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shotorozu · 4 years ago

Note

hello!! i saw that your requests were open and wanted to ask if you could do single dad! atsumu suna and sakusa falling in love with reader, like it's sort of a meet cute (or not) but the reader falls for them and the kid and happiness lskfjsdfk have a great day!!

single dad! falling for reader

character(s) : miya atsumu, suna rintarou, sakusa kiyoomi (haikyuu!!)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, timeskip au! (because,, single dads.)

headcanon type : fluff, crack and angst if you squint (x reader)

warning(s) : mentions of the character’s ex wives, the ex-wives being jerks for multiple different reasons and ways (so,, be warned. for negligence, not very detailed hitting, and cheating, but not on reader)

note(s) : me, writing for haikyuu?? wow, a surprise! also, it’s been a while since i’ve written for haikyuu so if i don’t get the characterization correctly— ESPECIALLY FOR SAKUSA, i’m sorry in advance.

»»————-　♡　————-««

miya atsumu

at first, his marriage was happy. miya atsumu— successful in his 20s, basically set for life, and with a head strong wife that gave him a wonderful daughter

he was elated when his son, genji came into this world. he wouldn’t swap him out for anyone else. and it was all good, really

until he started spotting marks on genji’s delicate skin, and he even found a large bruise on his shoulder when he was changing his shirt! he almost passed away seeing that

genji would also have a sudden fear of being alone in the house— even when his mother would stay behind to take care of him

but why though? genji’s only 4! what could’ve happened to him? he doesn’t recall hiring any babysitters.

he finally found the answer one day, when he found out that his head strong, intense wife— has been physical with him!

basically, all the love for his wife flew out the window, and he filed for a divorce— and of course, he won custody

and he assumed that his love life would stop at that— and it didn’t sound terrible. all that mattered was that his son was safe, and happy again

but this is where you come in

you work at a toy store, a small business toy store really, that sold the highest of quality only

and atsumu took genji to either replace, or fix the toy he broke a few days back. the place was recommended to him by shoyo— who also had a kid of his own

you’re just two years younger than him, eyes full of determination and care, practically the complete opposite of his ex-wife.

you put up a good conversation with him, while you fixed the toy— the two of you talking about the mutual friends, and that ‘this place should be a lot more popular.’

and also, his son did happen to take a liking to you. he seemed joyous in your presence— compared to how he was with his ex-wife

and from that moment on, the two of you would only become closer— especially when a bunch of his son’s toys started breaking magically

before atsumu knew it, he harbored something for you— the absolute angel you were to the both of them

“‘m sorry for the inconvenience,” the faux blond scratches the back of his next “didn’t know genji here was a ‘lil clumsy weasel,”

you laugh, and genji’s just staring at you with amusement, “it’s fine, genji could break his entire toy box— and i’d still fix it anyway.”

so this was the nerve wracking part, “to make up for it, would you like some coffee later? i could treat ‘ya.”

“is this yer way of askin’ Y/N—”

“shut yer mouth for a sec— uhm,” he looks at you, sheepishly

you laugh, “miya, i wouldn’t mind honestly. but i’d assume you’re busy as it is.”

“not at all!” atsumu replies, “i’ll just, drop off genji first. say yer thanks to Y/N,” atsumu looks at genji, encouraging him to say his thanks

“,,thanks for fixing my toys, Y/N.”

“no problem, genji.” you smile at the two of them when they move to leave the store, fixed toys in hand— as they wave at you before parting

“oh, Y/N?” atsumu calls out,

“yeah?”

“call me atsumu— from now on.” his cheeks are tinted pink, and he can feel genji’s eyes on him.

“oh, uhm. yeah! i’ll see you later, atsumu.”

so yeah— the two of you went out for some coffee, and before he even knew it, he was in love.

it might take him a few months to realize it though

suna rintarou

i can’t imagine him having kids for some reason 💀 but if he were to have any, he’d definitely have a daughter

rintarou himself, didn’t think he would have kids at at all, really. but the moment he was able to meet asuka— his lovely little daughter

he was hooked. he seemed a little awkward at first, not very used to caring for a child. but he was actually decent at his job

he’d sneak into his daughter’s room to hold her when she was upset— even when his wife was too knocked out to realize it, and he’d show her picture books

since she liked them a lot, even when she can’t coherently read a straight paragraph yet.

it started to concern him when he realized how little his wife was involved in the development of their daughter.

she started acting different, a little bit after she didn’t have to breastfeed asuka

and then, that’s when it happened.

“i literally can’t believe you,” he speaks when he’s packing his things, “we have a child together.”

his soon to be ex wife is on the floor, begging him to stay— but he doesn’t care. “look, the idea of you cheating wasn’t very surprising. i don’t care anymore, really. but the fact that you’ve been neglecting asuka for your selfish needs is low. i hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”

his words are so much different that his lenient, calm self. which only solidifies reality

so he leaves with asuka, not caring about the sobs that left his soon to be ex wife’s mouth.

and even though he was still angry at his wife for not being there, he’d never let it show to asuka

he’d still show her picture books, he’d still sit down and watch miraculous ladybug with her— even when she doesn’t understand it all completely

and speaking of picture books— he decided that he needed to buy more for her

so he took her to the bookstore, and he didn’t really know what he was doing. he bought all those previous books when asuka was still a newborn

now it’s a little fuzzy on what he should be looking for. colors, right? he needs a picture book that has plenty of colors.

and that’s where you come in. you’re youthful, despite looking not that far off his age, you’re humming to yourself as you fix the bookshelves

“uhm,” he calls out for your help, and you look at him in recognition “need any help? what are you looking for?”

there’s a helpful glint in your eyes, and it reminded him of what should’ve been in his ex wife’s eyes. “my daughter, likes picture books. and,, i don’t know what i’m doing.”

she’s basically a replica of him, same eye color, and same hair color. but her eyes are much more rounded, youthful.

“cute kid,” you smile when she coos at you, “the children books are this way, follow me!” you exclaim, moving to navigate your way to the children’s book isle

so it seems to be that you really know what you’re doing. most people would’ve recommended picture books with a lot of words, or just no words at all

but you’ve found the books that made asuka exclaim in happiness.

and although it’s not very obvious that rintarou’s caring to his child— he is, and you could tell. despite looking lost, and sometimes bored when you’re explaining the books.

so every 2 weeks, the father would return with his daughter, after he got back from volleyball— and you’d help them pick out on certain books.

rintarou assumed he’d never take a liking in anyone again, but,, here he is. and he doesn’t know how you’ll react to that.

but it’s worth a try— he’d try and get your number when he’d see you again

the next time you see him, the middle blocker’s alone. and he tells you that he needs more picture books for asuka, since she’s staying over at his volleyball friend’s house for a day

“Y/N,”

“yes?” you turn your head, meeting his stare. he looks well,, himself. like how he first sought out for your help a few weeks back

“,, could i get your number? y’know, just in case asuka wanted worded books in the future. you’ve helped a lot, so,,”

you smile, “is this your way of hitting on me?”

he didn’t think it was that obvious, “what?— i mean,” he fumbles to reason out, feeling a bit more awkward. because yes, he’s asking you out but,, he has the power to make things more laxed, y’know?

truthfully, you don’t know much about him. you know a lot about his daughter, sure! but you don’t know anything about her biological mother, or what happened, or why she’s not taking asuka to the bookstore

but you chose not to ask, out of respect. he’d tell you some other day. “i’m just teasing,” you smile, moving to get a small piece of paper— writing your digits on the paper, and placing it in his pocket

“i’d like to see you again,” you smile, “say hi to asuka for me.”

the middle blocker left the store in content, absolutely sure that asuka would love to see you again even when she can’t form proper sentences.

sakusa kiyoomi

didn’t think he’d be fit to be a father— but here he is

though he seems cold, he does take responsibility, and he does love and care for his child, seina

it’s not like he’ll be posting pictures of his child everywhere— i mean, even if he had a different personality, he still wouldn’t be posting his kid everywhere

but he does cherish seina, like his life depended on it. he’d still silently watch her cross out word puzzles in a messy matter, he’d silently listen to her talk about her favorite pastries

he loves her!

so that’s why it made him mad, when even after 4 years of seina being born, her mother made little to no effort in spending time with her

doesn’t matter if it was a simple gesture like tucking her in, or showing up to a birthday— she just,, never did.

it was almost as if she was ignoring seina, which causes some distraught on the child’s behalf— which passed on the negative feeling to him

like,, seina wasn’t an unbearable kid. sure, she acted up here and there, that’s an issue kiyoomi has been trying to fix on his own

but it was nothing too concerning, and it was containable. but his wife treated her like she was absolutely unbearable

and it was super strange because, she’d act normal around him, but would barely acknowledge her own daughter’s existence

so what did kiyoomi do? he confronted her, of course.

and no— his wife wasn’t cheating, and nothing tragic happened that would’ve caused her to be this way

she was just,, lazy

“so.. you gave birth and stopped caring for her? is that it?” furious was an understatement, considering that his wife forgot to make her daughter breakfast

which caused her to sneak out of the house, and ask for some breakfast from some nice neighbors.

“look, if you want nothing to do with her, just say that. i’m taking seina, and leaving.” so yeah now he’s a single father.

to say he didn’t love her was too quick, a part of him didn’t love the fact that his wife loved him, but didn’t show any sign of affection towards her daughter.

he knew it was going to fade away anyway. his feelings for his unofficial ex wife.

and i don’t think he’d plan on seeing new people, since now these days— people just like the idea of being with him

which meant that most people would’ve been scared away, or turned off if they really sat down in a conversation with him

besides the point, kiyoomi was taking his daughter to the bakery again— as she was craving new pastries, and wanted to go to the new bakery that just opened near by

and kiyoomi was like “why not ig” and took her there— but then, this is where he’d meet you for the first time

you were one of the bakers, and it’s not like he was going to pay attention to you— until you did something even HE couldn’t do

“papa, whyyyy” the whining sounding painful in his ears, as his daughter clung to the display of pastries “can’t we get moreeee??”

“seina,” he sighs, “no, we can’t.”

“but—”

“papa, you’re no fair!” her bottom lip trembles, and he could almost FEEL the judgmental stares of the other customers in the bakery

and this is where you come in, “is something the matter?”

“papa won’t.. get me more!” she stares at the selection of pastries, “i’ve been so nice but.. it’s no fair!” her eyes tear up

“don’t cry,” you bend down to blot her tears away with a tissue, “y’know, he probably has a reason, but you’re in luck— actually!” you maneuver behind the counter

you come out from behind, presenting a fresh batch of pastries— that were just right to his daughter’s liking, to the point that it shut her up entirely

“they’re on the house, today’s our opening day, so it’s the bakery’s treat!”you state in a warming matter, grabbing a paper bag to place the pastries in

kiyoomi stares at you, observing you quietly— you could feel his cold stare, even though he’s wearing a medical face mask, that covers about half of his face

you blink, not knowing what is going through his head, and you gesture to his daughter to take them

you clearly don’t know who he is— and that gives kiyoomi some sort of relief, compared to the other customers that are murmuring to each other “sakusa kiyoomi’s here with his daughter! is this what he does in his free time?”

kiyoomi takes the paper bag, giving some sort of non verbal acknowledgement, before he takes his daughter’s hand and leaves

“bye, kind person!” seina calls out to you, which catches you off guard— this causes your coworkers to coo at the girl’s words

“didn’t know sakusa’s daughter was so cute!”

and you’d assume that your interactions with the quiet stranger and his daughter would end at that, but no! life is full of surprises.

the tall masked father comes in again, a little bit before closing time— you were absolutely beat, your back feeling as if boulders were glued to the back, and your feet burning from all of the rush

“oh, what could i do for you?”

he stays quiet, but a small presence sticks behind him, and peers up to you. the face is familiar to you, so you wave “hi there! it’s nice to see you again.”

“i wanna say thanks.” her rounded eyes practically shimmer when they lay themselves on the pastries again, but she shakes her head “for the pastries! they’re very tasty.”

“i’m glad you like them, what was your favorite part of the pastry?”

“the filling! twas yummy!” she gives a toothy grin, “tell me, where ‘dya learn to bake like that?”

kiyoomi stares at the scene unfolding before him. it was.. new. unfamiliar— he hasn’t seen his daughter act like this with anyone else— besides him and his team mates. so, he simply watched.

seina babbled and babbled, much to the your amusement— and the other staff members. you listened to her with your full attention, your interest never wavering in the slightest

it’s a bit later, kiyoomi holds a tired seina in his arms— you expect him to leave the bakery, his daughter’s wishes been fulfilled, and he wouldn’t have a reason to stick around

but then he presents to you a large stack of cash “for the pastries. my,, daughter really liked them.”

your eyes widen, “sir! i told you, the pastries were on the house!” you shake your head, “either way, i can’t take this! it’s too much for some pastries!”

“no, seina insists. in fact, she’s entirely why i’m here.” his tone stays consistent, but even with the mask— you could tell that he’s smiling. “she’s well,, everything. if she’s set on something, then she’ll do everything to achieve her goal.”

you smile at the statement, “thanks for bringing her here sir..?”

kiyoomi hesitates to tell you his name for a moment, an unfamiliar, yet familiar pound in his chest rises— he chooses to not figure it out right now, considering that it would be too soon to pursue a romantic relationship.

but, if his daughter brought him here, then it must be for a reason. “kiyoomi.”

“right,” you smile, “thanks for coming here, kiyoomi. you can give me a call, if seina wants any more pastries.” you write your number on a piece of paper, and hand it to him

he doesn’t reply, but he does take the piece of paper anyway— keeping it in his pocket

and for once, he thinks that he doesn’t hate having to go to the bakery weekly., because there’ll be a warm presence there to greet him— and of course, seina.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own hq!! and it’s characters. haikyuu!! belongs to furudate haruichi, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

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taleasnewastime · 4 years ago

Text

Yes coach

Summary: You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: pwp, smut, Coach!Jungkook

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: Explicit sex content, Safe sex, nipple play, public sex, dirty talk, this is just pure filth so you have been warned

Authors Note: If you squint there is a story here, but it’s only because I had the idea for Jungkook being a coach and the reader having sex with him and I needed to build that before diving straight in. You don’t have to understand the rules of netball to read this, but there may be some things you don’t understand (feel free to ask for any clarifications though). Hope you enjoy this purely indulgent story :)

Your hamstrings ache slightly as you bend down into a lunge. You can feel the stretch in your muscles as they almost protest the move, but you always felt like it was a good ache, not a bad one. One that meant you were about to get hot and sweaty, and though most people probably hated that idea, you loved it. Mainly because it meant that you were about to play netball, and with the new season starting, that was only a good thing.

“It’s not going to go down well if they’re late to the first training session,” Zoe says as she does the same stretch next to you.

Standing up you place your opposite leg in front of you, stretching back out into a lunge.

“Julie will certainly never forget it. They’ll find it hard to come back from a mistake like that so early on,” Beth chips in from the other side of you.

“What is it she always says? Everyone has to be on the same page in a team, even off the court. I think that extends to the coach,” you say as you stand back up to your full height, stretching one of your arms behind your back.

“That definitely extends to the coach,” Zoe says as she stands up next to you, copying your move. “Don’t you remember when Merrill threw that ball last season and it was nowhere near anyone? She was the coach, wasn’t even playing, but Julie seemed to think she should still be able to play like us.”

“I’m not sure. There was also that time that she turned up half drunk, that didn’t go down well with Julie either. I mean it didn’t go down well with anyone. My point being, maybe it was a combination of a bunch of things,” Beth says.

“Well, we have this new person now so it can’t be much worse,” you say.

“Merrill was the one to recommend them, so I think it can be a lot worse,” Zoe shoots back.

Before you can reply, the door to the hall swings open. The room drops in volume as everyone looks to see who's entered. All keen to meet your new coach.

A man in gym shorts that fall to his knees and a loose top, walks in, large duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Even through the baggy top you can see he is well built, though the muscular calves he has poking out of the bottom of his shorts, would be enough to suggest he’s well built on their own.

“Looks like another of the basket cases have got lost again,” you say the words loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, a few chuckles and giggles sound out after the words.

You train weekly in the sports hall, but were regularly interrupted by other groups who seemed to think that they had booked the space. The basketball team had done it enough times now that you had all started nicknaming them the basket cases.

This man does not find the joke funny though. He stands up from where he’s placed his bag on the floor and spins round to look at your team, his eyes finally resting on you.

“Diamonds?” He says your team name and your heart leaps into your throat as a few girls nod at him. “I’m your new coach, Jungkook.”

Well shit. Forget about the coach making a fool of himself on his first training session, you’d just done that to yourself.

You flush, feeling hotter now than you had from doing your warm up. But you keep his eye contact as he holds yours.

“Great to have you on board,” you’re glad your voice doesn’t come out as the squeak you expect it to be given how hard he’s staring you down.

Jungkook merely raises his eyebrows at you, as if he thinks your words a lie. But doesn’t say anything as his eyes finally fall from your face and take in the rest of your team.

“God, I think he could do anything wrong and I’d be the one apologising,” Beth mumbles and you hear Zoe laugh in agreement.

She wasn’t wrong. Jungkook was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen. Why he was coaching a netball team, you had no idea. And how Merrill knew him and thus recommended him, was also another great question you would surely never know the answer to.

“Right then. Let’s all get warmed up,” he claps his hands together as if you haven’t all just been stood around doing just that before he came. “Get going. I want you all to do 5 laps of the court.”

You all stand in slight shock another second or two before Jungkook claps his hands a few more times, and you all spring into action. Jungkook watches you all start your slow jogging for a few seconds before bending down to look through his bag.

“Yes coach,” Zoe snickers now that Jungkook is distracted.

“I think we might have a problem if he keeps snapping at us like that. It’s kind of hot,” Beth mutters as you jog around the court.

She’s not wrong. Even looking at him squatting over his bag makes you feel a bit hot under the collar, but you still felt a bit butt hurt about him catching you out earlier. You should be apologising to him, and maybe you would later, but for now you were going to try and be good and not risk getting into his bad book any more than you already are.

“I’m not so sure. I thought netball was all supposed to be just for fun,” you huff. “5 laps? We’re not the bloody national team. We’re barely the local team.”

“It’s probably just punishment for your earlier comment,” Beth can’t keep the grin off her face as she glances at you.

“It wasn’t even that bad. He’s obviously way too sensitive if -”

“Ladies,” your words are cut off by Jungkooks booming voice. Your head snaps in his direction and he is already looking you dead in the eye, now stood up to his full height, arms crossed over his chest. “If you have time to chat, then you clearly aren’t warming up properly.”

You flush at being the one caught talking, and here you were trying to stay in his good books. So far all you were achieving was him putting a red mark against your name.

Hot, and not because of the warm up, you put your head down. The room now silent you all get into the warm up Jungkook sets out for you.

When practice is over, he simply tells you all that you did a good job and tells you he’ll see you next week before turning back to his bag. You debate whether to say anything to him, to apologise for earlier. But a glance at his back tells you not to bother. It was an hour ago by this point. Nothing else had happened after, he’d probably forgotten all about it.

Feeling shy and a tad anxious you head straight to the changing rooms with all the other girls. Trying to put your worries about having offended or upset Jungkook to the back of your mind.

The following week at training you’re more focused from the start. Your legs are stretched out to the side and your body is bent forward as you lay as flat as you can on the floor when Jungkook walks in.

“Hi everyone,” his loud voice calls out.

You glance up in time to see his eye pause on you, only to quickly look away when he catches your stare. You can’t help the smirk that comes to your face. He was definitely just checking you out.

You go through the same warm up as the previous week, it takes 15 minutes out of the hour session, but at least he’s thorough. You are all certainly warm by the end of it.

“Ok, this week I want to focus more on the actual netball,” Jungkook says as you all gather around him and you shoot a smirk to Beth, realising too late that Jungkook saw you and probably thinks you are mocking him. “Last week was more of an introduction, for me to get to know you, and vice versa” he seems to say the words at you and you flush that he thought your smirk was anything but a joke. “But now I want to see your skills, so that I know where to improve. So, who plays where?”

You all glance around for a second as if unsure of the answer, as if you hadn’t been playing together for years. Then Julie speaks up for you.

“Zoe is shooter, Clare goal attack, Y/N wing attack, Amy is centre, Vicky wing defence, Beth goal defence and I’m keeper,” she lists, pointing at each person as she says their name.

You all nod along to her words as Jungkook watches who Julie points out, doing silent calculations in his mind.

“Is that fixed?” He says when his eyes go back to Julie, as if she is now your spokesperson.

Julie looks around the group as if trying to gauge your reactions and when no one says anything she says, “it’s how we’ve always played.”

Jungkook gives one sharp nod of his head before moving. He paces to his bag, bending down enough to pull out a netball and then turns back to the group.

“I want to check that that’s how you play best. This isn’t a test, it’s merely to check you’re all playing at your best. We’ll play half court and rotate.”

You all look around at each other nervously. As soft as Jungkook could sometimes look, with his baggy clothes and big doe eyes, he was a hard taskmaster, and it seemed when he made a decision it was final.

Though he had assured you that it wasn’t a test or trial, it certainly felt like one. Jungkook watched from the side-line as you played a half-court game, shouting tips at times, and swapping positions whenever he felt. It felt like there was no rhyme or reason to it, but the way he acted it was as if he had some big master plan. By the end everyone had had a go at every position, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so drained after training.

“I won’t keep you much longer, you’ve all worked really well tonight,” Jungkook says as you gather around him at the end. “But, I do want to make some changes to positions.”

The room is silent as you take in the words. Everyone was comfortable where they played, as Julie said, you had played together for years and you all worked well how you played. It made no sense to swap things around.

“Only a minor change, don’t worry,” he carries on, his voice light-hearted as if to ease the tension. “Clare, I want you to be wing attack, Y/N goal attack.”

Your eyes shoot to Clare, hers widen as she looks at you. Then you’re turning back to Jungkook.

“I don’t shoot,” you say.

“You did tonight,” he replies easily.

“Those shots were a fluke. Clare shoots, I don’t.”

“Clare was a good shot, and it’s good to know we can mix things up if we’re struggling in a game. But you’ve got more height, you got the ball in every time. And Clare is smaller and more compact than you, she’s faster on her feet and a better wing attack.”

You don’t know whether to be happy with his assessment or hurt, whether to thank him or slap him. He had simultaneously complimented you and insulted you. Your eyes go back to Clare instead to try and gauge what she thinks of the situation.

“It’s ok,” she says. “I’ve always kind of hated the pressure of shooting.”

You feel like she’s saying it to make you feel better, to avoid confrontation. And it annoys you that Jungkook might be pushing this on the two of you, on your team, when no one wanted it.

“Clares goal attack, I’m wing attack. That’s how we’ve always played,” you turn back to Jungkook to try again.

“It seems things have changed,” he raises his eyebrows at you and the gesture infuriates you. “Well, I said I wouldn’t keep you long. Good practice again tonight ladies, see you all next week.”

And just like that he dismisses you. Chatter starts to fill the air as everyone turns towards the changing rooms. But you stay routed in your spot. Zoe hangs by your side, eyeing you to check you’re ok, but you can only stare at Jungkooks turned back, his own body retreating to his duffle bag by the door.

“I’ll catch up with you,” you say to Zoe before walking towards Jungkook.

You can sense Zoe lingering a moment before she joins all the other girls in the changing room. The chatter starts to get quieter as you and Jungkook are left alone in the room.

“I don’t shoot,” you say to his back.

His back tenses as if he didn’t realise you were stood there, and then he’s turning to face you, a neutral look on his face.

“You do now,” the small, almost arrogant smile on his face seems to add fuel to the fire burning inside you.

“Is this because of last week? Because I should have apologised for that. You shouldn’t punish me or Clare because I was a bit rude to you.”

A small crease appears between his eyes as he looks at you.

“This is because you’re a better goal attack, and Clare is a better wing attack. Nothing else.”

“And if I say I don’t want to change?”

The smirk reappears on his lips at your words and you worry you’ve said something wrong or walked into a trap unknowingly.

“I can give you private lessons if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

You flush at his words. And as much as you want to squirm under his words and gaze, you know that’s exactly what he wants and you won’t give him the satisfaction of achieving it.

“I’m good thanks,” you say curtly, the words and tone only deepening his smirk.

“Then I look forward to seeing you next week, goal attack.”

You work your jaw, annoyed beyond belief. But you also know that you’re obviously not going to get anywhere with him. This was a game for the long road.

“See you next week, coach,” you reply and one of Jungkooks eyebrows raises at the term.

You don’t wait for a reply. Turning on your heels you head to the changing rooms to complain about your coach, and check that Clare really was ok with the change.

It doesn’t take long for actual matches to start. And as much as you hate to admit it, Jungkook was right to make the change. Clare was a more confident wing attack, could easily get the ball down the court and then into the D, and you and Zoe worked well as shooters, supporting each other to get the ball in the hoop.

But you were still nervous. You’d never realised you could shoot until Jungkook pointed it out. And now playing real games against real teams, people marking you when taking the shots, it all felt a lot.

It’s not like you hadn’t played with anyone marking you either. You had played against your own defence in training, but it felt different in a game.

You didn’t lose your first match, but it was with no thanks to you that you won. You missed shots, easy shots that you would have made in training and it knocked your confidence. Even with everyone's praise after the game, you couldn’t get your mistakes out of your head.

Now, about to play your second game, the nerves come back.

“You’ll do good,” Jungkook says beside you, as if reading your mind. “I wouldn’t keep you as goal attack if I didn’t think you could do it.”

His comments mean a lot, but it doesn’t do much to ease your worries.

You feel a bit sick as you walk onto the court. And though they slowly dissipate as you play, whenever you get the ball to shoot, they come flooding back.

You miss several times. It’s only luck that Zoe manages to get the rebound and ultimately shoots the ball in herself. And though you still manage to get more shots in than you miss, it’s still the ones that you miss that occupy your thoughts.

Still, you win. And still, you don’t feel the same joy as everyone else.

The following training session you still feel like shit. You almost don’t come you feel so deflated about how much you’re letting the team down. But it would be worse if you didn’t turn up. Plus, its training, surely this is the one thing you should be going to if you think you play so poorly.

So that’s what you do. You train with everyone like normal, and then after you stay behind and practice shooting. You’d even brought your own ball so that you didn’t have to rely on Jungkooks.

“What you doing?” Jungkook asks when you stay on court as everyone leaves.

You hold up your ball in response. You still don’t say anything as you step into the D and take a shot. You watch as the ball sails through the air and lands perfectly in the hoop. God, you wish every shot was like that.

“You know, it’s easy when no one’s marking you.”

You hadn’t realised Jungkook had approached you until you hear his voice behind you.

“You don’t say,” your voice drips in sarcasm as you go to pick up the ball, this time you stand in a different position to the net and take a shot, once again it sails through the hoop.

“I told you, you’re a good shooter,” you think you can hear pride in his voice, but don’t want the words to go to your head.

“Like you said, it’s easy when there’s no one marking me,” again you walk to pick up the ball.

“So why is no one marking you?”

“I didn’t want to make anyone stay. Plus, I thought doing shots from different positions and angles would help with my confidence if nothing else.”

You risk a glance at Jungkook who remains stood just outside the D, a small smile on his face as he looks at you. Again, you wonder if it’s pride that you can see on his face. And again, you look away so that the hope doesn’t rise up in you.

You take a shot from where you’re stood, the ball sails in through the hoop, and though you’ve just scored, it makes your heart drop. Why are you so good now, but not when it matters most?

“I’m here,” Jungkook says, and you turn to furrow your brow at him. “I can mark you,” he clarifies.

“Oh,” you say, understanding sweeping through you. You turn to get the ball so you have something to do, not wanting him to see how flustered he makes you. “Are you not a bit tall?”

You catch him rolling his eyes are you turn to look at him.

“I’m not that tall. There will be people you play in defence my height. Plus, it’s all good practice,” he steps into the D, walking forward so he’s the allotted 3 feet away. “Come on, give me your best.”

You look at him stood in front of you. Though he’s 3 feet from you, it feels like he’s looming over you. He hasn’t even raised his hands to block the shot and you feel like you’ll never get the ball past him. Still, he looks at you expectantly, and with his big doe eyes, you feel like you can’t let him down.

“Yes coach,” you mumble under your breath, and you hope he didn’t hear. None of you actively called him coach to his face, but it was all something you joked about behind his back.

Turning to him, you lift your arms, ready to take the shot. He follows suit, jumping up and down in front of you to try and intercept. You take the shot, and the ball hits the rim of the hoop and bounds off. No goal.

You let a sigh out.

“Oh come on,” Jungkook scolds you. “That was good considering you were shooting against this giant,” you can’t help the small laugh that comes out of you when he gestures to himself. “It’s all practice Y/N, and confidence. We’ll keep going until you have it.”

And so you do. You don’t shoot for much longer, staying only 15 minutes longer than you would have, but still, 15 minutes more than you both would have stayed. And though you don’t feel like a professional at the end, you certainly feel a bit more confident. Jungkook was a netball coach for a reason, and one on one he shone. He gave you tips for things you wouldn’t have thought of, reminded you of rules that you could use in your favour, told you how you should position your body to be in the best position under the hoop. It wasn’t a big improvement, but you felt like you knew what you had to do to improve.

You thanked him endlessly as you finished up, both of you heading into the uni-sex changing room. You thanked him so much, that by the time you were saying goodbye to him, his cheeks were a bit pink from embarrassment, his ears crimson red.

After that evening where you stayed later to practice your shooting with Jungkook, you improved in bounds. Jungkook did a few group drills to help you put into practice techniques with people marking you. And you also ended up staying late after training regularly to practice shooting on your own. Nine times out of ten, Jungkook would stay with you.

It all made a difference, in your games you felt more confident, and though you would still miss the occasional shot, you got more in then not. Your team were improving with Jungkook as your coach. He had made small changes, practiced set plays, nothing too major but your team was so much improved by his presence.

This evening was a time when he stayed with you after training. Though when he said he thought you were done for the night, you had said you wanted a couple more minutes.

Leaving you to it, Jungkook headed for the changing room while you took a few more shots.

You felt like you had become a better shooter. It felt strange to you that you used to play wing attack before, because now goal attack felt so natural. And Jungkook was right, you played better as a team with Clare in wing attack. You don’t know how he saw it, but you were glad he did.

You take a final shot, and when it goes through the hoop you pick up the ball and follow where Jungkook headed 5 minutes ago.

“Why don’t you have a top on?” You blanch as soon as you walk through the door and see Jungkook sat on the bench without his top on. Your eyes dart to the opposite wall so that you aren’t staring at Jungkooks exposed chest.

Still you can see him out of the corner of your eye, looking around the room as if you aren’t the only two in there and you could be talking to someone else.

“I thought this was a changing room?”

“Yeah, so change. Don’t just sit there naked.”

“Not naked yet,” you can hear how much he’s enjoying this conversation, enjoying how you are clearly flustered by the topic.

“Well at least let me get out of here before you do that,” you flush and start moving towards your bag so that you can get out of here as quickly as possible.

Jungkook laughs at how flustered you are and the noise irritates you. Why was he always so God damn annoying? You had grown closer to him after spending so much time with him, but he still easily drove you insane. A simple comment or look would have your insides knotting in annoyance.

“I’ve just got my top off Y/N, calm down.”

The words, and the way he says them, continues to annoy you. But you hold back your comments in favour of getting your belongings together.

You hated how flustered he made you feel. He’d been doing it since he arrived at training on that first day. And now being in a room alone with him, him with no top on, felt like things had reached fever pitch. You needed to get out of here before you said or did something you’d later regret.

“Your shooting was good tonight,” Jungkook carries on as if unaware of your state, or maybe he is aware and he’s trying to push you to breaking. “It’s always good. But you’re improving.”

You let out a small hum. “Thanks for the help.”

“It’s my job.”

Your stuff is finally all together and you face the final dilemma of having to leave the room. To do so will mean looking at Jungkook, and his shirtless self again. From the lack of noise, you know he hasn’t done anything to cover himself.

You bite your lip as you take a deep breath in. Pulling a neutral look onto your face, you turn around to face the man.

The cocky smirk is already plastered on his face as he sits fully facing you. He’s leant back on his arms, exposing every muscle on his stomach, his legs spread wide as if in invitation for you to drop before him.

You almost feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead as you try not to look at every inch of his body. He certainly worked out. You had little doubts before, but seeing it spread so plainly in front of you was something else.

Neither of you say anything as you stare at him unmoved.

“You don’t seem so opposed to me being topless now,” he breaks you out of your trance, and though your eyes were on his face, they dart to look at the wall over his shoulder.

“I – uh – I'm heading off now anyway,” you hate how your words give away how flustered you are. Though you’re sure your body language is doing that just as clearly.

“Not getting changed?”

Your eyes dart back to him. You hate how relaxed he looks. Still leant back on his arms, legs still spread wide, smirk still on his face. You want to wipe it all off. And you know exactly how.

Without giving it much thought, you drop your bags on the floor, you keep your eyes on his as your hands go for the bottom of your top. You grow more confident as Jungkook stills, he no longer rests on his arms, instead he sits up straighter as he watches you pull your top over your head.

In just a few seconds you have changed the tide. He is now the flustered one, you now the confident cocky one.

“You know what? You’re right. I should get changed,” you say as you drop your top to the floor.

You stand there a second or two just to make sure that you have indeed made Jungkook squirm. If he was going to make you feel uncomfortable, you could return the favour just as effortlessly. You swear you see his throat bob as he swallows.

And then you finally put him out of his misery. You have to bend down to pick up your bag. Opening it up you rest it on the bench beside you to try and find your clean top. You curse that you didn’t think about this before taking your old top off. Now, you’re just stood in your bra while Jungkook watches you look through your bag.

“And you’re putting on a clean top over your dirty sports bra?”

Your head snaps to look at Jungkook. He can’t be serious. But looking at him, he is. The flustered boy has gone. He’d recovered from the shock of you removing your top and is back to being his cocky self. He doesn’t even hesitate to drag his eyes down to said ‘dirty bra’.

You stand back up to your full height, you’d be damned if you had done all of this just for him to win. Though win what, you aren’t sure.

“Why don’t you take it off if you’re so concerned.”

His eyes dance across your face as if wondering how far to take this. And then he widens his legs, your gaze drops to watch the movement and you catch site of the growing bulge in his pants. Eyes going back to his face, he doesn’t look the least bothered that you’ve seen what you have.

“You’ll have to come here then,” he nods his head down to the wide gap created between his legs.

Your eyes don’t leave his as you walk towards him. You can't believe you’re actually doing this. You feel like you must have gone insane since walking into the changing room.

You stop when your knees are in front of his. Not quite touching him.

His head is level with your chest as he sits in front of you, but he leans back enough so that he can look you in the eye.

“Turn around then.”

Silently you follow his command. You spin so that your back is facing him and your heart rate increases now that you can’t see his movements. It felt safer somehow when you could see his face and at least try to read what he was thinking. You felt exposed with your back to him.

Gently, his fingers encompass your waist, pulling you back a few inches so that you’re closer to him. You can almost feel his hot breath on your skin. His fingers move from your waist up your bare skin and you shudder at his touch. Neither of you say anything though as his fingers reach the band of your bra. The only noise in the room are your heavy breaths.

Effortlessly, Jungkook releases the clasps on your bra, and then his fingers splay on your sides. He twists you so that you face him again. His eyes are almost black, his pupils blown out so big with desire. But his gaze is firmly set on your chest as his hands pull your bra down your arms.

He doesn’t seem to care about the piece of material when it’s removed, simply throws it somewhere neither of you look. You’re too focused on Jungkooks desire filled face. Jungkook too focused on your now exposed chest.

“At least we’re now equally exposed,” you try to joke, but neither of you laugh.

The tension builds in the air, getting thicker and thicker, and you wonder if Jungkook is just going to stare at you, or if you needed to be the one to act. You’re about to say something when he moves.

His hands pull you closer, while his head moves towards you. You almost fall into him at the sudden movement, but his hands hold you steady.

His lips encompass one of your nipples, teeth lightly pulling on the bud. A moan escapes your mouth at the sensation. His tongue starts to swipe where his teeth once were, easing the slight pain that bubbled there.

The hand on your side moves around and starts to knead your other boob. The sensation has you throwing your head back. It feels like he‘s barely done anything, and already you’re putty in his hands. His tongue continues to swipe your nipple, his lips working the skin around it, while his other hand makes sure your other boob is not left out.

You can’t help the noises that escape you. Your hand involuntarily goes to the back of his head. Trying to keep him where he is doing what he’s doing, while also trying to push him impossibly closer. You want more, while also wanting him to stay doing just this to you forever.

And it’s that thought that snaps you back to reality. You have your top off, Jungkooks lips attached to your boob, while in a public changing room. Anyone could come in and see this at any second. Instead of pulling him closer, you start to push his head away from you. Jungkook fights back from your push, trying to keep his lips on you, but you somehow get him off you. A whine of protest leaves his lips, and when you try to take a step away from him, his hands hold your sides firmly in place.

“Jungkook,” you attempt to scold him. “We can’t do this, not here. Anyone could have walked in.”

He doesn’t look the least bit concerned.

“No one will walk in. No one’s here at this time to walk in.”

“There are staff. The gym is still open. There are people here,” you almost screech the words at him as he continues to hold you in place.

“Calm down,” he tugs you in to him, your chest now pressed against his as he sits up straight and rearranges you so that one of his legs is in between yours. “No one is coming.”

“You can’t know that,” you protest.

“I can, and I do,” he says, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

The gesture catches you so off guard that you don’t say anything when he pulls away. It seems to be what he wanted to achieve as a smile appears on his face before he leans back into you. This time his lips stay longer on you, moving to mould yours. The kiss becomes less soft and gentle as his tongue sweeps against your closed lips. You almost let him in before realising he has completely distracted you from your previous argument.

Another groan of protest leaves Jungkooks lips as you pull away. His eyes are closed in frustration when you look at him.

“We’ll be quick,” he pleads, opening his big doe eyes. “I’ll be quick,” he amends. His hands grab your waist and drags you forward over his leg, you feel how worked up he is when your hips meet his. You swallow deeply when you feel just how big he is. “No one will come,” he says, his voice hoarse with desire.

He leans forward, this time his lips going to your neck, nipping and suckling soft marks as he works his way to your ear. His hands remain on your hips and he continues to move you back and forward over his leg. You can feel his leg muscles clenching to help stimulate you, but you almost don’t need it you’re already so wet. You’re almost broken and then his lips finally meet your ear.

“You need to help me Y/N. You can’t leave me like this, not when you’re the one who caused it,” you’re still grinding on his leg, though now it seems to be you causing the movement more than him, his hands only there to support you. “No one will come.”

You snap. Stopping your movements, you pull away from him. His eyes are wide as he looks at you, he looks worried that he scared you away, and you almost laugh at how innocent he looks, after talking so dirty to you seconds ago.

“You better be quick,” you say, and watch the light flood back into Jungkooks eyes. “And you better have protection.”

He nods his head, giving away how keen and excited he is. You’re still worried that someone will walk in. But you also know Jungkook is right, the chances at this hour are slim. Plus, it only makes the whole experience more exciting.

“Get those off,” he nods to the shorts that remain on your legs as he pushes you to stand.

There’s a flurry of activity as you pull your shorts and pants down, Jungkook doing the same with his before going into his bag for a condom.

“You seriously carry those around?” You ask as you watch him tear open the foil packet.

“I coach a womans netball team Y/N, one of you were bound to break soon enough. You were just the lucky one.” You let out a startled gasp and lightly hit his chest in offence. “I’m joking,” he laughs at your expression, before rolling the condom on his length, your mouth goes dry at the sight. “It’s just a precaution. And aren’t you glad.”

He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. You definitely were glad. What was about to happen wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for his apparent precaution for safety.

“Hum, am I glad it’s me you managed to corner and not Zoe? I’m sure I’m about to find out,” you nod at his length as if in challenge. But given his size, you’re sure he won’t require too much skill to make you feel good.

His hands come to rest back on your sides, pulling you back towards where he’s sat on the bench. The smile is wide on his face as he looks at you, the light in his eyes sparkling.

“Oh come on Y/N, I’m sure you’ve been wanting this for just as long as I have,” his words heat you. You have been wanting this, wanting him, for a while, and though you’ve caught many of the looks he’d given you, it was another thing to hear him admit he wants you aloud. “And don’t worry,” he says, his voice dropping as he pulls you so that you hover over his length. “You won’t be disappointed.”

He pulls you down onto him and you let out a small yelp, not expecting him to go fully in straight away. He doesn’t give you time to adjust either, simply starts to lift you up and down on his length, though still gently to begin.

Your hands go to his shoulders to support yourself as he spears you. He’s barely begun and already you feel at a loss.

“God, didn’t have to do anything and you’re already so wet,” Jungkooks voice sounds out.

His hands on your waist set the pace. His hips remain firmly on the bench as he lifts you up and down on his length. He watches himself disappear inside you, and the fucked out look on his face only drives you to want more.

You start to take over. Planting your legs on the bench on either side of him, you speed up your movements. Using your hands on his shoulders to help ground yourself, you pull yourself up to his tip before slamming back down on him.

His gaze goes feral as he continues to watch where your bodies connect.

“Oh fuck, yeah, just like that.”

His comments spur you on. You try to go faster, but the slats of the bench dig uncomfortably into your knees, and Jungkooks wide legs makes the position awkward.

You sit fully up off him, and try not to smile when Jungkook finally looks up at you, worry on his face as you stand up. You don’t say anything to ease his worries as you stand up in front of him. You simply place your hands on his knees, getting him to spread his legs wider before turning your back to him.

You back into him, legs now in between his. Glancing over your shoulder you take his dick in your hands as you approach him, lining yourself back up.

He slips easily into you. It feels so much deeper from this angle, your ass ramming down into his hips. A moan escapes your lips and you fuck yourself back into him. Feet now firmly on the ground, chest bent down so you can hold onto his legs to steady yourself, you can pound into him at a pace you couldn’t before.

Jungkook seems to be enjoying the angle just as much as you. Moans escape his lips every time your hips connect. His hand comes to your back, rubbing up and down before applying a bit of pressure so that you arch at his touch.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans the words out as his hand gabs your ass, kneading the flesh there. “Keep going. Keep fucking going,” he punctuates the words, lifting his hips up to meet yours.

You almost scream at the effect it has. He seems to go impossibly deep, hitting you at just the right spot.

The inhuman noise you emit seems to do something to Jungkook. He grabs your hips so that he can slam you down harder on him while he thrusts up into you. It only takes a few thrusts before you come undone. You can barely hold yourself up as you find your release. Your body would have collapsed under its own weight if Jungkook hadn’t quickly wrapped his hands around you.

He remains in you, but stands up, pushing you both forward so that your chest is on the lockers.

One hand on your chest, the other on your hip he starts to move in you again. More moans escape you. After the orgasm you just had, you didn’t think it would be possible to carry on, let alone still feel pleasure with him moving inside you.

“You like that?” Jungkook moans into your ear as he thrusts up inside you.

“Yes coach,” you don’t know what possesses you to use the nickname, but Jungkook seems to enjoy it, a moan escaping his lips and his hips seeming to snap up quicker inside you.

“You like me fucking you on the bench? Against the lockers? Where all your friends come every week?”

“Yes,” you moan out, and then your mind scrambles as Jungkook tuts in your ear and slows his pace a fraction. “Yes coach,” you realise your error, and Jungkook once again speeds up.

The hand on your hip slips around to your front so that he can rub circles on your clit and your head falls back onto Jungkooks chest in a moan.

“You feel so good,” he kisses your now exposed cheek, and you can’t help but think how soft it is in such a heated moment. His hips still snap up hard into you, but they seem to stutter and you realise he must be close.

You start to grind your hips back into him, helping him to find his release faster.

“Cum on me, one more time. Please cum for me,” he mumbles into your ear, and as if to reflect his word, his fingers still rubbing fingers into your clit speed up just as his hips do.

Another scream like moan escapes you as white takes over your vision. You spasm in his grasp as Jungkook thrusts hard into you, chasing his own release but also extending your pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says as his hips stutter, before he finally stills.

You remain connected for a few seconds while you both catch your breath. Then Jungkooks lips are pressing to your neck in a few light kisses as he pulls himself out of you. You turn around so your back is on the locker and you can look him in the eyes. After what you’ve both just done, you can’t help but think he looks so soft stood before you, his eyes wide, cheeks pink, hair fluffy and wild, a shimmer of sweat glistening on his body.

“You said you’d be quick,” your voice comes out slightly hoarse and you have to cough to clear your throat.

A wicked smile takes over Jungkooks face as he stares down at you. “I didn’t hear any complaints.”

You hum, unable to come up with any response. Because you had no complaints. What had just happened was amazing, and even with the location, and all the risks, you’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“Next time I'd prefer somewhere comfier,” you gesture down at your still exposed body, indents all over your skin from kneeling on the bench and then being pressed against the locker.

“Next time, hey?” His eyebrows raise as he smirks at you. You flush, wishing you’d thought through the words before you’d spoken them, but Jungkook merely leans in and presses his lips to yours. “Next time, I might be able to stretch to a bed. If that suits you?” He mumbles the words against your lips.

A smile overtakes your features, however hard you fight it. “I’m sure that will suffice.”

“Good,” he says before stepping away from you. His eyes rake your body appreciatively. “Now, go get changed before someone walks in.”

“Yes coach,” you chuckle, walking past him to get your bag.

931 notes · View notes

mviswidow · 4 years ago

Text

i can’t feel it

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2,727

Warnings: wandavision spoilers!! i recommend catching up before reading this if you haven’t already. also, i cursed like, twice.

A/N: this was literally edited while i was falling asleep, so if there are mistakes, that’s why. Please pm or reply, telling me and I'll go back and fix it.

Prompt: hi!! what about a wanda x reader where r has similar powers to wanda & enters the hex to talk her into letting everyone in westview go & coming home with r? :)

Summary: R has to convince Wanda to let everyone in Westview go.

part two

“Are you sure you remember everything?” Jimmy asked you, concerned about how fast you were being thrown into everything.

You nodded confidently, you were nervous, kind of scared, but ready. After getting a call from Monica, you knew whatever was going on was important, and you made your way to the outskirts of Westview, New Jersey before she even had to tell you what was going on. “Wanda’s robot boyfriend-”

“-Synthezoid,” Jimmy corrected before seeing the look Darcy gave him. “Sorry.”

“Synthezoid boyfriend died because Thanos pulled the mind stone out of his head, she had to watch him die twice and freaked out, stole his body from S.W.O.R.D., and created a fake sitcom reality where she goes through decades because she’s a grieving 30 year old with an odd obsession with tv shows. Oh, and she’s mind controlling a whole town and I’m supposed to convince her to let them go. Almost forgot that one,” You said, pointedly making the lighthearted joke because of Jimmy’s evident stress, chuckling softly.

“Just be careful,” Darcy cut in, “Wanda doesn’t seem to want to leave and we won't know if things go wrong because she chooses what goes in her show and what doesn’t.”

“I’ll be just fine. Let’s go,” You sighed and the four of you started to head out the door, but Hayward pulled you aside before you could leave the building. You told them to go ahead and you would meet them by the car.

“Ms (Y/L/N),” Hayward nodded, and you nodded back to him. Warm greeting, you thought. “Director Hayward.”

“If you cannot get Wanda to submit and release the people of Westview, I want you to fight her. Do whatever you have to, I need the Vision’s body back in S.W.O.R.D. custody and the citizens of Westview to be freed.”

Your brow furrowed, “My assignment is to try to persuade Ms Maximoff. I’m not fighting her, Sir. She’s grieving. I just got here and I can tell. She seems like she just wants to be happy.”

He scoffed at you and shook his head, “Her happiness means nothing to me. Ms Maximoff has thousands held captive. So, I think you’re misunderstanding me, Ms (Y/L/N), I am ordering you to kill her if needed. We need her to bring that barrier down.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Director. I’m just here to try to work things out, not to fight anyone,” You retorted.

“So you would let her continue to mind control the people of Westview? To continue controlling a sentient weapon made of vibranium?” Hayward asked pointedly, but you weren’t having any of it.

“With all due respect, you seem awfully concerned about the Vision when there are ‘thousands held captive’. And regardless, do you have any idea what would happen if Wanda died while all those people were in there?” You paused for a moment, giving him a chance to answer. “I didn’t think so.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and huffed, quickly making your way to the car that was waiting to take you to the border of the hex, Darcy, Monica, and Jimmy sat inside of it.

“What did he want?” Jimmy asked.

You sighed and started playing with the sleeve of your long sleeved shirt, “He wants me to kill Wanda if she doesn’t stop mind controlling Westview.”

Darcy’s eyes widened, “Sorry, what?”

You looked up at her and saw her concerned expression, “Oh, I’m not going to.” You said quickly, not wanting any of them to get the wrong impression. “He isn’t in charge of me. Wanda doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone in Westview, and besides, it would be foolish when we know nothing about what would happen inside the barrier if she died.”

Darcy nodded as Monica parked the car and the four of you got out of it.

“Thank you for doing this, (Y/n),” Monica smiled softly as you reached the hex.

“You know I’m always willing to help you when you need me,” You smiled and looked towards the barrier.

You knew the trio was watching you intently, with the other agents standing outside, waiting for you to go in, but your heart was racing and you had to take a few deep breaths before bringing your hands up, moving your fingers in a way that they recognized to be similar to the way Wanda did, and you stepped closer, the blue light from your powers flowing forward and hitting the hex.

It kind of looked like when food coloring is dropped into water, and the color spreads, except your powers were the food coloring, and the hex was the water.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you pulled your hands further apart and groaned as you slowly but surely pulled apart a section of the barrier that was big enough for you to fit through before walking right through it.

As soon as you were through, you looked behind you and saw nothing. None of the S.W.O.R.D. tents or buildings or cars, Darcy, Monica, Jimmy, and all the other agents who were outside were gone. It was just a plain old normal street.

You looked down at your clothes and chuckled, the 80s. If Wanda had anything, it was a fashion sense, whether it was conscious of it or not. You were dressed in a fitted white shirt, and an electric blue skirt and cropped blazer set. Was it a bit tacky? Sort of, but you couldn’t help but love it. However, you were very pleased that the white boots you were wearing didn’t have too high of a heel.

You sighed and knew you needed to go quickly. Vision had just left for work and this was the best chance you were going to get to talk to Wanda. You doubted she would let you convince her to let everyone go if Vision was there with her.

You extended your arms to the ground below you and used your powers to lift yourself up into the air, waiting until you saw the house you recognized to be Wanda’s to fly down to a street that had no one on it that was close enough for you to arrive quickly.

Your hand trembled as it reached up to knock on the door, but before you could overthink any longer, you tapped your knuckles against the wood three times and waited, playing with your fingers.

Wanda opened the door and smiled, though she wore a confused expression on her face, “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met before, or have we?”

You offered a smile and shook your head, “We haven’t, I’m (Y/n).”

“Wanda,” she said, with a lilt in her voice.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something, if you aren’t busy? It’s important.”

She gazed at you curiously before nodding and stepping out of the way, “Come inside.”

You walked inside her home, the feeling you got was weird. You’d seen it on Darcy’s tv, but it was different to actually be in the room.

Wanda noticed the way your eyes flicked around her living room, looking at the couch, the photos hanging, the random decorations, and the few toys on the floor.

“Do you want something to drink?” She asked politely, before noticing you staring at one of the toys Tommy happened to favor. “My boys are upstairs.”

You smiled politely and shook your head, “I’m alright, Wanda, thank you. I need to talk to you about what you’re doing.” You started, not very strongly, but it wasn’t like you could just blurt out what you needed to say. This was a difficult situation.

“I’m sorry?” She tilted her head, not catching on, but she looked worried.

“I know about your powers, you’re controlling everyone in Westview, and Vision is starting to-”

“Leave,” Wanda extended her hands and tried to levitate you out, but you put your hands at your side and grounded yourself, blue mist surrounding your feet.

Wanda faltered and her eyes widened at the sight of your powers, “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n. I was sent here to convince you to let everyone in Westview go. I promise I don’t mean you any harm, I just want things to go smoothly so no one else gets hurt.”

Wanda shook her head, “I can't just let go of this, I finally have everything I want.”

You sighed and nodded, “I understand how you feel, I have lost family too, but the people of Westview, they have their own lives and families. They’re in pain, Wanda. I can feel it. Can’t you?”

Her eyes snapped up and met yours, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill. She shook her head, “I can’t feel it.”

You stood for a moment, the two of you just looking at each other, before taking a breath and letting the blue mist that was keeping you grounded fade away. Cautiously, you walked closer to her and let out a breath of relief when she wasn’t backing away or looking like she was going to attack you.

“You can look into minds, can’t you?” You asked, knowing that showing her the pain she was unknowingly putting these people through was the best chance you had at convincing her to do the right thing.

Wanda nodded without saying anything and understood what you wanted her to do. Shakily, she lifted her hand and bit her lip, she looked scared.

You blinked a few times, thought, fuck it, and gently held her wrist, bringing her hand up to your temple. You watched her eyes glow red before closing your eyes, allowing Wanda to see inside your mind.

All Wanda could feel was an unbearable amount of agony, she heard thousands of voices overlapping each other, panicked screams and crying. It was too much. Everyone sounded so scared. She did this.

The feeling was excruciating and let out a strangled sob, which made your eyes open on instinct.

Tears were flowing freely down Wanda’s face and she slowly sank to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

You got down on the floor in front of her and held one of her hands, using your other one to tilt her chin up towards you, “It’s okay, Wanda.”

She shook her head furiously and squeezed your hand, leaning forward, into you.

You wrapped your arm around her and let her cry into your shoulder. Your stomach felt twisted and you couldn’t believe Hayward had asked you to kill Wanda if she refused to comply, not when she was reacting like this.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” She managed to get out between deep breaths and whimpers. “I just - I wanted Vis back.”

Tears pricked at your own eyes, but you ignored them, knowing that you had to focus on Wanda, “I know, it’s okay. Everything will be okay. You just have to put down the barriers around Westview and stop mind controlling everyone.”

Wanda’s breath hitched, but she nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You asked. Surprised at how you managed to get her to listen to you.

“I’ll do it now,” She sniffled and wiped her tears, standing up slowly.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Well, hold on, don’t you want to see Vision first? Or call the twins down here?”

Her lips pressed together as another tear slipped down her cheek and she shook her head, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I allow myself to see them again,” She said quietly.

You nodded and stepped back, letting her go about this whatever way she wanted.

You watched her work, even though the two of you were inside, you could see out the window that the sky had turned red and it was gradually getting more blue, looking like she was chipping off pieces of the sky, if the sky was red, away from the inside out.

Before you knew it, the house the two of you were standing in had been reduced to the foundation of a home, just concrete laying on the floor in the shape of the house Wanda had been living in.

She was wearing a burgundy shirt, a jacket, and jeans instead of the big jeans and plaid shirt she’d had on before, and you were back to wearing your comfortable grey long sleeved shirt and jeans.

Her bottom lip started to tremble and she turned towards you before her breath started to quicken.

You wore a pained expression and stepped towards her, holding your arms out. You thought she was going to deny the embrace you were offering her, but she walked forward and buried her head in your neck, letting you wrap your arms around her, “I’m really proud of you, Wanda. It takes a lot to be able to give up something that important to you.”

She nodded, but said nothing. You stood there for about two more minutes before her breathing had calmed and she’d stopped crying. “Thank you, (Y/n).”

You nodded and smiled sadly at her before you both looked towards the red buick that was now sitting in her driveway, “I think I’m going to have to take you back out of Westview with me. I’ll get in trouble if I just let you leave, I think.”

“It’s fine, I’ll go,” She fished the keys to her car out of her pocket and played with the keyring. “Do you think you can drive us? I kind of want to look around before we leave.”

You took her keys and she let out a breath before quietly thanking you and walking to the passenger seat of her car.

Before you pulled out of the driveway, you spoke, “How did you do all of this?” You asked curiously. Sure, you had magic yourself, but there was no way you could even dream about pulling off anything like this.

“I’m not sure. All I remember is feeling so completely alone and sad, and I went to S.W.O.R.D. to see Vis for the last time before coming here, because Hayward wouldn’t let me take his body to give him a funeral or anything, so I guess I made a version of him here. I really don’t know how I managed though, because -”

“Sorry,” You interrupted, turning to look at her with your brows knitted together. “You said the Vision stayed in S.W.O.R.D.?”

“Yes?” She nodded. “What is it?”

You huffed and started the engine of the car, pulling out of the driveway, “The lying bastard. Hayward edited security camera footage to make it look like you stole the Vision’s body and used it here.”

“That’s ridiculous. I know better than to make myself a criminal again. Well, I mean-”

“It’s fine Wanda. You didn’t mean to,” You continued driving, enjoying the neighborhood.

When you were getting close to the edge of town, she spoke again. “Am I going to jail?”

“I won’t let them put you in jail,” You said simply.

“What, why?” Wanda asked, and it was clear that she was asking because she thought she deserved it and she was expecting it to happen.

“You don’t deserve it,” You shrugged. You didn’t want her to suffer alone, again. She already tried that, and look where that got everyone.

Wanda shook her head, “You know that isn’t true.”

“I believe it is. I know that your actions were wrong, but Hayward was wrong for denying you when you asked for Vision’s body to bury. It wasn’t his to have. All he cares about is money and power and the Vision would cost a lot of money and would give him a lot of power. I mean, realistically, he’s kind of the cause for this. But that’s not the point. The point is that it was never your intention to hurt these people and it’s not fair to you that he set you up like this.”

“And what will you do if they try to put me in jail?” Wanda asked curiously, her voice low.

You sighed as you started to be able to make out Jimmy, Monica, and Darcy from far away. “I dunno, maybe we can run away together or something.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff oneshot #wlw imagine #sapphic #wandavision #wandavision imagine #wandavision oneshot #fanfic

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musette22 · 3 years ago

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I am CRAVING a long fic like at least 50k but preferably more like lots and lots more and I feel like I’ve read all the really good ones but then every now and then I stumble upon something fantastic from like 2015 so I know it can’t be true that I’ve read ALL the good stuff. SO. If you have the time and feel like it, would you mind recommending some of your fav longer fics? Stucky or evanstan!! And if any nice ppl in the replies wanna share their favorites I will be the happiest girlie out there 💖

Oohh yes, I know that craving! I don't think it's possible to have read all the good ones in this fandom to be honest, I've been reading for years now and I still have so many long fics on my to read list!

I'm afraid I'm not the best at reccing things, because I neglected to bookmark fics until fairly recently so I can't always recall the long fics I read during my first year or so in this fandom (which is when I read the most, because it was before I used tumblr much and before I started writing myself), which means I keep reccing the same ones because they're the ones that are currently in my bookmarks 😅 Definitely have a look through those though, there aren't too many and I recently added some older long fics!

I also answered an ask recently about my favourite fics, which also includes a few long ones! Hopefully you'll find something you like among those ❤️ If anyone else has some good long fic recs for nonnie, please feel free to drop them in the notes or send me an ask!!

#stucky #fic recs #minnie answers

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heathersgameoftag · 4 years ago

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SURPRIIIIISE SHAWTY it was a double whammy. i remade the first ever TAG drawing i made. as you can see over the past three years (fuck) a lot has changed since my first concept. Veronica's bigender, Duke wears red, and oh worm..... new Mac design dropped???? 😳

anyway long paragraphs below

i'm around 40 followers away from 2000 followers on this blog (i've been kinda stuck around 1950 followers for a while now, it keeps going up and down lmao) so i guess this is a little thank you from me for sticking around for this long to read a silly AU that i've become so fixated on. even when the day comes that i no longer am interested in this AU (which will be a long time from now dw) i'll still have a very special place for it in my heart. i wouldn't be planning to rewrite it as its own novel if it wasn't so important to me.

i know lately my blog has calmed down a LOT from its initial launch in 2018. i've also had some personal stuff happen relating to it that has sucked a bit of enjoyment out of it (nothing to do with any of y'all!!! it's a very personal thing). but even though things have calmed and i struggle to answer asks as well as i used to (sorry for all the unanswered asks, it's nothing personal i promise) i still check my notifs for this blog daily and i always love seeing comments and reactions to my fics and drawings. it really means the world to me and it's the main thing keeping me going with this AU.

i do want to apologise if it feels like i've been a lot more quieter or distant from this blog though. idk if anyone has noticed anything but i definitely feel like i haven't been doing enough to keep y'alls enjoyment lately. i even get worried that my fics aren't interesting anymore since we're past the 'useless gay pining' stage and are onto the 'useless gays making a weird relationship work' stage, and i feel like it's not what most people want to see. idk if that's true, but it's what it feels like. but i also know that a lot of it is probably in my head. i still get comments and love and kudos from y'all and that should be and is enough for me, and i'll always be super appreciative of that.

i would like to maybe bring a bit more life to this blog again. if you ever wonder why i may not reply to asks, its because i'm just unsure how to answer. i get very few asks relating to TAG these days, which is fine, don't get me wrong, but it's difficult for me to give a good answer to something that could easily be its own headcanon post or otherwise. this isn't me complaining btw, i'm saying if you're one of the people sending me hcs, especially on anon, i'm recommending you put yourself out there on your own blogs !!!! i know it's nerve-wracking but i always see good stuff in there. i don't want it stuck on my blog where you won't get any credit, you deserve recognition :]

anyway, like i said, i want to bring more life to this blog again. i'm much more likely to answer asks relating to my au. it brings me a lot of dopamine and motivates me to actually get around to it. so if anyone wants to go ahead and do that, then i'd be happy to do it <3

again, a huge thank you to everyone who has been reading or has read TAG, even if you've lost interest in it, the fact that it caught your eye for some time means the world to me. i appreciate all of y'all sm <3

#tag au #tag art #heathers #heathers the musical #heather chandler #heather duke #heather mcnamara #veronica sawyer #chansaw #chanduke #chandlamara #mcduke #dukesaw #mcnamawyer #poly heathers #heathers art #heathers fanart #flower squad

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years ago

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intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-two

I’m liking this two updates a week schedule because I hate leaving you guys hanging like that!! I hope this chapter makes it all better xx.

Oh btw the title of this chapter and last chapter are lyrics from “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet! (Also I know the gif is irrelevant but the ~emotion~ of it is relevant)

ALSO (wow I have a lot I keep forgetting to add) I meant to @ her last chapter, but all of these medical scenes and things were 100% done with the help of @thedumpsterqueen because I know next to nothing about all this stuff and she was an angel and let me ask all the crazy questions <333 (P.S. she has a Hotch fic called Standards of Performance on her blog that you guys should alllll read if you haven’t already!! It’s SO good it’s one of my favorites)

Warnings: angst and sadness, but that’s pretty much it

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two: I can’t imagine a world with you gone

Everything is a blur in Hotch’s mind before and after the first gunshot rings through the air. He didn’t need to hear the buzzing in his ear to know it had hit you.

He took off at a sprint, as did the rest of the team.

His ears are ringing. His thoughts are racing. He’s never been a man who talks frequently to God, but he’s praying. Hoping you’re alive. Begging you to not be dead.

Aaron would never forgive himself if you died. As it stands, though, he won’t ever forgive himself for this.

Prentiss, Reid, and Rossi take off in one direction. Hotch and Morgan take the other. Police officers fill the gaps and follow behind, everyone searching for you and Savannah.

Morgan is the first to stumble on the room. His throat aches when he screams for Hotch, keeping his weapon aimed at Savannah.

“Put the gun down!” Morgan yells.

Hotch comes skidding to a stop in the doorway a second later, weapon raised, but his eyes are focused on you. Savannah’s boot is pressing into your thigh, blood oozing from your wound, soaking your pants, spilling onto the concrete. Hotch’s heart drops at the sight. He’s seen enough bullet wounds to know how much blood should come from them. That is too much.

The bullet must’ve hit the major artery. And the thought terrifies him.

Morgan takes the shot when Savannah refuses to move. It hits her stomach and she stumbles for a moment before falling. Morgan yells for the paramedics again, distantly thinking they should be in here by now.

Hotch falls to the ground beside you, his hands cupping your face, not caring who sees. His thumbs tap your cheeks, willing you to open your eyes. You have a pulse, but it’s weak. Weaker than what it should be.

He presses hard over your wound, hoping to slow the bleeding, but there’s more surrounding your leg than he wants to see.

“Y/N?” He says, his eyes watching your eyelids for any movement. He lets out a momentary sigh of relief when your eyes open. “Y/N, please, can you hear me?”

You stare back at him, no signs of his words registering in your eyes. They’re empty. Haunted, again, but for a different reason this time. This time it’s different. “Aaron…”

“I’m here,” Hotch says gently, pressing his hand harder, his heart breaking when you groan in pain. “I know,” he says, shushing you.

Your eyes travel around the room then, and Aaron follows. Morgan is pressing his hand over Savannah’s wound, speaking into his wrist, asking the others where the hell the paramedics are at.

But Aaron doesn’t want you to see that, so he cups your jaw again, turning your eyes back on him. He smiles as best he can, the tears beginning to spill from his eyes as he takes in your face.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly. “Keep holding on. They’re almost here.”

“Aaron,” you try to say, your voice low and strained, and Aaron shakes his head, trying to get you to stop talking. “Aaron...I don’t wanna go without-- I need to tell you that I--”

“Shhh,” he tries again, not wanting you to waste any energy. “You don’t need to.”

“I love you,” you finally get it out. And he’s stunned to complete silence and tears. “I love you so...so much. It hurts.”

“Y/N,” he says, panicked. Your eyes are closing. “Y/N! Come back, Y/N, come back to me. Y/N. Y/N, please.”

Hotch is too caught up in holding your face and keeping pressure on your wound to notice the paramedics have arrived. One team goes to Savannah, relieving Morgan, while the other comes to you, trying to usher Hotch away, but he doesn’t budge.

“Hotch,” Morgan tugs on the unit chief, grabbing at his arms, his heart breaking for the both of you. “Hotch, you need to let them get to her.”

Reluctantly, Hotch backs up, clenching his bloodied fist, grimacing at the way your blood sticks his skin together.

Everything else is a blur.

What does it need to be clear for, anyway? If you’re not here?

+++

You’re still in surgery.

It’s been an hour. But it feels longer. It feels like it’s been an entire twenty-four hours.

The entire team has taken up camp in a waiting room at the hospital.

Reid is reading and rereading every magazine he can get his hands on to distract himself, never mind the fact that he reads them so fast that he rips a page on one from turning it so quickly. Morgan has Garcia on the phone and has left to get coffee at least three times, the first time returning with a tray of steaming cups and the next two times returning with only one, but two tearful eyes. Emily has been pacing and will wear a hole into the tile at this rate if she walks for another hour. JJ has been staring at the wall, chewing so hard on the inside of her cheek that she flinches when she draws blood.

Rossi has been staring at the wall, too, but mostly he’s been worrying about and watching Hotch.

Aaron has been biting his nails, tugging at his hair, angrily wiping away tears, and left once to go on a walk before returning two minutes later, asking if they had heard anything. Those two minutes had felt like two hours and he was worried sick for all 120 seconds that he missed something.

Dave hasn’t tried to say anything to Aaron, though he wants to. It’s heartbreaking to watch Aaron like this.

You’re going to pull through. Dave — and the rest of the team — can’t afford to think otherwise. And they refuse to think otherwise, unable to imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here.

But it seems like Aaron is thinking otherwise.

Truthfully, he is. But he’s thinking about so much more.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

And he was too stunned to say it back. The one chance he had, and it might be gone now. Ripped away. Forever.

He sent you in there. He did this to you. He had his reservations, but the call had already been made. You seemed so sure. You wanted to do this so badly. He didn’t want another fight about him not trusting you because it’s not about his trust for you, it’s about how terrified he was for you.

He’ll never forgive himself for this now. Not ever.

It’s a world he can’t even bear to imagine. One without you in it.

Yet here he is, grappling with the fact that he might not have to imagine it soon. He sent you in there. He knowingly put your life in danger. And now he’ll have to live with the consequences.

+++

Aaron is shaken from his trance by the doctor and a nurse coming in to inform the team that you’re out of surgery and that it went well.

But you’re in the ICU.

“She lost a great deal of blood,” the doctor says gravely. “But we think she’ll pull through. She just needs to be watched closely for the time being.”

Everyone nods silently, not sure of what else to say, other than feeling relief that you’re alive.

“Visiting hours are long over, so I recommend you all get some rest,” the nurse says. “She’s in good hands here.”

“Thank you,” Rossi replies.

The doctor excused himself, but the nurse stayed, offering to answer any extra questions. “Visiting hours start at seven a.m.,” she says first. “And in the ICU, only two visitors are allowed in her room at a time.” She doesn’t voice an apology, but one is in her tone as she glances between the six team members.

“Can I stay?” Hotch blurts out of nowhere. The team member’s heads all turn to look at him in surprise. “Can anyone stay the night, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah,” the nurse nods. “One person can.” Her eyebrows furrow sincerely. “Are you her dad?”

Morgan internalizes a snort.

“No,” Hotch replies kindly. “I’m not, but I’d like to stay. I’m her boss.”

Still the nurse looks skeptical. “Would she be okay with—”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Emily blurts out, tired of waiting. And when Hotch sends her a look, she says, “What? It would’ve taken you hours to say it.”

“Oh,” the nurse chuckles, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. Yes, of course you can stay.”

Hotch lets a tiny smile shine through, but it’s not much. Truth is, he’s terrified to see you. But leaving you here alone – even if this is a hospital – terrifies him more.

The rest of the team says goodbye to head back to the hotel for some much-needed rest, if they can sleep at all. They know they’ll wake every couple hours to worry about you before sleep consumes them once more.

In the meantime, Hotch will be here to look after you for all of them. You’re like a little sister to the rest of them, even though Morgan is the only one to have voiced that. You’re loved here. Loved more than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.

You’re loved by Aaron much more than he’ll ever be able to articulate to you. But he’ll try. He’ll try to help you see.

+++

Hotch is finally walking to your room in the ICU after another half hour of waiting. The nurse said they had to get everything settled in your room before he could come back, which only made Hotch’s worry spike even more.

But eventually, he’s in your room with you. A pillow and blanket is in the chair by the window, but he’s not paying attention to it.

You. You’re asleep, of course, and probably will be for a few more hours. The nurse said you had already woken up once, but because of the pain medicine and the overall stress your body has been under in the past few hours, you fell back to sleep almost instantly.

Tears well in his eyes at the sight of you, laid up in the hospital bed, IVs and wires all over you. The beeping of the heart monitor is the only real sign to him that you’re even alive. Your chest is rising and falling, but it’s barely visible underneath the gown and blankets and wires.

You have one regular IV placed on the top of your left hand. Some other line is in your upper arm, and another in your wrist. He has no idea what they’re all for, he just knows he hates seeing you connected to so much.

Aaron wipes at his eyes angrily. Does he have a right to be this upset when he’s the one who sent you in there?

He turns and sets the pillow and blankets in the other chair, knowing he won’t sleep tonight even if he wanted to. Instead, he pulls the chair closer to your bed, where he can place his hand next to yours.

And, if you happen to wake up, you can reach for him if you need to.

+++

Three hours pass and you still haven’t woken up. Aaron knows. He’s been watching you the entire time.

The nurses have come to check on you a few times, assuring Aaron that it’s normal for you to be sleeping like this. But he just nods silently.

He wants you to wake up. Just for a minute. He needs you to just open your eyes and look at him, just once. That’s all he needs.

But it’s wishful thinking as the sky begins to lighten, showing the first signs of dawn.

Aaron links his pinky with yours, afraid to do much else and risk messing up your IV. Holding pinky fingers is enough right now. Or at least, it’ll have to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud, to you, or really to no one at all, because he’s not even sure you can hear him. “I’m just so...sorry, Y/N.”

Stupid tears gather in his eyes again, clogging his throat, stopping his words.

But he keeps going.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “And I know you’ll try to convince me that it’s not, but Y/N, it is and I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I let this happen to you.”

He leans his head into the palm of his free hand, tightening his pinky finger’s grip on yours.

“I love you,” he blurts it out, tears warming his palm as they cascade down his cheeks. “I love you and I need you to wake up because I need you to hear it. I love you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day that I’ve known you that I haven’t loved you.”

He sniffles, loud and body-rattling, glad he’s alone in this room with you because he’d never let anyone else see him like this. No one but you.

“I tried to get it out before, but you were already gone, and I— You need to wake up. I need you to wake up. Please.”

Aaron keeps his eyes closed and head down for a few minutes longer. He doesn’t even see that you’ve opened your eyes.

Until your pinky finger gently squeezes his.

He lifts his head quickly, eyes wide and wild when he sees you’re looking back at him, eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion.

And just like that, just seeing your eyes open and looking right at him, the dam breaks once more. He’s a mess of tears when he leans his head down onto the bed. You lift your hand and thread your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes as more tears slip down your cheeks.

You scratch a soothing pattern on the base of his skull, moving your other hand over your body to hold onto his arm. He senses the movement and lifts his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, all he knows is his back aches when he straightens up again, and you’ve fallen back asleep.

Next chapter

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

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say the word and you know i’ll follow

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 3,262 words

summary: While moving in with Shouto, you get caught up reliving the scene of his confession. Quite literally.

(A smutty oneshot sequel to my fic if i could keep cool.)

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, smut

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, cunnilingus, light bondage

notes: Also cross-posted on my AO3! The manga really has me all in my Todo feels rn but I don't wanna write a whole other fic before I finish the Hawks one, so please have this fluffy smutty one shot as a compromise. It likely won’t make sense unless you’ve read if i could keep cool first, so please check it out if you have the time!

It was sweltering when you stepped outside to make your way to Shouto’s apartment.

A thin film of sweat immediately began to build wherever your skin pressed against the box you carried, and the sun beat down furiously on the crown of your head. You instantly started to second guess your choice to take the train, wondering how dumb of a move it had been to decline an alternative means of transit. It was going to be like being packed into a sardine can and roasted over a hot stove.

Shouto had offered to send an agency car, but there were only so many more times you were going to make the trip from your crumbling student apartment to his place, and you had wanted to make the most of it. You didn’t even really need to bring boxes over just yet--as Shouto had hired a moving company to take care of everything next week--but you didn’t want to lose anything that was inside this one. This one held all your most treasured items--keepsakes from your friends, a pressed white tulip, and all the gifts Shouto had ever given you (minus, of course, the vegetables).

Steeling yourself for an uncomfortable twenty minutes, you set off towards the station, weaving through the tired crowds of people who looked just as sun-weary as you. Thankfully, with a hat over your face and a box you could shift to obscure your features, very few people seemed to recognize you as you did so.

A lot of the media attention surrounding your mishap a year ago had died down, and you had been good about keeping your relationship mostly private, so you weren’t exactly a household name to most people. But there were enough twitter-savvy teens and meme-literate college students that you were sometimes recognized as you went about your daily life.

This time, you were only eyed curiously by one pair of teenage girls as they bundled into the train car across from you, but they didn’t say anything to you, didn’t ask you to reenact the most embarrassing five seconds of your entire life into their phones, as many often did. The box hid you from the rest of the train car, and no one else seemed to take interest in your presence.

After exiting the train at downtown, you made it to Shouto’s building in record time, all but rocket-fueled by your desire to get out of the hot sun. The security team in the lobby of his building gave you friendly nods as you passed, one of them graciously pressing the button for the elevator so you didn’t have to fumble around your box.

You thanked her, making your way into the elevator and elbowing the button for Shouto’s floor. The elevator was even cooler than the lobby, and you shivered in delight as the frigid chill of air conditioning washed over you. God, this building was so fucking nice compared to yours. You were going to be spoiled as fuck once you lived here.

You made it to Shouto’s floor without incident, though digging in your bag for your keys was impossible at the moment, so you knocked on his door as firmly as you could manage with the box still balanced in your arms.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then, the door swung open and Shouto stood there, grinning at you.

His hair still looked a little damp from a recent shower, and he was wearing a dark button up over a soft tee shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He looked unbearably good, as boyishly handsome as ever, and your heart gave an embarrassing little stutter, like it always did whenever you saw him. You suspected it was always going to be like that, no matter how long the two of you had been dating.

Shouto’s eyebrows went up as he considered the box in your arms. That heterochromatic gaze picked over you curiously, expression going carefully blank, like it typically did when he was up to some mischief. And then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“You’re not wearing the scarf,” he said, sounding upset.

You stared up at him, feeling your brow wrinkle. The scarf? It was fucking summer, and the scarf was neatly tucked away in the box you were holding. It was literally boiling hot just outside the well-air conditioned hallways of his building. Why on earth did he think you would be wearing--

You inhaled a little sharply when the answer hit you.

The scarf.

The scarf was the first thing he had mentioned the day he had finally confessed to you. Well, after you had confessed first, really, on national television earlier that week, that you were thirsty as hell for him and were also really bad at picking up subtle clues. Or overt clues. Or any clues, honestly.

But now you were standing in his hallway with a box again, and he was clearly remembering what had happened the last time you had done so.

You wracked your brain for what you had said to him in reply that day, trying to hone in on the words past the sudden swell of embarrassment.

“Uh, it’s in here,” you finally replied, gesturing to the box.

That grey and blue gaze dropped to the parcel in your arms, then flickered up to your face. You pushed the box at him, the way you had the day he’d confessed, feeling just as squirmish as you had then.

What else had you said to him? Something very watery and over dramatic, likely. Something like...

“It’s all, um, there--if you wanted to check,” you said. “Except for the vegetables obviously. But I can pay you back, if you give me a couple months.”

Shouto was clearly suppressing a smirk as he feigned curiosity. “Pay me….what?”

You suppressed your own absurd laugh, wondering how far down mortifying memory lane he wanted to go.

“I also wrote down a recommendation for a new cleaning lady, if you want,” you said, patting the top of the box. “It’s in there. Her name’s Mika, she’s super nice. And I can message you or your manager when I have the money. Just let me know which one you’d prefer. Or I can have Mika drop it off.”

Shouto gripped the box, then, long, elegant fingers pulling back the flaps for him to peer inside. He looked absolutely delighted to find the scarf actually within. In one fluid movement, he pulled the scarf out, depositing the box behind him, and turned back to grab your sleeve, pulling you quickly into the apartment with him.

“Okay, what are you doing with the scarf this time?” you laughed, breaking character.

One white eyebrow went up as Shouto gripped your wrist firmly, eyeing you closely as he pulled off your baseball cap.

“Mm,” he hummed absently in his deep tone. “Something I should have done the first time.” He caught your other wrist, pressing it into the sinfully soft fabric of your favorite accessory.

You looked at him, bewildered, feeling your mouth twist into a slight frown. You rather liked the way things had gone the first time around, considering that you had ended up with a boyfriend at the end of it all. What was his bone to pick with the first time around?

“Uh, if I’m recalling correctly, the first time went great,” you said to him. “Like, really really great. Christening your countertops several different times great.”

There was a flash of white teeth as Shouto grinned.

“Ah, but I missed an opportunity,” he said. A soft sensation slid over your other wrist, and you looked down in confusion.

Then it hit you what he was up to, and your face instantly went up in flames.

A firm tug had your wrists knotted together, and Shouto smirked down at you, tugging you closer by the silky fabric of your scarf. Your stomach swooped at the intent look in his eye.

“I had been upset you weren’t wearing the scarf,” he said. “But there was an easy way to fix that.”

You swallowed heavily, your tongue feeling strangely thick. Your brain was suddenly, but predictably, very very empty.

“Y-yeah. But technically you, um. You did fix it,” you babbled helplessly, limbs growing shivery with static as Shouto pressed closer. He was so warm, and he was so stupidly handsome.

“I’ve, uh, worn it a lot since,” you managed.

Shouto considered you quietly, a familiar, wry little smile pressing at the corner of his mouth.

Before you’d started dating, you’d been confused as hell by that expression, suspecting it meant he was bewildered by your very existence but was too polite to say so. After just over a year together, however, you had learned that was just what his face did when he thought you were being unreasonably appealing. Which, mystifyingly, was mostly when the working part of your brain disconnected from your mouth.

You scrounged around for other coherent words, thoughts thick and sluggish, like you were thinking through pudding.

Shouto, however, was merciful, putting an end to your suffering by leaning down and taking your mouth with his.

All the coherent thought you’d managed to dredge up melted away like frost under the morning sun. You pressed yourself closer to him, leaning up to give him better access to your mouth. Shouto kissed you as stupid as he always did before a hot hand came up to cup your face, thumb sliding over your cheek affectionately.

“It seems I’ve got you in the scarf as I had wanted,” Shouto said quietly, once he let you up for air. “But now I find that the scarf is all I want you in.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you might have said was as much a mystery to you as anyone. But all that managed to come out was a choked, breathy little noise.

Shouto laughed.

Then there were large hands on your waist, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at the wood paneling of Shouto’s floor as it moved underneath you. Shouto adjusted you over his shoulder briefly, and then he was charting a brisk course to his bedroom, depositing you like an errant pillow back onto his sheets.

Your cheeks burned as he crawled over you, gaze hot and searching.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

You nodded vehemently, eyes pulled to the little flat sliver of his abs where his shirt had ridden up.

“Good, yeah, I’m so good,” you managed to garble out. You were going to be so embarrassed about this later, but as usual when it came to him, you really couldn’t help it. If you’d learned anything in the year you’d been together, it was that you would always have the world’s fattest crush on Shouto Todoroki.

Strong fingers came up to grasp your chin, tipping your face up for another searing kiss. You managed to loop your bound arms over the back of Shouto’s neck, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and pulling him down to you more firmly.

Shouto flattened himself against you, so that you could feel every strong plane of his body, every hard muscle. You shuddered, and you could feel Shouto smirk against your mouth.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, hands pulling at your shirt. You wiggled so that he could pull it out from under you, sliding it up to rest just below the scarf. In the next second he’d also gotten you out of your pants, so that you were mostly bare to him in the cool apartment air.

Shouto looked you over for a moment, looking like he still couldn’t believe you existed. “Having you over the countertops was something that I wouldn’t change. Something that I won’t change, once you move in.”

Your face went hot and you squirmed underneath him.

“However,” he said softly, “I believe I would have liked to have been more deliberate with you. Taken my time with you,” he paused. “Perhaps...I might have made you come once for every photo of me on your twitter.”

The tips of your ears went hot. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t be serious.

You had deleted that twitter over a year ago, and though he’d apparently been allowed access to the contents by his manager (rude) there was absolutely no way he could remember how many pictures of him you’d retweeted. You’d been the one doing the retweeting, and even you didn’t remember, though you thought the number was probably embarrassingly high.

“There was like, one,” you squeaked out.

Shouto’s smile went dark and he leaned over you, his perfect, infuriating mouth so close he might have kissed you again.

“Thirteen,” he said, mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “There were thirteen photos of me on your twitter. All while you tried so hard to act like you didn’t want me, that you wanted to be just friends.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to be my friend,” you protested. You jerked when his hand slid up your side to cup a breast, thumb slipping under the band of your bra.

“You weren’t accepting my gifts,” he said, fingers grazing your nipple. You bit down on an embarrassing noise, letting out a sharp breath. “How else was I to make you take them?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Shouto made another pass over your nipple, and a moan escaped you instead.

“That’s right, love,” he said encouragingly. “Now I’m going to make you give me something in return. Thirteen somethings, in fact.”

He peeled down the cup of your bra, fastening his hot mouth over your breast. You whined, twitching when he flattened his tongue, dragging it slowly over the point of your nipple. A strong arm came up to press your hands down over your head.

“Shouto, thirteen is insane,” you panted.

He paid you no mind, instead swirling his tongue in a way that made your vision blur.

A tugging at your wrists made you look up, in time to see Shouto one-handedly looping the long end of the scarf through the slats on his headboard and pulling tight. Your whole body clenched up at the implication.

The slide of fabric over your breasts told you that Shouto had also managed to get your bra up, and hot mouth closed over your other nipple, long fingers carefully plucking at the other. “We have all weekend, love. Thirteen is ambitious but quite possible.”

You made a weak noise of acknowledgement, hips shifting forward against his stomach.

Shouto laughed, hot breath ghosting over your breast, and then he was crawling down your torso, hands grasping your underwear. He pulled it down slowly, torturously, until he managed to get it off you, then pulled your knee over his shoulder.

You whimpered, feeling like you might actually pass out from how hot he looked, one thigh thrown carelessly over his shoulder, gaze intent, staring down at you like a starving man looking at a hot meal.

You squirmed, trying to pull your arms down to get your hands on him, but the scarf held fast, pulling more firmly over your wrists.

“Shouto, please,” you said, though whether you were begging for him to touch you or to let you go, even you didn’t know.

Shouto seemed to take it as permission. Those two-toned eyes passed over you hotly, and then he was leaning down, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh. You jerked violently, but he held you in place, mouth trailing slowly, slowly down to where you wanted him.

You thought you might actually black out before he got where he was going.

“I can’t believe I ever told you you were unwelcome in my apartment,” he murmured, sucking a slow bruise into the skin at the crease of your thigh. “Once you move in, I’m never going to let you leave it.”

“Oh my god,” you said.

Shouto’s tongue flicked out, catching the edge of your sex, and you tried not to choke on air.

Then, finally, he moved, fastening his mouth over you, exactly where you wanted him. All reason completely left you.

After that, everything was an unbearable flurry of feeling--a soft tongue swirling over you, the tickle of his bangs on your stomach, the press of broad shoulders between your knees. There was the rasp of his sheets between your shoulder blades, the slow, deliberate press of two fingers inside of you, a firm grip on your thigh, fingers digging in tightly.

You could feel every point of connection with him, every minute movement of his mouth over you, and the sensation built up into something so horribly, terribly good. You were unable to do anything but writhe and pant underneath him, babbling something that sounded like it might be an approximation of his name.

Shouto hummed and sucked softly, those long fingers curling inside you. He finally hit a spot that made you see stars, and you practically lifted off the bed, back bowing. Shouto licked you through it, tongue curling expertly around your clit while you sobbed out his name, only slowing when your body went slack, collapsing back into his sheets.

When you could see straight once more, you realized he was staring up at you, that wry smile curling the corner of his mouth again.

You fought down a blush, feeling an embarrassed grin pull at the corner of your own mouth.

“You’re unreal,” you said. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to have you all the time.”

Shouto pressed a short kiss to the skin of your hip. “You already have me all the time.”

You flapped a hand in its bindings. “You know what I mean. I can’t believe we’re going to live together.”

His fingers slid gently over the back of your thigh. “I’d have had you in here sooner, if you hadn’t insisted on graduating first.”

You laughed. He was always so very straightforward about whatever he wanted.

He had been making very unsubtle noises about living together only a few months into your relationship, but you’d insisted that you wait at least a year. He’d grown up with more conservative mores, having been raised a rich boy, and taking things quickly once he knew he was serious about you seemed to be the style of things. But you, despite your frankly unreasonable thirst for your own boyfriend, knew the value of taking things just a little bit slower.

So you’d waited a year, just to be prudent, though you’d known all along how things would end up.

And now he finally had his way.

“I’m all yours now,” you promised, laughing. “Soon you’ll be sick of me hogging the bed, and leaving books everywhere, and getting so blackout at the farmer’s market that we don’t have room for all the vegetables.”

“Ah, you’re using me for vegetable access,” he accused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile he was attempting to smother into your thigh.

“A girl’s gotta have her priorities,” you grinned.

Something lit up in Shouto’s gaze again, and he shifted up against your thigh to lean over you more fully. His fingers gripped the back of your knee tightly.

“I'll make you pay for that,” he promised darkly. “Twelve more times.”

You shivered as he took your mouth again, fingers sliding back between your thighs with obvious intent.

And then you really did. You paid for it.

Twelve more times.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #bnha fanfic #bnha #smut #fluff #bnha x reader

670 notes · View notes

byunbaekby · 5 years ago

Text

Home (l.jn)

Pairing: Reader x Jeno Warnings: Language, loss of virginity, safe sex, alcohol use Summary: The story of your first love, which never truly ends for anyone. Luckily for you, Lee Jeno was the perfect first boyfriend. The struggle for you is trying to be perfect for him. Words: 11.6k

You had a thing for perfection.

It was something that had been ingrained into you from the moment you were born, to an entrepreneur mother and a father who was a cardiac surgeon. As soon as you could walk, you were placed in dance classes and trained from that moment on. You had practically tried every playable club sport in Korea. In addition to these demanding extracurriculars, your parents also expected school to remain your top priority.

It was a tiring life, trying to be perfect. But even so, even you yourself had learned to never settle for anything less than.

The way you meet Lee Jeno is perfect.

It was a rare weekend off for you, without swim practice or dance rehearsal to attend or an upcoming test to study for. You wanted to do something, free from the restraints and stresses of your overworked life—rarely were you ever able to simply let loose and enjoy the short vacation from school allotted by the weekend.

That is how you find yourself walking arm in arm with your best friend Heejin down the trails of the town’s harvest festival, an annual weekend-long celebration to welcome the oncoming Halloween holiday. There were booths manned by the local businesses, contests with sizable prizes, and games for the children to partake in.

As you tread down the pathway with your best friend in tow, you close your eyes and take a slight whiff, relishing in the smell of nature and the breeze against your shoulders. One could never appreciate the idyllic simplicity of life until they were too busy to even breathe. “You really should get out more, babe. I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever,” you hear your best friend saying, her attention turned to the nearby booth selling churros.

“You say that like it’s a choice, Heej.” You retort quickly, a simpering smile at your lips despite the fact that you know it actually is: it is simply you who overloads yourself with work.

“No, it’s not, not with you and your busybody ways,” she replies with a laugh, tugging you along. “I just.. miss my best friend sometimes.”

You sigh, a sharp juxtaposition to the festive mood of your surrounding environment. “I know. I miss you too, Heej. But.. we’re here, right? Let’s enjoy our time together!” Your response brings a grin over your best friend’s lips and immediately she nods, glad to have you back.

The two of you spend the next hour filling your stomachs with sugary treats and playing games intended for children age ten and below. The hour is filled with laughs and grateful glances at your best friend, having been too long since the first time in a long time that you had experienced such carefree joy.

You’re once again sauntering through the pathways of the festival when you hear Heejin’s whispered voice in your ear: “Dude, hottie at three’o’clock in the pumpkin patch. Look at him!”

Your best friend had always been a bit boy-crazy. So, you laugh and turn your attention in that direction, your grin dissipating as your gaze falls upon likely the most attractive male you’ve ever seen.

You catch him mid-laugh, so his smile is the first blessing you witness. Teeth bared in a wide smile, his eyesmile is enough to make you melt, and you feel an overwhelming desire to match his smile. Once you get over your initial shock at the beauty of his smile, you’re able to take in the remainder of his appearance. His hair is dark, shaggy as it falls over his eyes slightly. He has a lanky build, though you can see the slight outline of muscled arms beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. Said t-shirt is bright orange, a typically unsightly color, and from your distance you can make out the words.

Oh, you realize. He’s a part of your town’s youth committee, dedicated to community service and other activities. This makes sense now, as you observe the way he smiles brightly while he helps a little girl pick out a pumpkin. He’s volunteering, you realize.

Your heart swells a bit, and you curse inwardly; it’s already happening.

Before you can register it, Heejin is already tugging you by the arm to the enclosed area, where families can buy pumpkins to make their own homemade jack-o-lanterns. “What are you doing?” You whisper to her in surprise as she pulls you to look at one of the many piles of pumpkins.

“Nothing,” she responds with a knowing smile, feigning interest in the pile of orange squash. “Just getting a closer look.” Not so discreetly, she lifts her head and looks over her shoulder to where Pumpkin Boy is helping the little girl and her family check out, a hefty pumpkin on the father’s shoulders.

“This is a bit too close… too obvious,” you tell her cautiously as she turns back to stare at the pumpkins of animated interest. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in boys; you rarely had time for them, so much that your past flings were barely significant at all before you were forced to break up with them for the sake of your schedule. Now, having just turned seventeen, you had never had a serious boyfriend. If anything, you were wary of boys. Especially handsome ones like him, with a smile to melt a heart.

“Okay, but would you look at him? Why can’t the guys at our school look like that?” She whines, already turning back to steal another look. “Oh- he’s gone.” Her voice is confused, and dejected. With curious eyes betraying you, you follow her line of sight to find that he has, indeed, disappeared from the table he previously occupied.

“Can I help you ladies?”

The sudden deep voice takes you by surprise, and the two of you yelp as you jump in surprise, turning back to find none other than Pumpkin Boy himself, a friendly smile on his face. “Sorry,” he says, a deep chuckle leaving his throat next. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Were you girls looking for pumpkins?”

For a moment neither of you say anything, until Heejin clears her throat and nods while trying to hide the unsettlement in her voice. “Uh, yeah, we were.. Recommendations?”

“Depends what you’re looking for,” he leans down to roll over a pumpkin, moving it into place from where it had fallen out from its display. “Small or big?”

“Small,” is her immediate reply. A small pumpkin would definitely be cheaper, and as he leans down to search for a fitting pumpkin you slap your best friend’s arm, confusion in your eyes. Was she seriously going to put down actual money just to talk to a cute boy? She was unbelievable, but that was why you loved her: where you were quiet and studious, Heejin was always upbeat and bold, something you wished more of for yourself.

Pumpkin Boy soon stands straight again, and hands a small hand-sized pumpkin over to your friend with a thoughtful gaze, as though he truly cared about the state of the pumpkins he was selling. “What do you think about this one?” Without any disagreement she takes the pumpkin from his hands, already nodding.

“Exactly what I was looking for!” She responds, causing you to roll your eyes in amusement.

Though you thought he hadn’t noticed you, Pumpkin Boy turns to you. “And for you, beautiful? A small one too?”

His direct statement catches you off guard, and you swear your eyes widen as the air leaves your lungs. Did he just.. call you beautiful? You can almost feel Heejin’s excitement from beside you. Clearing your throat to mask your shock, you nod before replying with a small voice. “S-Sure.”

Immediately he is down again, searching for another small, hand-sized pumpkin to suit you. When he crouches to do his job, Heejin turns to you with her mouth open and her eyes full of elation, as though to say “He just called you beautiful!” You can practically hear it in her voice.

He stands again, hands sporting yet another pumpkin, similar to the one Heejin currently nests in her hands. “What do you think?”

The sincerity with which he gazes at you causes you to nod. “Perfect.”

“Great!” He responds, starting to walk to the tables where you can pay for your items, your pumpkin still resting in his large hands. Though it cannot weigh more than five pounds alone, your best friend looks to you with an overjoyed look at the fact that he is carrying your pumpkin for you. “I’ll help you two ladies out at checkout then.”

You follow him to the checkout area, where he places your pumpkin on the table that he stands behind. He reads out your prices to you, and Heejin pulls out her wallet to pay first while you observe his side profile. From all angles, he is undeniably handsome.

Then he looks to you, pulling you from your nervous stupor. With quick hands you pull out a paper bill from your wallet and hand it to him, which he accepts with a polite smile.

“You’re all settled,” he tells the two of you, though he hands each of you a business card over the table, one in each hand. “I’m a part of the youth committee,” he explains as you each take the business cards from him. “We’re all in high school, and we’d love to have more members.”

With another heart-stopping smile, he thanks you for your purchase and bids you two goodbye. As the two of you exit the area with your pumpkins in hand (easily handled in only one hand), you bid a silent farewell to him, the handsome boy who you’ll likely never see again. If only, you wish, you were a bit more bold and unafraid.

Goodbye Pumpkin Boy, you think to yourself as you look over the business card in hand. Your eyes bulge at the sight as you flip over the card to the blank side: Lee Jeno :) XXX-XXX-XXXX

You can barely keep the grin off your face as Heejin nearly drops her pumpkin, screaming in joy for you.

Once you arrive home, you text him with Heejin’s encouragement.

She complains half-heartedly that you don’t seem to be nearly as excited as she is, though she congrats you with an amused smile. In fact, your excitement is greatly hidden: you had never been the friend, between the two of you, to get boys’ numbers. Now that you have, a strange feeling of happiness makes its way into your chest.

After Heejin leaves, you text him. New pet pumpkin tucked on the windowsill of your bedroom, you type his number into your phone meticulously, and send the first nervous text.

To: XXX-XXX-XXXX Hi, is this.. Jeno? I’m the girl from the festival.

You frown at the message. It is so bland, so uninteresting. Why had he been interested in you? You’re surprised, however, when your phone beeps only a minute later.

From: XXX-XXX-XXXX Hey. Yeah, it’s Jeno :)

From: XXX-XXX-XXXX Did you make it home safe?

A smile bites at your lips as you quickly type a response.

To: XXX-XXX-XXXX I did. Did you finish volunteering?

His reply is just as fast as yours, if not faster.

From: XXX-XXX-XXX Yup, we just finished putting all the pumpkins away. Heavy, those things.

You chuckle, sparing a glance to the pumpkin on your windowsill.

To: XXX-XXX-XXXX Well thank you for your hard work. I’ll appreciate my pumpkin very much.

From: XXX-XXX-XXXX I hope you do.

From: XXX-XXX-XXX Listen, I’ve got to go but I’d love to talk to you some more. I’m glad you came to the patch today.

Your mind runs over to earlier this morning, when you had greatly battled Heejin’s decision to take you to the harvest festival on your day off. Surely, you should learn to trust your best friend’s intuition more often.

To: XXX-XXX-XXX Me too. I’ll talk to you later.

From: XXX-XXX-XXX Bye :)

You lean back in your bed to suppress the shy, overjoyed shrieks that threaten to leave your mouth and despite knowing full and well that his name is Jeno, you save his number under the name Pumpkin Boy.

Over the next few weeks, you indeed learn that Lee Jeno is just as kind as his first impression.

You learn that his birthday is in late April, a few months preceding yours. Somehow he lets it slip that he too, has never been in a serious relationship. Through a thorough game of twenty questions over the phone you learn that he plays volleyball at his high school as the libero, drives a car older than him, and dislikes mint chocolate chip ice cream.

The ice cream part is enough to cause your mint-loving self to make a face, but not enough to stop your feelings from growing rapidly.

It is the first time that you have freely conversed with someone besides Heejin without inhibitions or worries. Talking to Jeno comes so easily, no second thoughts.

Though he attends a different high school than you, this doesn’t seem to hinder your conversations, and you find yourself always wanting to talk to him. He texts you good morning, and you respond. You text throughout the day between classes, and he sends you one last smile-inducing message before going into volleyball practice. You take this time to study, so that you can be free when he comes out. On days that you have rehearsal, you’re lucky that these after school practices for your dance team occur at virtually the same time as his volleyball practices.

Since your meeting you’ve met only a handful of times. You went out once, to get ice cream (which was how you came to learn of his abominable opinions about your favorite flavor). The next, he invited you to watch him play a match at his school. You had been amazed then, at how this soft kind boy turned into a focused monster on the volleyball court. Then, you had met him for lunch, while telling your parents that you were meeting up with Heejin to study.

You share your first kiss when he comes to play a volleyball game at your school.

It is after the game has finished with your school facing an embarrassing defeat, and Jeno is walking with you down the open breezeways, that he kisses you.

He presses his lips to yours softly, but not without asking for permission, at which your heart warms. Dropping his volleyball bag to the floor without second thoughts, he tilts your face slightly upward by the chin, meets your lips, and you swear your world stops.

You’ve been kissed before, but never like this. It’s overwhelmingly, in every sense of the word, perfect.

Though he pulls away after a moment, you smile with only an inch between your lips, and pull him back to you. In that moment you feel an overwhelming joy down to your bones, and a strange power at your ability to initiate your second kiss. You feel weightless, yet there is an undeniable force tethering you down. It is Jeno, himself.

You realize then, this is what first kisses are supposed to feel like.

When you finally pull away to gasp for air, you register his laughing and a quiet “Wow.”

When he walks you off campus and out to your campus, he intertwines your fingers together. Your hands slip effortlessly into each other, curling naturally as though they were made for each other.

Three months have passed since you met when you’re laying in bed with only your bedside lamp on, hands hidden in your sweater as you FaceTime Jeno.

On the other end, he is wearing a hoodie and grey sweatpants, placing you on his nightstand as he gazes at you from his bed. He props his head up with his elbow, and smiles at you as you go on and on about your day. He peers at you with full interest from over his glasses, which you’ve seen him wear only a number of times.

It’s a Sunday night, nearing 11PM, but you don’t tell Jeno that you have a calculus test you’re supposed to be studying for. For all your parents know, that’s precisely what you’re doing in your room right now. But it’s not. Rather, you’re enjoying yourself with a bright laugh as you listen to Jeno retell a joke that his friend Jaemin had made earlier in the day.

“It was a lame joke,” you tell him once he finishes, leaving you in residual giggles.

“Why are you laughing then?” He raises an eyebrow, though an amused smile makes home across his face.

“Because you’re funny.” is your quick reply, covering your mouth with your sweater-covered hands. You simply cannot help the giggles that escape your mouth, a bright sound in the dull space of your room. Jeno simply has this effect on you; with only a smile or a lame joke, he is able to turn your dreary world into a place of carefree conversation and uncontrollable laughter.

Unable to control himself at how you simply fall apart at his joke, Jeno mirrors your laughter, though the sound is much different than yours. His laugh is deep, and after months of hearing it you start to think that you could listen to him laugh forever.

“You’re so cute,” he tells you once your mutual laughter has died down. At his sudden confession, you have the decency to smile, a warm feeling of espousement spreading through your chest.

“You’re cuter,” you manage with a shy smile.

“Impossible.” If you were being honest, you were surprised at how smoothly Jeno delivered his sweet lines to you, considering his truth that he had never had a real girlfriend. It makes you smile now, thinking that perhaps like you were experiencing all these newfound emotions for the first time, he was too.

A moment of silence passes over you, though you don’t argue. You simply stare at each other, throwing strange ugly faces back and forth as you both attempt not to laugh.

You lose when he makes an irresistible face, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. Exploding into giggles, you lean back in your bed and let the laughter overcome you, though you keep it quiet so as to not alert your parents of your lack of studying.

This was what you loved about Jeno. Never once did he make you feel that you were betraying your parents, for he always managed to make you smile in response.

When you finally quiet down after a fit of laughs, Jeno’s voice is sudden: “Be my girlfriend.”

Immediately your eyes widen, and you look at him surprised. The look on his face is just as shellshocked, as though he didn’t know the words that came out of his mouth. He quickly recovers, smooth as always.

“I really like you, Y/N. I like talking to you, and making you laugh, and hearing you laugh. I like seeing you all shy in your huge sweater, and I like the way you giggle when I kiss you. I like your mind, and the way you think, and even the way you think mint chocolate chip is the best flavor when it is far from the truth.”

His mention of ice cream makes you laugh again, pulling you from your shocked state. Only Lee Jeno himself would mention ice cream in a confession.

“I really wanted to wait, until we were in person. But you’re so busy, and I know you try to make time for me but you still are. And you’re laying there, looking so cute in your sweater and laughing so adorably, and I just-” He stops himself, taking a breath. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?”

A warm smile makes its way across your face as you hug your blanket to your chest, as though you were hugging Jeno instead. “Yes.” You say finally, watching him break out into a bright smile at your response, sporting the famous eye smile that caught your eye in the first place.

Some people desire large grand-scale confessions of love, public and outrageous. On the other hand, some people prefer such moments to be small and intimate. Most people just want their confessions to be in person, actually.

But no, you decide that Jeno’s rushed and shy FaceTime confession is the best form, and the only one you want. It was perfect, and you could not imagine anything better.

Later when you yawn too loudly and Jeno wishes you goodnight with a “goodnight my adorable girlfriend,” you change his name from Pumpkin Boy to My Boy.

Your first date after becoming official is not even a date, really.

Jeno picks you up in his car, bids a nervous hello to your parents, and drives the two of you to the local library, where the two of you plan to study for your upcoming winter finals.

With final exams breathing down your back, the only way your parents will let you out is if you promise to study. Jeno finds no problem with this, so a week after that heart-fluttering FaceTime call, you find yourself pouring over your books alongside your boyfriend.

You were still trying to get used to calling him that.

What you didn’t need to get comfortable with was Jeno’s presence. Despite the majority of your conversations happening over the phone, you felt yourself slip into a comfortable silence with him as you both opened your textbooks.

His hand rests comfortably in yours, fingers curled together as the two of you look over your study materials. The library is quiet, though filled with students.

Though you try your best to focus, it is hard to stay so whenever you think about him next to you. He is wearing another casual t-shirt from the youth committee that you never ended up joining, and dark jeans with his glasses perched on his face. Without even trying, he looks effortlessly handsome. He constantly occupies your thoughts.

“Stop staring,” he says, not looking up from his notes. You pout.

“How did you know?”

“You started rubbing your thumb over my hand and you only do that when you stop reading.” Your pout grows deeper as you continue staring at his side profile, shamelessly now.

“I didn’t realize you were paying such close attention to me,” you respond while returning to your work with a sigh. There was surely no way you were going to be able to focus on physics and calculus with him right next to you.

“Of course I was. Just not as obvious as you,” he laughs lowly, careful not to disturb the silence of the library.

“Hmph,” is your response, as you begrudgingly turn the next page of your physics textbook. Oh, how boring simple harmonic motion is in comparison to the boy sitting next to you, who you’d much rather like to put your attention on.

“You wanted to study, now focus,” he says next, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, leaving you warm with shyness. You simply don’t reply, just tightening your lips to prevent the proud smile threatening to spread across and returning your focus to your pages.

“Ah, so cute,” Jeno coos as he turns back to his textbooks.

Later when he returns you to your home he kisses you on the forehead and wishes you a quiet good luck on your exams. As he turns away and jogs back to his car, old indeed, you smile to yourself and think that this was the epitome of a great first date.

Finally summer comes, and you and Jeno are able to spend more time together.

Graduation has passed, both of you attending the other’s, and university awaits you. Though you and Jeno are attending the same university in Seoul, you know that this is the calm that awaits the storm. So, you take advantage of all the time this summer with the boy who has made his way into your heart.

Sometimes you found it difficult to comprehend that you had made it through six months in a relationship with him, given your schedules and both your lack of experience. Yes, your relationship was a ride, but you would do it all for him.

Especially now, as the two of you are connected in a liplock in his bedroom, you consider giving it all to him. Atop his bed, with him hovering over you with a kiss that makes your head spin, you feel for the first time a strong overwhelming desire.

His tongue slides over your lips and you let him in easily, these lines blurred as your tongue meets his. You’re not unaware of his hands that grip your hips, and the fervor with which he presses his body to yours. Within seconds his warmth is gone, and you pop your eyes open to find that he has pulled away to rid himself of his shirt. A smile makes its way across your face, and the shirt is long forgotten on the floor somewhere when he meets your lips once again.

Though the room is hot, you grow even warmer in the coming minutes as he presses his body to yours, your clothed cores meeting in a burning manner. Moaning into his mouth, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, begging for more friction.

He moans your name in response and groans, about to pull away. It is not the first time, after all, that the two of your have cut your makeout sessions off short.

You had discussed your virginities before, and had agreed that when the time came, it would be right. And to you, it felt right just about now.

“No,” you call out to him as he peels himself off of you and makes a move to get off the bed. Reaching to him, you grip him by the belt hook of his jeans, and pull him back atop of you.

Gaining newfound courage, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, kissing the skin. “I want you,” you moan into him before beginning to suckle on an area of skin.

You feel him tense in your hold, as though contemplating it, and he moans aloud. “Fuck, babe,” he curses as you pull away to reveal a pink spot at his neck, which will surely darken in the coming hours.

“Are you sure?” He asks, breath hot against your skin as he returns the favor, lips and teeth playing over the sensitive pallor of your neck. Yes, yes, yes. A hundred times yes.

You are sure there is nothing you’ve ever wanted more.

“Yes, Jeno,” you respond as you tilt your head back in pleasure, though it leaves your mouth as more of a moan than a reply. Not needing any further confirmation, he pulls away (getting a whine out of you) and reaches over to his nightstand, producing a condom from the drawer.

“I wanted to be prepared,” he explains sheepishly at your look.

“Whatever,” you respond, only reaching up to him to pull him back to you.

And your first time is indeed, with Jeno, all you imagined it to be.

The summer is a blessing.

Over the next few months, you are able to learn about Jeno in an entirely new way. It is almost intimate, the secrets and quirks you discover about this boy of yours.

You learn how to rile him up in a way that will surely end with him pinning you to the bed. You discover the spot on his neck that he loves you sucking on, and as he becomes increasingly daring in the progression of your sexual escapades, you come to find that no matter how rough he is in the act, he becomes the softest lover afterward.

But you also come to learn about what makes Jeno, Jeno.

You come to easily recognize the face that he makes when gaming, brows furrowed in concentration. Though he argues with you that he will watch whatever movie you want, you learn that he will almost always fall asleep in your arms whenever you turn on a chick flick rom com movie. You can’t even be mad at him, because you know he tried. As much as you told him it was okay to watch one of those action movies that he loved, he insisted on watching your movies, and that warmed your heart.

During your first sleepover, you find that Jeno likes to cuddle in his sleep. Though the victim is most often his pillow at home, it soon becomes you which he clings to in his sleep.

And when you’re not falling asleep in his arms, you do it to the careful sound of his steady breathing over the phone. It has become a routine now for the two of you, calling before bed and ultimately submitting to sleep together.

These are things that you have come to love, as much as you love Jeno.

It is what you have always desired in a relationship: the easygoing love, that didn’t ask for much. Comfortable, so much that he can tease you about how you snore and that you can smack him on the chest whenever he makes a dirty joke. So much that him in his pajamas becomes a familiar sight for you, and you learn to stop worrying over and controlling how you look around him. His love, in some ways, is like a blanket, enveloping you in all the warmth you need.

Jeno makes you comfortable, and that’s all you can ask for.

One night, in early August, you are on the phone when he says to you, “It’s 11:11, make a wish.” Instead of listening to him, you make a face which he catches over FaceTime.

“What’s with the face, missy?”

“11:11 is so.. ugly.” You respond, and he laughs, throwing his head back in that typical Jeno-style of his. Though you cannot explain any further, you get the idea that he knows what you mean.

Jeno has, of course, come to understand your affinity for perfection, and your obsession with being the best, as instilled by your parents. Therefore he understands what you mean without asking for a further explanation.

“It rubs you the wrong way, doesn’t it?” You nod. Though everyone claims it to be a magical time, you cannot help but feel that it looks off putting. Why 11:11, and not 10:10? It made more sense after all—ten was considered to be a perfect number, that’s why people say ten stars out of ten. The logic between 11:11 simply did not make sense to you.

Jeno seems to know you better than you know yourself, for he says just this. “I’m sure something like 10:10 appeals a lot more to you, huh?”

“How’d you know?” You ask, genuinely shocked as you tilt your head at him. Had you perhaps said your thoughts aloud?

“I’m your boyfriend. I know how you think,” he laughs matter-of-factly. At his laugh you pout a bit unknowingly, not sure how to feel at the revelation that he knew you just as well as you knew yourself. “Alright how about this. Let’s let the rest of the world be inferiors who make wishes at 11:11, but you and me will have our own special time. 10:10. Yeah?”

The idea is stupid, but you find yourself nodding and smiling at the same time. Warmth envelopes you once again, and you come to realize that this is love you feel for him, strong, potent, overwhelming love.

His idea was definitely stupid, but you were stupid in love with him.

The next morning you trudge your way down the stairs after staying up all night on the phone, looking for breakfast. In the midst of your preparations you hear your phone ring, so you look to it.

From: My Boy 10:10. I wish you’ll have a good day today, love.

You look up to the clock displayed on the stove and find that it is indeed that time. You’re surprised, honestly, that Jeno has managed to remember, though you shouldn’t be.

Yes, summer was a blessing and Lee Jeno was your’s.

Fall approaches quickly, signaling your impending departure from your home and toward adulthood. You are more than excited for your new university life, something you have worked toward your entire life.

And you’re more than thrilled to be doing it with Jeno beside you.

While you’re a business major and Jeno is studying kinesiology, you will be in two completely different buildings but that’s okay. The fact that you get to attend college with your boyfriend, something that you had worried about in the early stages of your relationship, is more than enough.

He helps you move into your dorm, and greets your roommate, Yerim. With his help you manage to unload the majority of your belongings, including many pictures of the two of you. Your roommate doesn’t miss the chance to point out your necklace, to which you smile. Jeno had gifted you a promise ring before the two of you left, and because you did not like the sensation of a ring on your finger, you had slid it onto a chain. It is with an admiring smile that Yerim comments, “You two must be serious.”

Yes, you are becoming an adult, and your love with Jeno has begun to mature.

What you don’t realize, is that it could mature for the worse.

College is busy, and you come to realize this.

Jeno is still playing volleyball for the school team, and his practice schedule is much more demanding than in high school. Likewise, you have joined the school’s dance team, because you simply cannot give up your first love of dancing.

You both have full school schedules atop extracurricular activities and part time jobs. So, it becomes increasingly difficult to plan dates, even study dates which had been your easy escape in high school.

Now, the two of you lay in your bed at the dorm, relishing in the rare presence of each other.

“How about Thursday, after your lecture?” He asks as he inhales your familiar scent that he had begun to miss.

“I work on Thursday from 3 to 7.”

He sighs, warm against your scalp. “Okay, how about after work?”

You make a face, though it’s hidden to him. “I have rehearsal from 8 until 11. How about Saturday?”

“I have a game.”

“Oh, right.”

“Won’t you come? You can come watch,” he says as he pulls his face neck, instead looking down at you. “It’ll be like high school again, remember?” This is said with a smile and a nudge, for he is no doubt reminiscing about your first kiss.

You have to fight to keep the displeased expression from making a home across your features. Sure, you loved watching Jeno play, for he exerted a different energy on the court. However, you had a test on Monday and could surely use all the time you had to study for it. You had been willing to give up time to spend with your boyfriend, but if you attended the game you would only be watching him. If you were only going to be watching him and unable to interact with him until after the three hour match, then you’d rather take a raincheck until you are able to be with him in person. So you tell this to him, hoping that he will understand.

He is Jeno, so of course he does. Simply offering a nod in response, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Makes sense. You should study, anyways,” he says this though he wears a disappointed smile.

“Is something wrong?” You ask as you look up to him with worry in your eyes.

“No,” he replies immediately with a shake of his head. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise. Don’t worry about me. I understand, babe.”

You know he does, because that’s what he’s best at: understanding you. He always has. And so you are not surprised that when Saturday morning comes, and you’re about to turn off your phone to enter the library, you see his text.

From: My Boy 10:10. I wish you good luck on your studying and your exam, my love.

You smile at your boyfriend, ever so thoughtful, and quickly type a response back before tucking your phone away.

To: My Boy Same here. I wish you good luck on your game ♡

The first time you do think something is wrong, is when you return to your dorm a little past 10PM after studying for your upcoming finals.

It is December now, and with your first ever college finals beginning to stress you out, you had invested in a little study group. Your boyfriend had texted earlier, asking when you’d be done; you had told him seven, but it had run a couple hours over.

You are just about ready to jump in bed and text him, only to find him already sitting on your bed when you open the door.

“Jeno,” you call, surprise clearly showing across your face. His eyes are not directed at you, but rather the bag of food that sits on your desk. You can read the label perfectly; it is from your favorite restaurant, about a thirty minute drive off campus.

Had he gotten it for you, because he knew you were stressed and overwhelmed with finals? That was so sweet of him, not that you expected any less. “Did you get dinner?” You ask as you shut the door behind you, already slipping off your jacket to prepare to be in his embrace.

“You said you'd be back at seven.” His voice is tired, but still remains an edge.

It occurs now to you that he’s angry. You two have had your fair share of arguments, considering Jeno was expressive with his thoughts and you had a tendency to ignore things that upset you. He’s angry because you’re late, and you sigh.

“I know, but we got caught up studying. You know much this course has been stressing me out,” you reason with him as you open the bag, pulling out plates of your favorite meals. Though your stomach growls in pleasurable hunger at the sight, Jeno remains seated on your bed with a stern expression.

“I’ve been here for hours. Couldn’t you have left early?”

“For dinner? I was studying, and my phone was turned off. I said I’m sorry, Jeno.” You reply sharply, getting quite annoyed with his behavior. Of course it was thoughtful of him to bring you dinner when you would have just settled on ramen, but he knew how you were when you were studying. Considering that you were taking nearly twice the amount of units as him, you thought he’d understand your workload. “If you wanted to have dinner together you could have just come find me at the library.”

“No, not for dinner. For our anniversary,” he spits out bitterly, turning his gaze away from you.

That’s when it hits you.

Your mouth falls open as your gaze at him; had you… forgotten your anniversary in the midst of your school-induced craze? There was no way. You would never.

Immediately you pull out the calendar from your desk, and search for today’s date.

No fucking way.

You had… forgotten your anniversary. A year ago today, around this same time, Jeno had shyly asked you to be his girlfriend over FaceTime. You had skipped studying to talk to him, and now, you had used studying as your excuse to forget such a monumental date.

Guilt washes over you within milliseconds, and you’re grasping for him. As soon as your fingers touch his arm he stands from your bed, frustration and disappointment on his face.

“Babe-” You call him, but he cuts you off.

“No. All this time I was giving you the benefit of the doubt, thinking you’d come back with some surprise to make up for being late. But no, not only were you late, you forgot. Is your studying that important?”

You are at a loss for an answer, because you know that the immediate answer in your head will only upset him: Yes. Yes, of course your studying is your priority, as your parents made it so. But the question you had to ask yourself was, was it more important than your boyfriend?

The fact that you cannot find an answer upsets both you and Jeno.

In a moment he’s already grabbed his hoodie and turned to leave. “Eat your dinner. Happy anniversary,” he calls bitterly behind him. Within seconds, he is gone.

And you immediately scramble for your phone, looking to call him, text him, anything. You know Jeno, that he gets upset and simply needs time to cool down, so you cannot go after him. But when he calms, you know that he will look at his phone, and so you want to give him something to see.

Your eyes fall upon the clock as you type your message, and though your anniversary is less than perfect, you hope that he will come back to you.

To: My Boy I’m sorry. It’s 10:10. My wish is that you’ll forgive me.

And so he does.

Your freshman year of college is coming to a close, and you have yet to attend a party.

Everyone tells you that it is a rite of passage in university, but you have not been able to pull yourself away from your books long enough to even consider a party. All of your time is divided between school, dance, and Jeno.

Jeno, on the other hand, being a part of the school’s official volleyball team, attends many parties. It is not so much that it is irritating or worrying, but he surely goes to enough parties that he begins asking you to come.

You are packing up your dorm, tucking your decorations into a box when you receive a text.

From: My Boy Hyuck is throwing a party tonight. End of the year stuff. Will you come?

Lee Donghyuck is someone that you don’t particularly like. Though your boyfriend has befriended him through their mutual membership on the team, you dislike the fact that he is throwing parties nearly every weekend, urging your boyfriend to attend. You wish that Jeno would stop being so nice for once, and just say no.

Much like you do.

From: My Boy Please? It’s the end of the year.

Glancing at the message on your lit up screen as you tape a box closed, you sigh. You had just finished your final exam hours earlier, and you wanted nothing more than to cuddle in bed with your boyfriend before you both headed home for the summer tomorrow. In fact, the last thing you wanted was to have to fight a hangover on the drive home.

To: My Boy Not feeling it. I still have to finish packing.

His reply comes immediately.

From: My Boy I’ll help you pack tomorrow. Come on, it’ll be fun.

To: My Boy Jeno, I said no. I’m exhausted and I want to finish packing now so I can rest.

To: My Boy I’m not in the mood to party.

You toss your phone onto the bed, and though it beeps quickly with his response, you don’t glance at it until you’ve packed away another box.

From: My Boy Can’t you have fun for once?

At his message your brows immediately furrow in displeasure and your fingers are quick in typing a response, growing increasingly annoyed by his badgering.

To: My Boy Did you come to university to study or to have fun and fail your classes?

It’s a low blow, for you know Jeno only failed his Intro to Psychology class because it was early in the mornings on the days after his volleyball practices past midnight. But it doesn’t mean you feel any less upset with him.

From: My Boy Wow. Did you come to university to study until your eyes bleed and you forget your anniversary?

Another low blow.

Your fingers move faster than your brain, and you send your response before you can even comprehend what you have written.

To: My Boy Yes, I did. Go to your party. But don’t bother picking me up tomorrow. I’d rather crash than drive with your hungover ass.

Once the weight of your words begin to sit on your shoulders, he responds, and you can almost feel his frustration.

From: My Boy Fine.

You don’t sleep that night.

You had asked your mom to pick you up from your school, and you were glad that she had not asked any questions regarding your original plans to return with Jeno.

Rather, she shows up early in the morning and helps you load your belongings into the car. So early in fact, that when Jeno knocks on your door around noon, all he meets is Yerim who tells him you had already left.

As much as you hate to admit it, there is a bit of satisfaction in your chest when Yerim texts you to tell you this. You had planned to leave at 10AM with him anyways, yet he hadn’t even woken up from his hungover stupor until near noon. It only goes to show that you had been right after all.

Jeno was too much about fun, and you knew that was detrimental to him.

In fact, the two of you spend the first week of summer vacation ignoring each other. He texts you a few times, to which you give short responses. You do not pick up his calls, though you find trouble sleeping without the sound of his breath over the receiver.

This is the longest you’ve gone angry at each other, and this fact does not escape you nor Jeno.

You are already missing him so much, feeling that you’re missing an essential part of yourself, that when he shows up at your doorstep at 9PM one night, you immediately envelope him in your embrace.

Your argument is long forgotten, until Jeno mentions it while you’re cuddling in your now mostly barren bedroom. Somehow, your nostalgic mind throws you back to last summer, to the nights you had simply enjoyed Jeno’s presence in your life and in your bed.

Though only a year has passed, you feel like a new person.

“You know I love you,” his deep voice resonates in your ears, and you nod, your head on his chest.

“And I’d never want to hurt you.” You nod again.

“And you know I’m sorry.” You hum in response.

“And it’s 10:10, so I love you more. And I wish that we can leave this behind us,” he says, referring to your week-long argument. In response, you nod and look up to him with bright eyes filled to the brim of pure love.

“Consider it granted.” This is your reply as you press your lips to his, to the lips you have grown to love so much. On reflex, his hands come up to press at your hips, the body that he has admired in so many ways.

And that night for the first time in what feels to be a long time, you make love. It is perfect, though your love isn’t always. It is a love you have both come to take for granted.

The summer proves to be very different from the last. Something has changed, though you don’t know what.

Though you and Jeno have made up, this doesn’t mean you see each other as much as you’d like, or that your schedules clear up for each other, or that you become more understanding of each other. You take a summer job at your mother’s business, which fills your entire weekly schedule from nine to five. Meanwhile, Jeno busies himself as the assistant coach for a boy’s youth volleyball team which practices every other day.

The days belong to the world, but your nights belong to each other. Because your parents no longer care about the seriousness of your relationship with Jeno, they pay no mind to him spending the night, or you at his.

Tonight it is his bed that you lay in, his chest pressed against your back as he holds you by the waist. As much as you have been arguing lately, finding excuses to avoid him whenever your words hurt each other, you cannot deny that in his arms, you feel safe.

You feel, no, you know, that whatever the world throws at you, you will be okay as long as you have Jeno.

As soon as this thought occurs to you, you feel a strange emotion spreading across your chest, though it is not unfamiliar. There, his arm slung over your waist and his steady breath in your ears, you feel love seep through your veins and consume you.

Jeno is your home. You know that.

He is your person. The one person in the world who knows you for you. He accepts you for your flaws, like your overstudying, your habit of stressing yourself out, your desire for perfection. Jeno knows all these things, and accepts them.

Whenever you make mistakes (and you have made a lot of them), he forgives you. He accepts you with open arms, though you had never even left his heart. And through this he has taught you to do the same for him.

He laughs without hearing your punchline. He smiles for you without needing a reason to. He loves you, cherishing you as though you are perfect when you are far from it.

You know people all over the world spend their lives hoping for a love like this.

“Jeno,” you call to him, your voice breaking the silence though you know he was nowhere close to sleeping.

“Hm,” he hums in response, embrace tightening.

“Why did you pick me that day? In the pumpkin patch. Did you… come to me because you liked me? Or… was it fate?”

Not that you had ever believed in fate. You believed that fate could only work so many miracles: as much as destiny lends a helping hand, one will get nowhere without hard work. Hard work was your relationship.

He is quiet for minutes, but you know he is not asleep.

Finally, he answers. “I came to you.”

“Why?”

“Because. I knew you were special.” You? Special was surely the last word you would use to describe yourself. As though sensing your confusion, he continues. “You stood out to me. In the crowd of hundreds of people, I found you. I felt that you were special, and in the end, I was right. You are special. You are so determined… so smart. Forgiving, loving, strong-headed.”

You turn and bury your head into his chest as he continues to shower you with compliments. Even after almost two years together, he could still fluster you this way.

“I love you,” he finally says, a closing statement. He is good. He is too good to you, you think as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Goodnight.”

You could never let him go. He is your perfect.

Four months later, two weeks short of your second anniversary, you nearly do.

You and Jeno are sitting in your shared apartment, the two of you having decided that you were ready to move in together. It had been a big milestone for the both of you, but you knew you were both ready. In actuality, you only saw each other so often in the apartment.

He’d wake up first and go to the gym after leaving a kiss on your forehead, and by the time he came back, you'd already left for your 8AM lecture. The next time you would meet would be briefly for a shared dinner, between your two discussions and before his volleyball practice.

Then you would slip into bed with him a little before midnight, having just returned from dance rehearsal.

Tonight though, you had decided to skip on rehearsal. It has been a couple weeks since your last quiet night with Jeno, so you made a sacrifice, one he had been begging you to make for a while now.

You know that Jeno misses you, just as much as you miss him. But the weeks are busy, and on the weekends Jeno almost always has games and events to attend. On occasions you join him, but you soon find them to be exhausting.

You much prefer these quiet nights with him, with his arms around you on the couch and a shared bowl of popcorn balanced between the two of you.

Tonight, you are uncharacteristically tired. With finals coming up, you have been overworking your mind to the max, and with the additional stress of dance on your shoulders, you have been getting less than enough sleep.

This is why you find yourself dozing off in Jeno’s arms, your head on his shoulder as your eyes begin to droop.

You love this. It is this comfort that you have long mentioned and adored.

You love that you can fall asleep in his arms, and know that you will wake up safe. You love that he loves you enough to carry you back to bed when you doze off, and you love that he loves you.

You love him.

Just as you’re about to slip into the abyss of sleep, you hear Jeno sigh.

“Seriously? You’re falling asleep?”

His annoyed tone makes you open your eyes, and you do so to find yourself facing his frustrated eyes. “Hm..?” You ask, voice still clouded with fatigue.

His response only reflects his growth in vexation. “We haven’t had a night to ourselves like this in weeks. We’re only thirty minutes into the movie and you’re already falling asleep. Are you that desperate to be rid of me?”

His words trigger a response in you, and you feel a huff of disdain leave your lips. “I’m tired, Jeno. I’m exhausted.”

“And you think I’m not? I have more units than even you this semester, and I have volleyball to deal with. You think I’m not tired, but I suck it up to spend this time with you?” He unhooks his arm from around you and you frown, knowing he is both physically and emotionally retracting from you.

“No one asked you to,” you reply angrily, feeling your annoyance grow by the second.

This seems to upset him the most, because he stands to his feet and begins to pace. You hate when Jeno paces.

“Of course no one asked me to. You shouldn’t have to in a relationship. But lately it’s always, ‘Oh Y/N, won’t you please have dinner with me tonight?’ ‘Babe, can’t you stop studying for two minutes to cuddle me?’ ‘Can’t you skip rehearsal?’ I’m tired of always asking you to put effort in.”

His answer infuriates you and you stand to your feet as well, volume of your voice rising. “I did skip rehearsal for you. And I’m trying my best, didn’t I promise you once that I’d always give my best for you?”

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, because this is your best.”

“This is my best!” You retort, feeling angry tears well in your eyes.

This was not your Jeno. Your Jeno was understanding, accepting. He loved you for all your bullshit, everything that you gave to him. Now your indignation is valid; you don’t recall ever yelling at him, or even getting personally upset, whenever he had knocked out during your movie nights. The nights were he would argue and insist on watching a movie of your choice, only to fall asleep before the end.

You could have made a scene then. Could have yelled at him for being insensitive, and that you would’ve much rather watched a stupid action movie with him than watch a rom-com alone.

But you didn’t. So it infuriates you that he has the audacity to complain, the first time you do what he does so often.

“Well maybe your best isn’t good enough.”

His answer stings, and hangs in the air, for you cannot formulate a response.

Not good enough.

Those were familiar words to you.

You had heard it from none other than your parents for the majority of your life. As much as you loved them, they were to blame for your insecurities, for your inconsolable need to be the best. You would only be the best by working your ass off for it.

You never would have thought you’d hear it from your boyfriend, who was supposed to love and accept you in all forms.

With sad, betrayed eyes you nod and scream back. “I know I’m not enough. I’ve never been enough. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No, it’s not. I want you to argue. I want you to fight back. You never do! You just let things happen, you just ignore them and think they’ll go away. You forgot our anniversary, and didn’t even chase after me. We got into a disagreement, one little disagreement, and you ran home without me.”

“Well fuck, Jeno, you’re saying you want me to be a mess?”

“No, I want you to fucking try for this relationship once. For once, I want you to pick me. Pick me over your stupid study groups, or your nights out with your friends when you barely even have enough nights for me. Pick me over your dance team, or studying, or any other stupid thing you have going on in your life.”

You glare at him, crossing your arms across your chest as he lists off the aspects of your life. “And you think I don’t try?”

He stares, and stares, and stares. You can practically see the deliberation in his eyes, hear his thoughts in your mind. This you can do because you know him, you have learned him from the inside out.

But perhaps you have not learned everything.

“No. I don’t.”

Finally, your tears fall. Hot and angry, they leave wet trails down your cheeks which leave you feeling weak and hopeless. Crying is not weak, you know this. But crying means to you that you have run out of things to exert your frustration into, and this can only mean one thing.

It is the end.

So you turn away, shuffling with quick feet into your shared bedroom, and slam the door shut, ignoring when he comes after you and knocks rapidly on the locked door.

To: Heejin (◕‿◕) Hey Heej. I need you.

It has been weeks since you last spoke to your best friend. Because she decided to study abroad in Japan, you have since become somewhat distant. But she is the only person besides Jeno whom you can run to, though perhaps you are tired of running.

A best friend indeed, she replies within seconds.

From: Heejin (◕‿◕) What’s up babe? It’s so late, what happened?

With shaking fingers you write your response.

To: Heejin (◕‿◕) I think

To: Heejin (◕‿◕) I need to break up with Jeno.

It isn’t until you press ‘send’ that it hits you. Perhaps because you had written it into existence, but your anger becomes replaced with sadness.

Your Jeno.

Your first love, your first. You could not imagine ever letting him go, yet you had just admitted to it. When your phone vibrates, you can tell that your best friend is just as shocked.

From: Heejin (◕‿◕) Oh honey. Call me.

An hour later you have gotten off the phone, and your tears have dried.

You clasp at your bedsheets, though you find that for the first time in your relationship, Jeno has slept on the couch. This is the worst it has ever been, and you can’t decide what hurts more: the fact that you had come to this decision, or the fact that he had let you.

Heejin had spoken calmly in comparison to you.

You had cried, you had argued with her, and you had denied the things she said. Because she was your best friend, she was not afraid to say things that would hurt you. Because unlike Jeno, she knew that you would love her forever.

She had helped you see the truth, and it had become much clearer now.

You and Jeno were no longer compatible.

He had taken you for granted. He only saw you for your shortcomings, for the dates that you had skipped out on or forgotten. He did not choose to see the things you did for him.

Things like making breakfast for him before you left for your class, knowing he’d see it when he returned from the gym. Things like replacing his shampoos, because you knew he was too busy to notice it with the stress of volleyball running in his head. The little things, which required little thought to perform but a lot of thought to recognize.

You had agreed with her here.

Then she told you the ways in which you had wronged him.

You had misunderstood him. No, she had told you, you had never even taken the chance to understand him. Rather than see that he simply enjoyed parties for the sake of freeing himself from stress, you saw him as irresponsible. You wanted to believe that him asking for your time was him being greedy.

You had always expected him to understand you without saying anything, yet you could not even attempt to understand him even when he was saying it, asking you.

What she had told you at the very end, as you were nearly crying into your pillow, was that you had mistaken comfort for distance.

Because you had assumed that he would always be by your side understanding you, it was easy for you to stand him up for unimportant things like study groups and nights out with friends. Because he had understood.

But being pushed to the side had become too much for him, when you began to abandon the great things, like seeing his team win the championship because you had rehearsal, or missing your first anniversary because you were studying.

That was what had shook you to your very core.

You had been pining, hoping for a comfortable, understanding love that you did not realize when this comfort that he had provided you turned into laziness on your part.

And though you were angry at him, you knew that you should be just as angry at yourself.

That night you fell asleep, and dreamt of a handsome young teenage boy in an ugly orange t-shirt, offering you a mini pumpkin and a lifetime of love.

Your breakup went, as you would say, perfect.

You had both seen it coming, and so when Jeno mentioned it two days later, you were not shocked. Just because you had expected it though, doesn’t mean it hurt any less.

Because the house was in your name, he had left it, along with his key on the counter.

Within a weekend he had rid the apartment of his belongings, though he left your shared things behind. Your pictures, the hoodies that he had ultimately given you. Your promise rings.

It scared you almost, how calm the two of you were in the process.

When he left, he gave you a tight hug, and whispered to you for the last time: “I love you.” Except this time, “I’m sorry” followed suit. Then a gust of wind and he was gone.

It was amicable. There was little screaming, there was a polite goodbye. He was kind enough to leave his gifts to you, and to take the gifts you had given him, though you were sure they would soon be discarded. He had even had sense to make the bed before he left, and clear the bathroom of his toothbrush.

Only Lee Jeno would be so thoughtful in a breakup.

And so as you fall to the floor with tears in your eyes and sob on your lips, you hate yourself for falling in love with such a kind, perfect man.

A year passes.

You are in your third year of university now, though you have moved out of your previously shared apartment and into a new, smaller one which occupies less space. You don’t need the excessive room anymore, with only one person.

Perhaps you have moved on.

Originally you had allotted yourself two years of time to let Lee Jeno leave your mind and your heart, that having been the amount of time you spent together. But sometimes, you truly feel that you have gotten over him.

Because you had rarely seen him on campus even during your relationship, you do not run into him on your large campus. You avoid going to volleyball games, or any sports games for that matter.

You even go on a few dates.

First there is Huang Renjun, an art major who you meet when he accidentally spills paint on you. But no, he is too harsh with his words, you learn when he gives you the hell for cancelling last minute.

Then there is Kim Jungwoo, who you meet at the coffee shop off campus. He is a barista, but you cannot find more than attraction for him in your soul because he is not ambitious, he has no more dreams besides making coffee.

You even find yourself sleeping with Lee Donghyuck once, but you quickly find that he is annoying and too brash, not like Jeno.

Like Jeno. None of them are like Jeno, and that is why none of them stay.

And so even though you tell yourself that you are over Lee Jeno, because you can give your number to strangers in the coffee shop and you can sleep with overzealous frat boys, you know deep in your heart, that you have never been close to moving on.

It hits you most when you are alone, especially late in night when you cannot fall asleep. And you remember what it was like to fall asleep in his arms, with his warmth and his breathing which brought a feeling of sturdiness.

Especially tonight, you are in bed early when you think about the fact that today marks one year since he has left you.

As poorly as your relationship progressed, Jeno has changed you for the better.

After your breakup, you came to realize your shortcomings.

It was true that you never made time for anything in your life, especially not for him. You no longer wanted your significant other to have to beg for your time, and so you began to take more time for yourself.

Study less, not that you needed to study as much as you did. Breathe more. Take walks. Sit for an hour or two in the coffee shop without a goal.

It slowed your life down. Jeno taught you this.

And despite the tears that you spilled for him, he taught you how to love.

He taught you that love was not perfect, as much as you strived for it to be. There would be bumps, there would be fights. There would be the pumpkin patch moments; those are the ones that make you feel on top of the world, as though your love could trump all. Then there are the moments of longing, where you haven’t felt the comfort of the other’s presence in what feels like millenia. There also exist times of peril, where you scream at each other and slam the doors in each other’s faces over who falls asleep in a movie.

What Jeno has taught you, however, is that you have to make the pumpkin patch moments outnumber all the other negatives.

He has taught you that like you have to work in life for a degree or a job promotion, you have to work for love. You have to chase after that person when they storm out. You have to calm down, and listen to the other’s words in a moment of anger. Sometimes, you have to forgive them, you have to acquiesce, as Jeno had often done for you.

And most of all he has taught you that you never forget your first love.

Lee Jeno was the perfect first love. He had loved you carefully, with your best efforts in mind. You could not have asked for anything more.

Even if you can have other loves, you don’t want them. You want your first love, and you want him to be your last. You would start over with him in every single way if you could, except you would be better this time.

Even if this is not possible.

You would never be able to return to the way you were, to a bright-eyed boy with pumpkins in his hand and a shy quiet girl with too much ambition for her own good. You cannot ask for him to be the boy you first met, because you cannot fulfill that role for him either.

But you don’t want to return to those days, as good as they were. You want to continue on your journey of growth with him by your side. You will never have the chance to now.

Your phone rings from beneath your pillow. You pull it out, gaze at the message on the screen, and smile.

You had never been able to change his name after all this time.

From: My Boy 10:10. My wish is for another chance to make you happy.

#nct #nct dream #jeno #jeno lee #nct jeno #jeno fanfic #jeno angst #jeno fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #this is loosely inspired by my own life experiences #and lessons #so it was a bit cathartic for me to write #jeno x oc #jeno imagines

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