? (some good mistakes)

5. What Jiang Cheng wanted to do, more than anything, was to go home and take a nap. (everyone else is spring bound)

Favorite Line(s) from Anywhere:

I usually keep this to 10 but because I’ve been in such a :| place about my own writing I indulged myself this once.

1. Sometimes it felt like all he had done since descending the mountain was shatter his own dreams and accumulate regrets. (nor autumn falter)

2. It felt like she was holding all the components of a bomb in her hands, half assembled. If she moved the right way they would stay just that: components. But if she moved the wrong way… (til my judgment day)

3. He should have killed him. Should have been the one to strike that blow, in revenge for Jin Zixuan and their sister and everyone else dead for Wei Wuxian’s pride. Maybe then there would not be this gnawing, aching thing embedded in his chest; this itching, unfinished feeling. Maybe then he would not feel torn in two, sometimes like he should have reached out with his other hand and sometimes like he should have struck truer and sometimes both, in the same moment. (Interstitial)

4. He owed Wei Wuxian more than he could ever give back in this lifetime. Forgiving him felt like betraying his sister’s memory. Not forgiving him felt like trying to walk with a thorn in his foot. He was just - stuck, caught like a demon in a spiritual net.

Jiang Cheng thought of the way Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji, with warmth and trust and love, and the aching, sick jealousy he had no right to feel returned. He felt a little like a child watching someone pick up a toy he’d abandoned and suddenly realizing that he wanted it back. (everyone else is spring bound)

5. You close your eyes and think about how he looked back in that town, Shuanghua slicing clean through a man’s neck, opening it to the spine, and think dizzily that he could open you like that and it’d be good, as long as it lasted. (tear out all your tenderness)

6. When Wangji loved, he loved with his whole being, without reserve. And now he had been placed between the rock of his convictions and the hard place of his devotion to Wei Wuxian. (the martyr, the victim)

7. He spent a week turning the idea over in his head. Studying it like a corpse he was going to dissect, poking at it, cutting it open and examining its insides. (dead reckoning)

8. When the world hurt you, that was the only thing to do, after all. Hurt it back, harder, worse. Spill rivers of blood for every drop it squeezed from you.

And when the end came, never go quietly. (the blood in your mouth)

9. I would stand with you through the end of the world, said Loki’s voice in his head, and Steve’s heart wasn’t in his chest anymore, was somewhere off on another planet where Loki was lying dead in a ruined city. (we live until we die)

10. Was it always going to be like this? Stumbling into traps, tripping over familiar skeletons, slicing himself open on the edges of old hurts. Was there really such a thing as leaving the past behind? He still felt stuck in it, unable to move, and every time he thought he might be finally dragging himself free something pulled him back. (With Absolute Splendor)

11. His chest was full of poison. His throat was full of grief. And he was still a little drunk.

Jiang Cheng went to his room, sat down on his bed, put his face in his hands, and cried until he couldn’t breathe. (By Proxy)

Top 5 Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated:

I think the scene from nor autumn falter of Xiao Xingchen just crying his heart out over Xue Yang’s dead body would be up there.

The Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian hug from the end of With Absolute Splendor.

Okay, just gonna say it: Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao having sex by the table with Nie Mingjue’s headless corpse on it. So sue me.

The scene in the blood in your mouth where Song Lan has stabbed Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen is following the line of Fuxue to the latter. I have a very clear visual of it in my head and if I could art I’d art it.

Xue Yang with the hallucinatory Xiao Xingchen from liberate spirits, liberate souls.

Fic-writing goals for 2021:

Finish Walking Far From Home.

Maybe I’ll finish some of these MCU WIPs? I’d kind of like to, on an abstract level if nothing else.

Become a more well-adjusted human being about the relationship between my productivity and my self-worth.

#fanfiction round up #confessions of a frustrated writer #you'll get my fun statistical analysis nonsense later

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novantinuum · 4 years ago

Text

Contact (Ch. 3/4)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (No TW this chapter, but keep in mind this involves major character injury)

Words: 3.0K~

Summary: The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

Chapter Summary: Amethyst, Greg, and Pearl struggle to keep it together.

So this fic is Steven and Amethyst centric, set during the 2 year time skip. It’s also kinda in conversation with An Indirect Kiss, and explores the idea of what could happen to a hybrid with a cracked gem. This chapter has no specific trigger warnings.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

Chapter 3: The Fountain

Discounting extreme circumstances, (such as diamond mind control or flaws in incubation), Gems are designed to have perfect memory.

It’s one of the many aspects of their culture that surprises humans, and all too often one that makes them jealous. But Amethyst doesn’t understand why there’s anything to be jealous about. Sure, maybe it means she can learn a skill once and be done with it, or hold on to cherished moments in crystal clear recollection, but it also means that in some part she’ll always be haunted by everything boring, everything bad. It’s an unavoidable facet of her life: that every passing second of all those years she spent alone in the Kindergarten waiting for orders she’d never receive is forever etched into the baseline circuitry of her gem like ink on a human’s skin, that she can remember every rotten fight she and Pearl ever had with picture perfect clarity, each instance ending with her feeling like absolute garbage for days and days. That... no matter how hard she tries to escape the untimely reminders... deep down, all those selfish, immature versions of herself she wishes she could dump in the past forever are still a part of her coding.

In comparison, humanity has it lucky. In time, they forget. They move on. Even the most traumatizing memories seem to eventually fade by the end of a life, leaving behind only feelings... only scars... just whispering impressions of those experiences.

She desperately hopes Steven takes after his dad and not Rose in this aspect.

The four of them exit the ship in a hurry, Amethyst still helping Greg carry his son, and Pearl advancing ahead to check on the state of the water supply.

As always, Rose’s fountain is a time capsule. The shrubs and trees surrounding the inner pool are tame now, a stark difference from the first time she had the untimely pleasure of visiting, but the cold, staticky sensation rising within her as she steps off the boarding ramp of the Roaming Eye with Steven’s legs secure in her grasp is the same. Amethyst only barely holds back a shudder. She recalls the disorientation she felt in this place so vividly she may as well be cracked all over again.

The world glitches violently within her sights, ashen sky and charcoal stone phasing into each other. Left is right and up is down, hard light stretching out from her broken gemstone like clawing, yearning fingers... forming and reforming, taut at one moment and pliable at the next, and her words are jumbled and backwards, and deep within she knows this with an intense clarity but she can’t help it, she can barely even think, she ca—

“Amethyst, no more roughhousing, you'll exacerbate your crack!”

“Doog m’I, gnihtyna ro yrrow t’nod.”

“This isn't right... the fountain isn’t running.”

“WHY CAN’T I CRY?!”

The thin little circuits of light running throughout her projected body jolt in remembrance of that afternoon, indelible phantom pangs of a sliver of time she can never forget for anything. With a dull huff and a grimace, she adjusts her hold on the boy she’s long come to see as her baby brother. Best to not become lost in the flood of the past when she’s got a mission to uphold. That’s... that’s all this is, ch’yeah? A mission. Just a mission. Retrace your steps, meet your goal, get it done. Easy-peasy. No problem.

Ignore the stakes. Ignore everything that isn’t right here and right now. Ignore the sharp cries of pain that escape his lips intermittently, that stab at you so deep you feel like you should be poofing.

“Amethyst?” a voice comes to her softly. “You okay?”

But don’t ignore Greg. Whatever you do, don’t ignore the people around you, don’t lose yourself to that awful disorientation again, don’t make everything worse, don’t push, don’t roughhouse, don’t—

“She’s been cracked like this before,” Pearl explains as she walks in a frantic pace ahead of them. “And we Gems, well... we remember things vividly, shall we say.”

She scoffs, still inwardly cradling her gem in response to what happened in the Roaming Eye. Sheesh. It’s so typical of her to launch headfirst into other people’s business before she can open her own dumb mouth to explain on her own, huh?

“Wow,” she bites back on jerk instinct, “thanks for the announcement, Pearl. ‘S not like I could’ve said it better myself, or anything.”

The slender Gem snaps upon her bait with a piercing, annoyance-filled gaze, and frankly, Amethyst would’ve doled out another snide comment in return had Steven’s hoarse voice not chosen that moment to hitch in panic, derailing all other thoughts in an instant. Her arms grow just as stiff and locked as the muscles in his calves, be it from sympathy or as a mirror into the bitter past, to a time where she suffered just as much as he is now.

The weight of this realization settles like lead at her core. Her favorite guy in the whole galaxy is in earth-shattering pain, and she’s wasting precious seconds of his life taking cheep shots at Pearl?

Not the time, she growls at herself, shedding her petty feud to the wind. Focus!

“Uh, y’guys? I-I think it’s happening again!” his father says, exhausted arms quivering under the strain of carrying the boy for so long.

“Damnit,” she hisses, and follows Greg’s lead on easing his body closer to the ground before the worst of his fits arrive. This time, Steven lacks the energy to mask his broken sobs, split between desperate gasps for breath. Nothing, not gentle whispers or even his father’s calloused hand delicately brushing through his curls, seems to soothe his anguish now. She doesn’t consider herself much of a crier, but she’s close to tears herself just watching him. As she glances up to check how far they are from their destination, she catches a flash of ivory and blue disappearing between the shrubbery. “Pearl!” she bellows, her shout echoing across the entire garden. “Slow down, would ‘ya? He’s seizing again!”

Her features contort as she whirls around to glance back, unmaskable stress now nearly tearing her apart at the seems. She jabs her finger at the narrow path between the shrubs. “But we’re almost—“

“Fine, fine, never mind! You’re right!” Amethyst blurts, waving her off. “You go run ahead. Just...”

Her voice grows thick as she roughly wipes away the moisture accumulating at the corner of her eyes. She forces herself to drink in the stark reality of their immediate situation, taking note of the injured teen’s hiccuping cries as he recovers from his latest seizing episode, as he continues to ride through the unimaginable torment of a cracked gem left too long without healing... his dad, kneeling amongst dirt and stone, no doubt pressing harsh indents into his knees as he freely offers his lap as a headrest, panting with exhaustion, absolutely wrecked with anxiety and terror despite doing everything within his power to mask it for his son’s sake... and her. Her. Amethyst, Facet-5 Cut-8XM, a Gem who’s become downright traumatized by this place, by this precise scenario, barely able to retain a handle on her own emotions and eidetic recollections to where she actually feels she can be of reliable help.

“I don’t think we can’t follow you anymore, ‘kay?” she says, hoarse. “Greg’s tired, Steven’s flat-up in tears, and... an’ this place is startin’ to really mess me up, y’know? S-so...”

She tugs at thick clumps of her hair as the thought trails off, fingers fruitlessly searching for a clue that might direct her out of these darkened, murky waters and back to shore.

But as always, if you put in the work to look for them, there’s leading lights scattered amongst the mist in places you’d never expect.

“Bring the fountain to you,” Pearl completes, gaze softening within that moment. She nods in wholehearted acceptance of her duty. “I’m on it.”

Thank you, she mouths in earnest, the dull buzzing running throughout her form dropping to a blessed minimum as she— lips parted— watches her longtime friend disappear between the shrubs and vibes, every arc of her movement accentuated by unerring grace. Amethyst flushes, and mentally pushes such sentimental distraction away.

Right. Okay. One problem solved. Back to Steven.

The hybrid in question is cradled in Greg’s care, his head laying in the man’s lap and his limbs twitching without repose. She hasn’t checked the state of his gemstone recently, but given the minutes ticking away since his injury and his steadily deteriorating state, she’s almost too scared to look. Greg continues to whisper thin reassurances to him, wiping the sweat off his dampened forehead.

“He’s getting really warm,” he comments, stress coating his tone, and damn does she wish she could do something, anything, to help, but there’s simply nothing they can do without that healing water.

As the trio waits for word from Pearl, inevitable waves of dread collapsing upon them heavier and heavier with each uneven heartbeat that passes, Steven’s wobbly gaze falls upon her.

“Ah... Amethyst,” he gasps, barely able to attain a full breath.

She snaps to attention, clasping his hand tight in hers. “Yeah? I’m here, buddy, I’m here! Whatever you need.”

“I’m- I’m s-suh—“

Sorry, she realizes he’s trying to say, remembering how he struggled earlier trying not to stumble over the ‘s.’ She swallows hard.

“You don’t gotta be sorry for anything, ‘kay?” she says, rhythmically rubbing the back of his palm with her thumb. “It’s my fault, this is just- I should’ve been looking out for you, I should’ve protected you and I failed. All this is on me.”

“B-but I—“

To her utter horror, his next words are so slurred in his disorientation they’re all but unintelligible. All attempts on his part to communicate are then broken as he gnashes his teeth together and writhes in his father’s arms. Greg’s brokenly calling his name as he loosens his hold, vying with every slice of will he has left to help him not hurt himself further, help him find any shred of relief, but it’s of little use. The boy is all but unresponsive right now. She tries her best not to internalize the sound of his broken wails, least they be carved upon on her gem forever. Her form flickers in the height of her distress, hard light veins pulsing with unparalleled intensity.

The memories are impossible to dodge now. Those fragments strike like barbed arrows.

The cliffside. The fall. The rock. The audible crack as her fate is sealed. The immediate static rising in her mind as she stands up, only halfway alert, feigning casual indifference as her body quite literally begins to fall apart. I’m fine. I’m fine. The worry, the brambles, the panic, the fountain, the strained tears, c-can’t think can’t feel, can’t —

“It’s empty!” Pearl cries from the distance, voice shrill and laced with panic.

Her eyes split wide as she snaps her head towards the ivory Gem’s call, dread clasping ahold of her like a physical hand to her gem. “What??”

She emerges from between the shrubbery to enter the clearing again, emphasizing her doom-spelling news with a sharp flourish:

“I said, the main fountain is empty!”

“Empty?" Greg repeats, all the blood draining from his face. He squeezes his injured son’s hand with the grip of a man lost at sea, clutching to a life preserver.

But while he freezes upon processing this information, Pearl can’t seem to stop pacing. Her lithe fingers twitch rapid fire as she passes back and forth in front of them, brimming with an infinite supply of nervous energy that’s befitting of their perilous situation.

“Stars, the water we left behind after healing all those corrupted Gems must have completely evaporated...” she mutters to herself, clutching at the lapels of her jacket as if this garment is the last tangible thing holding her form together. “I knew we shouldn’t have left it open to the elements!”

“But then- what the hell are we supposed to do now?!” he says, voice breaking in all his fearful anguish. His gaze snaps from her to Steven laying prone in his lap. “My only son is in agonizing pain! He’s- he’s got a high fever! We can’t just give up! There has to be something!”

“I- I’ll check in the inner chambers!” Pearl says with dawning realization, one last ray of hope penetrating the glossy surface of her gemstone as she jabs her index finger into the air. “Surely there has to be some remnant of Rose’s healing magic left, right?”

Steven shudders in his dad’s arms, sloppy tears streaming down his pale cheeks.

“Tluaf ym lla si siht...” he blubbers, and for whatever reason something about his unintelligible speech seems... different from before. Her brow creases as she searches the infinite wilds of her stored memory for answers, for patterns, anything that might provide the slightest hint of clarity in this fraught situation, and sure enough...

Dawning truth stings like a fist to the jaw as she recalls her own experience and realizes his slurred words are far more than unintelligible; this injury has scrambled his mental processes to such a degree that his speech has slipped backwards. And that can only mean... Lip quivering, Amethyst pushes through the dread tugging at her soul and yanks up the hem of the teen’s shirt. The deep gouge running diagonal across his gemstone has lengthened— edging ever closer to the edges of the pentagon— and threatens to partition it in half. Pearl’s soft “oh no” and Greg’s strained sob tell her everything she needs to know. The consensus is clear: time is not their ally anymore.

“Pearl, HURRY!” she yells, pointing towards the fountain’s heart.

Her fellow Crystal Gem doesn’t even pause to comment on the matter, and instead, water brimming at the corner of her eyes as she spends her last second in their company lovingly gazing upon the boy as only a surrogate mother could, hurriedly disappears between the shrubs to seek out Steven’s last chance of salvation. Left alone in the throes of their mutual panic, Amethyst and Greg place comforting hands upon his head as— huddled together on the cold stone of the fountain’s doorstep— they’re assailed by the terrifying possibility that his life may very well slip between their fingers before Pearl can ever hope to return. Gone, in an instant.

Shattered.

Her shapeshifted stomach churns at the mere thought, like she’s finally eaten something her hard light system refuses to break down. She clutches tight at her own gem, gasping as she rides the sharp wave of distress. In all these years, though every fight and struggle... she’s never seen someone shatter before. Fresh, hopeless tears cut a raw path across her cheeks as her hand trails across his overheated forehead.

Stars, not today. Not him, please not him.

The teen barely restrains a hiccuping sob as he cries out again. “Thgir gnihtyna... od t’nac I, syug yrros m’I!”

Greg’s breath hitches, gaze briefly trailing from his son’s strained face to his still-exposed gem. Whirling to face her, he roughly grabs ahold of her shoulders, his expression downright pleading now. “Pearl... Amethyst, if she doesn’t find anything, if the fountain’s empty, please tell me there’s somewhere else we can go, something else we can do...!”

She frantically shakes her head. “I- I don’t know, we—“

Desperately, she wishes she could give him reassurance. Desperately, she wishes Rose had thought ahead, secured a sum of her essence in another location for redundancy’s sake, but the truth is a bitter pill: they’re all but useless in this place, stripped of their agency and forced to rely on the mercy of the dead. If they can’t find any remnants of Rose’s healing tears here, then Steven’s gem will splinter into shards and he will die. She clenches her teeth together, once again feeling those phantom pains rip through her form, faint impressions of a near-tragedy long abandoned to the past, it’s over, it’s over, get a hold of yourself, keep it together, keep it together, keep it to—

“Yaw siht leef annaw t’nod I- I, deracs os, os m’I, Dad, deracs os m’I... I!”

The boy’s father clutches his hand in his, arm trembling just like Steven’s frail body as— after his long, valiant attempt to mask it for everyone else’s sake— he finally crumbles, failing to swallow his fear.

“Oh- oh god,” he chokes over his words, eyes puffy and red, “I’m... I’m gonna lose him, aren't I? He’s gonna—“

“Eid annaw t’nod I—!”

And then, at the apex of the storm, Amethyst finds what she’s always been searching for: their leading light, burning faithfully through the dark.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!!” Pearl cries from the near distance, voice growing louder with each and every syllable. “I’m coming!”

She emerges from between the shrubbery like the first ray of light breaking an eclipse's totality, clutching a thin vial in her grasp. At first glimpse the vial almost looks empty, but after the ivory Gem drops to her knees beside them in the clearing and pops the cork stopper out, sure enough— it holds a few pink-tinged drops of fluid, Rose’s coveted magic. And all they need is one.

They all watch expectantly, blood and hard light alike pulsing through their forms at a unified pace as Pearl tips the vial, allowing the tears to careen downward towards its mouth.

When the single droplet finally slips from the edge of the glass, it hangs in the air right above his cracked gem for what feels like hours, scattering the ambient sunlight across their tear-stained, expectant faces like the dizzying patterns of a kaleidoscope. In an intentional echo of all the once-alien experiences she’s long come to cherish and genuinely respect, Amethyst— despite having no lungs of her own— takes a deep, anticipating breath, her mind running through every what-if as she waits. The futures where he dies. The futures where he lives. The futures where... where she still has a chance to tell him how much he means to her. Where she’s not too late. Not a failure. Futures where they can laugh again, where they can finally begin to move on.

Time creeps forward. The healing tear plummets downward, directly towards his center facet. She exhales.

Contact.

#su #steven universe #amethyst #greg universe #pearl #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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kpop---scenarios · 4 years ago

Text

The Break (1)

Pairing: Idol! Jooheon x Idol! Y/N

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 4.9k

Hands on his knees, Jooheon attempted to calm himself down, which was proving to be more difficult than usual. His head was spinning, his anxiety through the roof and a panic attack was quickly approaching. He used to get extremely excited doing a performance, but lately he was struggling, and struggling hard. He knew he needed to go on stage right now, he needed to give their fans 100% but he wasn't in the right state of mind, not the usual one he was always in anyways.

He knew what he needed to do, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. How could he possibly take a break when they were beginning all these new projects, performances, shows and promotions. He felt like he was abandoning his group, but he couldn't go on like this. He needed to talk to them, now.

Jooheon managed to somehow get through the show, faking a smile while he just wanted to crawl in his bed and not have anything to worry about. Be alone, clear his head, frankly be able to breathe. Lately his chest felt restricted constantly, it was caving in and he couldn't take it.

He gathered the rest of the members in the living room of their door, standing in front of them while they all looked at him with concerned eyes.

"What's going on?" Shownu asked. Jooheon could hear the worry in his voice.

He took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty hands together. "I need to take a break from the group for a bit" he whispers.

"Are you okay?" Minhyuk asks.

"Do what you need to do man, we'll support you." Changkyun smiles.

Honestly, Jooheon was surprised at their support. Although he wasn't that surprised. They always have had each other's back no matter what, and supported each other during trying times. But he thought they would have been frustrated at home for backing out of everything they've been working on. He was happy they weren't.

"Any thoughts on what you're going to do?" Kihyun asks.

Jooheon is silent for a moment. "Sleep, do relaxing shit, try and clear my mind." He says, "I'll probably be in the studio, just working on whatever I want. Not having to worry about a deadline or if it's going to be approved."

"Take all the time you need. We'll be here when you're ready." Shownu says, standing up to give Jooheon a hug. Next thing he knew, all the members had surrounded him, joining in on the group hug.

He was lucky.

Opening your mailbox, you were terrified to see an envelope from Starship Ent. This was your last shot, you'd received rejection letters from all other major companies.

This was it. The moment you'd find out if your life was changing to become a trainee, or if your life won't change and your dream of becoming a singer would remain just that, a dream.

"You got it babe, this will be it." Your boyfriend Jiyong tells you.

Forcing a smile at him, your shaky hands begin opening the envelope, your heart practically beating outside your chest.

"Dear L/N Y/N" you read out loud before quietly reading the rest to yourself.

"Well!?" Jiyong asks impatiently.

You drop the letter along with dropping to your knees. The tears are instant, crying into your hands. Crying so hard you're unable to respond to Jiyong.

"Oh baby." He sighs, kneeling down beside you, his hand rubbing your back. "It's okay. You can try again next year. Just practice hard." He whispers in an attempt to reassure you.

"No." You whisper. "I got in."

"What?" He asks, shocked.

"I got it!" You scream, standing up, now jumping around, adrenaline rushing through your body.

While you were celebrating, you didn't notice Jiyong not celebrating with you, but instead looking confused and a little annoyed. But when you turned around to hug him, he turned on his happy face, making sure you didn't know his true feelings. He just wanted you to be happy but he knew how much your relationship would suffer now.

And he wasn't wrong.

You had to move out and into a community type dorm, leaving the bed you once shared with him empty and cold. Your relationship had to be kept hidden due to the no relationships clause. He never saw you and whenever he did it was only for a few minutes at a time, and all you did was scope out the location to make sure none of the other girls followed you.

He was tired of it. It was a rough first 2 months.

You knew he was upset and you felt terrible about it. You never meant to make him feel neglected or unloved, so you knew you needed to do something to show him you truly did love him.

You had a day off coming up, and you spent the majority of your free time planning a nice surprise for Jiyong. You were going to pick up his favorite meal and his favorite movie and spend the day with him. Just you and him, like old times.

Your day off was finally here and you were already on your way to your once shared house. You used your key, entering the house as quietly as possible. You make your way to the kitchen, setting down the food and the movie before sneaking upstairs.

Standing outside the bedroom door, you can hear a female moaning, but nothing from your boyfriend. You wait a few minutes, listening for your boyfriend. Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe he rented out the room to someone and it was her who was fucking someone else.

You still needed to know.

Grabbing the doorknob you slowly turn it, making sure to be quiet. The door opens a crack, but no one notices.

You open it a little more. You see your busty, curvy neighbour Jae-In riding someone's face. You hoped it wasn't him, but you knew it was. You could tell by his tattoo's. They were very distinct.

"What the actual fuck?" You yell, your eyes wide. You can't look away. You never thought he would do this to you, you thought you knew him, but then again do you ever really know anyone?

You held back your tears, you weren't about to cry in front of the smug bitch who was looking at you like she just ruined you and Jiyong looking for his boxers. "Y/N wait! Please wait!" He yells.

You roll your eyes, slamming the door behind you, running down the stairs and away from this house, and the man you once loved.

Before you're able to reach the handle of the front door, Jiyong grabs your wrist, pulling you back towards him. "Please wait." He begs. "Let me explain."

"No need for explanations. It was pretty clear what was going on." You snap.

"Do you know why I cheated? Do you!?" He yells. "Because of you! You disappeared! You weren't around anymore. Was I supposed to wait forever?" He asks.

You can't control your laughter. How could you have ever been with someone who didn't support your dreams. It was all becoming clear now.

"You never wanted me to get into Starship did you?" You ask.

"What? Of course I.." he says before being cut off.

"You tried to tell me everything I'd miss if I went. How homesick I would be, how much I would miss you and my friends. Just admit it." You say, finally piecing the puzzle together. "You only didn't want me to go because you wouldnt have a guaranteed fuck anymore, that's it isnt it?" You snap.

"No baby, that's not it! It was a mistake. I'm sorry. I just miss you." He cries, one single tear rolling down his cheeks.

"You sure have a shitty way of showing it. I'm done. Enjoy Jae-In." You say, turning around and walking out the front door, but not before giving him the finger before you slam it.

It had been 3 weeks since you'd caught Jiyong and he would not give up. Your phone constantly was lighting up with phone calls and texts from him. So much that your instructors were beginning to question your commitment.

You quickly blocked his number, not wanting anything more to do with him. If you were going to debut you needed to place all your focus on your dancing and singing.

Jooheon sat in his studio, the silence was deafening. He wasn't used to being in here alone, he usually always had someone in there interrupting his work.

It was nice to focus, but it was also a little lonely. This is what he wanted though. He needed this time to reflect, get back to himself, the man who was all about the music. He had started to become someone he didn't recognize. He couldn't stop thinking about how he was changing and how he didn't like the change. That's when his anxiety began to be more frequent, then the depression struck like a bolt of lightning. It came out of nowhere.

He knew his break would be hard on not only him but the group and the fans. It didn't help that Wonho was under fire for some things and announced his departure from the group. Jooheon knew they would both be back but they just needed some time. He had planned a short break, maybe a few weeks to clear his head and come back with some new amazing songs, but what he didn't know was that his break would end up being much longer due to one thing.

You.

You were a spitfire with an angelic face, and a hell of an attitude. You had a voice that could make anyone's jaw drop along with the confidence most wished they had.

The first time you and he met, he had come into the trainee room with Shownu to assess and help in any way they could. The moment he laid his eyes on you, he knew you were something special. He watched you laugh as you easily picked up the choreography that Shownu had been throwing around. His jaw dropped as you sang a requested song, your voice was amazing. His heart fluttered as you mastered a difficult rap on the first try.

You were a triple threat. You were dangerous but he knew he wanted more.

A few weeks later he had convinced the CEO of Starship to come down to the trainee room and see you. He knew you were ready to debut and once Kim Shidae saw you, he would know it too. Even in the presence of the CEO you still shined brightly like the star you were. You were amazing and Shidae knew it too.

That evening you were called into the boardroom where your training instructors sat, along with the CEO. Honestly, you were nervous that this was them telling you, you weren't good enough and they were going to be cutting you.

Nervously you sat down, your fingers fidgeting against the small amount of sweat on your palms. Normally you were extremely confident but a meeting like this doesn't just happen for no reason in your first year.

"Good afternoon Y/N. How are you today?" Shidae asked.

"I'm good sir, and you?" You reply, trying to force the lump in your throat away.

"I'm good, thanks." He responds, not looking you in the eyes but instead sifting through a pile of papers. "Now, the reason we called you here is because I reviewed your progress today."

"Just me?" You ask.

"Yes just you. Someone whose instincts I trust told me I needed to see you and so I did." He says, looking up at you. His face was neutral. He didn't look happy nor upset. This was making you feel extremely uneasy.

"Okay.." you say, taking in a very deep breath.

"We all firmly believe that you are done as a trainee." He tells you, interlocking his fingers and now looking you in the eyes.

Your heart sank, they were kicking you out. You truly thought you were doing fine, maybe even better than fine. Why was this happening?

"Was it something.." you begin before being cut off.

"We would like to start promoting you and getting you ready for a solo debut." He smiles.

Your jaw drops. They were going to debut you, only almost a year into being a trainee.

"I.. wow.. I'm.. " you stutter, unable to form other words.

"Your first single, we want it to be noticed and gain traction. So we've arranged you to have a rapper on your track to get it out there better. We have no doubt you're going to do amazing things." He tells you.

"Thank you, thank you so much. I'll work hard. Who will I be working with?" You inquire.

"Go to studio four and you'll see." He smiles.

Your wobbly legs take you from the room and into the hallway where you try to catch your breath. This was the last thing you had ever expected to happen.

While you were making your way to the studio, there was only 1 person you wanted to call and share your good news with.

Jiyong.

It's hard going from having that someone you can share anything with, to out of nowhere losing them. Losing your best friend, and your lover.

You shook it off as you stood outside studio four, wondering who could be on the other side. Your hand reaches for the door knob, you turn it, slowly opening the door. You see a man sitting with his back facing you, bobbing his head to a beat. You clear your throat, letting him know you were there. The music stops and he turns around.

Jooheon. Lee Jooheon of Monsta X was going to rap on your very first single.

You thought you were going to faint.

You had been a huge fan of Monsta X since their debut and thought that Jooheon was one of the best rappers in the industry currently.

"Oh my.. um hi." You nervously laugh, reaching your hand out.

"Hi Y/N. It's nice to finally meet you." Jooheon smiles, ignoring your hand and pulling you in for a hug instead. "I'm a big fan." He smiles, letting you go.

"You? You are a fan of mine?" You ask, shocked.

He laughs. "Of course. Shownu and I were only supposed to be there that one day." He admits.

"But you were there for weeks?" You say, raising your eyebrow.

"Because of you." He admits, a blush spreading across his face. "Your talent is amazing, you're beautiful and honestly I was and still am mesmerized by you. I think you're going to go far." He admits.

"Wow." You laugh. "Thank you. Well I'm also a huge fan. Have been since No Mercy." You smile.

"Oh god, let's avoid that conversation." He laughs. "So.. here what I was thinking for the song.."

A few weeks later you were ready. The song you and Jooheon created was done and amazing. The choreography was done and mastered. Your music video with him was finished and was dropping at midnight.

You were terrified. Starship and Jooheon, as well as you had been promoting and teasing parts of the song for so long, trying to get people excited about you.

And so far the response was amazing. So many people had already decided to support you without even hearing your song.

You and Jooheon sat nervously in front of his laptop in his dorm, waiting for it to drop. The two of you watched the clock count down each minute closer to midnight, making your stomach's knots become tighter.

At midnight you received the notification.

Y/N ft. Jooheon - Vibe

Within seconds you noticed the likes, views and comments flooding in.

'Omg love her!'

'This is amazing. I love her and Jooheon together!'

'Amazing song.'

You couldn't believe how many people liked the song that you and Jooheon worked so hard on. So many people are sending you positive and congratulatory messages, including someone you no longer wanted to hear from.

'I'm so proud of you. I miss you. Call me.'

You couldn't understand why he chose now to reach out to you. Now that you had finally debuted but not while you were a trainee.

You deleted the message.

No matter how much you tried to ignore his advances, Jiyong would not stop calling or texting you. Begging and pleading for you to call him back. You were trying to move on, and move on with Jooheon who had expressed quite a bit of interest in you, and you felt the same.

But Jiyong just couldn't let you be happy.

Finally when he called again, you answered this time.

"What?" You snap.

"Is that how you greet your boyfriend?" He chuckles.

"Ex boyfriend, who cheated on me. So yeah that's how you're greeted. So again, what?" You snap again.

"Listen, it was a mistake. I deeply regret my actions and I want to make it up to you." He sighs. "Please let me try."

You couldn't control your laughter. "What happened? Did Jae-In leave you? Is that why you're reaching out now? Or is it because I've finally debuted and you're craving being in the spotlight?" You ask. "Actually, don't answer because I don't actually give a fuck Jiyong. Stop calling me. Stop texting me. Leave me alone." You finish before hanging up the phone.

You hoped that would be the end of it.

You were wrong.

He continued to call you and text you. You blocked his number to prove that you were serious but he just continued from different numbers.

A few days later, the calls had lessened a little but not by much. You were getting more agitated but not enough to tell Jooheon about it. The two of you were a fresh friendship leading into being a couple, you didn't want to mess it up by complaining that your ex boyfriend wouldn't leave you alone. That was too much baggage to dump on him.

He still found out anyways. The two of you were sitting in his studio messing around with some lyrics and beats when your phone rang again.

"You sure you don't want to get that?" He asks.

"I'm positive." You sigh.

"You can talk to me if you want. I hope you know that." He says with a smile.

You sighed, fighting an internal battle. You wanted him to know about your psycho ex but was it too early?

No. But your mouth blabbed about it anyways, against your will.

"It's my ex." You begin. "He's been non stop calling and texting me since I debuted." You say, beginning to feel relieved.

"You broke up with him recently?" Jooheon asks.

"2.5 months into being a trainee.. I went to surprise him at our old shared house before I moved out.. he had the neighbor girl riding his face when I walked in." You explain. Now talking about it, it didn't hurt anymore. Not like it used too. "So I hadn't spoken to him in like a year and then I debuted and he tried to hit me up and hasn't stopped. I've told him to stop, blocked his number but he keeps getting new ones to continue, it's exhausting." You say, throwing your head back in annoyance.

"I can imagine. I'm sorry you have to deal with this." He partially smiles. "But at least you don't have to deal with it alone."

"I don't?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.

"No baby girl, you don't." He smirks, standing up from his chair. "You've got me now." He whispers, leaning over you as you sit in your chair still.

"I thought we were just friends?" You smirk.

"No no. You know I want to be more than friends." He smiles. You stand up, walking away from him moving to the soundboard.

"We should be working." You whisper.

"We could.. or we could do something a little more fun?" He suggests from behind you, pressing himself and his hard cock against you.

You and Jooheon attended a showcase, not together but you talked as friends in front of people. You weren't ready to come out and announce your relationship. Especially since you were so new, you knew his fans would make it seem like you were only after him for exposure.

You weren't. You really really liked him.

A few days later, you and Jooheon performed your new song at a Showcase, and the positive feedback the two of you got was completely amazing.

As the showcase ended you left alone, making your way through the crowd of fans that hung out at the door waiting to see their favorite celebrities. You feel a hand on your wrist pulling you closer to the crowd. Looking up you're met with the familiar face of Jaein, Jiyong's girlfriend. Her grip on your wrist tightens as she glares into your eyes.

"Stay the fuck away from Jiyong. You had your chance and now he's mine so back off." She snaps through gritted teeth. "Understand?"

She let's go of your wrist, shoving you to continue walking. You see the stares and the whispers of other idols who witnessed the incident. You stop and turn to face her, pissed off because you're not the one doing anything.

"How about you tell your man to stop calling me. Clearly your pussy isn't satisfying enough." You snap, now walking away to your van, while listening in the distance to the people praising your comeback.

The next day you were sitting in your studio, your head in your hands as you rubbed your temple. Jiyong was driving you fucking crazy. He had texted you off and on for the majority of the night.

What did you say to Jae-In?

She says she hates you

If you tell me to leave her, I will right now.

You wanted to scream.

When you woke up this morning, you had 27 missed calls from him. On your way to the studio he tried calling again. You wished you could just throw your phone out the window but unfortunately you couldn't risk someone getting a hold of it. So you turned it off, making it so no one could reach you. There was a weird sense of relief that came along in disconnecting from your phone. It was almost freeing.

"You okay?" You hear from behind you, a voice that could melt your heart and make you smile anytime.

Jooheon.

"Yes.. no." You sigh. "Crazy ex and crazy ex's girlfriend." You say, turning your chair around to face him.

"I heard about your little altercation with her." Jooheon laughs. "That comeback was fire, babe." He laughs. "There's a video. Everyone is saying she looks psychotic. And they're all praising you." He smiles.

"I feel kinda bad, but like I'm not trying to get him back. I don't want his toxic ass." You laugh.

"Good. That's good." Jooheon says.

"Why's that good?" You ask, just joking with him.

"Because I want you. And I don't want you to want anyone else." Jooheon says with a serious face.

"Well, lucky for you, I don't want anyone else. Just you." You smirk.

"And how do you want me?" You ask.

"Emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I want all of you." He answers, licking his lips.

You knew this was a dangerous game you were playing. You hadn't been sure in the past if you wanted to sleep with him yet or not, but the way you were playing now,not was setting up I for just that and surprisingly you were okay with it.

"How do you want me physically?" You ask, tilting your head to the side.

"Stand up and I'll show you." He smiles. You stand to walk towards him. Once you reach him he immediately attaches his lips onto yours, guiding his tongue into your mouth without hesitation. You moan into the kiss as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer.

Jooheon turns himself around, his lips still on yours as he moves backwards to sit in the chair, motioning for you to climb onto his lap and straddle him.

You'd never been so happy to wear a skirt.

You begin to rock your hips back and forth, grinding your already wet pussy onto his growing hard cock.

“Oh baby, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to even just kiss you." He mumbles, his lips still close to yours.

Jooheon breaks the kiss, moving his head down to kiss your jawline, before moving down to your neck as you continue to slowly grind yourself on top of him. You throw your head back with a low moan escaping from your throat. Jooheon smirks at how little it takes to make you into a puddle. He slides you from his lap, leaving you standing in front of him with a pout on your lips, thinking he's stopping the fun here

“Don’t pout baby." He chuckles. He grabs your hand and takes you to the sound board, motioning for you to sit on there.

"Are you sure?" You ask, a small giggle escaping your lips.

"I want to record your moans." Jooheon smirks.

He wiggles in between your legs, giving you a small quick kiss on your lips before moving slowly down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. He unclasps your bra, throwing it to the side before cupping your perky breast and latching his lips to your nipple, sucking hard.

“Oh god" you cry now, feeling your clit throb, desperately needing some kind of touch. “Please." you beg.

"Of course." Jooheon smiles, pressing the record button before spreading your legs wide.

Jooheon kneels down, moving your panties to the side before spreading your lips with his fingers.

He leans in licking a long slow strip up your pussy, causing you to melt in pleasure. He wraps his lips around your clit sucking harshly. Seconds later he let's go, before flicking it with this tongue, making you squirm beneath him.

“You taste amazing.” He says before licking you again, licking up your juices.

Jooehon pauses for a second, before sucking on your clit again, this time with zero intentions of stopping and teasing you.

“Fuck yes, oh my god" you cry out, one hand resting on the the board, the other one gripping his blonde hair tightly. “Please don’t stop" you beg, feeling your orgasm approaching quickly.

Jooheon quickened his pace, his tongue moving around your clit sporadically. You grip his hair tighter as you cum all over his face. "Mhmm." He groans, releasing your clit to lick up the mess you made on your thighs.

“That was so fucking hot" he growled, standing up to pull his pants down.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks, before yanking them down.

“Don’t worry, I’m on birth control" you huff. You watch him pull his pants, along with his boxers down, letting his long, thick cock spring free. You gulp as you stare at the large muscle, more excited now than ever.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll go slow.. maybe.” he smiles, pumping himself a few times before lining himself up with you.

He steps towards you, helping you place your legs over his shoulders, giving him better access to your pussy.

Jooheon slowly pushed his large cock into you, causing you to cry out and moan in pleasure as he stretched you beyond belief. Your hands grip the board so tightly your knuckles begin to turn white.

Jooheon fully thrusts into you, filling you up completely.

“Fuck your pussy is so tight” he groans, pulling out of you half way before slamming himself back into you.

“Your cock feels so fucking good" you cry out.

Jooheon throws his head back as he thrusts himself into you over and over again. You can feel your cum seeping out of you, coating his cock, and the surface beneath you.

Jooheon continues to grunt as he rams his cock inside of you, hitting your G spot every time.

“Please don’t stop. Play with my clit" you beg needing to cum again. He takes his hand from your leg, placing it in-between your thighs and rubs his thumb over your clit.

“Oh fuck" you cry out, grinding yourself in sync with his thrusts.

“I think I’m going to cum" you moan.

Jooheon's thumb works furiously, bringing your orgasm quicker. “Shit" you cry out, your body begins to tremble as it washes through your body. Your eyes roll back as extremely loud moans leave your mouth.

“Fuck baby" he moans, ramming himself into you, chasing his high now. “Shit I’m going to cum" he cries out. Jooheon reaches up, wrapping his large hand around your neck as he cums inside of you.

The two of you remain there for a second, catching your breath. Right before Jooheon is able to pull himself out of you, the door to the studio opens widely and with a slam.

Jiyong angrily walks in, having troubles comprehending the compromising position he had caught you in.

"What are you doing to the love of my life?" He scoffs, staring at Jooheon.

"Fuck off Jiyong." You spit, pulling Jooheon closer to you.

"Oh this is him?" Jooheon asks, a humorous smile appearing on his face.

"Yeah I'm him. You know, her husband." Jiyong scoffs.

"Husband?" Jooheon asks, looking at your unimpressed face.

"Oh my god. It's not even legal. We got 'married' in Vegas and he won't leave it alone." You explain.

"Actually I checked, and it's very legal." Jiyong smirks. "You're my wife."

You sit there, staring at Jiyong for a moment before whispering "shit."

What do you do now?

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