#SECOND time in THREE hours u gotta be KIDDING me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

criceofpain · 2 years ago

Text

switch it up | park jongseong (reposted and edited)

featuring: enhypen's jake, heeseung, sunghoon, sunoo, and jungwon; stayc's yoon

synopsis: after you find your ex cheating with another guy, the quiet kid takes the opportunity to get closer to you. but the shocking part is, you never knew he could do a full 180 and be the most charming guy you've ever seen.

pairing: student!jay x student fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff, a tinge of angst (and humor lol)

word count: 7418

warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), slut-shaming, usage of pet names, vaginal penetration, alcohol consumption, gamer rage (especially heeseung lol), male masturbation, degradation, fellatio, minimal impact play, implied violence, two-timing, cheating, jakehoon are gay, jay has too much porn vids on his laptop, yoon has warfreak tendencies, too much tekken references, too much time skips

Being popular in school had its own perks.

If people were asked what they’d do if they became the most popular person in year two for twenty-four hours, you’d get a vast range of answers from all of them. Fame, beauty, authority, and money–the possibilities are endless for a household name in one of the most prestigious universities in Seoul. The thing is, though, downsides will always be inevitable.

Thursday’s a typical work day for the student council’s president–you. A ton of paper stacks were waiting to be scanned and submitted to the council adviser, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and actually work on them. The adviser’s office was two buildings away from your location, and God, did you dread walking. Worse, you had to do it every week and without the help of your vice president. Bothering to find him would be a waste of time, either.

The sudden ring of your phone disrupts your train of thought, making you look up to check whoever was trying to test your patience at this hour. Jakey ♡, your phone screen reads. You heave a relieved sigh; it’s been three days since your boyfriend last called and it was messing with your momentum. Even overthinking was a waste of time and you hated it.

“Hi, love.” you mumbled, voice laced with exhaustion. “I'm glad you finally called.”

“Love, can we cancel our date?” Jake asks from the other line, and your face immediately contorts to a disappointed scowl.

Strange. He’s usually not the type to postpone plans at the last minute because he knew you despised that type of feat. As the student council president, the last thing you'd want is for someone to waste your valuable time.

“Suddenly?” you deadpan as you put your pen down and slowly spin in the swivel chair you sat on. “We’ve got everything planned out and now you wanna cancel?”

Jake sighs. “Coach called us for training. He’s been lenient on me for the past week, I can't afford another absence.”

“Oh.” you utter, at loss for words. “Long day ahead, huh?”

It was what you least expected, anyways. You stay still in your seat, disappointment filling your chest. You start to feel uneasy—you knew you’d never stand a chance against his monster of a coach. What can I do? Jake was the team’s striker which gained him maximum importance. Without him, the team would basically be a chaotic bunch.

“Sorry.” he mutters apologetically. “I didn't want this to happen, really.”

“I know, I know.” you grumble, picking your pen back up and fixing your attention back to the papers you were reviewing. “Can I come after training, though? We should at least eat, like, ramyeon, tteokbokki or something."

A few seconds of silence fills the other line before Jake replies, "God, that sounds—fuck. That's irresistible. I hope Coach lets me off ‘cause his diet plan is seriously killing me.”

“I sure hope he does,” you roll your eyes as the image of a conceited middle-aged man with his stomach overflowing his pants. “unless he wants a big ‘fuck you’ from me for tiring you out. You gotta rest, love.”

He chuckles, causing a grin to tug your lips. “I love you. I know you’re a busy woman and you’ve probably got a lot on your plate right now. I'll hang up now, hmm?”

Your reply gets cut off by the sudden drop of the call, and another sigh leaves your mouth.

Popularity was so exhausting for you. However, not everyone suffers from the syndrome; take Park Jongseong–who goes by “Jay” in school–as an example. The lad has finally gotten a taste of rest after coding what felt like a thousand HTMLs, now nibbling on a cob of corn with his other hand glued to his keyboard.

Why had I never thought of playing Tekken as a way of escaping the hell of school and the sight of students’ thirst for crowd validation before? As he fervently taps the keys of his laptop, the corner of his lip tugs into a slight smirk. He continuously lands hits on a random Kazuya he was matched with, not letting them rest as he uses his trump card–Jin Kazama’s ten-hit combo.

The silence breaks as Jay’s hearty laughter booms in the computer club room. He sighed triumphantly, propping his head on his intertwined hands.

"I gotta tell Heeseung hyung about this.” Jay snickers, grabbing his phone from beside his laptop and speed dialing the number “5”. After a few rings, his friend finally picks up. “Ay, hyung! I got good news for you.”

“Man, fuck you!” Heeseung, the student council’s vice president hisses from the other line, annoyance evident in his voice. Before the younger can ask about why he had such a tone, the older interrupts, “You’re never gonna let me live, are you?”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out, hyung.” Jay chuckles in confusion. “It’s not like I’m gonna use the ten-hit combo on you, is it? What’s the matter?”

Heeseung clicks his tongue and scoffs, “Don’t you see what’s happened or are you playing dumb right now, Jongseong? Fucking look at your screen.”

Jay, although confused, obliges anyway. He looks back at his laptop screen with the rematch menu on display. After a good few seconds, he spots the username of his opponent and immediately gasps, loud enough for his friend to hear. He then breaks into laughter, this time louder and more provoking as he hears the bantering on his ear.

“What—don’t tell me you had no idea—Jay!” the owner of the username heeba_inu_1015 yelled, followed by a frustrated shout.

“Whoops, should’ve gone easy on you, then.” Jay teases, shrugging his shoulders. “No, seriously. I had no idea. This is what school frustration makes me do.”

“Well, at least you’re not the student council’s vice president.”

Jay snorts in disbelief. “Come on, it’s not that hard–” he cuts himself off. “Oh, you’ve got a point, though.”

Jay didn’t necessarily live in the shadows; he just didn’t like being the center of attention. Being an eye candy is the last thing he wanted. Sure, he’s got what it takes to be popular–he’s a CEO's son, filthy rich, and on the honor roll. His friends say he’s got some sick visuals, too. Despite all these, he’d prefer to just blend in with the crowd and not stand out as a resident introvert (not to be confused with being a pick-me boy; Papa Park raised him with manners).

“Still, fuck you.” Heeseung lets out his third scoff of the day. A female voice rambles in the background, on the verge of screaming as the vice president grumbles in dismay. Jay assumes it was the school council’s president calling him out for slacking. “I gotta go, though. Godzilla’s on the run and she’s unstoppable–hey, wait!”

Beep. The call ends, and Jay's me time continues. A chuckle leaves his mouth. That was the president? She’s unhinged as hell.

“What’s the president like?” he mumbles, putting his headphones back on and getting ready to start a new game. “I’d like to meet her.”

“Lee Heeseung, I’m giving you ten seconds to explain to me why you’re on Tekken when you’re supposed to be on duty.”

If looks could kill, your vice president could’ve died a slow, painful death by now. You try your best to keep your calm composure in front of your right-hand man while trying to suppress your anger, but the urge to lash out on him is just getting stronger. Heeseung, feeling intimidated, could only look down on the ground as he hears a disappointed sigh from you.

Fortunately, the school council’s secretary, Yang Jungwon, has informed you of the vice president’s whereabouts. You made sure to leave your pending tasks untouched before storming out of the council office and to the stockroom, where he was apparently taking his sweet time being a heavy load.

“Look, I’ve just finished my last game, Y/N, alright?” Heeseung raises his hands in defeat. “I’m done. I’ll go and help.”

“Oh, you are definitely gonna go help Jungwon in the council’s office because I’m out of here.” you snap, unplugging the Ethernet wire connected to his gaming laptop. “There are waivers waiting for you. Get your ass up.”

“Alright.” he mutters, head hung low as he switches off his laptop. “I’m sorry.”

Without another word, you turn your back on him and walk out of the suffocating stockroom. How does he even stand the heat in there? Your steps get quicker as much as the psychological warfare you were having with yourself is getting worse. People are probably looking at me right now and think, why the hell is her face so sour? They wouldn’t know. They’re not the overworked, unpaid, “popular” student council president with a freeloader of a vice president and a midfielder boyfriend who’s just as popular.

You’ve been zoned out for the entirety of your trip back to the council office, but the sight of a familiar shoe sticking from one of the corridor posts shakes you awake. Your eyebrows furrow, wondering what would someone with skate shoes be doing in that spot at this hour when it’s inter-school olympics season. You take another set of steps before seeing a man’s back view with the jersey number 5 on it, and the scene that unfolds in front of you shakes your whole world.

Your boyfriend and the school’s most famous figure skater, Park Sunghoon, were kissing.

It has been a week since you found out that Sim Jaeyun was cheating on you and is gay.

You remember being rooted in your spot as you saw them eating each other’s faces. Screaming at them would be a waste of time. You feared wasting time the most, and crying in front of someone came in second. Instead of doing what someone normally does in these situations–screaming and bawling their eyes out, you land a slap on each of their faces with a shit-eating grin on your face before running to the nearest comfort room to cry.

You wouldn’t mind your boyfriend coming out of the closet and ending your relationship in good terms, but the fact that he’d been flirting–and probably fucking–around with a guy behind your back infuriated you.

You didn’t know how it came to this—you crying your heart out inside the club office as Heeseung finally took over and finished the rest of your work due to you not being able to properly open your swollen eyes. Even moving around was a pain in the ass. Jungwon works from the sidelines as well, and both of them didn’t dare speak a word to you unless spoken to. They knew better than to mess with a girl who’s got cheated on.

“Cabining trip’s tomorrow. You still going, noona?” Jungwon asks, eyes glued to his laptop screen as he types the minutes of the meeting for the past week. “We need you over there, Pres.”

“Hmm.” you reply, not having the energy to speak out a proper word as you blew your nose on a paper towel. Of course I’ll be there. What am I, a ghoster?

As Jungwon bombards you with questions, your replies are short and reserved, along the lines of “yeah”, “uh-huh”, and the like. How were you supposed to show yourself without shame knowing that your ex wasn’t into you anymore?

“Heeseung.” you croak out, getting a short “huh” as a response. “I need your help with something.”

“What’s it about, miss ma'am?”

You cringe at the nickname, throwing the empty box of paper towels along his way. “If you use that nickname on me again, I swear.” you hiss.

“Damn, calm down, will you?” Heeseung chuckles, barely dodging the box that almost hit his face. “What is it?”

You saunter your way towards the table where the two lads worked. propping your hands on the desk, You then look over at Jungwon who has his whole attention on his laptop, not bothering to pop into the conversation or listen to whatever you were about to say.

“You’re best friends with the adviser, right?” you whisper to Heeseung, to which he nods. “And I’m not. Wow. What am I president for, then?

“Touche.” he shrugs. “What about him?”

“This could be fucked up but,” you lean in to whisper on his ear. “Can you beg him to sneak drinks for the adults?”

Your eyes screw shut in embarrassment, in disbelief of the words that just came out of your mouth. You’re better than this, Y/N.

“Yes.” Heeseung lets out a dramatic gasp, nodding vigorously at your idea. “You had me at ‘drinks’, Y/N, come on. Spill!”

“Noona, you’re kidding, right? Why would you sneak drinks in–”

“Quiet, kid.” you cut Jungwon off. “I’ve got a breakup to get over. Let the adults have this.”

With that, Heeseung let out a dramatic gasp, nodding vigorously at your idea.

The day of the cabining trip has come, and it wasn’t the most enjoyable day for the student council so far. While the other kids were having the time of their lives, talking with their friends and not worrying about keeping the lines straight and the cabins quiet, you struggled to keep the students in order as you tapped the backs of those who made a commotion, or worse, those who made out in broad daylight.

To your relief, Heeseung was in charge of bag inspection, which meant drinks were allowed (unless one was not of legal age, of course). The students will just have to hide it from the other supervisors. Jungwon, along with the student council’s treasurer, Sunoo, were on room assignment duty, making sure to separate the guys and girls from each other. Getting pregnant on a school trip is the last thing anyone would want.

Meanwhile, Jay stands quietly as the line advances. He wasn’t really supposed to be going on this trip if it weren’t for his father insisting him to do so. Luckily, with Heeseung’s permission, he was allowed to bring his gaming laptop without you knowing. The vice president just hopes he wouldn’t get pulled by the ear again.

“God, I hope I get the top bunk.” Jay mutters, putting his bag on the desk for inspection.

“Gotta go fast, then.” Heeseung replied, probing the contents of his friend’s bag. He taps Jay’s shoulders after he’s done. “Man, I hope we’re roommates.”

“Heeseung, how's the inspection going?” you bellow over the crowd of students, craning your head to look for him.

As you and Heeseung scream at each other over the loud sounds in the cabins, Jay couldn’t help but steal glances at you. He did pass by you sometimes, but he hasn't really gotten the chance to step up and talk to you. What a waste. After news has spread that you got cheated on, he could imagine himself tackling you into a hug and giving you small forehead kisses in hopes to ease your pain. He had set his eyes on you ever since you were appointed as president, and he found you so pretty ever since. He just secretly hoped that Jake wouldn’t go begging for you to come back, or else he’d lose his mind.

His daydreaming stops when he bumped shoulders with someone whom he least expected–you. The two of you momentarily met each other’s eyes, and Jay swore he’d melt then and there if it weren’t for you turning away almost immediately. On the other hand, you wonder why he’s been stuck on his spot for a good minute, so you approach him cautiously.

“Uh, are you lost, perhaps?” you wave a hand in front of Jay’s face. “You seem to be spacing out, Jay.”

She knows me. Oh, my God, she just acknowledged me. His heart somersaults in his chest at the mention of his name. It rolled off of your mouth perfectly.

It takes him five seconds to answer, “I’m good, thank you.”

You smile briefly at him, and he flashes one back. He walks silently, trying to suppress a shout from coming out of his mouth. You were always pretty to him, and that smile was the cherry on top.

The first day of the retreat wasn’t really hectic, except for the fact that all of the students have to run ten laps all around the yard before they can even have a taste of breakfast. Despite the supervisors lurking around the whole site, you’ve taken brave sips on your bottle of soju, disguised as drinking water. You couldn’t help but see Jake and his new lover every time you had to lead a segment and meet face to face with everyone, and your chest would always clench. How the fuck is he so happy without me? If it weren’t for the other officers beside you, you would’ve wrestled Sunghoon without a doubt.

The second and third days would probably be the most boring of them all, but not for Jay.

His laptop keeps him company as he silently jerks off to porn videos, trying his best to stifle a groan to not wake up whoever was occupying the top bunk. He would’ve brought a fleshlight, too, but he figured it’d be too much for a school retreat. So he resorts to another option–a sock.

He finishes without suspicion, and gets knocked out to sleep right after.

On the other side of the site, you sit awake in your bunk, finishing the last of the soju you’ve successfully hidden for days. You sigh, not feeling any signs of drowsiness as you stare in spaces. I should've seen this coming. You wanted to slap yourself for being so clueless. Hasn’t it come to you that Jake might be using soccer training as an excuse to meet up with Sunghoon instead of you?

“Y/N, you dumb bitch.” you spit out, grabbing your phone to dial Heeseung’s number.

After a few rings, he picks up. “What the fuck, Y/N, it’s 3 in the morning.” the lad grumbled as he tossed and turned in his bed. “You better give me a good reason for calling at this hour.”

“You got a laptop with you?” you ask. What a stupid question. “It's urgent business.”

“No, I don't, dummy.” he snaps, and his sudden change of tone takes you aback. “I thought you knew we can only bring phones.”

You sigh. Out of all times your council adviser demanded an accomplishment report from you, why now? At that moment, you even wished to switch bodies with Heeseung; he was the adviser’s best friend and not you. Despite you telling your superior that you haven’t brought your laptop, he didn't budge, even bringing up the drink-sneaking incident.

To say you were doomed would be an understatement.

“Why does your best friend put me in situations like this?” you whine, pulling your hair in frustration. “He knows I don't have my laptop at the moment! Tell me, does he have something against me? ‘Cause he better settle things with me. Damn it. Do you get me? Sometimes I just want to walk out on all of you because I’ve got the whole council on my back! i’m a human who has limits, too, for fuck’s sake! When do I quit? I can quit anytime and turn my back on this responsibility. You take over once this term ends–”

“Shut up. I'm at your door.”

You hitch a breath, hang up and climb out of your bunk. You silently open the door to see your vice president holding an open laptop in his hand, phone on the other. The lad passes the device on to you, praying that his friend doesn’t notice his laptop out of place when he wakes up.

“Hey, that ain’t mine, though. Be careful with that.” he says, and you scowl in suspicion.

“Thanks,” you smile slightly. “Though I thought I told you not to bring gadgets in the cabin–”

“Don’t ask, just…” he waves his hands frantically, avoiding the question. “I’ll get going.”

“Okay…?” your voice trails off, and you shoo Heeseung away. “You’re a lifesaver, by the way.”

Heeseung nods, jogging his way out as you close your cabin door. You didn’t bother to wonder whose laptop this was; the only thing in your mind was the report you had to finish.

In silence, you immediately get to work. With sips of water from time to time, you struggle to keep yourself awake as you type the needed information, word by word, making sure that it would be slap-worthy on your adviser’s face.

After two hours of staring and typing, you feel your eyes giving out and fingers straining as you move the document file to your flash drive, finally finishing your work.

“This motherfucker better not scold me tomorrow.” you mutter through clenched jaws, carefully ejecting the drive from God-knows-whose laptop.

With slow hands, you close all of the windows you have used, even the tabs, making it look untouched as this was neither your laptop, nor Heeseung's. Whose is this, then? There wasn't a wallpaper in it, just the default one, and that made guessing a waste of time. Nonetheless, you make a mental note to thank the owner first thing in the morning for saving your desperate ass in such a critical situation.

Before you can shut down the device, a particular folder on the desktop screen catches your attention, especially its name,

“Things I want to do to Y/N”

You squint in surprise, mouse cursor hovering over the folder. As much as you wanted to pry it open, you wanted to respect the privacy of the owner of the laptop, whoever they were. But this has my name on it. You shake your head, preparing for the worst to happen as you double-click on the folder. What you see next shocks you utterly, making your heartbeat rise as you check the name of the owner.

The laptop belongs to a Park Jongseong, with the folder containing porn videos.

In astonishment, you close the laptop with a loud thud, not bothering to shut it down properly or close the porn folder before you do. A series of knocks makes you jump and hit your head on the top bunk.

“Go to sleep, Y/N!” your bunkmate from the top grumbles.

What the fuck is going on? You sigh, wrapping yourself in a cocoon with your blanket.

It's the last day of the retreat, which means free time for all the students until the morning comes with no schedules to stick to. However, you were far from relaxed as last night’s events haven't left your mind until now. You didn’t know what to feel knowing that the quiet kid has been fantasizing about you, and in secret. Do you get mad, grossed out or flattered? Neither of them felt right and it messed up with your head so much. Worrying about it would be a waste of time.

Heeseung couldn’t help but notice you staring at Jay, who played basketball by himself from afar. You spaced out often, too, and it was so not like you to do so. Apparently, your efforts on acting normal outside while being a chaotic mess inside fail as you finally draw out a frustrated groan.

“Something wrong?” Heeseung asks. “You're zoned out pretty bad.”

“That report sucked the life out of me.” you reply monotonously, standing up from your seat, eyes not leaving Jay. “I'll meet you at the bonfire. I just need sleep.”

“Fine. I'll take over for you.”

You nod, trudging to your cabin in hopes to get some rest. However, once your body dips down the mattress, images of Jay hovering over you appear as you close your eyes. Shaking it off, you push a pillow against your face, muffling out a scream of annoyance.

On the other hand, Jay has been stealing glances from you as well, completely unaware of you seeing the deepest, darkest secrets he's kept hidden in his laptop.

After what felt like days of slumber, you were awakened by the noise of students outside of the cabins. hollers and shouts fill your ears as you get yourself out of bed. As much as you hated being woken up in such a manner, you were happy to be able to get a wink of sleep.

“Evening, Y/N.”

You look up from the ground, seeing the person whom you unfortunately wanted to avoid the most. Jay wore a small smile on his face, which was seen clearer without his glasses. Contrary to his usual hoodie-slacks combo, he wore a shirt that snugly fit him, in which you can definitely see the slight curvature of his chest. His toned arms were on full display, too, and you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d flex under your touch. His thighs looked just as attractive, given the fact that he wore cargo shorts.

“Good… evening, Jay.” you chuckle awkwardly. “What's the matter? Can I help you?” Why does he look so different? He even wore his hair differently.

“Nothing much.” he replies sheepishly. “Just, uh, wanted to have a casual talk with the president.” God, that bedhead. Why does it make her more fuckable? He steals glances at the skimpy top that hugged your body, accentuating your curves and your plump breasts.

“Really?” you grin in amusement, not expecting his statement. Just say you wanna fuck and go. “That's strange. No one comes up to me unless it’s about school.”

“That'd be an honor.” he comments, gaze not shifting away from you.“Would having small talk with me waste your time?”

You hesitantly shake your head, and he smiles. Fuck, that smile. Where is this going to get me now?

The two of you proceed to have a conversation outside the cabin, at the same time, thinking of lewd thoughts that were probably too inappropriate, given the setting. From time to time, your hands would brush each other’s, increasing the tension between the two of you.

Despite this, Jay would get distracted, finding your giggles so adorable, especially knowing that he was the reason behind them. You admired how Jay speaks, and how cautious he was when you ranted about your ex. He just hoped no one would call you out and separate the both of you.

Or so he thought.

The whistle trills fills your ears as rain falls angrily on your skin. Whines and grumbles were heard as the bonfire session was declared canceled by Sunoo and Jungwon. Students start sprinting back to their cabins as the rain pours, including the supervisors. No more confession time and roasted marshmallows, I guess.

You look over to see your cabin that was several meters from where you and Jay stood, attempting to make a run for it. However, Jay gets a hold of your wrist before you can take your first step.

“Stay.” his voice is deep and alluring, and you could feel your body slightly shiver.

“You sure?” you raise your brows anyway, not bothering to pull away from his grip. “What if someone sees us drenched in here? Are you willing to vouch for me?”

“You're the president. I'm sure no one would budge.”

You don't protest. Instead, you take the opportunity to ask him about the folder in his laptop, which, by the way, he still assumes was untouched. He, meanwhile, couldn’t take his eyes off of the top that clung to your skin, against your stomach. You pretty much were doing the same as you eyed his abs through his shirt.

After what felt like ten minutes of standing under the rain, both of you were drenched as you walked into an empty cabin for protection that no one used due to faulty electricity. You sit side by side in a single bed, neither of you having the guts to start another conversation.

Maybe it was time for you to spill your secrets.

“I like you.”

“Fuck me.”

The two of you look at each other after speaking at the same time. Your remark especially shocks Jay, so does the way you weren’t fazed with his confession just now. A hand instinctively goes up to cup your mouth. Shit, was I not subtle enough? You fake a hearty chuckle (which was actually a nervous one) as you see his perplexed expression.

“You don’t wanna fuck me?” you mutter, confidence leaving your system as his expression remains unchanged.

“No–I mean, yes.” he immediately replies, afraid that you might take it as him rejecting you. “Of course, I do.”

“Do it, then.”

You tower over his sitting figure, propping your hands on his chest. Jay couldn’t help but close his eyes, asking himself whether this was a dream or not. Your touch trails up to his neck, your fingertips tracing his collarbones. You catch his lips into a sloppy kiss, which he returns fervently as he slips his tongue on your mouth. The cold sensation brought by the raindrops on your skin is now gone as he pulls you into his lap and wraps your legs around his waist. For a minute, he savors your lips as his hands find their way to the hem of your top, feeling a little hesitant.

He pulls off, staring into your eyes as he searches for a sign of fear in your face. “Should I?”

Without a word, you nod, guiding his hands into taking off your top. His eyes roam along your torso, your breasts wanting to be freed from their restraints as they were practically coming out of your tight bra. His cock twitches and slightly hardens at the sight.

“Jay…” you whine, digging your ass against his hardness. A groan leaves his mouth. “I want you to take over.”

With that, he flips the two of you over, with you beneath him. He then pins your hands above your head, asserting his dominance. You hitch a breath as you feel his clothed cock rub against your crotch, still not believing his change in character.

“Is this really the quiet kid I knew?” you tease, making Jay yank your bottoms down, leaving you in your bra. He then lands a stinging spank on your ass cheek, squeezing the soft flesh after.

“Shush, Y/N, unless you want me to leave you hanging.”

Damn, even his voice can make me cum at this point. you feel him spreading your legs slowly, dipping a finger on your damp pussy as he kisses your inner thighs. You reach for his hair and stroke it gently as his lips get closer to where you needed him the most, your other hand squeezing your breast.

he licked a warm strip along your clit, eliciting a whimper from you. He held you by the knees to keep you from pressing your thighs together as he ate you out. his moans against your sex provided vibrations that made your toes curl, and moans louder.

“So miss president loves being eaten out, huh?” Jay chuckles, his ego growing as you reply to him with a broken mewl, pushing two of his fingers inside you. “Such a needy slut.”

He proceeds with his ministrations as he leaves marks on your thigh, torso, then up to your breasts, avoiding your neck to not cause suspicion. The way your walls tightened around his fingers made his cock harden even more. even until now, you couldn’t believe the situation you were in–being fucked by the resident introvert who was secretly a freak in bed.

Your grip on his hair tightens as you feel your high nearing. “Jay, I'm cumming!” you cry out desperately.

Hearing that, Jay pulls his fingers out of you, and licks them with a smirk on his lips. “You taste so sweet… however, I can’t just have you cumming somewhere that’s not on my cock, can I?”

He takes off his drenched top, and the rest of his clothes follow, freeing his erect cock from its confines. He drags his tip against your clit, teasing your entrance and holding your hips tight to stop you from pushing him in.

“Jay, please…” you beg, voice laced with frustration. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Is that so?” Jay snickers, slapping your thigh. “Little miss slutty president wants to suck me off?”

“Mm-mm.” you nod, eyeing his cock and the pre-cum that leaked from his tip. “fuck my mouth, just like how you want it.”

Just like how I want it? he stops in his tracks as he sees you grinning from beneath him. It was finally time for you to confess.

“Sir,” you whined, the pet name causing Jay to let out an audible groan. “I gotta tell you something.”

You sit up and bend over in front of him, his cock on your face and your ass up. He lets out a small gasp as your tongue teases his tip. The way you made eye contact with him didn’t help him, either. He bunches your hair up in a ponytail, wrapping it all around his knuckles as you sucked him like a popsicle.

“Tell me, baby,” he sighs, looking down at you in amusement.

“I needed a laptop for my report.” you lick him from base to tip. “And Heeseung, the vice president, borrowed yours for me.”

The way your tongue moves all over him sends shivers all over his body, and he makes the impulsive decision to rub his cock all over your face. “Baby saw my porn stash, didn’t she?” he chuckles, pushing himself deeper in your throat. You try to stop yourself from gagging as he fucks your mouth. “Fuck, yes. Those were all meant for you. All the things I wanna do to that body.”

You moan against his cock, reaching for your clit to rub yourself. you expected a different reaction from him, but by the looks of it, the Jay you passed by along the corridors was now gone. In front of you is a different person, and you actually loved it. You loved this new side of him.

“This is one of them.” Jay adds. “Fucking your mouth.”

You feel your head being guided by his hands as he nears his orgasm, thrusting faster inside your mouth. you whimper as his tip hits your throat, waiting for his warm release to fill your mouth.

However, he pulls out again, much to your dismay. He gets out of the bed and walks to the other side where he can take you from behind. Coincidentally, there stood a mirror in front of you, and you could clearly see his naked body as you were on your hands and knees. Fuck, I bet he works out a lot. He spanks your ass cheeks again, making you yelp.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, miss president.” Jay says under his breath, lining his tip on your cunt and getting ready to push himself inside of you. “I don’t have a condom with me, though.”

“I'm on the pill.” you reply. You realized you haven’t gotten rid of your habit of taking birth control pills even though you didn’t have sex as much anymore, especially now that you’re not with Jake anymore. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“Which is?”

You heave a deep sigh before speaking. I'll have to do this once and for all. “Help me forget about Jake.”

Without a word, he pushes himself slowly inside you. A gasp leaves your mouth at how big and girthy he was as he stretched your walls. It took you a while to adjust to his size, but after he has sunken his whole length in you, he starts moving.

I'll help you forget about Jake, sweetheart. “My love… tell me.” he drags a fingertip along your spine, rocking his hips at a steady pace. “Who's making you feel good right now?”

“You, Jay.” you reply, almost sounding like a scream as you do. “Your cock feels so good inside me.”

“Fuck, yeah, I am.” jay snickers, pulling you by the hair and making you look at your fucked-out reflection in the mirror. “Look at you. Such a cock-hungry bitch.”

God, you hated being degraded, but why did Jay's words turn you on?

Jay's pace gradually goes faster as he feels you tightening around him, his muscles flexing as his skin slaps against yours.

“That fucking soccer boy can never fuck you as good as I do, right?”

“Ah, yes!” you whimper as his finger reaches your clit.

He groans. “Repeat after me, darling. Cheaters.”

“Cheaters–ah!” you squeal as Jay spanks your ass again.

“Ain’t.” Jay seethed.

“Ain't…” you draw out a whine as he holds you by the waist.

“Shit.” he pulls you to sit up, slapping your breasts.

“Shit! Oh, that feels good.” you bury your head in the bed.

“See? That fucker doesn’t deserve you.” he whispered against your neck, leaving a dark mark by sucking on it. “He can go get some dick by himself ‘cause from now on, you’re mine.”

As his hands make their way back to your breasts, you feel like putty under Jay's touch. You couldn’t help but agree to his every word as if he’s put you in a state of hypnosis. Your words are incomprehensible as he snaps his hips harshly against yours, the feeling of his cock inside you clouding your vision and thoughts.

“I said you’re mine, little slut.”

“I'm yours.” you breathe out.

Once he has been given the go signal, he slows down for a bit and turns your head so you can see each other’s gazes. “If you'd let me take care of you, I'd do it wholeheartedly.” he said, kissing your knuckles lovingly. “I don't care how slow you want the process to be, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

You don’t say a word. Instead, you lock his lips in a loving kiss. He holds onto your waist for dear life as your hips move in sync, the heated moment turning into a passionate, affectionate one.

“You close?” Jay mumbles against your lips, and you nod.

You stay still in that position as Jay picks up his pace, letting you feel his warmth as he brings you to your high.

Your climax crashes like waves, and it seems like momentarily taking the life out of you. Jay follows suit, his seed spilling inside of you.

After a good minute, he pulls out of you, lays you down on the mattress and hovers above you. you cup his cheeks and give him a peck on the forehead, the introvert in him slowly coming back as he blushes at your action.

“Let me clean you up.” Jay says with a slight pout, the dominant in him finally out of the picture as he spoke.

“Can we do that later?” you reply, planting a kiss on his nose. “Let me hold you for a while.”

He doesn’t oblige. Rather, he picks up his drenched shorts from the floor, pulling a small handkerchief from its pocket. As he proceeds cleaning you up, you stare at him fondly. Were you in love? Not yet. Would you give him a shot? Definitely. The way he just switched up on you would need some processing time, though. It was one heck of a moment.

The night ends with Jay sending you off to your cabin, kissing you good night as he promises to meet you in school after the weekend.

You slowly stroll along the corridors of the art department building, looking for Jay's room as you go. You have been walking for thirty minutes straight, but without an ounce of exhaustion in your body although it was a Thursday–a work day for the student council president. To say that you were excited to meet him would be an understatement.

It’s been a week since the last day of the cabin trip and your first sexual encounter with someone who wasn’t Jake. You’ve been feeling a lot better, and it made Heeseung and Jungwon wonder how you’ve done it so fast. Jay’s been sending you food over the weekend and it stunned you how well he cooks. He’s been dropping over to the student council adviser’s office from time to time, too, just to watch you work.

You feel your feet starting to hurt, but you keep on walking anyway. I need to see my Jay after a long dayyyyy.

“There she is!” a voice starts shouting, causing you to stop on your tracks. “The prim and proper student council president.”

You squint your eyes at the person who turned out to be Sim Jayoon, Jake's cousin. She eyes you with a scowl as if scrutinizing you, and retches as if she was grossed out. You knew exactly what she came at you for–to act as a proxy for her wimpy cousin who hasn’t shown his face in the soccer team ever since. She has the reputation of being the worst pick-me in all of tenth grade, and that makes this encounter worse.

“You rang, Yoon?” you reply, faking a cheerful tone as you try your best not to pounce at the poor girl. “Do you need help with something?”

“Weren’t you crying over Jake oppa just last week?” Yoon spits out, towering over you to assert dominance. “Now you’re fucking with another guy? Seriously, sunbaenim, how much of a slut can you be?”

Does she expect me to cry and beg her to keep my dirty little secret? You snort. “Babe, your Jake oppa two-timed me with Park Sunghoon while I was on duty. That makes your cousin the slut here, doesn’t it?”

“And I did what I could do best–moving on.” you add, pissing Yoon off even more. Her face reddens in anger, and you taunt her, patting her head. “Aww, look at you. Aren’t you such a good guard dog for not admitting that your cousin made mistakes?”

“Shut up!” she yells defensively, stepping away from you. “You’re the president and you’re supposed to be the role model, right? You should step down if you tolerate double-dipping! bitch!”

With that, Yoon raises a hand to land a slap on your face, and you grimace, expecting the sting to land on your cheek. However, three seconds in and nothing hits you.

Turns out, a hand blocked Yoon’s arm and stopped her from slapping you. You look over your shoulder to see Jay with his usual meh expression plastered on his face. He raises his brows at Yoon, evidently annoyed by her words.

“At least she’s getting better sex than your cousin does.” he quips, throwing Yoon’s wrist to the ground.

You gasp at Jay’s choice of words. “Jay! Language!”

“What? It's the truth.” he replies, holding up a cube in his hand which happened to be a mini-recorder. “You want me to call your parents or something?”

In defeat, Yoon screams, stomping her way out of the corridors. You hear a deep chuckle from Jay behind you, and you instinctively land a slap on his chest. “You didn’t just say that in front of a fifteen-year old kid.”

“What was I supposed to do? She’s just called you slut and a bitch.” Jay shrugged, and you could only shake your head at him. He leans closer to your ear and whispers, “You’re my bitch, though.”

You roll your eyes, unable to protest “Jay, as much as I appreciate the degradation–”

“Meet me after your last period. I promise I won’t ditch you.” he grins, giving your lips a brief peck. “I’m off to the e-sports club office and nope, Heeseung hyung won’t be playing with me this time.”

“Thanks for the assurance..?” you say hesitantly, followed by a chuckle. He’s back at it again with the random updates. “Show them what you got, gamer boy.”

He pecks your lips again, and starts walking away with his back facing you. You could only look at him in awe as he leisurely walked the corridor with his headphones on and probably a One Ok Rock song blasting from them. He was your definition of comfort, and the only one who could convince you that wasting time wasn’t a bad thing after all.

“Love ya!” he bellows suddenly, making you yelp. Now’s not the time to say it back yet. You blow him a kiss and he makes a run for the stairs. Of course, you loved him, too.

And the other sides of him, of course.

a/n: this fic is especially dedicated to my girlies nics (@ddeonuism) and aria (@jaylaxies) bc apparently they love this fic so much so OFC i had to retrieve it and free it from the dungeon! this is for all my jay hoes 🥳 one of the fics that got me started in enhablr AND my first ever jay fic. i tweaked this a lil bit just to make jay hotter and sweeter bc ik that's what y'all want right 🙄 /lh enjoy lovelies!

NSFW TAGLIST [OPEN]: @thots4hee @jaylaxies @ddeonuism @jojayke @vernonluvs-archived @puphee @hee-pster @forjongseong @jaeyunsz @muffinminnie @shu-ramyeonz @poutyjaeyun @fairy-junseong @duolingofanaccount @jkefelx @taetaemylovie @heetro @yizhoutv @lavhikaru @kaislinging-slasher01 @cha0thicpisces @en-archv @simplewonderland @exactlygreatcoffee @lhseth @aerinaga @xwonniex @jyshdoll @iiousim (send an ask or a dm to be added!)

#fics: switch it up #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen oneshots #enhypen headcanons #enhypen drabbles #enhypen smut #enhypen jay #enhypen jay smut #jay smut #park jongseong #jay #enhypen park jongseong #jay hard hours #enhypen hard hours #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jay scenarios #enhypen jay x reader

1K notes · View notes

dinaanana · 10 months ago

Text

Ada x teenager!Reader

Part 2

Characters: Ranpo,Kyouka,Dazai

Synopsis : Them With a Teenager Reader (PLATONIC)

Fluff/Crack

Ranpo edogawa

Again Another Silliest duo!

You Ranpo Kin each other cuz y'all both lazy asf

And Faint when Any Physical Activity Literally

Kunikida yells at y'all for not doing Nothing when yal should be Working

You two Just sit there like. •-• Anyway-

you two always gotta be eating

Morning, Afternoon,Night y'all don't care

When u Have paperwork's you guys just sit There staring and asking eachoher to do ur work

''Cmon aren't u smart u can do these In like a second! And do mine aswell'' You Roll ur eyes

''no thanks Too much Work.'' he Munches on Chips

When There is a meeting and u look at Ranpo who Literally looks like he's in a restaurant

''Pss Ranpo Pass me Some Cookies'' You whispered to him

he gasps loudly and The whole ADA Attention is on him

''(Name) Aren't u ashamed?! We're literally in a meeting right now and ur telling me to Pass you cookies?? tsk tsk tsk .''

You almost have killed him if Atsushi didn't Hold u back

Kyouka Izumi (Platonic Ofc)

You Two Along with Kenji are Besties 😍

You Three are the funniest duo In Ada since y'all the only children there..

But scary Children...

When u three Go to Missions Togather

It's a whole comedy

But A Nightmare for The enemies

Y'all Snuck in the Pm Hideouts and saw Mori there Doing shit idk In his doctor Suit or whatever

You started barking at him

Kyouka and Kenji looked at you Ike: Kenji:😃 Kyouka:😶 ''Umm (Name)? are u turning into A furry like atsushi?)

Elise Was there aswell and literally Asked If y'all wanted to play Hide and Seek or Have a tea party Togather

(Guns were aimed At y'all And this kid just straight up asks with The biggest smile if y'all wanted to play☠️)

Anyway...Y'all escaped and made it to Ada

Everyone was concerned Where y'all were For like 6 Hours straight

Y'all sat down and Explained everything thatt happend

They were all looking like 😃

''So,You three saw him didn't you?'' Kunikida Asked ''I mean the Boss of port mafia''

''you guys saw the B-b-boss???'' Junichiro Trembled And had sweat on His Forehead

''Yes! We saw him but Luckily we escaped ''Kenji smiled like he didn't Just Get aimed by a gun

''He looks like my sleep Paralysis Demon.'' You said while Eating ranpos Chips

''He does..'' Kyouka said quietly.

Dazai Osamu

Oh my God

Your life with Ada was chaotic Enough but with him? It's a whole circus. literally Everyday .

When u two Go to His Favourite Cafe yk where the waitress works. Yeah

You go there like 5 Times a day Sitting there drinking coffee when you're suppose to be doing ur work.

he flirts with The waitress Tryna Get her To double suicide with him and Always Fails miserably

You make Fun of him for having 0 Rizz

''What is A rizz (Name)?'' he asks with a raised brow

''Oh it's...'' You explain It to him in TikTok Terms

''Oohhhh'' he Gasps ''i knew it'' he didn't. He tryna be all cool Infront of the waitress.

you just shrug And Sip Your (Favourite Drink)

When y'all on a Mission? it's a whole chaos

he once used u as a Bait once ☠️

Y'all where being chased By some armed men

''(Name) if you stray here they will stop Chasing us'' You stopped and Almost got shot but beat every Man Senseless

Never Trust that Mf Again

Like how do you even survive going On missions with him.idk

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd fandom #bsd x you #armed detective agency #bsd dazai #dazai x reader

36 notes · View notes

tv-girllover07 · 11 months ago

Text

Dead Phone📱

Craig Poole x fem!reader

Movie: Mr Harrigan’s Phone

Part 1

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

You and Craig have been friends for a long time your parents went to school together and they both went though there pregnancy’s together your dad passed when you were young you were only 4 so you don’t really remember him much then a few years later Craig’s mom passed away it was hard on both of you cause she was like a second mom but it was harder on him cause she was his real mom.

But after two years he was still trying to get over it and when it was Sunday you and your mom and Craig and his dad would go to church and while we stood up from our seats we hear the door open and shut, Craig and I turn to see Mr. Harrigan while he sits down and Craig gets called up to do the reading, once he done the reading he sit back down and turning to Mr. Harrigan who nods his head at him. After church mom and I go home and later that evening mom gets a call and says it’s for me and it’s Craig saying that Mr. Harrigan hired him to read to him and after a while Craig would invite me to the readings but I would always help Edna clean around the house we have been going to Mr. Harrigan’s house three times a week for five years and got payed five dollar an hour and got red devil scratches on special occasions.

But that was a few years ago things have changed Craig and I are still friends but we both changed we both went though puberty he got taller and his voice got a little deeper but he still had a baby face which I found cute, while he went though that I got boobs and an ass and got a little taller and grew my hair out

(Y/n POV)

Now we are both in high school there wasn’t a school in Harlow so we had to be bused in to Gates Falls. Billy Ueberroth's older brother, Mike, or U-Boat, as everybody called him had already been in the deep end, came out unscathed, and had agreed to show us the ropes if we paid him, Craig and I turn our heads and see U-boat laughing hysterically at a comic he was reading. I lean my head on his shoulder let out a sigh “Today’s going to be a long day” “Yep” he replied

Once the bus stop and we got off the bus U-boat tapped our shoulders and we each give him five dollars, “Sweet alright boys and girls, time to show you where the bodies are buried.” U-boat spoke and we start to walk forward, we take about five steps before we’re stopped “And stop, give me your eyes and ears dangerously lies ahead, now on your left…” we all stare to the left “Don’t stare. Don’t venture over there unless you’re looking for a black eye, lung cancer, or a tattoo” U-boat spoke to all of us, Craig and I look back to our left and see this tall kid with long black hair giving us a death glare and Craig and I look back at U-boat and we walk into the school.

“You see, hazing is forbidden at Gates Falls High, but that doesn't mean it don't happen. You're gonna have to steel yourself acquire a cold eye and a mean look. Don’t take any shit or your years here will be hell It's just like prison do your time under the radar.” U-boat continued talking and you could see a kid at the vending machine struggling to get his drink out so U-boat slammed his hand at the top and you could hear the drink fall and you could hear the kid say thanks,

“And don't think all this doesn't apply to you, Margie, Y/n those senior girls are mean as pythons they don't strike at once but enjoy squeezing the life out of you over the course of the year.” U-boat said to us and Margie and I stop walking for a moment but we catch up with them and I walk beside Craig and we get to the cafeteria “Last stop of the tour the cafeteria this is where the popular kids hang out.”

“They all have smartphones” Craig said “Motorola Razer, Samsung table over there in the corner and that is the Apple table.” “What…iPhones just came out how did they get them?” Craig asked “Because they're the popular kids.” U-boat replied “We gotta get phones” Billy said and the bell rings and Craig and I get to math.

(Craigs POV)

When you grow up in a small town and are suddenly exposed to an alien world, your universe expands. You see strange and different faces. Some of them are friendly. but others, sometimes others seem drawn to you in a dark way, to not like you and for no reason.

I turn back to look at y/n and she looks up and smiles at me and I look back at the bored and my checks flushed, class was over and y/n and I walk down the hallway to towards the stairs we were stop by that tall kid earlier “Hey! How you doing? I saw you earlier, Short Bus.” He has a brown paper bag in his hands and looks at y/n

“Take it, look inside” I take the bag from her and look inside “Shoe polish?” I asked “Every freshman shines and you two are gonna shine mine on the shitter.” He said to the both of us “We have to get to class.” I said to him so y/n and I could leave but he didn’t let us.

”No, not until you shine my boots.” I look to my left and see a teacher coming up the stairs and I look back at him “No” “No is a mistake you don’t wanna make” he said and looks at y/n “Shine my boots, or I feed this can of polish to you.” But before he could do anything we hear another voice “Boys…and girl, is there a problem here?” She asked us

“No, no problem” I said and hand the bag back to him, “What's in the bag? It wouldn't happen to be a hazing kit, would it?” “No” the black haired kid said while laughing “We gotta get to class” before we could move she stops us “Wait what’s your name?” She asked me “Um Craig” I said to the teacher and she looked at y/n “What’s yours?” “It’s y/n ma’am” “Okay what’s in the bag, Craig?” She asked me

“Umm…it’s…half a sandwich he was asking us if we wanted it” I said to her and looked back at y/n “Hmm. Okay” the teacher said and walked away and y/n and I make our way down the stairs “You’re gonna regret this” he said to y/n and I “I just saved your ass you should be saying thank you.” I said to him “Fuck your thanks new boy”

“You don’t know us what did we do to you?” Y/n asked him being confused “You tried to show me up” he yelled at us “You just should’ve shined, short bus you should’ve shined” he said and walked away, y/n and I continue walking down the stairs “Kid had some serious issues” y/n with a laugh.

(Y/n POV)

The rest of the day was a blur and went by fast and we get to Craig’s house I don’t really need to call my mom cause she know that if I’m not at school or Mr. Harrigan’s house then I’m at Craig’s.

Once we’re in the door we take off our coats and slide off our jackets and walk towards the stairs “Hey there he is, oh hey y/n good to see you, first day of high school how was it?” Craig’s dad asked us “Good” Craig replied

“That’s it? Just good?” Craig laughs lightly “Okay it was great” he said sarcastically “You have, uh, all the right supplies?” “Yeah” Craig said softly “What about your teachers? You like ‘em?” His dad asked like the good dad he is “Good dad it’s all good, Okay?” Craig said getting a little stressed with the conversation “Yeah, okay well if you need anything, just uh…ask that going for you too Y/n”

“Alright thank you” “Hey y/n you can go upstairs I’ll be there in a second” Craig said while looking at me “alrighty” and when I’m going upstairs I could hear there conversation “Dad can I get a cell phone?” “What do you need a cell phone for?” “For instance, I need help or I need to call 911.” “We live in a town so small you can shout and I’ll show up.” “Okay” is all Craig said and went upstairs.

Part 2>

#jaeden martell x reader #jaeden martell #jaeden martell smut #mr.harrigans phone #Craig #sadgirl #tw death #fem!reader #🤰🏻#mgmt #spotify

6 notes · View notes

rhaenyratargcryen · 2 years ago

Note

Can we get a fluff Steve Harrington request where he and the Henderson!reader take Dustin to meet Suzy at a museum and maintain a distance from them and they reminisce about how they started (childhood friends to eventual lovers) and they talk about their future?

this is so cute i'm crying 😭 i got a little carried away hahaha hope i did this justice for u!!

just some stinky stupid face-melting fluff <3 also i imagine this taking place at the natural history museum in SLC, idk when it opened and when they had what and hell i don’t even know if they have a second floor, but you and dustin and steve all road tripped out to utah to visit suzie et. al and took them to the museum for the day on a lil date bc everybody knows utah is the place to BE for fossils!!!!

no warnings, steve harrington x henderson!reader (this one doesn’t have any gendered language/any gendered descriptors, so gn!reader!), ~1.4k words :)

"Alright, kids," Steve sighs, shoving his wallet back into his pocket after shelling out the admission fee for the four of you. He crosses his arms over his chest. "You get two hours on your own, then you meet us back here, you hear me?"

Dustin is glancing around at the other museum guests, his hand tucked in Suzie's, and you smack your brother on the shoulder. He yelps Ow! and fixes you with a glare, rubbing the stinging skin with his free hand.

"Are you listening to Steve?”

"Meet you back here in two hours," Suzie says, smiling, and you nod at her, reaching down to grab Steve’s hand in yours.

"Two hours. If you need more time after that, we’ll set you off again, but I’m so serious. I don’t want your parents killing me because I lost you today, alright?”

“I’m setting an alarm on my watch for an hour forty,” you say, pressing a few buttons on the Casio at your wrist. Dustin and Suzie mutter their understanding and then shuffle off, Suze pulling him toward the stairs. She wants to head to the gemstones first, but Dustin’s protesting faintly about wanting to see the dinosaurs. Their bickering trails off as they get further away from the two of you, you and Steve laughing lightly.

"God, they're cute," you sigh, and Steve snorts, squeezing your hand. You watch Dustin and Suzie as they disappear around the corner.

"For a couple'a dweebs."

"Harrington," you murmur, glancing up and setting your most accusatory look on him.

"Alright, alright," Steve says, chuckling and bringing your joined hands up and around your front so that his arm is now resting over your shoulder. "They're cute, I guess."

“So, where are we heading first?”

“Well, I think those two nerds are on their way to the gems and minerals exhibit. Wanna go look at some dinosaurs with me, baby?”

“Do you even have to ask, Steve?”

Steve grins and kisses the side of your head, and the two of you wander away from the admissions office, stopping to pick up a map from one of the museum attendants.

“Looks like we gotta go up,” Steve murmurs, bumping his hip against yours to get your attention, then dropping your hand and taking the stairs up to the second floor two at a time. You whine as you trail behind him.

“What, you really want those two beating us back out here? We’ll never hear the end of it. Gotta step it up, baby.”

You roll your eyes at him and hold your hand out, making him take it in his again. You have to walk through a few other exhibits before you make it to Past Worlds, your eyes widening at the sight of all the skeletons in the room.

“Wow,” you whisper, and Steve hums, seemingly as speechless as you are. “This is insane.”

“Look at that guy,” Steve says, using your joined hands to point at a Stegosaurus. “Bet nobody messed with him back in the day.”

You smile over at him and lean in to kiss him on the shoulder. I love you so much, you think, the look of wonder on his face twisting your stomach into knots.

“Are you guys following us?”

You whirl around at the sound of Dustin’s voice and smile at him from across the exhibit, waving with three of your fingers. The two of them look so at home admiring all of the fossils, it kind of warms your heart.

Steve snorts, immediately bristling at the accusation. “Why would we be following you, asswipe? We thought you were going to see the shiny rocks. We’re on a date, too, here.”

You elbow Steve but you start to laugh, too, at the expression on Dustin’s face. Suzie is laughing, too, leaning up to mutter something in Dustin’s ear. His glare fades, but he rolls his eyes at Steve all the same, putting on a tough guy act that you think is, quite frankly, adorable.

“Alright, well, just. We’re heading down to gems and minerals now. I better not see you losers there.”

Dustin pulls Suzie out of the room, but not before the two of them stop short in front of the Ceratopsian wall and gaze up at it in awe.

Steve scoffs, looks over at you, and you can’t help but laugh even harder at the offended look on his face. “Seriously, where does he get off?”

“It’s his first girlfriend, Steve,” you mutter, looping an arm around his waist and squeezing. “I’m sure if you had an older sister who chaperoned all of your dates at that age, you’d have been a bit sensitive about it, too.”

“At that age, I had had a dozen girlfriends, so.”

“I remember,” you groan. “Vividly.”

Steve purses his lips and leans down to kiss the top of your head. “Aw, baby. You know it’s always only ever been you for me.”

You pinch Steve’s arm and he yelps, jumping back.

“What was that for?!”

“It’s how I’ve decided to check your ego whenever you say something like that,” you laugh, relishing in the sour look on Steve’s face.

“I thought I was being romantic! I mean, seriously, Henderson,” Steve sighs. “Can you imagine if we’d had our shit together at that point in our lives?”

“What, you mean, like, if we’d figured out we were in love with each other before our senior year of high school?”

“Exactly,” Steve says, smiling softly at you. “Imagine all those years we would have had together.”

“Yeah, but, Steve - as much as I love holding your hand and kissing you and all that stuff, and as much as I want to do it for the rest of our lives - you’ve always been my best friend. So, you know, I’m alright with when we got our shit together.”

There’s a brief, comfortable silence, and then Steve smirks at you. “You want to do this for the rest of our lives?”

Your face flushes. “You know I do, Steve.”

The grin on his face widens and he leans down to kiss you deeply, and you let him for a few moments, before pushing your hand against his chest.

“There are quite literally children here, Harrington,” you murmur, carefully shoving him off of you.

“Yeah, but I’m lovin’ on my baby,” he laughs, and you groan at him, twisting your hand into his hair and scratching gently. “And my baby wants to love on me for the rest of our lives. That’s the kind of stuff you gotta celebrate, you know? With kisses.”

You shake your head but the smile growing on your face betrays you. You let him lean back in to plant a few short, quick kisses on your mouth before you slip your hand into his again and pull back.

“I do love you, Steve Harrington,” you say.

“I love you too, sweet thing,” he replies. “I always have.”

You groan and point a finger down your throat, fake gagging at the two of you, and Steve laughs, throwing his head back.

“Enough outta you. More dinosaurs?” Steve tugs on your hand, but you shake your head, and he drops it, backing off to go check out some of the older fossils while you stay put in the Jurassic period. You can’t help but watch him from across the room, studying the way his face gets all pinched when he reads something he thinks is cool, the way he has to squint to see the fossils high above his head. You smile at the thought of how many more museum dates the two of you have ahead of you.

He glances over and catches you staring, blows a kiss at you and laughs when you blush, before going back to reading the information boards in front of the exhibit he’s checking out.

After a while, you meander back over and lean into him. He throws an arm across your shoulders and steers you to a large fossil on the opposite side of the exhibition.

“Woah.”

“Right?”

“Huge,” you agree. The two of you stand there in silence, both heads cocked to the side, studying the dinosaur carefully.

You feel a buzz at your wrist, so you check your watch and furrow your brow. You’d been wandering around the museum for almost two hours already?

“Steve,” you mutter, glancing around. No red EXIT signs in sight.

“Yep,” he replies, popping the p, staring straight up at the Allosaurus.

“How the fuck do we get out of here?”

#ask #anonymous #lil blurb #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #emily writes #i wrote this instead of working hahahahhaha #one thing i hardcore gotta work on is figuring out how time passes in writing LMFAO #can't believe i'm trying to pass 1k words off as two hours smh #whatever <3

143 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 4 years ago

Text

busted in busan

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k a/n; for @suhdays holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.”

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh.

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans.

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea.

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease.

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile.

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head.

“Will the weather let up?” A frown.

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive.

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him.

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment.

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter.

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first.

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.”

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.”

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down.

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care.

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.”

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him.

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.”

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.”

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.”

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?”

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.”

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line.

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot.

“Nah, been booked since last month.”

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?”

He pats his luggage as a response.

“That’s not fair!”

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.”

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.”

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face.

“You want my ticket,” he states.

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle.

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those!

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks.

“Who said I was offering?”

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?”

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides.

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake.

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.”

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate.

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10.

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy.

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes.

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes.

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.”

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?”

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.”

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—”

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain.

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard.

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not.

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good.

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell.

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things.

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer?

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price.

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice.

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.”

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?”

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution.

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.”

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.”

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.”

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.”

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks.

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.”

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut.

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty.

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh.

You huff, and shift in your seat.

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him.

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply.

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.”

“Why, I’m engaged!”

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.”

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind.

“Holy fuck, have you two not—”

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!”

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing.

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle.

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.”

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position.

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to.

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months.

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.”

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you.

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—”

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman.

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger.

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that.

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses.

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to.

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing.

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook.

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams.

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow.

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside.

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible.

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat.

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van.

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back.

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them.

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off.

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet.

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously.

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots.

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint.

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure.

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey.

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?”

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.”

“Do you drive around a lot?”

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.”

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach.

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain.

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.”

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.”

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute.

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening.

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!”

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.”

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.”

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose.

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?”

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.”

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like.

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize: are you flirting with Jungkook?

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell.

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind.

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.”

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?”

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.”

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—”

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.”

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air.

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car.

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt.

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.”

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?”

“Wait, you have a crush on me?”

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.”

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.”

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.”

That singular statement hits you, hard.

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs.

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.”

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself.

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable.

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow.

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route.

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.”

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath.

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer.

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours.

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours.

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?”

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.”

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook?

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk.

There’s no drugs.

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell.

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real.

Jungkook’s an artist.

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?”

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.”

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you.

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.”

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced.

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it.

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart.

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him.

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow.

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway.

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it.

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents.

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.”

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours.

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.”

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door.

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed.

It’s been a day.

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him.

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought.

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face.

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed.

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks.

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake.

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox.

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.”

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.”

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.”

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.”

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, I think I’m in love.”

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask.

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.”

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.”

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.”

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble.

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin.

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you.

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back.

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.”

“Impossible!”

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family.

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.”

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door.

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers.

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him.

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window.

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him.

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.”

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.”

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself.

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—”

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.”

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible.

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.”

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.”

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.”

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch.

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking.

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown.

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.”

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.”

“Will you rile me up now?”

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.”

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell.

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath.

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—”

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.”

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner.

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

1K notes · View notes

tobesolonely · 4 years ago

Text

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together.

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set).

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you.

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?”

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.”

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?”

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice.

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?”

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.”

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up.

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him.

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing.

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing.

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.”

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates.

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks.

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?”

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy.

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room.

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with.

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family.

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way.

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted.

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.”

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you.

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.”

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?”

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean.

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #its not christmas til you come home #thanks for reading!

915 notes · View notes

soobmint · 4 years ago

Text

paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest.

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together.

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood.

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck.

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure.

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face.

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into.

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back.

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

1K notes · View notes

imaginethathaikyuu · 3 years ago

Text

day and night

inspired by the duality of insecurity and appreciation, and the way they often reflect each other in ways you wouldn’t expect

do i already have a fic called day and night? i dont know and at this point im too afraid to check

akaashi keiji x gender neutral reader word count: 1356 tags: fluff, descriptions of akaashi’s insecurity, established relationship, cuddling, this is a fic about me and akaashi

if u see any typos no u didn’t.

He hated the way his mind became so empty in moments like these.

The bedside lamp shouldn’t be on, not so late, not while you were sleeping, but you never complained when you heard the flip of the switch and the opening of Keiji’s book. You slept through it. You tended to do that.

Why?

He couldn’t figure it out. The reason you looked over everything he did wrong hid from him. It made no sense, really, the way you ate his over cooked meals with a straight face, or how you patiently undid the way he folded your clothes and fixed them to your liking, or when you slept with the light on while he read even though he knew you hated it.

You hated it. His cooking and his folding and his light, his mismatched socks and his new cologne and his impatience. Keiji sat, and he watched you sleeping, his book in his lap and his glasses sliding off the bridge of his nose, knowing you hated all of these things about himself that he wouldn’t change, and still, there wasn’t a thought going through his head. His book had been forgotten. He was just looking at you.

You put up with a lot. Likely too much. His alarm clock woke you up early while he slept right through it. Texts you send throughout the day go unnoticed by him. Late nights at work keep you up and waiting for him, just to watch him lock himself up in his office for another three hours of work.

It wasn’t like these traits about him were new, but they were louder, now. They were blaring and obvious and bothersome and every positive thing he brought to this relationship seemed so goddamn quiet.

That’s how Keiji felt. Quiet. It wasn’t an emotion, yet it was the only word he could think of to describe this insignificance. Maybe fragile was a better word.

He closed his book. He placed it on the nightstand and let his glasses join it. Finally the light could be turned off, and maybe you would sleep more peacefully now. He threw his arm over your waist and pulled your back against his chest, trying to rid all of that distance, trying to fill the silence with your warmth.

He’d lay awake for another hour.

You heard it before your mind and body even woke up, and you knew what it was without needing to come out of your dream: that damn alarm.

God, was it loud - it pierced your ears, it seemed loud enough to shake the walls and damage your hearing, and maybe it was because you had just woken up, but you could hardly stand it.

Opening your eyes was the hardest thing you had ever done. Everything was fuzzy and foggy, you tried to blink it away but you couldn’t, and all you cared about was getting rid of that noise.

You climbed over a still sleeping Keiji to reach his phone and shut it off, knowing that the alarm would ring again in ten minutes time, and your energy had run out. You collapsed on top of him, the crook of his neck becoming your new pillow and his chest your mattress.

In a sleepy daze you wore a smile, wondering how on Earth he sleeps so soundly through the loudest alarm you’d ever heard. He doesn’t even move when you land on him, and he only continues to snore when his second alarm rings out.

Like always, you’d let him sleep longer than you should. He’d be running late, but neither of you would care too much. It had become the routine, and you weren’t about to break this habit. You needed the time with him and Keiji needed the sleep.

It was nice to be awake before him, and you had learned to get over the frustration that came with hearing that dreaded alarm clock. It wasn’t very difficult when you got to wake up to Keiji, who was comfort personified. He was the consolation to early, loud mornings.

As you laid there, cuddling into his heated skin, listening to his breathing and his snoring and his heart beating, all you could focus on was how much you missed him.

Sometimes these mornings were all you had with him. Your work schedules didn’t match - granted, Keiji’s schedule matched no one’s - and neither did your sleeping routines. Even when you stayed up late for him, even when he came home for lunch, even when you both had the same day off, there was just never enough time in the day.

You never had enough of him. You wished you could become a sponge and soak all of him up - leave nothing behind, keep all of this golden man to yourself forever. It was a kind of selfishness you’d take pride in, if such an act was possible.

But even though you missed him so much, even though letting him get out of bed every morning was harder than it should have been, you always sent him off with a kiss. You always reminded him you loved him. As proud as you were of yourself for reeling in the prize catch that was Akaashi Keiji, you were infinitely more proud of him - of his drive, of his work, of his charm. Proud of every success and failure. Of everything he provides and everything he strives for. Even as he struggled to tie his necktie in the morning, or missed important deadlines, or let himself become more distant than he should. There was always some amount of pride in there, and you never had to look hard to find it.

Originally, you were going to let him sleep in this morning. He deserved it. But now, the more you thought about it - you’d much rather wake him up early. You deserved it.

Your lips molded to the edge of his jawline as you grabbed his arm, slowly and surely shaking him awake.

“Kei.”

He grunted, then hummed, then whined. He tried to roll over but your weight on top of him held him down, though he hadn’t even realized you were there. Fists dragged along his eyes and feet kicked the blanket away with a big stretch - every morning was the same.

“Gotta get up, babe,” you said before a yawn, and he pretended not to hear you. You only shook his shoulder harder.

“No,” he griped, and finally he opened his eyes, only to shut them tight. “Going in late today.”

“You said you’d make me breakfast.”

“You said you’d rather go without,” he said with a tired laugh trailing his words.

He found the strength to roll the two of you over, tucking himself into you the way you had cuddled into him, and you gave his hair a tug. A warning to say, you better not fall asleep.

“I was kidding,” you said. “Want you to make me something. Please.”

He gave a groan, one you knew meant fine, but his arms tightened around you, and his legs twisted around yours, and he had nothing more to say.

“Keiji.”

“Five minutes, babe.”

Keiji knew the two of you would be there for longer than that, and you did, too. He knew it could’ve been a bother, but you relaxed into bed, anyway, and let him do as he pleased.

“Goodnight, then.”

“Love you.”

You laughed. “Goodnight.”

And he squeezed your waist, making you jump. “Say it back.”

“I will, when you bring me my burnt breakfast in bed.”

“I will,” he sighed. “In five more minutes.”

It wouldn’t be just five more minutes. That would be inevitable. But he would bring you the breakfast he promised, and it would all be as burnt as you expected. That would be inevitable, too.

But you would eat it. And Keiji was glad that all of these things were a cherished certain, things he couldn’t change, things you loved him for even though he tended to lose sleep over them.

He tried his best. And you knew that without being told. And he appreciated it.

#oh my god i would have posted this sooner but my sister wont shut up about kpop drama #also theres a lightning bug in my room #fun huh #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #scenario #fluff

167 notes · View notes

purplechaosguardian · 3 years ago

Note

Now I'm just imaging Player desperately to keep these kids from getting killed or hurting themselves. Wait. Wouldn't that mean that them turning the SOUL Yellow it can be interpreted as the Player being so angry about what Spamton Neo almost killing Kris that they decided to change the SOUL color to the most offensive one?

You had a bad feeling about Spamton from the beginning. Whether because of his odd way of speaking, his really disturbing habit of projecting on to Kris, or just common sense that dudes who laugh maniacally before jumping out of dumpsters in alleys generally don't have your best interests in mind. Probably a combination of all three. Regardless, even after the two of you spared the little weirdo, you had the feeling that wasn’t the last you’d see of him.

But between the Queen’s antics and trying to keep the kids from seriously hurting themselves, he would soon be forgotten.

Hours later, you and Kris would be exploring the dungeon. It was their idea, that maybe the Queen had something down there that would make the surely upcoming fight easier, and you had agreed. The 4 barely managed to win the fight against Lancer’s sorry excuse of a father by the skin of your teeth. If the Queen’s fight was anything like his, that it was at least worth a look around.

The search was ultimately fruitless, unless the Queen’s weakness was vines or something. Kris sighed in disappointment as they made their way out but you mentally grinned. “it was still a really good idea, krispey kreme!” They chuckled at the incredibly stupid nickname.

Until something dropped from the ceiling and sent them flying. “kris! kris, are you o-.” You stopped at the cachopnic cackling.

“HOLY [[Cungadero]] DO I FEEL GOOD…

HERE I AM!! KRIS!”

You could feel Kris’s fear, and while you’d be lying if you said you weren’t afraid yourself, you shoved it deep down. You had to be calm. For them.

“BIG BIG, [[BIGGER AND BETTER THAN EVER]] HA HA HA ... THIS POWER IS FREEDOM.

I WON'T HAVE TO BE JUST A PUPPET ANY MORE!!!!

...

OR... so... I... thought.

WHAT ARE THESE STRINGS!?

WHY AM I NOT [BIG] ENOUGH!?

It's still DARK... SO DARK!”

The puppet continued to shriek, but the green threads remained, leaving him prisoner to whoever was on the other end. He lunged for them, and they barely dodged the swinging legs. “KRIS.

KRIS.

THAT'S RIGHT.

YOU.

I NEED YOU.”

Another lunge, another dodge. TO BE BIG.

WITH ME.

VERY VERY BIG” This time, the kick did land. “kris!”

“SO BIG WE'LL STAND UP TALL AND SEE PAST THE DARK STAND UP WITH OUR HEADS IN THE CLOUDS AND LOOK INTO HEAVEN I JUST NEED THAT LITTLE, [[SOUL]] Y O U HAVE.”

The puppet laughed maniacally as he pointed the gun at the two of you, Kris weakly placing their hand over you, you powerless to do anything to protect themA flash of purple. Susie!

“Kris! The hell was that weirdo!?” To be fair, you really didn’t know yourself. “Kris, we were worried about you so…” And you were glad they came. A second too soon and Kris would have been…ugh.

You felt them to get up again. “easy kris. there’s no rush to get moving. you can take a breath.” And if the abomination was reading your thoughts or something, a voice destroyed the recently claimed relief.

“Y O U HAVE KRIS!!! YOU HAVE [Friends]!?

WHY DON'T YOU TELL THEM ABOUT MY [3 for One Specil]!

TODAY, THE WHOLE FAMILY CAN TAKE A LITTLE [Ride Around Town]...”

Roller coasters scooped up the trio, bolting down the track at breakneck speeds.

“[Attention Customers! Clean up on Aisle 3!] SOMEONE LEFT [There] SOULS, [Lyeing Around......]” Blue copies of his head headed straight for the cars.

“no.” You shot out of Kris, shooting and clearing their path, then Ralsei’s. Susie’s was a little more difficult, but not impossible.

Kris!?!? WAS THAT A [BIG SHOT] JUST NOW!?

WOW!!!

I'M SO [Proud] OF YOU, I COULD [Killed] YOU!

[Heaven], are you WATCHING?

IT'S TIME TO MAKE A VERY [Specil] DEAL...

You were beyond enraged. This little freak thought he could hurt Kris, and try to hurt Ralsei and Susie, and thought there would be no consequences? No backlash. You had enough.

“Kris!?!? WAS THAT A [BIG SHOT] JUST NOW!?

WOW!!!

I'M SO [Proud] OF YOU, I COULD [Killed] YOU!

[Heaven], are you WATCHING?

IT'S TIME TO MAKE A VERY [Specil] DEAL…” “kris!” They just pointed to you, eyes as round as dinner plates. “oh yeah, i’m surprised i can still do this. long story. but i’ll tell you later! do what you gotta do and don’t worry about the obstacles, this’ll be a cakewalk for me!” They nodded and began planning their strategy, while you focused on the puppet.

Time to make him pay.

#deltarune #shared control au #the player #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #spamton #Susie #Ralsei

147 notes · View notes

shadowsinger11 · 4 years ago

Text

You, The Stars And I

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k (oops)

Requested by @amira3113: Can I request a fic abt the reader seeing Fred and George comforting a kid after Umbridge punished him and the reader helps them and Fred thinks it's so cute what she is doing and she does the same and extra mega fluff, pls?🥺 you don't gotta do it if u don't want to btw.. so no pressure ;)

Warnings: A bit more angst than intended, Fred being a soft boi™️

A/N: I don't know how to feel, I just roasted myself hardcore with this and I'm feeling even more single. I'm sorry for not being able to use a 'keep reading' tab

Masterlist

The sun fell asleep behind the endless hills, enveloped by dense, opaque darkness. Its golden rays no longer shone through the wide windows of the castle and instead let shadows creep into the long, empty hallways, revealing the ugly truth about what the school had turned into over the past few months.

The naked walls stood tall, towering over you and inching closer with every step you took, and you hung your head low, aiming to block out the singular buzzing thought in your head.

Hogwarts was no longer home.

Your heart ached at the memory of hundreds of students chattering and laughing all day long, freely walking around the school grounds and simply being children. You so terribly missed being careless and having fun without the fear of potentially facing a life-threatening punishment.

But now there was no laughter, only your footsteps echoed in the hallway.

You were headed straight to your common room, determined to go to sleep early. The curfew and the dozens of new restrictions prevented you from meeting your friends, and you hoped that sleep would at least somehow distract you from your worries for a couple of hours.

The deafening silence nearly caused you to miss the muffled sobs and quiet whispering, coming from a turn not far away. It seemed as though there were more than one voice speaking, and your chest clenched with dread.

You hurried your pace until you reached the source of the noise, and peeked from behind the wall.

The sight most definitely surprised you, but the pain in your chest only sharpened.

There, on a bench, Fred and George were sitting, hunched over a small boy, probably no older than a second year. You could tell by his green robes which house he was in, but his red, tear-stained face was what alarmed you.

You immediately approached him and fell to your knees. George was on his left, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, while Fred was on the other side, holding his small hand in his, on the back of which a few words glistened with fresh crimson blood.

I must not ask questions.

You sent the twins a questioning look, but Fred dismissed it by shaking his head; clearly that was not the time for an explanation, nor was one necessary to begin with.

You placed a hand on the boy's knee to make your presence known.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

This only caused the child to sob harder and you internally cursed for having to go through this routine.

"It hurts…" he whimpered, "I thought Hogwarts was fun. I met friends last year and it was great. But now… Now I really want to go home."

Your jaw clenched and you swallowed hard, furious about seeing innocent children slowly losing faith and joy in life, turning into hollow shells of the amazing people they could have grown to become.

The horrifying experience would inevitably have a massive impact on them and unexplainable guilt twisted your stomach. And even though the long-term damage had already been done, you could at least take care of the temporary pain.

"It's not going to hurt for long, I promise," Fred whispered, tenderly playing with the boy's trembling fingers. "Ours are already fading."

"That's true, see?" George showed the back of his hand on which you could make out the faint, bloody words 'I must not cause trouble.', and you felt sick. "Soon you won't even remember it was there."

Tears stung in your eyes, but before you gave them a chance to fall, you turned to the redheads.

"I can heal the wound. Well, to an extent. If anything, I can lessen the pain," you began. "But I need to grab something from the Charms classroom."

Fred frowned, confused, "Wouldn't you need a potion for that? Why Charms?"

"Snape isn't the only one armored with potions for just in case things go wrong. And we can't risk going to the dungeons at this hour. It's not wise to tell Madam Pomfrey yet either."

The twins nodded. George said.

"It's not a good idea for all of us to go at once. I suggest one of us returns and covers the others up if necessary."

"I'll go with her," Fred stated without a second thought. "I can get them safely where they need to be, let her do her thing and bring them back."

Fred's eagerness to help filled you with warmth and for once that night you had the strength to smile, even for just a second.

"That sounds like plan then. But you should really take the map," George added, already pulling out the neatly folded Marauder's Map from his backpack. "Don't wanna risk getting caught by the ugly toad, you know."

"As if she'd be strolling down the hallways late at night. Doesn't she have hobbies?"

"Does hanging creepy pictures of cats on pink walls count as such?" you commented and the second year giggled, which made you feel slightly better as well.

Fred took the map from George and you grabbed the boy's hand.

"Good luck, guys. And, like, don't die."

"Woah, greatly encouraging, Georgie," you replied sarcastically, but appreciated it nonetheless. "You sure you'll be fine?"

"Absolutely. I got the route memorized like the back of my hand. I'll be careful."

And with that, George headed towards the Gryffindor Tower while you, Fred and the boy went in the opposite direction - the East Towers.

The night was eerily quiet, only the footsteps and shuddering breaths of the three of you keeping you sane. The soft light, gleaming at the tip of your wands, didn't do much to brighten the empty hallways which now seemed like endless voids of darkness.

Occasionally Fred would warn you about Filch's cat approaching, or Peeves causing trouble nearby, but fortunately, you reached the classroom sooner than expected.

"Alohomora," you whispered, but the door didn't bulge when you tried to open it.

Fred grinned, "Surely a Charms professor wouldn't let such a cliché unlock his own classroom."

"Shut up," you grumbled. "Aberto!"

The door opened. Fred's eyes widened in amusement and you flashed him a charming smile on your way in.

You placed the boy to sit on a desk as you and your friend rushed to look through drawers and chests for something useful. Most of them were full of basic items such as old books and quills, half-full jars of salamander blood, pearl dust and gillyweed, and after long fifteen minutes of not having found anything, you slid your back down against the wall, sighing in frustration.

Sleep-deprivation was kicking in, but your anxiety was getting stronger.

You needed to do something. Fast.

"What about this chest right here?" Fred asked from the other side of the classroom, pointing at something under Flitwick's desk.

You shook your head, "Doesn't open, already tried. Even if the cure is there, we can't get it."

"I take it your brilliant spells don't work anymore?" the redhead teased and you so badly wished to slap away the cocky smirk on his face. Or kiss it. There was something oddly attractive about the way he'd set your nerves on fire, and you hated yourself for enjoying it. Fred seemed to love it too.

"If you're only here to be annoying, just leave."

"I'm here to help too. I can multitask."

You nearly jumped from the ground to strangle him, and he clearly saw through your intentions because his toothy grin almost split his face in two. That bastard.

That super annoying, devilishly handsome bastard.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you coming? Not that I mind the attention," he shrugged.

You rose to your feet and made your way over to where he was standing, not granting him the pleasure of facing him, "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. Your stupidity is simply impossible to be unnoticed."

Fred laughed, "Oh, so I was annoying and now I'm stupid too? Make up your mind, woman."

You pulled out your wand and smirked at him over your shoulder.

"You said it yourself that you can multitask. Aberto!"

Nothing.

Fred squinted his eyes as he stared at the wooden chest. What spell could the professor have possibly used? Could you have even heard of it? The chances of ever finding the precious item were becoming grimmer with each passing second and the inevitable sense of dread had started to settle in.

After a minute Fred finally spoke.

"I think your problem is that you're using spells that only work on doors. You need a charm which unlocks containers."

"You might be right. What would that be then?" you enquired, glancing at the redhead. He took his own wand out of his robes.

"I know a spell that's come in handy before. Hopefully it will work now," he wettened his lips and said. "Cistem Aperio!"

Blinding light caused you to cover you eyes, and the chest opened with a loud thud which could have easily alerted the entire floor of your presence if it wasn't for the silencing charm you were lucky to have used when you first entered the classroom.

You finally dared to open your eyes and kneeled on the ground, carefully rummaging through fancy-looking boxes and vials sparking with liquids that seemed to be quite important.

"What are we looking for?" Fred asked as he crouched next to you.

"Wound-Cleaning Potion. Purple."

It was weird having Fred stand this close to you; sparks of electricity would pierce your heart every time his shoulder brushed against yours, or his fingers would accidentally graze yours. And when they did, they had you longing more and more for their touch, for their warmth.

But this warmth did not belong to you.

You swallowed down the disappointment and instead attempted to focus on the task at hand.

Just as you had expected, the precious crystal bottle was carefully wrapped in sparkling cloth and placed inside a box that was hidden deep in the corner of the chest. You breathed a sigh of relief and got on your feet, determined to stay away from Fred. For his sake and yours.

"Here it is," you smiled at the boy as you walked over to him. "Fred, can you get me some bandages from the drawer in the back?" you asked, pointing right behind him, and he did as he was told.

You took the hand of the young Slytherin and examined it closely - the wound was sure to leave a nasty scar, one that would never heal.

"Can you make it disappear?" he asked, fearfully.

Your heart dropped. But you replied with all the courage you could muster.

"I can try."

Fred was soon by your side and placed the medical items on the desk; a half-full packet of cotton, some bandages and a small box of bandaids. You muttered a 'thanks', not even looking at him, and opened the middle-sized bottle. It spread a characteristic smell of ashes, mint and lemon when you lifted it towards your nose - it was ready to use.

"So what now?" Fred asked.

Not granting him a reply, you simply took a small piece of the cotton and dipped the opening of the bottle into it, soaking it with a generous amount of the purple, dense liquid. The smell grew stronger.

Fred could only watch as you yet again gently grabbed the boy's hand and carefully dabbed the back of it; a thin steam of smoke soared from the contact of wet cotton and wounded flesh, purple mixing with red, and the kid hissed in pain. You worked attentively but quickly, with measured gestures and a straight face, and you missed the way Fred's eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you helping a small kid.

But one thing baffled him - why did you suddenly start acting so emotionless? Even towards the youngling who didn't know a thing. And though your expression seemed calm and collected, the Gryffindor noticed your tensed jaw.

What he wasn't aware of, however, was the racing speed of you heart, increasing each second. He wasn't aware of the short, shallow breaths you were taking because if you had allowed yourself to breathe freely, you'd certainly let out tears along with the deeps sighs.

Every move was calculated, every word and breath.

You pressed a fresh piece of cotton against the now cleaned wound and kept it there as you began to roll the bandage over it, securing it in place. When you were done, you placed a gentle, lingering kiss on the hand.

"There. It should do the trick."

The boy's face lit up and he hugged you, not giving you another choice but to wrap your arms around his small body. At least you had managed to bring him back some of the lost warmth.

"We should get him to his dorm," you told Fred and despite not facing him, he knew the words were directed towards him. That still didn't prevent the stinging pain in his chest from being so effortlessly avoided by you, and he frowned, bewildered by your unexpected coldness towards him.

Had he accidentally done anything to upset you? Were you mad at him? What for?

The boy jumped to his feet, visibly less burdened despite the present tear stains on his puffy cheeks. You hoped he'd be able to get some sleep that night regardless of the circumstances.

The three of you left the classroom as quietly as you had entered it and went in the direction of the dungeons. Fred, as usual, did his job at looking at the map and keeping track of the names, moving on the yellow-ish piece to old parchment.

Fortunately, you reached the Slytherin common room without any disturbances along the way, and the boy went inside, eager to crawl into bed and not think about the ugly lady who had punished him so unfairly just a few hours ago.

The door closed without a sound, leaving you and Fred on your own.

His soft voice broke the burdening silence.

"Are you going to bed?"

If you were being honest, you hadn't even thought about sleep during your secret adventure and though your body was on the verge of giving out, your restless mind was sure to wander all night. And the idea of being alone with your thoughts scared you.

"Actually… I don't think so," you began, fiddling with your fingers in hopes to not let Fred see how much they were trembling. "I doubt I'd be able to get any sleep now."

"Me too, I admit," Fred scratched the back of his neck, uncertain as to how to make the situation less awkward than it was. Trying to get you to talk was hard enough as it was, but your sudden avoidance wasn't helping either. All Fred wished for was to witness the hopeful spark in your eyes, the spark that he had noticed diminish on the first day of school when the unsettling news was announced.

Fred was determined to bring the light back and see your joyous smile again.

Without skipping a beat he said.

"Come with me."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, meeting Fred's for the first time that night. You expected to see the ever-present playful mischief in them, but instead they glistened with something you could not quite recognize. The corners of his mouth had formed a smile, one that didn't intend to mock or provoke in any way, but still contained his usual boyish charm. It was humble and sincere, and along with the anticipating look in his eyes it read.

Trust me.

Your mouth went dry, any and all reasoning to stay vanishing in thin air as you tried to make sense out of your inner conflict. Fred surely wouldn't care if you said no, would he? It's not like he'd be offended that someone like you refused to go with him; why would he even be interested in you in the first place?

But the idea of spending some time alone with him did sound very tempting - you desperately needed some positivity in that moment, feeling exceptionally drained of all your energy after having to witness the emotional and psychological impact of Umbridge's dictatorship. And if there was someone who could lift your spirit even in such dark times, that would be Fred.

Screw the idea of a potential relationship, you needed a friend right now.

"Where to, Weasley?"

Fred grinned at the nickname and shoved hands into his pockets.

"The Astronomy Tower. Are you coming?"

You smiled at him.

"Sure."

It was indeed a brilliant idea to spend the night at the place where anyone rarely ever set a foot. Regardless of it being crowded during classes all day, the Tower wasn't a common choice for students to meet, them much preferring locations like the common rooms, the Great Hall, the school grounds or even the Black Lake. But the Tower did possess a magnetic, obscure charm which many people failed to comprehend and appreciate; charm only meant to lure the wandering souls seeking peace under the stars.

Fred approached the iron railing, breathing in the cold, early spring air, and sat cross-legged on the ground. As he saw you standing a few feet away from him, he patted the empty spot next to him.

"Come on now, don't leave me sitting on my own like that," he joked and his face lit up when he noticed the ghost of a smile on your lips for a brief moment. You joined Fred on the ground, settling on a polite distance from him, and though he was slightly disappointed by the gesture, he was grateful to be in your presence nonetheless.

Silence fell over both of you like soft velvet while you stared off into the horizon; the view reached the Forbidden Forest, the outlines of which had melted into the pitch black sky like ink, the lines between the two practically nonexistent in the dead hours of the night as they blurred into one endless void.

"I don't remember the last time I saw stars on the sky," Fred addressed your ever-listening companions above in a low, hushed voice that caused warmth to blossom within you regardless of the cold surrounding you.

"Me neither," you agreed, nostalgia creeping into you, but you decided you'd welcome it this time. "Such a shame we can't see the moon though."

Your friend nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, "That's because it's currently new moon. We'll need to wait for awhile until it's visible again."

You turned to Fred and the air was knocked out of your lungs. All you could do was silently admire the way the starlight was softening his sharp features and giving his usually flaming red hair a calming shade of copper. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion you had realised long ago.

He was such a beautiful man.

Those glowing eyes landed on yours and you felt your face heat up.

"How are you?" he asked abruptly and you choked out in bafflement.

"Y-You mean, right now? Or in general?..."

"How are you coping?" he rephrased. "You know, with everything going on. I noticed Umbridge bothering you recently."

A shuddering breath.

"I like to think that I'm doing better than others," you nodded hesitantly, finding it hard to sort out your emotions. "I'm more worried about the most vulnerable among us, the youngest students. They're just children. They're the ones that are most terrified. I really hope Dumbledore will be able to do something about it… no matter where he might be right now."

Fred was watching you intently; he did not miss your expression, darkened with concern, nor did he miss your slumped figure, slightly hunched over for a reason he believed was other than exhaustion. Your friend moved closer and nudged your foot with his.

"I don't want you to talk to me about the rest. I want to hear about you. I can clearly see you're being tormented by her."

"As if you're not."

"That's not the point," he insisted and placed a hand on your knee, causing you to face him. His smile was gone. "I need to know how this madness is affecting you."

"I couldn't care less about what that toad puts me through," you shook your head dismissively and shrugged. Why was he getting so worked up about it? "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does! It matters to me!" Fred hissed in frustration. "Do you think it doesn't hurt me every time I see Umbridge picking at you or calling you for detention? Because it bloody does and you have no idea how horrible it feels to not be able to help you."

He gave your knee a squeeze.

"For once, just for one time, please. Please, stop trying to be the hero of everybody. Believe me, we see- I see how hard you're trying to keep your chin up despite all the shit you're facing, and that's admirable, but right now it's not necessary. Let go. It's just me."

A way too familiar lump formed in your throat and your chest constricted painfully before it harshly dilated, letting out choked breaths. Fred was quick to envelope you in his long arms before your tears even rolled down your cheeks, and when they did, they met his shoulder. Your hands flew around his neck, body falling into his and soaking up his warmth. Fred pressed his soft lips to your temple, calming the racing pulse as you cried freely and unapologetically. Darling, you feel too much.

It's just me.

Your friend didn't let you out of his hold even when your heart-wrenching whimpers were reduced to weak sobs. He continued cradling your exhausted body which was on the verge of completely giving out. But Fred didn't mind, finding astonishing strength in your vulnerability.

After what seemed like hours, you forced yourself to timidly whisper, lip quivering, "I'm scared... And confused."

"Me too, sweetheart," Fred hummed into your ear. "Me too."

You wiped away the trails of dried tears lingering on your face.

"There's just too much going on. Too much that I'm not ready for."

Realization flashed in Fred's brown eyes and they looked down at you with so much longing, sincerity, but also sympathy and understanding.

You weren't angry at him. You were afraid.

And that was alright.

There was enough time, not need for a rush.

Fred had been waiting for years to find out whether his burning feelings for you were reciprocated, constantly suppressing them in fear of scaring you away and losing you. And now that he knew your heart belonged to him like his did to you, all the stars above couldn't contain his untamed happiness, pure and hopeful.

Surely he could wait a little more for you to grow comfortable with your own emotions.

Fred tightened his hold around you and pecked your cheek tenderly, the subtle touch sending a shock throughout your body and subsiding your need for sleep.

"That's alright," he whispered. "Rest now."

@self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii

Message me if you want to be tagged~

Reblog my work if you enjoyed it!

Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader angst #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #james phelps #george weasley #oliver phelps #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #harry potter imagines

1K notes · View notes

jujutsubabe · 4 years ago

Text

Being friends with Gojo🦋🦋

A/n: ok last friend post with everyone’s fav teacher😌

This man is a TEASE!!! I just know if you breathe a little funny he will clown on you so hard

The two of you just bag on each other so much, you will get frustrated and straight bark at him to shut up while he continues to poke fun at you.

He doesn’t take any of ur comments seriously 😌 he doesn’t mind letting you have the last word but it’s funny seeing how long your banters will last

✨FaceTime!!✨

He likes to get on ur nerves so u already know he loves debating with you

This man will start talking about topics he knows!!! will start a debate with you, like he will just randomly call to debate on something so dumb and trivial saying “Chocolate and cheese go well together don’t you think?”

“Yeah...” you weren’t even listening until the comment starts to digest and you freeze. “Wait what...? Are you crazy?”

*cue an hour long argument as to you explaining why chocolate tastes better with anything else and Gojo insisting otherwise*

(Everytime you talk he turns the volume all down until he sees you stopped talking, then he will turn it up just to insert his opinions again and hear you get even more frustrated)

This lasts until you’re like “You know what...?” *face time ended*

He calls like two hundred times after, and once you finally pickup all he only says, “I won.” Before hanging up😐.

he would def call you at two am only to show you a cool bug outside his window, ESPECIALLY if you hate bugs

(However if you got a spider in your room you can count on him to grab it for you😌 he might chase you around with its nasty carcass but he will exterminate that bug!)

He would def call you in the middle of a mission to show off 😭 I just know Megumi is pissed off.

This man will really set up the phone so you can see the fight, but after like three seconds the phone will drop and have a “poor connection!” Warning before hanging up😭

Right after he will call you all giddy, “Did you see how good I am?”

“Yeah you’re good at this Gojo.” You didn’t see it but you would rather act like you did so he’s happy.

You guys could be on the same mission and he would FaceTime you while you’re in the middle of a fight

You would pick up thinking there was an emergency and he needed you to meet him somewhere, “Gojo? What’s wrong, is everything okay?”

He would grin before flipping the camera to all the curses he took out, “I bet you can’t beat me—“

*FaceTime ended*

Movies!!!💿💿

You find it kinda sweet that Gojo likes to watch movies with his students!

Gojo would def put something scary on so he can see you all squirm and jump around, your reactions are more entertaining than the movie

Whenever you try to relax he will sneak behind you and grab your shoulders, “boo!”

Of course you would jump a hundred feet in the air, cursing him out for scaring you as he laughs.

Nobora would call him so immature as she talks about how she can’t wait to have you as a teacher.

“It’ll be so fun! I’m sure you’re a great teacher!” Itadori perked up.

Nobora nodded, “Mhm, I can’t wait to go on missions with you! She seems so mature doesn’t she?”

Megumi nodded while they all hyped you up.

If your nose wasn’t in the air already it sure was now, “Oh please...you think so?” Your ego is at it peak rn😌😌 these kids are so precious

Gojo would pout as the kids gave you all those sweet praises, and with your confidence boosted you turned to Gojo with a wide grin, “I win.”

Whenever it’s just you two watching a movie, he will take up as much space as he can on the couch before you sit, then pat his lap and be like “You can sit here y/n!”

“Definitely not.” You sat on the floor, you would die before sitting anywhere near that mans lap 😐.....😏.....or would you.....

Once he stops being a jerk he will make space for you, but he is def the kinda guy to rest his arm behind you, idk hot guy things 😌

If you happen to nap on his shoulder expect him to draw on your face or tickle your nose until you sneeze.

Self care 💅🏽✨

Nobora brought a bunch of her beauty masks for Itadori and Megumi and would invite you “You should really take a break!”

Before you can respond Gojo replies, “You’re too kind Nobora!” Gojo won’t even be invited, he just hears you’re doing something and wants to tag along.

(He enjoys seeing you frown, He doesn’t verbally express that he enjoys your company, he does it through teasing you)

I know this man has the clearest most well taken care of face ever I just know it. You guys are all doing your own thing, Nobora painting her toes, Itadori delicately placing cucumbers on Megumi’s scrunched up eyes, and you inspecting Gojo’s face.

“Your pores are so small!” You turn his head in your hands, “and no black heads, how is this possible?”

He shrugs as you continue to talk, he doesn’t care about what you put on his face, he just likes having his face held (especially by someone he trusts!!)

He loves being held and touched and scratched so like 😭 while you are brushing his hair back with your hand and putting little clips in? He is in heaven!!!

While you apply the mask, man’s eyes are falling shut cause this is like a face massage!!

He will lean his head into your hand and flutter his eyes open “I’m really pretty.”

I mean,,,, he is right,,,,,You roll your eyes, “Go back to being quiet.”

Would get his nails painted, like a different pastel color with cute little stickers for each finger so he can kill curses with pretty fingers.

You really don’t understand how you two became friends. (You enjoy his fun energy but you would never admit that!!!)

Scary situations!!👻👻

if anything happens you can count on him to protect you!! He will be there for u no matter what!

Idk how but if you took a mission that’s a bit out of your league, give him a call and he will b there in half a second

He will show off so hard in front of you and leave you really shocked then be like “You good?”

“Yeah, you weren’t busy were you?”

“I’m not gonna be too busy for you.” He holds his hand out to help you up as you grin at how cheesy he is. He will def call a ride for you and ride in the back with you.

Will use jokes to make you feel better/ help you deal with whatever was bothering you.

Once you get out the car expect him to give you a hug, you don’t even gotta ask

Like a big long dramatic hug, and he’s so tall so he’s towering over you and it looks cute.

When you’re ready to let go and say, “okay... alright.... see you—“ he only squeezes you when you try to squirm away.

You roll your eyes before resting your head on his chest.

He’ll pat your head before when he’s done.

“Don’t die ok.” You grabbed his sleeve before he could walk away.

“That won’t happen, you don’t die either ok Y/n!” He smiled as you waved him away and went in your house.

He likes being ur friend 😌

392 notes · View notes

avengers-age-of-fanfics · 4 years ago

Text

just for you, honeybee (1/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic!)

word count: 3,172

warnings: a few curse words, bucky being cute, steve being awkward but also a great friend

authors note: hello! this is my first ever post on this account and the first chapter to a new series! im not sure how many chapters this is going to be as i got inspiration to write it a few days ago but im hoping to keep up with it. also, once TFATWS ends, i intend to do a series based on that as well! anywho, i hope you enjoy this and please leave feedback/lmk what i can do to improve! thank u :)

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes laid across from you on your bed, eyes softly glancing over your features as your hand grazed over his cheek and jawline. You chuckled to yourself, “looking a bit scruffy, Buck.”

He hummed, eyes now fluttering closed at your touch, “thought you liked it, doll.”

With a quick kiss to his lips, you nodded, “oh I do, don’t worry – no reason not to, really.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh before he ran a hand over your cheek, “I gotta get goin’ soon, doll. ‘Uniforms at Becca’s.”

With a sigh, you rolled onto your back and stretched, “she’s a saint, you know, washing and steaming your uniform for you.”

Bucky nodded in agreement with you, “that I do know, honeybee. I’ll meet you at Stevie’s, yeah?”

As you got out of your shared bed, you looked back at Bucky, “of course! Gotta see you off before you go put your life on the line, no big deal.” Bucky quickly dropped the conversation immediately after, understanding how you're feeling.

You weren’t mad at Bucky for joining the army – you couldn’t be, it wasn’t his fault. He was drafted and you knew that if he could stay, he would; and you knew you were being slightly immature about him leaving. You just wanted more time with him. So many people you knew had received letters that their loved ones hadn’t come back, that they had died in battle. It wasn’t fair, but when was life perfectly balanced?

By the time you got changed and got yourself cleaned up, Bucky was straightening out his shirt before he turned towards you, eyes hesitant. You walked to him, buttoning up his final buttons before you ran your hands over his shirt, “I’ll see you soon, Buck, okay?”

Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, “I know, honeybee. Try to keep Steve out of trouble for the time being, okay?”

You laughed, “I’ll certainly try my best – now get outta here!” With a smack to his ass, Bucky gave you one last kiss before he headed out the door to see his sister, Rebecca. You had asked her to iron Bucky’s uniform before he got sent off to war, wanting him to look his best – but you were sure he would look handsome in anything.

Looking in the mirror, you straightened out your favorite belted Peter Pan collar dress, fit with a pair of white heels; only the best for your Buck. You had begged him multiple times to let you register to become a nurse, in the slight chance of being close to him, but he always responded with the same answer: “I want to make sure I have someone to come home to, doll.”

You’d never tell him, but your heart warmed every time he said that.

Doing one more look-over, you smiled to yourself, grabbing your purse as you headed out the door. Steve’s apartment was only a few blocks away from your own, and honestly, you wanted to spend more time with him before Bucky left. The two were inseparable, and you knew Steve was going to struggle with Bucky being gone – that, and the unknowing if he’ll come back.

With sharp and prideful steps, you made your way across the street, saying hello to familiar faces and grabbing a newspaper from Grover, a vendor along the streets of Brooklyn. He stopped you before you headed off, “heard your boy’s goin’ off to war, y/n. How ya doin’?”

With a soft chuckle, you glanced down at the newspapers in your hands – one for you, Steve, and Bucky while he was on the train. You looked back at Grover, “I could be better, if I’m being honest. But I know he’s doing a good thing, so my silly feelings shouldn’t hold him back, Grove.”

Grover grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “you and your selflessness, just like ya ma. I’m telling yous, y/n, that boy loves you to the moon and back. Ain’t nothing he wouldn’t do for ya; if you asked him to stay, he’d go and fake his death to make sure you two go runnin’ off into the sunset together.”

With a laugh, you pushed the tears back, “and I love him too, Grove – but I can’t ask him to just not go. That just isn’t how it is, you know?”

Grover nodded, “yeah, kid, I know. . .Now get lost, I got customers to deliver these too.”

You glanced down at the stack of newspapers, “I’m headed over to Steve’s, anyone near his you gotta drop them off to?”

The vendor let out a hum and rested his head in his palm, “hmm, I think just Richie and Betty Davis right next to Rogers’ place. They get two, you good carryin’ an extra bundle?”

You gave Grover a look as he held up his hands, “just as fierce as ya mama, too – and being Barnes’ girl, probably the wrong question to ask.”

With a laugh, you held out your stack of papers, “pile them on, Gro. I’ll see you later, alright?” The vendor nodded and shoo’ed you away as you continued your journey to Steve’s apartment. Once you arrived, you left two newspapers on his neighbor’s doorstep, knocking once as you crossed back over to Steve’s.

As the Davis’ door opened, you knocked on Steve’s, already hearing rustling inside. Betty was at her door, “y/n? That you, sweetheart?”

With a turn, you greeted Mrs. Davis with a smile, “hi Mrs. Davis, how are you? How are the kids?”

The woman smiled back, “’mm, they’re good – always askin’ when the next batch of those delicious brownies are coming!”

You laughed and noticed Steve had opened the door, small statute waiting until you were done talking with Betty, “I’ll drop them by the next time I get to bakin’, Mrs. Davis. I’ll see you!” You waved to her, as did Steve, as he stepped aside to let you in.

Steve looked at the newspapers, then back at you, “you look great, y/n. . . Looks like I’ll be tellin’ Buck to shut his mouth when he sees you.”

You chuckled, “’cus he’ll catch flies or the obscenities he’ll be sayin’?”

Steve let out a laugh, “both, definitely both.”

Now that you both were in the safehouse of his apartment, you finally got a good look at your little army-hopper. He spotted a new black eye and a small cut on his cheek, yet he still looked as if he could go again if he wanted to. You nodded towards him, “where’d you get into a scuffle at this time?”

He shifted his feet until he let out a sigh, “behind a theatre. They were showin’ commercials for the army and some guy just started saying stuff.”

With a bite of your cheek, you sat down on one of his chairs, “so you had to fight him?”

“Just gotta be one of the good guys in the neighborhood, y/n.”

“I know, Stevie.”

An hour had passed and, in the meantime, you and Steve enjoyed some tea and tried to complete your own crossword puzzles. A small conversation had taken place between the two of you, talking about plans once Bucky was off fighting the war. You had talked about Steve moving in with you, but he was always so stubborn, wanting to prove that he could live on his own. You never thought that he couldn’t, but it could be a money saver.

One more glance at the clock, you figured it would be almost time for Bucky to show up. And, just like that, a knock was heard from the door and you smiled, getting up to answer it as Steve stayed back, grumbling at the pieces of paper in his hands. Opening the door, you saw your James Buchanan Barnes standing tall and proud in his new uniform.

Bucky whistled, glancing over your outfit as you did the same to him, “you look gorgeous, honeybee – even though I told you to not dress up.”

He stepped inside the apartment as you crossed your arms, “I mean, Steve agrees that this is kind of a big deal, so I think a nice dress will suffice.”

Steve and Bucky clasped hands and Bucky nudged his shoulder, “thought you were supposed to be a good influence on my girl, Steve.”

The smaller man shrugged, “kind of is a big deal.”

Bucky shuffled his feet, “yeah, well, I don’t want it to be. Let’s just go to the future and then see me off, alright?” The three of you stood in silence, light tension hanging in the air. With a sigh, you grabbed your purse, “well, off we go! C’mon now, boys.”

Bucky, you, and Steve headed to New York World’s Fair, hooked arms leading towards Howard Stark’s Expo. With bright lights, fireworks, and amazing technology surrounding you, your eyes failed to see Bucky staring at you with so much adoration. He never wanted to leave you – he’d stay if he could – but he had been drafted. All he wanted to do was stay in Brooklyn with you and Steve, and just never leave your arms. Hell, really, wherever you went, he went.

But that wasn’t the case in this scenario.

With a hand on your waist, Bucky looked up at Stark’s presentation of his repulsor technology with a flying car, head shaking in disbelief. While his car may have only hovered for a few seconds, the idea of not even needing to touch the ground to drive absolutely boggled your mind. During the presentation, Steve glanced up at you two and silently snuck off, hoping you didn’t notice his absence for too long. But he knew you and how observant and protective you were.

However, once you glanced around after a few minutes and found Steve in front of an army poster within the United States Armed Services Recruitment center. Squeezing Bucky’s hand, you slightly pulled him towards where Steve was, trying his best to fit his head within the frame.

With a slight push of his shoulder, Bucky nodded his head towards the Expo, “come on, we’re goin’ dancing – and hopefully find yourself a girl.”

Steve shook his head, “you – uh – you go ahead, I’ll catch up later.” He looked around, trying to divert the conversation between him and his best friend.

“Steve,” you started, “please? Just this one night?”

Bucky held your hand as he looked back at Steve, “you’re really gonna do this again?”

“I just – guys, it’s a fair, I’ll try my luck,” he started, looking between you both.

Beside you, you felt Bucky grow agitated, “that’s who, Steve from Ohio?”

“Bucky,” you said, squeezing his hand once more, “let him try one more, okay? We can go dancing and Steve will catch up later. If he doesn’t, I’ll hang his head on my wall like a prize.”

The boys let out a chuckle as Steve continued, “one last time, alright? I promise I’ll come later on – Mac’s, right?”

You nodded your head as Bucky sighed beside you, “don’t think you got to prove anything, Steve.” A small pause came over the three of you as Bucky continued, “don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

You started to walk back with Bucky, letting go of his hand as he continued his conversation with Steve as he let out a small laugh, “how can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” You held up a finger at Steve, “you better mean that about himself, Rogers.”

Steve held up his hands, “yes ma’am! And Bucky –“

Bucky turned around once more to his best friend, “don’t win the war until I get there.” With a mock salute, Bucky dragged you back towards the Expo as you waved back at Steve, making sure he’d meet you at the bar before your boyfriend was shipped off.

With a sigh, Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he kissed your head, “that punk is gonna get himself in all loads of trouble, honeybee.”

You held his hand that was around your shoulder, “I’ll keep Stevie in his place. Seriously, Buck, try not to worry about him.”

“I just,” Bucky gripped your hand, “I don’t wanna come back to nothing, you know? Steve’s my best friend and if he somehow gets himself killed here or in the war, I don’t know what I’d do.”

You pulled Bucky to a stop, putting your hands on his cheeks, “James, look at me, please.” With soft eyes, Bucky looked into yours, “I promise you, Steve is going to be okay – he won’t do anything stupid, at least without me. We’re going to be okay, and you will, too. . .’cus if you aren’t, I may go and kill Hitler myself.”

Bucky chuckled, “I don’t doubt that for a minute, sweetheart. I love you, you know that, right?”

You leaned up, kissing Bucky softly before pulling back, hands tight on your waist, “I love you too. Now C’mon, I wanna go to Mac’s and celebrate my newfound freedom.”

Bucky groaned and pulled you even closer, “maybe I should tell Steve to keep an eye on you.”

With a mock salute of your own, you giggled at your boyfriend, “aye, sir, my new mission is to protect Steven Grant Rogers from being an idiot!”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, “toughest job in this whole war, honeybee.”

As the night continued on, Steve actually showed up to Mac’s and had a new look in his eyes.

‘Hmm,’ you thought to yourself, ‘looks like I gotta ask him about something later.’

Steve, you, and Bucky didn’t drink, but instead enjoyed each other’s company before Buck was shipped off; this really only included Bucky and Steve making fun of each other and you keeping the boys in line. Laughs and a few smacks on the head filled the atmosphere, but you knew it wouldn't last long.

By the time it was nearing close to Bucky’s train departure, the three of you took to the streets and headed to the train station, silence enveloping you. Bucky’s hand was wrapped tightly around yours as you dreaded this goodbye, even if you had high hopes he’d return to you and Steve.

At the sight of the train and fellow troops heading into their cabins, Bucky turned to Steve, “you take care of yourself, alright punk? I don’t want any letters from my girl telling me that you’ve been actin’ out.”

Steve shoved his shoulder, “you’re acting like I’m 12 years old again. I’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, but looked to his best friend, “and Steve?”

Steve held his breath but let go, “yeah, Bucky?”

“Please take care of her.”

Steve glanced back at where you stood, picking your nails as your anxiety was pricking at your skin. He nodded, “I will.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief, “thank you, pal. I love her, so make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid either, okay?” Steve nodded in response.

Bucky then headed over to where you were standing, his eyes raking over your beautiful dress, your heels, and most importantly, your face. He did not want to forget a single thing about you or your features – he wanted them committed to memory. With a gentle hand, Bucky tilted your chin up towards him, “you alright, honeybee?”

You nodded, too afraid to use your voice as tears flooded your eyes. Trying to dry them up anyway, you nodded once more, unable to look at Bucky. He sighed, “c’mere, sweet girl, I got you.”

With no hesitation, you fell into Bucky’s arms, tears threatening to fall as you felt his hands rest upon your back and your head. You sniffled, “I’m going – I’m going to miss you so much, Jamie – so, so much.”

Bucky kissed your head, “I’m gonna miss you too, sweetheart. Don’t you dare think that I won’t for a second. You’ll be the first thing on my mind every second of the day.”

You breathed, “can living through this war be the first thing on your mind? And maybe completing a crossword puzzle?"

Bucky let out a small laugh but held you tighter, “just for you, honeybee.” Pulling back, he wiped away stray tears that threatened to fall from your eyes, a soft smile on his face. “You’re gonna be alright, and I’ll be comin’ home to you in no time.”

You nodded, a few tears slipping free from your eyes as you looked up at Bucky, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks and light stubble. You slowly traced over his lips, his nose, and his eyebrows, committing everything about him to memory. With a small smile, you leaned up, catching him in a kiss once more, “stay safe, you hear me? And take this damn thing with you - maybe you'll complete it." With gentle hands, you handed him the newspaper you had gotten today.

He carefully took the newspaper from you, already hoping the crossword puzzle would be easy this time around. Then, Bucky pecked your lips before he headed towards the train, “gotta come back for my best girl. I love you!”

As he stepped onto the train and hung out the window of a cabin, he continued yelling, “I love you, y/n l/n! I love you!”

You cried, a bright smile on his face, “I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes!” Blowing kisses towards him, both you and Steve watched as the train slowly started to pull away, seeing him mindlessly hand his ticket to the worker, not bothering to tear his eyes away from you or his best friend.

“I love you!” he shouted once more, all before his train sped up, leaving you and Steve behind on the platform.

Wiping your eyes and your nose with a cloth, you cleared your throat and turned to Steve, “gah, sorry. Let’s uhm – do you want to head back to my place?”

Steve nodded towards you, “yeah, yeah that sounds good. You alright?” He hooked your arm with his as you headed out of the station, continuing to wipe your eyes. “Yeah,” you started, “I’m okay. I knew this was coming. . . I guess I just hated the whole ‘saying goodbye,’ you know?”

Your best friend rubbed the back of his neck, “I get it, y/n, but he’ll come back – he has a reason to, and that’s you.”

Your heart fluttered, and tears welled up in your eyes once more. With a quick sniffle, you reached into your purse and grabbed your key, unlocking your door to your apartment. Once inside, you quickly got to making tea for you and Steve, something to get your minds off of your missing puzzle piece.

Once tea was made and you both were sitting in your living room, you turned to him, “tell me, Stevie. Please.”

Steve looked at you, a confused look etched upon his face, “tell you what?”

You leaned back into your chair, picking at your nails once more, “what happened at the recruitment office? I’ve known you long enough to see that there’s something you’re not telling me, there’s something in your eyes, Stevie, so please, just tell me.”

Steve seemed shocked that you were able to read him like that, but was defeated. With a sigh, he turned and reached into his handbag, pulling out a file, “there was this Doctor there, Doctor Erskine, who uh – he approved me for the army, y/n. But it’s for an experiment, something they call a super-soldier experiment, I’m not sure. But, I’m going – I leave in a couple days.”

How is your world falling apart this quickly?

170 notes · View notes

un2-verse · 4 years ago

Text

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (2)

pairing: taehyung x f reader

genre: horror au, yandere au, saw/john kramer au

synopsis: News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right?

warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughs, abusive relationships, stalking etc. dont read if triggered. there are some ?? fucked up things in this but idk what to word them. but also mentions of self harm/self hating thoughts.

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: unedited so pls forgive me for any mistakes and lmk if u want to be added to a taglist^^

series masterlist

part one part three

You’d spent a couple of hours in the café with Taehyung. Jimin popped over every now and then to talk with his best friend and to make sure you had everything you needed while there.

When you left, Jimin wrapped his arms around you as he bid his farewell, “It was lovely to meet you Y/N! Please, don’t be a stranger!” You simply nodded your head as you pulled away from the hug. You grinned back at him as he moved to Taehyung. You opened the door, carefully stepping outside to leave the boys with some privacy.

Once the door shut Jimin’s smile beamed, “so she’s the girl you’re always talking about, Flower? Right?”

“Yeah she is, thanks for that though man but, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later?”

Taehyung smiled as he made his way towards you, you looked up and he swore, he saw a hint of nervousness in your eyes, probably because it’s dark, he thought to himself. “Come on then, let’s get you home.” He held out his hand, you were quick to grab a hold of it. Taehyung intertwined your fingers as he tugged you back across the road, “it’ll take about twenty minutes, you gonna be alright to walk?” he glanced down to you.

Your heart warmed at the way his eyes smiled with him, “I’ll be fine, thank you.” He seemed happy enough with your answer as you fell into a steady rhythm. You felt a little conflicted, you may not know Taehyung well but he had an energy about him that made you wanna spill every secret you knew, you’d shared pointless stories while you were at the café, having learnt Taehyung was a family oriented person, he loved art and he was passionate about little subjects other people would deem small. Yet he had a warmth that you’d not seen in anyone else.

Fuck it, you thought, he’s shown nothing but kindness, you may aswell open upto him… atleast.

“I was in an abusive relationship.” Taehyung felt himself smirk but quickly wiped it from his face, he arched an eyebrow as he looked down to you, “it was my first too. It left me, fucked up, in a way. Not that I wasn’t already fucked up.” Progress. He squeezed your hand in reassurance, go on… “I’ve always been insecure and uh, uncomfortable with the way I look. After that disaster of a relationship, it left me worse for wear.” you kept your eyes on the road, you didn’t want to see the judgement on his face yet it didn’t stop you from carrying on, “I never told my friends or family about it. None of them knew I was struggling before it anyway so I’ve been letting it tear me apart.”

“Why tell me then doll?”

You risked a glance at his face. There were no traces of judgement or pity. Swallowing down your nerves, you added softly, “I had to tell someone. Even if that someone is a random person— who showed me kindness when I needed it.”

Taehyung felt his heart clench, she’s already trusting me… this was easier than I thought. “Don’t feel like you need to tell me anything baby,” I already know it all.

You felt your cheeks burn from the pet name, how could something so simple, affect you this much? God, talk about a schoolgirl crush. “That’s the thing, I don’t feel like I need to. I just, I want to.”

Taehyung presented you with his boxy grin, “Then you can tell me anything you want, whether it's big or small.”

“Thank you Taehyung.” It was like the sun had shone down on you, the simplest gesture meant the world. Here you had a person willing to talk to you about your darkest secrets. A person willing to listen. Someone who had no ties to your family, which made it easier for the words to flow from you, “It’s like, I was this happy, care-free kid. I smiled without forcing it and when I laughed… I felt free. I didn’t feel like I was losing my breath. Not like I do now, everytime I do so much as breathe, it's like these roots have twisted around my lungs and everytime a breath escapes, they crush them tighter. It’s like a reminder. You’re never fully alive. You’re never fully happy. Pain overrides any other emotion. I’ve learned that, after all those years. I used to think, I’d never accept it.” A solemn silence fell over you. The roots squeezed your lungs even tighter as you whispered, “I’m scared of living.”

“Flower, some people are anchored to this world by their feet, others by their fears. You don’t have to voice it, I know you’re scared. You have your fears. Your demons. The thing you were doing at the cafe; is destructive. Anything that harms you, is destructive. Fuck, it may only be something as simple as picking your skin but that can lead into bigger things.”

It already has.

“Taehyung, I know that. I knew when it started but it helps, it lessens my anxiety. You’re the only one to have picked up on it. My friends… they don’t notice. If they do, they don’t mention it.”

Taehyung scoffed, “You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?”

Your mouth was sewn shut. You didn’t want to admit it but, there was some truth to his words.

You walked home in silence.

That night haunted you. It forced its way into your dreams. It clouded your thoughts when Yoongi and Hoseok were with you. When you’d spent time together, you were vacant. A soulless body. It was like a poison had found its way into your brain, second guessing relationships and people’s motives.

‘You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?’

Why were you letting it get in your head so much? You knew your friends. They were the only ones you felt safe with. They were your friends for a reason, they supported you (albeit sometimes they had a sense of… tough love) but they always had your back.

You didn’t mention Taehyung to Yoongi or Hoseok. You felt as though that was something that should be kept between you and him. Plus, the duo would’ve felt betrayed and upset by the fact you had wandered into foreign territory alone and found company in a complete stranger-- especially after they’d warned you about the whole Jigsaw shit.

To save the arguments, you went about your life as usual. You helped out your Mum with the flower shop, the array of flowers made you realise how the simplest things were beautiful. That of course, didn’t include yourself. Rancid thoughts clouded what was once, a tranquil space. Those god forsaken roots hadn’t lessened. Breathing was still difficult— as was pretending that you were absolutely fine.

You avoided mirrors, a quick glance could wreck your entire mood. You hated people taking photos of you, it made you scrutinise every single thing.

My nose is too big.

My chin is too round.

My face just shouts ugly.

My legs are disgusting.

My stomach is embarrassing.

My boobs are weird.

Not to say, you didn’t have these thoughts on the regular. However, the more you eluded your appearance, the voices lessened. You could ignore the way you looked, forget it completely. Often convinced yourself you were a plain person. The stereotypical norm: someone that no one would look twice at. It helped you get on with everyday tasks, it helped you ease the anxiety.

After all, every flower must grow through dirt.

But how would you react? If you knew, he had all the pictures of you?

Tuesdays you worked at your Dad’s garage. You didn’t know much about cars but you enjoyed his company. As well as spending time with Hobi and Yoongi. You often found yourself pranking the former with Yoongi, little jokes that luckily, didn’t piss Hobi off too much.

Today though, you were late. You’d had to spend more time trying to find the more appropriate clothing… you didn’t want people to see the slashed lines of red that littered your body.

After you messily threw an outfit together, you made your way down to the garage. You found your eyes trained on the silver Nissan Skyline, mouth agape as you collided into something.

You felt hands grab your shoulders, “Watch where you’re going,” Yoongi brought his hands to ruffle your hair, “gotta be careful while we’ve got that here kidda. That fuckers expensive.” He released a chuckle as you rolled your eyes, softly elbowing him out the way.

Your dad was under the bonnet, a box of tools were scattered around his feet. Organised mess, your Dad was infamous for it.

“Sorry I’m late Pops, what do you want me to do?”

Not even a second later, your Dad turned to face you, “Ah darling, not a lot while we’re working on this. Can you go make us some drinks?”

“Yeah course, I won’t be too long!”

You passed Hoseok on your way to the little kitchen situated at the back, he sent you a wink as he shouted across, “Coffee for me kidda!”

Three cups were spread in front of you. Americano for Yoongi, Coffee for Hobi and Cappuchino for Pops. Just as you were about to shout the guys, a presence had situated itself comfortably behind you. Before you had time to turn around, a deep baritone voice addressed you, “You not gonna ask me if I want a cup baby?”

You felt yourself still. You knew that voice. The voice that was haunting your dreams, even your wake.

You really think anyone on this planet is your friend?

Taehyung watched the way your body tensed, your shoulders stiffened, your breathing altered. Hm, she’s nervous. How cute.

“What are you doing here?” the words passed your lips, delivered as though they were encased in thorns.

A deep chuckle filled the room, “What do you think I’m doing here?” Taehyung inched closer, the atmosphere was almost palpable. You felt the way his chest brushed against your back, a sudden chill shot through you as he brought his hand up— which grazed against your skin whilst he moved your hair from your neck. His eyes turned hungry at the sight of your goosebumps. Your heart raced when he brought his head lower, lips next to your ear, “You think I’m here for you baby?” I am… but you don’t need to know that just yet.

You spun around, squashed between the table and Taehyung. Heat radiated off of him, how can he be so hot? It felt like you were in a furnace (while face to face with the Devil.)

Fear stricken, you tried to fight through it. Don’t show him. Don’t let him see. With a sarcastic smile plastered on your face you retorted, “Of course you are Taehyung. You tracked me down using the information I gave you and figured out which Garage is ours.”

The sarcasm was practically dripping from your tone like venom. Taehyung felt himself stifle a laugh.

You just didn’t know. In all fairness, you didn’t know anything. How would you know that Taehyung had done exactly that, except he’d done it months prior.

He lowered his head to yours, your hands raised to push him away but Taehyung wrapped his fingers around each wrist and tugged them to lay between you before you even had the chance to nudge him. You felt like you were stuck in a Venus fly trap.

“I’m not some type of sicko, doll.”

You were just a naive, misunderstood, little girl.

“I’m getting my car fixed. Your dad’s working on it right now.”

Your body visibly relaxed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Oh, the Skyline? Wait, you have a car and made us walk back to mine the other week?”

“I didn’t make you walk for the fun of it baby, my car is literally in the shop so obviously it was broken.”

Only, the car was perfectly fine when you met him those weeks ago. He had made the pair of you walk so he’d have more of a chance to speak to you and to touch you. The only way he could follow you around without being suspicious, especially at your dads work, was to have a somewhat reasonable excuse (which resulted in him messing with the engine). He knew although you’d shied away from him that night, he could easily win you back around.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Taehyung. I’m also uh, sorry about how that night ended.”

“Don’t sweat it, I know what I said came off a little... weird but I didn’t mean any harm.”

With an angelic smile on your face in return, Taehyung knew that soon, that smile would morph into a grateful one. After all, he was going to help you.

Until a person is faced with death, it’s impossible to tell whether they have what it takes to survive.

Live or Die.

Your choice.

He had first seen you out and about last year. However, he had first heard of you when the guys working for him had slammed a file onto his desk, Subject #13 was scrawled on the top. Filled to the brim with pictures of you and everything about your life down to the littlest detail.

L/N Y/N— D.O.B 03.11.02— 19 years old.

Phone number: XXXXX.XXXXX

Female. Lives with parents at: 171 Norm Street, Falfield F91 7DW. Was outcasted at school but befriended a Jeon Jeongguk [19 years, male. 92 Carriers Road, Cressage CY5 3EA. XXXXX.XXXXX].

Ex partner is Kang Jaehyo. [23 years. Male. Abusive and manipulative, laid his hands on Y/N multiple times leaving bruises and scars. Sexual abuse was also discovered. Have been broken up for 4 months. 13 Walkers Drive, Falfield, F73 1DL XXXXX.XXXXX]

Y/N has suicidal ideations (as well as 7 attempts). Self harms by “cutting” “punching” and “scratching”. Diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety Disorder on May 13th 2016. Works at Toret Garage and Letty’s Floral. Both places owned by parents.

The web of lies and deceit had barely scraped the surface.

195 notes · View notes