#also missing are my blonde tips from when i last bleached my hair and also my sunglasses have rainbiw frames | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snackhobi · 5 years ago

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pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant.

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail.

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him.

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage.

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you.

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline.

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then:

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus.

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing.

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano.

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck.

It's too much.

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you.

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him.

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you?

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before.

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach.

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing.

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—"

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you.

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot.

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car.

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth.

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice.

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of.

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core.

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair.

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight.

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts x reader #bts smut #suga x reader #joy.masterlist

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heliads · 4 years ago

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Can’t Leave

Y/N is a HYDRA scientist. Pietro Maximoff is her latest patient. Will Y/N be able to keep Pietro safe in the HYDRA base, even when her own life is in danger?

masterlist

You stare at the ceiling, exhaling softly. Machines beep and whir behind you, and you try to remember everything you were supposed to do before the soldiers arrived. Have needles ready for blood transfusions, check. Make sure the x-ray scanners are functioning, check. Have all the necessary documents and paperwork that are scattered about your desk, check. This is the life of a HYDRA scientist- procedure after procedure.

You weren’t always like this, someone wishing fervently that the end of the day would come so they could block out everything that had just happened from their mind. When things had gotten bad all those years ago, HYDRA had come knocking and you had, unfortunately, answered them. It wasn’t entirely your fault- you needed a way to support your family and HYDRA needed a new scientist. The deal could practically sell itself. It doesn’t matter that you were forced to take part in procedures that weren’t exactly up to the proper ethical standards, or that although the job was advertised as ordinary you knew you would be killed the second you put up your two weeks’ notice. HYDRA was your life now, and you would do well to stand by it.

A knock at the door distracts you from your gloomy thoughts. “Come in.” You call, and the soldiers you’ve been expecting march in, dragging with them one unconscious man. He appears to be about your age, and he’s clearly been drugged so he would be easier to transport. The soldiers strap the man into a hospital bed and then march out just as quickly, leaving behind a few men as guards in case this particular patient tried anything too risky.

You prepare a few sensors and apply them along the man’s arms and legs, then turn to a nearby screen. As the man begins to stir and wake, you study his vital signs. All seems well, except for the fact that his heart is beating far faster than any normal human man. This is to be expected- Pietro Maximoff has been given superhuman abilities, and so he will behave as superhumans do.

The man is fully awake now, and watches you with furtive eyes as you ignore him in favor of studying the readouts in front of you. You prepare a needle, then turn to him. “This is a penicillin shot. It will help with your recovery.” The man looks at you in confusion. “You know, for a HYDRA doctor you seem less crazy than the others. Are you actually a doctor or have they brought in a nurse to placate me and make it seem like HYDRA’s doing the right thing?”

One of the guards struts over to Pietro and glares down at him. “I would advise you to hold your tongue, Maximoff. Remember that you signed up for this.” Pietro returns the glare. “I remember that I was a little forced for a volunteer. Tell me, are all your human test subjects kidnapped or are you just low on new victims.” The guard draws his fist back to strike Pietro, but you fling out a hand to stop him.

“Corporal! The goal is to check on his vitals, not try to damage him. Please return to your post by the door.” The guard looks at you with blank eyes. “He insulted you as well as HYDRA. He deserves punishment.” You shake your head calmly. “The procedures you’ve asked me to run do not involve the protection of my ego. They should not involve yours either.” The guard gives Pietro one last icy look, then storms off to stand beside the other guard on the far side of the room.

Pietro looks up at you in bewilderment, then speaks softly. “Why did you do that?” You glance over at him bemusedly. “Do what?” Pietro looks back at the guard, making sure he can’t be heard. “Why did you stop him? No other doctors would have intervened, no matter how healthy they were supposed to be keeping me.” You laugh softly. “I may work for HYDRA, but I’m not completely a monster. I didn’t want to see you get beaten when you were literally tied down.”

Over the next few days, you continue to check in on Pietro. You run his vitals, you give him necessary injections to make sure the newly given powers won’t kill him, and you find time to have conversations with him. You’re not quite sure why you’re so drawn to this metahuman, but the look in his eyes when he sees you is enough to make you realize that he depends on you not only for physical strength, but to make sure he has one bright light in his otherwise dark existence.

A few weeks after the final procedures have taken place, it’s time to start testing what he can do. Pietro refuses to work with any doctors other than you, saying that it’s because the others were more interested in their own gain than actually trying to help him. The HYDRA higher-ups bought it, but you know that in reality, Pietro wants to make sure he uses his powers in front of someone who won’t torture him if he doesn’t do exactly what is wanted of him.

One day, though, he comes into your training session with a wretched look on his face. You walk over to him quickly. “What’s wrong?” Pietro just sighs disgustedly. “All these chemicals they’re forcing into me- they’re not just affecting my mind, now they’re affecting my body, too.” You look at him closer, and realize that he does not look well. He has dark circles under his eyes, his skin looks pale and waxy, and his hair is turning a bleached white.

You frown at him sadly. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll see if there’s any way I can reduce the medications or something to stop that from happening.” You look back at him, a smile starting to form across your lips. “I do like the new look, though. Blond suits you.” He laughs at that. “Good to know.”

Sooner than you’d like, you get a tip-off from a commander that the Maximoff twins will be pulled to take part in some mission, and they won’t be back for a while. You do your best to finish Pietro’s training, making sure that he’ll be able to defend himself if necessary. You hope against hope that he won’t see danger, that he’ll come back to you unharmed.

You shake your head confusedly. Why are you so worried about Pietro? He’s certainly not the first patient you’ve had, nor the first one you’ve been so deeply involved with. What is it about the light-haired man that makes you so captivated by him?

Pietro finds you the second he hears about his upcoming assignment. He says it’s just to make sure that everything is in order and there’s no worry of his organs shutting down or something, but you know why he’s there the second the doors close behind him.

“There’s no chance that I’m ever coming back. You know that- you have to request to be transferred to that base! If you find a way to make it there, at least I know you won’t be gone forever. You know what happens to metahumans on the missions as well as I do- if they ever come back, it’ll be after years. I need you to come.”

You sigh sadly. “Me transferring to that Sokovian base? Pietro, that’s out of the question. I can’t even request what floor of this complex to work in, let alone what base or what country. I appreciate your concern, but I’m afraid you’ll have to go by yourself. At least you’ll have Wanda there, right?” Pietro looks frustrated. “If you stay here by yourself, I won’t be able to protect you, from invasion or HYDRA soldiers alike. If you come with me, I know you’ll be safe.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “You protecting me? Pietro, are you listening to yourself? When they say you and your sister are the first of the metahuman soldiers, they mean the first to survive the procedures, not the first attempts. I have been saving your life since day one, even if you didn’t realize it. If I go with you, I endanger you because HYDRA will realize that you’re important to me and they’ll find some way to punish you for it.”

Pietro scoffs. “That’s right- don’t want to upset HYDRA. Will your job be on the line?” You look at him with an icy glare. “You think I wanted any of this- that I could just walk out at any time? When I first ‘joined’, my family was on the brink of starvation. If I wanted to save their lives, I had to take HYDRA up. Also, it wasn’t exactly my choice- you tell me whether threats at gunpoint sounds like a comfortable interview to you. I can’t leave this life, no matter what.”

Your tone takes a softer tone. “But you can. When you’re out there, in the base, you’ll probably have fewer guards. Promise me that you’ll try to find a way out. Whatever they’re going to ask you to do, you don’t want to do it. I can guarantee you that.” Pietro takes your hands and pulls you close to him. “I can’t leave you, Y/N.” You look at him, enjoying your last few moments with the man you’ve grown to love. “You have to. Promise me you’ll try to escape?” Pietro sighs, then presses a kiss to the top of your forehead. “I promise.”

After the Maximoff twins are shipped off to the HYDRA research base in Sokovia, you don’t hear anything about them for weeks. You’re given a new project, but somehow you can’t find the energy to be as involved with it as before. When you finally hear that the twins won’t be coming back, you’re not sure whether to be relieved or nervous. Are they safe, or were they discovered? Have they escaped HYDRA’s chains, or were they caught in the act and killed?

Every now and then, you find yourself trapped in a dream. It’s not quite a nightmare, just scraps of memories plucked from your mind and dragged in front of you. You can see yourself working with Pietro, laughing excitedly over his new powers. When you wake up, you can still feel the smile on your lips from that day all that time ago.

You push the thoughts from your head, forcing yourself to get up and get on with the day. Those times are over, and they won’t be coming back. Just as you’re about to head out to the HYDRA labs, you hear a knock on the door. Confused, you go to answer it, and are stunned when you see the blond man waiting for you. “Pietro?”

He casually saunters in. “Miss me?” You laugh and throw your arms around him. “Are you really here?” He looks at you with a smirk. “I got some good advice that I should try and find new job opportunities outside of HYDRA. I’ve come to offer you something like that.” You meet Pietro’s eyes, surprised. “What are you talking about?” His grin could outshine the sun. “There’s a little place I found in the outskirts of Sokovia, somewhere HYDRA won’t be able to find us. I think it’ll work perfectly. All I have to do is one more job for this robot guy, and we’ll be able to live our lives just as we want to.” You beam at him. “Sounds perfect.”

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff imagines #quicksilver #quicksilver imagine #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver imagines #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagines #age of ultron

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auncyen · 4 years ago

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So a long time ago I wrote a start of a fic where Ryuji gets knocked out from Shido's explosion and is thrown back into the real world, unconscious. Ren brings him to Takemi's clinic and then answers Ryuji's phone when he realizes Mama Sakamoto is calling, attempting to make some kind of cover story for Ryuji not coming home or answering his phone before it becomes apparent she ID'd Ryuji from the video calling card. She's coming over to the clinic, and she wants answers.

AND THAT'S WHERE IT STALLED FOREVER. If anyone would like to take a look at what I have of part 2, where she gets to the clinic:

Ren was in the middle of sending an update to the group chat when the door to the clinic opened. The woman who walked in was short and dark-haired, and Ren had the split-second impulse to ask her if she had a real emergency--god knew he didn't want anything drawing Takemi's attention away from Ryuji right now--before her eyes landed on him with a look of such contempt that Caroline might have asked for tips.

The text for the group chat was forgotten. It would have only been to report that there was nothing to report yet. "Sakamoto-san?" he hazarded, his voice wavering.

"Where," she said flatly, "is my son."

He didn't know why it should have thrown him off so much that her hair wasn't bleached blond--of course it wasn't. But even besides that, she really didn't look like Ryuji at all. Short, somewhat stout, with a wider nose and other differences in the face...when it came to looks, Ryuji must have taken after his father's side.

Ren immediately knew he'd rather eat one of his daggers than say that to either mother or son.

"Sakamoto-san," Takemi said, emerging from the back. "Your son is in here. He suffered a concussion and Amamiya-kun brought him to me for examination." Her tone was a bit more polite than her usual, if still casual, and Ren appreciated that maybe she was trying to pull his fat from the fire.

"I want an explanation for all of this," Sakamoto-san said angrily. "...But I want to see him, first."

Ah. Now Ren saw the family resemblance, both in her expression and her protectiveness.

Takemi nodded, opening the door for Sakamoto-san to go in. Ren started to rise from his seat, wanting to see Ryuji himself, but a flat look from the doctor stopped him cold. She didn't want him following.

Logically, he knew Takemi was simply keeping things orderly and controlled. Ryuji's mother was upset, and Takemi knew she was mad at him already. Better to keep him out of the room if Sakamoto-san might take any of Takemi's news badly.

But the feeling that stirred in his gut was blame and guilt, making him cover his face with his hands after the door had closed. He felt sick.

He couldn't deny his responsibility. It had been his idea to stall in the safe room instead of immediately stealing Shido's treasure after Futaba broadcasted the calling card. If stalling had been the deciding factor in Shido being able to manipulate his own cognition and cause the violent collapse... Then it was completely his fault.

He shouldn't even care about what Ryuji's mother thought of him, anyway. That could wait until after Ryuji had woken up. But the cold way she'd looked at him hurt, pathetically enough. He'd really hoped that she would like him. Mostly because Ryuji was afraid she'd be upset when he came out to her--she'd asked a couple of times about him getting a girlfriend. Ren was hopeful, considering she'd supported her son through thick, thin, and hair bleach, and might only be asking about girlfriends because Ryuji was way more vocal about his interest in cute girls than cute guys, but he understood Ryuji's fear. There was always the chance that it would be the one thing too far. So he'd wanted to make a good impression on her when they met, hoping it'd help her accept it better whenever Ryuji was ready to come out.

But Ren had also just...selfishly wanted Ryuji's mother to like him. He'd wanted to make a good impression on her because Ryuji always lit up when he talked about her, and she sounded like a great mom, and Ren wanted someone like that to look at him and think that he could be a decent match for her son. That he was a good kid.

Well. He'd fucked that up already. He pressed his fingers against his closed eyes, forcing a deep breath as he tried to press the tears back. This wasn't the time for being weak and selfish. He had to worry about Ryuji waking up first. Then he could worry about making sure Ryuji wasn't grounded forever, and that he wasn't strangled for endangering Ryuji.

Except that still left him with nothing he could do for the time being.

He felt so useless. He wished he could have taken Ryuji to Shibuya station. If he could have just gotten him to the entrance of Mementos with Morgana, the two of them might have been able to heal Ryuji. But they hadn't been sure if cognitive healing would help when someone was plain knocked out cold in the real world; bringing him to the clinic had seemed the safer bet. But now...

Ren groaned. First he'd left Akechi behind a solid wall of metal on a ship that was now sunk. And now, Ryuji...

Takemi was speaking to Ryuji's mother in the room at length, and Ren rested his head against the wall, hoping to hear through it. Good news? Bad news? He could only hear her tone, calm and level. Takemi wasn't the type to sugarcoat, but she still highlighted better outcomes when they were possibilities to her patients. She'd said once that people often had improved outcomes if they were given attentive care and thought they should get better. She called it a placebo effect. Morgana called it the power of cognition.

But since Ryuji wasn't conscious, he didn't know he was being treated by one of the best doctors in Tokyo. That he should get better and just please wake up.

Ryuji's mother didn't seem any happier when Takemi opened the door for her to step back out into the waiting room. Ren felt his whole body stiffen when Takemi closed the door again, half-expecting to be screamed at, but Ryuji's mother just stared him down. When she spoke, her voice was tightly controlled. "So you're the leader of the Phantom Thieves. What must your parents think?"

"My parents?" he echoed.

She laughed, but it sounded more disbelieving than genuine. "You think they don't know? I recognized Ryuji plain as day under that weird skull-mask. Yours shows even more of your face. Do they actually approve of all this?"

That was a question he hadn't even considered recently, and he weighed what honest answer he could give her that didn't sound self-pitying. No, he didn't think they knew at all. They didn't have reason to look at the calling card too closely. Didn't have any suspicions about his after school activities, or any clue that he wasn't even in school for the time being. Ryuji's phone had several voicemails from his mother tonight alone. Ren's phone hadn't rang once tonight, and it had been a while since he had gotten a message from either his father or mother.

He was taking too long to answer; something in Sakamoto's expression shifted. "I don't have their approval," he said quickly, before she could get further upset. "I act for my own sense of justice."

"An' you dragged Ryuji right along into it," Sakamoto said.

That wasn't quite accurate, but Ren nodded anyway. "...Yes." It had a grain of truth to it: Igor had given the app to him. Ryuji would never have been thrown into the metaverse if he hadn't run into Ren. And it would be better to just get this over with. Take her anger and her blame. It was his fault she was upset.

Ryuji's mother took a long, deep breath. "What happened?"

"It's...hard to explain."

"Sure, you steal hearts and desires and whatnot. I still want an explanation," she pressed.

...He had no idea if she'd be patient enough for an explanation of the Metaverse. He'd bet on not. So he described the situation in broad strokes: "The group was in trouble. Ryuji took a risk to get us out safe. And he pulled it off. We could have all ended up dead if it wasn't for him." Futaba didn't know how to swim. Even for the rest of them, the waters had been turbulent enough that Ren didn't think their odds would have been good, not when they'd also had to navigate to their entrance point in the dark of night, already exhausted from a grueling fight. Perhaps some of them would have made it out...he doubted it would have been all of them. "But he got hurt. I'm--I'm sorry. It's my fault we were in that position."

"Why?"

"I...made the group wait before we changed Shido's heart. I was hoping..." Ren's voice shook, and the rest of the words failed to come.

He'd been hoping Akechi would show up. If Akechi had been alive, no matter if he was hiding somewhere in the Palace or trying to stay under the radar in Tokyo, as soon as they'd took over the airwaves with their calling card and set the Palace's security to high alert, Akechi would know. He would know they were taking Shido's heart. He would know that they would be in the Palace.

He could have joined them. So Ren had asked everyone to wait for an hour in one safe room as he warped between all of them and entrance, checking to see if Akechi would manage to drag himself in. Ann and Ryuji had both volunteered to help, and he'd been grateful, but he figured it was better if everyone else stayed together so they weren't split up between several different locations. When he hadn't spotted Akechi in the hour, he'd come back to the group and asked Futaba if she could do a scan for him--a last-ditch request, since she had every right to refuse to help.

Futaba had looked absolutely miserable. She'd already tried multiple scans. There was nothing. Ren had made everyone wait for nothing. He should have known it was too much to hope after Akechi had closed himself off behind the door. He'd only given Shido more time to counter.

"We were missing one," Ren said finally. Maybe Akechi would have objected to being counted as one of the group, but it was the simplest way to explain now. And he...wasn't going to object, anyway. "I made the group wait, but they never showed."

"They in some kind of trouble?"

The question surprised him a little, but this wasn't a subject he wanted to dwell on any longer. "Nothing I can help with," Ren said.

-and that's it so far.

And I'm just kind of......unsure where to go from there. Which makes me wonder if I should have started the dialogue differently or change something else earlier or...what.

#persona 5 #writing #I am stumped

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kookie-doughs · 4 years ago

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Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 18: High-Key Want A Three-Headed Dog

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Percy said.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given us in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. I had mine mixed up in there in case mine was rigged, Percy insisted upon it.

Annabeth put her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"Don't worry Percy. We'll do this."

He looked at us, and smiled.

He slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy looked at me for support.

"We want to go the Underworld," I said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked. We nodded. I could see Annabeth wanted to face palm.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Annabeth set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash we'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

We were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Annabeth insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I said staring at him.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

I could feel we weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I said. "I never knew you could look cool dead."

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me... they were dead.

Percy grabbed hold of my hand. Annabeth took my other free one. I knew she wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.

I could hear Percy muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one we had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy said. "We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff."

"Humans." I said rolling my eyes, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds and Mrs . Rudolph would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, about fifty feet in front of us, standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, and had three heads.

"I thought he would've been a mastiff."

"Same..."

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to Percy. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost we'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," he said weakly.

Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. Percy had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

I don't know why but petting this gigantic three headed dog would have made my bucket list complete. I walked up to Annabeth with Percy and Grover panicking behind.

"I want to pet him. Cerberus sit!"

"Sit!" Annabeth yelled.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

I said, "Good boy!"

Annabeth threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" I ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

She turned toward the two. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

Percy said, "But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

"You should go too. I wouldn't mind."

"How are you sure he'll follow you?" Annabeth laughed.

"I had a dog you know. Real sweetheart. Pretty sure he'll be as cute."

Grover and Percy inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you guys?" Percy asked us as we passed her.

Annabeth looked at me and nodded. "Y/N wants to pet him," she muttered. "I think she can handle him."

Grover, Annabeth and Percy walked between the Cerberus's legs.

I was tempted to make Cerberus sit to be honest.

When made it through. I said, "Good dog!"

I held up the tattered red ball. The ball was tattered and this is going to be the last trick.

"Cerberus, could you get closer to me?" I called hesitantly. All three heads leaned down.

Oh gods... Oh gods... I'm going to pet him... I reluctantly touched his head. His head leaned to my touch. "Good boy." I cooed petting each his head. He whimpered on my touch. "Okay boy." I leaned my head against his middle one.

I threw the ball. The good boy's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, I walked under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"Bucket list solved." Annabeth and I fist bumped.

"How did you do that?" Percy looked at Annabeth and I, amazed.

"Obedience school," Annabeth said breathlessly, "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

"I had D/N you knew that." I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "I promise I'll play again!"

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth and I stopped.

We turned to face the cutie which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I promise we'll come back." I turned to the others. "Let's go."

Grover and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pulled Annabeth closer as she wipe a tear from her cheek as we listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance,.

"We'll come back..."

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Percy Jackson X Y/N #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Y/N L/N #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #x y/n #x reader #fanfictions #Lightning thief #Chapter 18 #Book 1

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loveydoveyfrog · 4 years ago

Text

fallingforyou pt.1

Um hi I haven’t written anything in years I’m sorry if this sucks. I might continue this? idk yet I’ve just had this particular scenario stuck in my head for days. I tried to make it as inclusive as possible, but if you notice me doing anything that really limits that, please let me know! I’m always always looking to improve :> thank you!! (also if u find a grammar/spelling mistake plz lmk so i can fix)

- - - - - -

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x Reader Words: 1.7k Warnings: None? Tripping on stairs but you don’t get hurt. Part 2

You gathered your notes, breathing a sigh of relief as your long morning lecture finally came to an end. You loved your course, of course. You wouldn’t be paying to study it at university if you didn’t, but you had to admit a three hour lecture on a Monday morning could feel more like a chore than a passion.. Your best friend and faithful study buddy joined your side as you grabbed your fleece lined denim jacket and shrugged it on, slinging your bag over your shoulder, eager to leave. Before you step forward, your friend stops you in your tracks.

“Hold on, your hair clip is all crooked,” they attempt to fix it, but instead unclip it and hand it to you instead. You take your Halloween pumpkin decoration and clip it back into your hair, posing a little for your friend, wordlessly asking how does it look?

“Perfectly spooky” they said with a thumbs up. You and your friend had a shared tradition of wearing Halloween accessories throughout October in celebration of the best and spookiest holiday. Today you wore a small, sparkly yet quaint pumpkin clip in your hair, whilst your friend opted for some novelty socks. You thank your lecturer as you leave, yet the second the two of you left the room and were out of earshot, your friend sighed loudly and began to whine about this section of your shared course.

“Did you get ANY of that?” they asked as you headed for the doors that led to the staircase.

“Which part? We covered quite a bit.” you respond idly, pushing the doors open and letting them pass first.

“ALL OF IT. Ugh, I miss our lecturer from last year, he made everything so much clearer.” they continued to complain as you started to make your way down the stairs after them. After a few steps, lost in conversation regarding the class, you accidentally misplaced your footing on the stairs. Your breath hitched. The next few seconds seemed to slow down to a painful crawl as you felt every sensation in detail; the way you didn’t feel the security of the next step beneath your foot, the way your centre of gravity shifted and tipped you forward, the way your stomach dropped and your eyes shut instinctively to avoid looking at the quickly approaching ground, the way a hand caught a firm grip on the back of your jacket’s collar, keeping you suspended in mid fall.

Huh?

Your eyes blinked open, heart hammering as the lights suddenly seemed too bright, every sense amplified from shock. You immediately notice you didn’t feel the harsh impact that you were expecting. Instead, you felt a tension around your neck and shoulders as your jacket was pulled taut to keep you somewhat upright. Your friend’s eyes were equally wide with surprise, not having time to ask if you’re ok before their eyes shifted to the figure behind you. Their stunned expression was met with a deep chuckle, one you felt rumble through you as they pulled your form back to press ever so gently against their chest, hand placed firmly on your shoulder now, as if to prevent you from falling again. You turned your head to thank whoever caught you, though given they were quite a bit taller than you, you had to slightly twist your body out of their grip to face them (though you noticed their hand moved from holding your shoulder to resting against your arm).

If your face wasn’t hot from embarrassment already, it sure was now. Your thank you was caught in your throat when you turned to face your mysterious saviour. You definitely heard a quiet wow go through your head when you were met with warm, amused brown eyes, and a smile that melted into another round of chuckling as his hand left your arm to brush through a mass of bleached yet brilliantly blonde hair. He seemed… somewhat familiar, but you didn’t recognise him from any of your classes. Either way, your heart was flooded with relief that he happened to be behind you. You took in more of his appearance; the way his dark eyes looked as though they were liquid honey when the light hit them just right, and the way his dark green hoodie matched said eyes perfectly, and the way… those glowing eyes followed yours as his humoured expression altered, a new kind of tone present in his smile, one which made you realise you were staring at him as though he was made of gold. You quickly snapped out of it, your face growing even hotter for having been caught looking at him for so long without even saying thank you.

“Sorry- I mean, thank you,” you stuttered. The boy before you smiled again and let out a pleased hum. His eyes caught the sparkly, Halloween themed clip in your hair. Cute, he thought to himself as his eyes met yours yet again.

“No worries, ya just need to be more careful, Pumpkin,” he mused. The nickname made you flush yet again as you tore your eyes away from his intense gaze. This interaction seemed to last forever. “Do you need me to walk you down the stairs? We’ve still got quite a bit to go,” he teased, though his voice didn’t seem to be laced with the malice of a typical bully. He sounded playful.

“No, thank you,” you responded curtly, walking down the last few steps to where your friend still stood. Their eyes glinted with entertainment and poked you in the side. You lightly slapped their hands away and nudged them to continue down the last set of stairs.

“Well, I’m right behind ya if ya need me,” he said leisurely, walking a couple of steps behind you. You didn’t respond, only walked in embarrassed silence as your friend tried (and failed) to hold back their giggles at the boy’s comment. He had a proud grin on his face, basking in the attention and laughs from your traitorous friend. The journey down seemed to last a century, but eventually you made it down safely. Heading out the double doors, you breathed in the crisp Autumn air as it cooled your warm cheeks. You readjusted your jacket as you and your friend regrouped. You avoided their eyes, though in the process you caught the attention of Stair Boy. He flashed you a smile and waved as he passed the pair of you.

“See ya ‘round, Pumpkin.”

You watched him till he turned a corner and disappeared behind a building, after which you promptly slammed your face into your palms, muttering incoherent nonsense as your friend finally lost it and doubled over and cried with laughter. You groaned, dragging your hands down your face, tugging your lower eyelids and cheeks with dismay.

“Oh my Goddddd, I can’t believe that just happened” you whined, growing more and more annoyed with your friend’s incessant laughter. “OKAY I get it, it was funny, shut up now.” you snapped. Your friend started walking as they took deep breaths to calm down. You followed, arms crossed.

“Okay, I’m sorry, you just really. You really FELL FOR HIM,” they managed to choke out as they spiralled into another fit of laughter. You punched their arm.

“He was BEHIND me! I couldn’t have fallen for him if he was behind me, I didn’t even see him!” You exclaimed as you tried to defend yourself, waving your arms around madly trying to illustrate your point.

“Alright, alright… Pumpkin,” they teased. Had you not been outside, you would have thrown a shoe at your supposed best friend. They saw anger flash in your eyes and dodged your oncoming attacks as they ran away a giggling mess. You chased them a few meters then jogged to a stop, panting in the burning cold air. You waved an arm with a dismissive whatever. The two of you approached one of the campus cafes, the entrance adorned with paper bats, window sills draped in cotton cobwebs and the door guarded by a pair of crudely carved pumpkins. The two of you entered, the door’s usual bell drowned out by chatter that filled the small, cosy space. You flopped into one of the seats, shrugging off your now infamous jacket and rested your chin in your hands, letting out a long sigh. Your friend sat beside you, mirroring your actions.

“Well, hey, at least no one else saw,” your friend bargained, attempting to lift your low mood.

“True,” you admitted nonchalantly, your eyes still trained on the wall before you. Your friend elbowed your side playfully,

“And he was cute, too,” they quipped. This caused you to groan and lay your head on the table. After a few miserable seconds you turned to face your friend, not lifting your head from the wooden surface,

“Yeah, he was” you agreed with a pout on your face. “And now he’s gonna think I’m a clumsy fool forever and I’m probably never ever gonna see him again.” You planted your face back on the table in defeat. Your friend, on the other hand, shrugged in response.

“You never know, y/n. Sure the campus is big, but he WAS in our block today, so you might see him again. On Mondays at least,” they suggested. You sighed and rested your chin on the table, shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, maybe, I guess… maybe,” you mumbled.

“Besides, he definitely thought you were cute too.” This made your head shoot up in curiosity a little too fast. You tried to feign disinterest when you asked,

“What makes you say that?” you looked at your friend expectantly when they gave you a look.

“Pumpkin. Seriously?”

“Ugh,” you gave them another dismissive wave, “That didn’t mean anything. That was only because of this stupid clip.” You pointed to the orange ornament on your head.

“Y/n. He said it twice. Besides, he could have called you nothing at all. Not to mention, didn’t you see the way he looked at you?”

“It just seems like he was teasing me and messing around,” you argued. Your friend sighed and turned to pull a notebook and pens out of their bag.

“Whatever you say, y/n,” they said as they began to summarise their notes from your previous lecture. You tapped your fingers on the table, waiting to see if they’ll make further comments, but they seem to have finally given up. You retrieved your own notes, though the only thing you seemed to be able to focus on was a particular set of brown eyes.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #haikyuu!!#atsumu haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #idk what else to tag lol

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gallivantingheart · 4 years ago

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Me, a Princess? Shut Up!

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⏮️ chapter 6: mulan ⏭️

who?: jihoon/woozi x (f)reader

word count: 1717

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: mild coarse language

synopsis: Life’s pretty good for y/n. Easy, even. Until someone claiming to be her grandmother says she is the queen of a small island country - and y/n, a princess.

a/n: i have no reason as to the TWO WEEK wait, but i still hope it’s okay. Also, I know nothing of international politics or table etiquette, don’t @ me

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

TAGLIST: @strykiss, @karrotkarrotkarrot, @3sriracha, @minkwans, @annakemi, @chaseyui,

don’t hesitate to send an ask or dm to be added!

Soonhee follows you with eagle eyes as you circle the dining room, elaborate table setting laid out along with decorative lemon themed table centrepieces.

“And who sits next to France?”

You rush to answer, not facing her. “Belgium. Like on the map, because France and Germany don’t get along politically.”

“And across from Germany?” She calls, idly adjusting forks and spoons.

“Thai - uh, Spain, sorry. Thailand is next to Spain, before myself. Then Soonyoung and yourself at the head of the table, north.”

You pause to turn and wait for Soonhee to assess your answer. She’s dressed in a silky champagne two piece blazer and skirt, her blouse designed with a high neckline and thin necktie. The click of her heels are a constant, reminding you of a metronome - just to torment you a little more. She nods, finally.

“I didn’t quite ask for all of that, but yes. You are correct. Have you had your final fitting? You must be presentable before the attendees. Reputation and first impressions are vital.”

You bite the bottom of your lip, nodding. “I had it the day before last. Everything is as ready as can be.”

“Hmmm. You are dismissed. I suggest you study on the conversation topics from last week and compose yourself before tomorrow. Please be here at 1pm, sharp. Antoni insists on natural light and I wish to be ready as early as possible.” Soonhee still doesn’t look at you when she speaks.

As much as it makes your blood boil from the aloof and disparaging manner in which she speaks to you - and only you, it seems - you push down any unpleasant urges against her. She’s a queen; a ruler of a country. No doubt not used to her opinion being challenged, much less by someone your age. There are better things to utilise your energy on rather than fighting the brick wall that is your grandmother.

“Yes, grandma.” You’ll still push the envelope and call ther that though, something a little less formal for the times. “See you tomorrow.”

You instantly turn out the room, pulling your phone out of your back pocket. Those dreadful heels click hastily after you.

“And no socialising tonight! We can’t afford any bad press or late nights for anyone.”

Her voice has never been loud but it carries remarkably well. You huff and jam your phone away, a chicken and drinks session with the boys off the cards. Mingyu is out of town on another holiday with family, so it would have been Minghao and Jun, your fellow foodies.

Despite the early bedtime, you can’t seem to sleep, tossing and turning, tangling yourself in your sheets. You hope Antoni is as good at hiding sleepless nights as he is at shaping eyebrows.

The dress is beautiful, of course. (You had the wine gang help you choose over text. Secretly, of course.)

And while you’re still sceptical of Antoni after the debacle he caused concerning your identity, he blathers on and on in apologies as he pins and fiddles with your hair so you don’t mind too much by the end of it all. Soonhee seems to think he’s redeemed himself - the queen’s word is law. Soonyoung looks super chic in his blazer and turtleneck. You pout at him in his fashionable attire no one else in their stuffy suits appears to bat an eye at.

“Soonie you look great.” You say from the bottom step of the main staircase - grand entrance and all.

He can’t help but preen. “Thanks, as do you, Boss.”

“Gross. But I look like a glitzed up puffball. If I had known that it could have been more casual I-”

The queen cuts off your whining as she glides over in a gauzy ivory gown, crown glittering with every light fixture. “Y/N. Very appropriate. Soonyoung, handsome as always. Are you sure you don’t have my genes?”

What? A - A joke? Where? You have to forcibly shut your mouth from the conversation in front of you. Soonyoung has a steady dancers’ posture - or maybe just a royal one. Straight spine, relaxed held back shoulders and a level gaze. You twist your fist in the many layers of your skirt, to both hide and release the frustrating tension radiating through you. The ambassador laughs, fluffing shyly at his bleach blonde fringe.

“Oh, ahaha. Your Majesty, no. No, I do not.” He mumbles.

You dip yourself in a short bow before dodging the pair in order to attempt to mingle. Droning conversation topics flick through your mind, like forcing the pages of a book. Finally, you set your sights on the Swedish ambassador, if only to talk about Eurovision - the one fun subject allowed to be discussed with you.

You find though, that most of the conversations you attend cycle through the same process. The notice of your presence and an introduction between you all - ministers, ambassadors and their companions. Then a resuming of the current conversation, you being too afraid of looking stupid to add any effective input. You have to bite back a sigh of relief when dinner is announced.

Soonyoung is right. You need a spoon for the cool soup served. He flicks the edge of the one you are supposed to use and you kick his ankle in thanks. The conversations from the foyer are carried into the dining space and you lose India to Thailand. Soonyoung is chatting avidly with Scotland across from him, his hands gesturing from their place on the table cloth. Despite this, main course goes swimmingly, a chicken lemon dish on rice with a hint of garlic and herbs. You hesitate on your chopsticks before picking up a knife and fork like most of the other dignitaries. You feel eyes on you and glance over to see Soonhee evaluating you from the head of the table. She still manages to look severe to you, even with the amicable situation - but maybe you’re just imagining things.

It’s when dessert is around the corner that it falls apart. Spain’s representative, a lovely man named Eduardo is discussing the lemon market of Amaide with you, something you are luckily very proficient with. As you speak, you demonstrate the incline of the market, you tip your water glass over. The elder man, easily in his fifties, smiles warmly and lets you fix it up with an apology to him and the waiter on hand to clean it up. Thailand’s eyes squint at you dubiously and you bow back to them. You describe the style of orchard the royal lemon ceremony is held in, gesturing over your shoulder at the Queen Mother, and the critical breeding of the trees that grow all over the country. A stray hand wave collides with the melting ice bucket with a clang, tipping it sideways… all over Eduardo. Now the pleasant man is drenched from head to toe, Portugal catching the spray and flying bottle of champagne. Thailand is awash as well, nowhere near as bad, but he seems to seize up in panic, dabbing and pressing at his shoulders and sleeves. The dining room is in a commotion now as you bite your lips and frown, grabbing your own napkin to dry down the man next to you. Your hair is damp, slowly going fluffy and frizzy from the water. People are standing up, including yourself and Soonhee.

“I-I-I’m so sorry. I’m not usually this clumsy! Are-are you okay, Eduardo?” You protest.

He shoots you a severe look, only tempered by the reputation of every single person in the room. Obviously not. You chew harshly at your lip as the waiters fuss and someone talks quietly about offering a change of clothes.

You look around the dying chaos - even Soonhee is amongst it, joining in on the many dabbing gingerly at the spanish ambassador’s suit with a napkin. Soonyoung catches your eye as you slink backwards towards the ajar french doors, leaning over to the waiter.

“If anyone asks, I’ve gone to the power room, okay? I-I, uh, shouldn't be too long.” You murmur out the corner of your mouth.

He glances at you, nodding. Soonyoung frowns, gesturing with a discreet finger back to his side. You shake your head, signalling a time-out. You hike up your skirts the moment you turn the corner, clacking down the dim hallway as fast as you can to pick up your purse from the cloak room. Making a detour, you go for the east bathroom, in favour of the north one closer to the dining room.

Slamming the door behind you and locking it, you turn the toilet lid down to sit on it for a moment. A time which gets longer and longer the more you worry your lips to oblivion, thinking on your next move. There is no salvaging what you just did. Humiliating yourself, your victims and the Queen Mother - and by extension, your entire country. No. Surely you couldn’t stay. But how to get out of the embassy without causing more of a fuss? You check the time. Only forty minutes left of the dinner anyway. They couldn’t miss you while still cleaning up. Your stomach turns and lurches heavily, so you turn to press your face into the cool tiled wall.

So, leave. But to where?

No one was in the city, having gone away for the break. Certainly not just home. You wanted just a moment away from everything. You peek your head out into the empty hallway. There is an employee exit next to the kitchens - only the cctv would see you then. But where to? Jihoon? Would he still be around? Would he be okay with seeing you?

You set up a ride for the university before making a break for it, gasping as you lose a bracelet, snagged on the curled handle of the door. Punching in the default entry code, you power walk over the concrete and gravel out to the side street as a little green bug of a car pulls up.

The window winds down to show a man in his early 30’s. “Ride for Y/n?”

“That’s me. Thanks.”

You glance back over your shoulder, through the wrought iron gates to the deadly still building. Jumping in, you tug your long, fluffy skirt in after you.

Bonus

#caratwritersclub #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen social media au #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine #jihoon fic #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #seventeen smau #woozi fic #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi x reader #jihoon x reader #seventeen woozi #seventeen jihoon #mapsu fic #written

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jjoutermaybanks · 5 years ago

Text

Electric Love || JJ Maybank x Reader

part one part two part three

summary: you’re the newest member of the pogues, a girl living with one foot in the rich life and one foot in the risky life. you fit right in with the crew, especially the charismatic, annoyingly attractive JJ. how will a drunken night of deep conversation and a dreaded summer party change your friendship forever?

word count: 4k

warnings: reference to abuse, flirting and fluff

*not my gif, credit to owner*

PART ONE

The Wreck was buzzing with activity. Your shift was nearly over, but the number of diners had yet to start shrinking, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. Kiara, your best friend and coworker, hurried from table to table trying to keep up with the mid-afternoon rush. Plates of steaming food were piled high on your tray as you wove around the tables, depositing drinks and appetizers with ease. Although you’d only been working there for the month of June, you’d slid right in and picked up all the right skills to be a prized employee. Kiara met your encouraging gaze across the room and smiled, throwing a thumbs up. She was probably thinking about the plans you two had with the guys after work; in a matter of minutes, John B, Pope, and JJ would burst through the doors and raise hell in the small restaurant. You couldn’t wait.

Despite the short amount of time you’d been in the Outer Banks, you loved every second of it. You and your mom made the move pretty suddenly, and you were worried you’d spend the summer friendless and wandering around the island alone. But within a week, you’d noticed a certain group of misfits always parading around causing chaos. For a few days you shadowed them, fascinated by the adventures they went on. And then one day, the loud-mouthed blonde one spotted you sitting alone at a beachside bench and demanded you join them on their latest expedition. Later you learned his name was JJ, and you owed him everything because he introduced you to a life of exhilaration.

Now, weeks later and after many perilous antics, you were just another Pogue. You gossiped with Sarah, joked with John B. and Pope, ranted with Kiara, and flirted with JJ. He was just so damn charming, and his smile made you roll your eyes as much as blush. It was all friendly banter of course, because of the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule. However, Sarah and John B. sort of complicated that now, and even Pope and Kiara were crossing some lines. No one had offered to change or eliminate the rule, so everything was sort of in limbo. You knew not to push things with JJ though, since you wanted to preserve the friendship. The last thing you wanted was to ruin things and have to spend the summer alone again.

Time was ticking, and in a few short minutes you’d technically be free to go. But upon seeing Kiara’s overwhelmed expression as she approached, you knew it would be more than a few minutes.

“Dad wants us to stick around till the crowd lessens,” she explained with a pout. “The only thing is it’ll take hours for this crowd to disappear.” She gestured to the overly full dining room, and you groaned.

“Aren’t there people coming to take over our shifts? We have plans.” You had been anticipating the day for a week now; after work, a quick trip of delivering groceries would help you unwind before the party the Pogues were throwing on the beach. It would be your first real Pogue party, and you couldn’t wait to meet more kids from The Cut and even some snobs from Kookville. Despite not living in The Cut and having a bit more money than your friends, you didn’t consider yourself anything close to a Kook. Your mom might have been trying to get in with the rich crowd, but you were more than satisfied with your band of misfits.

“Yeah, but you know we’re the only capable waitresses who work here,” Kiara joked, and you chuckled. She was right; you two always got the most tips and the most tables turned in the shortest time. You were the dream team of The Wreck, so if anyone could deal with this crowd it was you two.

The next ten minutes you both hustled to get as much done as possible; you were practically running to give people their bills so they’d be out the door. And this speedy method actually worked; enough tables cleared that you could take a breather.

All of a sudden, a familiar chorus of voices sounded behind you. Whirling around, you grinned as you spotted your best friends marching into the dining area, already chanting and laughing and annoying the customers. This was their best tactic since it forced Kiara’s dad to let you two leave. Once you left, the obnoxious teenage boys would be out of his hair. It was a win-win.

“Y/N!” JJ called, blue eyes sparking with mischief as he swung his body around the tables to stand beside you. His beachy blonde hair was pushed off his forehead and blowing in the warm breeze, his tanned skin shining with slight sweat. “I almost forgot how good you look in that apron,” he commented, whistling approvingly as you smacked his arm and smiled.

“No hitting on me while I’m on duty,” you scolded him, suppressing a laugh as he mocked you for saying duty. You practically had to shove him away in order to finish your shift, but his infectious energy caused a wide grin to stretch across your lips all the same.

“Some time today, Kie,” John B. whined, drumming his hands on the tabletop for effect. “So much to do, so little time.”

Kiara snorted, pouring fresh lemonade into a few glasses. “The party doesn’t start till sundown, and besides Pope doesn’t have that many groceries to deliver.”

Pope shrugged, admitting she was right. “But still, wouldn’t you rather waste the day on the water than in here?”

Kiara frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. “You’re right,” she grumbled. Her brown eyes peered around the corner for her dad, spotting him and pasting on the sweetest smile she could muster. “Alright Dad, that’s it! Me and Y/N are outta here!”

Before he could protest, you both tore off your aprons and threw them onto the counter, sprinting out of the restaurant as fast as you could. It was only a short run to the docks where the trusty HMS Pogue was waiting for your arrival. As you ran, you felt Pope, Kie, and John B. hot on your heels with JJ closer to your side. You liked to brag that you were by far the fastest Pogue, and quite a few sprints had proved that point. JJ still liked to challenge you though, and today was no different. As he tried to keep up with you, you laughed and tilted your face to the sun, letting your long hair out of the messy bun you kept it in for work. As the long waves of sun-bleached hair fell on your shoulders, blown back by the wind as you ran, JJ faltered his step and began to lag behind.

“Ha!” you yelled triumphantly, fist pumping. “Slow-pokes!” You were the first one to reach the dock, breathing hard but satisfied with the exhilarating run. JJ was second, and he hunched over his knees, panting.

“Damn you, Y/L/N,” he wheezed, shooting you a toothy grin. “Caught me off guard with that sexy hair flip.”

You laughed and pushed at his shoulder. “In your dreams, Pogue.” You glanced over and saw Sarah jogging over to join you, stopping first to kiss John B. of course. You wrinkled your nose at their PDA, but also felt a pang of jealousy. They were crazy in love, it was hard not to envy them.

JJ caught you staring and elbowed you. “Could be us, you know,” he prompted, a suggestive smirk on his lips. “You’re missing out big time.”

You were about to sock him on the chest when Pope forced himself between you two to get on the boat.

“Alright guys, we actually have a job to do now. My dad’s probably waiting for us.” You gave JJ a warning expression and mouthed I’ll get you later before climbing onto the boat. John B. took the wheel with Sarah at his side, and Pope and Kiara sat next to each other by the front. JJ whipped his shirt off and sprawled out on the back floor, arms flexed behind his head as he soaked up the hot sun. You sat beside him, legs swinging as you felt the spray of water when the boat took off. The lazy sun, the warm water...you were absolutely in love with the Outer Banks.

The group chattered endlessly for the whole ride, never ceasing even when Pope went to collect the groceries for the day. JJ attempted to show off with a hacky sack, but ended up kicking it into the water.

“No no no no!” he wailed, arms waving wildly. “John B., you gotta stop bro! Man overboard!” Slowly, the boat came to a halt in the water, and everyone laughed as JJ pretended to freak out. “I can’t see her anymore! Oh my god, I loved that sack!”

You scoffed, standing up and discarding your shirt. You had spotted the hacky sack floating just a few meters back “Relax, JJ, you’ll survive.” You then took off your shorts, left only in a bathing suit, before stepping onto the side of the boat and swiftly diving into the water. You broke through the surface and were immersed into refreshing water. Coming up for air, you turned back to the boat and saw JJ leaning over the side of the boat, gaping at your bold action.

“Hey! Now we have two men overboard!” he called, and you giggled as you kicked your legs to stay afloat. Spotting the hacky sack, you dove back under and swam over to it, snatching it up and waving it in the air.

“She’s a hero, ladies and gentlemen!” Sarah announced with a grin. You pretended to bow and accept the congratulations before swimming back to the boat, pausing before grabbing JJ’s extended hand. He only needed to use one arm to pull you up effortlessly, landing you sitting off the side and smiling breathlessly before tossing him his beloved hacky sack.

“You’re welcome, you big baby,” you chuckled, gasping when he suddenly gave you a big hug. Your dripping body pressed against his bare torso, and you smiled into his shoulder as he squeezed you tight.

“How can I ever repay you?” he said dramatically, leaning back to meet your eyes. “I might just give you a kiss I love you so much right now.” As his face neared yours you quickly pushed it away with your hand, giggling as he let out a whooshing breath of disappointment.

“Not today, slick.” Swinging your legs over onto the floor, you flipped your hair and ran your hands through the damp strands already drying from the sun. The rest of the groceries were delivered without a hitch, and soon enough it was evening and the sun was beginning to set. After docking the boat, the group gathered in a circle to discuss the plan.

“Meet back here at 8,” John B. instructed. “We’ll bring all the coolers and cups out onto the beach. Then it’s party time.”

JJ let out a whoop, and everyone else broke into excited grins. You especially were beyond excited, and couldn’t wait to get ready with Kiara and Sarah. The three of you had of course planned outfits in advance, getting advice from each other before deciding. Everything was ready and waiting at Sarah’s, and as the group split up you three practically ran back to her house.

With music blasting in her room and clothes strewn about the floor, you began to get ready. Makeup was always minimal since you never knew when you’d be swimming, so just some moisturizer and an eyelash curl was all you needed. You loved the sun-kissed, beachy vibe your tanned skin and curled hair was giving off. You looked like a fun, adventurous girl who lived a carefree life. It was a welcome change from your usual appearance.

“Pope was totally checking me out, right?” Kiara wondered aloud, fiddling with a hair tie as she attempted a half-up hairstyle. “I mean, I know I looked good, but did he notice?”

“Totally,” Sarah confirmed, plucking at a few stray hairs in her eyebrows. “He’d be an idiot not to be into you, Kie. And JJ was definitely going crazy over your little dive, Y/N.” Sarah’s suggestive expression made you throw a pillow in her direction, laughing.

“No way,” you refuted. “No Pogue-on-Pogue macking, remember?”

The two girls snorted. “Uh, hello, Y/N,” Sarah said. “Me and John B. do a lot more than macking, you know.”

Pretending to be grossed out, you feigned a shudder. “Ew, absolutely not. JJ’s my friend, I’d hate to ruin things by trying to be something more.”

Kiara frowned, finished with her hair and now leaning against the wall. “That’s how I feel about Pope. But I don’t want to be just friends anymore.”

Sarah stood up from her desk, fully dressed and primped for the party. “I say go for it, Kie. You only live once.” She checked herself out in the mirror, nodding approvingly. “Ladies, we outdid ourselves tonight.”

The three of you looked good, you had to admit. Even in the dark people would be watching you all, checking out the hot Pogues who totally overshadowed the stuck-up Kook princesses. You could just see JJ’s jaw dropped when you got to the beach, and resisted rolling your eyes even now.

It was a short walk back to the beach, and by the time you got there it was pitch black. No one had really arrived yet other than the Pogues and a few stragglers from The Cut. The Kooks were always fashionably late, and it was only a matter of time before the walking Hollister models arrived.

Pope, John B., and JJ were pouring drinks into red cups and passing them around, and you accepted a cup with a grin. Getting drunk was fun, and you loved the way you felt when tipsy. Like you were lighter than air, and the world had a bubbly, gold-tinted glow. Downing the first cup too quickly, you choked a little at the end and rubbed at your chin, flushing in slight embarrassment. JJ raised his eyebrows and handed you another full cup, catching your eye and smiling.

Soon, the party was in full swing. Kooks and Cut kids alike swarmed the sand, downing alcohol and dancing around half-drunk. Sarah mingled with a few Kooks, dragging John B. with her despite his less than thrilled expression. Pope and Kiara were of course together, debating some meaningless topic while trying to keep the stupid grins off their faces. JJ was manning the drinks, hat twisted backwards like he always did to keep his hair off his face. You were a few drinks in, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. You’d always been a light-weight, and after one more drink you’d be fully drunk.

It didn’t take long to reach this point, and then you were stumbling across the sand towards JJ, calling his name in a slurred voice as you sloshed your half-filled cup.

“JJ! JJ! Heyyy.” You grabbed his arm when you reached him, stumbling a little as you lost your balance. He reached out to steady you, and you giggled ridiculously. “Can I have more?” you slurred, still swaying on your feet. “I wanna taste the clouds.”

JJ smiled, taking your cup from you and setting it down. “I don’t think so, princess. One more drink and you’d be on another planet.”

“Ooh! Which one? Mars? I always liked Jupiter.” Attempting to grab your cup off the sand, you felt yourself falling and scrambled to stay up. Luckily JJ’s strong arms grabbed you before you face-planted, and you laughed into his chest. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m an...unbalanced drunk.”

He grinned, nodding at your explanation. “Makes sense. How are you liking your first beach party, anyway?”

“It’s so fun!” you said too loudly. “Everyone is so nice, even the snobs that Sarah introduced me to. If they loosened their buttons a little I think they’d be tolerable.” JJ laughed at your drunken retelling, taking a swig of beer. He looked a bit drunk himself, but way less than you. JJ knew how to handle his alcohol, whereas you were a stuttering, stumbling mess.

A thought crossed your mind, and you tapped him repeatedly on the chest. “JJ, JJ, JJ,” you repeated, until he grabbed your hand and exclaimed, “What?!”

“You know what would make this even better?” you asked, meeting his shining blue eyes. “A swim.”

Immediately he snorted at your proposition, crossing his arms. “Right now? It’s pitch-black out and the water’s probably cold.”

You shrugged your shoulders, unaffected by his protest. “So what? The surf looks so calm and serene, I just want to float, you know?” Without waiting for his answer, you whipped your shirt off and unbuttoned your shirts.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” JJ said, putting his hands up. “What is it with you and random stripping? Not that I’m complaining, but--”

Pulling your shorts off and standing only in your bathing suit, you put your hands on your hips and pretended to pout. The sight made JJ’s eyes flash, and he licked his lips.

“Look, I’m swimming. Join me if you want.” Before the last word left your lips JJ had practically torn off his shirt and kicked off his boots. His shorts hung low on his hips, and in the moonlight his defined abs shone like chiseled marble. Biting your lip, you turned quickly and skipped down the shore.

Dark black waves lapped gently at the sand, and when you dipped a toe in you felt the cold temperature and flinched. But a little cold wouldn’t stop you, and as JJ came up behind you you began wading into the water.

“Holy shit!” JJ exclaimed, the sound of splashing indicating he had jumped upon contact with the frigid water. “You really want to cross hypothermia off your bucket list?”

“Just for a few minutes,” you swore, heading deeper and deeper until the water reached your shoulders. It was definitely cold, and froze the blood in your veins until your heart thumped in your chest. But it was also weirdly exhilarating, and you let out a crazed laugh before dunking your head fully under the water.

“You’re absolutely crazy!” JJ cried, shivering visibly as he tried to keep up with you. Since he was taller less of him was submerged, so you splashed water at his exposed chest. “Hey!” he protested, but there was a grin on his face. You leaned back to float, spreading your arms out as you gazed at the star-filled night sky.

“Isn’t this so beautiful?” you murmured, treading water softly to stay afloat. JJ followed your gaze to the sky, expression unconvinced before glancing back at you.

“You’re so drunk, anything would be beautiful.” As he said this, his eyes glazed over slightly as they traced your face. Not noticing, you sighed blissfully.

A few minutes of silence passed, before JJ spoke. “Alright, Y/N, truth time. I hardly know anything about you and we’re damn near best friends.”

You frowned. “You know plenty about me, what are you talking about?”

He rolled his eyes. “I know stupid things, like you prefer sunrises over sunsets, you hate every kind of seafood except shrimp, and your favorite color is orange. I want to know the deep stuff.” He wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis.

You furrowed your brows. “When did I tell you my favorite color?”

“You didn’t, or at least not specifically. One morning you dragged us out to the beach at like, 5 am in the morning just so we could see the sunrise. When the sun had just broken over the water, you pointed to the clouds and said that that was your favorite color in the whole world, that muted, pale orange.”

If you weren’t so drunk JJ’s words would’ve touched your heart. They were so personal, and no one had ever paid attention to you like that before. But because the alcohol made your brain fuzzy, you just laughed and nodded. “That was a good day.”

A gentle splash hit your face, and JJ said, “Come on, this is a safe space. Open up to your best friend JJ.”

“Fine,” you countered, wondering where to start. You knew the only reason you were opening up was because of how drunk you were. But you also knew it would be nice to actually tell someone about yourself, after keeping it bottled up for so long. “Well, you know I live with my mom. I don’t have a dad.” You paused, but JJ was silent. “Well, I have a dad, obviously, child-making process and all that. But he left when I was nine.” You said the words simply, matter-of-factly. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about your dad in a long time. “Which actually kind of sucks. That he left when I was nine, I mean. When you’re really young and your dad leaves, it’s fine because you can’t remember him. But I knew my dad. He was the guy that made really good waffles on Sundays and picked me up from school sometimes. So when he left...well, I couldn’t just act like he never existed.”

JJ’s only reaction was to blink slowly, gaze trained on your face. His normal light-hearted smirk was softened slightly into a more serious expression.

His comforting gaze made you feel like you could say anything right now, so you continued. “Anyway, my mom never really got over it. I think she wishes she could’ve gone after him, chased after the love of her life, you know? But because she had me to deal with, she couldn’t. I feel like she hates me a little bit.”

"No way, she can’t hate you,” JJ responded firmly.

“How do you know?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but JJ answered anyway.

“Because it’s impossible for anyone to hate you.” You were lightly stunned at his honest reply, and faltered a bit in the water. But he said nothing more to ease the sudden tension, making your mouth dry up.

Uncomfortable with the silence, you joked, “So how’s that for opening up, huh best friend?”

This brought a big smile to his lips, and he looked at you closely before saying, “Wonderful job. I feel closer to you than ever.”

Smiling, you still weren’t thinking straight you were so drunk. Stupidly, you said, “Hey, I guess we have more in common than I thought; we both have daddy issues!”

You knew it was the wrong thing to say when his smile immediately dropped. JJ’s dad was a sore subject that he hardly ever brought up. You knew the basics that Kiara had filled you in on; that his dad hit him, oftentimes a lot more than just a simple punch. You knew whenever you saw JJ with a busted lip or black eye that it was his old man’s doing. This joke was insensitive and way too overbearing, and you regretted it as soon as you said it.

But JJ didn’t make you feel bad for it, instead plastered on a smile and nodded. “Got that right, Y/L/N.” You swam in the water for a few more minutes, until you announced even you were getting a little chilly, and you made your way back to shore.

Teeth chattering, you hugged yourself tightly as you rejoined the group. Thankfully there were a few blankets that JJ and you gladly wrapped around yourselves, slowly warming up after the frigid swim.

“Having fun, Y/N?” John B. asked as he walked over to you. You nodded, accepting the drink he offered you even though you knew you didn’t need it. Anything to dull the awkwardness that just happened with JJ. Taking a huge sip of the alcohol, you felt it burn down your throat.

“This girl is crazy,” JJ announced. “Thinks swimming at this hour is fun.”

John B. grinned, giving you a high-five. “You make JJ seem like a stick in the mud, Y/N! Way to go.”

You smiled, and felt JJ’s eyes on you as he scoffed in mock offense. You met his gaze, and he was watching you with a challenging expression. But there was also something else there, something you usually pushed him away for. Tonight, though, with too much alcohol in your system and your guard completely down, you wouldn’t be opposed to a little Pogue-on-Pogue macking for once.

#outer banks #obx #pope outer banks #pope obx #john b #john b outer banks #john b obx #kiara outer banks #kiara obx #sarah outer banks #sarah obx #jj maybank #jj outer banks #jj obx #jj one shot #jj mayback x reader #jj smut

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moonlit-imagines · 5 years ago

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Grand Illusion

Harley Quinn x reader

warnings:

a/n: this was gonna be a dick grayson imagine but i started feeling gay 2nite, also send me an ask if u wanna be on any tag lists!!!

prompt: grand illusion - styx

One of Harley’s favorite scenes only came around once or twice a year at the Gotham City Fairgrounds. Yes, I’m talking about the circus. It was nice to blend in for a night, nobody realized that there was a lunatic in their midst.

The show was about to begin and everyone pushed through the opening in the central tent, where you were performing tonight.

“‘Scuse me! Outta the way! Coming through!” Harley muscled her way through the crowd with her bowl of popcorn lifted over her head, raining snacks on the surrounding spectators.

“Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, in just a few short moments the show will begin! Are you ready for a night to remember?” The ringmaster asked the crowd, earning a chorus of cheers, Harley’s could be heard above everyone else’s. “Glad to hear it!” The music began to play, which was his cue to exit the stage and let fhe performers work their magic. The well-decorated clown on the bleachers crunched on her popcorn as you appeared in the ring after your smoke bomb dissipated.

“Woah, how’d they do that?” Harley leaned to an audience member beside her, still fully focused on you. You were a magician, an illusionist, an opening act (so far). It was mind-boggling watching you disappeared and reappear on another side of the ring...until you had vanished from the ring completely, the croud gasped. There were murmurs.

“Where do you think they went? Is that all? What’s next?” They asked as the spotlight suddenly brightened on the crowd. You were seated on the bleachers next to an interesting looking woman, amazing costume, you must say. Plus, the bleach-blonde hair with pink and blue tips? She really did catch your eye.

“Nice to meet you, darling, I’m the magic act, you can call me ‘y/n.’” You grabbed the girl’s hand and she gave it an enthusiastic shake as her red lips grew wider to show her teeth.

“Harley, nice to meetcha, too!” She offered you some of her popcorn, which you tossed into your mouth and showcased your deck of cards.

“Well, Harley, could you pick a card for me?” You shuffled the deck and presented it to her with your eyes closed, feeling her pull a card form your hands. “Okay, now put it back wherever you please.” You shuffled your deck once again while all eyes of the audience were on you. “Tell me, dear, is this your card?” You presented the three of diamonds to her and she gave you a gleeful cheer.

“Woah, it was! How’d you do that?” She asked as you wrote something onto the card and handed it back.

“Lucky guess?” You joked and as she read your writing, you appeared back on stage. “Now get ready for the real show! I’ll see you soon, but will you see me?” And just like that, you were gone once more.

“Aw, I’m gonna miss that babe of a magician.” Harley pouted to the person sitting beside her.

“Oh, for sure. Me too.” You and her made eye contact at the same time and her jaw dropped open, you were surprised to receive a hug from her. “Woah, thank you, thank you. Didn’t think I was such an act.” You joked and pat her on the back. “Did you read the card?”

“Yeah, but I don’t get it.” Harley flicked at the card and you smiled, there was never a moment you didn’t enjoy when you confused people.

“Turn it around and read it again.” You instructed and grabbed a handful of her popcorn, tuning out the loud cheers coming from around you as the acrobats did tricks you’d seen a million times. Harley gave it a try and, what do you know? There was a new message.

“It that...is that your number?!” She got all giddy and you shot her a wink. Her next move was to wrap her arm around your shoulder and go on watching the show. “I don’t know if you can tell, but I really think I like you.”

“I feel the same way, Miss Harley.” You admitted as you leaned on her shoulder. The rest of the show was spectacular, and as the last act left the stage, you whispered to Harley, “be right back,” and vanished, reappearing where you started at the beginning of the show. “Hope you were all content with what you’ve been showed tonight?” There was thunderous applause and you joined in on it. “Yes, I most certainly agree. Now can anyone count to three for me?”

“One, two...” The crowd yelled in unison, “three!” You suddenly disappeared away from the ring with another round of applause. Your new location was right in frong of Harley herself, planting a big kiss on her lips, she loved it enough to bring you even closer to her.

“Startin’ to think you like ditching me.” She poked fun at you.

“Kinda my job, Miss. But I’m getting kind of bored of it.” You told her and her eyes lit up.

“That’s great news! You should come home with me!”

#harleen quinzel #harleen quinzel imagine #harleen quinzel x reader #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn imagine #harley quinn #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey

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bubmyg · 5 years ago

Text

something new - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: youtuber!au, established relationship, fluff, minor mentions of insecurity and anxiety

word count: 1,821

summary: you’re gone for the evening and jeongguk has a video idea or the one where he’s ten levels of shy when your hands are on his cheeks (alternately, loosely based off that one jenna marbles video)

There was an ambient huff that succeeded the flicker of red snug next to the lens of Jeongguk’s camera, one that landed his hands on his hips, gathering the baggy material of his jacket around his lean waist. He sighed, still bent forward over the sink where the camera rested idle on the lip between the wall and the mirror, sweeping gaze studying a particularly concerning stain centered on the plastic covering layered inside the shower curtain.

After a good ten seconds of silent filming, he reached for the dye kit curled next to the facet, lifting it up to the camera where he got impossibly close, wrinkling his nose and speaking to what would eventually be his audience.

“Is this a bad idea?”

Jeongguk pulled back to inspect the cardboard in his hands, flashy advertisements and chemical formulas that essentially translated to bleach, something that would ombre out the shaggy ends of stark brown hair that messily brushed at his flushed cheeks. He half expected you to answer his question spoken into the empty apartment, your figure to materialize hours early from the party you were attending on some hunch that he was doing something ridiculous.

But you didn’t appear, not even through a text on the phone in his pocket, and he was still alone with a box of hair dye in his grasp and his camera capturing the comedown of what had been a previously eureka moment for a video idea when you’d kissed him goodbye and evaded the third ass slap of the night.

Another silent breath and he shrugged, pointedly dropping the hair dye box to the edge of the sink, the slam a little too directed and the cardboard fumbled into the sink basin. Jeongguk didn’t falter aside from wide eyes, shrugging as he sliced a fingernail under the seal and began to unpack the contents.

One plastic glove was slid across inked knuckles, leaning toward his lens again, “Something new, right guys?—” He paused long enough to slice his gaze to the mysterious shower curtain stain before winking, lowering his voice a half octave, “Right, baby girl?”

“I…” Jeongguk trailed off, ruffled crooked fingertips into the locks partially damp and parted across the center of his head, “I think I like it?”

His nose wrinkled at his reflection first and then at the camera he pointed toward the mirror, “I mean it’s definitely different, and my hair doesn’t feel too disgusting….”

He went about cleaning up the evidence, lugging his camera along with his as he did so, capturing angles of his puffed cheek and the disgruntled noises he groaned in tandem with his aching joints. In sliding his hair brush back into its proper drawer, he dislodged a pair of old scissors, chipped blue handle and slightly rusted metal ends and all.

The scissors snapped once over Jeongguk’s reflection in the mirror until he pulled the camera aside to stare at his reflection, speaking for the camera’s benefit, “I shouldn’t trim it...should I?” and then once for his own conscious to get the hint, “We are not cutting our own hair.”

Jeongguk’s adventure lasted barely an hour into the at least three you promised to be gone, wallowing him deeper into the mountain of unmade sheets on your bed. He tried to preoccupy himself with phone games, only to distract when drying waves of half blonde would flit into long eyelashes. He tried to catch up on Jimin and Taehyung’s newest gaming series, only for his thumb to itch over one of his various camera applications to stare at his reflection, grappling with the faded hue of colors across his locks. He tried to edit a different video, only to catch his reflection in his laptop screen and wish you were home right now.

He fell back into the cycle of phone games, something concentration consuming that managed to pull his conscious out of his muddled excitement and anxiety even for a span of ten minute intervals. The mundane, repeated actions of the character on the screen managed to lull out his concerns, positive or otherwise, in those time frames as well.

So much so that when he registered the sound of your key in the front door, he nearly bashed his nose off the edge of your dresser in route to snatch one of his bucket hats off its hook to smash over freshly dyed tendrils.

Jeongguk heard your call of greeting but missed the stride of your figure immediately to the bathroom, giving him some time to, conspicuously, situate himself on the couch in the living room. Except the lean of his stature to the corner of decorative pillows and folded throw blankets was anything but conspicuous, knees stiff underneath himself, shoulders square to a television that wasn’t on, phone forgotten somewhere in his rush to hide but also seek. He folded his fingers together, shoving them between his thighs and effectively making himself seem that much smaller as he squirmed upon hearing the bathroom door open.

You didn’t notice anything odd about his behaviour at first, and if you did, you didn’t let it show. Softly, you pushed down on his knees, standard procedure to clamber across his lap as you looped tired arms around his shoulders and pressed your nose into his neck. He froze only long enough to untangle his fingers from each other and stutter warm palms across the small of your back.

“Did you have fun?” Jeongguk nosed into your hair, conscious of the way the baggy front flap of his hat settled across the bridge of his nose. He was more conscious of that then the way his voice caught on certain syllables and ended in one hard swallow that elongated down the length of his throat.

“Mhm, just tired.” You lifted from the crook of his shoulder to slide your hands to his neck, staring at him with a cocked chin, “How was your night?”

For a half second, he thought somehow, somehow, you’d caught him. The very fear that iced through his veins contributed to the harsh stutter that laced further into his words, not smooth at all as he shrugged, “Fine, you know, nothing too exciting.”

The smile curled to each corner of your mouth was gentle, thumbing underneath Jeongguk’s jaw, “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing.”

The cocky expression paired to the appearance of his teeth was wholly genuine, “Nothing.”

You pinched the skin directly underneath his ear, fond grin growing when he yelped and glowered out from the shadow of his bucket hat. You hummed, musing as your thumb soothed over the skin you irritated, “Right…”

Jeongguk whined when your lips touched his cheek, an involuntary reaction that paired with his hands flexing at your back. It happened again and again, a series of your kisses covering his face while he tried to mewl out protests in between, feathery light brushes of your pursed mouth until it tickled at the tip of his nose and the corners of his mouth to have him giggling, effectively scrunching and stretching the very skin you were trying to shower in adoration.

It was a similar daze that mediated the zombie like throng of actions in his various mobile games, one that had him lazily beaming at you when you pulled away to look at him, so similar that he barely blinked until the shadow hanging in a neat circle around his head was gone, his bucket hat now forgotten on the adjacent couch cushion.

You said his name with an exclamation point, aweing at the dyed strands with an excited glint in your irises. You fretted over him while his skin slowly crawled into a different dye of its own, one of a blotched red variety that gathered in the highest volumes around the various moles and freckles on his features.

Crooked fingertips brushing through Jeongguk’s scalp became gentle palms on his warmed cheeks, tilting his gaze firmly to yours as you landed a soft peck to his bottom lip.

“Is this what you were doing while I was gone?”

“Yeah, I wanted to do it anyway but thought it might be a good video too…” He shrugged when your lips bloomed into a lingering kiss on the right corner of his mouth, “You know, come dye my hair with me but also surprise my girlfriend who left me unattended for a few hours.”

You sensed the but in his voice so you kept quiet, kissing his eyebrow in route to brush your fingers through his hair again.

Softly, Jeongguk inquired, “...do you like it?”

You responded by wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling into his skin. “Hmm...do you?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk leaned his cheek against you, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Of course I like it, Guk,” You kissed the spot below his ear, “You look hot.”

The assurance was the spur of confidence he needed, or at least enough to mask any remaining insecurity, quick in wrestling your squealing figure underneath his to busy his lips at the base of your throat. “Hot, huh?” He nipped underneath your jaw, gaze flicking up at you under dyed fringe that had flicked across his long eyelashes.

“Where’s your camera?” You countered, managing to wrestle an arm out to press the heel of your palm into his forehead.

“Don’t worry, I forgot it in the bathroom. Maybe instead of this video I’ll just post a picture out of the blue,” He nudged your hand down by your wrist to kiss the center of your palm before pinning your hand above your head. Teasingly, he pressed you further into the dislodged decorative pillows, dangling his fringe above your face, “If it’s as hot as you say...it’ll probably garner a good reaction.”

Your eye roll earned Jeongguk’s mouth back on your neck, teasing out more laughter in gentle nips underneath your jaw bone until you managed to wriggle from his gasp, curling soft hands around his cheeks again to hold him in place.

“A big head doesn’t suit you, babe.”

He heated in your grasp, faltering in the way his thigh shifted between your parted legs and the dangle of his freshly dyed hair was on accident when his chin hinged shyly. “Okay but seriously…” Dark cocoa irises brewed in question, “Do you like it?”

“I love it because it’s you and I love you.” You let the words sink in by feeling his skin heat considerably against the soft grip of your palms while his gaze flicked to the corner of shyly crinkled eyelids. Eventually, you coaxed him closer to brush your lips against his, “But seriously? You look hot.”

“...how hot?”

You groaned, hooking an arm around his neck, “Come here, you big dork.”

He took your request literally, collapsing his arms to fit them behind your shoulder blades.

“Jeon Jeongguk you’re crushing me—”

“But you said to come here—”

#bts reactions #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #fic: ytber jk

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

| the wrong star

warnings: mentions of gun, death, too much dick shoutouts and implied smut.

jimin isn’t exactly someone you’re supposed to get attached to. not that you were planning to in the first place. but things... things happen.

at first, it’s a trip to some island that’s supposed to be famous for its volcanic clay produce. the chalet they got you was nice. a single room with the bed facing the sea and almost translucent curtains covering a clear wall-sized sliding door that could let a sniper put a bullet in your head in your sleep.

but you tend to be more lax. it’s a hard-earned vacation and if someone is going to assassinate you in your sleep, they’re gonna wish they hadn’t.

after leading the devilishly handsome man you had a few too many drinks with at the bar, you find yourself in your room. articles of clothing falling onto the ground faster than you can register. it’s when the back of your calves hit the edge of the bed, do you wedge a foot around his ankle and swiftly step to the side, sending him tumbling down into the silken sheets.

a groan escapes his lips and you wonder if it’s made up. if he meant to sound like he’s caught off guard by your sudden movement, but you don’t have the time to ponder on it as you pull out a gun from beneath the gap between the bed and the floor.

“who sent you?” your voice is as cold as steel, hands groping around his chiseled body for a wire.

“easy, sweetheart,” his tone becomes more calculated when he feels the cold barrel against the back of his neck, hands coming up to his head, “believe it or not, i’m here for a vacation - well, or was.”

“oh, isn’t that just a big fat coincidence,” you mock, “two assassins, in the same island, at the same resort.”

as the odds stack up, you feel the muscles in jimin’s back tense up, “it’s got the best view of the beach and if you’re as good as you seem to be - which you are, judging from how you noticed i’m an assassin too - you probably earned as much as me which explains why you got the most expensive room they have.”

“even a child can come up with-” your words get lodged in your throat as the world spins for a split second before you’re slammed into the mattress.

your grip on the gun remains still but a larger hand seems to press on your wrist so it’s pointing in the direction of the sliding door and away from his veins. his thighs lock your hips down and his free hand holds a knife to your throat.

“is ___ even your real name?” he cocks his head to the side, as though giving you a once over before deciding whether you look like a ___.

“jimin can’t be yours,” you scoff. who would be foolish enough to-

“it is.” he cuts your train of thoughts, “you can check my social security number,” his offer seems a bit too willing, “i told you i’m here for a strictly non-working matter.”

all of a sudden, flashes of jimin’s - you’re not a hundred percent convinced, but let’s just call him that for now - suave smile, his hungry eyes and far too carefree hand plays at the back of your mind.

“to get laid.” you offer a better term for him, to which he rolls his eyes.

“yeah, okay,” he huffs, “it’s been sixteen months, don’t judge me.”

at the unsolicited information, you can’t help but narrow your eyes, “if you can’t get laid in the city, what makes you think you can get laid in some island with lesser population?”

“you must never had a girl you met at a club - and yes, from said city - try to cut your dick off when you thought you were getting some,” he says plainly, the moonlight pouring through the clear sliding door providing barely enough light to allow you to see the distorted expression he’s making. as though he hasn’t emotionally recovered from that yet.

“well, second time’s the charm, right?” the littlest gap between his crotch and your hips allows you to root your feet into the mattress and force yourself up, sending his balance off so you’d have enough time to slip your legs over his hips, switch your positions and point your gun against his sharp jawline.

but that also means his hand was free to secure his life by pressing the cold blade of the knife against your neck. and yes, again.

“you don’t look like you’re on a mission to kill either,” he asserts, eyes glinting with a sort of bloodthirsty desire you didn’t notice before - well, to be fair, before he was cracking jokes and wasn’t taking this life threatening situation seriously, “how bout we just... part ways and never speak of this to our organization ever again?”

you take the longest moment to weigh out the pros and cons. pros: you get to enjoy the rest of your vacation without being called back to or ordered to kill jimin. cons: you might have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of this vacation.

the answer teeters on the tip of your tongue but the tangibility of the tension seems to clasp against your lips, forbidding you from uttering-

“yeah, okay,” as soon as the words hit the air, it’s as though a thick blanket of haze has lifted.

you roll off the man at the same time he lets out an audible sigh, the knife falling off his hands and echoing in three thuds before the room goes silent again, save for your breathings.

“god,” jimin heaves out, “i thought i was gonna get my head blown off instead of my dick.”

“how is that better than getting a vasectomy... with a bullet... and on your dick?” you ask into the darkness, the gun lying a few inches from your hand after you let it slip away and fall against the mattress.

“trust me, sweetheart,” you catch him shooting a look at you, “anything is better than living a life without a dick.”

you don’t quite understand how an assassin would be so scared of pain, regardless if it’s around the genital area but you’re just glad your vacation doesn’t have to be cut short just because you cross the wrong star at the wrong time.

after the... incident, you’ve managed to avoid each other successfully. until your last night at the island. some big shot was throwing a pool party and everyone’s invited. jimin was surrounded with three girls with the prettiest faces and curviest bodies, hands trailing up his sculpted abdomen which he lets out to the world as his floral blue shirt hangs on his shoulders, unbuttoned.

guess, his sixteen month dry spell ends tonight.

“you,” an obnoxious voice calls - you have half the mind to slam him against the ground and make him beg for forgiveness for addressing a lady as ‘you’ but you twirl around with a smile and a certain roll in your hips. the host, a young man with a proportionate body and golden blond hair bites down on his lips as he undress you with his eyes, “you came.”

you met him while you were tanning - or rather, the sun seemed to have suddenly been covered by the clouds so you pried one eye open, only to see a man with too much ego and too small a dick standing over you.

taehyung - unfortunately, you don’t forget names that easily - tried to chat you up but after your third rejection, he’d left with a, “i’m having a pool party tonight - you should come and see what you’re missing out on.”

“thought i’d see what i’m missing out on,” you give him a once over, noticing how he’s looking at you with eyes full of anticipation before it darkens with devastation at your next words, “not much though.”

but that baby face instantly lights up when you take a step into the jacuzzi, one hand hovering over the water as you sip the tequila before finally closing the distance. the woman and men who were latching onto him began to leave the warmth of the tub one by one until you’re setting the flute glass on the edge.

“so, where you from?” taehyung begins, only to suck in a deep breath as you press your body up against him.

“less talking, more making out, yeah?” you murmur against his lips, your own curling into a pleased smirk when his hands cup your ass and he devours your lips.

it takes about five shots of jaeger for him to pass out on the suede long couch somewhere in a more private part near the pool. you asked for it because you weren’t drunk enough to ignore the eyes that seem to follow your every move and they aren’t taehyung’s.

with a dejected sigh, you tie the line of your bikini bra around your neck and back before slipping through the white curtain that hung around the gazebo, fully intending to call it a night... until a silhouette step into the pathway to your room.

“thought you were getting your dick blown,” you comment despite knowing that he was probably too busy trying to see through the gaps of the curtains around the gazebo to actually have his dick inside someone.

“thought you were getting one in you,” his tone bears more mockery than yours - dare you say, personal.

“i’m leaving tomorrow,” you brush past him, the sound of the waves crashing becoming louder as you tread further down the path.

“oh,” is all he says - not that you’re expecting much.

yet your chest still aches with a sort of disappointment much heavier than taehyung’s sleeping form and limp dick.

when you come to a stop in front of the wooden door, you finally break the silence, “___ is my real name, by the way.”

it doesn’t take long for jimin to soak in your words. barely more than a second. and before you know it, your lips are melding with a pair of luscious ones. they’re as soft and sweet as the words that come out of them the day you first started talking.

it should feel deja vu, how you’re backing up against nothing and how the two piece clothing you have on is easier to slip off your body than the tank top and skirt from the first time. and jimin’s shirt only needs being pushed off his shoulder - his trunks need a bit more attention because it got stuck around his hardening dick.

but the struggle is worth the wait because you woke up with black and blue bruises and a sort of soreness in your legs that could only mean one thing: that the sex was out of this world.

when you brush the man’s bleached hair out of his face, you half-expect him to grasp your hand like it’s some gun aimed at him while he’s at his most vulnerable. but his eyes flutter open a little too belatedly. they curve into crescents when they see you as does his lips.

“morning,” he murmurs ever so gently - you wonder how he does that with a groggy voice.

you order breakfast in bed and eat them together, laughing and messing around like you’ve known each other for longer than a week. but neither of you disclose what organization you work for. you just... cuddle on the bed until it’s time for you to pack, it isn’t much since you know not to bring too many thins in case you needed to leave quickly. perhaps in the middle of the night.

you part with kisses and hugs like you’re never going to see each other again.

well, you don’t because the organization sends you for jobs all around the country, sometimes even to neighboring ones until you hit your third month of coming back after the vacation.

you’re decked in a fake diamond encrusted lingerie with thighs gripping the pole better than your wig. the person who requested you had company and among them is none other than jimin. his hair is dyed into a deep brown shade, giving him a mysterious air as he watches you put a bullet in your target’s mouth. a proud smile plastered over his face.

“please, don’t shoot me or my dick,” he holds his hands up in a playful manner once you discard the gun somewhere next to the bodies.

“i’m not even going to ask how you found me,” you trust him enough to know there isn’t any assassins you need to be wary of in the club until at least three minutes before you have to report to your own. his lips tastes like peppermint and beer.

and so it goes your little rendezvous. from tokyo to milan all the way to egypt, you’d somehow find a way to coordinate your jobs in the same city and spend the rest of the nights and days with each other after you’re done with your target.

“i wanna quit,” jimin announces, one fine night in the hot summer air of the philippines.

“what? us?” it’s just your wishful thinking, because there’s no other reason for him to leave his job unless he wants a death wish.

he sits up despite having your head on his arm - and when he does that, you know he means business. or resignation, really.

“i’m only doing this because i had nothing to lose back then,” his callous thumb rubs the back of your hand - more specifically, the knuckle of your ring finger, “but i have everything to lose right now and i rather not second guess myself until it’s too late.”

“jimin,” you only ever say his name when you want to snap him out of his ludicrous thoughts - and the last time, he proposed getting into a cartel just and staging your deaths, “you do know they’re not going to let you go that easy - you’re an asset.”

it didn’t take too long for you to realize that. and it took you a shorter period of time to let it sink in that jimin had known you were an assassin all along that day but chose to place his bet on you not killing him so he flirted with you anyway.

“which is why i should go over to your organization - they’ll accept me for the information i have on mine,” he pulls out a hard drive from the drawer he kept his guns in.

“and what makes you think you won’t be killed once they got all the information they need from you?” you refute.

“well,” he squeezes your hand, eyes coming up to meet you, “that’ll probably take them six months to realize i have nothing more to give them - and by then, i’m hoping we’d be gone.”

he means dead. legally.

“i don’t know...” and for the first time since you were eighteen, you couldn’t draw up the best course of action to take to get yourself out of a sticky situation, but you do know one thing, “i don’t think of you as just a fling and if this is some heat-of-the-moment thing-”

“i want us to get married,” he cuts you off, or so he thought he got it right.

“not exactly what i was trying to say,” you can’t help but giggle, but you don’t oppose proposition.

it’s been an arduous process since then. scraping for information, risking your identities and suspicion of your own organization when you started to highly recommend jimin to the board. but your supervisor and trainer had backed you up - only because he personally went against jimin and it’d left him with a in his back that disallowed him from taking on jobs and subdued into a trainer for the newbies.

“how long?” the moment those words slip out of namjoon’s lips, you don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that your heart quite literally dropped.

“how long what?” yet you still manage to school your face into a stoic one - they make you take classes for that too.

“look, kid, i’ve known you since you were fifteen with snot running out of your nose every time you have to come in for shooting lessons,” those sharp eyes that seem to peel every layer of your lies with just a glance. he brings up one hand, cigarette in between his middle and ring finger while his index finger points at you, “and i know a look that screams i’ll die for the person i thought is the love of my life but really is just some hot flame i met while i’m in my 20′s, when i see one.”

“he’s not just some guy,” is all you say and hear.

but namjoon begs to differ, head shaking as he lowers his gaze - as though he couldn’t bear to look at a disappointment before he sucks in a breath and meets your eyes, “i don’t wanna see your face bloodied and bruised in that interrogation room,” he waves his index finger in the direction of the hallway where the infamous interrogation room lays, the smoke from the bud forming a circle before it disappears into the air, “or so help me god, i will kill you myself.”

“thank you, namjoon.” the gratitude scrapes against your throat like a knife, because this is him saying he’ll help you - both you and jimin get out of this god forsaken place and that means putting his life on the line for it.

then so begins jimin’s double agency, going back and forth, supplying every drop of information he can for yours until his organization caught wind of his betrayal. but by then, he’s already halfway across the world, taking a job as an assassin from your organization and under its protection.

you don’t talk even though you see each other in the hallway. pretend like neither existed while you fuck like you’ve never had a drop of water in the toilet of some club in the country you manage to coordinate your jobs in.

but that was rare. two assassins in the same country, taking a job.

then comes the ratchet moment. when jimin’s six months are up and they find him more of a liability than an opportunity. the better the agent, the high likely he’ll stab you in the back like he did with his last organization.

something like the saying if he cheats with you, he’ll cheat on you.

but in a way, you’re both cheaters. of life. of death. of everything that you were thrust into in a guise for a better life than the slumps you come from.

“get out of the way, ___,” jimin could have convinced you that he truly, honestly betrayed you as he holds the gun and points it at you.

“jimin, think about it, if you put your gun down, i shoot you, you die an instant death,” it’s not much of an offer but he’s in no position to refuse as the siren ring throughout the building and red lights begin to replace the bright luminescent ones.

it is in that moment, when namjoon slips through the vents and kicks takes your brown haired lover off guard, do you rush in to wrestle the gun out of his hands. someway, somehow, the struggle ended with a bullet in you and you’re like fish gasping for air, your vision slowly blurring as you watch namjoon run after jimin two seconds into hesitating whether to save you or abandon you because the others would come for you.

the chase continues until jimin slips into the sewer - possibly his planned escape route which he thought would be the last step to escaping his pursuers. only to meet his death. they found his body a good one hour later but he’s almost bloated from having been left in the cold water by namjoon who barely made it back to call for back up and sent people to get jimin’s body.

it’s exactly one year later, after going through rehab and barely managing to do menial, daily tasks do they discharge you. the bullet hit your spine and you had to go through multiple surgeries just to be able to feel your legs. it takes you longer than six months to be able to walk properly.

“i almost lost my life defending this very organization and even if you can’t relocate me to some nice, five star apartment,” tears fill your eyes as you speak in front of the board members, “at least let me live the rest of it without having to check my back if i have a red dot aimed at my heart.”

guess that speech was moving.

they never really let anyone go just like that but you’ve proved your loyalty by jumping in front of a volatile assassin and trying to tackle the gun out of his grasp with the help of namjoon.

oh and namjoon? he got promoted as a board member. he’d also been a major influence in your honorable discharge - as honorable as an assassin’s discharge can be.

now, you live somewhere on the outskirts of town. a tiny little house with a lawn and a one dog and one cat. you get by with writing articles and promotional posts for products.

it’s harder to write for longer hours than you remember it but you like it.

sometimes you get parcels every few days. sometimes they’re energy drinks, sometimes snack packs, and sometimes a pack of bullet for your guns in the most unlikely places.

today, moon, your doberman barks at from his special little area at the front yard, signaling the arrival of yet another package. it takes a moment for you to get to the door but when you do, it’s the the usual white and blue uniform wearing man.

“jimin,” you whisper his name like you’re afraid people from your organization is going to pop out of nowhere at the mention of him.

“hey sweetheart,” his smile still makes his eyes close, “i came to pick up my bride.”

you shake your head at his antics, tears filling your eyes as your own smile stretch across your face, “you’re just in time.”

note. check out my #excerpt from a fic i’ll never write for more excerpt-from-a-fic-i’ll-never-write-esque fics!

#bts smut #jimin smut #jimin scenario #bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts scenarios #jimins scenarios #jimin fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin imagines #jimin x you #bts x you #excerpt from a fic i'll never write #hint: they planned the whole thing w jimin's death and oc getting hurt

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brilliantbecca94 · 5 years ago

Text

Good

a/n: This is my first time posting anything on tumblr, so if formatting is weird, I’m really sorry and if anyone would like to help me make it not weird that would be really appreciated. Smut is (hopefully) under the cut (if I did the Keep Reading thing right).

This is a minor, side piece to a longer chaptered work that I’ve been outlining. So if you’re interested in it and it intrigues you enough that you’d like to read the chaptered work, let me know and I might actually write it. That being said, this isn’t Reader Insert or Y/N, it’s an OC character I’m developing. Although reading this should be easy enough to substitute the character’s name with Y/N.

warnings: This is smut, so please don’t read if that’s something that makes you uncomfortable. Key points are oral (f receiving) and then sex. Also involves praise kink (to the best of my ability currently since this is my first endevor in it) and a brief mention of daddy kink. There’s also implications of mental illness (bi-polar disorder) though it is not explicitly named.

If you feel like i’ve missed mentioning something, let me know and I’ll add it.

word count: 2,487 (according to Word)

Summary: JJ discovers that his girlfriend has a praise kink and they have a really good time with it.

Tessa whined softly. Her head tossed back against the downy pillow cushioning her, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in a desperate attempt to stifle any sounds that may escape. The last thing she needed was her brother barging into her room and catching her with JJ Maybank of all people.

Especially while in the rather promiscuous position they currently found themselves.

Quieting herself was proving to be a difficult task though. No matter how hard she bit into her lip, or how deeply she buried her face into her pillow, JJ’s talents were too much to fight.

He was exceptional with his tongue and each deliberately casual lick he swiped across her heated core sent a shiver of pleasure up Tessa’s spine, forcing another quickly smothered mewl out of her.

A knot was forming in her belly, rapidly tightening in tandem with JJ’s thrusting fingers. His rings had long since warmed to match the temperature of her skin, but that didn’t make it any less exhilarating as they scraped against her entrance.

“Jay…” Tessa whimpered, her own fingers curling through his soft blonde hair.

Simultaneously, her hands worked to push him away and hold him closer. Her peak was becoming almost too much for her to bear, but JJ wasn’t one to let her go unsatisfied.

He paused for a moment, tipping his head up in answer to her whine, offering Tessa a small respite. He looked up her body to her face, an arrogant smirk curling his lips. He drank in her wanton appearance, watched her breasts rise and fall with each heaving breath as she tried to take advantage and regain control of herself. Her sun-bleached hair fanned out around her, a wild halo of tangled blonde locks.

His smirk widened into a cat-like grin, enjoying the desperate little hums she gave. Her hips wiggled gently, urging him to continue. He stroked his thumb over her clit, relishing the delicate flinch of her oversensitive frame.

“Feel good, baby?” His voice was a husky whisper that sent a tingle of electricity through the knot in her abdomen.

She nodded frantically, turning her head from the pillow’s depths to look up at him with wide, pleading hazel eyes. Her hips jerked again, this time managing to slide down on his fingers.

The sudden fullness overwhelmed her. Her teeth buried harder into her lower lip, barely managing to catch the heavy gasp that slipped out.

“Don’t worry, baby,” JJ cooed, lowering his mouth to tickle her clit with the tip of his tongue. “I’ve got ya.”

His purr sent vibrations through her. His fingers crooked inside of her, the rough pads of his fingers scraping against the fluttering walls of her core. He kept his thrusts gentle, bordering on lazy, as he suckled at her vulnerable bud.

He was searching for something within her, that magical spot that would have her falling apart around him with a few deliberate touches.

He knew the moment he’d found it by the high keening squeal Tessa let slip without care and focused his efforts on abusing it in the most gratifying way.

While Tessa had a constant fear that her brother would walk in on them, if they weren’t careful, JJ had zero cares where Topper was concerned.

Though he hadn’t spoken the thought aloud to Tess, the boisterous blonde occasionally wished that the entitled, asshat Kook would find them together. He wanted to see Topper’s face when the prick saw his sweet little sister with a Pogue between her perfectly tanned thighs.

“JJ, please…” Tessa begged, her hips shifting restlessly, hopelessly, trying to encourage him to speed up and force her off the precipice she was precariously balanced on into bliss.

JJ chuckled against her, sending another wave of vibration through Tessa. The knot spasmed, her hips jerking against the constant stimulation. Her thighs tried to close around him, an unconscious attempt to cease the onslaught of pleasure he was raining on her. JJ was quick to catch one leg with his free hand, forcing it back against the warm teal sheets.

He could feel the muscles under her soft skin quivering beneath his palm and it drove him on, knowing she was so close to the edge and he was the one to bring her there.

“Come on, Tess,” he urged, tilting his head to kiss the unbound thigh. “Such a good girl, Tessa. Cum for me.”

Tessa felt the knot in her abdomen tighten exponentially, a jolt of electricity ripping through her accompanied by a gush of slick that JJ happily lapped up.

Her body was a mess of twitching shivers, for a moment she saw stars. The world went silent as JJ rode her through her orgasm.

When she finally came down, JJ was hovering over her, pressing soothing kisses to her neck and face.

As her vision cleared from its pleasurable haze, Tessa met his gaze. His blue eyes were dark, his smirk cocky and Tess couldn’t imagine anything more attractive in this moment. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hands slipping into his hair to hold him against her as he nipped and sucked at the tender spots of her throat.

Her body was still tingling in the aftermath of incredible bliss, her core throbbed, aching to be filled again.

She’d never felt like this before.

JJ had always brought her to orgasm, usually multiple times, but she’d never had one so strong before. She’d never been left reeling like she was now.

Trying to push through the fog lingering in her brain and the distraction of JJ’s lips against her skin, Tessa recalled the moments before her orgasmic out-of-body experience.

“Such a good girl…”

Tessa’s eyes shot open, her arms wrapping tighter around JJ. She shot up against him, pressing them flush together. His words were on repeat in her mind.

JJ fell back in reaction to her sudden impact but grinned up at her as she straddled him, his hands resting against her hips. She ground against him, fingers carding through his hair and lips crashing against his desperately.

Good girl, good girl, good girl

A thick moan ripped its way from her throat and this time there was no attempt to stifle herself. JJ groaned with her, hips rutting up against Tessa.

Her hand shot between them, slipping into his board shorts to stroke his hard cock. He moaned again, head falling back in surprise and pleasure.

When she tried to free him completely from his nylon prison, he gripped her hips a little harder, pulling back slightly to look her over.

“Baby-”

“Say it again,” Tessa interrupted, leaning in to kiss along his neck. “Please, JJ, say it again?”

Her voice was breathy and desperate, JJ had never heard her sound like that before. Even in the throes of bliss. It made his cock throb and ache, but he tried to push his lust down and focus on her request.

“Babe,” he choked, brain short circuiting as her teeth nipped against his pulse. “Tessa,” he tried again, a little stronger. He grabbed up her wrists, tugging her hands from him and pushing her back just enough to force her to meet his gaze.

Her pupils were blown wide, the normal hazel almost completely concealed by black. She looked a little manic and he wondered if she was having an episode. He tried to wrack his brain for other signs he may have missed throughout the day but couldn’t recall any. He’d even seen her take the little white pill this morning, before they took out the Pogue.

“Tess, baby, you good?” he questioned softly, keeping their gazes locked.

“I just…I…” she stuttered, before deciding to just ignore speaking and try rocking her hips against his again.

JJ grabbed her hip with one hand, keeping her wrists locked in the other, stilling her so she would focus.

“Talk to me,” he demanded. His nerves were starting to grate, the uncertainty of the situation creeping through him, expelling the lust he’d felt moments ago.

“I’m…you said I was good…I want to be good, J.”

His hedging anxiety dissipated in an instant, soothed that her mania was induced by pleasure and not anything more serious.

Using his grip on her wrist, JJ tugged her closer, pressing their lips together fiercely. He moved the kisses across her cheek, to her jaw, until his mouth rested at her ear.

“You wanna be a good girl for me, Tess?” he purred, reveling in the shudder that wracked her body and the deep, heated flush that colored her cheeks all the way down to the tops of her breasts.

“Yes,” Tessa breathed, tilting her head back to give him more access.

“My good girl,” he praised, laying her back into the pillows. Her arms returned to their position around him, fingers brushing through his soft blonde locks until they were mussed and standing on end.

JJ didn’t care as he delved down, kissing and nipping along the column of her throat, over her collarbone, to settle at her breasts.

“Legs up, baby,” he crooned, smirking against the velvety skin of her breast when she obeyed without hesitation. Her ankles crossed against his back, heels resting at the base of his spine.

He was quick to slide his board shorts down, only removing them enough to free his cock.

Tessa whimpered as he filled her, inch by inch until he was fully seated within her. Her fingers clutched at him, her hips rolling up to meet his.

He kept a slow pace, his cock dragging against the warm cavern that clutched him desperately.

Carefully, he pulled first one hand and then the other from his hair, lacing their fingers together against the teal sheets. His face hovered over hers, their breath mingling, and gazes locked.

There was something about the constant eye contact as he moved within her that drove her closer to the edge faster than she thought possible.

She whined, breathily. Her body moved with his, keeping pace with every deep thrust he landed within her. The tip of his cock brushed against the splendid spot, once, twice. Over and over again. Tessa gasped, eyes fluttering closed and head tilting back as ecstasy washed over her.

“No, no, baby,” he admonished with a husky chuckle. “Good girls keep their eyes open.”

She blinked rapidly, focusing her gaze on his again. She sighed, mewling and rocking against him.

“So good for me.”

Another mewl and it took a great deal of effort to continue obeying him as the knot in her abdomen began to rebuild.

She fought the urge to close her eyes though. She was good, she’d listen. If she listened, he’d stay and keep telling her she was good.

JJ felt Tessa’s walls start to flutter around him, gripping tighter. Her fingers squeezed his, her lower lip coming back to rest between her teeth as her whines started to rise in pitch.

He leaned in, closing the last few millimeters between them to capture her lip for himself.

“You close pretty girl?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

She nodded, leaning up to kiss him again. JJ swallowed her whimpers and moans, moving a little harder against her. His cock brushing relentlessly against the bliss inducing spot.

“Cum for me, good girl,” JJ commanded, forcing himself deeper inside her.

Tessa cried out, falling apart around him.

He joined her, dropping his face into her neck to bite the tender flesh of her shoulder, muffling his own sounds of pleasure as her body milked him.

As they returned to themselves, panting heavily and hearts still pumping rapidly, JJ rolled to the side, dragging Tessa with him until she rested curled around him.

She nuzzled happily into him, content to drift in post-coital bliss while he worked on pulling her comforter around them before laying back with her.

He watched her fade into unconsciousness, fingers twitching for the joint he had tucked in his bag. Tess didn’t like him smoking in her room though, her mom and brother asked too many questions and she wasn’t willing to let Topper in on the secret of her Pogue boyfriend just yet.

Instead, he distracted himself by toying with her hair. The soft blonde locks were tangled and mussed, but he was able to find sections that allowed him to sift his fingers through without disturbing her.

He was curious about this new kink they’d discovered. She’d never mentioned it before but based on the way she’d hesitated in telling him what she wanted, he would bet she hadn’t known about it before today. Not really anyway.

She’d told him about her dad, who’d split a couple years ago to move to the mainland with some secretary or intern or something. Tess had said she’d been close to him, before he’d divorced her mom and moved out with the twenty-some year old.

His gaze drifted across the room to the windowsill and the picture frames perched strategically there, focusing on the one in the middle.

The plain black frame was easy to miss, especially if you weren’t looking for it, surrounded by ones that were much larger and more decorative, but he’d seen it before. Inspected and even been a little jealous of it before he found out the story behind her dad’s departure.

The man in the picture didn’t really look like a Kook, with the black snap back and Dollar Store sunglasses, but that wasn’t what really interested JJ anymore. It was the little blonde girl, balanced precariously on a surfboard that was twice her size, while the non-Kook looking man carried it (and the girl) through the water.

It had been Tessa’s first time ever surfing, her dad had taken her out without her mom knowing. Tessa was maybe six in the picture. She didn’t remember much of the day when she tried to recount it, but it didn’t matter because it was one of her favorite memories anyway.

His gaze dropped to the bottom of the frame, tracing the silver letters in his mind.

Daddy’s Girl.

He glanced back down at Tess and smirked.

His Kook Princess had daddy issues, he’d stake all of his meager possessions (and John B.’s) on it.

He settled back into the orange and blue pillows, one arm behind his head while the other wrapped around Tessa’s thin frame, tugging her closer. His eyes drifted shut, ready to fall into the oblivion of sleep and take advantage of his girl’s luxury bed in place of John B.’s pull out sofa.

As sleep began to pull him under, a thought crossed his mind. Brief as it was, it still brought a confident smirk to his lips and he decided his next goal was to get Tessa to call him daddy at some point.

And wouldn’t that be just the perfect time for Topper to walk in on them?

#jj Maybank smut #jj Maybank x oc #jj Maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #jj Maybank fic #outer banks smut #obx

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thesunandseonghwa · 4 years ago

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Shadows and Angels | Part Eight

changbin x reader/chan x reader

warnings: panic attack, blood, being drugged

see here for glossary of terms used

masterlist

“I can get you into Faerie but I cannot promise you an escape,” Hyunjin stated simply, he leaned against his desk. Clad in a silk robe over what you presumed was his sleepwear. Extravagant as ever, his long now blonde locks brushing his shoulders. His gaze was hard, unchanging but he refused to meet your eye.

“You knew my parents, you said they were your family make good on that and help me, please,” You contemplated literally getting on your knees and begging him, you had to do this and you were running out of time, “Hyunjin, I need to do this,”

Hyunjin sighed with a quick snap of his fingers, he produced a hair tie and began pulling his hair up into a little knot. He began rummaging around in his shelves that lined the walls of his study, “By the way, have you decided on the dark haired one or the other fake blonde or both because I’d like to say that warlock’s studys are often enchanted so your heated daliance in here was not a good idea unless you enjoy the thrill of voyeurism,”

Your cheeks immediately flamed but you stood your ground “That’s none of your business, leave the two of them out of this,”

“So we’re yet undecided? Faeries do love their little love games, the Faerie blood is truly strong with you, hmm?” Hyunjin chuckled as pushed books aside, finally procuring a little box.

“Your two suitors are quite persistent,” Hyunjin glared at the door, “I did a favour for your parents and that favour got them killed, I don’t wish to send their only child to her death either,”

“I’ll be okay,” You lied through your teeth, preying he didn’t see right through you, “I’ve always had a plan, I promise I’ll be fine,”

“Figures, that’s what your mother told me before your father and her ran away,” Hyunjin laid a map in your hands, he held your hand for a moment. His grave expression marred his pretty face.

“Thank you Hyunjin,” You gripped the map tightly, you had a sudden realisation of massive debt you owed this warlock. He had protected you for years when you were a child, kept track of you and helped your parents and now you in your time of need.

You hugged him firmly, he seemed to be stunned for a few seconds before you felt him hug you back. He smelt of sage and cinnamon, somehow comforting like some distant memory you had shoved far into the recess of your mind and only now remembered fully. “Thank you for everything,”

“You don’t have to thank me, I owe your parents a great debt, there is a history there you might never understand,” Hyunjin laughed, a bittersweet look in his eyes, “Now you must go before your gentlemen caller- I mean callers come break my door down,”

“This map was a gift from.. a friend and it changes as Faerie changes, it will also show you exits when you need them, I can portal you close to the Seelie Court but you’ll still have to make some of the trip by foot,” Hyunjin explained, you nodded in understanding, ”You are stronger than you think, you have faerie blood and that means you have magic in your blood,”

“Be safe, little one,” Hyunjin smiled, the tips of fingers fluttered with that silver fire and a whirling portal of magenta, forest green and every other colour appeared in front of you. You gave him once last look, holding the map tighter to your chest before you closed your eyes and stepped into the swirling colours.

When you opened your eyes you were standing in the most beautiful forest you had ever seen. It was in full bloom as if it was the peak of Spring, everything was almost too perfect looking. The colours too bright and the dew on the leaves sparkled a little too brightly.

Nevertheless it was beautiful. You took a deep breath, grounding yourself. You were in Faerieland. The place your mother had run away from. You looked at the map Hyunjin had given you, planning your route and with a final deep breath you had began your journey to the Seelie Court. You walked and you walked, ignoring the ache in your bones and the protest of your mind. You lost track of time, the land had been bathed in sunlight when you had arrived and now it was dark. You looked up into the sky at too perfect stars and you suddenly wondered how Chan and Changbin were and if they were worried about you. You knew Chan would be worried out of his mind, he’d blame himself and try to come after you but you hoped Changbin would be his voice of reason.

The sound of music and revelry broke you out of your thoughts. The music seemed so familiar, it drew you in and you followed it. You wanted to be like people you saw then, they were carefree. Dancing and drinking, not a problem in the world. They smiled and laughed, their clothes or lack thereof moving with them.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” A scarily familiar voice came from behind you. You spun around, blade instantly in hand. It immediately fell when you saw who was behind you.

“Changbin?!” You exclaimed, you were beyond confused. How did he figure out where you went, how did he find you here? Then again, he was a long trained Shadowhunter maybe he was as good as he bragged, “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to find you, I have to tell you something,” He said, his eyes filled with sincerity. He took your hand in his, “Come with me, quickly,”

“No!” You exclaimed, ripping your hand from his grip, “I need to go to the Seelie Court, I have too,”

Changbin suddenly smashed his lips against yours, rough and piercing. You responded despite how much you hated it with the same ferocity. You had forgotten the way his lips felt against yours. You let your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him in close. He held you at the waist firmly. Something didn’t feel right. Something felt off, the way he placed his hands or maybe it was the way it lacked that intensity and desperation you remembered. Maybe it was you or maybe it had just been too long. It was just you, wasn’t it?

“Come with me, y/n…” He whispered into your ear, it sent shivers down your spine. You nodded in a daze of lust, confusion floating away.

You followed with his hand tightly around your own, he moved quickly and you stumbled to keep up with him. The next thing you knew, you were in the middle of the revel you had been gazing at earlier. You were enveloped by the music and surrounded by the swaying bodies, the sights and smells. You heard the unfamiliar and almost unnatural sound of Changbin laughing as he handed you a glass of something, you hadn’t realised how thirsty you were and downed it in one go.

Everything drew you in, you couldn’t help the sway of your body. Your hands in Changbin’s, you danced. Your smiles mirroring each others, he spun you around and around. You laughed so hard your stomach hurt, you wanted to pull him closer but your hand grabbed for nothing but air. You immediately panicked. You whirled around looking for him but you found another face in the midst of the chaos of bodies.

A face you would recognise anywhere and that made your heart ache with longing. A dimpled smile, bleach blonde hair and pretty brown eyes but the warmth was missing. It was strange. He only looked at you in despair, his face instantly falling as he saw you. Chan had looked at you then with so much sadness and contempt, it felt like he had all but ripped your heart from your ribcage with his bare hands.

“Chan?” You asked, confusion made your head start swirling. You stumbled, trying to push through bodies to get to the safety of him but he was too far away. You pushed and you pushed but you couldn’t get through, it felt like the air was thinning around you.

You tried to get to him but you just couldn’t.

You fell to your hands and knees. The soil under your hands getting under your fingernails, you tried to focus on something, anything but everything in front of you, all the colours and all the sounds were blurring into one and you couldn’t grasp at anything. Tears began streaming down your cheeks, cries for help getting stuck in your throat and no one even noticed. You clawed at the ground, you forced yourself to stand on weak, shaky knees. You stumbled forward, you all but tumbled out of the crowd.

Once you were free of the bodies, you backed yourself up against a tree. Sliding down to the floor, cradling your knees. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to gain some sense of awareness of what was going on around you.

“Y/N please…” That voice, Changbin’s voice again or was it Chan?

“No! Leave me alone!” You screamed, jumping to your feet with both of your blades in hand. Changbin’s face twisted into a smirk, he advanced towards you, “Stay away from me, don’t touch me!”

You hadn’t registered that you attacked really, both your blades piercing clean through his chest. Blood seeping through the white shirt he wore, you screamed when you had realised what you’d done. You held onto your blades tightly, they were the only things securing you to the now. You watch him fall to the floor with a thud, you stared at his body in shock. A sour taste of bile coating your mouth. You wiped the blood on your hands off on your clothes desperately, what had you done?

You did the thing you knew best, you ran.

You ran through the trees, scared and in no particular direction you just ran till your lungs burned. You tripped over something your blades flying out in front of you and you landing hard on your stomach. You wheezed, tears still streaming down your face. What had you done? You were a monster. A killer. You had killed him.

“Y/N? Is that you?!” That voice, that was his voice. You were going insane, you had to be, your own mind was making it’s own way to torture you.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” You shouted into the air, the figure that the voice belonged to back away. It wasn’t Changbin, it couldn’t be. You killed him like the vile person you truly were. You had blood on your hands since you were born after all.

A careful hand reached out to you, you looked up through tear-filled puffy eyes. Chcolate-brown eyes, warm as always but filled with concern. Chan.

“Y/N, it’s me, I promise you it’s me,” You looked into his eyes, filled with that familiar tenderness, there was no lie there. There was nothing fake about the look he gave you, “You told me you slept with a teddy bear named Mr Stuffy till you were seventeen, you said you don’t like being the big spoon because you fit like a backpack, baby girl look at me please it’s me,”

You threw yourself into his arms, the feeling was like coming home as it always was with Chan. Sobs left you in painful heaves, you felt him rub careful circles on your back. Small ones then big ones then small ones like you remembered, “It’s okay, just take deep breaths,”

You gathered your thoughts as best you could, taking deep breaths.

Once you had significantly calmed down, the realization set in. Chan was here. In Faerie.

“What are you doing here?!” You pushed off from his chest slightly, hands still firmly planted on his chest. Grounding you. “Did you really think I- We’d let you go to Faerie alone? We’ve been looking for you,” A voice though without the usual bite but very much alive chimed in, Changbin was here too.

It wasn’t real.

You’d been so stupid, you came here so sure of yourself and a faerie had tricked you so easily. You felt like you couldn’t look him in the eye as if with only that he could read everything in your mind and see all you’d done with the fake version of him... and all you’d imagined doing.

“Also Hyunjin called us as soon as you left,” Chan explained further, you tentatively stepped out of his arms, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded though you weren’t sure how sure you actually were of that fact, the feel of that faerie’s blood on your hands. Perhaps you weren’t Changbin’s killer but you had killed someone. Taken a life. It had felt like something cracked inside you and you wondered it that was the start of something much bigger.

“We got what we came for now let’s go home,” Changbin said, you shot him a warning look,

“I came here for a reason, we have to get Felix back you were the one that was talking about taking action instead of sitting around?” You chastised the boy, his brows furrowed,

“By take action, I meant we go to Faerie with the best at the Institute and we steal him back, not hand yourself in or go charging into the Seelie Court demanding we give him back?” He rolled his eyes, Chan sighed running his hand through his curls in a frustrated manner.

“Okay guys, we aren’t leaving here with Felix I agree but we also can’t simply just hand y/n over but luckily we know someone who is pretty high ranking Seelie in the queen’s court and maybe if we asked this someone for help then...” Chan trailed off, his eyes were pleading as he looked Changbin.

Changbin’s face was a look of pure disdain, “You’re kidding right, you’ve got to be kidding me?”

You had an inkling of idea of who Chan could be referring too but you sincerely hoped you were wrong, “Is he referring to the one that tried to kidnap me?”

“Also the one that is the reason he got bit by a Shax demon?” Changbin and you exchanged incredulous before turning to Chan, he couldn’t possibly be serious.

“That one exactly, Binnnie,”

For once Changbin and you were in complete agreement, “You think he’ll help us? Jisung? Jisung who kidnapped Felix?”

“I know there’s still good in him when those demons attacked when I was on mission with Felix, I was almost overwhelmed but he killed the last one, he saved me,” Chan explained,

“Are you forgetting he held Felix at knifepoint and then kidnapped him right after that!” Changbin exclaimed, “You cannot possibly believe that he’ll actually help us?”

“You two aren’t even supposed to be here, I came here alone for a reason I didn’t want anyone else risking their life for mine,” You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest, “This is too risky,”

“It’s part of our job description and we’re not letting you give yourself over to the Queen, we can figure something out but we’re not letting you walk to your death at least not alone and not without a fight,” Chan tried to reach for your hand but you didn’t let him, you hated the hurt look that flashed in his eyes,

“That isn’t for you to decide, this is my life and I can decide how it ends, no one else has to fight for me or get hurt or die!” You hadn’t realised you were shouting till you saw the expressions of the two Shadowhunters in front of you, “Felix was taken because of me, my adoptive parents died so did my biological parents and all to protect me, I’ve had enough bloodshed and I will not let Felix be another,”

“But-” Chan began, Changbin put a hand on his Parabatai’s shoulder.

To the both of your surprise Changbin spoke up, “We’ll try and find Jisung but if he isn’t willing to help us then let y/n do what needs to do, we can’t make her decisions for her,”

You silently thanked Changbin for supporting you, something you thought you’d never live to see him do. You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing perhaps you were more alike than you had thought. Then again, you didn’t have nearly as good and big of a heart as Chan did.

Chan let out a big sigh, “That’s the last resort but we’re going to try everything else we possibly can first?”

“Agreed,” The three of you said in unison,

“Now where the hell does one find a navy haired backstabbing piece of shit?” Changbin said with an uncharacteristically bright smile that was more unsettling than anything else, “When we do find him: I’m going to punch him and if he doesn’t want to help us then I’ll kill him,”

Now that was the Changbin you knew, you couldn’t believe you had believed that shape-shifting faerie had been him. The faerie was much too sweet-tongued and if you thought about it, he damn well didn’t kiss like him or have his smell of leather and some expensive cologne. You shook your head as if you could physically shake the thought of him out of your head.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay?” Chan raised his hand to your cheek, holding your face with that familiar tenderness that he held in his voice too.

You couldn’t help the way the corners of your mouth quirked into a smile, the wave of warmth that rolled through you was welcomed as a chill breeze ruffled the forest of Faerie, “I’m alright, don’t worry,”

“For now I think we need to rest up and in the morning we’re going to see one of Changbin’s old... uh- flames?” Chan fumbled with his words, Changbin lips pressed into a thin line.

“It was more of a gentle simmer across my teen years that went very sour very quickly,” Changbin explained, “But I’d like to get a good night’s rest before I have to prepare myself to face death,”

You looked at Chan in confusion, “I swear no one ever tells me anything interesting?”

Chan laughed as he swung his backpack off to the floor then slid down next to it, you followed his actions. Sitting down closely next to him criss cross apple sauce, your knees touching. Changbin rested against a tree trunk, his arms crossed, “I’m nodding off then if you’re going to tell this story,”

He promptly closed his eyes and his head drooped within a few minutes, you rolled your eyes at how easily he fell asleep, “How does he do that?”

“He’s always tired, he usually doesn’t let himself sleep much but when he does he sleeps like a log,” Chan shrugged his shoulders, you smiled at him before laying back on the soft ground. Chan slipped his arm underneath your head like he usually would when you slept in his room at the Institute. You revelled in the normalcy of it all and the comfort it brought.

The both of you looked up at the sky, filled with stars and constellations you’d never seen before. The brightness of the stars above highlighted Chan’s features making him almost look like he was glowing. You couldn’t fathom how beautiful he was sometimes from his personality to his looks, you truly felt like didn’t deserve him. He was so bright, full of love and light always ready to give that out.

You moved to lay with your head on his chest. The gentle rise and fall of it and the sound of his heartbeat, a reminder you weren’t alone and you were alive, beginning to lull you to sleep. A gentle press of his lips to your forehead banishing all that could hurt you away, “Thank you, Chan,”

“For what?”

“For being you, for being so understanding, for giving me love I don’t deserve, for everything?”

Chan slipped a finger under your chin to tilt your head upwards. He looked at you with the reflection of starlight in his eyes before he kissed you, soft and sweet. An acknowledgement, an acceptance or of reciprocation, you didn’t know that but you did know that you were beginning to fall, very hard for a Shadowhunter.

If only you could figure out which one.

■━■━■━■━■━■━■━■

Once again, apologies for the long wait!

I’ve got final exams coming up so I might have to put this on hold soon for a little while. I do plan on continuing as soon as I’m not so swamped with academics :((

25 notes · View notes

queenjunoking · 4 years ago

Text

Wolf Taming Pt 26

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping - Manipulation - Consent Violation

2 Years Ago

“Morning Z.” A woman’s voice pulled me from my sleep. I blinked a few times to clear my eyes and saw Briar standing in the doorway holding a plate. “Oh dear. Were you actually sleeping last night? I’m really sorry I woke you up, you need all of it you can get.”

Briar was one of the few people I’d met that I could actually stand. She joined the Society about a month before I did and had been one of the few people who seemed genuine. For better or worse she had taken an interest in me after Eos had recommended I work here. She was nice and helpful, but it also meant enduring her quirks.

"Hello Miss Briar, how are you today?"

She sighed. "For the last time Z we're equals here. Briar is fine. It feels strange for you of all people to be calling me by a title."

"The Society has been pretty strict on titles, I'd prefer to keep to them while we're in one of their buildings."

"Z, between the two of us you're the one with an epithet. You should be a higher rank than you are. You're very good at what you do."

"The epithet is just a joke at my expense. If I was capable of doing things your way I would."

“I see. Epithets are a pretty big honor to have. Only like what, 7 percent of members have one? Why do you feel like it’s a joke?”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Psychoanalyze me. Leave that for whoever's in your file for today.” Briar was nice, but she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. It seemed like she was digging for something when I talked to her. She was a psychologist before she joined the Society. From my own experience with psychologists they made it a habit to stick their noses where you didn’t want them too.

Briar went silent for a moment before changing the subject. “So who is it today?”

“Some rando who decided to look for the Society.”

“Reporter?”

“No.” I couldn’t manage to suppress a sigh. “A kinkster that doesn’t really get what this place is about. Unfortunately for her it’s a bit too late to back out. Could I have a minute so I can get dressed?”

“Sure, I’ll be waiting outside.”

I looked at the clock, it was already two in the afternoon. I didn’t think it was that late already, apparently I did fall asleep at some point. It’s not like I’d gone outside much recently, I mostly kept to myself and daylight didn’t easily reach a place this deep.

I put on a pair of my favorite jeans and a black t-shirt and I was ready. A lot of the other breakers liked to dress up, find a theme to their work. One girl here dressed as a latex nurse. One guy loved his heavy goth look. Briar loved leather. I mostly kept it casual. I didn’t see why I should need some gimmick for my job.

I opened the door and motioned to her to come with. “Alright, lets go.”

“Nuh-uh. Wait.” She put out an arm to bar my exit and motioned for me to back up. “Here, have something to eat before you gather your equipment.” She placed the plate she was handing onto my desk. Just some toast and jam.

“I could have gotten something to eat myself.”

“I’m sure you could have, but were you going too?”

“Maybe? I kind of have a lot to take care of.”

“Uh-huh. Did you eat anything yesterday?” I hated when she did this, I could feel her looking me over like she could pick out something I did to prove that I was lying to her. I’m not sure why she cared.

“Fine!’ I was getting exasperated. I took a bite of the toast. “I’m eating it. Happy now?”

“Happier. You need to take care of yourself.” I was bracing myself for another lecture, but she went quiet. “You really leaving at the end of the week, Z?”

“Mhm. Today’s lucky capture will be the last one I’ll have to do. Got a house lined up and stuff. We’ll see how it goes. Plus... she’ll be done today.”

“Oh, right. If you want some help with that later on let me know. It’ll be easier with two people. If you ever want to talk about it you know where I’ll be.”

“I don’t have anything I need to talk about. Have a good day Briar.” I heard a bit of a sad sigh when I walked away from her. I had other things on my mind, I didn’t really have time to think about her five hundredth attempt to get me to talk to her about something. I flipped open the file

Name: Kim Raum

Height: 5’ 5

Eyes: Grey

Hair: Blonde (Bleached and Dyed)

Former Job: Tech Firm Manager

Reason for Capture: She stuck her nose where it didn’t belong and learned too much. She has been designated a liability.

Additional Information: We’ve searched through her computers and phone and evidence she is already a submissive who fantasizes about being owned by another person. She has a particular interest in being a petgirl and has fantasies of being a fox girl. She has masochist tendencies. We believe it is these tendencies that got her onto a trail of rumors about the Society. Others involved have already been captured and brought to the auction house.

We did not bring her here for her own pleasure. She is here to be punished for her transgressions. We recommend either Miss Briar or Z for this task due to the particular needs required. A complete break is requested.

Known Fears or Phobias: N/A

Chosen Breaker: Z

Chosen Fate for the New Capture: Sold at Auction.

Breaker Percentage: 3%

Breaker Notes: I sent out an invitation to the target via a Society Member working in a kink dungeon she frequents to visit the Auction House. The member is known to her and she agreed to the “full experience” which included a “fake” kidnapping where she will be secured on an evening walk by a capture team lead by Jude. I have orders for her to be placed in my usual room where she will be under the belief that this is just a sex club of some sort. In order to expedite the process she was given something to fill out so she knows what kinds of activities she may experience here.

It was going to be a long day. We occasionally caught some reporters or friends of those we captured snooping about. If the Society felt it was safe to move against them we’d capture them. I’m not sure we ever came across someone who was looking to join willingly. They really had no idea what we were about.

I went to the preparation area and picked out the things I wanted. It was always the same list. I found my method effective enough I didn’t see a reason to change it. I filled out an order for it to be set out for 7 P.M., when I’d be meeting the person I’d be spending time with for a few days.

I got a message informing me last minute this session would be recorded as it was my last one. It was for record keeping as I had yet to have a recorded session. I sighed and returned to my room. I spent the remainder of my time trying to act in front of my mirror. I felt I was a pretty bad actor, but I only needed to be so convincing. My alarm went off at 6:45 and I made my way to the breaking chambers.

I opened the door and saw the occupant go from looking around the room to pretending to be asleep. I rolled my eyes and entered the room. They were shackled in my favorite device. It was similar to a chair you might see in a gynecologist office, but the stirrups could lock and the arms could be locked up near their head. It gave me full access to their body.

“Good evening Miss Raum, I know you’re awake.”

“What gave it away?”

“I saw you looking around.”

“That was more of a rhetorical… anyway. Are you Z? Where you the one who sent me that message?”

“I am. One of the perks of working here is getting a one night voucher you can give to someone. It’s a pretty special gift. I didn’t have anyone I wanted to give mine too so I asked Aiden if he knew anyone who would appreciate it. He dropped your name.”

“Guess I’m just lucky. This place is exciting. Have you seen the place up front? There's an entire stage, what’s it for?”

“This is the Auction House Miss Raum, the stage is the most important place in the entire building.”

I saw her eyes go wide. “Like you guys actually auction off people here? How does it work? Is it just like for some activities tonight or something?”

I smiled at her. “You’ll learn in due time. If you’re good for me you might get to see it yourself.”

“Aww… I have to be good?” She flashed some puppy dog eyes at me.

“Good is a relative term. Believe me, you’ll know if you’re being bad. But we have to go through the formalities before we really begin. We try to keep the Auction House pretty immersive, but we have to check in first. What is your name?

“Kim Raum.”

“Miss Raum-”

“Please just call me Kim.”

“Alright. Kim. Kim, do you remember the safeword you were given before?”

“Traffic light system, I got it.”

“And you know my particular area I work with?” I circled around behind her. I reached into the refrigerated portion and pulled out a knife and a pair of scissors and placed them in my pockets.

“Aiden said you like ‘sensory stuff’ and said it would be better to talk to you about it than him spoiling the surprise.”

“Pretty much. I hope it’ll be something you remember. Are you wearing the clothes I requested?” I stood behind her as we talked. Every movement mattered since this was being recorded.

“I might have worn something nicer had I realized what kind of upscale place this was, but I wore what you asked. Clothes I didn’t mind losing. Jude already showed me where to go to pick up new clothes after this. I have to admit, the immersive experience has been pretty great so far. Kidnapping team is quite fantastic.”

I gave her a smile. It’s interesting hearing someone so happy about a trap they willingly walked into. “You know what to do if it gets too much. I’m sure you know what to do if you want more as well. Just say your name and that you consent and we can begin. You can always revoke it at any time.”

“My name is Kim Raum and I consent to this.” I slipped a blindfold over her eyes. This always worked best when they couldn’t see.

I wrapped my arms around her from the back. I pressed the button on the switchblade and it shot out, grazing her cheek with it’s icy tip. I felt her tense up a bit. A great start.

“Oooooh nooooo. Are you going to hurt me? That’s terrible.” I could hear a bit of a laugh. I’m glad she was enjoying herself for now.

I walked around to the front of her, dragging the tip of the knife down from the side of her wrist to her waist as I walked by. Light enough not to draw blood. Hard enough to feel the cold sharp blade. “We’ll see. Your clothes are in my way.”

I pulled the pair of scissors out of my pocket. I felt her shiver as the metal touched her stomach. I held onto her shirt as I slid the scissors up her stomach, the scissors slid through the cloth like it was a hot knife through butter. I managed to bisect her shirt and bra with one motion. A lucky move to be honest, I usually had to make a second cut for that. With a few more swipes I cut down the sleeves to the center before I pulled the tatters off of her and threw them to the side.

I moved down to her pants and did the same thing. A single gliding cut up each pant leg and I could pull them off. I didn’t catch her panties with them unfortunately. The scissors had warmed up at this point so I placed them off to the side. I flicked open the knife and traced it over her as I studied them.

I decided to take the risk. I held the knife close like I was going to cut them off. Then with one motion I instead grabbed them and pulled, tearing the fabric and pulling them off.

“Whoa.” “Yeah, I’m kind of impressed in myself to be honest. Wasn’t sure if it would work and it would have been embarrassing if it didn’t.” I walked back over to the cart and placed the knife and scissors back in the refrigerated compartments. “How about we switch it up a bit?”

“Got more settings than cold?” She did enjoy poking at me. I wasn’t sure if that really made me feel better or worse about what I was building up to.

I gave her a little chuckle. “A couple more at least.”

I placed a few things on a tray and brought it over to her. A wand vibrator, two lotions, some swabs, and some latex gloves.The vibrator came with an attachment so I could hook it to the chair. I put it on it’s lowest setting and placed it snug against her. “I like to introduce a bit of pleasure to go with the pain.”

“Oh? Were the scissors and the knife not supposed to be the pleasure portion?”

“I can see you were the right person to give that voucher to Kim. I’m sure you’ll appreciate what else we’ll be doing.”

I slid on the gloves and applied a dab of the bottles to each nipple. I began rubbing it in and listened to her moan. Soon enough their effects began to work and she squirmed a bit. “Something wrong?”

“Probably not, just a little surprised. A tiny bit chilly on one side but the other side is a bit hot.” It was a neat little concoction. One side was a special mixture of a pepper the Society cultivated. The other side was a mint extract of some type. It wasn’t too bad without the full mixture.

“How’s it feeling?” I whispered into her ear.

“It’s an interesting feeling. Surely you can do a bit more though?”

Just the opening I was waiting for. I turned the wand up to a higher setting and walked back to the cart and picked up the items I needed for the main performance. Another lotion bottle, a spray bottle, a syringe, a vial, an enema bag, a jug of ice water, a special rubber gag and a hood. Everything she needed to be comfortable for a few hours. I removed her blindfold so she could see the tray.

“Is that a syringe?” I could hear the caution in her voice.

“Indeed it is. The Society creates a lot of their own drugs among other things. This is a particularly fun one I think you’ll enjoy.” I held up the syringe and filled it with the contents of the vial.

“Red. No.” She paused for a second to moan as the vibrator continued to do its work. “Red. No needles. No drugs.” She sat there, expecting something to happen. I was just searching for the best place to inject it. “What the fuck are you doing?! Stop!”

“What was that Kim?”

“Are you deaf I said re-” When she opened her mouth again I lifted the spray bottle and sprayed the contents into her mouth. “What the hell was-” she was interrupted again when she suddenly screamed and began to thrash in the chair. I felt a smile touch my lips but I quickly wiped it away.

I grabbed the rubber gag and shoved it into her mouth. It was an oval gag meant to keep the wearer’s mouth pried open but wouldn’t let them bite down all the way. It helped protect the tongue.

I grabbed her by the hair to pull her head to the headrest. “Look at me.” Her eyes darted towards me, wide. I could see she was afraid now. She knew the play was done. “Kim, that's a special spray made with a pepper that’s cultivated by our group. It’s called a Hellfire Kiss. I’ve obviously never tried it myself. I’m not really into spicy things. But I’m told it's over as hot as a Carolina Reaper but I’m afraid I don’t really have a reference for how hot that is. Be good and I’ll share something I have that’ll neutralize it. Be bad and I’m sure I can find other places you really don’t want this to touch. You’re shackled to a chair right now, you have nowhere you can escape to. Nod your head up and down if you want to be a good girl.”

She was still trying to break out of the chair, but she vigorously nodded her head up and down. “It’s so easy to be a good girl Kim, I’m glad you’ve decided to work with me.” I jabbed her with the needle and injected the substance. It was quite the lovely mixture. A special stimulant that helped the user take more of a beating before they would lose consciousness. It also intensified sensations, making everything she was feeling even more intense.

I pulled on another pair of latex gloves and squirted the lotion into my hands. I ignored her crying and applied the lotion to her nipples. She gasped as the full effect of the lotions started. The other two on their own were nice for sore muscles. If either was mixed with this one it intensified their effects. I was told that it was fairly safe but the sensation would keep intensifying for a while. As the seconds ticked by her thrashing renewed and unintelligent babble left her mouth.

It was easier not to acknowledge it. She would have to get used to not being acknowledged in any meaningful way.

I inserted the enema plug into her none too gently. I had things to do today and didn’t want to spend much more time here. She made a small noise of discontent at the feeling but started begging again when I started to fill the bag. I just kept ignoring her. It didn’t really matter what she wanted or what her thoughts on anything were anymore. It was time she learned that. I watched as it started to run into her. The water was just barely above freezing. It would be pretty painful. Beyond just being filled to the brim with water that cold it would cause pretty horrific cramping.

“Almost done. Then you can sit on your own for a few hours and think about how you willingly came here.” I placed the earbuds in her. They just played loud static. I wanted her to focus on the sensation. It was best to make sure every sense was being used.

I took one last look into her eyes before I pulled the hood over her head. It covered her eyes but left a place open for her nose and mouth. I opened the spray bottle and dipped some swabs in the mixture. I held the bottle up to her mouth and gave her another spray, resulting in a new round of screams. I went over to the table and picked out a plug for the gag and inserted it, forcing her to breathe through her nose. I heard her whimper as the first round of cramps spread through her. I took the swabs and swirled them around her nose. I watched her fingers curl as she tried to reach for her face. This method kept it around longer. She’d be breathing it in for awhile.

With that I was done. In a few hours she’d pass out and someone else would clean her up. I’d be repeating this activity several times a day for the rest of the week and hope she broke before the end of the week.

I looked back at my last victim. Anyone else would have drawn out what they were doing. Slowly breaking them over time until they acknowledge their new lot in life. But not me. I did my best to overwhelm them with sensations until it was too much for them. She was a sobbing mess now but soon she would break and be fine. I broke them as quick as I could to protect them from anymore suffering.

I was a figure of mercy.

I cared for them.

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jjkpls · 6 years ago

Text

Mean Yoongi 2 (m)

> genre : smut, light angst, fluff

> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)

> words : 5.4k

> warnings : explicit sexual content, strong language

> For once, Min Yoongi is not that mean and tries to help you feel better after an umpteenth date fail. (sex in the genius lab basically)

> A/N : Feel free to listen to the inspiration for this :D I hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts ❤

> previous

< next

“You're here?” Yoongi is standing up from his chair, face scrunched up in a scowl as he glares down at me.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to answer to that.

It's been more than an hour since I've knocked on the door of his studio, entered and installed myself on the sofa, right behind him.

I was not sneaky about it too. He looked at me. He did. When I opened the door, we've glanced at each other. I mouthed something about wanting to hang out since he could probably not hear me with the earphones set on his head. Completely expressionless, he turned around in his chair and proceeded on working again, typing and clicking away on his computers, not minding me anymore.

I'm not sure what it meant. But it's not like I really cared at that point since I wasn't planning on leaving his studio and meeting stupid Taehyung and have a fucking painful time with this idiot.

So I've just remained there, keeping myself occupied on my phone. Eventually, he would finish what he's been doing and pay attention to me -at least, turn around and sneer my way or something. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to handle my presence, too obnoxious somewhere behind his back, and quit working to throw me out. I mean, anything.

But he did not. For more than an hour. And if the hardly raised dark eyebrows of his are anything to go by, he's completely forgotten that I was there.

“Uhm... but you've seen me?” I mumble, confused and slightly embarrassed.

“Why are you not with Taehyung?” I frown, diverting my attention back to the screen of my phone. There's still a little Chimmy asking if I want to “try again!” this level. I hear Yoongi sigh, gravely. He lets himself fall back in his chair, this time facing my lain form on the couch. One of his hand messes with his bleached-white hair. When it falls back down on his lap, he sighs again, asking the same question again this time pressing me with the stressed syllables of my name he's added.

I wonder how upset I must look for him to show so much patience. We haven't talked in quite a few weeks, mostly because of my schedule being suddenly overbooked by a sudden shit load of work being dropped in the office I work at. But from what I remember, he wouldn't have made the effort to ask twice the same question before.

“He's going to annoy me...” I peek at him from the corner of my eyes. He's leaned on his right side, the tip of his fingers pressing against his worn-out eyes. When he's done and the silence of the studio is striking him, he opens them up and stares back, in expective. “It's dumb...” Straightening up, he leans back, elbows setting on the armrests, fingers intertwining on his stomach. His piercing gaze is not leaving me longer than it takes for him to blink and I know I own his whole attention.

I feel kind of silly now. Taehyung would be a pain but Yoongi surely won't be much better. The plan was just to hang out with him, or next to him at least, not to actually have him show interest and concern for my life. Never failing to disappoint.

Laboriously, I get up, getting in the best disposition to tell my little lame tale about the whole Tinder debacle. I tell him, trying to avoid digressing on meaningless details that could earn me time, about this guy I've met. About how he came off weird by sending me a dick pic the day following our very first text exchange but how I gave him a pass for his “momentary lapse of judgement”. There're not many movements on Yoongi's part. His face has never been an opened book but I would expect him to show some reactions. Since he doesn't, I suppose he doesn't think it's that much of a big deal so I keep going, summarizing briefly the beginning of our first (and last) date and more precisely, I tell him about how he didn't look at all like his cousin's pictures he had used on his profile. I can feel fire burning my cheeks both from anger and embarrassment, as I start, mindlessly, counting on my fingers the other lies and other uncharming quirks of this guy as I name them out loud.

I've lost myself in a passionate tornado of complaints, now lashing on how greasy his hands were (and not from being sweaty, actually greasy with a something that I could not pinpoint but definitely fucking gross) when Yoongi starts mumbling something. I shut my mouth right up, all ears for the first comment he's about to give me.

“Okay. Why are you here? Isn't it Taehyung's job to list-”

“Min Yoongi.” I don't mean to but I whine. Because all the pent up frustration from this terrible day has been awoken by my telling and I don't feel like dealing with Mean Yoongi right now. He looks at me, eyes dark but oddly soft. I note how the light blond hair makes wonder for his naturally sharp glare. Smacking his lips, sighing again, Yoongi tilts his head to the side. “Actually, Tae told me not to go meet him because of the whole dick pic thingy but I didn't listen. We fought a bit about that. Now he's going to be oh-so-happy to have this whole shit to rub in my face,” Taking a stupid voice and twisting my face in an even stupider expression, I mimic, “'I told you so, dumbass! You should listen to-'”

“Tae's your friend. He's not gonna be happy that you had a miserable date.” It's my turn to sigh. Deep and hard, for it to resonates in the whole studio and Yoongi to hear it well. He is so disagreeable. He doesn't know anything about the proper friend etiquette. Yet he's right. And he's talking with me instead of throwing me out, and cursing at me for making him waste his time which I am sure, he strongly feels the need to.

“It's not the first time, right?”

“What is?”

“Tinder fail.”

“Oh.”

No, it's not. I've decided to stop counting when I realized that I was about to miss fingers to tally them on.

I can’t say that I’m starting to lose hope in my dating abilities because I’ve never really thought I was made for it. Which might be the reason why it all went down to shit. That’s what my mom would say. If I start with that attitude I shouldn’t feel struck by the result. In the end, there’s one common factor to all these equations.

That being said, why would falsely cute catfishes be so good at texting, I don’t get it? I meet them and they fucking suck balls, but at some point, they were nice and charming and normal. Well, most of them anyway if we put aside the one from today. Yes, it was in this very case a lapse of judgement on my part but the dick pic, not that I condone it or even liked it, intrigued me. It was a good one. Not his -also his cousin’s from my understanding, don’t ask me how he got that. But a nicely shot one, by clearly a professional, and I thought vaguely that maybe a guy that knew what he wanted, was so confident in his own attributes, might be a good option for my slow prude ass.

A mistake.

“Why are you so desperate to date?” Yoongi’s nose bridge scrunches up so tight, the round tip of his nose seems to try to meet the low frown of his dark eyebrows. I almost wish out loud for his stupid face to stay stuck in that position. He wouldn’t be any less irritating but at least, slightly cuter. And he hates cute.

“Desperate? I- Yoongi, do you know for how long I haven’t dated? I’m human, I get lonely!” I can’t help my voice to raise a few octaves. If I hold in more of my frustration, I’m sure I’ll end up doing something terrible and impossible to undo like crying, for example. “Don’t you?”

He shrugs. His expression has softened back into his regular blank one as he just contemplates in front of him. Not really me, not really the small coffee table or the carpet. I’m about to pry a word from him when his phone starts vibrating furiously on his desk. Turning hardly enough to check from over his shoulder, he looks then presses the screen turning it back to black.

Maybe I should leave now. I’m more upset than I thought myself to be. Which is so stupid. I couldn’t care less about that Bamboum guy or whatever his real name was. I still feel pretty stupid except more stupid than pretty and kind of helpless. Taehyung was going to be annoying as fuck if I had chosen to go seek him, but it was a mistake to even think Yoongi would, in any way, make me feel better. I should have clung to someone else like Jungkook or something. “How’s your ass?” I can’t even attempt to hide the startle his low voice, erupting after such a long painfully silent moment, provokes me along with the mention of the incident. Because it has to be what he is referring to.

Yoongi, still sitting in his chair, knees spread wide like he is trying to prove he owns the whole place as if I don’t already know from the multiple apparitions of his stage name all over the walls and shelves, ponders me, awaiting patiently for an answer. He has the faint shadow of a growing smirk painting his pink lips. He looks at me like he knows he’ll get an answer. He’s decided he’ll have one. Squeezing my fists tight to try and conceal the tension in my voice, I start, “Why are you mentioning this now?”

“I haven’t seen you since. Just inquiring.”

His voice is strained by a faint amusement. It’s lighthearted, I’m pretty sure. I, therefore, decide to just ignore it. Because what the hell does he want me to say anyway? That it felt alright on the way home but the sting was almost unbearable when I woke the next day and that I couldn’t even spend a minute without being reminded of his ministrations for the following three days as any movement, any brush of material against my skin, awoke the burn.

Yeah, sure.

Yoongi chuckles. He sees me looking down at my hands, turning mortified and embarrassed, and he decides it’s enough teasing. He grabs his phone, checking the time quickly.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, we ate at a restaurant.” I grumble, eyes still not raised enough to have to acknowledge his upsetting face.

“You ate with the guy? What's wrong with you?”

And here I realize why, maybe, I'm blessed by his usual lack of responses. Maybe I should try and actually cry in front of the guy, I know him to have something of a soft heart hidden somewhere. The one that winks when he expects it the less, when he lets his guard down. I could try and trigger it. Maybe he'll be less of an ass then.

“I'm not- what was I supposed to do? I'm not a bitch.”

“It's not about you being a bitch, it's about raising your standards a bit, damn...”

“D'you remember me explaining you, like 5 seconds ago, why I didn't want to see Tae right now?” He's rendered speechless. I don't know if it's from my doing or his own but he just stays there, exchanging a knowing look with me. I think he's giving in. He realizes that maybe he's being too much of an ass for what I can take.

Yoongi then swirls around on his chair. I start gathering my few belongings, assuming I'm being dismissed since he's starting to type away on his computer again but he startles me when he grabs the little stool, hidden under his desk, to drag it on the floor and set it next to his own chair. His other arm reaches out to unplug his headphones, while he throws out in the air, “Wanna listen what I've been working on?”

I gasp aloud, voice squealing a bit, as my heart is seized by a shock wave of excitement. YES, I DO. Anything else, any concern or growing grudges just annihilate all together when I jump on the little stool, unable to contain my grin and watching with wide eager eyes the screen displaying a music editing software I’ve seen him used multiple time before.

His lips are stretched by a tiny smile when he clicks a few times until the first notes drop. While I’m appreciating, mouth agape, all attention on the sample, Min Yoongi lays back in his chair, the back of his head leaning impossibly far to stare at the ceiling, his long milky neck exposed. It lasts about 30 seconds but those are the wildest seconds I’ve ever experienced. The sample is a bop. It’s that mix between heavy languish bass and a light melody alike an oriental traditional instrument, added to intricacies faint, subtle that my ignorant and so impressionable dumb brain can’t but feel without really deciphering. It’s different from what the band makes. More mature and hefty in a way. Something Agust D would manage well but then again, it has a delicacy to it that doesn’t really fit to his dark, raw character.

And here again I’m astonished by the extent of his talent as an artist, being able to surprise and reinvent himself while still producing something -and I know it’s just a snippet of a song that is far from actually existing yet but damn it is- that phenomenal. 30 seconds is very short of a time to convince someone your song will be a hit. But it’s enough there to fucking blow me away. I’d ask him to save this on an hour loop for me to take home if only he were not looking at me with this expression.

That’s so Yoongi. His mouth shut won’t say a thing but his eyes are very talkative except I’m missing a lot of words. He’s put his hat on, swiping his hair backwards, exposing his dark set of straight eyebrows so that his eyes are back to being sharp and dark, soft in the fineness of their upper line’s course but raw and assertive in expression.

“Yoongi, it’s-“ There’s a sudden drilling sound cutting me off and making me jump on my stool. It’s his phone again. Sliding on his chair to get closer, he reaches over me to check it quickly and shut it off under my curious eyes. When he leans back, leaving a breeze of a too common yet nice male cologne on his path, his attention doesn’t waver from my face as if trying to make it out into something or figure something out of it.

“You were saying?” He mutters, his knee lightly bumping into my thigh. What was I saying? Is it happening again? Is his studio cursed or something? Maybe for someone who wouldn’t know him he’d look cold, almost mean from how uninterested his facial expression is looking. But to me, who’s had my fair share of Yoongi's not-so-wide spectrum of different attitudes, he’s being exceptionally present.

The way his whole attention is silently driven to me, how he actually asks me to speak, and the proximity -my legs pulled tight together so they don’t dare brush against his, squaring them- he doesn’t hint to wanting to pull away from. It feels nice but awfully intimidating. I could spend a whole afternoon annoying the crap out of him, stuck to his backside like a piece of gum to a shoe, if he barely acknowledges me enough to make me feel like we're still making progress in this friendship, we’re getting somewhere. But this I'm not used to, and it feels like it's too much.

“I- I think it's incredible...” His fingers reach behind his head, scratching the hair there, while a locked-lips smile draws itself on his face.

“There's a lot of things left to do. It won't do like that...” He's the genius artist and producer. And I don't know shit about music. So no matter how bad I want to express my adoration for this sample, how bad I want him to not change anything except if it's to add his low, charismatic voice, I decide not to get into it. I've observed him from beginning to almost end of making and editing a piece, a few times, and it's not the first time a very early version seems like the one to me. He wouldn't really listen, though. And that's probably the main reason for him being such a good artist. He's confident, resolute, and incredibly talented.

“Are you still feeling lonely?” I feel better. Him sharing something as meaningful as his music with me sure cured my mood immensely. That being said, the feeling of unsatisfaction and the creeping hopelessness in regards to the future of my dating life, are just hovering in the back of my head, shadowing like a pre-thunder cloud.

It seems like I caught his bad habit of expressing only crumbles of the full extent of my thoughts and emotions. I shrug. Nod, fidget a bit. “What does that mean? What do you need?” The tip of his forefinger is teasing the pink of his bottom lip, smoothing the skin out, while he just ponders me and probably his own questions.

Blushing furiously, I'm quick to stutter, “I don't need anything...” Because I think I know what he's implying. There was no warning but I think I recognize the switch, subtle and so sudden, just like last time. The difference here is that, instead of having me on all fours, unable to see his ominous expression, he is facing me full-on with his demand and his intonation, lower, lazier, more languorous, he's perspiring this odd feeling coming straight from the curious place his mind has taken him. And once again, he's taking me there and while it's tempting, it's also terrifying. Maybe too scary for me to indulge in.

“You don't?” Yoongi's eyebrows raise high. He pouts, tilting his head to the side, eyes diverting away breaking all of the heavy tension streaming between us, “Alright...” And as soon as his burning gaze leaves me, the cold hits me like a harsh winter breeze.

“Actually I do! Sorry, I do.”

There’s a silent agreement passing between us. I’m not sure if it’s him being so loud and opinionated about what he wants that make it so I understand him, as opposed as us just getting each other now, but it feels so pleasing.

Yoongi raises from his chair, sharp eyes glowing like a wolf's gaze in a kid's nightmare. He’s so scary in a way. He’s like the terrifying werewolf with no hidden agenda, bloody quest exposed right in the open, except I want to fall right in between his pointy canines.

Yoongi throws a quick glance to the closed door of his studio before his incisive eyes find me again. He looks so intimidating from up there, I want to ask him to at least take his stupid hat off.

When he grabs my chin in between his fingers, I’m sweating bullets, heart losing it in a feast of tachycardia, wondering how the big wolf is going to eat me up, and why the hell did I think for a second it was a good idea. Yoongi simply kisses me. Simply being the keyword. Softly, he presses his lips against mine, adding enough pressure to turn the butterfly switch on but nothing more just yet.

Parting away to look for something in my eyes, I catch a glimpse of his pink tongue swiping over his lips before they stretch into a pretty smile. Is that what Yoongi needs to smile? Intimacy?

But then he’s grabbing me by the hand, lifting me to my feet, meeting my mouth again more roughly, more insistent, dragging tiny whines from deep within, carving his fingerprints in the flesh of my waist. I’m impossibly close to him, feeling the hard edges of his belt digging into my stomach, and I’m turned a little crazy.

I’m flushed to the tip of my hair. Wavering eyes watery, hardly making out my surroundings. My head is spinning. Maybe I’m too sensitive for this shit. It’s been some time since the last time I’ve been any close to intimate with someone, nevertheless, I’m pretty certain it has more to do with him than with the period of my inactivity. I don’t think anyone has ever made kissing so breathtaking. Those nice but rather plain and awkward kisses from before are put to shame. And who would have thought Mean Yoongi would be the one to do so?

“Is this what you need?” It’s like there’s only greed and eagerness filling me up now. I nod furiously while he cackles and I’d be annoyed if it were not for his cold hands still holding my waist. He leans in, nibbles gently on my bottom lip, “More?”

“Yes please.” He chuckles against my face and gives in to me. It's strange how different yet recognizable he feels. His body, as he crashes me against it by his grip on my ass, feels sturdy, still like a statue. It's so Yoongi. As opposed to his mouth, scorching, wet and sultry.

Where does it even come from? Was he always this way? I know, well know, that Yoongi is made of thousands of layers. More or less hidden, more or less guarded. Yet, I had no idea that he had one like this one. The way his hands knead my ass, my sides, my thighs, the way his mouth cherish mine with so much confidence and natural -when did that antisocial hermit learn to melt with someone else like so? It's like he's taken me in a hazy half-conscious-slumber, I end up waking up from once I'm straddling his lap, on the sofa.

Yoongi looks into my eyes, his even more squinted than usual. “Is this okay?” His fingers, now torrid, are teasing the hem of my shirt, not yet daring wandering under the tissue.

“Yes, touch me.” Something in his eyes clicks. I'm sure he's about to comment on my almost order but for some reasons, probably the same for my dripping panties, decides to ignore it.

It feels so strange. I was there for the whole thing, my sticky panties and flushed skin witnesses of it, yet it feels so sudden when I'm lain there, my tee thrown away, and his hands undoing my pants. It's the cold from the leather couch, shocking my naked back, the view of the ceiling I've never thought about ackowledging, I almost feel like it's too much, too weird and it shouldn't be happening. Because who is Yoongi, who am I, what are we -even though I like to slip and impose my existence into his life, and I'm sure he doesn't mind as he is one to express himself pretty well. If there is one thing that I can admire about his rudeness, it's that it doesn't come from a bad place. It comes from one of love and respect and consideration for his own person, and that's respectable. Therefore I know he would have worded it out if he really wanted me out of his way, strictly in Taehyung's hair and not bleeding on him. I guess we're friends. Sort of. Not the most intimate of friends but close enough to count on each other -if plants need watering. That's pretty big. Isn't it pretty big? Namjoon said so anyway, but it might just be because he is peculiarly serious about his own green friends.

So, as our friendship is just blooming I'd say, it still holds a dear place in my heart and I'm confused as to this whole thing being a good idea or not. Just lying there, in the cold, it feels horrible.

But then he's purring. His eyes are grazing my body, blessing every single inch of it with his attention, pink tongue poking at the side of his half-opened mouth, and he's purring. It's that other very Yoongi thing: a mix between a hum and a moan, coming right through his pretty crimson lips like a big cat's purr. He does it all the time, unconscious of it, and hearing it warms my heart with a blanket of reassurance. I could not say if it's the familiarity or his heated gaze, either way, I know I want it. The consequences will have to be dealt with later on.

(“Beautiful.” It's so quiet. Not meant for me to hear but I can make it out from the way his lips wrap around the word.)

Yoongi is not a douche. A little bit, but certainly far from enough to break my heart. Why do I even bother worrying?

I jump off of the couch, my hands joining his on my jeans to get me ridden off the now offensive clothing quicker. He feels the switch. His eyes bore into mine with a glint, eyebrows slightly raised and a smirk showing off his cute turtle teeth. Jumping back on his lap, I kiss his mouth, wanting to catch his pretty smile.

How lucky I am. How wonderful it feels to have this man dive his whole precious attention on me.

“I really want you, Yoongi.” I say because he needs to know, especially when he's lowering his head slightly to avoid meeting my intense eyes directly. I'm sure if Yoongi was one to blush, his soft cheeks would be covered in crimson. He can't handle the compliment, I can tell. Maybe I should make fun of him but I don't want to when I look down at his beautiful hands, white as snow, streaked with large veins, looking so nice on me. Therefore, I don't say anything and he deems it's time to start again.

His thumb falls over my panties, pressing nicely right on my buddle of nerve. I exhale, loudly, as he circles over it. My hands titillate at the hem of his black tee, hoping he'll hint at taking it off. Of course, he doesn't, even makes me forget about it by slipping his whole hand in my panties, his mouth eagerly attaching back to my gaping lips. It feels delectable, my clit sitting perfectly in the pit of his warm palm while his fingers dip in between my wet folds, teasing my entry. And when he finally indulges in it, my craving hole sucks his bony fingers in. I gasp messing up my breathing, he smiles in the kiss, already adding a second finger. It's a tight fit. His fingers are not that large, quite long and angular, but it's been some time and I can't help my walls from clamping around him each time the thought of Min Yoongi having his fingers buried deep in my cunt floats in my messy consciousness.

“Yoongi, I really want you.”

“I know.” He mumbles, lips pressed against the corner of my mouth. He doesn't understand though.

I'm humping on his lap now, helping his fingers fucking me by riding them but the slow, lazy course along my neck hint at something I don't want. He wants to take his time. I'm not up for it though. Taking off his hat without thinking it over, my hands reach to smooth his bleached hair down. He's watching me with big curious eyes while I arrange them on his forehead. Yoongi looks soft again. His white gold locks are falling low under his eyebrows. Hard to be intimidated by this look, so I demand, “I mean now, please.”

Yoongi slips his hand out of my panties -my mouth falls into a pout on reflex, thinking he's going to be mean again-, and grabs his belt to tear it open. Holding me by his free arm wrapped around my back, he raises up enough to free himself from his jeans. I land back, flushed as ever, my heart burning in my chest from how hard and fast it beats. His cock, snow white except for the tip, flushed and shiny with precum, appears to me. The way his hand slides along it, firm and harsh, hints at how hard he is. It feels indecent, this moment, him stroking himself so close to me, a hand on my hip, his eyes deep in mines. “Do you have a condom?” I stutter.

He reaches for the little drawer of the coffee table, catching one and proceeding to put him on. Why would he have condoms in his studio? In the coffee table?

“Aren't you glad I do?” Yoongi asks, a smug smirk painting his face. His pointer slips under the crotch of my panties, dragging to the side to uncover my sex. He gives me a soft kiss. “Sure?”

I have to literally violent myself into not rolling my eyes to the back of my head. I do a bad job apparently, as he groans something I'm pretty sure to be a cuss, lifting me up to have me sink down on him in one go.

I'm glad to see he's as affected as me. He's pressing his lips compressed together, frowned eyebrows peeking out through his fringe. And I wonder what words, maybe insanities, he'd be saying if he wasn't trying so hard to conceal any sound from leaving his mouth. It takes me what feels like an eternity before I feel safe enough to start moving, sliding slowly up and down his shaft. From the way his grip on my hips had getting mordacious, he was not ready to have me slide on him which I kind of love to think about. I'm quite impatient, greedy on the edges. But the stimulation is vivid. Overwhelming. He's not only buried deep in my cunt, but he's also clouding my mind, making my brain lag, burning my heart in a bitter-sweet fire at each wet kisses to my face, each purr in my ear.

“Come on...” He groans, one of his hand befalling hard on my ass cheek. “Fuck me-”

“Yoongi-” I ride him harder, meeting his thrusts, helping him graze that triggering spot, blending my moans with his. He tries to stay quiet, I can tell, but fails miserably. His face is hidden in my hair, his mouth attached to my ear, I can hear the full extent of the erratic breathing and his groans and his purrs. Fisting his sweat-soaked tee, I whine shamelessly, “I'm almost-”

“Come- come for me.” My fingers hardly touch my clit before I'm exploding around him. He lashes our mouths, catching my cry and swallowing it in, before he growls from the back of his throat, teeth accidentally biting hard on my lip. “Shit.”

It takes a little while for us to come down from the high. I can't help but keep languishingly riding, caressing the back of his hair and placing thankful kisses on his cheeks and jaw. His rough hands smooth my skin out, from my shoulders to my thighs, he's so gentle, refusing to slip out of my warmth and my cheeks flush from the thought alone.

“You're not gonna say thanks?”

“Min Yoongi!”

“You look way less miserable than you did earlier.” He comments, observing me slipping my tee back on, crimson abused lips stretching on his turtle grin. “Should say thanks.”

“You sleeping here?” Sleeping here? I can't even imagine the discussion over logistics. Sleeping in his studio? In his bed? On the living room couch? What about the fucking morning? I furiously shake my head no. “Hm. Text me when you get home.” He says as he or another one of the 6 other young men living in the dorm says each time I leave this place relatively late in the evening.

So it should be it. I don't know if I'm disappointed or not. I am waiting for something else, yet without really knowing what I have to admit. As I open the door to leave, waving my hand awkwardly his way, he grabs it, brings me to him to place a sweet peck on my mouth. “Text me.” I wish he'd say more but that's Mean Yoongi. It’s fine because this time I’m sure he means more.

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