#Like he’s clearly trying his best but it’s like basic instructions leave his brain after 5 seconds | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugaxjpg · 4 years ago

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ghosts just wanna have fun; m

⤷ When Jungkook discovered that he could communicate with dead people, the last thing he expected was that they would be there to give him romantic advice.

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Psychic!AU & MedSchool!AU

✓ Filed under: fluff, crack (so many ghost puns), light smut (and jungkook being a nervous virgin)

✓ Words: 20,062

Author’s Note: In which Jungkook is able to see spirits, but it’s just Taehyung and Yoongi giving him dating tips because he sucks at talking to girls. Hope you guys like it, because it has been on my WIPS for over a year and a half and I can’t believe it’s finally out there... emotional, really.

Also, huge thanks to @storytaeme, who proof-read this mess like a champ.

There aren’t many embarrassing situations that can overcome the fact that Jeon Jungkook found out about his psychic abilities as he was about to lose his virginity.

To say the least, that hadn’t been the most pleasant of scenarios to open the pathway to the afterlife. Really, there was no casual way that he could justify the scream that broke from his lips, or the dramatic spin he took as he turned around on the bed — which, ultimately, had him falling into the small space between the nightstand and the wall, with his legs up in the air, and his butthole fully exposed for both planes of existence to see.

Still, that hadn’t been the worst part. If those two pallid silhouettes had merely disappeared once he had seen them, it wouldn’t have been as traumatic — perhaps Jungkook could have found a semi-believable excuse about what he had witnessed — but no. Not only did the ghosts remain there, with their arms crossed before their achromatic clothes and eyebrows slightly raised in expectation, they continued their conversation as if nothing had happened.

“Oh, he was definitely going to put it in the wrong hole,” the shorter of the two murmured, clearly entertained at the idea.

The other scoffed. “What if he did?” he threw back. “Maybe he likes that, we can’t judge.”

Truth was that, one way or another, Jungkook couldn’t even figure out what he liked — he didn’t even get the chance. He was gone from his (ex) girlfriend’s place before his brain could even attempt to construct a plausible explanation, even less to digest what had preceded that unfortunate revelation. Now, the wrong hole would forever be a source of trauma for him.

And the problems didn’t exactly stop there. Ever since his cherry-popping session was interrupted, Jungkook hadn’t been able to move further than the first base, thinking that he would embarrass himself all over again or, worse, be frightened by a random demon passing by. Also, the constant mockery of his ghostly counterparts certainly didn’t help his concentration.

The worst part? Helping Jungkook was kind of their whole point. And they couldn’t even do that right.

Taehyung and Yoongi were their names — they told him right after the first night he saw them. Jungkook didn’t know what had happened in the afterlife that they had been punished with such a horrendous mission and, frankly, at that point, he was too afraid to ask.

“But I don’t need your help,” Jungkook had said after one particularly bad date, dramatically throwing himself onto his bed. The furniture creaked under his weight and he wondered if it would snap before his mind did. “I just want you to leave me alone or, I don’t know, help me with something else — something useful.”

The two ghosts were by his desk, looking at his class notes and, at that comment, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Useful? Like what?” He asked.

“I don’t know, solving crimes or something,” Jungkook mumbled, turning around so he would face the wall. God, he just needed two seconds alone.

Behind him, Taehyung laughed. “You don’t even know how to open a bra, and you're out there thinking of reopening cold cases? Give me a break.”

“Ouch,” Jungkook whispered. Maybe another time, it would’ve hurt his pride a bit more. That night, however, he was too tired to care. “For your information, I do know how to open a bra. You two just started whispering and it distracted me.”

“We were whispering to you the instructions on how to open a bra,” Yoongi responded. “Would you need those if you knew what you were doing? No.”

Jungkook sighed. “I just—”

“This conversation is done, we went over this already.” Yoongi interrupted. “You need us, whether you want it or not. You’re painfully bad at romance, Jungkook, even worse at initiating sex. I’ve never seen something like that before.”

At that, Jungkook rolled on the bed and faced them. There was only one light in his bedroom that was on — the table lamp — and its clear orange shade passed through them both in an odd mixture of contours and lines. “Maybe if I could do it myself, without you two buzzing around the place, it wouldn’t be so bad,” he responded, aggressive.

“Calm down. You were already bad enough when we arrived,” Taehyung told him, leaning over to see all the scattered pages on his desk. He frowned once he saw something he couldn’t quite understand, and quickly turned away from it. “Nothing changed much.”

“Right!” Jungkook sat up on the bed. “Isn’t that enough of a sign for you two to stop trying to help me, then?”

“No,” Yoongi said calmly. “That’s a sign that we have to try harder. And so do you.”

He sneered. “I absolutely don’t.”

“Yes, you absolutely do,” he said. “You know what? Grab your phone and get yourself a date with that girl you like from physiology class. Two weeks from now.”

There was a second of silence as Jungkook’s mind struggled to piece the idea together. He wasn’t even sure about who Yoongi was referring to, there were a lot of girls in his class. “What? Why?”

“Just trust us. She’s into you,” Yoongi spoke.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’ll work out.”

Jungkook scoffed. “When does it, really?”

“This time, it will,” Taehyung said. “Really. Do it.”

“Fine.” He breathed out, reaching for his phone. “What girl?”

Yoongi looked him up and down. “You know what girl.”

With a deep breath, Jungkook scrolled over his contact list, struggling to find someone that he would have even the slightest chance with. Truth was, he has no fucking clue of which one of the hundred and fifty people in his class would even look in his direction, much less go on a date with him.

“You do know… right?�� Taehyung asked, clearly worried. “We can’t really give you names, but you… know, right?”

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah! Sure I do!” Jungkook laughed nervously, clicking on a random name and opening a chat. “Here, I’m sending her a text right now. No reason to worry… no reason at all.”

“Good,” Yoongi said, distracted. “Now, if you need us, we’ll be watching Gone Girl with your neighbors. We already missed the start of the movie, and I’m pissed off as it is.”

Taehyung nodded. “Amazing movie,” he said. Jungkook pressed send and prayed for the best. “We should have more movie nights over here.”

Yoongi said something in agreement and, in a second, they were already gone. Jungkook was left alone in his bedroom, with the light of his lamp casting over his features the desperation that he was feeling inside.

“This better work,” he mumbled to himself. “You two better not be trying to embarass me.”

_____________

And then, two weeks later, Yoongi and Taehyung were laughing at him as his last failed attempt at romance got up from her chair and basically ran away from him.

Yoongi leaned back against the chair, his ankles crossed over the large table. If someone else could see him then, he surely would have received a few complaints about keeping the mall under semi-sanitary conditions. “Jungkook, I’ll tell you something,” he started, clearly amused. “You’re so bad at romance that I wish I was alive just so I could punch some reason into you.”

Taehyung, who had stayed mostly quiet during the painfully awkward interaction, walked beside Jungkook and chuckled at his distress. Still, he was focused on the other ghost, and the implication of his speech. “That amount of violence is the exact reason why you’re no longer alive, Yoongi,” he pointed out, then turned to Jungkook before he could smirk at the reprehension. “But really, that was awful. If I weren’t spiritually tied to you, I would’ve given up by now. You’re hopeless.”

“Completely out of it,” Yoongi added. “Do you even know how women work?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, and reached for his phone: there was no way he would enter a discussion with those invisible pricks in a public situation without something to mask it. Not that it would have been the first time.

Yoongi materialized on the seat next to Jungkook, his head leaning against his hand. The boy was already used to those sudden changes of position, but that didn’t mean that he liked it. In fact, after Taehyung had appeared next to him during a particularly bad time — in which the incognito tab had already been opened, and a bottle of lotion already waited for him — he could never erase the intense panic of such experiences.

But of course, Yoongi knew that, and he used his discomfort for his own entertainment. “You can’t ignore us, kiddo,” he said slowly, clearly amused. “And you can’t ignore the fact that you’ll die alone, surrounded by cats, if you don’t start listening to what we have to say. We have been tied to you for a reason.”

“And the reason,” Taehyung added, “is to make you stop cockblocking yourself.”

With a subdued groan, Jungkook pressed his phone against his ear — an old trick that allowed for him to have a conversation without being seen as clinically insane by passersby. “You two are the reason why this date went downhill,” he told them. “You told me to say all the wrong things. You two set this up knowing I’d fail.”

“Oh, no.” Taehyung shook his head in disagreement. “The words were right. Your delivery was awful.”

“Western-movie-awful,” Yoongi added. “And if you want to change that, you have to trust us.”

“Trust you? Where has that taken me?” Jungkook questioned, irritated. “You’re the reason why I lost my first girlfriend and haven’t had another one ever since.”

Yoongi chuckled. “The girl from the first night? She never talked to you again after that, did she?” He asked, but, of course, he already knew the answer. “Damn, that was cringe-worthy. Butt in the air and everything.”

“No need to remind me, I was there.” Jungkook clenched his jaw, trying to control his demeanor. It wasn’t fair that there was not much that he could do to make the two men shut up — since they were, quite literally, already dead, he didn’t have many threats to utter. “And whose fault was that?”

“Technically, yours.” Taehyung shrugged. “We didn’t present ourselves to you, you just saw us all of a sudden. We were just as surprised.”

“Besides, you were the one that had the B.F.,” Yoongi added.

Jungkook raised one eyebrow. “B.F.?”

“Bitch fit,” Taehyung elucidated. “He watched White Chicks with your neighbors last night, don’t worry about it.”

Jungkook groaned, pressing his hand against his face. Of course — the cherry on top would be outdated pop references, as expected. Yoongi had always been quite fond of the classic ‘with great power comes great responsibility’, and Jungkook thought that the overuse of that quote would be the ultmost reason for his insanity. Nevertheless, he came to understand that it was nothing compared to movies like White Chicks or even Legally Blonde. He would rather hear Uncle Ben’s famous line a billion times over before Yoongi accused him of having a B.F. once more.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the environment around him. The murmurs and disembodied conversations around the mall had morphed into the sound of irritating insects, and he felt as if the earth could just open up and eat him alive. He probably committed a terrible crime in a past life to be stuck with Tweedledee and Tweedledum like that.

“Anyways,” Jungkook stressed, “it didn’t seem like the two of you were surprised that I could see you. You just kept… talking about me. And my ass.”

Taehyung chuckled. “You were the one with the ass up in the air.” He vanished, then materialized in the seat in front of Jungkook. “What were we supposed to do? Ignore it?”

“It was an easy target,” Yoongi spoke, then seemed to realize the words that had left his mouth. “Wait, I didn’t mean the double interpretation.”

“Why can’t the two of you just fucking help me for once?” Jungkook asked aggressively. In a nearby table, one old man raised his eyes from his vegan burger and stared the boy up and down in disapproval. Jungkook lowered his voice and switched his phone to the other ear. “This is unbearable. You two are only making it worse.”

With a gesture that Jungkook knew all too well, Taehyung used his thumb to point over his shoulder, towards the path that his failed date had followed. “That one wasn’t good enough for you,” he said nonchalantly. “We can tell. We know stuff.”

“Then why did you set this up in the first place?” He asked, exasperated.

“As DJ Khaled says, you played yourself,” Yoongi cited. One more reference and Jungkook would be the one joining the world of the dead. “It’s not our fault that you get nervous and can’t deliver the lines right. When have the two of us ever failed?”

“When you died,” he spoke back. “Or did you forget the stupid mistake you made?”

Yoongi hesitated. As much as he tried to play it cool, he wasn’t the smartest one around. In fact, his tragically premature death was all the evidence Jungkook needed to make his point clear.

During his living days, Yoongi was pretty invested in rock climbing. On a beautiful summer afternoon, just as the sun was setting over the green-bathed hills, one of his friends dared him to bungee jump from the same cliff they had just climbed, and were standing on. Of course, the man agreed promptly, saying that he wouldn’t back out from such a mundane task; stating repeatedly that the fall wouldn’t be so high up anyway. But that wasn’t the turning point: Min Yoongi, in all his adventurousness, quickly decided that his local shop was too expensive and that he would create his own bungee jump cord instead.

According to him, making the cord proved itself to be quite an easy task. He had gotten some help from his local adrenaline addicts and the final product was a very good copy of the factory-made ones. He measured the cliff twice just to be certain, compared it to the rope, and made sure to test the sustentation and elasticity as many times as he could.

Still, Yoongi had overlooked an imperative detail: he shouldn’t use a cord that was the same height as the cliff he was jumping from.

Needless to say, he only realized his mistake once he was already dead.

Yoongi scoffed at the memory, ignoring his hurt pride. He swore he could still feel his back hurting when he thought about that. “That isn’t the point,” he said. He often did that: changed the subject once he realized he couldn’t leave with the upper hand. “The point is that you keep delivering lines like you’re a bad boy in a South American novela, then expect us to perform a miracle on you.”

Jungkook frowned, lowering his head. “That’s actually so wrong.”

But the problem was: Yoongi was right, and Jungkook knew it. In fact, that had been the exact reason why his date had left him that night — the boy had misunderstood Taehyung’s advice to play off as a mysterious man, and instead projected his image somewhere between a psychopath and a person that had only K-dramas as a basis of how human interactions were supposed to work. Jungkook missed his attempts at romance the entire time, but the breaking point was when Yoongi told him to act as a bad influence because, according to him, girls dig a good bad boy.

Once again, Yoongi wasn’t the brightest mind when it came to risk-taking. That was why he was more dead than Jungkook’s bedroom.

Jungkook, however, did not realize his own errors until it was too late. He had chuckled at his date’s embarrassment, using his opening to delicately place her hair behind her ear. “I’m going to tell you something,” he started, voice swift and placid as a river. With his eyebrows raised and his lips vaguely forming a pout, he looked like an off-brand version of Handsome Squidward. “I’m not really a good influence, and surely not the kind of guy you’d like to get with. So why don’t you do me a favor and follow the simple orders I give you, uh?”

Her eyes had widened in a mixture of second-hand embarrassment and fear. From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook saw her reaching for her purse over the table. “No, thank you,” she was quick to say. “I don’t think this will work, sorry. I’ll see you around college.”

And that’s how they ended at that point. The point they always seemed to end up in.

“I think I need a break from all of this,” Jungkook said, closing his eyes for a moment of peace. “I have a huge test next week and I couldn’t even study for it because of all the preparation for this stupid date. Can you two just take a step back? Just for a little while. Romance can’t be all that I think about.”

As he opened his eyes, he saw Taehyung staring at him. He couldn’t really read his expression.

And, without an answer, the two of them vanished.

_________________

If someone asked Jungkook why the hell he thought going to medical school was a good idea, he’d simply say that, at the time, it made sense. After all, he had thought, he’d be some sort of super-doctor, since he had an exclusive VIP pass to the afterlife — just imagine how many people he would be able to help just by asking a friendly ghost what was wrong with a patient. It would be a game-changer. He could even find the cure of cancer if he tried hard enough.

But of course, he quickly realized that he should’ve thought further about his decision. Maybe being a detective would have made much more sense — it would have been a lot cheaper, that’s for sure, and he wouldn’t have to sit through almost twelve hours of classes every single day for a diploma that seemed to be too far away for him to care.

That particular class, however, wasn’t the worst one out there.

It was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant Pathology. Jungkook loved that class because the professor hated teaching it, so the students had to sit in silence for about three hours trying to read the textbook by themselves. The professor said he would be there to answer any questions, but he was mostly scrolling through his phone and interrupting students every time they tried to ask him something — “That’s in the textbook, just keep reading.”

Most of his classmates absolutely despised that subject, but Jungkook thought it was wonderful: he often learned better by himself anyways, and the lack of conversation during class brought him some sense of peace. Besides, Yoongi and Taehyung hated sitting in that quiet room for too long, so they mostly left after ten or twenty minutes of trying — and failing — to strike up a conversation with Jungkook. It was the perfect day.

Well, most days it was.

Just as he was about to move forward to the next topic — Adrenal Insufficiency and Addison’s Disease — , the boy felt something poking his bicep and he was quick to turn to his side. Instantly, he recognized your expectant gaze and something fluttered inside his stomach.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning over your desk, “is tomorrow afternoon still up? I really need help in cardiac physiology. I kind of suck.”

He hummed in agreement, fighting against the nervousness that crept up on him. Jungkook’s palms started to sweat just by looking at you, he really was one step away from reverting back to his pre-teen days. “For sure. I’ll be at yours at five,” he managed to get out.

“Thank you so much,” you said, then moved back against your seat. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. If it had been anyone else, Jungkook would’ve had a stroke by then — after all, he wasn’t always invited to a girl’s place so easily. That’s someone that I have absolutely no chance with, he thought. So friendzoning himself made everything much easier. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet up at the library?”

“I can’t really concentrate there,” you answered. “But if you prefer, we could go.”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “Your place is fine.”

You smiled again, and Jungkook thought that maybe being shot wouldn’t hurt so much. “Thanks. See you at five.”

Jungkook nodded and turned around, facing his laptop. Just as he was about to restart typing his notes, he saw a known reflection at the corner of his computer. Oh, God, have mercy.

Yoongi’s reflection smirked from the back row. “Oh, man, she’s so into you.”

Jungkook shook his head in denial, eyes still glued to the PDF file in front of him. If anything, his classmates would have just guessed he was finding that subject more difficult than usual and, quite frankly, no one could judge him.

“No?” Yoongi raised one eyebrow, reappearing by his side with his hand supporting his cheek. Jungkook didn’t even need to look at him to know that he was just looooving the discomfort that grew inside his limbs. “I know those things, kiddo. It’s my job.”

From the front seat, Taehyung hummed in agreement. He had his arm placed over the chair, and seemed to find that entire situation a bit boring — maybe because he had seen it countless times before. “She definitely wants to get some of that,” he said. “We are proud of you, son.”

With a subdued sigh, Jungkook scribbled some aggressive words at the corner of his notebook, and showed it to the man by his side. “Look at this, Taehyung, he’s trying to convince us that they’re just friends,” Yoongi mocked, crossing his arms. “That’s cute. Just because you’re that oblivious, it doesn’t mean that we are.”

“Jungkook, we’ve been watching the two of you talk the entire semester,” Taehyung added. “Besides, Yoongi made me follow her around once. She’s definitely into you. In unholy ways.”

Yoongi nodded once again. “She wants to be your boo.”

“Was that a fucking ghost pun?” Taehyung’s nose cringed up in disgust, and Jungkook had to fight back the reflex of laughing at his reaction. “Awful.”

“At least I’m not the one who ghostwrote Jungkook’s ethics essay.” Yoongi threw back. “Yeah, and that was another pun. You’ve got no spirit.”

“You know what? Now I know why Jungkook can’t stand us anymore.” Taehyung smirked and, then and there, Jungkook knew exactly what was coming. “He can see right through us.”

The other ghost nodded. “Yeah, we’ve reached a dead end.”

Jungkook groaned in exasperation, hiding his face behind his hands. “This is torture.”

Next to him, you chuckled. “Come on, pathology isn’t even that bad. You’re good at this.”

“I know, I’m just tired.” He turned around to look at you, uttering the same excuse he had been using this entire semester. Not that it was an uncommon one, especially in the fifth circle of hell that was medical school. “I think I need to splash some cold water on my face. Wake myself up.”

You hesitated, staring at him as he stood up. Jungkook looked strangely pale, like he was about to throw up all over the classroom. “Is everything okay?”

Fantastic! My bachelor ghosts are just making me have a nervous breakdown.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” He said, almost stumbling over your chair. Some of your pens fell down, but Jungkook couldn’t even bring himself to get them. He’d probably just knock everything else over in the process, and he wasn’t even sure that he could stand back up after. “Shit— Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

Behind him, Yoongi chuckled. “Spook-tacular skills, as always.”

_____________

The sound of running water was all that entered Jungkook’s mind for a moment, his face feeling the coldness of the liquid as he splashed himself once, twice, trying to clear his thoughts. In the end, it was mostly in vain: his class was ruined, his notes were left unfinished, and he couldn’t get a second of tranquility anymore — not even in Pathology. If he weren’t canonized after his death, he would file a complaint for sure.

Abruptly, he closed off the faucet and the water stopped running. There was a heavenly instant of quietness, in which Jungkook followed the crystalline droplets falling from his hair to the sink, before Yoongi’s voice echoed behind him. “How you doin’, champ?”

Jungkook sighed and raised his head, looking at his ghost counterpart through the dirty mirror. “Is the bathroom empty?” he asked calmly.

“Hm? Yeah,” Yoongi said. “The ghost is clear.”

Just like that, his serenity was gone. “Yoongi, can you fucking stop? Your puns stopped being funny after the third attempt,” Jungkook asked, exasperated. He pulled some paper towels, and got even angrier at the way they fell apart in his hands. Good to know his college money was being used wisely. “Jesus. Where is Taehyung?”

“You know he hates toilet paper,” Yoongi told him. “Reminds him of his death.”

Jungkook considered the compelling idea of banging his head against the bathroom wall until he, himself, was part of the world of the dead. As he recalled very well, Taehyung had been a victim of Final-Destination-levels of misfortune: just because he had forgotten to take toilet paper to his camping trip, the boy had been forced to use nearby leaves. Those, as he would soon come to understand, caused an awful allergy on his lower lands, and the punctual bleeding was a sufficient opening for opportunistic diseases. The culprit? Some super strange bacteria that floated around the river. He was dead less than twenty hours after he came back home from septic shock.

Taehyung had endured, quite frankly, one shitty death. And, yes, Yoongi had made that joke a few too many times before.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jungkook realized. “What did I tell you two about chit-chatting with me in large public places? Especially my classes? I have to pay attention. And I have a test in two days, I need to be all here, and not thinking about other people.”

Yoongi giggled — almost childishly so — at the other’s anguished attitude. His teeth, a pallid shade of white, could barely be seen against the olive-green tiles that covered the bathroom walls. “You weren’t paying attention to the processes of intestinal inflammation, that’s for sure,” he teased, forcing himself to hold back his jokes a bit.

“I wasn’t even studying that chapter,” Jungkook mumbled.

Even Yoongi, who had a dense personality for such a diaphanous soul, could tell that the student was not in the mood for mockery. “Man, why are you so stuck-up? Taehyung and I are ghosts, but you’re the one with the dead sense of humor.”

Jungkook realized he needed a moment to think before he started yelling at nothing in a public bathroom. He really hoped the other stalls were empty, but he couldn’t be bothered to check.

“This isn’t about the puns. You two just don’t respect my privacy,” Jungkook said. This time, he was able to pull some good paper towels and proceeded to dry his face. “This has been going on for too long. Why don’t you two just vanish for some time?”

“Wish I could, kiddo, but I’ve got hours to clock,” Yoongi finally admitted. From the mirror, he could see the frown of confusion that was cast over Jungkook’s features. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m only following rules. Talk to the big guy upstairs if you want to complain.”

He threw the paper on the trash and shook his head in confusion. “I just don’t see the point of any of this.”

“You don’t have to.” Yoongi took a step closer. He often looked so unbothered — the two of them, actually — that Jungkook caught himself wondering which certainties they held, notions that would most likely be given after death. “Just do what we tell you to do.”

“That has only embarrassed me so far,” he said, turning around. “I don’t think I have it in me to trust in you two one more time. It has gotten me nowhere. Or, rather, nowhere good.”

Yoongi sighed. “Alright, let’s do it like this, then: You go and help Y/N with her cardio whatever stuff, and Taehyung and I just watch. We promise to shut up, unless you’re doing something seriously embarrassing. Other than that, absolute silence.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “You promise you two won’t tell me what to say?”

“Promise.” Yoongi nodded. He looked very sincere. “We won’t talk to you.”

“I can live with that, yeah,” Jungkook agreed, leaning against the bathroom sink. “Sounds good.”

“Perfect.” He smiled. “Trust me, Jungkook. I only made one mistake in my life.”

Jungkook smirked. “And it killed you.”

“Not the point.” He raised one finger, clearly annoyed, then pointed it at Jungkook. “You’ll do great. It’s not like you’re gonna tell her about us or something.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’d be awful.”

________________

But that was, ultimately, what he did.

To be fair, it was never Jungkook’s intention. He was completely sure that it would ruin not only his friendship with you, as it would also ruin his reputation, both as a student and as a future physician. Come on, how would he even explain that? How could he tell anyone that he not only saw two obnoxious ghosts, but that they were there to give him romantic (and sometimes sexual) advice? That’s insanity.

Spoiler: he didn’t explain it very well.

In the cosmic perspective, however, it was kind of Yoongi’s fault too. He had the problem of giving away too much sometimes, especially when he was alone and free from Taehyung’s scrutiny. And it was that extra bit of information that catalyzed the explosion that would become Jungkook’s confession.

For some reason or another, Taehyung hadn’t joined the two of them that day, as Jungkook crossed the campus towards your place. For the first time in a long time, their conversation — which was, again, masked by Jungkook pretending to be on the phone — was actually quite pleasant. Yoongi had told him a bit more about his life back in the day and explained that he was studying to become a lawyer when he died.

“I was thinking of dropping out anyways,” he said. “I just picked a random thing to study because I didn’t know what I wanted to do. And, well, I kind of did drop off. Just not from the course.”

Jungkook could not help but laugh at the absurdness of it all. Sad coincidences aside, it was unusual for Yoongi to make jokes about his death. Taehyung was much more open about it, but Yoongi seemed to be very bitter because of the way and the time he passed. But of course, who was Jungkook to judge?

“You know,” Yoongi started after a moment of quietude. “Taehyung and I were pretty surprised that day at the mall.”

Jungkook frowned. “Hm? Why is that?”

The other man chuckled. “Honestly? Because you’re dumber than we thought.”

Seems like pleasant times didn’t last much between the two of them. “We’ve established that I can’t talk to girls, Yoongi, I know.” Jungkook really wanted to change the subject.

“No, not that,” he denied. “Let’s go back a little. Remember what we told you in your bedroom that night? To get the physiology girl.”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi laughed, amazed that Jungkook still didn’t get it. “You called the wrong one, idiot,” he explained.

“What?” Jungkook paused in his tracks and, in a mindless reflex, forgot he was supposed to be talking on the phone, and looked directly at Yoongi, lowering the device away from his ear. “There is a right one?”

“Hey, pay attention to your surroundings.” Yoongi pointed at a couple that also stopped, confused at the man’s actions. Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure after that minor instant of public humiliation, and placed the phone back against his ear. “Let’s keep walking.”

With his heart beating insanely fast against his chest, Jungkook did as he was told. His mind was flooded with fragmented thoughts, working around words that seemed so simple, yet held so much.

“Yes, there is a right one — and you’re going towards her right now.” Yoongi responded, placing his ghostly hands inside his ghostly pockets. Jungkook never noticed that he still used the clothes that he had on when he died, but Yoongi wouldn’t be the first one to mention. “So don’t make a fool out of yourself. Not this time.”

Jungkook swallowed dry, feeling as panic started to climb up his lower limbs, weighing down on his muscles. His throat was dry as a desert and forming sentences proved to be a far more difficult task than he had anticipated. The air around campus had suddenly become hot for an autumn day, unable to enter his lungs with ease. He really was two steps away from a full-blown anxiety attack.

Yoongi frowned. “You good?”

Jungkook licked his lips, only half aware of his actions. “Y-Yeah,” he struggled to get out. “Just kind of a bomb that you just dropped on me, that’s all.”

Yoongi nodded, uninterested. “Yeah. Get over it. It’s not a huge deal.”

Only, it was. For Jungkook, at least. What if you two were… you know? Meant to be? Like the soulmates kind of thing; star-crossed lovers. Like in the “we got married after two months of dating and we are still together after sixty years” kind of insane love? That was a lot to process, a lot to think about, especially when he was having like three different crises at once. It was a recipe for a disaster.

Jungkook really was dumb when it came to anything besides his textbooks, but not for jumping into those conclusions. Frankly, most people would’ve been a bit overwhelmed by that.

No, his problem would reside on his next thought: If you two were meant to be, you would understand if, for some reason, he had to tell you about his ghosts, right?

Right?

_______________

To be fair with Yoongi, he did keep his promise. The two didn’t interrupt your conversation once, even if sometimes the moment begged for it, and Jungkook was two words away from ruining everything. Strangely enough, things seemed to work themselves out — the horrible jokes that Jungkook uttered seemed to suit your sense of humor; the shy and nervous demeanor that plagued his dates slowly melted away. It was good — in fact, it was the best talk he’s had with someone in a long, long time.

The issue was that, as much as the two of them didn’t talk directly to Jungkook, they still talked.

“What was that thing that she said, you know, to her friends?” Yoongi mumbled, his words coming out as a vague connection of syllables being formed at the corner of his mouth. He had his arms crossed, and his legs pushed up on the couch. “You told me that.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung took a moment to think. He had one of his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his white pants, and the other on the back of the couch. The two of them watched the conversation that unfolded above your living room table, the two of you trying to make sense of a subject that seemed to change every five minutes. “It was like ‘homeboy can like, get it’... or something.”

Yoongi nodded, satisfied. “Nice.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, trying to ignore that comment. It wasn’t news that you were interested in him — that had been the only thing Yoongi and Taehyung had told him for the past few hours, but it was very, very awkward to know those specific details. He was sure he wouldn’t like you to know the private conversations that he had with his friends, even less about the things he thought about when he was alone. There was something extremely violating about that, but, no matter how hard he tried to convince them, the two ghosts didn’t seem to care enough to stop.

The giggle that came from across the table ruptured his thoughts. “Why are you blushing?” You asked.

“I’m… uh…” he struggled, suddenly feeling the heat that emanated from his cheeks. Wonderful. Even when he was just thinking about something, he still managed to make a fool of himself. “Just… thinking about some embarrassing things I did in third grade. The usual.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there.” You smiled, reaching for the textbook across the table, and flipping through the pages. “I ruined this entire science project once. It was something about the pollination of flowers, but I missed that class. Ended up coming back to a lot of roses around the classroom, and decided to take a few of them home to my mom.”

“Oh no.”

“Yep,” you nodded, looking back at him. Jungkook thought that he had lost himself in your eyes for a moment, a depth so engulfing that he couldn’t find the right words once he stared at it. He had never noticed how beautiful you were — or, rather, he had, but he had never stopped to think about it — and, now, it seemed as if that was the only thing that he could focus on. “Everyone in class was super pissed, the teacher even tried to suspend me.”

He shook his head, trying to imagine a mini-you justifying your flower thievery in front of the principal. “That’s insane, actually.”

“Kind of.” You shrugged, looking back at the book. You weren’t sure what you were searching for anymore, so you decided to close it. You two had been studying for almost four hours straight, you didn’t think that your brain could handle any more of that. “They didn’t really believe me when I told them it was a mistake. Guess no one even noticed my absence the day before, which is… somehow… even worse, now that I think about it.”

A giggle reverberated in your throat as you dove into those forgotten memories, and Jungkook followed you.

“Don’t laugh at child me, that’s so cruel.” You smiled.

“I’m not.” He shook his head. “I just thought you were cute. Still are, you never really stopped being cute, I mean. You’re actually really pretty now, like a woman—”

“I got it.” You placed your hands over his, and the shock of your skin against his seemed to spread throughout his entire body. He didn’t know if that was a soulmate thing of if he was just really horny. Probably a bit of both. “Don’t worry about it. You’re pretty cute too. Like a man.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook itched the back of his neck, trying to find the right words to build his sentence. Panic began bubbling at the bottom of his stomach, sinking its teeth into his flesh as his words left his throat. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

It was the right time now: the studying was over, the conversation was flowing, you had told him that you thought he was cute — like a man. Now, he just needed to ask you out. Just that. That’s it. Three words. He had practiced: Wanna go out? That’s it. So casual. So playboy-esque. He could do it. No pressure. If you were the one, he didn’t have much to get wrong.

But, oh my god, what if he got everything wrong? I mean, how many stories are out there of couples who were destined for each other, but something happened and it pulled them apart forever? The wrong time, the wrong place — the wrong words. Jungkook wasn’t psychologically prepared to ruin something so huge with a moment so small. He needed to calm down and focus. Just get the words out. Everything would sort itself out after that. He had faith.

“What is it?” You asked.

Jungkook cleared his throat, his eyes still glued to the touch of your hand against his. Outside, birds were chirping, unaware of the absolute shitstorm that was about to ensue. “So…” he started, “I was thinking that maybe I could— I mean, you — I mean we could...”

You tilted your head to the side, confused. “Sorry, what was that?”

He blinked once, twice, fighting against the wave of sheer terror that had taken over his brain, whitening out his thoughts. He had the sentence ready, but he had forgotten how to form it. “I’m just trying… I’m just trying here to just…” He swallowed dryly. “I was just wondering if you would like to… I mean, if it’s not a problem—”

From the other side of the room, Yoongi groaned. “Just do it! You’re making eternity so much longer.”

And that’s when it happened.

Jungkook turned around and yelled: “You told me you wouldn’t talk, you asshole!”

The entire room froze. A horrible moment of bewildered reticence followed as the realization crashed upon him like a gigantic wave. He couldn’t have just yelled at nothing in front of you, like an absolute madman, could he?

Your eyes widened and you pulled your hand away from his. The lack of warmth was like a dagger being thrown directly into his heart. “Excuse me?”

Yep. He totally did that.

“Not you!” He was quick to turn around — maybe a bit too quick, too intensely. Even with nervousness clouding his vision, Jungkook could still see the shadow of fear and confusion mingling amongst your features. He had ruined everything, and that was all that he could think about. “I’m just... personalizing my anxiety...”

“Are you... alright?” You spoke slowly, measuring his actions. Jungkook had changed from cute-nervous to absolutely-unhinged-nervous; eyes widened and jaw clenched; hands gripping the wooden chair like his life depended on it. Maybe that study session was a mistake. Maybe you should’ve just googled an online class, like your best friend told you to. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Taehyung chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.”

And, if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, Jungkook started to convince himself that perhaps it would be a good idea to come clean with you about his psychic abilities — maybe that was actually the only way that he could get out of that mess. If you were his soulmate, you’d understand. It’d all be okay. Yeah, maybe you’d be seriously creeped out for like the first twenty minutes, just like he had been, but eventually you’d understand what had happened. You two would laugh about it later, maybe when you were sixty, on your rocking chairs somewhere, staring lovingly at a cornfield.

Was he losing it? Probably. But he didn’t have the right amount of mental clarity to fully think about the consequences of his actions in that moment.

“I… did,” Jungkook spoke sluggishly, barely comprehending the trail of words that dripped from his tongue. His voice was much calmer, but he could still feel like his entire body was engulfed by flames. “I did... see a ghost. Two actually.”

You frowned. This afternoon couldn’t possibly get any worse. “What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook, don’t you dare,” Yoongi warned, but his voice seemed to come from miles away.

Slowly, as if he wasn’t really aware of his own body moving, Jungkook adjusted his position on the chair, looking down at the sea of handwritten notes in front of him. He wished that human interaction was as easy as the types of pulmonary volumes, or perhaps the changes of oxygen inside the hemoglobin. That he knew. That he could deal with.

“Ok so, have you ever watched The Emperor’s New Groove?”

You blinked twice, puzzled. “What?”

“The Disney movie,” he clarified, looking up at you.

You shook your head, measuring how long it would take for you to bolt out of the door and run away from your own apartment. Maybe you could get out and then call someone for help. You wished you had already taken Psychiatry. “I know what that is, Jungkook, but I just don’t understand where you’re getting at.”

“Maybe it’s in the TV series that came after the movie, I don’t know, but Kronk has these two little beings on his shoulders, a devil and an angel.” He cleared his throat, and looked back at the sheets of paper. It was so hard to stare at you now, when just seconds before, it had been so easy. “I kinda have the same thing, only, they’re dead people. You know, ghosts. And they’re not on my shoulders — that’d be pretty awful, actually.”

Taehyung mumbled from across the room, “I really don’t think this is a good idea, Jungkook.”

“You’re making no sense right now,” you said, worried about the effect that your words could have on him. “I think… I think it would be better if you left.”

“I can see dead people, okay?” Jungkook interrupted, exasperated. You had to understand. You were the right girl from physiology class, you had to understand.

“Okay, Sixth Sense.” You laughed nervously. Bad time for a joke, you thought, but the boy barely seemed to process it. “Listen, I can tell you’re not doing very well right now, so you should probably leave, maybe clear your head a bit. You already helped me a lot—”

“No, I don’t need that. My head is clear—”

“You know, there is a very good mental health clinic in campus, I’ve gone there already, and I think—”

“No! I don’t need mental health, it’s true!” Jungkook stood up, walking towards the couch, where the two dead men sat. There was an unspoken contest in the room to see who could be more flabbergasted at the boy’s actions, and you and Yoongi were in a close tie. “I can prove it.”

You almost choked on air. “You what?”

Jungkook pointed at nothing. “They’re here right now, I can prove it to you.”

Discombobulated, you shook your head one more time. Maybe if you did that enough, your chaotic thoughts would just fall out of your ears, and everything would be much clearer. Maybe that was a prank, maybe that was a full-blown psychotic breakdown. You just didn’t really know what to do from there. “Jungkook, I don’t think—”

“Come on, just show yourself to her!” He yelled into the air, more specifically at your white couch. You just wanted to study cardiology, how did it end up like this? “Give me a sign, I don’t know.”

Yoongi chuckled, completely amazed by the way Jungkook continuously broke the Dumb Records that he had previously set himself. No bonus in heaven would be worth dealing with Mr. Smooth Brain over there. He should’ve gone for the orphans instead. “I cannot believe you right now.” He stood up from the couch and sighed, utterly defeated. Maybe he could just get it over with, and then The Big Man Upstairs would show him a bit of mercy. “But I guess now there isn’t much to lose. I’m only doing this because at least it would make this situation a bit better.”

“How?” Taehyung asked.

“There’s a slight improvement between psychotic crisis and psychic abilities,” Yoongi responded. He walked towards the window, rolled his eyes at the pathetic presentation of supernatural phenomena, and pulled on the white curtains of your living room. “Here. Boo! Paranormal activity.”

“Did you see that?” Jungkook asked, excited.

However, instead of meeting a surprised gaze, he only saw panic and preoccupation swimming inside your eyes. “The curtain moving? Yeah. That was the wind, Jungkook.” You stood up from the chair, measuring your chances at escaping. He was getting more and more erratic, and you didn’t know where the situation could escalate to next. “You’re seriously freaking me out right now. You’re being really aggressive about this.”

“Yoongi, you’re worse than the spirits in Ghost Hunters,” Taehyung groaned, reappearing next to your living room table. “You have to be bold, that’s what I always say. Make a statement.”

Taehyung’s statement, of course, had been the biggest slap against a lamp that Jungkook had ever witnessed in his life. The ghosts had once told him that it took them a huge amount of concentrated energy to do something as little as move a napkin, so there was no way that Taehyung wouldn’t be exhausted after making that heavy piece of furniture fly against the wall, shattering into a million little pieces with a loud noise.

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asked. “That was so dangerous! She could’ve gotten hurt.”

He shrugged. “You asked.”

“What the fuck was that?” You yelled, taking your hands to your face. Was that shared hysteria? What did you just see? Maybe you were the one who needed fresh air and a shrink visit. “You’re pranking me, right? You have like a nylon string wrapped around your hands or something.”

Jungkook moved his head in denial, raising his hands up in a sigh of defeat. “I swear to God, it’s true.”

“I don’t… I don’t believe you,” you said, clearly terrified. Not at the idea of ghosts, Jungkook realized, but of him. That date surely couldn’t have gone any better.

Yoongi sighed and materialized behind Jungkook. Lost causes, Yoongi was surrounded by lost causes. “If you really want her to believe you, tell her we can say some stuff about her, but it’ll probably freak her out.”

“They are saying that they can convince you by saying some stuff about you.” Jungkook swallowed dry. Something inside him was screaming for him to just shut the fuck up and leave your building. If there was something he learned by being with the two undead pricks, is that they could always make a situation worse.

But desperate times require desperate measures.

You adjusted your posture. Trepidation was still very present in your face, but there was also a small spark of interest swimming somewhere inside your eyes. “I seriously doubt that.”

“I can show you,” he said. “Just… don’t freak out.”

“Fine.” You licked your lips in anticipation. “The name of my first pet.”

“Is this a password verification?” Yoongi groaned. He just wanted to watch Twitches later that day, but Jungkook just had to start a seance in someone else’s room. Again: the orphans would never. “Fine. It was Mr. Green, a tortoise she killed by leaving to dry in the asphalt.”

“It was a tortoise, Mr. Green. You left it on the asphalt and it died,” Jugkook repeated without hesitation.

You blinked twice, taking in the answer. “This is so fucking weird. How did you know that?”

“Yoongi told me.” Jungkook pointed over his shoulder, where Yoongi stared you down. Just by looking in that direction, you felt a shiver run down your spine. You were losing it. “He’s, you know, one of the ghosts.”

“I’ve never been so exhausted in my life.” You placed one hand against the chair, leaning against it. There was no use to keep that conversation going, and you both knew it — and yet, just like a politician lying, it just didn’t stop. “But you could’ve asked anyone that.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to become completely lost. “Why would I ask such a specific question? I don’t even know your friends.”

Behind him, he heard another loud groan. “I’m so done with this.” Yoongi placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let me talk, Jungkook.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” He asked.

Yoongi snorted. “We are all out of good ideas. But I think this is the best chance you’ve got.”

“Who are you talking to?” You almost yelled.

Jungkook looked back at you and, for some reason, the preoccupation in his eyes scared you even further. “Okay, this is going to be really weird, alright? But it’s not gonna be me talking.”

“What?”

“It’s like… a kind of possession,” he explained, gesticulating a bit more than socially acceptable. “It’s like… uh… One of them is going to use my mouth for a bit. Talk through me.”

You laughed, and there was a high-pitched sort of timbre to it. That might as well happen. “Sure, of course. What else? Exorcism live?” You asked.

“Just give me the permission,” Yoongi commanded.

Jungkook took in a deep breath, and clenched his hands into fists. He hated that part. “Fine,” he consented.

Gradually, the muscles around his mouth and throat grew numb, as if Jungkook had entered a dream, and his body was responding in autopilot. There was an awful pressure on his shoulders and a ringing in his ears as Yoongi accommodated himself around his body, reaching for control. That was the closest he would ever feel to being a ventriloquist’s puppet, and it was as bad as it could be.

Yoongi spoke through him with ease: “You told your friends last week that you didn’t care if Jungkook was a shy virgin who played minecraft because he was exactly your type. You also said that your average score in physiology is ninety-seven percent and you didn’t need any help. You just needed an excuse to stay with him. Happy?”

Jungkook inhaled sharply as the pressure on his body subsided, the numb sensation around his neck growing thinner by the second. “So violating,” he complained.

“How did you know that?” Your voice shook him back to reality. Both of you were reaching new levels of terror every minute. “Are you stalking me?”

That back and forth was starting to get exhausting. “That wasn’t me. That was Yoongi,” he tried once again. He was starting to think that the whole thing had been a bad idea.

“Well, fuck you, Yoongi,” you spat.

Yoongi scoffed. “Fuck you too, princess. Maybe you really don’t deserve this man.”

“I’m not saying that,” Jungkook whispered to him, then turned back to look at you. He wanted to hug you and magically erase your memories for that afternoon, but, in reality, he couldn’t even move his legs without feeling like he could fall face-down on the floor. He really, really, really hated possession. “I’m just… I’m sorry about that.”

“About what, Danny Phantom?” You asked, throwing your hands up in an exasperated gesture. And there it was: from panic to complete fury. That was all that you two needed at that moment. “About making me scared shitless, or about exposing me like this?”

He suspired. “Do you at least believe in me now?”

“Does it look like I believe in you, Jungkook?” You practically screamed. Truth was: neither of you knew that for sure. “I’m a woman of science, you can’t expect me to believe that—”

Taehyung groaned, walking closer to Jungkook. It must’ve been a world record how quickly everyone in that room got angry. “Let me talk,” he requested.

Jungkook sighed, defeated. How much worse could it possibly get? “Go ahead,” he said.

There it was again: the feeling of being under anesthesia, the weight of an entire other being pressed down against his shoulders. Good times. “Yesterday,” he started, “you masturbated to the thought of Jungkook, but you forgot to recharge your vibrator so you had to use your fingers and you complained the entire time. Explain that, science woman.”

Another deep gasp, and Jungkook was folding over, finding balance on his knees. He really felt like he couldn’t even think straight anymore, his mind covered by a thick fog.

You didn’t seem to be in a much different situation either. “I’m… gonna pass out.”

“That was so unnecessary, Taehyung,” Jungkook whispered. His mouth was terribly dry, and his hands were shaking. “You guys really don’t know your limits.”

“Taehyung? Who the fuck is that?” You screamed.

Taehyung crossed his arms. “Hey, at least she believes you now.”

“He’s the other ghost. The one with no sense of boundaries.” Jungkook stared at Taehyung, clearly pissed off. Maybe his voice would’ve come out a bit more forceful if he didn’t get thrown around by sadistic spirits. “I’m sorry about that.”

You shook your head, dumbfounded. “I need you to leave now. And take your ghosts with you.” You leaned over the table, and grabbed his notes, shoving them into a messy pile. Not that you were super worried about the integrity of the paper at a time like that. “This has really crossed like... every line.”

Jungkook licked his lips, trying to find the right words to say. Someway, he managed to get his legs firm enough so he could start walking in your direction. “Please, I didn’t mean to—”

You shoved the pile of notes into his backpack, and then the backpack into his hands. Before he could react, you grabbed him by the arm, guiding him towards the exit. “Thanks for helping me, Jungkook.” The door opened with a forceful pull, and you shoved him into the hall. “Never speak to me again. Bye.”

The bang of the door slamming shut was horribly loud, reverberating inside Jungkook’s chest for a moment longer. Now that the possession daze was starting to move away from his body, the boy could feel the traces of panic crawling inside him.

Jungkook dropped his backpack to the ground, and started knocking on your door. “Y/N, please!” He called. “I’m so sorry about everything. You have to believe me!”

Your yell came muffled from the other side of the door. “Go away!” you screamed. “Or I’m calling the cops!”

Defeated, he closed his eyes and placed his forehead against the wood. Now that the situation had already climaxed, the absurdity of it all was starting to become much more palpable.

How could Jungkook be so stupid? How could he think that you would act normally as you were exposed to the supernatural world? Especially in such distressing, violating ways. Even if you were his meant-to-be, his forever person, it would be ridiculous to believe that anyone would take all in that with ease. He really outdid himself that time.

“Let her be, you two can talk another time,” Yoongi spoke, leaning against the wall. It was possible to see all the places that the pain was starting to crack through his semi-translucent form. “Good attempt, though. I’d give you a star for trying.”

“This is not funny,” Jungkook mumbled, moving away from the door so you couldn’t hear him. The artificial lights above his head were sharp, buzzing mockingly. “You two keep saying that you’re here to help me, but you keep making stuff like this happen. If she really did like me, you just ruined everything.”

Yoongi raised one eyebrow. “Why do you care so much about that one?”

Jungkook glanced at him. “You told me she’s the one.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “I told you she was the right girl from physiology class, not that you two were going to die holding hands or something,” Yoongi told him. “You filled the blanks yourself.”

“That’s why we don’t give away all those details,” Taehyung scolded Yoongi, looking at him up and down. Jungkook had never seen him so irritated before — at least not about serious things. “You know we could get in real big trouble if someone heard about that. Which, correct me if I’m wrong, it’s kind of the entire deal of heaven to know about stuff.”

“I know, I know,” Yoongi groaned, disregarding his preoccupations. Maybe Taehyung didn’t understand his galaxy-brain plan yet, but he was sure that the heavens would. Or at least he hoped so. “But I think there’s something else that we need to focus on. Jungkook wouldn’t care this much about the other girls he dated, even if it was meant to be.”

“Why are you two talking like I’m not here?” Jungkook asked, annoyed.

“Why are you talking to yourself like you’re not in a corridor of an apartment building?” Yoongi threw back. Without a second of hesitation, Jungkook picked up his backpack and turned on his heels, walking down the hall, completely done with them. “Hey, come back. Just tell me what’s the fuzz with this one.”

He didn’t look back. “Aren’t you two supposed to know? All-knowing and shit.”

“We want to hear it from you,” Yoongi pressed on.

Jungkook opened the heavy door to the stairwell, allowing for it to hit behind him. Taehyung and Yoongi passed right through it, of course, and kept following him as he quickly moved down the concrete steps. “Y/N is my friend.”

Yoongi hummed. “Go on.”

“Isn’t that enough for a justification? What else do you want from me?” He inquired, aggressive. The sound of his steps echoed like drums through the expansion of the staircase, and he hoped that no one else had been listening to his apparent monologue. “I don’t wanna ruin this friendship by talking about her masturbation techniques, I don’t know if that makes the situation super unique.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “You have other friends.”

“I care for her, alright?” Jungkook turned around abruptly, making the two ghosts stop in their tracks. Taehyung had almost lost his balance, but it wasn’t as if that could have any serious consequences for him.

Jungkook sighed, trying to control the anger that had built up so rapidly, and continued speaking. “I care for her more than other friends. Fuck, is that what you two wanted to hear? Besides, it’s not like I know anyone better than her. I didn’t even think I had a chance with someone like that until you told me. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s like… super hot when she’s mad—”

“Oh, would you look at that.” Yoongi grinned, satisfied. “Jungkook’s whipped.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “I’m not.”

“Why are you so red?” Taehyung asked.

Jungkook covered his face, feeling the heat of his checks emanating against his palms. “I’m not!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, tiger,” Yoongi raised his hands in a silent request for forgiveness. They were still a few steps above Jungkook, and the whole scene looked like something straight out of the Book of Revelation. “This is a good thing, we actually thought it would never happen. It’s not like you’ve been this introspective in what… five years? More even.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yoongi sighed, and looked at Taehyung for confirmation. The other ghost nodded in a silent agreement, and Yoongi started to speak. “Listen, we’re here to help you, but we didn’t say everything,” he admitted. “We couldn’t, really, otherwise it wouldn’t be so... organic.”

“What?”

“Jungkook, you were desperate to lose your virginity,” Yoongi explained. “You still are, in a way. And that’s not a good thing, because you’ll get the first thing that moves and you’ll try to stick your dick in it.”

Taehyung chuckled drily, looking at a fixed point. “Which is not a good idea, believe me,” he spoke in a mumble, and Jungkook could not help but think that his advice came from personal experience. That, of course, was a story for other, less sober times.

“Is that why the two of you always interrupt me?” He asked, a bit offended. “Because those girls weren’t right for me? Like this is a purity cult or something?”

“Eh.” Yoongi did a so-so gesture with his hand. “Kind of. Not really. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you actually feel something for this girl, something beyond the thoughts that come from your lower head.”

“And she feels something for you too, even after that trainwreck that we just witnessed in there,” Taehyung added patiently. “Which will help us a lot in the long run.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Jungkook crossed his arms, stubborn. He really could look and sound like a child throwing a tantrum when he wanted to. “I still don’t get it. It wasn’t your place to tell me who I could or couldn’t be with, it’s not as if you guys are—”

“Jungkook, that’s enough,” Taehyung interrupted him. “You don’t think it makes sense? Stop and think for once in your life.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”

Taehyung glanced at him. “Listen, we just saved you from months of wrong dates and wrong nights. We pushed away people who didn’t really care about you, who just wanted you to use you, or who would end up cheating on you anyways. Not everyone gets this privilege,” he said, completely done with that victim mentality. “So, for once in your life, be grateful. Be grateful for the bad dates, the embarrassment, the times that it didn’t work out. And, look, we are sorry for the way they had to go down, it wasn’t as funny as it seemed from our perspective. But if you didn’t have those bad dates, you’d have very, very bad months following them. So you’re welcome.”

“And all those bad dates lead you to the right person,” Yoongi completed, watching as Jungkook’s expression withered into shame. He was staring to get it — they could almost see the hamster in his brain start running. “Now, listen, we don’t know if this is the for-life situation, that’s not the kind of information we have, alright? Do I look like a seraphin to you? No. But does it matter? No. Most relationships aren’t the for-life thing anyways, but they are here to teach you something. And if the afterlife thought that there was something good for you here, who are we to judge?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agreed. “Now, can you please forget about all those past people and just focus on her? Maybe shut the fuck up while you do that? I get that you wanted to get your dick wet, but there’s a time and a place for that.”

The boy sighed, and leaned against the red handrails. It took Jungkook a few seconds to speak out. “I feel like I’ve just been lectured by my parents,” he admitted.

Taehyung relaxed his shoulders. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to slap some sense into you for months now, but I didn’t really have the permission.”

“Feel better?” Jungkook asked.

He nodded. “Much better.”

“I’m happy for you,” he said. Jungkook ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen over his eyes. “And about Y/N… There’s no way she’ll ever talk to me after this mess. I ruined everything.”

Taehyung nodded. “You pretty much did, yeah.”

“You took the worst case scenario and managed to make it even more horrible,” Yoongi said. “It’s pretty impressive, actually.”

“Thanks, that’s great.” Jungkook chuckled, humorless. He could always count on them for emotional support. “But, I mean… What do I do now? I mean, is there anything that we could do to save this?”

“Worry not, my child,” Yoongi smirked, crossing his arms. “Taehyung and I are masters of seduction, and we’re here to help you. Just trust us.”

“And before you say something,” Taehyung interrupted, raising one finger. “You never had the right girl before, so we weren’t really trying. I think we can find some real solid ground here.”

Jungkook breathed out, and looked down at the grey stairs. Yeah, it’s not like he wasn’t at the bottom of the well already. “Fine. One last chance,” he agreed, looking back at the ghosts. “Just tell me what I have to do.”

______________

Much to Jungkook’s delight, he didn’t need to muster up the courage to talk to you, because you did that first.

For the first time in their lives (and deaths), Yoongi and Taehyung actually did something right. Jungkook didn’t really know the details of their plan, all that he knew was that they would find a way to ��make you see what you were missing” so that you would “come crawling back to him”. Which didn’t sound threatening at all.

Countless possibilities crossed Jungkook’s head — horror movie hauntings, Taehyung invading your dreams with claws for fingers, Yoongi with a wet wig crawling out of your TV — but, in the end, no matter how much he insisted, the two of them just wouldn’t say a word. Apparently, there was a lot going on backstage that Jungkook had no idea about, so he should just “take it easy” and wait for the sequence of events to unravel. Amazing. Now he knew how the characters in Final Destination felt.

“Just be patient, young one,” Taehyung had told him, thrown over his couch like a Victorian monarch. “All you need to know is that she will be back. Everything else it’s just… details.”

And, two weeks after the dormitory incident, you did.

There was a muffled thud as you placed your large books over the wooden table, and sat down across from him. The silence of the library didn’t allow for Jungkook to foresee your arrival, and to meet your gaze so suddenly was enough for his face to burn up in shame, his heart drumming against his ribcage. His sympathetic system really needed to quit with that bullshit before he collapsed.

“Hey,” you mumbled, seeming just as uncomfortable as he was. “Can we talk? You know what about.”

The boy swallowed dry, and leaned a bit forward. “Y-Yeah, sure,” he whispered back. “I’m really sorry, Y/N, I don’t know why I thought—”

“For how long?” you sliced his sentence short, making his lips fall shut.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What?”

You cleared your throat, and shuffled on your seat. As much as the library was practically empty, neither of you felt courageous enough to use your usual voice tone — especially when dealing with that subject. “How long have you been able to, you know, see them?”

Jungkook took a second to respond, licking his dry lips and looking at the line of bookshelves as if seeking for the right thing to say. He felt awkward enough just interacting with someone from the opposite sex, but talking about the ghosts he saw? Hell, that bordered on a panic attack. Especially after the circus show that was that past study session. “Almost two years now, I think,” he finally answered. “But they told me they’ve been around for a bit longer. I just couldn’t see it.”

You shook your head in concordance, even if the information was everything but easy to understand. “That’s crazy,” you spoke. “I don’t know how you deal with it.”

Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. “Not very well, as you can probably tell.”

“I don’t think I can judge you. I didn’t precisely react well either.” You swallowed dry, wide eyes flickering on the world behind Jungkook. “Are we alone now?”

As much as he already knew the answer, he looked around just to check. “Surprisingly, yeah,” Jungkook responded, slightly suspicious. Yoongi and Taehyung were always looking over his shoulder and throwing him into messy situations, he couldn’t tell why they weren’t there when, quite frankly, it was their perfect shot at humiliation. Maybe they really were doing their jobs for once. “I don’t know why they’re not here. That’s weird.”

You shrugged as if to say that you wouldn’t know either. “What are their names again?”

“Yoongi and Taehyung,” he answered, then waited another second to see if he could feel their presence. Nothing again. That was really strange — they often responded upon being called. “Listen, Y/N, I hate what we went through. They had no right to say those things. I’m used to the privacy issues, since I have been with them for a while. But you aren’t, and I can only imagine how weird you felt hearing all that. I’m really, really sorry.”

You pressed your lips together which, Jungkook guessed, was a failed attempt to suppress the rubor that exploded across your cheeks. He couldn’t blame you, though, for there were limits that were crossed. “I’m over it if you are,” was what you forced yourself to say.

“I am,” he lied. None of you were particularly good at not telling the truth, and that was pretty obvious. But ignoring it was a start.

“Good, okay.” You cleared your throat, placing the palms of your hands against the pile of books. “Sorry for lying about needing help in physiology, and all that. I just needed an excuse to spend more time with you, as you know now. I guess it’s obvious that I kinda have a huge crush on you.”

“It’s fine.” Jungkook laughed, extremely relieved to notice that your last sentence was in present tense. “I kinda have a huge crush on you too.”

Honestly, even if it wasn’t for life, he’d have to give you props for still liking a guy that had had a borderline psychotic breakdown in your apartment, talked about your pet tortoise, and your masturbation technique, and still had the nerve to expose you to the supernatural world. It was a lot. Good on you for taking it like a champ.

“And,” he continued, “sorry for using my ghosts to expose your secrets. I just needed to find a way for you to believe me, and I had no idea about what they were going to say. I was pretty much in a frenzied state, I wasn’t thinking straight. It won’t happen again.”

“Apologies accepted.” You smiled, relieved. You were really beautiful, Jungkook thought in a breathless instant. He could look at you all day. “You know, it’s going to take me some time to get used to all that. I mean, I’m still not a hundred percent sure I believe in everything, but, I… My lamp flew across the room, and you told me things that you simply couldn’t know about. So, if it’s a prank, it’s a really good one.”

“I know how it is.” He nodded in agreement. “It was really difficult for me at first, too. I understand if you’d rather just stay away from me from now on.”

You sighed, looking down at your books — the two mammoth-sized volumes of Harrison’s Internal Medicine staring at you in mockery. “Weird thing is: I don’t really want to.” You crossed your arms and leaned back against the chair. Was that the sound of angels singing? Jungkook couldn’t tell. “I’d love to spend more time with you. Alone, if possible. And that counts both planes of existence.”

“Sounds fair, I’d love that.” Jungkook smiled. As he met your eyes, he was filled with a warm, rose-colored courage that he had never felt before. “Actually, I was wondering if, you know… you wanna do something? With me? Alone, of course. No ghosts. One of these days, I don’t know. If you’re not busy—”

You raised your eyebrows, interested. “You’re asking me out?”

He sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. “Trying, yeah. You can see I’m not the best at that either.”

Your smile grew a little. “That’s a big yes.”

“Really?” Jungkook stared at you like a lost puppy, his mind going completely blank for a second or two. The hamster in his brain was now somersaulting through his body, landing on his stomach and hitting him with a wave of nausea. “Wow, thanks. I don’t really have an idea of what we could do, though. Didn’t think I’d get that far.”

There was an instant of quietude as you thought for a moment, the space between the two of you permeated by the vague sounds of pages turning. “Movies?” You asked.

“Sounds great.” Jungkook smiled openly, his shoulders falling in alleviation. He didn’t know what Taehyung and Yoongi had done, but he was beyond thankful for it. Seemed like their sacrifices weren’t in vain, after all. “The film majors are doing this 2000’s marathon this week. I think this Saturday it’ll be either Mean Girls or 17 Again.”

“I’m in,” you spoke excitedly. “I’ll be there, just text me the details.”

Jungkook almost swallowed his own tongue as he watched you stand up, presenting him with a gorgeous view of thighs beneath the level of your skirt. “Great!” He exclaimed a bit too loud, his voice a bit too high-pitched, awakening his inner thirteen-year-old. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice another octave. “I mean, yeah, great. Thank you for… saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking.” You placed your hair behind your shoulder, and leaned in to pick up the heavy pile of books. All nine kilos of Internal Medicine.

“See you there,” he said.

You smiled. “See you, Kookie.”

Jungkook watched you walk away as if he was floating in a fever dream, completely unable to believe what had just unfolded. Did he seriously manage to get a date with you? Of all people? He must’ve been hallucinating. Maybe he ended up falling down the stairwell and died, perhaps that was his heaven, and he would—

Behind him, Taehyung sneered. “Kookie? You’re getting softer than your dick.”

Jungkook turned around so brusquely that the chair tilted back and, if it wasn’t for him holding down to the corner of the table, he would’ve fallen to the ground. “You two were there all along?” He whispered-screamed. Before he could land a sermon on them, though, he met the devilish smirk that was plastered all over Yoongi’s features. Oh no. No. The movies. “No, Yoongi, I know what you’re thinki—”

“Get in, loser, we’re going to the movies.”

_________________

Saturday rolled around and, with it, came your much anticipated movie date. Jungkook had spent the previous night tossing and turning on his bed, completely monopolized by anxiety, thinking about every possible apocalyptic scenario that could go down. What if he tried to take a slip of his drink, but ended up blinding himself with the straw? Maybe he would step on the wrong chord and set the entire college on fire. Or maybe he would trip, fall down on a poor girl, and kill her on the spot. That would be awful, you would never talk to him again after any of that — the imaginary disappointment in your face was like a punch in the gut.

Was he being ridiculous? Obviously. Did that stop his pre-date panic? Obviously not.

Still, with the might of a thousand warriors, Jungkook managed to drag himself to your date, his knees almost giving out beneath him when he saw you — he didn’t believe you would actually come, for some of him still thought it was all a sadistic heaven prank. Somehow, he blurted out a compliment about how good you looked while he was having a heart attack, and almost lost his consciousness when you smiled at him.

Yep, it would be a difficult night.

The movie marathon consisted of three 2000’s movies, and the two of you managed to arrive right before Mean Girls started, fumbling on your seats as the rest of the room grew quiet. The makeshift classroom didn’t look like a movie theater in the slightest, but it wasn’t as if you were expecting that in the first place — it was nothing more than an agglomeration of chairs and desks, combined with a few puff chairs and old couches scattered around. Much to your delight, you and Jungkook managed to grab one of those couches before another couple returned to their seats, and he could see that his ghost buddies had already found their own place on the empty chairs behind the two of you.

Surprise! None of the catastrophic scenarios in his mind actually came true. In fact, he had a great time with you, laughing at your jokes and sometimes flat-out stealing Yoongi’s commentary just to make you chuckle, which granted him a few mumbled complaints coming from the back row.

“Jungkook is so superior, don’t you think, Taehyung?” Yoongi mocked, and Jungkook was sure that he would be kicking his seat if he could. “So smart. So great. But can’t even figure out his own jokes. Has to steal them from a poor dead man. You’re a grave robber.”

Taehyung chuckled. “Hey, you’re helping him, at least. That’s our whole point here.”

“Grave robber!” he repeated, more aggressively this time. “I can’t believe you’d ruin Mean Girls for me like this. Not even hell would be so cruel.”

“How dare you say that about hell? If I get in trouble because you can’t keep your mouth shut, Yoongi, I swear to God—”

“Now you’re saying God’s name in vain, you heretic! That’s so much worse!”

Jungkook had to bite back a laugh as the two continued bickering behind him, only half aware of the scene in which Regina George glued her own picture on the burn book. He didn’t know when exactly he had done it — he had been so on edge the entire night that it was almost as if his own brain was instantly deleting his memories, but he had managed to curl one arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He was sure that you could hear the frantic heartbeat of his heart against his chest, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t think he could even get that far.

But he did, and even reached beyond that.

Once the screen faded to black and the credits started appearing, there was a resounding wave of claps in the room, cheering for the absolute cultural reset that was that movie. One of the students moved to the front of the room, explaining that they would take a ten minutes break, then would return with She’s All That. Apparently, 1999 was close enough to the 2000’s for it to be picked as well.

“Do you wanna stay and watch it?” He asked, fighting every muscle in his body not to smell your hair. He knew that it would be super creepy, yeah, but your head was right there and it smelled so good.

You removed your body from his chest, looking up at him. “I would love to, but I have to wake up early tomorrow to study,” you said. “Big test on Monday.”

“Sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, slightly let down. To be honest, he had completely forgotten that information until that point. Seems like he would have a lot to catch up on during the next day. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.”

You thanked him with a smile, and you two got moving.

The walk back to your place wasn’t exactly awkward, but it could have also been a lot better. The two of you talked about the movie animatedly, the subject that you had to study — an awful amount of gastric pathology to memorize — and, eventually, landed on your weirdest experiences during hospital rounds. You were in the middle of telling him how two toddlers (twins) managed to puke on you at the same time, and how you thought that was a sign of a telepathic connection between the two, when he felt the back of his hand brush against yours, and everything around him turned into static. Suddenly, it was all that he could think about.

Jungkook had already spent the entire date with questions flying around his head. When was the right time to pull you close? Could he hold your hand, or would that be too bold? Could you smell how sweaty he was? Or maybe his deodorant was too strong? If he ran away, trained to be an astronaut, and joined the Mars colonization mission, would he be able to avoid embarrassing himself again?

And, more importantly: would it be weird to kiss you goodnight?

Considering the fact that he had no clue how to read your body language, and that almost all of his romantic experience came from bad sitcoms and Twilight marathons with Yoongi, Jungkook didn’t judge himself suited to answer that last question. He didn’t know if he should hold your hand, he didn’t know if you were just being polite or if you actually had a good time. Again and again, his anxiety got the best of him. He should really get back to seeing his campus counselor.

“So… we’re here,” you said, holding your hands in front of your body. You had stopped at the entrance of your block, and Jungkook took that as a sign that you didn’t want him to go all the way back to your apartment. Fair enough. “Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun. We should do this again sometimes.”

“For sure, yeah.” Jungkook nodded, somewhat relieved that you asked for that. At least that was a clear sign that you didn’t completely hate him. “That would be great.”

You agreed and looked down at your shoes. The darkness of the night enveloped the two of you, only half of your features illuminated by the dim yellow shine of the nearest light post. Jungkook almost fainted when you stared into his eyes, with a faint blush painting your cheeks, and questioned, “So, you’re not gonna kiss me?”

Windows’ blue screen. Please, hold.

“I… I, uh—” Jungkook’s mouth felt as if he had just swallowed an entire desert, his brain fighting to keep his voice steady. Your eyes, so focused and expectant, felt like daggers against his chest. “I didn’t know if you wanted to,” he finally admitted.

Your shoulders fell as a tender smile curled up on your roseate lips. Jungkook thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. “I do,” you told him gently. His heart almost leaped out of his throat. “Do you want to?”

And that was the easiest question that he would ever answer. “Yeah,” Jungkook said.

You smiled. “Perfect.”

The boy barely had time to react before your hand was curling around the fabric of his shirt, and you pulled him towards you in a playful tug. Jungkook’s eyes stayed comically widened for a second after your lips met, but, soon enough, he allowed himself to melt into your embrace, his nervous hands landing on your waist, and his mind instantly calming down.

He kissed you slowly, carefully, almost afraid that, at the faintest of movements, reality would shatter and he would lose that moment forever. Of course, it didn’t, and he stayed on that instant a bit longer before, at last, he pulled away, slightly breathless.

“I should’ve done that sooner,” he confessed.

You tilted your head at him, fingers playing with his hair. “It happened at the right time,” you said. “Some things can’t be rushed. Especially the good ones.”

Just like that, he understood what Taehyung and Yoongi had been saying all those years. No matter how cliche it was, there was some truth to the saying that ‘what is supposed to happen, will’. And, the better that something is, the more work it will require.

But, as he kissed you again, Jungkook realized that it was all worth it in the end.

____________

The following months by your side were so amazing that Jungkook constantly brought back his theory that “maybe he was actually dead, and that was heaven.” And, if it was, he would make sure to shake God’s hand himself because, holy fuck, was he one lucky man.

Okay, maybe the first few weeks together were a bit painfully cringe-worthy, but he was really trying to pretend as if they didn’t happen. Jungkook didn’t really get the memo, and he had to slowly figure out how to behave romantically with you. He got it wrong the first few times — kissing you at the worst possible moment, or sending you a huge bouquet of roses during your microbiology exam — but, eventually, you guided him towards more neutral grounds. Then everything went smoothly.

Surprisingly, even the undead duo calmed down for a while. Yoongi and Taehyung were still around, since they had no other option, but were much quieter now, only making punctual remarks when Jungkook made a fool out of himself. Hell, they even left the room when things started getting more serious between the two of you, instead of giving Cosmopolitan-worthy advice, and that was a huge improvement.

But, of course, it wouldn’t be Jungkook’s life if there wasn’t a huge joke waiting just around the corner. Soon enough, another issue would present itself.

It came in the form of a warm mumble against his lips, and the vague — yet deliciously noticeable — rolling of your hips against his own. “Jungkook,” you called, breathless after a long make-out session. The two of you were on his couch, with you sitting on his lap, straddling him. “I want you.”

He froze. What else would he do? Jungkook was a panicked virgin. He knew that your intimate times would happen eventually — and he really wanted them to — but he didn’t expect that his mind would completely malfunction once he got so close, with his erection growing inside his pants and the softness of your breasts pressing against his torso. It was just a lot, alright?

And, lost amidst the tempestuous sea of his sudden despair, all that he could utter back was, “Are… Are you sure you want to do this right now?”

“Yeah.” You placed a strand of hair behind your ear. Jungkook thought that he could faint on the spot. It was actually a pretty common sensation with him. “You don’t want it?”

“No — I mean yeah! Yeah, I want it.” He choked on his words, looking down in embarrassment, only to meet the contour of your thighs. His youth leader had been right all along: temptation was everywhere. “I’m just… I’ve never done anything before.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down, placing your hands on his shoulders. The heat of your palms seemed to have some effect on the chaotic emotions that boiled inside him, for his muscles relaxed considerably under your touch. “I won’t pressure you, okay? If you want to take more time, it’s completely fine.”

“No, it’s not like that. I don’t feel pressured.” He shook his head, then looked up at you. You could almost feel the conflict inside his gaze, the mixture of anticipation and fear that you knew all too well. “I want you, Y/N, I really do. I’m just nervous.”

“It’s fine,” you repeated. “We don’t have to do anything now, and we can start slo—”

But he couldn’t listen to the end of your phrase, because a familiar voice damn near hollered from the other side of the room. “Taehyung, come in here! Quick!” Yoongi yelled, signaling through the door like he was controlling the air traffic. “He’s getting some! Jungkook’s about to get his cherry popped the fuck off!”

You tilted your head to the side, staring him down with preoccupation. “Jungkook? Are you okay?”

“The fuck! There is no fucking way!” Taehyung’s voice got louder as he yelled, signaling his growing proximity. “Call NASA right now!”

Jungkook sighed, throwing his head against the couch. Goodbye erection, and goodbye any chance of having sex that day. “Yoongi and Taehyung just showed up,” he mumbled bitterly.

You lowered your gaze and took a deep breath, then removed yourself from his lap. Jungkook hated the lack of heat, and he swore he would have drop-kicked the two if they weren’t in a different dimension. The certainty of death was all that he needed to know that he would get his revenge some day. “Of course they did,” you complained, fixing your clothes. “I love being cockblocked by cockless ghosts. Again.”

“Hey!” Taehyung sounded actually offended.

Jungkook turned around harshly, his voice bitter. “Can the two of you just fuck off? This is not the time.”

“So you two can fuck?” Yoongi grinned, then looked at Taehyung. “We should, actually.”

“Jungkook… this is too weird now.” You raised your hands in a silent bargain for it all to stop. You could deal with a few psychic sessions every once in a while, but being a voyeurism victim for ghosts wouldn’t be the way you wanted to spend your afternoon. “Let’s do this another time, okay? I should get going anyways. Big day at the hospital tomorrow.”

He took one of his hands to his face, massaging his temple. You got up from the couch, reaching for your backpack. “Yeah, okay.” The boy pouted, and you leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips. Disappointing end for a night, to say the least. “Good luck tomorrow. Text me if you get an interesting case!”

“Thanks! I will.” You threw your backpack strap over your shoulder and started walking towards the exit. Jungkook couldn’t blame you for just wanting to leave that place as soon as possible, he was sure that the discomfort was much worse for you. “Bye, Jungkook! I’ll let you know when I get to my place.”

He opened his mouth to thank you, but you were already out the door. The lock clicked shut, and the silence became thick, mocking him. Even if he already had an actual girlfriend, Jungkook still found himself being left behind by someone that would never want to see him again — dick semi-hard and morale shattered on the ground. Seems like he always found himself back in that position.

Taehyung materialized on the couch next to him, hugging his knees. He was staring at the closed door, somewhat expecting that you would come back, but knowing very well that you wouldn’t do so. “Okay, I accept that it was our fault,” he said, oscillating his gaze towards Jungkook. “Sorry, man. We are like, super invested in this. There’s almost nothing interesting going on in the afterlife and this is, like, better than any TV show airing right now.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, utterly exhausted at the mess that had become his life. He was done giving them sermons: it had basically turned into the world’s worst pastime and gave little to no results. “You know what? Just promise me you’re not going to show up next time.” He stared both of them down. “I don’t wanna be watched, that’s just weird. And I know that Y/N isn’t happy about that either.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Some people like it.”

“Yeah, I’m not one of those people,” he told him. “Guys, please. I know you two are as excited as I am about this, and I appreciate your... support, but I think this is something I need to do alone. In peace. Not being watched by spirits. That’s isn’t too much to ask.”

“He’s right, you know?” Taehyung said, looking back at Yoongi. “We should stay in our lane for now.”

The other ghost looked down at his feet, which basically morphed into the carpet beneath them. For the first time in two long years, he actually seemed like he was rethinking his actions. “Yeah, sorry,” Yoongi responded. “We got carried away. We’ll leave next time. Maybe try something when your neighbors are having a movie night.”

Jungkook’s shoulders fell in alleviation. Maybe not everything was doomed. “Thank you,” he spoke, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll probably do that. When is the next one?”

Taehyung looked at Yoongi, then back at him. “What are the chances that you’re gonna get your virgin shit together by tomorrow night?”

___________

Slim to none, actually, but he had managed to (kind of) do it. Focus on the “kind of.”

Jungkook had spent the previous night doing in-depth research about sexual intercourse, and basing his actions in real-life situations. That meant that he stayed up until four in the morning watching porn. Not masturbating. Just watching it very closely and trying to learn what to do — like an actual serial killer.

“Do you think that this is… a good idea?” Taehyung spoke from the other side of his room, preoccupation plastered all over his face. The whole porn-science was funny for the first twenty minutes, and then it just ended up being terrifying. “You know that people don’t actually have sex like that, right? It’s all exaggerated.”

“Quiet!” Jungkook raised his finger after a particularly loud moan echoed, his eyes red and glued to the computer screen. The white light from his device was awfully sharp, bathing his figure and making his image border on demonic. It really wasn’t a good look. “I’m researching. I need to know what to do.”

“You look and sound like a maniac.” Taehyung walked closer to the bed, measuring his movements. After he died, he thought that he would never be afraid of any other living thing — but Jungkook had just proved him wrong. Against his best judgement, he took a peek at the screen. “No! Oh my— That’s not natural. That’s so wrong. You should know, you studied anatomy.”

“I’m not gonna do this tomorrow,” Jungkook mumbled, closing the video. Taehyung recoiled back to the darkness of the room like a vampire that had just been touched by the sun. “The plot was interesting.”

“You’re not even hard, man,” he said, pointing at Jungkook’s trousers. “This is like, really weird. You should stop before you have some problem getting it up tomorrow.”

“What are you trying to say?” He narrowed his eyes, paranoid. “That wouldn’t happen. I know what I can do.”

“You’re the medical student, take a look,” Taehyung insisted. “There’s research about that, pornography affects young men and women a lot and— Actually, what the fuck am I talking about? This is crazy. I should’ve left with Yoongi.”

“Wait, I just—” Jungkook closed his computer with a sigh. His hair was disheveled and his gaze was unfocused. It really was the oddest night in Taehyung’s life/death. “I just don’t know what to do tomorrow. I’m about to have an anxiety attack. It’s like the third one tonight.”

Taehyung pressed his lips together, the discomfort inside him being replaced by a warm sense of understanding. “Man, she knows you don’t have experience. She isn’t expecting a porn star performance, or whatever the fuck you were just watching.” He pointed to the computer, which was now neglected amongst the sea of blankets. “By the way, I’m a changed spirit. I hate you for making me see that.”

Jungkook would have laughed at his distress if he wasn’t too tired to do that. “Technically, you decided to look at it yourself,” he corrected. “But, yeah, I know she’s not expecting anything great. But I don’t wanna make a fool out of myself, you know? Not like it’s a rare occasion or anything.”

Taehyung shrugged. Being alive made everything seem so much more important than it actually was, he thought. “Lay back and let her take the lead, then.”

Jungkook furrowed his brow, his eyes widening at the idea. Of course! That was the big galaxy brain moment he needed all along. “Are you serious? It’s that simple?” He asked, hopeful.

Taehyung chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

Yeah. It was that simple. Who would’ve thought that those see-through idiots actually would have something intelligent to say?

Really, it was a time of miracles in Jungkook’s life. The following day, the planets aligned and, for the first time ever since puberty, everything went right for him: the class ended a bit early, his neighbors decided to watch two movies instead of one, and his place was perfectly devoid of any paranormal activity by the time you wandered into it.

He didn’t tell you that he had planned that entire thing before it happened — he thought it would be super strange to schedule his virginity loss out loud — and he was glad to see that everything evolved naturally. One hour and forty minutes after you arrived, you two were already at the same point that you had left the day before — only, this time, you two actually managed to get to his bed.

“They’re not here, are they? You’re sure?” You asked in between kisses for what should’ve been the fifth time.

“No, I asked them to leave earlier.” Jungkook’s hands pressed down on your hips, the sensation of your center rolling against his erection eliciting a sigh from him. Ha! Fuck Taehyung and his soft dick curse. “I actually… Before we do anything, I actually wanted to know if you could, you know, help me a little.”

You hummed, taking your face away from his. Jungkook watched as you licked your lips, your eyes dazed, and leaned in to place another kiss against his mouth. “In what way?” You asked.

“Just... show me what to do,” he said. “What you like, if I’m doing something wrong… everything.”

With a soft smile, you agreed, arms curling around his shoulders. “Of course,” you told him. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

That being said, you dove back to his lips, feeling as he both simultaneously relaxed and tensed up under your touches. Jungkook had evolved a lot in those past few months, you realized, since the early-dating version of him wouldn’t find himself in that position without turning into a stuttering, blushing mess beneath you. It was kind of cute, but you’d never say that out loud.

You felt his hands trailing up your back, underneath your clothes, his palms dwelling in the softness of your skin for a moment before, in a courageous movement, he decided to pull your shirt up. There was a short separation of your mouths as the piece of clothing slid up your arms, and collapsed against the floor in a puddle of cotton.

Jungkook sighed once he felt the lace of your bra against his hands; the softness of your breasts was something that he continuously daydreamed about. Now, without the barrier of your clothes, all that he needed was to remove that last constriction and he would be—

“Oh well…” He chuckled nervously, fumbling with your bra. “Sorry, I don’t know how to open this.”

You smiled at the embarrassment that danced around his features. “Relax, okay?” You said, moving your hands to your back and taking care of that problem yourself. You’d teach him about the magic of unclasping bras another time. “It’s fine.”

But Jungkook didn’t have time to think about an answer, for soon your bra was meeting your shirt on the floor. His reaction would’ve been the same if you just moved over and came back with a baby dinosaur in your hands — his eyes widening in amazement as he took in the image of your nude breasts, a small whimper perishing in his throat as he slithered his hands upward, cupping them.

Your breath stopped for a moment when he leaned in, reluctant, and enveloped one of your nipples with his warm mouth, his tongue delicately coming out to trace circles on your sensitive flesh. Jungkook groaned at the sensation, his cock becoming unbearably hard against his pants, and tilted your body over so he could be on top of you.

You curled up against the sheets, sighing in delight as the boy continued to work on your breasts, kissing and sucking lightly, taking his time. Every time you looked down, you could see that Jungkook was having almost as much fun as you, the small moans that dripped from his tongue vibrating inside your chest.

“Does it feel good?” He raised his gaze towards you, expectant. “Am I doing a good job?”

“Yes, very good.” Your hands curled around the roots of his hair. The action was gentle, but Jungkook shuddered under the sensation — every small movement proved itself to be a lot for him to handle. “You’re doing amazing. Is there something that you want to do, Kookie?”

The boy licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Part of him (probably the sleep deprived one) still didn’t believe that you two were actually doing that — that it wasn’t just a figment of his horny imagination. No, it was real. You were right there in front of him, beautiful and devastating, caressing his hair as you waited for an answer.

“I… I want to make you feel good,” he said, wide-eyed and hesitant. His dick felt painfully hard being so constructed by his pants and, suddenly, he became aware of how clothed he still was. No wonder it was so hot. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Your lips curled up at his adorableness, one of your hands meeting his wrist. Patiently, you guided it down, and placed it on the hem of your pants. “Can you touch me?” You questioned. “I can tell you what I like.”

“Oh, please,” he almost pleaded, his hand already fumbling to open your pants. Much to his delight, those were a lot easier than your bra, and they were soon sliding down your legs with ease.

He took a moment to take in your form, eyes traveling up from your legs, to your hips, then all the way back to your breasts. As Jungkook met your gaze, he allowed for a suspire of relief to depart from his mouth, shoulders relaxing. “I’m so lucky,” he spoke, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

The smile that you presented him looked brighter than all of the stars above. “Come here,” you called, leaning against your elbows. “Give me a kiss.”

Obedient, Jungkook did as you requested, a grunt escaping his chest once you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, nails brushing lightly against the skin of his neck. He had goosebumps at the sensation, his hand moving by its own will, navigating down your stomach and towards your heat.

His fingers hovered, insecure, over the hem of your panties for a moment. Still, at the sound of his name being spoken against the kiss, he was overtaken by an ephemeral spark of courage. Soon, your panties were on the floor too.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Jungkook whined at the contact, his fingers dwelling just above your entrance. Inside his pants, his cock twitched at the sensation, his lower body already tingling with excitement. He didn’t know how he would manage not to cum in his pants, but he would have to find a way. “What do I do now?”

“Now...” you said, leaning your head against the pillow. “Move up and find my clit. Make all those hours of anatomy worth it,” you joked.

Jungkook nodded, but anatomy was much more difficult when he wasn’t actually looking at a certain part of the body — he was much more interested in watching your expression. Embarrassed, he did as you requested, trailing his wet fingers up until you told him to stop. “Right there,” you said, sighing once you felt his hand pressing down on it, starting to trace small circular patterns. “That’s it, baby, great job.”

His heart leaped at the compliment, and his actions became firmer. Jungkook thought he would go insane when he heard you whimper and cry out at the sensation, your hips bucking up against his hand ever so slightly. “You’re so hot,” he breathlessly confessed, his words coming in a hot puff of air against your neck. His digits slowly trailed down, towards your entrance, and he paused. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Jungkook swallowed hard, adventuring one finger inside you. At the sensation of your walls clenching around him, he moaned, biting his lip. “God, you’re so tight,” he told you, adding a second finger. You raised your hips at the contact, hands curling on his hair. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

His mouth came back to your breasts, sucking and licking your flesh. Jungkook was a mess, you realized — pressing down his hard member against your thigh, whining against your skin as his fingers curled inside you, sinking into your wetness. God, you weren’t made of steel. “I want it,” you told him, and he didn’t understand your words for a moment. “I want to feel you, Jungkook.”

And he didn’t need anything else. The boy moved away from your body and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor alongside the rest of your clothes. It was no time for hesitation— he didn’t know how much of his precious alone time he had left. “Condoms.” He pointed at his nightstand. “Top drawer.”

You turned around on the bed, reaching for the furniture as the boy unbuckled his belt and clumsily removed his pants. The mattress bounced beneath you as Jungkook tossed himself around, finding a way to lose his balance as he threw his pants on the ground. Much to his relief, you weren’t paying much attention to it.

He was already panting — in a mixture of excitement and his pathetic effort to remove his pants — by the time that you gave him the condom. “Do you put it on, or do you want me to?” You asked.

Jungkook had trained on enough bananas to know that he could do it, but he wasn’t gonna let the chance to have you touching him down there pass. “You do it, please.”

You nodded, sitting next to his expectant figure. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell in anticipation, his muscles glistening with the small droplets of sweat that decorated his caramel skin. His cock was hard and heavy against the fabric of his grey underwear, practically calling for your care.

Attentively, you watched as his abdomen tensed up at the feeling of one of your hands pressing down against his clothed erection, delicately moving towards his crown. A gasp tumbled from his lips as you rolled your thumb against it, noticing the wetness that had already accumulated beneath your hand, and he rolled his hips against the pressure. Really, Jungkook was too precious.

“Please, don’t tease,” he begged, eyes following your every move. His cock throbbed in your hands, needy. “I don’t think I can hold it much longer.”

With a hum of agreement, you moved your hand away from his erection, and pulled his underwear down gently. Jungkook whimpered at the fiction, and the way his cock was freed from its constraints, bouncing back against his abdomen. The smallest of touches was more than enough for him to lose himself.

“Shhh, it’s fine,” you calmed him down, slowly (too slowly) rolling the condom on him. His hands clenched into fists next to him, grabbing handfuls of the white sheets. Okay, maybe you were being a bit mean. “Just tell me what you want.”

Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, holding back a cry of frustration. “Ride me, please,” his words came out in a plea, his expression so permeated by need that you thought that he could cry if you teased him any further. God, everything was so perfect about him — the glistening in his onyx irises, the reddening of his lips as he bit down on them, trying to fight back a whimper as you placed yourself over him. “I— I need to feel you. I’m going crazy.”

There was no need for more convincing — again, you weren’t made of steel.

You sighed as you sank down on his member, one of your hands finding support against his pecs, as the other curled around his cock, guiding him inside you. Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head against the alabaster pillow, his flower-like lips opening to cry out at the sensation. “Oh fuck,” he cursed. “Oh, baby, that’s so good.”

Seeing him like that, so submissive, so deliciously responsive to your faintest of touches, was, at the very least, extremely erotic. You loved to see the way he flinched and whined at the sensation of your walls clenching around him, his hands unsure of where they should be on your body. Awfully slow, you rose your hips from him, almost letting him slip out, before you shifted your weight back down, watching as Jungkook moaned out your name.

God, he was really about to fall apart.

Slowly, you began setting a pace, moving up and down on his cock. It was a lot slower than Jungkook expected, but it was just the right speed to make him appreciate every sensation of your body wrapping his own.

“Feels good?” you asked, a bit breathless. The sensation of him filling you up was even better than you had anticipated, and, combined with his shameless exclamations of pleasure, you didn’t think that you’d last much longer either.

Before he could answer, a tremulous sigh ruptured upon his mouth, reverberating just behind his teeth. Jungkook took another second to find his words, inhaling sharply. “So good,” he spoke, and you almost whined out at the lust that ornamented his voice. “Can you move faster? Please?”

Maybe in different times, you’d take your time to provoke him a bit more. At that point, though, you’d do anything he wanted you to. “Yeah,” you agreed, doing as requested. The sound of your wetness and the slapping of skin against skin was lewd, filling the room alongside Jungkook’s voice. “Like this?”

“Fuck, yeah, like this,” he cried out, closing his eyes in absolute euphoria. He could feel the movement of your asscheeks against his palms, the sensation enough to drive him insane. Jungkook was already amazed at the fact that he didn’t embarrass himself with premature ejaculation the second that you removed his underwear — but it didn’t mean that he didn’t get close to it. The second his hands squeezed your ass, he was positive he would end the game a bit earlier than the two of you would like. “It— it feels so good. Please, don’t stop.”

With a moan, you threw your body forward, placing kisses on the curvature of his neck, a sensation that quickly sent shivers down his skin. The new angle made his cock hit even deeper inside you, causing for you both to melt in pleasure. “You feel so good,” you told him, nails digging against his flesh. The knot in your stomach was all too familiar, and you knew that you wouldn’t take much longer. “I love having you inside me.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s good.” He mumbled, only half aware of the words leaving his lips. Jungkook’s eyes were dazed and unfocused, looking at nowhere in particular, his fingertips digging in your flesh. “You’re… you’re getting tighter.”

“Y-Yeah,” you agreed, voice coming out in a moan. “I’m close.”

He swallowed hard. “I can help,” he said.

Before you could ask what he was trying to do, Jungkook moved his hand back to your center, two of his fingers playing with your clit. You gasped at the sensation, eyes closing as you kept riding him, rolling your hips, feeling as he reached for every part of you. It was all becoming too much, the pleasure that decorated his features, the delicious friction of his body against yours, the frail moans that dropped from his tongue like honey. He was just too much.

With a faint call of his name — a melody that would be stuck in his head forever —, you finally crossed the threshold of your orgasm, and came around him; morphing into a trembling and moaning mess. Jungkook watched, in absolute awe, as your face was monopolized by bliss, your teeth sinking down on your bottom lip and your eyes rolling back.

He removed his hand from your heat, placing it on your waist. Using every final ounce of energy in your body, you continued riding him. Through parted lids, you noticed that his thighs were starting to shake, signaling that he, too, was close. “Baby,” the boy called out, his fingers digging to the sides of your hips. Jungkook was both trying to guide your movements, and hold himself back to reality. It was a beautiful view — the way his expression lingered somewhere between delight and distress; his hips mindlessly trusting up against yours. “I think I’m gonna cum.”

You breathed out through your nose, trying to ignore the pleasure that, now, was turning into sensitivity. It felt good, in a way, but you were more focused on his relief at that point. “It’s okay, Kookie,” you told him, “you can let go.”

He had been so polite the entire time, with his “please” and “thank you’s. So, of course, when you told him that it was okay for him to cum, he did just as you requested.

Jungkook came with gasping breaths and a trembling, high-pitched moan, holding on to you as he thrusted his last sloppy advances towards your core. His hands, weak, fell on the bed besides him, clenching the sheets; eyelashes fluttering down as he dwelled on the afterglow of his pleasure. You could stay there forever, looking at the pink shade that colored his cheeks; the beautiful mess that his black hair had turned into; or the tears of relief that accumulated at the corner of his eyes.

But everything has to end, even the most beautiful ones.

His tongue came out to wet his lips, and his eyes, still hooded, met yours. Not even the biggest minds in the renaissance could’ve thought of an image so perfect, so ethereal. “You’re so amazing,” he praised. “That was… amazing.”

You smiled and leaned in to place a soft kiss against his lips. His member slipped out of you at the action, and his arms curled around your waist, keeping you in place. “You did pretty well,” you mumbled as you lazily curled up against his chest. Jungkook’s body was a delicious source of heat, and you could really get used to that. “I see a bright future ahead of you.”

He hummed, caressing your hair. Jungkook could finally smell it without being creepy, so that was a big victory for him. “You did most of the work,” he said.

“That’s not an issue.” You nuzzled his neck, pleasantly feeling as goosebumps spread throughout his body. Always so responsive. “I’ll let you take the lead next time, if that sounds good to you.”

Jungkook chuckled. “That’d be great, yeah,” he agreed. Part of him thought about using a few tricks he learned during his late-night research, but he wasn’t super sure that it would be a good idea. Maybe he should keep that card up his sleeve for a bit longer in case he needed to surprise you later. “Do you want to spend the night? It’s kind of late to go back to your place now.”

The words fell from his tongue with ease, surprising the boy for an instant. He noticed that he was much more comfortable in your presence, like the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place. Not because of the sex itself, he realized, but because of the vulnerability and intimacy that came with it. It happened just as it was supposed to.

“I’d love to.” You smiled, and placed a kiss against his neck. “But I’m going to kick you out if you start snoring.”

“Out of my own place?” He asked.

You sighed, voice filled by traces of your upcoming slumber. “Don’t you test me,” you spoke, wrapping your arms around him. “Medical school is killing me, I need some sleep. And I will get it no matter the price.”

Jungkook laughed at your tired words, one of his hands caressing your head in infinite delicacy. As he held to your body, curling so perfectly against his own, he knew that everything would be okay. And maybe he needed a good night of sleep too.

A few minutes later, as he started to feel the sensation of his consciousness slowly drifting away to the land of dreams, a bittersweet sentiment overtook his chest. There was an instant, even if ephemeral, in which Jungkook believed he would never see Yoongi and Taehyung again — after all, the two had already concluded their mission: Jungkook got the girl and there was nothing else left for them to do. In between two consecutive breaths, he felt both relief and solitude. Silence wasn’t as welcoming once he realized no voice could break it.

Though, his melodramatic moment was short-lived. Behind him, a known timbre cheered for him:

“I’m so proud, I feel like a soccer mom.”

2K notes · View notes

rosepetalmark · 3 years ago

Text

it was good until it wasn’t

↬ pairing: kim doyoung x reader ↬word count: 3k ↬ genre: angst, mentions of fluff ↬warnings: mentions of sex, it’s pretty sad (you may shed a tear or two i’m v sorry) ↬ synopsis: breakups suck, especially when you’re still in-love and don’t understand where you both went wrong.

he makes it look so easy.

ignoring your texts, coming home late, barely saying a word to you when you’re together. you can’t hate him for it though, you’re the exact same.

you wonder why he doesn’t break up with you already. your relationship was basically hopeless at this point and you both know it isn’t going anywhere- it hasn’t been going anywhere for months now.

it pains you seeing him not stare at you lovingly anymore. you grew so fond of the idea of spending hours on the phone talking about the dumbest things, staying up late watching reruns of your favourite shows, even making him do face masks with you when you wanted to do self care days. you knew he loved it of course, but he always played it off as something he detested because seeing you pout over his lack of interest in a sheet mask always made him love you ten times more.

you haven’t felt his touch in two months. it was like you were living with a ghost, the feeling of his presence ever so prominent, but the actual feeling and embracement of him completely diminished. every morning he’d wake you up by kissing both your cheeks, quiet laughter humming from his chest as he admired your sleepy presence in his quest to get you to start your day.

now you wake up to the sound of him sighing as he leaves your shared bed, his empty presence filling the quiet room, causing you to feel lonely.

never in the several years of knowing doyoung did you ever imagine that his presence would become something that no longer brought you happiness.

you’ve both drifted, but you’re still together- too stubborn to admit to yourselves and each other that this relationship has run its course, forming a cohabitation with one another rather than maintaining a loving, healthy relationship.

it’s complicated, you like to believe. trying to puzzle together when everything went wrong. but you can’t because all you remember is that one day you were both madly in love with one another and the next you acted as if you were strangers.

deep down you’re scared. you’ve spent so many years and time and effort in your relationship with doyoung that you don’t truly know what life outside of him is like.

you may not have long talks anymore or stay up late watching movies or even have sex- damn you missed the days where you both would divulge in sex multiple times a week, but gosh did you find solace in his presence.

when he’s not there in bed beside you when you wake up each morning you feel empty, like a piece of your heart has been ripped out of your body and hidden halfway across the world for you to find.

he’s all you’ve touched and laughed and connected with in years and to have that ripped away from you is beyond frightening.

he’s all you know.

you yearn for the days when you were fresh in love and could never keep your hands off each other, wanting to be in each other’s presence 24/7. sadly the days of two twenty years olds having quickies in the backseat of a car and drunkenly singing karaoke at three in the morning on friday nights at the local bar were long gone. you’re not two college kids in love anymore, just two completely different adults who fell out of it.

it hurts reminiscing about the way his hands would find your waist and how his chin dipped into your neck when he found you speaking with your friends at parties; the way he would sing to you when you had trouble falling asleep, bringing you to his piano to play you whatever melody he created earlier in the day just to bring you comfort, even if it meant he was losing sleep in the process.

you especially miss his attempts at making you iced coffee in the morning. it was such a mundane act, but no matter how hard he tried and how closely he followed the instructions you gave him (not as if making iced coffee was hard anyways), he’d always make it too bitter. but you still drank it anyway, because you loved doyoung with every fibre in your being, and anything he did for you made you appreciate and fall in love with him even more. everything he did for you showed how deeply he loved and cared for you.

now you don’t get any of it. no obnoxious flirting when out in public. no beautiful nights falling asleep to his soft, angelic voice, wrapped up warmly in his tender arms. and especially no bitter, watered down iced coffee.

you’re lucky enough if he holds your hand when out in public with friends, not wanting anyone to clue in on the lack of intimacy and love that ceases to exist between the two of you.

you used to be that annoying couple who couldn’t get enough of one another, always finding ways to be in each other’s presence whenever you went out together, wanting to show the world that you were his and he was yours. now you can barely look each other in the eyes for more than five minutes without an unnecessary argument beginning to brew.

you wish you could have that all back. the routine. the peace. the love you both shared. you’re just two adults who can’t even be mature enough to break off a six year relationship because you’re both too comfortable with the thought of one another; too scared to leave what you’ve built as a couple to realize that this once great love affair has turned into something so sad and toxic, pulling you back from what you both deserve in life.

your friends have been telling you to sit down and speak to him about your feelings, his urging you both to call it quits for months now, claiming you’re making your friendship dynamic awkward, and in the end only harming yourselves. but they don’t understand what it’s like to have something so beautiful ripped from your hands without a warning, because that’s what this all felt like. as if someone swooped in and stole your bond with doyoung, when in actuality it was just the two of you growing apart-one thing you never thought would ever occur.

those four dry months eventually turned into a fifth, and that’s when you knew you had to pull the plug. you couldn’t keep living like this- wasting your life and heart and energy on a relationship that ended so long ago. it was draining the life out of you both and it was painfully evident in your faces.

the days of crying over him have long passed, making it much easier to process that you won’t ever be with him again, mentally checking out after the first two months this distance became a regular occurrence. that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt ending a love that once was your everything.

you remember so clearly the day doyoung asked you out. it was a monday after a lecture you both shared, the both of you walking alongside campus, too invested in your conversations with one another to say goodbye. you both knew you had feelings for one another, every interaction between the two of you held an abundance of smiles and rosy red cheeks.

he bit the bullet and asked if you wanted to grab dinner some time, just the two of you and away from your chaotic friend group, wanting it to be an actual date and not a group outing.

that was six years ago, and the butterflies you felt in your stomach the moment he said he wanted to date you still linger when you think back to such heartfelt innocence.

when you finally decided enough was enough and the words eventually left your mouth, he wasn’t even upset. he showed no sign of emotion, a stoic expression stuck on his tender face, only a nod of agreement following your difficult confession.

he knew he didn’t have to say anything and you didn’t expect him to. there was no fighting for something that didn’t exist anymore. doyoung may have been your boyfriend by title, but these last few months he was just doyoung. not your lover. not your best friend. just doyoung.

a stranger you know who’s smile and laugh and kisses you’ll forever have ingrained in your brain, but have not come into pure contact with for an unreasonable amount of time.

and you can’t even hate him for this breakup because he hasn’t done anything wrong. you simply grew apart, and you hate how you drug it out for so long where it got to the point where you can’t even look him into the eyes without feeling some sort of pain and resentment. the only thing you wish you could go back and change was to talk about it, because who knows, the both of you could have either resolved whatever underlying issues you had, or you would’ve been broken up by now- not stranded and confused as to where your life and relationship is going.

you never pictured you’d end up like this, assuming by the time you were in your late twenties you’d be engaged, with a dog, constantly looking at homes online for you and doyoung to one day grow your future family in. you so desperately wanted to be his forever, the one he turned to for everything. the father of your children, the greatest love of your life the entire world had to offer.

that was all in the past now.

the entire “official” breakup didn’t even hit you until doyoung was moving his stuff out of your shared apartment, little pieces of him vanishing as each minute passed.

the picture of your two year anniversary is no longer on display in the living room, the frame facing the table to signal that the once happy couple in that old photograph are no longer together and madly in love.

the pastel flower magnets doyoung loved to collect and place on the fridge ceased to exist, leaving your kitchen slightly less colourful and fun as they were tossed away in one of the many random boxes he got from the hardware store earlier.

even the ugly rustic coffee table you hated but he adored- something that totally clashed with the aesthetic of the apartment but reminded doyoung of his childhood, all removed from your shared space and never to be seen in your presence again. you begged doyoung for a new one years ago but he always managed to convince you it had charm, always flashing you a wide grin in his process to win your heart over. you never thought the day would come where you’d miss seeing it in your living room.

everything was so clean and spacious. everything was gone.

it was weird seeing your once cluttered home look so different. yet despite all the space, every single memory and experience you shared with doyoung was ever present in your mind, overwhelming you all at once as no future memories between the two of you will be made.

it felt like just yesterday you both signed the lease, accidentally spilling red wine on the brand new white rug doyoung bought an hour after you got the keys, knowing you were eyeing it for months online, refusing to buy it until you officially had a place together. you were both so excited to start your lives here. to be young and to evolve and to explore your relationship in a manner more romantic and mature than you had the last few years.

all his instruments and songbooks that were once scattered in the corner of your living room are gone, packed in their cases and in doyoung’s car, awaiting their new home once he takes his remaining items and leaves.

it hurts the most when thinking about the bedroom. you haven’t slept there since he started packing his things four days ago, not wanting to get emotional over half the room and its belongings disappearing with what felt like a snap of the fingers.

but you had to make your way in there now, because all you could hear coming from the thin white wall down the hallway were soft, hiccupped sobs- such emotion you weren’t familiar with in months.

part of you wants to let him be and pretend like you hear nothing just so he can gather his thoughts and belongings and be on his way.

but you can’t. because despite how much you tell yourself that this is for the best and you’re past everything, you’re not. there’s a huge part of you that still cares so deeply for doyoung and you wouldn’t ever wish pain on him.

quietly walking into your bedroom towards your once shared bed, you sit beside him. grabbing his hand, you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, reminding you of the days you’d go on long walks, him never letting go of you because he never wanted to break physical contact.

“hi.” you whisper, not entirely sure how to spark a conversation with him. you haven’t been this vulnerable with him in what feels like forever, the last time you saw him cry was over two years ago when your relationship was seemingly at its best. he hasn’t been this upset was when he thought he lost taeyong’s dog, but it turned out that it was yuta’s day to watch him while he went to work.

“hey.” he says, his voice raspy and shaky due to the tears, his face red with anxiety.

“so we’re really doing this, huh?” you ask, your voice beginning to shake as well. seeing doyoung cry always breaks your heart, and the fact that he’s doing so after you both ended things makes you want to crawl in a hole and never leave.

this was hitting you too hard. so much harder than you could’ve ever imagined. you thought that because you both just fell apart and seemed unbothered by such a drastic change in your lives and relationship that he’d pack his things and you’d both be on with your lives. but now that you’re both separating from one another for good when all you’ve known was each other for years, it’s soul crushing.

doyoung is here in your once shared bedroom holding your hand and crying with you because you both failed to make your relationship work despite having such strong feelings for one another.

you love this man so much, yet you know there’s nothing you can do to bring you both back to the state you were once in. you’re different people now, and you can’t mold back into the two young, horny, and madly in love college sophomores anymore thinking you’re going to be together forever.

“god i hate this!” he yells in between sobs, his face getting more and more red as the tears stream down his face. and you hate this too, because you didn’t think this whole process would cause each of you to bawl your eyes out because you don’t want to leave a love and comfort you’ve both outgrown.

you wiped his tears with your fingers, caressing his cheeks to reassure him that none of this is his fault. you needed to be strong for him and yourself, because unfortunately this is life and even the shittiest things happen to good people.

falling out of love unfortunately falls into that category.

he places a kiss on your forehead and wraps his arms tightly around your frame as a final goodbye, embracing all of you within these last few moments as a reminder of how much love and respect he has for you.

“so this is it.” he whispers softly, slowly getting up from the bed and untangling himself from his previous hold on you, acting as if his emotional outburst didn’t even happen, composing himself to make this already hard process the slightest bit easier.

matching his actions, you get up as well and follow him out of the bedroom, glancing back at your half empty room and feeling your heart shatter.

no more stealing his sweaters when you’re cold and want to be comfy. no more late nights of talking or making love. no more doyoung.

“this is it.” you whisper back, not having much to say, the tightness in your chest growing further as you continue to relish in such heartbreak together. you were each other’s first serious loves, and not having that constant in your lives will be such a heart wrenching adjustment.

“i love you, doyoung.” you say, needing to remind him that there will always be a part of him in your heart and that you’re sorry things ended this way.

“i know, love. i’ll always love you. i’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“i’d like that.” you nod, the emotions filling up your chest, suddenly making it hard to breathe knowing this is all happening now. “be safe getting to your apartment.”

“always.” he winked, tears evident in his eyes as he began to turn his body away from yours and towards the final box beside the front door, turning the knob and leaving for good- gone from the love and home you’ve both invested so much time and warmth into.

you’ve spent so much of your life with this man, planned so much and anticipated such a beautiful future just for it to end and for you both not to know how to fix the broken pieces you left each other in.

maybe someday in the future you and doyoung will get back together and plan that beautiful wedding and have those three beautiful kids in a big house with a pool and a baby french bulldog.

but as for now you are letting go.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct smut #kim doyung #nct #nct 127 #nct angst #kim doyoung scenarios

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butterysalt · 4 years ago

Text

Fun | Sherlock x platonic!Reader

Pairing: Sherlock x platonic!gender neutral reader

Request ( @a-paper-cut ):

Word Count: 2,202

Contains: Mentions of child abduction, platonic fluffiness and banter :)

A/N: AAAAAAA thank you so much, lovely! This was my first request and I was SUPER excited to write it hehe. I’ve been on a slight creative block lately and I enjoyed writing this so much. I hope this fic does justice for what you wanted and I hope that you are doing amazingly 🧡🧡

It was an early, snowy winter morning in London. You and Sherlock Holmes have been mind-boggled by a puzzling case for the past week. The detective proposed that the two of you go on a walk to allow some fresh air in the brains again. This suggested that even his extensive mind palace and composing weren’t helping the genius. Not that you were complaining about sharing a nice stroll with Sherlock. It had been years after all since you two had spent any casual time together. Like what people normally did in their free time, anyway.

The two of you stepped side by side, feet planting in the thin sheet of snow on the ground in unison. You grinned a little at the matched body language. You and Sherlock always had special ways to subtly communicate with one another. It was like a part of your minds were connected.

“Anything yet?” the tall brunette questioned. Your lip twitched upward. “Don’t rush the process, Sherlock. Just enjoy the moment. Live in it a little.” Sherlock’s long drawl could be heard next to you. His walking strides were growing longer as his patience began to thin out. You could practically hear the subtle gnawing of his teeth.

“We’ve only been walking 5 minutes,” you flouted, “Loosen up a bit.” Sherlock snickered to himself, messing with his gloved hands. “You’re already trying to read me?”

“You’re walking like you’ve got a stick up your arse. It’s clear you’re agitated,” you jested. The curly-haired detective sneered at you and kicked a clump of ice out of the way. “I can’t think, Y/n. We have potential homicide to solve and we’re here drudging in the snow.”

“Remember, this was your idea, genius. Unless you can come up with something else, this is all we’ve got.” Sherlock went silent, chewing the inside of his cheek. His mind wandered to try and come up with something snarky to throw at you. Perhaps a witty comeback that would leave you in doubt. The headache he was dealing with was enough to strike him in his train of thought. He shook it off and his focus returned to the matter of urgency. Unsolved case.

Sherlock lifted his face to the sky, blowing a hot cloud of breath into the chilly London air. He tugged his scarf a little closer to his neck, shoving his gloved hands down into his thick coat. The breath cloud was a common habit of Sherlock’s during cold weather. It mimicked the effect of blowing cigarette smoke, just without the tar and nicotine. Fortunately, the only time the detective abused drugs anymore was when cases had him horribly stumped; thanks to you and John’s efforts, his drug use was much more controlled now.

“Five missing children. All between the ages of 7 and 9. We know that the connection is tied to their private schools. Three different religious private schools within a 10 kilometer radius — so, fairly close together. The parents reported their children coming home with expensive gifts from a mysterious donor shortly before they went missing. They referred to the perpetrator as ‘Ray’. Anyone handing out shiny trinkets to naive children is either a philanthropist or a predator. I’d like to bet on the latter.”

You sighed, mentally reviewing all of the evidence from the case in your head. “But all of the children knew basic safety protocols: don’t talk to strangers, never accept anything from strangers, the whole package. Their parents are terribly traditional. They never would have let any of them see the light if they broke any of those rules. So the chances are near impossible that they would have fallen for such typical child abduction tricks.”

“Near impossible, L/n. That means there’s still a possibility and possible is all we need to screw this up,” Sherlock tutted. He blew another large cloud of air, shaking some light snow off his curls. You frowned, “The suspects. We’ve interrogated the popes, teachers, parents… who are we missing?”

Sherlock stopped walking. You turned to check up on him, finding him with his eyes shut. “Maybe we’re asking the wrong questions…”

“Of course we’re asking the wrong questions! We have all the pieces in our hands but no instructions, Sherlock. We’re running in circles with this case,” you walked over to a public railing, leaning against it and looking out across the long white blanket that stretched to the horizon.

He joined your side shortly after, bending down to pick up some rocks to toss down the snowy hill and watch as they made skinny trails in the frosty powder. Sherlock sighed out, exasperated and worn out. “We’re not getting anywhere by mulling over it, are we?”

You smiled at him and shook your head. You pulled your coat a little tighter around yourself. “That’s why I’m here to keep you in check. It’s good to get some air, you know? Christ knows when’s the last time you did that simply because you wanted to.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow perked up and he faced you with a blank expression. “How do you mean?” Your eyes widened a little, unsure of how you should pick out your next words. “Well… you know, you don’t exactly, uh…” Nervously, your eyes flicked up to his. He was watching your expression very carefully.

“You don’t spend a lot of time for yourself,” you said simply. Sherlock frowned in disagreement. “I spend a lot of time by myself. I thought you knew me better than that,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your back against the cold railing now, crossing your arms. “In your mind palace, Sherlock. I mean you don’t do things you enjoy.”

“Who said I don’t enjoy things?” he countered your query. You found yourself forming a cold sweat, debating on how to deliver your message. “Hobbies?”

“Violin.”

“Meh. Parties?”

“You disturb me.” Your best friend’s disgust made you cackle. “See, that’s my point! You don’t know how to have fun anymore. What happened to old Sherlock?”

Now this was a personal offense against Sherlock. “What? You don’t think I’m fun?” Sherlock sounded incredibly appalled by your claim. A hot cloud of air rose to the sky when you scoffed.

“Holmes, you are probably the farthest thing when it comes to the definition of fun!”

“Well, probability-wise, that’s highly improbable when Mycroft exists.”

“His poshness makes up for it. You’re just irritating.” Sherlock puffed out his red cheeks, nudging you playfully. “Oh, come on. You must admit that I’m at least an interesting character?”

You pondered in fake thought, scrunching your face together. “Interesting is debatable. Fun? That’s foreign territory, Sherlock.” The tall man grimaced deeply at your bluntness that he clearly had issues with. “What do you mean by ‘Old Sherlock’? What was good about the ‘old me’? I consider myself much more refined in the present day.”

Old memories of the two of you hanging out with one another as teenagers came back to you. A smile melted on your face from the warm feelings of nostalgia, the chilliness from the snowfall leaving your body.

“You used to prank Mycroft all the time. Everything was always a competition with you and me; we would go from racing down the neighborhood to reach my house first or rush to finish homework and claim the telly before the other could. Oh! We would always make up fake cases, too, trying to entertain a mystery that didn’t even exist,” you laughed to yourself, “Look at us now.”

Sherlock grumbled at the reminder of your old shenanigans. He wasn’t always the fondest of his younger self. But he had to admit he was reckless, even as a child. It was a simpler time and kids didn’t have much to fret or fear.

“Now you’re all enigmatic and stoic with your flipped up coat collar and scary cheekbones. The difference is so disappointing, it’s sickening,” you gagged. Sherlock slipped off his glove and jabbed his freezing hand against your neck, making you exclaim at the coldness and shove him backward. He wore a victorious smirk at your suffering. You pointed a hard finger at him, holding back your own laughter to prove a point.

“NO, that’s not being fun, Sherlock. That’s torture- sadism! You’re just an arse!” He threw his arms in the air, tossing his glove in your face. “It’s subjective! I can be fun,” he insisted.

“You’re predictable, Holmes. You don’t remember what good humor is and it shows in your actions. You pick everything up from books and telly. You can’t surprise me anymore,” you declared. Sherlock’s expression contorted into shock as he stared at you in disbelief. You had left the great Sherlock Holmes baffled. The silence was deafening — music to your ears.

When you thought you were winning this argument, a special glint quickly shone in Sherlock’s eyes. Your expression dropped and then you were pushed backward. There was no railing behind you anymore to catch you.

As you were falling, you naturally grasped for something to hold on to. In this case, Sherlock’s coat. The evil smirk on his face was immediately replaced with shock then fear as he was crashing hard into you. Gravity did the rest of the work. With the momentum you had already begun, dragging Sherlock down with you was one of the worst possible outcomes of the situation. A crude curse slipped past his lips and both of you latched onto each other because there was nothing else to brace with.

What was initially meant to be a playful fall down the snowy hill turned into a rolling battle full of frantic thrashing and screaming as both of your bodies thumped and tangled with each other. The two of you occasionally bounced a few inches off the ground and crashed back into the ground, knocking the breath out of both of you. The wild human avalanche down the hill was finally put to a stop when you rolled into a tree. With a loud OOMPH, you and Sherlock flopped into the ground, groaning and croaking in pain. Neither of you moved for the first passing moments, unable to process what just happened.

Your fall was broken when you landed on top of Sherlock, his body sprawled out in the cold snow, rasping heavily. Some snow fell off your form and your arms shook as you propped yourself up, no longer caring about the fact that you applied all the pressure in your friend’s ribs.

“You alright, mate?” you panted, checking up on Sherlock, eyes analyzing him for any serious injuries.

“You take my breath away.” You sputtered and shook your head at his ridiculous humor. “Aren’t you just romantic?” He squinted his eyes and flashed a sarcastic smile but groaned out, “No, really. Please get off my chest.”

“Oh God, sorry,” you scrambled off of him and he rolled over into the snow, gasping for air as he clutched his side in pain. You punched him in the shoulder. “You bloody twat, Sherlock Holmes! Pushing me down a hill by Jove’s sake!”

“I remember it being much more fun when we were younger,” he grunted out, pushing himself onto his forearms. And just then, his eyes burst wide open. His face slack-jawed as his brain computed at top speed. He was onto something.

“Sherlo-”

“FUN, Y/n,” he articulated, scrambling over to you and grabbing you by the shoulders. You stiffened and backed away, startled by his abrupt realization.

“Oh, Y/n, you are brilliant! This is why we work together!”

“What?! What are you-”

“The kids were abducted because they were having fun! ‘Ray’ is Remus Stooge, another private school kid in the area. The Stooge family owns several of the land plots around this corner of London and they’re the ones funding all three schools — The Stooge’s are plenty wealthy. The children were going to Remus’s home, ditching class time to get a personal house tour of his daddy’s money. The fancy car rides, luxurious delights, shiny sneakers and tailored clothing… Who wouldn’t pass up on an opportunity like that? It only makes sense why they were lured in so easily! Their rich best pal Remus has been the one inviting them right into the trap!”

“What- Sherlock! Where is this all coming from?! How do you even-”

“Trust me, Y/n!! I have it figured out- It all makes sense!” he interjected again. The look on your faces was bizarre. You tossed a handful of snow at him as he blocked it with his hands. “NO?? It doesn’t! This is so sudden-”

Sherlock was on his feet in an instant, brushing off the powder from his coat and yanking you up. His eyes were gleaming with excitement. “We have to go tell Lestrade, now! Call John and get over to the Stooge’s place!”

“To arrest the kid?!”

“No, the butler!” He grabbed your gloved hand and dragged you up the steep white hill. You shook your head wildly, “Holmes, you better have a bloody good explanation for this in the cab or there will be hell to pay.” Sherlock smirked triumphantly and squeezed your hand.

“Come, L/n! The game is on!”

Requests are open! <3

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock fic #reader insert #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x platonic reader #platonic #fluff #humor #request #gnc #gender neutral reader #a-paper-cut #prompt list request

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safertokiss · 4 years ago

Text

Lost in Translation

A/N: Heyyyyy guys...remember when I used to post like every two weeks? Yeesh that’s awkward...but I’m backkkkk woooooooo party time! I was so excited that my discord buddies organized another fic swap because it was so much fun the first time. This time around I was chosen to write a doozy for the wonderful @writing-in-april and I have decided to bless you all with a beautiful subby boy. Sub Spencer lives in my head rent free, no cap. So sit back, relax and pretend it's you getting fricken railed. Peace out girl scouts;)

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT hehe oh yeah and fluff

Word Count: 4.8k

ENJOY:)

~~~

MASTERLIST

~~~

For as long as she could remember, Y/n had always wanted to learn Russian.

So, naturally, when she found out that their newest case involved two lovers who also happened to be Russian criminals trying to escape the United States government, she simply couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to become more involved in the investigation.

It’s not that she’d never been on a stakeout for the Bureau before, in fact she’d probably been on so many at this point that she’d lost count. The only difference that this specific stakeout brought to her life was the fact that it was her first one to have ever been shared with Spencer Reid.

Her and the young doctor had lived in the same apartment building since her first day at the BAU, but their relationship pretty much began and ended at that. Of course they greeted each other whenever they passed in the halls of their building and ricocheted off of each other’s theories whenever necessary during their meetings in the round table room, but it would be a lie to label their relationship as anything other than casual acquaintances as well as amicable coworkers.

She had never been able to fully get a grasp on the elusive Dr. Reid. The fact that he was already such an integral member of the F.B.I. at the ripe age of 25 astounded and, well to be honest, perplexed her. Not that she doubted his abilities or intelligence in any way, quite the opposite really. She admired how utterly brilliant he proved to be day in and day out, even with the shy exterior he presented himself with to the world. Well, shy was definitely more of an understatement.

She had never met someone more socially awkward in her entire life, but with that being said, she couldn’t help but find it endearing and pretty dang adorable. Y/n constantly found herself enjoying his pathetic attempts at human interaction on a daily basis. From the nervous stutters to the out of this world hand gestures, there was much for her to dissect about the young doctor. And while she could openly admit that he was quite easy on the eyes, in a boyish-innocent kind of way, she had never really been able to see him in that sort of light.

If she thought his normal social interaction skills were entertaining to witness, his reactions to any of the conversations that took a more raunchy turn were to die for. The speed at which his features would ripen red like a tomato whenever anything of a sexual nature was brought up during cases was truly amazing, impressive even. However, unlike the rest of their team, she knew he wasn’t completely innocent. The walls in their apartment were as good as paper when it came to thickness, so it wasn’t that big surprise that the sounds created within them carried fairly well.

Or at least that was what she had discovered after the first night she heard him touching himself just through her bedroom wall.

Yes, it was less than ideal that their bedroom walls just happened to be adjacent to each other, but what could she do about it? It wasn’t as though she never sought out her own pleasure while alone in her apartment...although she would bet money that she was much better at withholding her noises. Instead, she learned to adapt to the sounds from next door and continue on with her life, having accepted that guys will in fact be dudes, no matter how innocent and meek they may appear.

When her boss had explained the nature of the assignment to them, there wasn’t anything of significance that had jumped out at her. It was all pretty standard instruction. They would wait, parked, in a government issued SUV overnight at a location close to the whereabouts of the criminals and simply translate their conversations using the mics that were planted prior. While Hotch knew that Y/n herself couldn’t understand Russian, it was common knowledge that the resident genius easily could transcribe the language.

And that was how she found herself cramped next to Spencer Reid in the stagnant vehicle, pen and paper in hand, patiently waiting for the translations to begin.

It was almost completely silent inside the car, apart from the quiet whirring of the heat coming through the vents, and she could basically feel the nerves coming off of the man next to her in waves. That’s why she was completely thrown off her game when his timid voice was the first to break through the silence that had encompassed the space they inhabited together.

“So um Y/n..h-how have you been recently?”

She did her best to hide the small smirk that started to form on her face from the stuttering mess that spilled out of his mouth. She definitely didn’t want to make him feel even worse about himself so she decided to humour his adorable attempt at conversation with her...well...sort of.

“Oh ya know Reid, just counting the days until I get some action. How about you?” If she thought he was sputtering nervously before, that was nothing compared to this treasure.

“Oh um well uh I-I mean...I don-I don’t...uh...w-what was the question a-again?”

This time she couldn’t stop the airy chuckle that escaped her lips as she leaned over and patted him gently on his thigh.

“Relax Reid, I’m just fucking around with you. Well for the most part...I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to some action, but that’s a whole can of worms I am not about to open during a stakeout”, Y/n laughed, not at all missing the steadily spreading blush that coated his sharp features.

“Yeah...no..yeah right of course...I t-totally knew you were just um fu-messing with me! Uh we should probably um r-review our assignment...you know just so we’re all s-set before we start.” How adorable.

“Aye-aye captain Reid. Ok so..”, she muttered while fiddling with the listening device to secure the right frequency. “...we just have to wait until they get back so we’re in range of their conversations. That’s when you’ll have your time to shine and prove yourself as the resident genius once again. And I’m sure that you’re aware that I don’t know a lick of the Russian language so I will be the best damn transcriber for you that the world has ever seen”, she finished with a smirk.

Even Reid chuckled a bit at her words, the ever-present blush slowly creeping back upon his face and neck.

“I’ll uh-I’ll hold you to that then.” Y/n had to admit she particularly liked to see the boy smiling, especially when it was the result of her own words. His innocence seemed to call out to her like a siren and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Oh-oh there they are! Ok get the pen and paper ready because as soon as they’re in range I’ll start translating.”

Getting themselves situated, they waited the few seconds it took for the couple to get close enough to the vicinity of the SUV for their conversations to begin to be broadcasted through their system.

“Как вы думаете, они идут по нашему следу?”

“Do you think they’re on our trail?”, Spencer easily understands, leaning slightly closer to her so his words were clearly heard.

“Ни за что. У этих глупых американцев нет шансов поймать нас.”

“No way. Those stupid Americans don’t stand a chance at catching us.”

At this point, the couple had already disappeared behind the door at the entrance of their current base, leaving only their words to give the closely listening agents much needed context clues.

“Я когда-нибудь говорил тебе, как сильно мне нравится твоя уверенность?”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your confidence?”

Even Spencer let himself smile at the chuckle that left Y/n’s lips. “Awww how cute...they’re flirting with each other over mass murder. I strive for that kind of intimacy.”

“Да у тебя есть. Но почему бы тебе не показать мне, насколько тебе это нравится.”

“Yes, you have. But why don’t you show me just how much you love it.”

Uh oh, Y/n thought to herself. Not a second after the untimely thought permeated her brain, the sounds of wet lips sloppily colliding against each other filled the otherwise silent vehicle. After the few seconds of shock wore off, their heads whipped to face each other, eyes wide and mouths wide open. “Huh...well this was certainly an unexpected turn.”

“I uh um-uh well w-what do we do now?”, Tomato Boy nervously sputtered out over the chorus of moans and groans that were currently bouncing off the SUV’s walls. As unexpected as the present situation was, she was absolutely eating up his reaction to the crude sounds.

“Well, Hotch did say he wanted us to take down every single word that was shared between them so...I guess we’re just gonna have to keep moving forward with the translations. You can do that, can’t you Reid?”, she explained, not even attempting to hide the growing smirk on her face.

“Yeah! Yes! Mhmm I can do that, I c-can definitely do t-that.”, he gushed, trying to subtly clear his throat to clear the steadily growing tension in his body.

“Good to hear, Doc.”, she cheekily replied just as the raunchy sounds echoing through the system transitioned to different methods of communication, more legible ones.

“Ты была для меня такой хорошей девочкой. Я думаю, ты заслуживаешь награды.”

Quickly clearing his throat once more, he jumped back into action, with what Y/n noticed was considerably less confidence than before. “You’ve b-been such a good g-girl for me. I think you deserve a r-reward.” Spencer’s voice had noticeably dropped to a whisper by the end of the sentence, forcing Y/n to lean closer to be able to hear his translations, only magnifying the already present tension in the air.

“Пожалу��ста, папа, я сделаю что угодно.”

“P-please daddy.” His voice broke at the end igniting something deep inside Y/n’s being. “I’ll do anything.” In that moment she truly believed he would do anything, his own words or not, based on the obvious strain in his pants that her eyes glanced over, and also by the way his skin completely succumbed to goosebumps as her warm breath caressed the shell of his ear. She didn’t really know what the hell was happening, why her body was absolutely loving the way he gradually leaned into her’s, submitting all of his vulnerabilities into her hands.

“Тебе это нравится, не так ли, маленькая шлюшка. Как член папы глубоко внутри тебя?”

She watched the way he inhaled a deep breath and released a high-pitched sigh before continuing on, subtly pressing her legs together to control the excitement thrumming through her body at his pathetic tone and mannerisms.

“You like t-that don’t you, you little-uh-you little s-slut?” From their close proximity, she could clearly make out the speedy heartbeat clambering against his chest as he spoke. And if that was the case, he must’ve been able to feel hers as well. “Like daddy’s c-cock deep inside of y-you?” She could’ve sworn she saw his dick twitch slightly in his pants.

“Маленькая шлюшка уже придет за мной? Тогда умоляйте об этом. Бля, умоляю позволить тебе кончить.”

Y/n certainly did not miss the airy sigh that escaped his lips, watching as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple, confidently guessing it was not from the heat that had been coming through the vents.

“Is the little-little s-slut gonna come for me already? B-beg for it then. Fucking beg f-for me to let you c-come.” Spencer was speedily falling apart at the seams and she was loving it. More than loving it. She was craving it. Craving the little noises that he was trying to stop from escaping his lips. Craving the way he slightly bounced his leg in an attempt to control his arousal, which was futile because it had obviously already reached its full potential in the confines of his khaki slacks.

“Пожалуйста, папа. Пожалуйста, позволь мне прийти. Мне это надо. Пожалуйста.”

Without even hearing the words translated back to her, she could hear the utter desperation in the girl’s voice. She no longer needed to understand the Russian language to be able to finish the translation, and as she sat there with her thighs tightly pressed together, she knew exactly what it meant.

“Please!” The utter need that was present in the original audio was somehow mirrored perfectly by the young doctor’s breathy voice, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, a prominent vein popping through the skin of his smooth forehead. “Please, p-please, please let me come. I n-need it. Please!”

“Приди за мной, детка.”

Deciding that she could regret her actions in the morning, Y/n quickly grabbed his face before he could translate, angling his head so she could whisper directly into his ear at the same time he spoke the last line of the night.

“Come for me baby.”, they both spoke at the exact same time.

Pulling away as fast as possible, she watched his clamped eyes shoot open as the most obnoxiously loud moan she had ever heard escaped the poor kid, his whole body spasming as a result. And using the large stain on the crotch of his pants as a guide, she was pretty certain she knew what had happened.

For the next few minutes there was silence in the SUV, apart from Spencer’s heavy breathing as he came down of course, leading them to believe the couple had fallen asleep after their...activities. Of course she wanted nothing more than to tease the trembling mess next to her, but she could already tell he was mortified beyond belief because of what happened so she didn’t want to make it any worse for him than it already was.

After waiting a few extra minutes just to make sure that they had actually gone to sleep, the pair drove away from the stakeout location, Spencer not having said a word since his...big finish. As much as she loved watching him fall apart in front of her, she really didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable around her.

“Well that was certainly an unexpected turn of events for the night, huh?”, she said, lightly chuckling with the intent of lightening his mood. She was very glad to see it had the intended effect.

“Uh y-yeah...you could definitely say that again.”, he mumbled with the ghost of a smile on his plump lips, though she could still clearly make out the blush coating his features.

“So hey, I know that you usually take the metro, but I’d be more than happy to give you a ride home after we drop the SUV off at the office if you want.”, she warmly smiled in his direction without taking her eyes completely off the road.

“Oh um..yeah that would be perfect. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it Reid.”

~~~

The rest of the ride back to the office was pretty much spent in silence, but it was much more comfortable than it had been before, which was a huge relief. After dropping the keys to the SUV in the lock box inside, the two agents piled into Y/n’s car to go back home to their shared building. On their way back she considered just asking him if he wanted to ride with her everyday just to make his life a little easier in the long run.

Once they got to the parking lot and exited the vehicle, they began walking towards the entrance together, the awkward tension from before creeping back into the air around them. Soon enough, they found themselves standing in front of their respective doors, both unsure of how they were supposed to end the night’s interactions. After a few moments of painful silence and eye contact, Y/n was the first one to rip off the band-aid.

“So...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Reid?” He seemed to be broken out of his trance by the sound of her voice, snapping back to attention.

“Huh? Oh yeah uh yes of course. S-see you tomorrow Y/n. Goodnight.” He scampered into his apartment before she could even get a chance to respond to his bidding.

“Goodnight.”, she whispered to no one other than herself as she unlocked her door and headed inside to shower quickly before diving into her soft sheets.

She was sitting up in her bed, book in hand, with only the small glow of her reading lamp illuminating her room when she heard it. Of course she knew immediately what they were, a talent that had developed and strengthened from living adjacent to a pretty much pubescent boy.

The tell-tale sound of moans and groans vibrating right through her wall.

She knew she probably shouldn’t be listening, something about a violation of privacy or whatever, but she just couldn’t help it. He sounded so desperate it was driving her insane. So much in fact that she was in the process of skimming her own hand downwards when she was interrupted by a certain something from the Doc’s room.

“Y/n! Oh god, please. Please.”

Oh. Oh.

Not even giving herself a second to consider her actions, she was up on her feet basically sprinting to his door, pajamas and all. Not even bothering with knocking, she noticed it was unlocked and let herself in, beelining for what she assumed was his bedroom by the increasing volume as she approached it. Standing in his doorframe, she was utterly mesmerized. There he was, sprawled across his sheets, completely bare with sweat coating his hair as he rapidly pumped his angry, red cock, her name tumbling from his lips like a chant.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” She smirked as she watched his head shoot up to where she was standing, his hand immediately stilling it’s rapid movements. Watching the panic spread on his face was intoxicating to her as she slowly approached his bed.

“Y/n! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I uh-I didn’t um...” His words trailed off and his eyes widened as he watched her slowly begin removing her clothes as she moved closer to him.

“Shhhhhh.” She managed to remove both her shirt and pajama pants in the short trip over to his bed and she had no intention of stopping there. Now standing directly in front of him, she let her eyes wander over his still frame completely, soaking in the amazement in his dark eyes and the slight tremble that was periodically rippling through his body. Maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it pool on the floor next to her.

It was honestly shocking his eyes didn’t actually fall onto the floor with how far they bulged out of their sockets, a small moan leaving his mouth.

She giggled at his enthusiasm before bringing her soft hands up to caress his face gently, his body shuddering at the contact. “Do you want me to keep going baby boy?” Taking a second to process the question that had left her lips, he slowly nodded while looking her in the eyes, his own full of awe.

Happy with his answer, she reached for the edge of her panties before pushing them down to join the other pieces of clothing already inhabiting his floor. Spencer couldn’t speak. He could barely even breathe. Five minutes ago he had been jerking off to his neighbor, who also happened to be his coworker, and now said neighbor was crawling onto his bed, completely naked, with a wicked smirk on her face.

Straddling his lap, but making sure that there was no actual contact, she reached up to cup his face again, slowly rubbing circles into his defined cheekbone. “Is this ok baby boy? Is this what you want?”, she cooed.

Spencer looked like he honestly might cry from the pure compassion laced within her words, but still found a way to nervously nod his head in affirmation of her questions. With a warm smile on her face, she leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his lower jaw before continuing up the side of his face, basking in the small whimpers that fell from his pretty lips. Finally reaching his ear, she let her warm breath tease him before proceeding.

“Do you want me to take control of you? Is that what you want sweet boy?” While the whine that immediately escaped him was answer enough, she pulled back searching for a more concrete answer to her question. “Hmmmm, you’d like that?”

“Yes.”, he whispered, nodding his head anxiously.

While he was answering she had leaned back towards his face, placing soft kisses all over. “As you wish baby boy.”, she whispered, changing course to attack his neck with her eager lips as soon the words left her mouth. Spencer gasped instantly and she couldn’t help but smirk against his pale flesh, increasing the pressure in which she was assaulting his neck.

Through the groans that spilled past his lips, she was able to make out his pathetic attempt at words, not slowing down her lips at all. “J-just make sure not to leave any m-marks. We’ll g-get in trouble at w-work.” Of course Spencer would be the only person on the planet to remember their office guidelines while getting his neck sucked like a vampire.

“No marks...that’ll be difficult. I want everyone to know just how thoroughly I fucked you.”

Feeling extremely satisfied by his enthusiastic response to her vulgar words, she slowly lowered herself down his body, pausing with her mouth right above his groin. Somehow the poor kid already looked completely fucked out and she hadn’t even done anything yet. Hearing him wince as she gently grasped and started stroking his cock, she knew this was gonna be fun.

Staring directly into her eyes, he watched the string of spit leave her mouth and drip directly onto his dick, eyes bulging at her bold actions, still in shock that any of this was actually happening.

Entranced by the way his chest expanded rapidly as he watched her curiously, she leaned forward and licked the tip, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him. “I’m gonna suck your cock...but only because I want to see if you can not be a spaz about getting head from me.” Her words made Spencer whimper and she smirked as she took him fully into her mouth, soaking in his pretty noises.

Y/n had only been going for a minute or two when she heard his groans get louder and felt him twitch in her mouth. Pulling off of him with a pop, she hummed at the sight of the completely wrecked boy in front of her, panting and shaking adorably. It wasn’t long before the perfect idea infiltrated her head, her body thrumming with anticipation and excitement.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me. I think you deserve a reward.”, she smirked, reciting the words that they had heard verbatim. Seemingly catching on to what she was pushing for, he responded accordingly.

“Please Y/n. I’ll do anything.”

She quirked her eyebrow in his direction questioningly, slowly grinding her dripping core against his achingly hard cock. “Anything, baby boy?”

Snapping his heated stare directly to her eyes, he cracked a beautiful smile. “Anything.”

She couldn’t control the grin that overtook her lips as she lowered herself down onto his erection, writhing in pleasure at the feel of him inside of her and the sound of his wanton moans. “Good boy.”

Wanting to give Spencer time to fully adjust and control himself, she started her movements out slow, lifting herself up until only his tip remained inside before dropping down completely into his lap repeatedly. He was a moaning mess on the sheets below her, sweat coating his body along with goosebumps covering every visible expanse of his skin as he panted like a dog. He was so fucking pretty like this.

Deciding enough was enough, she picked up the pace considerably, bouncing like a mad woman on his dick, while her sharp nails scratched down his creamy, pale chest in front of her, leaving angry, red streaks in their wake. Spencer had devolved into a blubbering mess underneath her and that lit her soul on fire.

“You like that don’t you, you little slut? Like your cock deep inside of me? Huh?”

Y/n was pretty sure that he was short circuiting below her, his brain cutting off all control over his body as he spasmed uncontrollably and moaned for the entire fucking building to hear. Good, she thought. Let them hear how whipped he was for her. Even though it had only been a few minutes since she increased her speed, she could feel his cock starting to twitch violently inside of her and she knew he was close, really close.

“Is the little slut gonna come for me already?” All he could do was whimper in response, having to nod his head emphatically due to his loss of speech.

“Beg for it then. Fucking beg for me to let you come!” She was on fucking cloud nine right now, floating through the motions, as his whimpers increased in volume and speed. Mustering up all the strength he could, he spit out as many audible words as possible.

“Please! Please, please, please let me come! I need it! Please!” He was crying now, tears rapidly pouring from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks out of sheer desperation and need to release the tension built up within his body.

She was in awe of him. As she watched the tears pour down his face, she couldn’t help but whimper too. Desperately needing to finish, herself, she brought one hand down to make circles around her clit, while the other she brought up to wrap gently around his flushed throat, leaning over to whisper in his ear like she had earlier that night.

“Come for me, baby.”

She once again pulled back to witness his reactions to her hushed words, the outcome only more amazing than before. She watched as his eyes rolled back as far they could possibly go into his head as his mouth dropped open in pure ecstasy, high-pitched whines escaping his lips, his release shooting up into her like it had always belonged there. Maybe it had.

Watching him come undone below her, combined with her hand speedily rubbing circles on her clit, she was catapulted into the most amazing climax of her entire life, her body buzzing with excitement as she tightened around him and collapsed on his chest, weak as could be after that activity.

The pair laid silently, apart from the heaving breaths whirring through the room, still in shock over what had just transpired minutes before. Slowly shifting her eyes to the shivering boy below her, she saw he was caught in a trance, his eyes dazed, a soft grin on his lips.

Breaking him from his stupor, she gently cupped his cheek with one hand as the other drew lazy circles on his blotchy chest. Rubbing the skin on his face lightly, she leaned forward and kissed his nose, making him scrunch it up and giggle as a result. “Such a sweet boy for me. Such a sweet, sweet boy.” Her words made him melt inside and words tumbled out of his own mouth before he could even think about stopping them.

“Вы красивы внутри и снаружи.”

She looked up at him in shock, before breaking out in giggles. “Did you just serenade me in Russian? How romantic.”, she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

He couldn’t seem to control his giggles either, a fact that warmed her heart. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

Smiling up at the adorable boy she just had to ask. “What does it mean?”

Y/n watched as his signature blush quickly coated his features once again as he looked down at her with a shy smile. “You are beautiful, inside and out.”

With the warmest grin she could muster, she leaned up and kissed his jaw once more before snuggling up against the young doctor who had melted her heart.

Tag List: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @victomizedbyreginageorge @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @gretaamyk @httpnxtt @rachelxwayne @goldnratio @cheyxminds @kricketc29 @cupcake525 @pinkdiamond1016 @slutforthegubes @shadyladyperfection @emilysallysmith @babblingbrookex @legendaryanimeaestheticclou @sunstspidey @ashwarren32 @pixels-impulse @eviewildflower @spencerreider @awkwardsadaa @dirty-pan-goblin @spencerspecifics

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #spencer #spencer reid #dr reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg fic #spencer x reader #cm fic #spencer reid smut #cm fluff #cm smut #spencer reid fluff #smut #fluff #many thoughts head full #oneshot

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magnoliabloomfield · 4 years ago

Text

Gally Imagine 7

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six

The days had been getting hotter and I wasn’t fairing too well. One day I stood up from weeding the carrot patch and my vision went white, then I woke up in the infirmary. I had a cool, damp cloth on my forehead and along the insides of my arms to help with the heat.

Behind the fussing pair of med-jacks, Clint and Jeff, I saw Gally in the background looking worried. I was transferred from the track-ho team to the med-jack team to keep me in the shade and off my feet, so it was from the surprisingly gossipy pair I worked with that I found out what had happened.

Apparently before I’d even hit the ground, Gally had taken off at a run for me, that’s why he was the one to carry me to the infirmary than either Newt or Zart. That had set my stupid little heart all a-flutter.

That fluttering got quite frustrated after a while however. I think Clint and Jeff were on some pretty strict instructions to basically baby the hell out of me and keep me from actually doing much of anything. I was stuck inside for days learning my new job, memorizing where everything was in case of an emergency and what to do for the most common injuries and hearing about the strangest ones they’d had before too. But all that meant I wasn’t out there where I could see Gally.

Newt had come by once to see how I was doing, but since I’d be relegated to the med-jacks I hadn’t seen Gally except for at meals. He seemed really dejected lately, even downright moody at times and I wondered what was going on, of course worrying that it was my fault somehow. I got my answer the day he almost died.

Well, that’s a bit dramatic, but honestly when I heard how close it could have been it really scared me.

I had made myself comfy on one of the cots and was reading the notes Clint and Jeff had made on treatments and signs of infection and what not because I was honestly bored out of my mind, but still wanted to be good at my new assignment. That’s when Gally came in.

“Gally!” I jumped up, forgetting all about playing anything cool and letting him see just how happy I was to see him. But then I saw why he was there. “Gally!” I yelled in a completely different tone as I saw the bloody tear in his shirt. “Oh my God! Come here, sit down,” I took his wrist and led him to one of the cots. “What happened?” I asked him as I zipped around collecting the things I needed to help him.

He gave a heavy sigh. “The Greenie was goofing off and the axe head went flying off the handle.”

He saw me bolt straight up, dropping some items from my over flowing hands, and added “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad.” he assured me. “I got really lucky.”

“Oh my God,” I repeated as I regathered my things, feeling shaky at the thought that Gally could have been seriously injured if it had hit him in the head or something, the very thought making my chest feel tight.

When I finally had everything piled in my arms and turned to take it over to him he was slipping his shirt off. He grabbed the back of his collar with his good arm and just yanked it off. My brain was overloaded. I was still upset about the accident that could have hurt Gally badly, worried about the injury he did get, I was now confronted with him shirtless and also miffed at him for just stripping in front of me like it was no big deal.

“Wow, ok,” I said as I came over and set everything down.

“What? It had to come off anyway,” he raised a brow at me while shrugging with his good shoulder.

“I can’t bend over, but I’m glad you feel safe enough to just strip in front of me. Honestly though, you should really change how you do things, you never know how the girl will react,” I teased him.

He didn’t give me much of a reaction but I chocked it up to him being hurt and went about things. I soaked a cloth with watered down peroxide to clean up the blood and get a better look at the injury. I tried to be extra gentle, if I was honest it was the most careful I’d been with anyone. Gally kept his head down avoiding my gaze. After it was cleaned up I gently checked to see how deep the gash was that went from shoulder to chest at a diagonal.

“Are you ok?” I asked him, noting how he was giving off some major depressed vibes.

“Really?” He glanced at me and I saw his rose colored cheeks before he turned away again. “I’m in the infirmary with a big cut.”

I rolled my eyes. “I mean aside from the physical injury, are YOU ok?”

There was a pause as I got the iodine and dabbed it gently on the cut.

“Yeah,” he finally answered, quieter and not as sure as he usually sounded.

I prepared two special bandaids, securing them on opposite sides of the cut before using them to pull the skin closer together. It was second best to stitches and he really didn’t need stitches, thank god, I could not bring myself to sew up his soft, freckled skin. I was so focused on doing a good job, making sure it would hold up well enough to heal nicely and not get infected, I was startled when he spoke up.

“So, you don’t like being called Princess?” he asked, still not looking at me.

“What?” I blurted in confusion. “The heck makes you think that?”

“I heard you were trying to stop boys from calling you that,” he replied, bowing his head even further. I felt like I’d just kicked a puppy.

“Oh, that- yeah-well,” I stumbled on my words before deciding to just come clean. “I just like it when you call me that, it doesn’t sound the same coming from the others.”

I felt like I’d just given so much away with that but he didn’t even acknowledge me. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to cheer him up and get the old Gally to come back. It was easier to talk when I was busy with my hands and didn’t have to try and hold eye contact or anything, so I kept going even after that as I secured the last few bandages.

“I wish it was under better circumstances, but I’m glad I got to see you. I’ve been cooped up in here so long, I was starting to miss you,” I dared to say just to see how it would go over, I needed some kind of reaction.

“You shouldn’t say those kinds of things to the boys,” He stiffened up but still didn’t look at me.

“I’m not saying it to the boys,” I stated clearly and waited for him to look at me before I went on. “I’m saying it to you.”

His face seemed to crumple and he shook his head. “Don’t do that. Not to me,” he said as if he were disgusted, but I could tell there was an underlying pain there. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I-I’m not teasing, Gally,” I was taken aback. “I mean it sincerely, I wasn’t trying to tease you.”

He still shook his head. “I know what you’re saying about me, what you think about me-”

“Whoah, wait a second,” I interrupted, feeling upset now, not exactly at Gally but at whatever or whoever was causing some kind of misunderstanding between us. “What exactly am I supposed to be saying and thinking, and who the heck is telling it to you, and why the heck are you believing them? I think the only one who can speak for me is me.”

Gally seemed ashamed now, his ears red. The way he fiddled with his shirt in his hands and hunched over not looking up at me finally made me realize he was feeling insecure.

“Why would you miss me out of everyone?” He made it sound like a rhetorical question meant to put himself down.

I knelt in front of him. “Because you’re my friend. Because I like spending time with you the most. Because you’re funny. Because it feels like I know what you’re thinking just from the look you give me and no one else around here gets me like that. I like you, Gally. And you should take my word for it and stop listening to anyone who tells you otherwise.”

He still didn’t look at me. I saw his jaw clench though. I sighed and got back to putting his bandages on. “How’s that feel?” I asked as I gently ran my fingers over either side to make sure the bandaids had adhered properly.

I felt him take in a shuddery breath. “It’s fine.”

He went to put his shirt back on but I gently stayed his hand. “Leave that with me, I’ll have it cleaned up and mended for you by tomorrow when you come back to have your bandages changed.” I knew he valued useful acts of service the way I valued spending time with him.

He looked from my hand to my face and then gave a little nod, handing it over to me. He stood up and I tried not to stare at his very nice builder’s physique.

“I’m sorry you got hurt, but I’m really glad nothing worse happened to you, that you weren’t hurt more,” I said to him, trying to sound more serious and sincere, less cheery uppy than before.

He took a good look at me for the first time. “Me too.”

We both knew we were talking about more than just a cut.

Part eight

@poulterholland @anniemylennox @generallampdreamweasel

#will poulter #Will Poulter protection squad #Gally #tmr #the maze runner #maze runner #tmr Gally imagine #tmr gally #gally imagine

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starryseung · 4 years ago

Text

han jisung + smut

☾

request; can i request jisung roommate au which they are both rival word count; 2.7k words warnings; enemies to lovers!au, roommates!au, orgasm denial, semi-public sex

Black Shirt

You drag your heavy suitcase throughout the corridors of your campus, a white sheet of paper with black scribbles made by your friend to guide you through the hostel dangling carelessly between your fingers. She had already found her room, which she shared with a guy; something absurd for your conservative mind.

No doubt, you had guy friends, but you never even thought of sharing a room with the opposite sex, let alone actually doing it. Your new hostel had such a policy though, and they justified it by saying that it would ‘help them come out of their bubble’ and all that. You were anticipated to meet your new roommate, hoping you would click with him soon.

—

Yeah no, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Especially when your roommate was going to be Han Jisung; your rival since 8th grade. You didn’t just dislike him, no. You two loathed each other. All the synonyms of hatred combined still wouldn’t be near half of how much you despised him. And unluckily, he ended up being your roommate for the next two years.

There was no turning point in your lives where you just started hating each other. You two were overachievers. Anything one would do, the other did better. Not only did it lead to the growing feeling of distaste in you two, but it also did something good. Put you two into amazing universities in the country.

But the fact that you two ended up in the same room as well, your friends kinda knew what they were going to be facing soon.

The second you enter your room, the only thing leaves your mouth is, “What the fuck?!”

Jisung looks at you, snarling and clicking his tongue as he sees you at the doorstep with your red suitcase in hand. You knew where this was leading to, but you liked watching his face turn red in anger. You liked watching his face in general, though.

“You! You followed me here too!” he cried, pointing a finger at you as he stood up, slow steps walking towards you.

“Um, no? This shitty piece of paper brought me here? Also, why the hell would I ever follow a dickhead like you!”

“You know what? Just—”

“Hey there! What’s with all the yelling?” another voice calls from the kitchen. A taller male with blond curly hair walks up to you two, eyebrows quirked up in amusement. He eyes the two of you as he picks up his bowl of cereal, walking round the island top and leaning against it as he digs in his breakfast.

Jisung groans and storms to his room, leaving you and Chan alone.

“I’m sorry, he gets his period once in a while. Do you guys know each other..?” he laughs, swirling his spoon in the white bowl.

“Yeah, we went to the same school for a couple years and stuff—”

“Oh so you’re friends! Tha—”

“No. I hate him. He hates me. He sucks and we’ll hate each other until he dies.” you cut him off, dragging your stuff inside the living room. You hear a ‘You suck more!’ from Jisung’s room, and Chan chuckles. He helps you with your stuff and shows you your room, instructing you about the small details of the place.

—

It was time for dinner, and you heard your stomach growl. With a little help from Chan, you were able to almost set up your room by the end of the day, and now you were starving. The delicious aroma of flavor rolls by your nostrils, and you take in a long breath. You place the pile of books neatly where you wanted them, and trudged towards the kitchen, where something was cooked.

You saw Chan and another girl, mindlessly humming and wiggling their hips to some song playing softly, their backs facing you as they cooked pasta. You quietly walk forward, but somehow the girl hears your footsteps and turns around to acknowledge you.

“Hey! You must be Chan’s new roommate! Come, have a seat, dinner’s almost ready!” she squeaks happily, smiling as she returns back to cooking, the loving grin not leaving her lips.

You set up the table and sit down as the girl served the delicious food onto your plate. Chan sits next to you, and the girl sits closer to him.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself,” she giggles as you’re about to start eating.

“I’m—”

“Saerom! Hello~” Jisung exclaims as he trudges out of his room, making his way to the table. He glances at you and pokes his tongue out, but before you can retract, the girl, or Saerom, starts.

“So, I’m Saerom, and I’m Chan’s girlfriend! He told me about you earlier, I hope we can be good friends!” she speaks as you all start eating. You didn’t have heart eyes for Chan, but you didn’t expect him to have a girlfriend. But then on the other hand, he did have the looks and brains to have ten.

“Sure! The food’s great by the way,” you speak mouthful, devouring the best dinner you’ve had in weeks.

You and Jisung act like you don’t know each other, and you keep talking to Saerom and Chan about regular school stuff. You felt Jisung shaking his legs under the table, restraining everything in you to not yell at him to stop. Then again, he might as well be doing it to piss you off.

His leg hits yours— and to be very honest, your whole body was sore from all the work you had done today, and you were exhausted. Jisung’s kick pisses you off even more and you kick him back, trying to be as subtle as possible.

“Yah! Why’d you kick me!” he asks, eyebrows raised and fork shifting in his hands as if one wrong move and he would stab you.

“Excu— Me? Your dumbass purposely kicked me when I was clearly minding my own damn business,” you counter, pissed off at his audacity.

“I didn’t hit you, I hit the table leg!” he defends, and you scoff, amused if he was being serious or shocked if he was comparing your leg to the table’s.

“Hey hey, now, let’s have a nice dinner, yeah?” Chan muses, grinning as he sees the two of you fighting like preschoolers. You finish off your food, occasionally glaring at Jisung who does the same, and wash off your dishes.

“Thank you so much for today! The food really was delicious,” You compliment, and Saerom and Chan call out a ‘good night’ and ‘thank you!’ as you walk off to your room.

—

“Yes! Fuck yes!”

You couldn’t hold in your excitement as you jumped up and down on your bed, hands holding the paper Chan had given you. After weeks and weeks of assessments and projects, you were finally shortlisted into the University’s International Representatives team. It was a huge honor for you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling all these emotions.

Chan has to hold you by your arms and pull you down when he starts hearing the weak bed squeak under you, afraid that the furniture might break under your actions.

“I’m so happy! Oh my God this has to be the best day of my life.”

“That’s great! Now y/n please go to bed it’s pretty late and you have the interview tomorrow,” Chan sighs, looking up at the clock.

He wishes you night before signing off for the day, heading to his room retiring for the night.

—

You admire yourself, twirling around in the red pencil skirt and black dress shirt you’d worn for today’s interview. You were totally going to ace this, and nothing could stop you. You hop on into Saerom’s car as she told you she could drop you off for your big day.

You walk inside the dimly lit restaurant, a fresh smell flowing through your lungs. You feel confidence rush through you once again and you smile, walking into the hall. The receptionist asks you if you needed a reservation or if you were here on invitation.

“Yeah actually, I’m here on invitation. I’m here for the interview for the University of Seoul.” you reply, tapping your heels on the marble tiles. She kindly directs you to a table not far away, and you thank her before walking towards them.

There was a female teacher you recognized from your lectures, and the other was a random man you’d never seen before. You smile and greet them, sitting in front of them.

“Good evening, y/n! How is your day going,” your teacher smiles, shuffling through some papers. You talk about some basic daily events, possibly to get you to be comfortable with them.

“So we’re waiting for another student, so when he arrives, we’ll— here he is! Welcome,”

You turn to look at who the student was and your jaw almost drops down. It was, of course, Han Jisung. Of course, he was here too, ready to ruin this for you as well. He looks at you with a blank stare, eyes immediately dropping down to your exposed thighs. You turn back around, mentally crying at what you thought was going to happen.

“Great! So we’ll start off with the interview now. We’ve seen your reports, and we’d like to hear from you, how would you tackle situations based on international conflicts...”

—

So far you've done pretty well. You couldn’t deny, Jisung was a good speaker as well; he almost impressed you with his answers. You noticed how his eyes close up to crescents when he would smile widely, the small grin everlasting on his face. His honey skin basked under the glow of the yellow lights paired up with the soft sunset glow from outside the restaurant.

His hand rests on your right thigh and you snap out of your daze, shifting your eyes back to the teachers assessing you. All your attention which was on them snaps when you feel the hand on your thigh rise higher and higher. You feel goosebumps rise on your skin where his fingers touched.

At this point, the two older professors at the other end of the table are busy discussing something among themselves, and you can’t really excuse yourself from this mishap. Jisung’s fingers rise higher and higher, and he briefly looks at you and you slowly nod, approving his actions. He gladly moves ahead, smirking as his fingers are dangerously close to where you wanted him the most.

He feels the lacey material of your panties on his fingers and decides to tease you, running his fingers up and down the damp fabric that stuck to your folds uncomfortably. You slowly grip his wrists, signalling him to work his way quickly without the teasing.

He smirks at your eagerness, pushing your panties aside and prodding his fingers at your hole, using your slick to coat his fingers. You sigh softly, clenching your fists under the table. He pushes his index finger inside, slowly thrusting in and out of your hole. You bite your lip to hold back any sounds as his finger curls inside you. He maintains his steady pace pumping his fingers, his ring touching your walls every now and then making your toes curl.

He adds in two more fingers at once and you almost yelp, stomach churning in pleasure. Your walls clench around his fingers and he continues his sinful actions underneath the table. He places his thumb over your clit, pressing down on the nub. You feel your high approaching, legs bouncing up and down as his fingers keep thrusting your leaking hole. You’re about to let go the knot, when—

“Thank you for spending your time with us, students. We’ll talk about this in the next few days. I’ll keep contact…” and the rest of the words spoken by your professor are a haze as frustration of your lost orgasm takes over. You force a smile, bowing and thanking the older for their time. Fixing your skirt, you and Jisung walk out of the restaurant. You rush ahead of him, and he follows close by. He opens the door of a cab, motioning you to sit inside before himself plopping in, directing the driver to take you to the dorms.

The ride back is extremely quiet, and all you think of is having sex with Jisung.

—

Luckily, Chan and Saerom were out for a study date, so you had the whole room to yourselves. Just as the door clicks open, Jisung pushes you inside along with him, locking it shut before pressing you up against the door.

“Fuck y/n, you look so hot in that dress,” he moans, grinding his hips onto yours. You turn your head back, moaning at the feeling of his lips latching onto your neck, his clothed member grinding against your wet heat.

“Plea— Please Jisung, just fuck me already,”

He unbuttons your dress shirt, tossing it onto the floor before pushing his lips against yours. You moan at the plush feeling of his lips on yours, teeth biting your bottom lip. He licks your lip and pulls away, breathing heavily. There’s a tug on your wrists, followed by Jisung pulling you to your room.

You quickly skim out of your pencil skirt, watching Jisung as he unbuttons his shirt. He walks towards you and you lie down on your bed as he crawls up to you. He leans down to kiss your shoulders and you feel his hard-on on your thigh. You arch your back as he goes lower and lower on your body, kissing and nipping at your skin.

He knows Chan won’t be out for long, and so doesn’t waste too much time foreplay-ing. He pulls down your panties, harshly rubbing his fingers on your cunt. You yelp as his nimble fingers spread open your folds. All you hear in the room is his breathing and your soft noises, paired with the soft wet noises his fingers make in your cunt.

He prods his fingers at your hole, circling at your folds. You whine at his tease, bucking your hips in his grasp. He chuckles breathily before pushing two fingers in at once, curling them upwards to hit the spots that had you moaning in no time. Innumerable curses and groans leave your lips as Jisung pumps his fingers in and out of you just like he had done in the restaurant.

His silver ring touches your walls and you shiver, your action not going unnoticed. He draws his fingers from your convulsing hole, bringing down the cold ring on your clit and pressing it gently. You whine at the sweet pleasure coursing through your veins due to the stimulation, your vision turning blurry from the tears in your eyes.

He licks his lips before removing his dick out of his boxers, pumping it a few times and rolling on a condom before pushing it into you. You grip the sheets tightly as he enters inside slowly, filling your walls deliciously. He wasn’t too big, but was of perfect girth and size to satisfy you.

He is balls deep in you, and he feels his head spin as your walls squeeze around him. He places his hands on either side of your head, making eye contact with you and kissing your jaw.

You feel him slowly pulling out with a whine, before slamming in gratingly. You scream as he sets a quick pace, thrusting in and out of your tight hole. You clench around his length and you both moan at the tight feeling in your abdomen. Your head spins as you reach your high, Jisung’s pace slowing down as well. His thrusts reach deeper in you, finger drawing rough circles on your clit.

You release around him, your warm orgasm coating his dick. You both moan at the sensation, Jisung following soon after. He comes hard, filling up the plastic. He stays that way for a moment, plopping himself on you.

You hear the front door unlock, Chan’s voice booming through the halls.

“I’m home!”

Fuck. Your black shirt was still out on the floor.

—

a/n; i’m kinda pissed with how this turned out lmao jsdhjs ALSO my series is in progress! i’ll start publishing it when all my requests are done :)

taglist; @ffelixxie @cherryeol04 @stayletters @yooniversalstudios @bruh-changbin (message me if you want to be added!)

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goldeaglefire1 · 4 years ago

Text

so I have Ideas for Mr. Luxbulb and the hypothetical game he would’ve come from so here are my thoughts (read more because this is long)

- the game is called Luxbulb's Little Academy for Young and Bright Minds, taking place in the titular school (well, mostly titular; the school in-game is just referred to as the Little Academy for Young and Bright Minds and is not named after Luxbulb)

- the game opens with a cutscene that plays out like an advertisement for the school in question, highlighting it's academic strengths and showing off the staff, ending on Luxbulb proudly presenting the school building while the narrating voice finishes its sales pitch

- fade to black, and we segway to a first person POV cutscene of the player character walking into their first class and sitting down at their desk, whereupon they and the rest of the class are shortly greeted by Mr. Luxbulb in all his lightbulb glory

- he gives off a quick little first day speech, showing off his personality in the process - chipper, very enthusiastic about teaching, bit eccentric; also he has a slight British accent to top it off - and giving a quick overview of the school to the class (and also the player)

- he then hands out these odd little watch thingies that he instructs the class to put on, which they do. he then explains that these watches are "Thought Watches," smartwatches capable of tracking your brain activity "so you can tell how much you're learning in real time!" He also explains that they're how they're going to be doing classwork

- basically the thought watch is the UI. among other things, it gives a map of the school and prompts the player to do certain things so they’re not lost

- you then play a short, easy minigame regarding the subject Mr. Luxbulb teaches (stuck between Math or English, either works), and afterwards he congratulates you on a job well done, saying that you deserve a gold star for your excellent work...in fact, you might just be one of his best students, with a bit of help

- he tells you to meet him after school (he would say “after class,” but he says that he doesn’t want to take away from your first day experience by making you miss a few minutes of your second class), then cheerfully waves goodbye as you walk out

- there’s another cutscene afterwards, showing a still image of the player character bored at their desk while a bit of text below explains that the rest of the school day went by in a blur, due to the classes either being boring or - for whatever reason - the teachers being conspicuously missing

- you then segway into a first person free roam section, taking place after school, whereupon you are prompted to go to Mr. Luxbulb’s room to talk with him, with the room being helpfully highlighted on the map

- there’s a slight issue, however...when you get there, the front door is locked, and no number of knocks or repeated tries gets it open

- you are then prompted to try and find another way in, and the player is left to do so

- soon enough, the player can discover the teacher’s lounge, which seems to lead directly into Mr. Luxbulb’s room. If you test the doorknob, it’s unlocked

- and thus, you found your way in. although the player character is clearly hesitant to go into the teacher’s lounge when you press the key to open the door, they press on for the best teacher they met that day and open it anyway

- whereupon they are greeted by a horrible sight

- the room is inexplicably much larger on the inside than it should be, and is completely dark save for one thing - a giant brain. it sits in the center of the room, pulsating like a beating heart, glowing an ominous purple that highlights the various wires hooked up to it like some sort of sick science project

- and right next to it, with an entire arm plunged right into the damn thing, is Mr. Luxbulb, completely unperturbed that he’s sticking his arm inside a giant organ, and in fact even seeming to enjoy it a little

- he suddenly turns his head to the player, his grin never fading, and with a tone that suddenly seems a lot more menacing than it was before, he simply says “You weren’t supposed to see that”

- you are then given the prompt to run

- welcome to the actual meat of the game - a first person free roam where you go through the dark, empty school, trying to evade Luxbulb and finding some sort of exit

- well, I say “finding some sort of exit,” but really you just have to survive long enough for Luxbulb to get a call and then somehow unlock the doors to let you out, apparently prioritizing the call over you

- the rest of the game then plays out similarly to the first day, but with a few twists - you get one additional class each day after the first, capping at six classes total, with each having their own minigame “classwork” to complete that you do sequentially. in between each class you’ll have a free roam section where you have a limited time to sneak around and try to find some clues as to what the hell is actually going on, and then after all the classes are done, you’ll be shown trying to walk out with the other kids, only for the doors to shut and lock behind them, with a sudden taunt from Mr. Luxbulb indicating that you’ve entered another survival section, this time with additional threats from the teachers of your other classes

- also going to go into how Mr. Luxbulb would work here. Basically he’d be stalking the building in search of the player, with the light from his lightbulb essentially acting as his field of vision (yes, including behind him; he’s weird like that), and if you get caught in that field...game over. So, avoid the light - easy enough, right? Well, another thing is that Luxbulb will sometimes turn off the lightbulb in his head with seemingly no prompting. This essentially renders him blind, meaning that the player can potentially sneak somewhere without him noticing, but they need to be quiet if they want to do so, because Luxbulb turning off his lightbulb is actually a trap to get the player to lower their guard - he may not be able to see, but he can hear just fine. So if you’re too loud, he’ll turn on his light, and then boom. Pretty simple threat to deal with, but very persistent

- also also, here’s a teacher I came up with:

- I call him Mr. Gigabyte

- he’s in charge of the computer lab, and his minigame is a simple typing minigame

- in the survival section, he uses those wires hooking him to the ceiling to stick to it and stay out of sight, essentially leaving the player with only auditory cues to figure out if he’s nearby or not. he may be slower than Luxbulb, but his stealth makes him tricky to get around

#mr luxbulb #game idea #long post #my art

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Hug Tutorials

summary: Constantine is stuck baby sitting. Not exactly his area of expertise. So how is he supposed handle a feral 8 year old? Help comes from an unexpected source.

A/n: I am pretty new to the Hellblazer fandom so forgive the characterization. I own nothing except Ruta (in all his bratty glory) and the plot. Maya belongs to the wonderful @birdy-bat-writes who is a wonderful human being. This thing is kind of part of a crack au me and Riya have been brain storming. I will probably edit or rewrite this later. Yes, I need a better title.

warnings: awkward hugs, implied child neglect, and a lot of swearing

word count: 1,709 (This is actually really short.)

Ruta knows it hadn't started out like this.

He remembers when his mother used to try and help him read. She tried her best but the shapes on the page just made no sense to him. Not the way it did for Raffie or Mimi.

He tries memorizing the words she said to him and parroting them back to her. It works! For awhile...

He also remembers the walks to the park and how they'd listen to him about transparent people.

They probably think he's too young to notice the change.

His mom's slowly cut back on their nightly reading sessions opting for game night with his siblings. They were playing monopoly and that required a little too much reading for him to play.

They haven't read together in months. Maybe he's the only one keeping track.

He still tells them about the transparent people and now he tells them about the shadowy people but now they simply nod out of time with what he says. They used to be better at pretending and nodding in time with what he said.

His dad got mad at him once when he started crying about the shadow people when they were at the market. He shook him, just a little, just enough to make him feel woozy, looking red with embarrassment. Ruta felt bad about it. He felt really horrible about embarrassing his dad that he decided never to mention them again even when they got too close.

The good news is he now had Count Von Bon Bon who listened and read aloud to him. He wasn't allowed inside the house because he was such a big bird but when they went outside he kept the shadow things away.

He doesn’t need anyone else. He’ll be ok.

-------------

If you asked John Constantine how on Earth he found himself in the mess, he'd likely give you a dumbfounded look, shrug, and mumble something about being too sober.

But in all honesty, how does one find themselves watching their 8-year-old charge about to throw hands with not one but two Green Lanterns who should know better?

Ruta stood , small and imperious, with his little arm crossed and his head thrown back after a great laugh. "I'd like to see ya do it, dumb carrot headed shit!"

Guy, looking as red as, well, Sinestro, looks like he's about to deck the kid. "Oh, I'm gonna,"

John with all the good sense he's got fumbles over to the tiny terror. "Sorry 'bout that lil' Ruta 'ere's just a bit nippy from 'avin' to wake up early. Yanno 'ow kids are,” He grabs the kid by his sweater who makes a little squawking noise not too different from his devastatingly posh familiar who would have been really helpful right now. The kid wriggles a little, trying to claw John's hand away from the sweater. He pauses and John thinks that maybe, just maybe, the kid had gotten some sense knocked into him.

Unfortunately for him, John Constantine is one unlucky bastard.

With the smarmiest grin plastered on his little face, Ruta slips out of the, admittedly, ill-fitting sweater. The kid basically sprinted back toward the lanterns who, by the way, still looked pissed as all hell.

"Oh for the love of-" John is honestly going to pop a blood vessel. He grabs the kid's arm since the kid despite his speed hadn't made it far.

Ruta did not have the expected reaction. He froze. Breath seizing. Body going rigid. John thought about letting go but thought better of it.

"Ruta-"

Ruta begins to thrash violently and make petulant noises. John rolls eyes even as the kid snarls a few colorful words. "Yer gonna hafta do bettern’ that lad if-"

CHOMP

"Sonuva! Zee, a little help would be appreciated, love,"

"Sorry John, I’ve got no clue about how Maya usually gets him to settle down,"

Well, that helped.

Justice League members gather in bewilderment as they watch Constantine let out a string of curses as he tries to pry Ruta off his arm. The kid's teeth were actually digging into his flesh. John is pretty sure he would rather be fighting off all the demon's he's encountered over the years than be here, right now, getting his flesh torn.

Bats and Supes enter the room. Now, John normally didn't give a rat's ass what those two thought but there was a special kind of embarrassment that comes with a tantruming child. He now had a little more sympathy for people with kids in grocery stores.

The next few seconds are hard to process.

Bats discussing something about Earth's defenses with Supes wordlessly walks over to John, pats Ruta on the head, the kid- miraculously- relinquishes his death grip on John's arm, and in a disturbingly fluid motion Bats scoops him up into his arms, settles Ruta on to his hip, walks back to his conversation as if nothing happened.

The kid makes a brief distressed noise and a weak attempt at fighting before huffing and wrapping his wreathy little arms around Bats’ neck as Bats rubs circles on his back.

God, the kid looked so small all of a sudden. Had Ruta been that tiny this whole time?

He looked a little relieved aside from his face which was red and screwed up like all his effort was being devoted to trying not to cry. His breath is still uneven but it was settling down. He’s limp against Bats. For once, he looked like he wasn't about to turn tail and run or to tell someon to fuck off or bite someone's face off.

Fuck, when was the last time the kid looked so relaxed?

The newer league members watch with a mix of awe and confusion while the older ones shake their head and murmur something about not seeing that in a while.

It takes a few minutes, the entire conversation actually, for Batman to realize that all his kids are too big for him to comfortably carry like this even with his size. He panics thinking he accidentally kidnapped a young child. It takes him a moment longer to realize who it is.

"How the fuck did you manage that?" John finally stiffles out, awe clear in his voice.

Batman glares at John for cursing in front of the kid.

"Wot? He’s said worse,"

"That’s cus you’re a fucking cunt," Ruta mumbles his cheek still smooshed into Bats' shoulder. Bats looks as stone faced as ever but from the frown tugging at his lips he seemed mortified but he made a grunt that sounded more nostalgic than reprimanding. Batman adjusts his hold on the kid looking like he was honestly debating on whether to keep carrying the kid around and keep working or give him back to the clearly inexperienced Constantine. He decides it was probably best to give him back to Constantine but a part of him just really wanted to keep holding the little one trembling in his arms. When was the last time he held someone this small. It kind of reminded him of when Jason was small right down to the fowl mouth.

Ruta clearly also doesn't want to let go. Bats is sturdy and surprisingly warm. He looked like he would cry if he let go. The kid’s knuckles were white from gripping Bats’ cowl for Christ’s sake. Sadly, Igris, his annoyingly posh familiar, shows up from who the fuck knows where.

"Little prince, this is no way to behave," He admonishes in an eerie vernacular that was only barely understandable due to exposure. Ruta's face grows hot from embarrassment and with a nod he extricates himself from the caped crusader's arms.

The kid definitely looks like he's about to cry but he mutters a glum ‘Yes, Count Von Bon Bon’.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" John asked. God, he needed a smoke.

"I've been watching over Maya as the little prince had asked," John gives him a questioning look. "I got bored" The bird adds, shrugging in an oddly human manner.

Ruta extricates himself looking sheepish but mostly tired. Kid has probably been stressed and on adrenaline for a while. The sudden feeling of safety just made him crash.

John hesitantly wraps his arms around the kid. The kid freezes but hugs back hesitantly. John tries to lift the kid but the kid stiffens. John honestly had no idea how to hold this kid. He maneuvered his hands clumsily around the kid. Ruta made no objections but he was clearly uncomfortable.

"No. You have to support both of his back and legs. Sometimes you have to lean back a bit to get them to so he leave into you- yeah just like that," Bats instructs, sounding oddly gentle. His usual gravel absent. It kind of scared John, to be honest, so he did his best to follow along.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

At some point, Maya shows up after her ‘date’ with Damian- not much of a date when there are a bunch of people watching you- and finds Bruce coaching John on how to hold a tired elementary schooler who was drooling on John's favorite beige coat. She tried her best to stifle a laugh. Thankfully, she didn't have to try too hard.

"EXCUSE ME????? B, since when were you a child whisperer?" Dick exclaims as dramatically as humanly possible. Damian and Tim radiated second hand embarrassment while Jason just plays it like he doesn't know his older brother. Maya guessed that if Bruce wasn't used Dick he would be cringing too.

"Nightwing, I've had more than 5 children. I believe I know how to handle children,"

"Uhuh- sure, B. Whatever you say,"

Bruce makes a neutral grunting noise.

"Please tell me you're not adopting that one,"

"Of course no-"

"Yeah sure, B,"

"He's- He's Constantines,"

"Tt, father, you are a terrible influence,"

It is a spectacle to watch Bruce's kids team up on him.

Maya shakes her head and laughs before heading over to John.

“Well, bring me a biscuit and call me Christy Bats’ was right” He mutters rocking the feral child. Ruta’s little arms wrap around him a little tighter.

“‘Course he is, Christy. He’s Batman,” Maya drawls smiling innocently.

"Please never leave him with me again,"

"Dunno, Christy. Looks like you're doing fine,"

tag list:

@idkmanicantenglish (You said any DC content)

@birdy-bat-writes (You enabler)

#john constantine #dc fanfiction #DC comics #parenting #ocs #batman #batfam #good parenting #bad parenting #angst #my wriitng #robins #zantanna zatara

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stardusttrashed · 4 years ago

Text

Go With the Flow

Requested by @marli-senpai Thank you again for this request, it was hands down my favorite so far

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Aizawa volunteers to help you gain control over your water bending quirk

Pairing: Aizawa x fem!reader, Class 1-A x fem!reader (all platonic)

Your leg bounced rapidly as you impatiently watched the clock. Aiziwa’s lecture went in one in and out the other. Not that it was boring or anything, he was one of your favorite teachers in fact. The simple fact was that every second he spent talking to the class was a second longer away from your after school training.

You could barely get yourself to sleep a wink last night. Every minute of sleep felt like an hour too long for your excited mind. The sun couldn’t come up fast enough.

“Oi idiot, cut that out! You’re making it hard to focus,” Bakugo’s sharp tone sliced through your thoughts, stopping them in their tracks. You halted your movements like a deer in headlights, your mouth gaping as you tried to think of something witty.

You were quite literally saved by the bell as the school bells rang, signaling the end of the day. “Guess that solves your problem,” you smiled apologetically. You hurriedly stuffed your books into your bag, ignoring the annoyed click of his tongue. You waited until everyone had cleared the room before you finally stood from your seat.

There was finally nothing holding you back from beginning your first day of training! And yet you could barely pick up your feet to walk the few steps towards him. “What’re we working on today,” you asked with forced enthusiasm. You hoped Aizawa hadn’t noticed.

He nodded his head towards the door, quietly indicating for you to follow him. Aizawa walked at his own pace- fast enough to feel normal yet slow enough so you could stay a few paces behind. Yeah, he spent all night thinking of ways to help you train, but he still hadn’t the slightest clue of what to do. You had a strong quirk that you refused to use. Perhaps if he found a way to get you to build your trust in yourself…

“Aizawa sensei isn’t the training room back that way?” You glanced over your shoulder at the building that was slowly getting further and further away. Your mind was gradually slipping into panic mode. He did intend to help you, right? You didn’t think of yourself as a lost cause. Your steps faltered, what if he did. What if this was a ruse to get you out of UA?

“It is,” he answered curtly, derailing your chaotic train of thought. “But we’re going to work our way up to there.” He glanced behind him to catch you nod confusedly. He stopped once the two of you reached an open field. “Make me walk.”

You stared at Aizawa’s back in confusion at his blatant request. Your bag slid off your shoulder before plopping down on the ground by your feet.

“Well?” He continued to stare at the trees in front of him.

“But if you can’t see me then you can’t-.” You quickly shut your mouth, realizing this must be the first part of your training. He really did have faith in you. And it wasn’t like he was asking an impossible task. Well, maybe a little. You had never used your quirk on someone, only on your surroundings, but how hard could it be. “Right,” you said more to yourself than anything.

Though he couldn’t see your movements he could feel you focusing on the task. He knew your nerves would be getting to you, but he hoped by showing you he trusted you enough not to even worry about his quirk they could be settled.

You stared at him for what felt like ages. No matter what you tried you couldn’t push away the thoughts of what might go wrong. What if you moved him the wrong way and he couldn’t stop you? You balled up your fist in frustration, a small lump forming in your throat. You wanted to be the best, but you couldn’t even get yourself to do this task. How pathetic. “I- I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t.” Your shoulders dropped in defeat as you shut your eyes, desperately trying to will the overwhelming feeling to cry away.

Aizawa quickly turned around, your fragile voice immediately awakening a protective side of him. “Hey, don’t apologize… just do better,” he added the last bit to avoid sounding too mushy. He desperately racked his brain for ideas, your defeated form adding desperation to the matter. “Follow me.” He slowed his pace down this time, allowing you to walk beside him in silence. “I-,” he finally spoke up as the training grounds came into view. “You have a powerful quirk, but a quirk is only as powerful as you let it be. You won’t get the hang of it until you begin to trust yourself and learn your limits.” He chose to avoid explaining the reason he kept his back to you. “Meet me out here in five minutes,” Aizawa quickly added before walking off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You mulled over his words as you changed into your training uniform. Maybe he was right. How could you expect to be number one if you didn’t believe in yourself? You didn’t have to be cocky like Bakugo, but you had to start somewhere. The thought scared you if you were being honest. You knew your confidence was going to be harder to build than your skills with your quirk, but what other choice did you have. “I’ve got to trust myself,” you whispered with determination.

The door slammed awkwardly loud behind you as you stormed out of the locker room with newfound enthusiasm. It was a lot quieter than you were used to. Normally the room would be filled with Midoriya’s rambling or Bakugo’s sudden outbursts. But all that could be heard was the sound of your footsteps as you strolled over to where Aizawa stood.

“Stop right there,” he instructed you as he plucked a water balloon out of the bucket by his feet. Hopefully, this would work the way he thought it would otherwise he’d be back to the drawing board again. “I figured we use these until you become comfortable enough with your quirk to use on people.” He carefully tossed the water balloon in the air before catching it again. “For now, I want you to stand in that spot as I throw these your way. All you have to do is stop them before they hit you, got it?” You nodded timidly in response. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll ease up my tosses for now.”

His words from earlier passed through your mind once again. Trust. Your expression hardened with determination, “Let’s do it.”

His first toss was as though he were trying to toss to a baby. You doubted it’d even have enough impact to burst if you failed to stop it. No. You couldn’t think that way. The task was simple. And the worse that could happen would be the balloon pops. You were going to stop every balloon he threw your way.

You tried to recall some quirk advice Midoriya gave you earlier when you told him you’d be training with Aizawa. All you could remember was something about an egg and a microwave, but the correlation between the two was unclear.

Taking a deep breath to still yourself, you focused on the balloon. More specifically you focused on the water inside of it as you channeled your quirk. Mid-air the balloon burst, sending water sprinkling everywhere. You smiled sheepishly at Aizawa, who was clearly trying to hold back a smirk, “Technically it stopped.”

“Next time try without bursting it,” he chuckled lowly.

It took you three days of training by yourself in the mornings and again with Aizawa in the afternoons and two completely soaked outfits before you had figured out how much of your quirk you needed to simply stop the balloon at any time. Then he handed you books on human anatomy and biology to, and you quote, “know the basics of all your enemies.” Sure it was a lot to wrap your brain around considering you still had all of your other homework to do, but the more you learned the more you could feel a shift in your mind. Where it was shifting to you weren’t quite sure, but you could feel it was in a good direction. Before you knew it you were spending your afternoons integrating your fighting style into your water balloon dodging training- which you were thankfully able to move from your spot in now.

Sure, there were days when you’d walk back to your dorm soaked in a mixture of sweat and water from exploding water balloons. There were even days when you felt yourself slip back into your insecure and worrisome ways. But every time you managed to send a water balloon back to Aizawa using nothing but your quirk you could feel a surge of empowerment. It was only a week and a half that had gone by before he started throwing more challenges your way like having you do it blindfolded. Or inviting someone else to come so they both could throw water balloons at you.

Soon enough you found yourself laughing more than you found yourself indulging in your worries and fears. It was like being gifted freedom after years of denial. Everyday tasks involving water became simple exercises for your abilities. You had even messed with Aizawa a handful of times, altering his movements a barely noticeable amount, though he would always send you his death glare. He couldn’t ever really bring himself to be upset at you though. You were thriving. Your newfound confidence in your quirk overflowed into your everyday confidence. It filled him with a sense of pride, knowing he helped you grow.

“Bakugo and Y/L/N, you’re team captains in today’s capture the flag.”

You looked at him in surprise. Really? You? Sure, you were getting better but were you really good enough to be a captain of the team? He looked at you expectantly.

“Hurry up idiot we don’t have all day. I’m ready to kick some ass,” Bakugo barked as he stepped up from the line.

You tried your best to suppress your anxious thoughts as you followed suit. Your team was comprised of Mina, Tsuyu, Tenya, Ochaco, Midoriya, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hagakure, and Momo. “Feel free to have grape,” you whispered to Bakugo, trying to muster up some cocky confidence. “And no hard feelings when my team wins.”

It was a total free for all once Aizawa released the class into the city training environment. Your team had decided to split into pairs of those whos quirks best complemented each other. Which meant you were unanimously voted to be paired with Todoroki, seeing as his ice quirk related to your water quirk. You chose not to tell your team that when it came down to it your partner didn’t really matter. Your water quirk also meant you could control others, not that they’ve ever seen you do it.

It was a double objective game. Not only were you trying to protect your own flags hooked onto your uniforms, but you were also in charge of capturing the enemy’s flag. All while being on a thirty-minute time limit. Because of this, you decided to assign two teams to the direct attack- you and Todoroki and Tenya and Tsuyu. Meanwhile, Ochaco, Mina, and Momo were left guarding the base flag while the others spread out through the area.

The first ten minutes passed with seemingly no action, neither team able to find the other in the vacant city.

“Mina, Yuga, and Rikido are out,” Aizawa’s voice boomed through the intercom, startling you slightly.

Todoroki nudged your side gently before sending a sheet of ice along the ground, capturing Jiro and Kaminari by the ankles. With a quick nod and a flick of your wrist, you transformed his ice into water, dragging the flags down with a wave. A look of surprise momentarily crossed all three of their expressions, you were actually using your quirk.

“Denki, Kyoka, Tsuyu, Tenya, and Koji are out.”

“Hey,” you whispered, dragging Todoroki out of his state of shock. “We still have the challenge to win.” Without another word you continued to scour the area, your mind focused on one thing- proving to yourself you could do this.

“We still have the advantage in numbers,” Todoroki spoke up, taking authority. “It’s probably best to trust our other teammates to guard the flag and take out the other team while we go after the flag.” You couldn’t tell if he was looking at you for confirmation or if he was simply trying to see if you understood. Either way, you nodded in response.

The quietness between you two as you both walked through the streets was intense. In all your time together in class, you’ve never really spoken to each other much. Not on purpose though. He was just quiet and you normally had your own things to work on.

A shadow along the ground ripped you from your thought. “Shoto!” Without fully thinking you used your quirk to force him out of the way just as Tokoyami’s dark shadow attempted to rip his flag. Going with the flow you transferred your focus to Tokoyami, stopping him in his tracks as you charged towards him. You slid along the ground by his feet, wiping his flag from his hip easily.

“Fumikage, Mezo, Momo, Toru, Ochaco and Minoru are out.”

You scampered back over to Todoroki who was still trying to process what you did earlier. “Water,” he muttered to himself with a quiet chuckle.

“Eijiro is out.”

“That means it’s down to us and Midoriya. I’ll go after the flag, Katsuki is most likely there. You go help Midoriya,” Todoroki spouted out. He could see the hesitation in your eyes, but this was the best plan he could think of. He had a better chance in a one on one against Katsuki than you did.

You chewed on your lip nervously, trying to steal your nerves so your words could find their way past your throat. “You help Midoriya, I’ve got Bakugo. You’ve got distance on your side, he’ll need that.” The nerves began to overcome you as Todoroki stood there staring at you.

“Okay.”

It was that easy. You’d be lying if you told yourself you weren’t surprised by his reply. He trusted you with this. You shot him a grateful yet relieved smile before sprinting off to the edge of the city. Your legs burned as you ran with full force towards the unguarded flag. Before you could even see where it was coming from an explosive blast knocked you off your feet. Your jacket barely managed to provide a shield against the rough gravel as you skidded across the street.

“For someone who was all talk that seemed pretty easy,” Katsuki boasted despite still keeping his guard up. He made no movements towards you to rip your flag as you scrambled back to your feet.

You regained your footing, squaring off against him. “I’m not done until that flag,” you nodded towards his, “is in my hands.” Your talk was tough, but you couldn’t seem to shake the bubbling fear building inside of you. You had to be smart about every step you took.

Shaking your head, you rushed at him, preparing an offensive attack. Katsuki scoffed at your movements before sending another blast your way. You rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding getting hit. Behind you, the building groaned from the impact of the blast.

“Think. He won’t let me close enough for hand to hand. So it’s down to quirks.” You dodged another blast. He was trying to keep you at a distance. Sweat dripped down from your chin.

“Izuku, Mashirao, and Hanta are out.”

That’s it! You gathered the sweat off your body, forming a puddle in your hands.

Todoroki rushed to the edge of the city, desperate to see what was going on. It was down to you, him and Bakugo. Another blast rang through the now quiet city. Yet neither name had been called yet which meant you were really holding your own.

Using your quirk you allowed your sweat to discreetly form a thin sheet on the ground, similar to how you’ve seen Todoroki use his ice. You pulled Bakugo towards you, using your sheet of sweat to make him practically glide.

Todoroki could barely through the clearing smoke, but he could make out a very clear ‘what the hell’. He watched as Bakugo took staggering steps towards you. It was like he was taking steps he didn’t want to. Todoroki’s mind flashed back to earlier when you had made him move out of the way.

“Come on blasty,” you mumbled to yourself. Any moment now he’d try to hit you. You glanced at the unstable building he hit earlier. The smell of caramel filled your senses. Now! Unsure of which arm he would use you used you directed both of his arms at the building’s weak point.

One final groan escaped from the building as it began to tumble down. Ignoring his flag you began to sprint to the unguarded team flag. You ran through the falling debris, pushing Katsuki back into safety. All around you debris rained as the building crumbled to the ground, but you couldn’t care less. You could see the flag straight ahead. Your legs felt weightless. Behind you, the building fell with one final crash that sent dust everywhere. You glanced over your shoulder to see Katsuki fuming, using his blasts to help him fly across the debris.

Todoroki couldn’t believe what he saw. He knew you were quirk on your feet in a fight, but he never thought you’d do something so bold. So reckless. So crazy. So awe-inspiring. You weren’t the same Y/n that used to be too scared to use her quirk on even a puddle. Before he could think of what he was doing his legs began to move towards the scene.

“I don’t know what you pulled back there, but I’m not done,” Bakugo barked behind you as he landed in front of the debris.

“But I am,” you called back, though you were speaking of something else. You stopped his every movement as you took the last few steps towards the flag. You plucked it from its place on the pole, but the room remained quiet. Even as everyone followed Aizawa onto the training center.

There were no congratulations as you expected. Or team cheering because of the win. There was just silence and stares. All of your previous confidence was slowly disintegrating under their stares.

“That’s a scary quirk to have,” you heard Mineta whisper to Kaminari.

“I wonder what else she can control,” Iida thought aloud.

“Has she been holding back this whole time?” Even Mina joined the whispering among the class.

“That stunt could’ve seriously harmed her and Bakugo,” Momo spoke with a worried expression.

“Y/n’s team is the winner,” Aizawa spoke plainly. You noticed a conflicting look in his eyes. Like he was proud yet, well you couldn’t quite place a finger on what it was

Katsuki scoffed and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I don’t see the big deal,” he addressed everyone aloud. “We both fought.” He shrugged and walked past you. “Just don’t expect it to be as easy next time. You just caught me off guard today that’s all.” He glanced at you, the determination in his eyes setting ablaze a new desire to continue to train.

You opened your mouth to say something but got drowned out by Kirishima’s exclamation. “That was badass! I volunteer to help you train, I have to see more of your quirk.”

A small blush crept onto your cheeks at the sudden positive attention. You nodded shyly in acknowledgment.

“Me too,” Midoriya pipped in with just as much enthusiasm.

“Awesome! I’ve been reading some books Aizawa sensei gave me and I think I could help recovery girl with healing you.” Your eyes sparkled as you rambled off excitedly. You thought growing confident with your quirk was exhilarating, but this was even better. It felt amazing to be able to talk about your quirk freely and you had Aizawa to thank for it.

Bonus:

“Aizawa Sensei!” You picked your pace up to a jog until you got ahead of him. “What’d you think,” you asked eagerly as you spun to face him.

Aizawa shrugged and suppressed a smile. “You went a little overboard if you ask me.”

“I was caught in the moment- Woah!” You lost your footing, sending you tumbling backward. Aizawa caught one of your flailing arms and helped to sturdy you. “I-.” You looked down at your feet shyly. “Thanks,” you spoke as you wrapped your arms around his waist tightly. “Not just for the fall but for helping me be confident too.” Your emotions were becoming overwhelming. Every worry, anxious thoughts, embarrassment, joy, anything you’ve been trying to suppress these past few weeks was beginning to explode out of you. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Aizawa stood frozen in your embrace, unsure of what to do. In all these weeks that have passed, he found himself growing fond of you. You were already one of his favorite students- not that he played favorites- but now he almost thought of you as a daughter. “You could’ve.” That was all he could bring himself to say. Slowly he reciprocated your hug, resting his hand on the back of your head.

He thought of pulling away in case anyone were to come, but decided against it. Instead, he held you as long as he felt you needed, waiting until he felt your arms slacken before he let go. “I’m proud of you if that’s what you wanted to know,” he chuckled. “And as reckless as it looked… It did have an action movie badass look to it.”

Your eyes glistened with tears and for once you weren’t sure if it was from sadness or joy. “Right?! I felt really cool and the adrenaline-.”

You were cut off by Kirishima’s voice across the lawn, “Hey y/n, you ready yet?”

“Yeah one sec,” you yelled out. You turned back to Aizawa with an apologetic look, “sorry, Kirishima wanted to see if anyone could beat me at swimming. But, I’ll see you in class and training on Monday. Bye sensei,” you rambled quickly with a small wave before taking off towards Kirishima, Katsuki, Midoriya, and Todoroki.

Aizawa watched with a small smile playing on his lips knowing you were going to do great things.

#aizawa sensei #aizawa shouta #shoto aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa x you #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa imagine #bnha aizawa #mr aizawa #aizawa headcanons #shoto todoroki #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #mha fanfic #mha imagines

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princess-of-riviaa · 4 years ago

Text

Stress Relief

Pairing: Syverson x OFC (Bek); August Walker x OFC (Bek); Syverson x Yennefer

Author’s Note: This takes place in an AU where Syverson, August, Geralt, Jaskier, and Yennefer are all members of a motorcycle club/bike gang. I have written another oneshot that takes place in the same AU called Let Him Watch with Geralt and Jaskier.

Summary: August has kept Bek tied up all day, and as a reward, he instructs Sy on how to fuck her.

Warning(s): cuckolding, cheating but it’s consensual (?), bondage

Word Count:

The White Wolves: Motorcycle Club

The Cast

August Walker: half-brother to Sy; second-in-command/enforcer; took on the heavy responsibilities of the gang after his “death” with Ethan Hunt; stays lowkey and doesn’t leave the compound unless necessary

Lucas “Sy” Syverson: half-brother to August; gang leader; retired from army after his 3rd tour and joined the gang, quickly rising to the top

Geralt Rivian: tactics specialist (teaches everyone how to operate handguns and how to beat people up); in a polyamorous relationship with Jaskier and some girl no one can ever remember the name of

Julian “Jaskier” Alfred Pankratz: in charge of gang inventory and negotiations (when needed); in a polyamorous relationship with Geralt and some girl no one can ever remember the name of

Walter Marshall: the police lieutenant with an unhealthy obsession with taking down The White Wolves after the bike gang “accidentally” killed Marshall’s daughter in a fire

Yennefer “Yenni” Venger: transport specialist, since she’s more obsessed with bikes than anyone in the gang; cousin of Jaskier and ex to Geralt, now married to Sy

Rebekah “Bek” Hunt: the gang’s whore with a secret knack for hacking; is August’s unofficial girlfriend, though she’ll get with any of the gang members if they ask (and they have)

...

The ropes are beginning to dig into Beks’ skin. She’s lost track of how long she’s been like this, how long it’s been since the gang left. Her throat is dry, her muscles sore from a late night of being fucked by August, but above everything she’s bored. There’s only so much time she can spend tied up--alone and waiting like the good whore she is--before she loses interest.

The day started a lot better than it ended. Beks woke up this morning to a pleasurable wetness between her thighs. Only when she’d opened her eyes and looked down had she realized it was August, eating her out with such skill that she was coming in her sleep. He’d held her down with his body weight and forced her to take everything he gave her. He ate her out for a good half hour, clearly trying to get his fill of her. She’d lost count of how many times he brought her to orgasm. When she thought he’d finally relent on her sore, swollen pussy, he pulled his cock out and began fucking her. She was in tears by the end, completely overstimulated, but the sight of her like that had only urged August to continue. He’d left her alone only because his gang--The White Wolves, which he was the second-in-command of--had needed to take care of some business with another bike gang. That’s when he’d decided to tie her up to his bed, leaving her naked body sore and trapped until he returned.

That was six hours ago. The men haven’t been back yet. The only noise heard in the compound had come from Geralt’s--and now Jaskier’s--girlfriend. What was her name again? Beks never talked to her (both of them were usually too busy being fucked to get to know each other) and didn’t feel as bad about not knowing the girl’s name as she probably should. All she knew about the nameless girl was that she’s the only woman, save for Yenni, that Geralt had ever really let himself fall for. He’d started sharing her with Jaskier lately, something that surprised Bek. Geralt was known around the compound for being territorial about the few things he let himself claim as his. But him and Jaskier were also best friends, so them divulging in a polyamorous relationship with a beautiful woman kind of made sense.

Beks used to be Geralt’s whore. Well, technically she wasn’t his. She was shared amongst the men of the gang, but Geralt had used her services the most. Especially when Yenni and Sy had first started dating; that had been a rough, lonely time for him. Beks had been happy to ease his hurting and warm his bed on nights when he needed someone. She loved talking to him late into the night, too. He’s such a closet genius about everything; it’s always fun to pick his brain about things.

But now she unofficially belonged to August. Once he’d faked his death publicly--he used to work for the CIA, but ran into some trouble with an agent named Ethan Hunt that August couldn’t recover from--he basically moved into the compound. Before that, Beks had only seen him a handful of times. But once he became a permanent resident here, he set his sights on her. She tried playing hard to get but he didn’t take no for an answer, and with a body like his and the dark, kinky mind inside his head, she couldn’t resist for long. And once he had her, neither one of them could get enough. He became her regular client. And though it had never officially been stated, she was more his girlfriend now than just the gang’s whore.

A door slams shut and Beks jumps, the ropes around her wrists burning her already-sore skin. Her heart begins to race at the thought of August returning to her. Only now does she realize how wound up she’s been. Despite him more than satisfying her needs this morning, she still craves for him to be deep inside of her again.

There’s voices in the hallway--Geralt’s, she thinks. And maybe Sy? They sound angry. She wonders what happened today. Butterflies make her stomach turn. August always fucks her so good when he’s pent up about something. She’s going to get it good tonight.

The door to his room opens and she tenses, already anticipating the marks he’s going to leave on her body.

“I’ve waited for you all day, just like you wanted--” she begins, then freezes when she sees Sy walk into the room. She’s completely naked, everything on display, and though he’s seen her naked a few times, he’s a married man and the leader of their group. He’s never anything less than professional and the thought of him seeing her like this…

He freezes in the doorway, unable to keep himself from taking in her naked body. Goosebumps rise on Bek’s skin as he eye-fucks her.

“Uh… Sy?” She clears her throat, suddenly catching herself. “I mean, Syverson? Where’s August?”

He appears in the doorway behind Sy, looking as coy as the devil. “Hey, beautiful.”

Beks looks between the two men. They’re half-brothers--same dad, different moms--and you can see the resemblance in their body shapes. They’re both tall and thick with muscle. It makes them intimidating to everyone, even people who are on their good side. But that’s where the similarities stop.

Sy’s beard has grown since Beks last saw him and there’s obvious stress in his eyes. She imagines that, if he’d let his hair grow out, he’d be losing most of it from the stress of being the gang’s leader. Beks is happy he has Yenni to go to; only someone as level-headed and strong as her could manage to hold Sy up through all of his hardships. The jeans and red shirt he’s in are the same Beks spotted him in two days ago. She wonders how much sleep he’s gotten in the past few days.

August, on the other hand, is freshly shaven save for his beard. There’s a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there when he entered the room. Looking at Beks always made him brighten up a little, even if he was reluctant to admit it. He wore the navy shirt of his that you normally sleep in. He’d taken it today because, after weeks of you wearing it every night, it now smells like you and not him, and he’d wanted something of yours to keep close while he dealt with gang business. It fits him well, and by that Beks means it’s now a size too small due to all the wash cycles it’s survived, and August’s muscles are clearly defined under the material.

“What’s going on?” Her voice shakes with uncertainty. If there was a meeting going to be held that she needed to be a part of, wouldn’t August have untied her by now? Why are they just standing in the doorway, watching her? And more importantly, why does she like it so much?

August comes over to the bed and leans down to check the ropes on her wrists. “Relax, baby girl.”

Somehow those three simple words manage to calm her. She relaxes on the bed.

“You’ve been so good today,” he tells her, “waiting for me like this. I know it was hard. You did good.”

Beks feels her face warm at the praise. That’s always been her weakness, which is probably the only reason August--cold, sadistic August--says things like that to her, because he knows the effect those words have on her, how it makes her so willing and compliant for him.

“And as a reward, I’m going to let Sy fuck you,” August continues.

Bek’s eyes go wide as she glances at Sy in the doorway, watching her carefully. “What? What about Yenni?”

The corners of Sy’s mouth perk up, like he’s amused at Beks’ response. “She said she wants me to do this with you.”

Yeah, right. Beks trusted Sy, but she knows every trick in the book that men like to play. She’s not about to fall for that. “I’m going to need to hear her say it.”

“He’s telling the truth,” comes Yenni’s voice as she rounds the corner. She’s wearing a leather jacket and tight jeans. Her black hair is pulled back in a high ponytail and her red lipstick brings attention to her mouth. She’s stunningly beautiful, not even Beks can deny that. Yenni throws her a small smile as she enters the room. “I have my own reasons for agreeing to this, but you have my approval.”

Beks swallows, suddenly nervous. It’s not like she’s never been naked in a room full of people, but it’s still unnerving. Something about this feels wrong. That’s probably why it’s making her so wet. She looks back at August, reading his face for any signs of uncertainty or hesitancy.

“I’m going to tell Sy exactly how to make you fall apart,” August tells her. “Does that sound good?”

The little gasp Beks makes gives away how she feels about it.

August smirks at her. “You’re already so wet at the thought of this, aren’t you? Such a fucking slut, just how I like it.”

Before Beks can say anything, August takes a seat on the couch in the corner. Beks can see his slight erection with the way his legs are spread. She’s surprised cuckolding turns him on so much, but more surprised he’s waited this long to try it out. Yenni takes a seat beside August, her attention solely on her husband.

Beks swallows. “You’re staying?”

Yenni’s blue-purple eyes slide to hers. “Of course. I have to tell you how to please my husband, where and how to touch him to make him fall apart.”

Only now does Beks begin to realize that this had all been planned. The three of them had known about this, anticipated this, planned for this, all without telling her. Beks looks back at August. He can see the betrayal and hurt in her eyes. She’s more than willing to do anything in the bedroom, but she needs to know first. And he just threw this all on her with no warning. There’s a flash of regret in August’s eyes. Beks knows that’s the only apology she’s going to get from him.

Sy makes his way to the bed, tossing his shirt off on the way. Beks can’t help herself from staring at the thick expanse of muscle that is his arms, chest, and stomach. Dark hair swirls around his pecs and abdomen, disappearing below his pantline. His skin is a deep tan and Beks can feel the warmth radiating off of him. The way he crawls over her makes her simultaneously slick with arousal and still with nerves.

“What’s your safeword?” August calls out, sensing Bek’s sudden unease.

“Hunt,” she replies, her gaze locked on Sy’s. “My safeword is Hunt.”

“And yours?” Yenni asks Sy.

His gaze travels from Bek’s eyes to her mouth, and then to something above her. “Purple,” he says just as he pulls out a pocket knife and cuts the ropes that had been restraining Beks all day. He turns to cut the ropes at her ankles, too.

“Spread her legs,” August demands of Sy.

He complies before Beks can even process August’s words, and with a sharp movement her legs are spread wide, revealing her dripping pussy to Sy. His eyes are hungry as he looks at the arousal dripping between her legs.

“Kiss her leg,” August says. “Start at the ankle and move up to the hip.”

Sy begins to leave a trail of soft pecks up her leg. It feels so good that goosebumps rise on Bek’s body and she shivers with pleasure. He massages her calf and thigh as he kisses her, making her body so relaxed that she practically melts into the bed. When Sy gets to her hip, he pauses, awaiting further instruction.

“Do it again to the other leg,” August tells him. “Don’t give her cunt a second of attention.”

Beks resists the urge to whine at his words, needing relief from the aching heat in her core, but she knows August will make Sy punish her if she complains. So she holds her whine in and watches with half-closed eyes as Sy moves onto her other leg. August knows exactly what this is doing to Bek. He knows nothing winds her up more than when he touches the inside of her thighs. That’s exactly why he’s making Sy do it now, because he loves watching her squirm as her pussy gets wetter and wetter, desperate for attention.

“Now run a finger between her folds,” August orders when Sy kisses his way up Bek’s other leg. “See how wet she is. If she’s not completely dripping you’re going to do it again.”

Beks lets out a moan as Sy runs a thick, calloused finger between her folds, soaking up enough arousal from her that it begins to drip down his hand.

“Oh, yeah,” he grunts out, his pupils completely blown, “she’s fucking soaked.” He addresses Beks as he says, “You like being teased, don’t you? Yeah, you’re a beggar, I can tell.”

Beks bites her lip, trying to keep from squirming. There’s little she loves more than dirty talk. And the way Sy is looking at her, looking ready to devour her, with that thick Southern accent of his… oh, fuck.

“Lie on your back, Sy,” Yenni says, standing from the couch and putting something in Bek’s hand. She turns it over to see that it’s a cock ring. “It’s your turn to get wound up.”

Though he seems a bit reluctant to submit so easily, the soldier in him can’t resist following orders, and he lies on his back beside Bek. She sits up and turns to look down at him, enjoying the change of positions as much as Sy hates it.

“Put that ring on him,” Yenni tells Bek, “and give him the blowjob of your life.”

Beks doesn’t have to be told twice. She moves to straddle Sy’s thick thighs, his strong muscles brushing against her sensitive thighs as she slides the cock ring down his thick shaft. He has a slight curve and a prominent vein on the underside of his cock, and though he’s impressive in both length and girth, August is a bit longer than Sy. Beks takes note of this, grateful that she’ll probably be able to fit him in her mouth more easily than she can with August.

Sy watches Beks anxiously, waiting for the moment she first puts her mouth on him. But any good whore knows that to give a good blowjob, you don’t start with deepthroating the guy. She leans down and begins to suck on his balls, no doubt sending waves of pleasure through his entire body. By the time she’s done, his cock is covered in his own pre-cum, the tip completely swollen and red. She gives the head of his cock a few teasing kitten licks before licking right up the center and letting his pre-cum fall on her tongue. Sy curses under his breath. Beks smiles, knowing she’s wound him up enough to really go to town now. She slowly takes all of him in her mouth, swirling her tongue along the bottom of his cock as she bobs her head up and down his length. His hips are thrusting up in no time, desperate for release. But even if she wanted to give it to him, that ring won’t let him reach his climax.

“Are you ready baby?” Yenni addresses Sy. “Do you want her tight little cunt wrapped around you?”

“Fuck yes,” Sy growls as his gaze darkens on Beks, looking at her like an animal ready to devour its prey, and the look makes Beks burn with want.

“Straddle him,” August commands Beks. “Sink down on him slowly. I want you to feel every inch of him entering you.”

Beks is quick to obey and adjusts herself on top of Sy. He’s thick with muscle just like August, and her legs spread far as she straddles his hips. His erection rests between her folds. The meeting point of both their sexes sends tingles through her entire body so intense that she can barely breathe. They’re both tense with anticipation. Beks moves up on her knees and wraps her hand around the base of Sy’s cock, holding it at her entrance as she begins to sink down on him. They both let out cries and moans of pleasure as she slowly pushes him all the way inside of her.

“Fuck,” Sy breathes once he’s fully bottomed out inside of her.

“What do I do now, Daddy?” she asks August, unable to keep her eyes off of Sy’s blue ones.

“I want you to bounce on his cock,” August says, “and not stop until you’ve cum at least twice.”

And so she begins.

***

Tag Squad:

@agniavateira @evnscvll @littlefreya @celestial-vomit @lestersglitterglue @watermeloncavill @honeychicana @penwieldingdreamer @mary-ann84 @elixasays @buckysgoldenheart @noz4a2 @trippedmetaldetector @omgkatinka @lunedelorient @aphrodites-punch @yespolkadotkitty @sweetybuzz25 @iloveyouyen @deathonyourtongue @utterlyhopeful @wondersofdreaming @tsukuyomi011 @the-soot-sprite @desperate-and-broken @jayismz @emelinelovesjc @palaiasaurus64 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @henrythickcavill @secretlyactivated @madbaddic7ed @persephonehemingway @geralt-of-baevia @stargazingfangirl18 @thedarkplume @spookypeachx @pensieveforyourthoughts @aletheladyinred @littlemissthistle @designerwriterchic @becs-bunker @angelic-kisses13 @captainbigdy @sestrasasylum @radaofrivia @nuns-and-roses

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myboipotterimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Hesitant - Draco Malfoy

Request: 29, 37, 40 with Draco Malfoy please?😊😊 29: “How is my wife more badass than me?” 37: “Welcome to fatherhood.” 40: “The kids, they ambushed me.”

(A/N: Please don’t hate me, but I didn’t add #40. I couldn’t add it in authentically and didn’t want to drag the story on after the best ending point. I really love this story and would love to do a part two, if that makes it better. :) )

Draco Malfoy never thought that he was going to be a father. For a while, he didn’t even think he would live to be an adult. During your school years, you knew Draco as the snobby rich kid that always got what he wanted. You were hesitant of him, even after Voldemort was killed.

You were one of the students that came back for eighth year. You never got to take your N.E.W.T.S., and you knew future employers would care about your scores. You wanted to become a professor; you felt called to return to Hogwarts and teach the future generation of wizards.

Your first interaction with Draco was in the library. You were huddled away in a corner, studying for a Transfiguration quiz. You had talked to McGonagall at the beginning of the year about your future. She gave you her blessing to take over her position the following year, as she would be Headmistress of the school.

Draco sat down at a table diagonal from where you were seated. He was taking notes out of a copy of the same book you were using. He was having issues, clearly frustrated by something within the pages. “Draco?” The boy looked up at you, tears edging his bottom eyelid. “Can I help?” He nodded, giving you the permission you needed to slip into the seat beside him. You turned the book to find him looking at instructions for how to turn a cat into a cup. “Do you think it hurts them?” he asks, his voice soft, but even. He was on the verge of a breakdown, and you didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know. I hope not.” Draco nodded, once again. “I’ll ask McGonagall if we can skip that portion of the exam, in case it does.” You gently closed the textbook in front of the boy. “Not a lot of people are in the class. Really, only those who want to become aurors. I assume, you already knew that much, though.”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t want to become an auror.” You sit back. “Alright, what is your dream?” “I want to become a professor. Not of transfiguration, of course. Something I’m good at, like potions or DADA. I’ve gotten pretty good at it from my time on the other side.” He gently laughs, causing you to smile back.

“I haven’t told anyone, but I want to become a Professor, too.” “When we’re both professors, we have to get together and plan our homework assignments out so we don’t assign a ton for the same day. It’s just cruel,” Draco said, motioning to the stack of papers still laid across from him. “One, agreed. Two, it’s easier if you don’t wait until the day they’re due,” you replied after picking one up. “I’ll help.”

__________________________

It was January when you began developing feelings for the Slytherin. Your friendship had grown steadily and you became inseparable. “Guess what,” you said, sitting across from him at dinner. Draco tilted his head. “You know I hate guessing games.” “Just guess!” “You’re pregnant?” You gasp. “How did you guess?” Draco’s face twists in confusion. “Wait, what?” “Of course I’m not pregnant! Did you lose all your brain cells after you bleached your hair or what?” “Hey! My hair is naturally this color,” he states, crossing his arms. “Okay, okay, back to my news. Professor Sprout is retiring, which means I could be head of house next year!” “(Y/N), that is amazing!” Draco said, pulling you into a hug. You slowly pulled away, looking into his eyes. You had never been this close to him. You always saw him as a threat, someone who hated you and your friends. You felt his hand linger at your waist. He was kinder, now, more humane. You could see the person that was underneath the cold exterior. “What are you thinking about?” Draco asked, his voice barely a whisper. “You.” “Why?” he asked, narrowing his brow. “So much has changed this year. I’ve lost friends, family... I didn’t even know who I was for a while. I came back this year to finish off my schooling and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. When I learned that you were coming back I was angry. I didn’t know why McGonagall would let you come back into this place that you helped ruin. But, I feel different now, so different. Everything I thought about you was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, his voice thick with emotion. “I hated the person that I was, and I am trying so hard to become better. I want a future. I want a family. I want...” Draco paused, considering his words. You held his hand in yours. “Just say it,” you whispered. “You.”

__________________________

Draco proposed within a year.

You sat cross-legged on your bed, turning through pages of worn-out textbooks. Draco sat on the floor below you, brewing a potion that you had never heard of. You were both hired on as professors, Draco as potions and yourself as transfiguration. Harry had taken the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. You were all proud Heads of House, as well.

“What’s that potion supposed to do, again?” you asked, distracting yourself from your lesson plans. “It’s not one you take internally. Basically, you throw it on the ground and fireworks appear directly above wherever the glass shattered. George sent me the instructions.” “George Weasley? I didn’t know you two were close.” “We weren’t until recently. I wanted to right my wrongs and make peace by him. We aren’t quite friends yet, but we’re working on it.” Draco looked up at you from the potion, giving you a small smile. “I think it’s done. Do you want to go try it out with me before I show it to my class?” “It’s almost dinner time. All of the students will be in the courtyard. What if it goes berserk or something?” “Come on, (Y/N), you have to have a little more faith in Georgie and me,” Draco smiles, pulling you off the bed.

You make it to the center of the courtyard, “the perfect place”, as Draco calls it. A crowd had gathered around you to watch the fireworks, including Harry and Headmaster McGonagall. “Draco, if this thing doesn’t work you’re going to be in so much-”. Your eyes meet with Draco’s, who slowly drops down on one knee.

“(Y/F/N), you have brought so much meaning into my life over this past year. You give me inspiration in everything that I do. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Draco says, his voice cracking. “Will you marry me?” “Yes!” you cry, pulling Draco into a kiss. Cheers surround you and fireworks crackle above. “I love you,” you whisper into Draco’s chest. “I love you more.”

__________________________

It took five years for you to become pregnant. After thousands of tears over a singular line, you shed tears for a set of two. You sat on the bathroom floor alone, clutching the pregnancy test in your hand. You had been trying for a baby for three years, and you held the proof of your baby’s life within your hands. After leaving your bathroom, you dropped the pregnancy test into the pocket of Draco’s robes he would be wearing for dinner. You hoped that he would find the test as soon as he put the robe on. It was simple, but that’s what you wanted.

When Draco entered your room, he broke into sobs. You ran to him, wrapping your arms around his shaking body. You gently pulled him to your bed, sitting both of you down. “What happened?” “Hermione asked me to come speak to her History of Magic class about the Battle of Hogwarts. She explained to them about how I was on the side of the Death Eaters. I thought that I had moved on from my past, that I was more than it, but I don’t think I am.” “Draco, you are so much more than your past. I have seen you change and grow. You have become someone that I love and respect, so much. You care for others and you care about others. Hermione wanted you to speak to her students to show that whatever situation you are in, you can always overcome it.” “What if those students never look at me the same? What if they see me as a monster?” he asked, spitting out the last word. “They won’t because they have no reason to.” You stood up, grabbing the pregnancy test from the robes. “They see you as what you are: a good professor, a great husband, and,” you pause, handing Draco the test, “a wonderful father.”

Draco’s hand shook as he took the test from your hand. “You’re pregnant?” he asked, eyes tearful. You could only nod, now crying as well. Draco let out a laugh, pulling you into a hug. “We’re going to be parents.” “Yeah, we are!” you exclaim, now laughing as well.

__________________________

In nine months, you welcomed Scorpius Malfoy into the world.

It had been a long labor and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, your son barely in your arms. Draco rested his hands on your shoulders, looking down at his child. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. You looked up at him and smiled gently. “How is my wife more badass than me?” he laughed, wiping his tears.

“Do you want to hold him?” Draco nods viciously, holding out his hands. You gently transfer the baby into his arms. “Careful with his head.” You don’t even know if he heard you. As soon as he settled Scorpius into his arms, he was in his own world. You had never seen him so happy. When he finally looked at you, he broke into a wide grin. You smiled back, “Welcome to fatherhood.”

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #hp imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter #hp

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k7l4d4 · 3 years ago

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 2 Part 2

Hello all, here’s another chapter of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!!

“So Luz, what kind of magic are you gonna use to help deliver these potions?” King, ‘innocently’ asked.

Luz snorted. “Hopefully none. As much as I would love to just bulldoze through everyone who ends up bugging me, causing trouble is just going to lead to trouble. Plus, that potion I took may have gotten me energized, but it’s a quick fix.” She glanced down at King. “It gets me up to a point where I can function normally, but if I exert myself, like using magic, I’ll end up burning through a lot more energy than I should. I really don’t want to end up captured by some creeps because I lost my temper and got too tired to defend myself.” She carefully made sure not to mention the unspoken “again” of that statement.

King huffed, but didn’t try to push it. “Fine. But just to let you know, while Eda’s probably right about people not caring too much about you being human, you should expect some of her stupider customers to try and cheat you.” As magnanimous of a King as he was, King was nothing if not blunt and to the point with his subjects; he wasn’t going to have his latest vassal humiliated by fools stupid enough to underestimate her.

Luz snorted. “Pfft. If these guys are dumb enough to short change me, than they’ll have to answer to Eda. And, to make sure she knows just how much to shake down punks like that for, I’m planning to write up a list of who pays me what amount, so Eda can see for herself.” Luz finished, a satisfied smirk playing across her face.

King giggled mischievously. “Oh, the looks on their faces when Eda comes calling is gonna be priceless!” As Luz herself cracked up at the thought, the two friends laughed all the way into town, the slight gloom that had been hanging around them since leaving the Owl House all but gone.

As they finally approached the town, the two had markedly different reactions. Luz gave a wry grin, a mix of apprehension and eagerness crossing her face. King, on the other hand, just gave a tired grunt at the sight before him; in the end, the town was no different than any other day.

King turned a side-long glance at Luz. “You sure this’ll go alright? I wasn’t kidding about people here being willing to take advantage of you.”

Luz just grinned back. “Eh, nothing I haven’t had to deal with before.” King wanted to ask, but was prevented by the pair of arms suddenly wrapped around his torso, lifting him off the ground.

“OH MY TITAN YOU ARE SO ADORABLE!!!!” The Witchling who was responsible for King’s predicament squealed. The echoing squeals revealed that the Witchling in question was just one of a group. The lead Witchling, a girl with a pink tone to her skin, purple-fuchsia hair, and a third eye, was currently cooing over King, who was vigorously struggling to escape.

“And enough of that.” Having realized what was happening, Luz easily yanked King from the girl’s grip, plopping him on the ground.

“Hey!” The girl shouted, her group pulling up behind her. “Who do you think you are?!?”

Luz cocked an eyebrow, completely unimpressed by the almost stereotypical display. “I think I’m late for my deliveries,” she gestured to King, “and he’s the one guiding me around. Later.” Her piece said, Luz turned on her heel, swiftly walking away from the annoyance.

Said annoyance rapidly grew red in the face at the blatant dismissal. She reached out for the human, expecting to stop her. “Do you have any clue who I am?” Just as her hand touched Luz’s arm, her wrist was caught, painfully twisted to the side, all while Luz’s eyes stayed fixed to the map King was holding up to her, effortlessly dragging the witch along.

Luz idly responded to the girl, clearly not paying attention. “I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care. I’ve got a lot more important things than dealing with a kid on an ego trip.” As the girl started struggling against her grip, Luz released her, sending her sprawling into the dirt.

“My name is Boscha, remember it!” The girl, Boscha apparently, shouted. “And I’m not going to take that kind of disrespect from a human of all things!” With her declaration made, Boscha quickly cast a fireball, holding it aloft for a second before chucking it.

“Light-Make: Shield.” Not even turning to the oncoming threat, and utterly heedless to the rapidly growing muttering of the bystanders, Luz effortlessly blocked the, by her standards, mediocre fire spell launched her way.

Finally bothering to turn to the Witch, Luz gave her an unimpressed stare. “Cute. Try that again, and I’ll send you to your parents in a full body cast.” Still holding the shield in place, Luz dismissed it, and headed on her way.

Boscha couldn’t breathe. What just happened, it should’ve been impossible. That was one of her best fireballs, and a human of all things blocked it with magic! Light magic, the most basic magic of all times! How was that even a thing!? Humans can’t use magic, everyone knew that, so how did a weakling human block her flames? She didn’t understand. As her mind started to spin, Boscha’s legs grew weak, buckling under her as she fell to her knees. What just happened, it couldn’t be.

Even as her followers (friends, her brain whispered), shook her shoulder, she wouldn’t respond. Eventually, Skara decided enough was enough, and hoisted the other Witch over her shoulders, visibly exerting over the strain of lifting Boscha’s more athletic body. Boscha didn’t respond. What just happened, she needed to understand.

Utterly indifferent to the stir she had created, Luz carried on her way, following King’s instructions to navigate to the letter. As they worked their way down the list, Luz couldn’t help but feel progressively more and more annoyed. Every time the customer opened the door, she either got screamed at, an attempt to eat her, or both. And to add injury to insult, over eighty percent of the customers had short-changed her!!! Needless to say, Luz was in a pretty bad mood after a few hours of dealing with that.

Luz groaned aloud, utterly exhausted from the ordeal. “Ugh, this is so annoying!! Everyone, absolutely EVERYONE, on the list acted like I was diseased or a wild animal!! I get it, humans aren’t normal here, but did they have to act like I was some half-trained pet!?” She growled.

King hummed, hiding his own frustration. Any insult to his court was an insult against him, so of course he wouldn’t stand for it. “As much as I hate to say it, that probably isn’t that far off. When me and Eda said that humans aren’t thought too highly of here, we meant it. They treated you like a pet because, to a lot of people, you might as well be one. Humans aren’t just seen as weak, they’re also seen as pretty dumb too. Sorry you had to find out like that, though.” And he meant it; Luz was one of the few people who consistently treated him with respect (so far at least), so seeing her disrespected was seriously frustrating.

Luz shot him a crooked grin. “Eh, it’s no big deal. I’ll just have to put more effort into changing their minds than I thought. That’s all.” She hummed to herself, idly tuning out the memories of the last time she had been treated as a “pet.”

King gave his best shot at a grin. He didn’t really get Luz all that much, but if she was gonna try, the least her King could do was offer his support of a worthy goal, and the respect of the masses is always a worthy goal. “Still, we got one last person to check off the list before we head home; some guy called Adegast.”

Luz groaned. “Ugh! If this turns out like all the rest, I swear I am going to burn his house to the ground. Seriously, if this had been one of my novels, we’d have already been recruited by some kind of quest granting Wizard and drafted into a mission against the forces of evil. If this guy doesn’t at least treat us with some basic decency, I am going to lose it.” Luz was seriously done. Today just seemed to keep getting worse, and she was almost at her wits end.

As they arrived at the destination, King and Luz both pulled up short. Standing before them was, to put it bluntly, a fantasy-style castle you’d see in a fairy tale. Luz sent a sideways glance at King. “I’m guessing castles in Bonesburough are new to you too?” She tried to play it off, but her battle instinct was itching.

King gave a wary nod. “Yeah, that’s definitely new.”

Before they could continue, however, the doors of the castle opened on their own, a mystical-looking fog spilling out. Striding forth was, by all accounts, a stereotypical wizard, beard, staff, robes and all. Luz was instantly suspicious. “Hello travelers! Are you the ones sent to deliver to me my potions order?” His voice was deep, one could even call it wise sounding, but to Luz and King, it just sounded like trouble. A familiar bitterness built up in Luz’s throat.

Shaking her head, Luz brushed off her personal feelings, putting on her most pleasant expression, no reason to needlessly antagonize a customer, after all. “Hello sir, we’ve got the potions you ordered right here!” She held up the sack of potions, now heavily depleted compared to how it started, and tried hard to hold in her dislike of the situation. Her suspicions increased when the “wizard” closed in.

“Nonsense! Please, come inside, come inside! You two must have worked yourselves to the bone handling such dreadful deliveries.” Before they could protest, he hurriedly ushered them inside, revealing an opulent interior. “Please, make yourselves at home, I insist!”

“As nice as this all seems,” Luz began, hesitantly rubbing her arm, “We really do have to get going soon.”

“Adegast’s” eyes widened in apparent distress. “But young lady, you’ve only just arrived! Please, you and your companion simply must join me for some tea!” He gestured to his table, tea and scones already set out and ready. The alarm bells were ringing even LOUDER in Luz’s already wary mind.

“Luz, let’s go, this guy’s seriously creepy!” King fervently whispered.

“Trust me, I know.” Luz murmured back. “But if we offend him, Eda might permanently lose a customer.” And like hell was Luz going to sabotage her Land-lady’s business just because one of her clients gave her the willies.

As the two reluctantly sat down, Luz did her best to keep a pleasant look on her face. King allowed his concerns to ease as he dug into the scones, focusing on them over the eeriness of the situation. “Adegast” leaned forward. “I dare say, I never thought I’d see a true human before mine eyes. Pray tell, how did thou find thyself upon our fair Isles?”

While Luz was sure this guy was hamming it up way too much, she felt caution was better than full-blown paranoia, and decided to answer. “To be honest, an animal stole my book, and I followed it to here.” Her eyes caught sight of something; a small cart loaded with potions. “Do you run a potions business yourself?” The sinking feeling was getting stronger.

“Adegast” nodded, a pleased gleam in his eyes. “Indeed, I run a small stand of procurements for those in need.” The admission did nothing for Luz’s nerves; if anything, the pit in her gut grew deeper. “But enough about me, what about you, dear one?” It took a lot for Luz not to snap at the overly-familiar title. “I see something special in you…”

Luz recoiled. “Me!? Special!? Oh no, nonononono, you’ve definitely got the wrong girl.” She wasn’t bluffing, as experience had amply taught Luz that, personality aside, she was utterly ordinary as a person in terms of abilities, nothing exceptional about her beyond her own determination and stubbornness.

“Adegast’s” eyes shone with sparkles; Luz found it creepy. “But you are!! I believe you to be the one to complete the great quest!”

Luz pulled up short at that. “A quest?”

“Indeed!” The self-seeming wizard stated. “You are the one who can retrieve the Celestial Staff, and vanquish the great evil plaguing these lands!! Look, I even have a map!” He revealed the map, and while it certainly looked old, all of Luz’s instincts were on edge. Still, she put on a cheerful face, hiding the bitterness building inside.

“I-I thank you for this quest, sir.” She stated as politely as she could. “As soon as I return to my master, I will inform her of this development.” With her piece said, she stood up, bowed, and dragged King out the door, “Adegast” waving them off behind her.

“Pfft. Chosen one. What a load, eh Luz?” King joked, clearly in disbelief of what the “wizard” was trying to pull. King froze at the look on Luz’s face; cold-blooded hate was etched across her face, almost stone-like in how still it was. “Luz?”

Luz’s face cleared, a look of tired despondency on her face. “Sorry King. I just… I just want to get home.” With that said, she and the demon made their way back to the Owl House, neither saying a world over what they had experienced.

As they crossed into the house, the two pulled up short. Before them, sprawled across the couch, utterly coated in trash and feathers, was a completely exhausted Eda, the snoring form of Hooty laid across her torso.

Luz’s face fell into a deadpan. “He got into the potion, didn’t he?”

Eda turned a weak glare her way. “No duh kid. This menace was ripping his way around the house for HOURS!!! I couldn’t even stop him, all I managed was to minimize and repair the damage, and wait for him to tire out. Say, why are you all looking so glum?”

King glanced at Luz, before speaking up. “One of the customers said she was some kind of chosen one, or something.”

Eda blinked, before cracking up in tired laughter. “A Chosen One!?!? Pleeeassseee don’t tell me you believe that kind of malarkey!?”

Her laughter stilled at the baleful glare Luz leveled at her. It cut deep, just how much pain was in it. Luz gave a grin, one filled with the kind of bitterness Eda usually only saw on herself after a run-in with Lily. “We’ve got a saying in the Human Realm: fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” With her piece said, Luz marched up the stairs, heedless of the concerned calls from behind her.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #eda clawthorne #luz noceda #king the owl house #boscha the owl house #skara the owl house #adegast #magic

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iamcayc · 4 years ago

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The Sounds of Gojo - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Exchange Rating: SFW Word Count: 4292 Relationships: Gojo x OC (Kaya)

read here on Ao3

To say that you’re going to murder your cousin would be a vast understatement. Not only did you explicitly tell him to come pick you up after work promptly at 3:30 PM, but you also reiterated that you had zero interest in putting up with Gojo’s shit when you’re still feeling like you ran a marathon after being squashed by an elephant. It was a very reasonable request, and you had worded it very clearly to avoid any potential miscommunication.

So, one could imagine your immense disappointment and rage at the sight of white hair... and that smug-ass grin?

Kento Nanami is dead to you.

“Hey there, teach.” He’s wearing Ray-Bans today, his hair framing his face in a way that makes him look more youthful—and much to your chagrin, more attractive.

“Heard you could use a ride to collect your bike from the school, so I generously offered my services.” You notice that some of the girls are staring at him unabashedly, making you roll your eyes. Sexually-repressed teenage girls around Gojo is a terrifying thought, so you quickly usher him off the grounds and towards the front gate.

“What’s the rush?” he asks amiably. “It’s a nice day, after all. Wanna go get some donuts? There’s a new shop around here that I was thinking about trying.”

Your arms are folded across your chest as you glower at him. “Why are you really here?”

He pouts prettily at you. “Huh? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Why on earth would that be my reaction to you showing up unannounced at my work, again?”

“Well, I still owe you compensation for helping me out last night.” He shrugs as he faces you. “Plus, I thought we had some chemistry going, but maybe I misread the banter. I mean, you brought up my dick the other night—”

Knowing full well that you won’t make actual contact, you cover his mouth with your hand anyway.

“Take me to get my bike so I can be rid of you sooner rather than later,” you hiss. His mouth stays covered until he nods, but your hands don’t make it away unscathed. No, just before you can yank your hand back, Gojo grabs hold of your wrist and you freeze. Not because he grabbed your wrist, but because you can actually feel his skin against yours.

He’s dropped Infinity, just long enough to stroke his thumb across the sensitive patch of skin inside your wrist. He makes actual contact just long enough to brush his surprisingly-soft lips against the back of your hand, all the while maintaining unwavering eye contact.

If you aren’t so stunned, you know your panties would be soaking wet at the intimacy of the moment.

But you are stunned, so you wrench your hand out of his as if burned.

Gojo simply smiles at you before gesturing at the sleek black car parked behind him. “Figured you’d want a ride, rather than warp.”

You sigh and head towards the car, shooting Kento a text.

You 3:30 PM What the actual fuck, Kento

kento-bro 🥐 3:31 PM I did NOT tell him to pick you up. I explicitly told him that the idea was a terrible one and would likely end with me dead. You can imagine his reaction to that.

You could, and you tried not to glare at Gojo as he held the door to his car open for you. The vehicle interior is surprisingly spotless; with his lackadaisical attitude, you expected random junk stuffed into the center console, at the very least.

It also smells just like him, sending a traitorous tingle down your spine.

“Are you cold?” Gojo asks as he slides into the driver’s seat. “I can turn on the heat, if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

You shake your head, tucking a few lavender locks behind your ear. “I’m fine, just a random cold chill. I’m surprised you even both to drive.”

Gojo shrugs as he starts up the car. “No reason not to learn. I’m more than just my techniques, you know?”

It isn’t as if you only saw him as a sorcerer.

Based on the flood of pure heat that you nearly drown in as he shifts the car into reverse and immediately places his right hand on your headrest, looking over his shoulder to pull out of the parking spot, you see him as a red-blooded man just like any other.

And that is something you intend to keep to yourself.

“So, have you decided?” he asks conversationally. Your irritation with him clearly doesn’t matter in the slightest, which only makes you exhale slowly. Traffic is touch and go as you try to make it out of Shibuya, so might as well make the most of the drive.

“You didn’t trigger an asthma attack, and me nearly passing out was due to my own idiocy, so I guess I’ll settle for a bottle of a decent red blend,” you reply as you settle into the passenger seat. Chill EDM and instrumental music hums its way through the car’s speakers from whatever satellite radio station he’s tuned into, your finger absently tapping along with the beat against your thigh.

“Hmm.” You feel his gaze on you for the briefest moment as he continues to drive. “I think I can make that happen. Seems like a pretty lackluster request, considering I practically gave you a blank check.”

You roll your eyes. “What did you think I was going to ask for?”

“I don’t know. Something more exciting, like a date, or even a kiss.”

“Sure you aren’t projecting a bit?” You cock your head a bit as you look at him. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the shifter. Your brain tries to reconcile the tall, charming, sexy as fuck man sitting next to you with the arrogant, pain-in-the-ass sorcerer that grated your nerves like no other. You can’t say why he rubs you the wrong way; it could be his carefree attitude towards absolutely everything, or maybe his continuous assumption that he can charm the pants off you, literally and figuratively.

Either way, it boils down to the simple fact that you don’t trust if and when he’s ever being genuine with you, or anyone, really.

“Would it really be so bad for you to admit you find me attractive?” he wonders aloud.

“I have no problem admitting you’re attractive,” you reply with a half-sigh. “It’s honestly a little disorienting, but then you start talking and all the allure just gets sucked right out, like a nasty little vacuum.”

“Why are you and Nanamin so mean to me?” Gojo whines. He makes the turn onto the campus, easing his way towards the parking lot where you had left your bike the night before. “Here I am, just trying to be nice...”

He parks the car right next to your Triumph, turning to face you with a pout. You simply stare at him, trying to decide how to best to inform him that he once again lost his head in his own asshole.

“Maybe if you tried to just be sincere instead of nice, people would stop being so ‘mean’ to you,” you point out. He pushes his sunglasses up and into his hair, regarding you with somber blue eyes.

“Would that work on you?”

You can tell he’s asking you seriously. The pitch of his voice has dropped, abandoning the air of frivolity and slipping into a velvet soft baritone that sends warmth through your center. It’s a tone you haven’t heard from him before.

“Yes.” Your mouth is spitting words faster than you can censor them. “I’d trust you, at the very least.”

Gojo leans towards you, his expression painfully neutral. “That’s important to you, isn’t it? Trust.”

His proximity to you, speaking to you in that lower pitch… it makes your heart thunder in your chest. You know there’s absolutely no way Gojo can’t hear it—it’s practically pushing out of your chest. What had been basic attraction is suddenly inching its way out of that easy to manage category and into dangerous territory.

Your brain doesn’t get the memo.

“Yes, it is,” you reply, your voice barely a murmur. “When you get fucked over enough times, trust issues develop. A basic psychological fact, as far as I’m concerned.”

He turns this information over in his mind. You can see the thoughts sinking into the vault behind his eyes. Gojo can be a brat on a good day, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t brilliant or observant.

“Can I have your number?”

You blink, reeling from the whiplash of his question. You fully process the moment and realize his charmer’s grin and bubbly tenor are back. The moment of honesty is gone.

A scoff is forming in your mind when you catch Gojo’s eyes again. The dissonance between the honesty swimming in the azure blues of his eyes and the mask he’s presenting is so clear, it takes you a second to quell your retort and hold out your hand.

His mask softens just a fraction as he gives you his phone, but his eyes never waver. You only break the stare to glance at his phone while you enter in your number, calling your own phone to save his number before handing the device back.

You’re typing out his name when you see a text come through from that number.

Unknown Number 4:18 PM this is Satoru, fyi 🤗

The use of his name feels intentional. You focus your energy and let your aura slip along the edges of his, luring it out for you to see. It’s a halo of cerulean blue, humming softly to you.

Your fingers hover over your keyboard for a moment before you save the number under just Satoru.

“I’ll text you when your bottle of wine’s ready,” Gojo says brightly. “But you have to promise that you’ll follow the instructions I send, too.”

That sounds like a trap and you immediately narrow your eyes as you start to exit the car. He just drops his shades with a too-innocent smile. Bickering with him wouldn’t end up being productive, so you just shake your head.

“Thanks for the ride, Gojo.” You step out of the car and unlock your bike, the tiny bit of anxiety you have about leaving it unattended somewhere unfamiliar easing away as you zip up your leather jacket and pick up your helmet.

“Hey, teach.” You see that Gojo’s window has rolled down as you swing your leg over the bike. “Ride safe, alright? Let me know when you get home, too.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “What are you, my dad?”

His smile turns feline. “Why, feel like calling me ‘daddy?’”

Your eyes can’t roll harder than they do right then. Refusing to deign that with a response, you snap your visor shut and take off back towards your apartment in Yoyogi.

The moment he let you past his Infinity replays in your thoughts the entire ride home. The feel of his skin against yours felt so… nice. The internal cringe at the lackluster adjective is unavoidable. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve had sex, for fuck’s sake. Are you really that starved for attention that you’re willing to play with the giant bonfire of fuck-boy that is Gojo just to satisfy your curiosity — among other things?

You ease your bike into your garage and head back into your safe space. Shedding your jacket, you glance at your phone before you move into the kitchen to start dinner.

Satoru 4:53 PM what perfume do you wear??

Satoru 4:53 PM also, have you made it home yet??? 😰😰😰

Your brows knit at his first question as you pour yourself a glass of wine while last night’s takeout reheats.

You 5:09 PM Just got home. Why do you want to know about my perfume?

Satoru 5:10 PM whew, i was worried!!

Satoru 5:10 PM it smells lovely in my car, the same way you did when i carried you into your place last night. call me curious 🤔

Suspicious, that’s what you’d call him. You let the text sit while you stir your leftovers, distracted by the sense of a blush forming on your cheeks at the thought of him enjoying your perfume in his car as much as you enjoyed his scent.

“And those are the thoughts of a complete weirdo,” you mumble as you stick your leftovers into the microwave for another minute.

You 5:12 PM It’s called Wisteria Blue by Nest

Ordinarily, you’d have silenced your phone and left it somewhere beyond reach to completely disconnect while you unwind from the day. And ordinarily, you’d have your attention focused on some murder docuseries instead of thoroughly grading assignments.

Yet, your phone remains face up and on ringer as it stares at you from the coffee table. You’re half-paying attention to the new show on a crazy cult in the States during the 1980s while nibbling on leftover fried chicken and rice, your peripheral honed in on the screen of your phone and diverting your focus like a fucking teenager.

And, just like a teenager, your stomach flips when your phone chimes and lights up again.

Satoru 5:22 PM do you trust me now?

You 5:23 PM Not completely, no. but I am more inclined to try and trust you

You 5:23 PM Besides, not all of us have Infinity to ward off folks we don’t want hurting us

When he doesn’t immediately reply, you attempt to refocus on your dinner. It’s not like you think Satoru plans on hurting you; that moment in the car before you left gives you a tiny bit of peace of mind there. No, your reactions are purely automatic defense mechanisms, ingrained into you after years of gaslighting and emotional manipulation.

Nope, not going to think about all that. You turn up the television to drown out your own thoughts, just as your phone lights up again.

Satoru 5:31 PM got any good stories about nanamin? 😈

The cackle that bubbles up is pure petty bitch. Boy, oh boy, do you have stories? Since you steadfastly believe that the white-haired demon’s appearance in your life is all Kento’s fault, you feel absolutely no guilt in arming his friend with some solid ammunition.

You 5:33 PM Did you know that he’s terrified of moths? Not like, ew that’s gross, but little girl screaming terrified. He’s even had nightmares that they suck his face off if one lands on him

Satoru 5:35 PM you’re my new favorite person 🤣🤣

----

“It’s getting there, you just need to pay attention to your tempo, Ichigo.”

The third year frowns at her hands, as if their lagging is under someone else’s control. You smile at her, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” you tell her kindly. “It’s easy to get wrapped up in how your music makes you feel that you lose sight of little things like your speed or technique.”

“Does that happen to you, when you play, Ms. Nissen?”

An iron curtain drops on the memories of performing that her question pokes at. Instead, you just keep smiling, though it’s lost a little bit of its warmth.

“I don’t play too much anymore, but yes. If my heart is driving me to play, even I lose sight of my tempo,” you reply as you stand up from your perch by her keyboard station. You glance around the room, pleased to see that some of the girls have started to get a head start on cleaning the room after their check-in.

“Great job, all of you,” you say loudly over the low cacophony of music. “Don’t forget that your reports on your chosen pieces are due tomorrow at the start of class.”

With that, the girls go about their daily chore while you collect your things from the podium in the corner. As expected, you see that you have a string of messages from Satoru, which makes you smile a little, despite your best efforts.

Satoru 2:02 PM what made you want to be a music teacher?

Satoru 2:03 PM and why do you have sound proofing in your apartment?

Satoru 2:10 PM i’ve been to the states a few times. where did you live while you were there??

The last few days followed this pattern of intermittent texts from a perpetually curious Satoru, his questions rarely relating to each other as he fires them off during school hours. You understand his students’ dismissive attitude about his authority over them, especially if he’s on his phone most of the time.

You 3:11 PM I’m surprised you haven’t coerced Kento to tell you all of that 🙄

Your warning shot of the moth story did its job, bringing your cousin to his knees for forgiveness after Satoru released a few dozen moths in one of the classrooms while locking Kento inside. The pair of you reached a truce, agreeing to have dinner again this Saturday, without Satoru.

Satoru 3:12 PM he’s still not talking to me 😅

You 3:13 PM I always had a thing for music, since I was really little. My parents decided to capitalize on it and got me all kinds of private lessons… piano, cello, violin, voice, etc. When I decided to stop performing, I didn’t want to leave it totally behind, so I decided to teach.

Satoru 3:16 PM how did you avoid using your technique? it had to have shown up by then

You 3:17 PM Kento would teach me bits and pieces of jujutsu when I visited over the summers, but before he even started going to Jujutsu Tech, all my feelings and intentions were directed inward, rather than to my audience

You slip your phone into your backpack and put on your helmet. There is plenty about jujutsu that you don’t understand, and you wonder if anyone truly does, but you’re still grateful for Kento and Yaga. Without either of them, you’d have drowned in your own self-loathing.

It occurs to you that you haven’t seen Yaga in awhile, so you decide to pay your respects soon. Maybe he would have some tips on how to manage a certain snowy-topped idiot.

After locking up your bike, you drop your things on the couch and head straight upstairs to your bathroom. A hot shower sounds blissful, as opposed to finding out what other questions Satoru has in store for you.

The steaming spray soothes your tense shoulders as you consider the chessboard of conversation in your head. You’re used to answering personal questions with the bare minimum information needed, but Satoru isn’t your average pedestrian poking around. Besides, it doesn’t escape you that you’ve played the trust card, only to be a perfect hypocrite in terms of honesty.

You sigh as you work shampoo into your hair. The simplest solution is to acknowledge that there are things you aren’t ready to talk about, which is always so much easier said than done. A coil of anxiety tightens in your stomach but you dismiss it.

As you dry off, you make a mental note to dye your hair again soon. The color is fading a little too close to silver for your liking, and the last thing you need is for Satoru to start saying that you’re trying to steal his look.

Dressed in only boybriefs and an oversized sweater, you pad back down the stairs to fish your phone out of your backpack.

Satoru 3:29 PM what’s with the sound proofing then?

Satoru 3:43 PM did you die? do i need to come do a wellness check? 😱

You roll your eyes as you plop onto your sofa.

You 4:03 PM I didn’t die. I got home and showered, and didn’t feel like bringing my phone along

You 4:03 PM I put up the tiles to dampen any sounds I might accidentally make at home. Sometimes I start singing along to my Spotify, or hum while I bake. It’s just for my neighbors, really.

Checking work emails keeps you from watching his typing bubble from bouncing. There’s an upcoming faculty meeting that you pray has nothing to do with the school festival that’s coming up in a couple months. Last year, the girls in your class tried to convince you to perform in their faculty talent show — to the point that you had to dodge them in the halls in case they tried to use the power of their puppy-dog eyes.

Satoru 4:06 PM ooo… i bet you smell amazing. should have invited me to join 😏😏

You 4:06 PM Why’s that?

Satoru 4:07 PM i could have helped you wash up the hard to reach spots! instead, i’m just daydreaming about it instead of training the kids

You 4:08 PM Somehow I doubt me in the shower is what’s really preventing you from doing your job

Satoru 4:09 PM why are you so mean to me??? 😭

You 4:09 PM I’m not mean. I’m honest 😇

Satoru 4:10 PM i don’t believe you’re an angel for one second. no self-respecting angel rides around in tight pants and a leather jacket on a motorcycle, especially not one with a voice as pretty as yours

You 4:11 PM Please stop before you dig yourself into a deep chauvinistic hole that you have no hope of getting out of

Satoru 4:13 PM siiiiigh. fair point. so, where in the states did you live?

You 4:14 PM New York City. My dad works on Wall Street at an investment firm. Have you ever been?

Satoru 4:15 PM nah, i’ve only been to California and Hawaii. nyc seems cool though. did you like it?

You 4:15 PM I guess… I was a kid when I lived there. I moved to Japan when I was 15, so I think I missed out on all the really cool things that New York has to offer

Satoru 4:16 PM we should go together then!! you can show me around 🤗

The idea of playing tour guide to Satoru makes you smile but also makes you shudder. He strikes you as the kind of sucker who goes to all the tourist traps purely because that’s where everyone goes. Him in Times Square? Fuck that.

You 4:21 PM Hmm. I don’t come cheap, you know.

Satoru 4:22 PM name your price 😘

You 4:22 PM Do you always offer up blank checks to people you barely know?

Satoru 4:23 PM no, only the breathtakingly beautiful ones

You choke on rice, coughing roughly as you recoil from such a bold compliment.

You 4:26 PM Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you? How do I know that you aren’t just treating me like another conquest?

Satoru 4:29 PM who says you’re a conquest?

You 4:30 PM Don’t act like you don’t literally charm the pants off women whenever you feel the need. There’s no way a man like you doesn’t have a string of fuck-buddies

Satoru 4:31 PM i’m not, i’m asking why you think i see you as a conquest

Satoru 4:31 PM because if you were, i’d have already hit it and quit it

You honestly can’t decide if you’re flattered or more affronted at his honesty. To let yourself cool off, you finish up your dinner and go pour yourself the last of your favorite red blend.

It’s hard to disagree with his logic, the more you let it roll around in your head. You’re just as guilty of doing the same thing, when the dry spells go a little too long for your liking. And you’ve definitely gotten your share of lectures from Kento about being “so reckless” with strangers.

You 4:40 PM That’s fair. I apologize for making assumptions.

Satoru 4:43 PM wow, didn’t expect you to own up to that so quickly 😳

You 4:44 PM Why?

Satoru 4:44 PM getting nanamin to admit he’s wrong is like pulling teeth!!

You smile, knowing how utterly true that statement is.

You 4:46 PM Well, I’m not my cousin… besides, it’s wrong to shame someone for casually hooking up with people when I do the same thing. I’m not interested in being a hypocrite 💁🏻‍♀️

Satoru 4:48 PM glad i’m not flirting with nanamin. that’d be awkward 😳😳

Satoru 4:48 PM ughhh. gotta run and kill some curses.

Satoru 4:49 PM before i forget, your wine is ready! so be set for dinner at 7pm tomorrow night. dress to impress 😉

Beg your pardon? How did getting a nice bottle of wine turn into a dinner date?

You 4:50 PM What the fuck? Can’t you just give me a bottle of wine, like a normal person?

He doesn’t respond, likely because he’s actually doing work, for once. You glare at your phone for another minute before you drain the last of your wine and start updating grades to keep yourself from texting a string of extremely rude curses to the subject of your ire.

It doesn’t escape your notice how he conveniently had to disappear and exorcise curses after dropping that bomb on you, either.

Huffing, you stomp upstairs and into your bedroom. Because, despite it all, you refuse to show up to dinner looking anything less than your best. As the thought settles, a little grin lifts the corners of your lips while you open your walk-in closet and survey the options.

“Time to fight fire with fire.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #gojo x oc #gojo satoru #oc #nanami kento #flirting #gojo loves emojis #also on ao3 #ao3

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