#and before anyone says anything im sitting in my living room that has a recording of amituofo playing 24/7 across from a bookshelf shrine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seabass17 · 3 years ago

Text

All that’s left | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

A/n: This is my first time writing something based on a video I found on TikTok, it’s not exactly the same, but it is kinda the idea. I hope you like it and please let me know if you might want a part two. Also, I apologize if you find some errors, im doing my best since English is not my first language. Anyway, happy reading!!

All that’s left masterlist

Pt. 2

Warnings: angst, mentions of injuries (broken ribs, cuts, dislocated shoulder)

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: She still can’t get used to the feeling of being left behind by the people she once called family. After being hurt, she decides that she will give them a chance, and when they failed, she then makes the decision to disappear and start brand new. Of course, she leaves a letter that will left the team standing in the dark, and with more questions than answers about a lot of things, while discovering that she has more of one past that she let to know.

The sound of the rain hitting against the window of my living room was the only thing that could be heard in the silence of my apartment. I looked over my desk where the paper is waiting for me to pick up the pen and get this over with, but somehow, somewhere deep inside of me, a part is waiting, holding on to the smallest of hope that maybe, just maybe, he is going to come knocking to my door asking why the i haven’t showed up to the compound for the last three days, or why i didn’t text nor call the rest of the team. I wanted to see if they would notice my absence so I left the compound on Thursday. I got the answer to my question when Sunday arrived and my inbox was clear; no one noticed. Today is Tuesday, my apartment is thirteen minutes away, fifthteen if you literally fly or speed up, but still, no one came or text.

To be honest, I'm not surprised, that doesn’t mean it hurts less though. I know i should probably think this through instead of making the impulse decision of grabbing my things and get the hell out of here, going somewhere i can start fresh, somewhere i can start over and get a chance to get over all the things that happened, find people that actually cared for me, or maybe not finding anyone at all and die alone.

I stand up from my bed and go to my desk, it’s time to get this over with. I start writing the only thing that they get to keep.

“Dear Avengers, You’re probably wondering where I am, or you just don’t care, maybe you don’t even find this. If someone from the building finds this, keep it in case they ever come looking for me; thank you. So, this is it, this is my goodbye. You should consider yourselves lucky, given the fact that none of you even deserves a goodbye because you are the ones causing it. I could tell you the reason why I'm leaving, and you know what, I will tell you. I chose to trust you. The one thing I feared the most was trusting people, but when I joined the team, I thought ‘well, maybe i can trust them, they are my team’, guess what, I was wrong. You should really look out for your teammates Stark, oh, and by the way, you might want to look deeper into why the operation that saved those 30 civilians on may 20, didn’t go south, you might even discover its the very same reason of why i didn’t showed up in the compound for a week, yeah, they were busy torturing the information out of me for a week; information that, by the way, i didn't give, hence why the operation went great. Something even more funny, is that behind every mistake, every wrong that each one of you have ever done, I’m the one that suffered the consequences. Don’t believe me? Then you might want to do your homework, because dear teammates, I’m the one you couldn’t protect. By the time you find out the things you’ve done, I will be long gone. I'm very good at disappearing, Natasha (once she figures it out) can confirm that. I wish things would be different and we could be… family, but that’s never going to happen; not anymore. As of now, there will be no record of my name ever existing, everything that once belonged to me, will be burned, and as of me, well, I am no one.”

I fold the piece of paper and put it in the envelope, once sealed, I write down the word my name in the center so they know. I take a last look at my apartment. Everything is intact, the furniture that came with it is the same as always, the only thing different is that it seems empty without all my belongings. I grabbed my luggage and exited the apartment and then went downstairs.

“Hey Richard” I say to the man that is in the reception like I always do

“Hey miss, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I'm leaving, for good. If someone comes asking for me, my friends, you tell them that you haven’t seen me. Oh, I left a letter for them upstairs, could you please make sure that it gets to them? Only if the show up, do not sent it”

He looked at me a little sad and confused.

“Oh, well, you will me missed miss, I hope you find happiness and yes, i promised i will make sure they get your letter”

“Thank you Richard, for everything, oh, and this is for you” I handed him an envelope with some cash. He looked like he was about to say something about how he couldn’t accept it but I cut him off. “Please, just take it, please”. He sighs but takes the envelope.

“Thank you miss…”

I smiled at him and then turned around to grab a cab. I'm supposed to be in the airport in 30 minutes. Once in the airport, the only thing left is to start again, be someone brand new.

*3rd person POV*

Friday morning was a little colder than usual in the avengers compound, everyone on the team was up and in the kitchen having breakfast. Everything was normal, until someone noticed that someone was missing.

“Hey guys” Bucky said right before taking a bite of the pancakes Wanda made earlier for everyone. “Have any of you seen y/n?”

The team stayed quiet, realizing that they haven’t seen her for quite a while, not until Barnes brought it up.

“Uh… maybe she took a trip?” Steve broke the silence while the rest started thinking when was the last time they had seen her.

“No, she was here when we arrived from the Jersey mission, it must have been like what, two days, maybe three?” Tony said. Bucky could feel his insides burning and twisting.

“No… that was eight days ago” Vision intervened. The avengers felt like someone just blew up the white house. Her teammate was missing for eight days and no one even noticed. Bucky was the first one to react by getting up and running to her dorm, only to find it exactly the way it was when he last saw her. He searched her dorm looking for something out of place that could tell him that maybe you were in trouble and that he has to come save you, but he is left desperate when he doesn’t find anything.

“She’s not here, everything is intact” He informs once he is back in the kitchen.

“Everyone” Steve calls out, “get dressed, we’re going to look for her. Let’s start in her apartment”

The team leaves to change their clothes and next thing they know, they are in her building. Without saying a word to the receptionist, they all made their way up to her apartment.

“Hey! wait-” he goes unnoticed because the avengers are already on her door. Wanda knocks on the door.

“Y/n? You there?” no one responds. “Y/n come on, don’t be mad at us” Natasha says.

After a few seconds they all start to worry when the door is unlocked, and they worry even more once they see the apartment completely empty.

“What the-” Bucky says

“Where are her things?” Wanda asks to no one especifically

“Where is she?” Thor says

“What the hell is going on?” Tony says a little louder

Bucky storms out of the empty apartment and goes to the man in the reception

“What the hell happened to apartment 108, where is y/n y/l/n?” he asks with worry and anxiety in his voice.

“I’m sorry, but, who are you?” the man asks the rather intimidating group of people in front of him.

“We’re the Avengers man” Peter says and the man suddenly realizes and his face changes from a confused one, to a sad one that makes the team’s stomach drop.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” he sighs, “She left me indicated to give this to you” he hands them an envelope that looks like it's been sitting there for a while. Bucky stares at the envelope like it's some kind of nuclear weapon that if you touch it, it could kill you. Wanda notices, grabs the envelope and stares at the paper in her hands.

“When did she leave this?” She asked

“Three days ago”

“And why didn’t you send it to us?” Tony asked, getting angry at the poor man.

“Because she specifically said to handed it to you, if you ever came looking for her”

Bucky could feel the tears in his eyes start to form.

“She said that? `Ever’?” Bucky asked almost to himself. The man slowly nodded. Natasha could feel how her stomach started burning from the guilt and the pain of not noticing that her friend was missing for eight days, little does she know that the entire team felt exactly the same.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y pull the records on the mission on may 20 and also show me the status of y/n on that time” Tony said to the AI and after a few seconds later, pictures of the building that that was about to be blown out by HYDRA with 30 civilians inside showed up. While the avengers were sitting in the conference room looking at the pictures, the AI started talking.

“Mission of may 20. Information was given that HYDRA kept 30 civilians inside the building with the intention of blowing it up with them inside. Source of the information unknown. The Avengers came to the building and successfully rescued the civilians safely moments before the building was blown up. Agent y/n y/l/n was on an undercover mission on a HYDRA facility at the same time, the communication was lost three days before the civilians situation, and around the same time, the information about the building was given anonymously the very same day that communication with Agent y/l/n was lost; Agent y/l/n returned a week later. Medical record found, access denied”

“Override, Tony Stark” Tony said after a good couple of seconds, the pieces starting to fall in place.

“Access complete. Medical records of Agent y/l/n on may 27th. Access restrained: Agent y/l/n. She presented with several cuts all over her body, three broken ribs, a second grade concussion, a sprained ankle and a dislocated shoulder. Patient refused treatment and was only given medication for the pain”

The seconds were passing and no one in the room would break the silence. The pieces were starting to fall in place, Tony felt nauseous. He yelled at her for being irresponsible for staying a little longer than she should have in the undercover mission, given the fact that she checked in on june 10th, meaning that she waited two weeks for her injuries to heal enough so that he could yell at her for not being good enough. He fell down to his chair, feeling like if he stayed up, he might throw up.

“She was the one that gave us the information about the building” Sam broke the silence. “She was the one that got tortured, and still managed to pass through the data so that we, could be the heroes while she was the one that got beaten up”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, where is she?” Natasha asked the AI, and it responded after a few seconds.

“No information found”

Natasha frowned, Bucky looked up to the screen to see the red sentence. It only made him want to scream more.

“What does ‘no information found’ mean?” Bucky asked on the edge of falling apart.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y” Steve called

“No information available” it said this time.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, look for y/n y/l/n” Tony said, thinking maybe he needed to check what was wrong with the AI.

“No records found for y/n y/l/n”

“Detail,” Stark said.

The AI showed what it said before, there was no record of her name, it was like it never existed. No phone number, no mail address, no nothing, just a little picture of an abandoned building or mansion somewhere in the world.

“Wait” Natasha said, “I know that building, F.R.I.D.A.Y, do a close up on that picture”

“What is it?” Wanda asked

“It was where The Red Room used to operate” tha AI responded

“Why does it appear related to her?” Bucky asked, fearing the answer

“The picture was taken when a girl escaped The Red Room in 2002, she eliminated four people on the way, the age or who it was is still unknown” the AI responded.

“Oh god…” Natasha whispered but Bucky manage it to hear it

“Natasha, what is it?” he asked

“2002, that’s three years after i managed to escape, there was a girl, we were some sort of friends, i promised that i was going to get us out of here, but i couldn’t take her with me so i left her. Two years later I contacted someone on the inside so that I could get to her and plan her escape, but she was angry at me and said that she was fine, a year later she did escape, killing four people on her way” Natasha explained. Everything makes sense now, why she looked familiar, why she had exactly the same skills as Natasha. The team noticed it too, but they assumed it was because she had trained very hard to be an avenger.

“What was her name?” Vision asked.

“Eliza” Natasha said

“Wait a minute…” Bucky said, lifting her head looking at Natasha. “Was that her real name?”

“No, she didn’t wanted to say her real one” Natasha said

“Eliza, that’s y/n’s grandmother’s name” Bucky said and the room fell into a silence where you could hear the wind outside.

“In the letter…” Steve started, “She said that you could confirm that she was good at disappearing completely once you figured it out, so, does this mean that…”

“Y/n is Eliza” Natasha concluded

“She was in The Red Room” Bucky added.

“She said in her letter that all of us did her wrong,” Sam said, “how are we supposed to know what the hell we do to her? She’s been in the team for what, two and a half years? And just now we realized that she was the one that gave us the data that saved 30 people and got her tortured, and that she was trained in The Red Room like Black Widow here. What else are we missing?” he added.

“Guess there’s only one thing we can do” Steve said, looking at Tony.

“And what’s that?” Wanda asked

“We find her”

#avengers #bucky barnes #imagines #marvel #bucky barnes angst #bucky x female reader #the red room #natasha romonova #tony stark #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #peter parker #hydra

238 notes · View notes

wheelsup · 3 years ago

Text

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

<- prev | next ->

Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”

Your head just about exploded when she said that.

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?”

“That his girlfriend died last year.”

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.

“There’s nothing I need from you.”

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea.

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.

“Did you need something?”

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

thank you so much for being on my taglist 💕

if you’d like to join, the link is at the top of my masterlist

@ellesgreenaway @suburban–gothic @mercy-burning @reidspurple @mediocre-writer @honeyboysteezy @andreasworlsboring101 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @reidgifs @you-sunshine @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @altsvu @reidtheprettyboy @goose-eats-god @sonnydoesrandomshit @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @amoeebaa @reidingmelodies @reidyoulikeabook @anaagraceeberr @spencerreid9 @luvofyourlifeliv @averyhotchner @spencerreidat3am @paw71211 @princesssmooshie @gubeskneescrew @gourdboy @reid-me-a-story @reidabookforonce @willowrose99 @singularityjc @spencerreid9 @miahelen @alltooreid @meganskane @multixfandomwriter @coldlilheart @lunajoyce3 @boldlyvoid @destiny-tsukino @ahhahahhh @spencers-dria @cocomoo1 @spenxerslut @thehuntresswolf @ssa-natalya-reid @the-chaotic-cow @kuolonsyoja @queenofthepouges @gublersss @username2002 @msspencerreid @itwouldburnupintheatmosphere @oeuryale @big-galaxy-chaos @reidsacademia @idonotexiste @rem-ariiana @spencerreidscumwhore @spaceapplehead @newgirlinhell @noellestrash @jswessie187 @reidaissance @violetclifford @fruitoftheweek @mystical-and-modern-marauder @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mlqcool @opheli-yeah @lytrc @youabitchhhh @spencerscumrag @dinonuggets1967 @flowerchildprotectiveservices @annalayton19 @mrsobrien888 @toast-on-t0ast @xoxospencerreid @motionlessgirl12 @bloodyxheaven @my-thoughts-are-weird @rexorangecouny @nani-2305 @measure-in-pain @donald4spiderman @mrs-dr-reid @manuosorioh @sapphic-prentiss @reid-me-a-story @reblogsoffanfics @winifrede @peoniarose @takeyourleap-of-faith @morks-watermelon @silverhetdanes @luwheezey @cc13723things @starrylang @b00b133 @kidd3ath @seastarapiaries @sergiosbae @mrsobrien888 @jesuisbenny @cocomoo1 @youabitchhhh @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @silverhetdanes @onlyhereforthefanfics @shesalatesh @amoeebaa @happymangospot @spencersrose @mugi-chwan @reidsadriana @death-becomes-her @nyx2021 @subbyspencereid @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @nomajdetective @cherriesrae @bisexual-virgin @jasminearondottir @gublur @greenrevolutionary @honeyedheartss @gspenc @sweetandsunny @the-chaotic-cow @morganwilliams @futuremrsreid @spencerreidsmommy @meanergreener

series only taglist: @madsgraygubler @manuosorioh @fanfictionfangirl04@donkeykongsmassiveballs @rexorangecouny @iwannabemorethanme@mlqcool @lightning-butterfly

new tags not working: @strawberrycherrykisses @marrymespencerreid @iilwsr @chelsea-the-enchanted @craybae1116

(and just so you don’t think i removed you from the taglist/sign up again without knowing, these tags are. also not working): @pissbit @redevil590 @kaz-2y567 @datsimplol @reid-to-me @rem-ariiana @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @spencerswildestdreams1 @sskylarpaige26 @zbgubler @nyasiablack1899 @faithsamantha @chrisdylan17 @just_arandomwriter @peterisbetterthanpietro @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @chloehanson

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid slow burn #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid enemies to lovers #criminal minds fic #mgg

366 notes · View notes

chocominnie · 3 years ago

Text

One Last Time 02 — Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01

⇢ Word Count :

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots.

A missed call from your uncle.

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb. She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong.

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

“You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’. As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.”

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “ You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears.

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead. A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door. You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

337 notes · View notes

cvtqr · 4 years ago

Text

we only have 15 minutes, sugar

pairings; eren jaeger x reader

content warning; mentions of past jean x reader, oral sex, masturbation, recording, manhandling?

february 19th

you always found eren jaeger attractive, especially tonight at this party. his long hair thrown up into a messy bun, his white shirt with water split on it - making it see through. god you were about to start counting his abs. but who you were really here for? jean. you guys weren’t in a relationship or anything, just friends who liked to help eachother. it started off when you guys would go to eachother for advice or he would find himself in your dorm room ranting to you. just helping eachother with little problems of course. that doesn’t mean sucking his dick was that much of a stretch from it, right?

anyways jean was in a frat house, along side eren. they were throwing a party, and somehow jean convinced you to stop by. you didn’t know if you were regretting it or not. jean was no where to be seen so you just sat yourself on the kitchen counter drinking some punch you found in a bowl. you were admiring eren from a far, remembering all the bad things jean had said about him. how he just annoys the living shit out of him. but god, how attractive he was. you could’ve sworn you looked down at your phone for not even a minute when you heard someone clear their voice right in front of you. you looked up to be met with eren.

“uh hi?”

“hey hey! erm- y/n. we had physics last semester together. eren, eren yeager.”

yeah, i already know your name

“oh hi!”

“my friend reiner over there says he knows ‘ya too. wanna come play truth or dare with us in the backyard hm?”

slipping your phone into the pocket of your shorts, you jumped off the counter, centimeters away from eren.

he let out a low chuckle, placing his hands on the counter, trapping you inbetween the granite and himself. he looked you right in the eye before reaching one of his hands back to grab a chip in the bowl behind where you were sitting. your breathing shakened a bit and you rolled your eyes at him, looking down.

he let out another chuckle before grabbing your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look at him. “no need to roll your eyes sugar. if you were expectin-wanting something else, just say it. i’m not a mind reader baby.” he gave you a little wink before letting you go and backing up.

“i erm- i gotta pee i’ll meet you guys outside.”

he gave you a small head pat before running towards the back door.

right when you turned around to head to the bathroom you crashed right into jean, stumbling back a bit.

“oh hey jean!”

he sent you a blunt hey and started walking to the back door with an annoyed look on his face.

tch, what’s his problem.

your little bathroom excuse wasn’t actually an exuse, the amount of punch you were drinking finally caught up to you. right after you sat down your two best friends since birth, sasha and connie came bursting through the door, hysterically cracking up.

“YOO IM TRYING TO PISS.”

ignoring your comment they both collapsed onto the counter laughing their asses off.

you lightly smacked sasha on the back of her head, since she was the laughing the closest to you. “i swear if one of you idiots don’t tell me what the problem is-”

“YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE OUTSITE FIGHTING OVER YOU-” connie said between laughs practically screaming.

“my who?”

“JEAN AND EREN. I-I ASKED FLOCH WHY THEY WERE FIGHTING AND THEY SAID IT WAS BECAUSE OF YOU AND HOW JEAN IS ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT HOW YOU ARE SO GOOD AT SU-”

“GOD SASHA YOU DONT HAVE TO TELL HER THAT PART”

“CAN YOU GUYS STOP SCREAMING!”

“SORRY, sorry y/n. apparently jean saw you and eren in the kitchen and well, tried beating eren up.”

letting out a sigh you pulled up your pants and ran out of the bathroom.

running outside you found jean knocked out in the arms of marco and eren standing up, wiping some blood out of the corner of his mouth while winking at you. walking right up to him you slapped him right across the face.

he let out a deep, long chuckle.

“i need to talk to you.”

“lead the way sugar.”

you grabbed his arm and pulled him inside while feeling every single pair of eyes on you.

“where’s your room.”

“if you wanted to get me in bed you could’ve just asked baby.”

god can anyone be that full of themselves

“no - no. i don-”

“i’m just joking sugar. follow me.”

he grabbed your hand and led you up into his room, closing the door behind him.

“what the hell was that all about.”

“for the record he started it. he got jealous for no reason and i wasn’t going to let him use me and his rag doll. and you shouldn’t be with someone like jean anyway. you should hear the way he brags about you being his bitch whenever the house is hanging out.” eren plopped down onto his bed

with that you didn’t know who to be mad at this point. he patted his lap signaling you to come over and sit on it. ignoring him you rolled your eyes and sat down next to him, causing him to chuckle again.

“you should clean your wounds that looks pretty deep on your cheek. and take a shower you smell like dirt and grass.”

he got up and headed over to his bathroom door. leaning on the door frame he turned back around.

“only if you stay.”

“hmph, i’ll think about it.”

15 minutes later eren walked out of the bathroom. you were no where to be found. he did know that he’d get back to you one day, considering you left your phone number on a gum wrapper in place of where you were sitting.

february 26

friday strolled around as quick as ever. this week you talked to eren a few times. he texted you on sunday night to have a good week. sicne he was being nice you replied with a “you too:’)”

after that he texted you yesterday afternoon asking if you wanted to come to another party. you never responded, and now it’s friday, 2:05. you just finished all your classes, and you’d be lying if you said you had anything else to do. well except for the pile of homework you usually wait until sunday to do.

sighing you texted him back saying you already had plans and wouldn’t be able to make it. after that you decided to take a short nap. what you thought would be a short nap turned into you sleeping until 6:30. you figured you should get up and get some dinner. you decided to grub hub some taco bell and eat it in the dinning hall. after getting your food you sat down in the corner of the room. it was pretty empty since it was pretty late for dinner.

“ouch, i’m offended.”

you turned around at the familiar voice

“even jean could convince you to come out but i get some lame exuse.”

“it, it wasn’t an exuse. i do have plans.”

“yeah with yourself.” he pulled over a nearby chair and sat next to you.

“i ditched the party, it was pretty boring.”

“so you came to bother me?” you said while still stuffing your face with your food

“yeah pretty much, you wanna hangout?”

“i mean do i really have a choice?”

he leaned over and grabbed one of your nachos, shoving it in his face.

“no not really sugar.”

rolling your eyes you threw out your garbage and led him to your dorm room. since it wasn't that far of a walk, neither of you said anything on the way there. he just simply followed you.

once you got into your room you shut the door behind you.

“if you’re sitting on my bed then shoes off.”

“demanding” he said while slipping his shoes off and plopping onto your bed

“soo..” he said as you sat down next to him.

“wanna watch a movie or something? i see you have a tv in here.”

“sure, let me just fix my blankets so get up.”

he nodded and chuckled, getting up. you pulled down your comforter so there was room to get in, and threw all your blankets into the corner before grabbing your remote and slipping into your bed.

“is this an invitation to come lay with you under your blankets.”

“shut the light.” you said while pressing power on the remote.

the last thing you remember from that night was cracking up with eren over some stupid movie the two of you put on. before you knew it you woke up with a tight grip around your waist. you look over to see eren, still sound asleep. he was so pretty. you figured the two of you just fell asleep while watching movies yesterday. moments like these you were grateful your roommate was on back at home for family issues.

you tried slipping out of his grip before he pulled you back in and groaned. he was still sleeping so you figured you weren't getting up anytime soon, so you closed your eyes and drifted off back to sleep. you woke up about two hours later to find no eren, but a note.

forgot i have to work on a project with floch. i had fun last night, lets do it again soon :)

you were in a good mood the rest of the day.

may 15

its almost been four months since you've met eren. you also cut off your contact with jean. he was a good fuck while it lasted. over the last four months you and eren got closer than ever. hanging out almost everyday, going to parties together, falling asleep cuddling every weekend, you name it. yet again, friday came around. instead of cuddling, you and eren decided to go to a party at some sorority house.

three hours later you were sitting in a circle with a bunch of people you recognized / were friends with. you were all playing a game of truth or dare, cracking up at each other. everyone’s secrets were coming out and people were doing some crazy things. and the list of things we had to do on campus was piling up. for example, connie has to pull a prank on professor ackerman during class on monday. until it was sasha’s time to ask you.

“hmmm. OH Y?N! truth or dare babes!”

you really had to think this one over. sasha had the power of exposing every single one of your secrets if you picked truth, but she's also kind of crazy so who knows what she would dare you to do. after a small debate in your head you went with dare.

“i pick dare.”

“alright! hmmMMM. i dare you to go into an empty room with eren for 15 minutes.”

you felt the heat rush up to your cheeks when you stood up and stretched your arm out for eren to grab.

you both left the living room and headed up to a room while hearing the small, faint giggles from your friends.

entering the room eren shut and locked the door behind the two of you.

“so.. what do you wanna do?”

“hmm. we only have 15 minutes, sugar.”

this is it. the moment you've been waiting for. you had eren right in front of you. just go up and kiss him already!

as you slowly walked up closer to him. he flipped the both of you, pinning you up against the wall.

“let me see if you taste as sweet as I've imagined, sugar. pleaseee you don't even want to know the amount of times I've fisted myself to the mere thought of it.”

you gave him a nod and that was all he needed to pull you off the wall and push you down onto the bed. pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties, he grimly smirked.

“don't you dare cum without my permission.” was all he said before going between your legs and flicking his tongue onto your clit. your breathing quickly became heavy and irregular before he shoved two fingers, palm deep into your cunt.

“ahh~ f-fuck eren-” you blurted out while starting to move under his touch, slightly bucking your hips up.

that was until you felt a strong pair of hands hold your hips down.

“stop moving or i’ll stop.” he hissed out before going back down on you, eating you out more forcefully than before, brining you right to your climax.

“f-fuck eren i need to cum- please let me cum. pleaseee~”

“no.” he said while pulling his fingers out of you.

“the only place you’re cummin’ is on my cock. you hear me?”

you wiped away the slight tears forming in the corners of your eye while nodding.

“that's a good little girl.” eren said while smirking

he swiftly grabbed you and flipped you over onto all fours, while shoving your face into the mattress. your first reaction was to perk your ass up for him.

“well someones eager aren't they.” was all he said before pulling down his pants just enough for his fully hard cock to spring out. he could've came just to the feeling of eating you out.

he leaned down into your ear while whispering, “as sweet as sugar.” he started jacking off while still leaning down, before quickly cumming all over your ass.

did he just?

he pulled up his pants before getting up and heading up towards the door.

“well sugar, looks like our time is almost up. we should get back to the ga-” he was cut off by you running up to him and clinging right onto his shirt. practically crying you were blurting out small no’s.

“f-fuck the game, er - eren please just fuck me.” you were so desperate to the point where you were choking on your words.

“aw, i’m sorry baby i didn't mean to make you cry.” he said while stroking your hair and patting your head. “come suck me off in my car and maybe if you do a good job i'll take ya home and fuck you, yeah?

may 18

sitting in your first class of the morning you were bored out of your mind. getting some lecture from professor ackerman after connie drew all over his desk.

that was until you got a snapchat notification from eren. opening it you were oh so grateful you had your headphones in. it was a video of eren cumming all over his laptop with a video of him shoving his cock oh so deep into your pretty little cunt.

with the caption of missin’ the taste, sugar :’(

you’d be sure to pay him a visit during your lunch break.

#attack on titan #aot #attack on titan fic #attack on titan x reader #aot smut #aot fic #aot x reader #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #eren jaeger #eren yaegar #eren smut #eren x reder #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut

495 notes · View notes

hollyhomburg · 4 years ago

Text

(warning: overly dramatic) part of me wants to write like- a fucking messy story. like messy as in the m/c is involved with all of the boys kind of messy. like- maybe she was jungkook’s childhood love who he lost touch with when he went to become an idol. and then one day she moves to seoul thinking he’s forgotten about her and thinks “better not bother him- he’s famous afterall” and ends up starting her own life without him thinking that their paths will never cross again.

she hooks up with seokjin on accident one night without knowing who he is. it’s against his better judgement but he can’t help the fact that sometimes he gets riled up in the way that only a good fuck can settle. a few days afterwords she realizes who he was and decides against contacting him or answering his text messages. ( though she does respond when he writes “i guess you’ve figured out who i am- and in that case- i have to ask you to agree to this” and she’s not an asshole- so she signs the non-disclosure agreement which she sends back to him without comment).

only a few days later she runs into jimin- or more correctly jimin runs into her getting harassed late at night by a few drunk men. he pretends to be her boyfriend. He’s wearing a mask and a bucket hat and glasses- and despite his height jimin is commanding enough to get them to back off. he ends up walking her home “how do i know you're not trying to walk me home so you can find out where i live?”

“you’re new here right? dont you know how many cameras there are in seoul”

“there aren't any cameras on my street” and so jimin sighs, pulls down his mask and turns to a billboard of his face (this one for vt cosmetics sitting outside a closed olive young). imitating his pose for a second before he can see understanding dawn on her face. “see? you really think im going to do something like that?” it’s not every day he lets himself be seen like this- but he has a feeling that for you it’s worth it. but it doesn't get near the reaction that he wanted.

you curse low, crossing your arms over your chest. “how the fuck is there another one” and though jimin responds with a ‘what?’ you dont answer. you keep walking, kicking a stone hard enough to hit the billboard. and jimin has to admit this is the first time he’s ever felt lacking in front of a woman. it’s electric and he can’t say he’s not drawn in.

he walks you home- does not kiss the strange woman who he just met on the cheek even though you’re looking sleepy and soft and vulnerable. jimin is a gentleman.

it’s not until weeks later that she actually does end up running into jungkook- and she’s shocked to find that their friendship and the pure chemistry they have is still there. they meet up for coffee after coffee and then- she meets the boys, and both seokjin and jimin just try to reign in their over imaginative hearts (and maybe their boners- maybe her and seokjin meet up in some forgotten corner of the company for a repeat meeting- during which seokjin confesses she’s the best fuck he’s ever had).

everyone can feel the tension between you and jimin. and jimin is the first to confess that yeah- they did meet a few weeks back. and you both pretend you’re not blushing when hoseok teases “wahhhhh thats like a drama” jungkook stoic faced besides her. tugging on her earing and whining to leave. he wants her all to himself- not hat he’d ever admit that. and jungkook- jungkook wishes his heart didn't hurt the same way it had 10 years ago- wishes his schoolboy crush could have just stayed that.

what's worse- is that Taehyung and yoongi have taken an immediate romantic interest in her. kind of having more of an adversarial situation where they both keep trying to one up the other. Yoongi takes her out on a boat to watch the sunrise in the middle of the ocean, doesn't care about holding her hand in front of the others. yoongi is so sweet and kind; cooks her dinner when she shows up at his house crying for whatever reason (it was jungkook- it’s always jungkook) and when she’s done he kisses the curry he made off of her lips and hands her a water saying playfully. “if you dont drink enough water you’ll run out of tears.”

“Are you planning to make me cry min yoongi?”

“Only out of happiness hopefully.”

and taehyung takes her to an amusement park in the middle of the night, so that it’s just them and a few people who follow to run the rides for them. he lets her take cute couple photos and always offers up his oversized jackets for her when she gets cold after riding a wet ride. and maybe she catches him staring at her translucent dress. lets him pull her into a corner of the amusement park and fuck her where anyone could hear or see. “are you sure yoongi could fuck you this good? or seokjin for that matter? don’t think i havent noticed the way he looks at you.”

and jungkook- jungkook can’t say anything- because he always puts the others first. and namjoon- oh namjoon and you have an incredibly intellectual relationship. Staying up after you’ve all drank yourselves nearly to sleep, jimin curling up on the carpeted floor near you saying “dont walk home alone- wake me before you go and I’ll walk you.” jimin is always saying things like that to you. and getting all protective whenever one of their backup dancers or any other man at the company shows interest in her.

you and namjoon talk about everything that night- philosophy- love- life- it comes so easy for you to talk with him. and when that night he confesses that he’s never fallen asleep in someone's arms you pat your shoulder and let him lie near you on the wide couch. your hand smoothing up and down his back. and when you wake up in the morning before everyone elce you pretend he hadn’t migrated near you enough that his cheek was up against your chest- and he pretends he doesn't want to record your heart beat and put it into a song so that he can have it to lul him to sleep always. meet up once every few weeks to go on walks together because you both share a love for nature. trips to gardens and parks that feel more like dates than anything.

and hobi- hobi sees it all happening and tries to stay out of it. rationalizes it that there has to be someone to stay impartial and professional. but you end up becoming friends against his better judgement. you do your work in his studio because you like how he’s always playing music even if he’s not working on one of his own songs, and even then you have headphone and jhope watches you sway and bob your head to whatever you’re listening too. very few people have a sense for beat like you both do- and though you can’t dance- he can see the potential in it. he offers to teach you and you agree and of course you end up fucking in the practice room because hoseok just needed to show her how to move her hips right.

only- yoongi hears the noises from the studio and goes to investigate, and he’d love it if he wasn’t hurt but he is. So he ignores her for a little while- because he wants to move on- he’s tired of being hurt by her. and then when she confronts him- somehow everyones there and jungkook misspeaks- says some pretty terrible shit that he immediately regrets and when she runs out of course jimn follows her. “jimin just leave”

“no- not until i know you’re safe” she sighs but then gets angrier when he grabs her hand.

“no- don’t- don’t do that”

“do what?”

“hold my hand unless you have any desire to keep me- to actually love me- then you don’t get to hold my hand” and they walk- jimin grabs her hand and she just sighs- so tired of being pulled 7 different directions. thinks jimin is just interested in sleeping with her- but he’s not- he just wants to love her.

things get even worse when she and yoongi makeup- decide to try and stay friends, and then jungkook confesses to her and turns the whole thing upside down and someone sees her and namjoon out walking, his arm around her shoulders and suddenly dating rumors are floating around everywhere. and fuck- they’re all fighting. jungkook grabbing her arm “she was my friend first”

“yeah but i was the one who was romantically interested in her”

“guess again”

“that doesn't count seokjin hyung- you guys just slept together that's not love” and before any of them have a chance to settle it out she speaks above all of them (maybe picking up a glass and dropping it to get them all to pay attention to her. “maybe if you stoped and wondered what it was that i wanted you all wouldn’t be pricks right now” and then she just- walks out. dodges their calls- ignores every message. until namjoon turns up at her door and asks her to come see them. everyone nervous before jungkook swallows. looking at her with shining eyes, the face of her first love. “we’ve decided, if you’re okay with it, then we think we can share.”

(PSA; this fic idea is not free to use!)

#bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts poly au #bts angst #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #hoseok x reader #bts polyamory #bts fanfiction #bts fic idea

503 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Our song - Harry Styles

this one was inspired by the jingleball performance bc it was pure perfection and UGHH im obsessed.

dedicated to my dear friend @dontworrysunflower

disclaimer: the song Homesick by Dua Lipa is featured in this fic as an original work of Harry and the reader, but it’s obviously an existing song, I just thought that it would be the song they write

pairing: Harry x vocalist!reader

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

You’ve felt the adrenaline rush take over your body many times in your life and they were all different in some kind of way. The one you felt when you were about to write an important test in school, the one that bubbled through your veins when you got your first kiss. The one that rolled through your limbs and chest when you first performed in front of people that weren’t your parents and the one you felt when you got the news that you were chosen to tour with none other than Harry Styles as his vocalist, singing on his stage every other night in a different city and different country.

But none of those were anything like the feeling that takes over every time you stand on that stage, your microphone that’s labelled with your name right in front of you as thousands of people are screaming in the jam-packed arena. Though it’s not you they come to see and listen to, but you are part of the magic and it’s quite enough for you.

You could never be the one standing at the front with all the lights shining down on your frame, having every gaze in the place glued to you, listening to your voice. That brings the kind of anxiety you’re quite sure you wouldn’t be able to handle. You are perfectly fine standing in the back, being the support system while staying on the down-low as someone else shines at the front, in your case, it’s Harry.

You applied for the job with a reason, already having a huge appreciation for him as an artist, adoring his work so far, especially Fine Line. Upon hearing about the opportunity to be part of his tour, you didn’t hesitate to send your application in and following three auditions, you got the phone call that they wanted you on board.

He swept you right off your feet the first time you met him, but you didn’t expect less from him. Everything you heard about him being the most wonderful person to every walk the planet were proven to be nothing but the truth. You hit it off so easily and become close through the process of rehearsals. His odd little jokes, that funny laugh of his and the way he always peeks over his shoulder to meet his eyes with yours made you fall for him faster than you’d have ever thought you could.

Just as fast as your feeling for Harry developed, tour caught up on you and before you could blink twice, you were living on the road, always dressing from your suitcase, waking up in a different city every other morning.

The foreign studio feels a little odd, but still somehow familiar as you walk in with your water and notebook under your arm. Random studio sessions with Harry became a regular not long after tour kicked off. Harry’s creative juices were overflowing and he was aching to record his creations, constantly renting random studios near the hotel you lot were staying currently and one night, when some of you all were hanging out in his suit, he asked if you’d be down helping him record vocals for a song he’s been working on.

“I want to hear it with your voice instead of mine,” he told you leaning against the wall, a glass of whatever Mitch mixed him in his hands.

“Getting bored of your own voice?” you teased him, bringing his dimples out with the smile that plastered across his lips.

“Could say that. Are you up for it?”

There was no way you would have said no. So the next morning you found yourself in a studio somewhere in Sacramento, singing the vocals to a song no one else has heard other than you and Harry.

The tour has now reached Denver, you can’t wait to be on the stage tonight, but before that, you are having another quick session with Harry in the studio.

When you walk in, his head perks up from his leather notebook he always keeps on himself, filled with his scribbled lyrics. A smile stretches across his lips when his green eyes fall on your frame.

“Hey! Hope it’s not too early for you,” he softly says standing up from the chair as you put your stuff down to the small table in the corner.

“No, managed to get a good night sleep still,” you smile at him, taking a quick look around, though this recording room is just like the others you’ve been in.

“I think I figured out that part we struggled with last time. Changed up the ending a bit, would you mind giving it another go?”

You nod looking down at his notes, seeing the changes he has made in the vocals.

“Changed anything else?” you ask as you watch him get ready for the recording.

“Yeah, rewrote a few lines, think they are fitting better now.”

“Have you recorded them yet?”

“Will do now,” he tells you shaking his head.

Soon enough you find yourself standing behind the mic, headset covering your ears as you are waiting for Harry to start recording and the music to play in your ears. Once he shows up his thumb you do the same and a moment later the song you’ve heard last time you two were working starts flowing from the headset and you stare down at the notes in front of you, waiting for the moment when you have to start singing.

It takes you a few runs to nail it down, but when you finally do, you can see the satisfied grin on Harry’s face and you think to yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him like this anytime.

“That was fantastic,” he beams once you join him at the screens where you see your voice appear as a pattern over a straight line. Harry does his usual magic before leaving it be. “Mind assisting recording my part?” he asks turning to you with an excited smile.

Nodding you let him tell you what to do and once he is all set behind the mic, you start the recording and the song. You listen to him in awe. There hasn’t been a moment when you didn’t feel the shiver running down your spine when he started singing. You are convinced a choir of angels is hidden in his throat, because it’s hard to believe he is just as human as everyone else.

He sings the whole song three times before he joins you again, listening back to what you have so far. The song is coming along pretty well and you can tell by the time he finishes it, it’s gonna be perfect. Everything he does is just pure perfection, whether he likes to admit it or not.

“You know how it would be absolutely perfect?” he asks you on your way back to the hotel. The two of you grabbed a coffee as well, so now you’re sipping on the hot drink, enjoying the somewhat sunny weather.

“Hm?”

“I think it would be best if a female voice sang the whole thing and the male was just the vocal.”

“Who do you think would fit best for it then?” you ask, immediately thinking of singers that could be perfect for the song. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry would sell a song to someone else, so you’re not surprised he is thinking about this kind of change.

“Y/N, I found the voice already,” he chuckles and you give him a puzzled look. “You. You are singing the song, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I’m not a solo singer,” you protest.

“There’s no such thing as solo or not solo. You’re a singer and a bloody good one. I want you to sing it.”

“But it would go to waste, because I would never actually perform it.”

“How are you so sure about that?” he smirks slyly at you, immediately making you nervous.

“Harry, I don’t sing solo,” you shake your head stubbornly, but he rolls his eyes at you.

“You could just try it. Let’s just record the song next time with you in the lead and then we can talk about the rest.”

“I’m fine recording, but I will never perform it,” you tell him, but his look makes you think he has other plans.

When tour reaches Dallas, the song gets a version with you singing solo and Harry doing the vocals in it. And though you had doubts about the switch, listening back to it you can tell how much it helped. It really is better with a female voice, though you are still convinced it shouldn’t be you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it to someone? I’m fine with that,” you ask him before the show in Dallas. You’re sitting on the table in his dressing room while he is painting his nails, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“I told you, I like it with your voice. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’m not a—“

“Fuck’s sake if you dare to tell me one more time that you’re not a solo singer, I’m firing you, Y/N!” he snaps, giving you a hard look, but you just laugh at his temper.

“It’s the truth.”

“Have you ever tried to go solo?”

“Not for years,” you admit and watch him screw the nail polish closed, pushing it aside, his hands lying flat on the table as he is carefully waiting for them to dry.

“So then how do you know you are no good at it?”

“Because I hated it back then, so I most likely would hate it now as well,” you state matter-of-factly, but Harry doesn’t seem amused by your answer.

“So you think you haven’t changed a bit in years? I hope you know that’s absolute bollocks.”

“Why are you so keen on making me sing solo?” you sigh, giving him a tired look. It feels like the two of you have been running the same circles since forever. It’s not his first attempt to get you sing more than just the vocals, he once wanted to do a cover and needed a partner because it was a duet and begged you for weeks to sing with him, but you didn’t give in. You just couldn’t.

“Because I think that you are a talented singer and I want you to feel the adrenaline rush performing gives you.”

“I do get that rush every time I sing behind you. That’s enough for me.”

Harry shakes his head pressing his lips tight together.

“That’s not the same as being in the lead. It’s a whole different world.”

“Yeah, one that makes me shit my pants,” you chuckle and he can’t push a smile back.

“Maybe we should just work on it. Your anxiety. I think we could actually make you feel better if we tried.”

“I still don’t know where this obsession with me being solo comes for you.”

Harry stands up, takes one last look at his nails before he steps closer smiling down at you softly and you bite into your bottom lip, realizing how close he is standing to you. His fingers tap in your cheek gently, running them down to your chin as he tilts your head up a bit.

“Just accept it, Love,” he smiles softly before stepping away and carrying on with his routine.

That evening, you stand at the back with the other two vocalists, eyes glued to Harry’s figure at the front of the stage, you watch him pour his soul out to the audience, interact with them and reach that state of mind you have never been able to get into. You know what he told you about performing is true, yet you are still terrified to do it yourself. It’s too nerve wrecking to have everyone look at and listen to you, so many chances to mess it up and make a fool out of yourself.

But when Harry’s eyes meet yours and he shoots you a warm smile, something shifts in you. The urge to have this connection with not just the audience and the song, but with him takes over your whole body and you make up your mind to at least give it a try.

Harry is ecstatic when you tell him later that night that you changed your mind. You see that sparkle in his eyes and it was already worth for you, just seeing him react like that.

“Though I have a few suggestions to change the lyrics.”

“You do?” he asks, seemingly surprised, but mostly amused that you had the balls to come out with it.

“Yeah. Just some tiny details.”

“Why haven’t you told me about these before?”

“Because it was your song. But if you want me to sing it, it has to be mine as well.” Harry stares back at you with a smile that’s filled with pride and joy, making your heart flutter in your aching chest as you think about performing solo.

“Our song,” he softly says nodding his head.

Arriving to Houston the two of you are quick to book a studio and work on the song. Harry lets you make any changes you desire on the lyrics, even says you did justice to it and that you should have spoken up earlier about your ideas. And then you record it.

It’s not that you have to sing the whole song and not just the vocals this time. You are completely fine with Harry hearing you sing, it’s the thought of performing it in front of anyone that’s not him, that’s what makes you turn into a wreck.

You record Harry’s vocals and once it’s all put together, you are blown by the outcome. You wouldn’t have thought Harry’s voice as the vocal would compliment you in the lead, but it’s just absolutely perfect and even you can’t find anything wrong with it.

“Love, this is what Heaven sounds like, I’m telling you,” he smirks at you from the chair beside you, playing the song for the tenth time, not able to get enough of the final product.

“You are so cheesy,” you shake your head, but feel the blush heating up your cheeks. His eyes linger on you a little longer before he turns back to the screen.

When the song is over he finally stops is so silence comes over the studio. Harry turns back to face you, his green eyes basically burning a hole into your head.

“So, when are we going to perform it?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sigh looking down at your hands fumbling with your shirt.

“And I do think it is. So I’m not stopping until you at least try it.”

Harry Styles gets what he wants. Always. And this time, no matter how hard you try to resist him, you just can’t deny this from him. Though it takes him time to talk you up, in Washington he finally gets you to give it a try in an empty stadium.

Most of the crew is out, since the building has been finished about half an hour before, so everything is perfectly set for tonight’s show when you walk out to the stage, following Harry in his heels. He asked the piano to be brought to the front along with a mic on it and another one on a stand next to it. The two of you quietly put on your earpieces, doing everything as if it was a usual occasion before a concert, only that this time the roles will be entirely switched.

“It’s fine, alright? No one is around,” he tells you when he sees how nervous you are to sing the song for the first time outside a studio.

“There are some backstage,” you mumble under your breath, not expecting him to do anything about it.

But he does. You watch him walk backstage, completely dumbfounded about what he is doing. He disappears from your sight and a few moments later you hear him shouting at the back.

“No one comes to the stage until I say so! Yea? Thanks!” he orders and then walks back as if he didn’t just boss around the whole crew.

“They will think you’re some kind of crazy celebrity,” you chuckle when he returns, a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Don’t care, Darling. Now sing you heart out for me.”

Harry sits on the piano bench, his fingers getting settled on the keys before he looks up to meet your anxious eyes.

“It’s alright. Just you and me, yea?”

Nodding you gulp hard and jump a little when he starts playing the melody the two of you have been working on for so long. You hear all the notes and you know you have to start singing, but you miss the opening. Harry stops and looks at you, as you move your eyes down to the ground, ashamed you messed up immediately.

“S-Sorry, I just—“

“How can I help?” he asks right away, not even caring about the fact that you messed up, focused on figuring out a way that would help you.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” you sigh, feeling your nerves getting worse with each passing moment.

“Come sit next to me,” he then tells you motioning for you to join him on the bench.

“What?”

“Take your mic and sit next to me,” he repeats, scooting over to make you space. Hesitantly, you pull the mic out of the stand and walking over you sit next to him. “Now you are not in the center. Just listen to the music, watch my hands on the keys, okay?”

You nod, running your tongue over your dry lips as you hold the mic to your mouth before Harry starts playing again.

After the first few notes you close your eyes and when it’s time for you to start singing, Harry leans a little against you, giving you a kind of push to just do it. And it works.

It feels a little as if it’s not even you who starts singing, but it is. Your voice fills the empty arena along with the piano’s melody and keeping your eyes closed a little longer you let your mind settle. When the first verse ends you open them and watch his hands work on the keys, right as he starts singing the vocals, leaning a little forward so his voice reaches his mic.

It’s different. It’s electric and freeing, hear your voice through the massive speakers, to be in the lead and have Harry be just the support in the song. But it feels so right, better than anything you’ve ever felt.

Line after line, you hit all the notes and by the end of the song you are able to strip all your fears down and give yourself over to the music completely. As you sing the last few notes you feel Harry’s eyes on you and turning to face him, you are met with his warm, pride-filled smile and bright eyes, glued to you while his fingers press down the last notes.

The music dies down, the voice of the piano vibrates in the air a little longer until it completely disappears and the silence returns into the stadium.

“Love,” Harry quietly calls out for you and you turn completely towards him. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper, your eyes never leaving his gaze.

“I know so,” he huffs, smile widening. He brings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as you let out a breath you’ve been holding in for way too long.

He doesn’t try to make you perform that evening, knowing well it was enough for one day, but he does make you sing it with him in each city in the upcoming weeks. Before every concert, he empties out the area around the stage and the two of you sit down at the piano, singing your song until you feel comfortable enough to stand next to the instrument instead of sitting next to him.

The tour reaches New York and Madison Square Garden is getting ready to host Harry Styles for two evenings. The place is massive and you find yourself sitting at the edge of the stage when Harry emerges from backstage.

“Looks wild, right?” he asks sitting next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he gets seated.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

“This place has the most magical vibe.” “Yeah?” Turning to him you watch him take the arena in, his eyes glistening at the sight in front of him. You know it’s not his first time performing here, but it’s nice to see the excitement in his eyes regardless.

That feeling returns to your chest, the one you felt when Harry told you he wanted you to sing the song. The urge to be part of this amazing something that’s so much bigger than you.

“H?”

“Yea?” he turns to you smiling.

“Can I… Do you think we could sing our song tonight?”

You watch the pure surprise and excitement wash over his face, his smile stretching across his face as he stares back at you in awe.

“You want to sing it?”

Shyly, you nod your head and in a heartbeat his arms lock around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. The two of you almost fall off the stage, laughing together at his dramatic reaction.

“Of course we can sing it, Love. Would be an honor!”

Harry is quick to let the band know about the addition for tonight’s set and though everyone seems surprised, they are all supportive about your solo. As the time goes and the concert gets closer, you can feel the nerves building up and soon enough, you start to doubt your choice to sing the song tonight.

Right before it’s time to go on stage Harry takes your hand and pulls you aside, taking your face in his hands gently, making you look into his eyes.

“I know you are doubting yourself, but just know that I’m very proud of you, even if you decide to not sing the last minute.”

“I could do that?” you whisper, your hands finding his sides and you let them rest on him, a way to ground yourself in the windwhirl of your thoughts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t really want. Though I know you will be amazing if you choose to sing.”

Nodding you let a weak smile appear on your lips and you notice as his eyes flicker down to them before he moves his gaze up to your eyes. He then pulls you into a proper hug before walking back to the rest of the band and vocalists.

Everything goes as usual and once again, you can’t take your eyes off Harry on the stage. Just watching him perform fills you up with life, enough to keep you from running away. About halfway into the set, as the crowd is still cheering after the previous song, Harry jogs over to you.

“You ready?” he asks over the noise and before you could think about it, you nod your head.

Two guys from the crew pushes the piano further to the front and they help to set everything up as you awkwardly stand at the side. Once your mic is in the stand you walk over there, heart hammering in your chest, hands shaking like crazy.

“I have a special song for you tonight,” Harry announces into the microphone as he makes his way over to the piano. “Please welcome the lovely Y/N here, who is gonna enchant you with a song we’ve been working on lately.”

The crowd screams and you allow yourself to look around with a weak smile. So many people, you think to yourself, everyone watching you.

“It’s called Homesick, and it means so much to us, so we hope you’ll like it Justas much as we do,” Harry adds before settling on the bench and his eyes find yours. “I’m proud of you,” you see him say, only able to read his lips since the crowd is screaming so loud. “Ready?” he asks and you nod, taking a shaky breath.

He sends you a warm comforting smile before glancing down at the keys and then he starts playing.

youtube

Just like the first time, you close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the melody and nothing else. The lump in your throat is quite uncomfortable, but you open your eyes and see that Harry is looking straight at you, nodding in encouragement, as his fingers push down the keys to the notes right before you have to start.

“Here, where the sky’s falling, I’m covered in blue, I’m running and I’m crawling, fighting for you…”

Harry smiles wide when your voice flows through the speakers, filling the whole place, making everyone go quiet in a heartbeat as the song carries on. You feel your chest slowly deflating, the nerves cooling down with each sung note.

“You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know…”

The chorus comes out perfect, your voice melting together with the piano and you finally feel your muscles relax as you slowly let go of every toxic thought that’s been tainting your mind. Harry leans closer to his microphone and his voice gently joins yours in the next verse.

“There’s a crack in my window, a bird in my room, angels all over that watch over you…”

Chills run down your spine hearing his voice, your eyes never leaving his gaze that’s fixated on your standing figure. You get lost in him and the song, something that came from the both of you, a piece of you and him. Standing there, singing this piece makes you feel closer to him than ever and you desperately want this feeling to last forever, hoping the song never ends though you know it’s gonna happen.

“When I’m walking on water all my dreams have come true. Still nothing means nothing without you…”

Homesick is exactly the feeling that bubbles inside you when you think of Harry. Because there’s this man you love so much, who is a home away from home to you, yet you still feel like you can’t be home entirely. Not in the way you’d want to. But standing on the stage in the spotlight, singing together with him as thousands of people are watching the two of you, yet you still manage to forget about them, for a moment, you feel like you finally arrived home. You are there, with him.

“Tell my heart to lie, but I know deep inside it’s true. That I wish I was there with you. That I wish I was there with you, oh I wish I was there with you.”

He plays the end of the song without tearing his eyes away from you, and there’s just a heartbeat of silence before the crowd starts screaming deafeningly, but that short moment… is yours and his.

Tugging your hair behind your ears with your shaky hands, your eardrums on the verge of breaking as you let out a laugh that was kind of a sob as well, relief washing over your body. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and rushing over he envelopes you in a tight hug.

“I’m so so so proud of you, Love. You were everything!” he mumbles, arms holding you so tight you almost lose your breath, but you want him this close, or even closer. You need to feel him, because it doesn’t feel real. His hold brings you a sense of existence only he can give you.

“Thank you, Harry,” you breathe out when he pulls back to look into your eyes, the screaming hasn’t died down even a tad little.

“No, thank you, Darling. You shined like the star that you are,” he grins, playing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before his arms fall off you.

You’d die to stay in this moment a little longer, but the show must go on. The crew pushes the piano back and soon enough, the next song starts. You stay in your spot for the rest, but you keep catching Harry smiling in your way, always making you blush.

The end of a concert is always a little hectic, everyone is all over the place. Still coming off the high you just experienced, you head to the dressing room you share with the other vocalists. They are going on and on about how amazing Homesick was, and you somehow still can’t believe tonight happened. Packing your stuff you barely notice that the door flies open, but you see Harry appear from the corner of your eye.

“Ladies, would you please give me a moment with Y/N?” he asks and the girls are quick to leave the two of you alone. You stand there, kind of dumbfounded, not sure why he is acting so dramatic. Once the door closes and it’s just you and him, he stares at you, chest heaving, his hair wet from his sweat, but he still looks breathtaking.

“Harry—“

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he cuts you off, your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him, completely frozen. Opposite to what he just said, he remains standing in the same spot and you’re not sure what’s happening. “Can I? Please say yes, I can’t hold myself back for any longer,” he then adds.

“Yes,” you breathe out without even thinking about it. In a heartbeat, Harry crosses the room, chest smashing against yours as he wraps his arms around you, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that almost makes you moan into his mouth.

It’s all a hot mess, teeth clashing, hands all over each other before his palms run down to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. When you do, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him walk over to the table nearby, so he can place you on top, standing between your thighs as he keeps kissing you hungrily, his tongue melting together with yours in this sweet chaos. It keeps going on and on, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, but you are eventually forced to stop, coming short of air. Panting wildly, lips swollen from his kisses, you look at him to meet his gaze.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you on stage.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“Y/N, I’m fucking crazy about you and seeing you come over your stage fright, sing that song… our song, fuck, that did some unbelievable things to me. Please tell me you felt the same thing!” He is begging, not just with his words, but with his eyes as well and it crushes your soul entirely.

“I did. Harry, I always do when I’m with you.”

“Fucking Hell,” he breathes out before kissing you again. “You are… everything, Love,” he mumbles against your lips and you can’t push down the smile stretching across your face, hearing him say the same words he said right after the song.

“You’ve told me that,” you tease him, his gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his famous half-smirk, heart fluttering at the sight of him.

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x vocalist!reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles au

767 notes · View notes

jaesvelvet · 3 years ago

Text

jealousy jealousy — kim junkyu

words: 1.7k words

warning: grammartical errors,idk what i write does it make sense? reader being insecure!

pairing: junkyu+fem reader

notes: i want to publish my jihoon's ff but i haven't finish it yet since my school is starting soon😭 anyway this ff inspired by olvia rodrigo's song, jealousy jealousy (remember you're beautiful just like the way you are!!!🤍)

you couldn't help but grinned as you step into the famous YG building. it feels like a dream come true. you used to be a trainee in a small company for 5 months before decided to left, you realized that you didn't have the talent to be an idol, you're just average on everything, that's all. you gasped when you saw a huge screen in front of the escalator playing blackpink's mv on the screen. YG is that rich exactly like the news said.

"y/n!"

you turn, grinning widely at junkyu, who from the convenience store with some snacks on both of his hands. you waved at him and junkyu laugh in response

"i'm sorry for being late," he said, handing some bread to you

"no it's okay i just got here," you said

you and junkyu are best friends since high school, you're the one who supported junkyu's journey to debut, and junkyu was grateful to have a friend like you, junkyu always convince you to audition at YG but you refused since you now want to focus on your studies. but after junkyu accidentally saw a book full of lyrics song at your desk, he forced you to record one of the songs in his studio and release it on soundcloud so junkyu could promote the song to his fans.

of course, you reject the offer saying you can't sing and you don't want any attention in the university. a medical science student releases a song on a soundcloud, out of the blue, and treasure junkyu promoted her music?? no way!

however junkyu being junkyu, he didn't give up and keep encouraging you to record one of your songs, you didn't need to prepare anything just bring the lyrics and yourself, and the rest, he will work on it. after weeks tried to convince the you, you finally agreed with one term; which is junkyu need to buy you food. a lot of food.

"okay so here it's my studio, um it isn't something to brag about since half of the members have their studio," he said, opening the door of his studio showing his messy studio with a big portrait of treasure on the wall.

"you should clean your studio if you want to impress a girl kyu" you joked, getting a whine from junkyu mumbling that he would never see the world again if he brings a 'girlfriend' over.

junkyu pressed something on his keyboard and bass sound came out, making you flinch, the instrument that junkyu creates is mellow and kinda strident? as soon as you heard the instrument you know which lyrics from your lyrics book would go along and make a perfect song

"i have a perfect song for this" you excited, taking out your black notebook and turn to a back page—clearly the lyrics are fresh from the oven.

"okay i'm gonna play it and you sing the lyrics okay?"

you nodded and sing a little bit of the lyrics

"i kinda wanna throw

my phone across the room

'cause all i see are girls

too good to be true"

"woah! it's perfect" junkyu gasped, amazed at how the instrument he made suits perfectly with your lyrics. you smile, you didn't suprised much since you know how much passion junkyu has in music.

"okay now you eat first, i'm gonna rearrange the lyrics to suit with the melody," he said and get a nod from you. you eat the bread that junkyu bought for you, you also eyeing the studio, it's kinda cold in here cause the space not too big and they put a big ass aircond on top of you.

junkyu notice your quiver, he rolled his eye when you only wearing a thin black shirt material, he scoffs before handing you his pink hoodie that he left in the studio yesterday.

"i won't turn off the aircond so you must wear this hoodie, it's been a week since i wash it," he said in a teasing voice, you frown yet you have no choice to wear the pink treasure hoodie or else, you're gonna die in this cold studio.

you sigh in relief when the hoodie warms your cold body, you side-eyeing junkyu who looks so serious rearrange the lyrics, you then click on the instagram icon, you felt blue as you saw haeri post on your feed— haeri is a popular rich girl in your university, you and her once assigned in a group for an assignment and she is very kind and open about her opinions, she also very serious when it comes to study/work and she is pretty, to your eyes she is like a goddess. she is so pretty, kind, and selfless, and you really lying if you didn't jealous of her. she has a perfect life and you still struggling to get a diploma.

you slowly pressed the screen twice, liking a picture of haeri; wearing a beanie and a mask in a cafe without posing too much, getting 2 thousand likes within 1 hour. you wonder how is it to be like a rich popular pretty girl in university? well, damn sure you will get all of the pretty privileges in your life. you sighed as you realized you're comparing yourself again with haeri. you always remind yourself not to compare yourself to anyone since you're beautiful enough but you can't. the funniest thing is you and haeri didn't even know each other, yet you being so jealous of her life. sometimes you just feel small, you want to be like them.

"y/n!" junkyu shakes your body making you slap his hand

"what!?"

"i called you for like thousand times! you didn't hear me?" junkyu said, stroking his hand that got slapped by you

"oh i'm sorry, im zoning out, you're done rearranging?"

junkyu nodded

"you can listen to the instrument and practice your lyric with it," he said

"okay"

an hour passed, you finally get the tempo, beat, and rhythm right, you grin excitedly as junkyu put the headphones on your head and directing the microphone to you

"you ready?" junkyu asked

"yes i am" with that, junkyu clicked on something and you could hear the instrument, you begin to sing the verse of your song choice.

i kinda wanna throw my phone across the room

'cause all i see are girls too good to be true

with paper-white teeth and perfect bodies

wish i didn't care

you stop singing and look at junkyu curiously making junkyu paused the song and look back at you with a confused look

"why?"

"doesn't singer usually stop singing for producers fix their mistakes?" you asked making junkyu giggle

"yes that's true but you didn't have any mistake, you're doing good, i will pause the music if i have something to fix" he explained, getting an 'oh' from you. you continue singing the song.

i know their beauty's not my lack

but it feels like that weight is on my back

and i can't let it go

com-comparison is killin' me slowly

i think i think too much

'bout kids who don't know me

i'm so sick of myself

i'd rather be, rather be

anyone, anyone else

my jealousy, jealousy started followin' me

started followin' me

as you singing the song that you wrote, junkyu couldn't help but wonder who is the person, you dedicated to? or how you inspired to write this song? this song is obviously about your insecurities about some girl, and you don't even know her! junkyu pout when you felt like this, he knew how insecurities could kill you, back then when he was a trainee he felt insecure with all of the trainees that beat him to debut, he felt he doesn't belong in here but with you and his members on his side, he gained confidence and prove to the world that he is himself and nothing can change that.

all your friends are so cool, you go out every night

in your daddy's nice car, yeah, you're livin' the life

got a pretty face, a pretty boyfriend, too

i wanna be you so bad and i don't even know you

all i see is what u should be

happier, prettier, jealousy, jealousy

all i see is what i should be

i'm losin' it, all i get's jealousy, jealousy

you remove the headphone as soon as the instrument stop playing, you handing the headphone without noticing junkyu's face, chaeyul grabbed the water bottle and drink, her throat felt dry after singing a whole song which you have never done in your life, making you wonder how did singer voice so stable when singing live?

"kyu—oh my god why are you looking at me like that?" you take one step back as you saw junkyu looking at you with frowns on his face, you bit her lips was your singing that terrible?

"sit down here" he ordered, you quickly took a seat beside him without saying anything

junkyu grab your hand and rubs it softly while looking at you with his brown eyes.

"what you see is all fake y/n. she living her best life is what you see what you want, but you didn't see her pain, how hard she must through a day in her life, we didn't know if she struggles behind, you also know you can't compare yourself to others right? you're beautiful" he said

"but, i don't know kyu. i couldn't help but felt all jealous of her, i feel like a total loser" you said

“no y/n, you're not a loser! hear me out, you do great, you beautiful and an amazing person, so why do you need to be insecure to a person you never know? everyone is beautiful on their own, you're an original version of yourself and no one else could be you. you are special and unique, you wouldn't know if someone is jealous of your life, a successful medical student who has a great voice. you need to love yourself more, let yourself shine in your spotlight. trust me popular life wouldn't great as you think" he said

you smile at his words

"thank you kyu, honestly, you're right.i didn't appreciate myself enough this past week, hearing you said that making me feel great about myself, i am me, there's nothing anyone could change about me"

junkyu smile and pat your head

"that's my girl"

#treasure imagines #treasure scenario #treasure yg #treasure junkyu #kim junkyu #junkyu imagines #junkyu scenarios #junkyu fluff #junkyu angst #treaure blurbs

98 notes · View notes

hongism · 4 years ago

Text

under my skin - khj x jwy 18+

pairing; jung wooyoung x kim hongjoong genre; pwp, smut, 18+ wc; 7.2k summary; wooyoung should never have admitted that he liked hongjoong bossing him around, and he most definitely shouldn't have done it so publicly. aka hongjoong knows how to get under his skin and god damn if he doesn't do it fucking well. warnings; explicit smut, fingering, oral sex: m, dirty talk, praise, a lil bit of degradation and humiliation if you squint a/n; hi 😳 so uh this was an impulse writing moment whoopsie but also yeah this is my first mxm work as well as my first mxm smut so yeehaw im going all out on the first one huh :’D as always feedback is appreciated esp since this is something new to me and idek if it did it well 😳

On the list of things Wooyoung knows he definitely should not have done, openly admitting that he is both attracted to Hongjoong and enjoys it when the leader bosses him around on a Christmas live of all things is at the very top.

“He was just sitting on the couch, and I was about to go back to my room then he goes ‘Hey Wooyoung, get my meal ready’. I thought ‘this is the first time someone has treated me like this’. It was — it was attractive.”

Seonghwa’s eyes had flashed with panic the moment the words left Wooyoung’s mouth, clearly picking up on exactly what he meant behind those words. He managed to bite out a strained and awkward laugh that grated against Wooyoung’s ears for far too long. Then, if he hadn’t done enough damage, not even two minutes later was he opening his mouth to spew some further nonsense after staring holes into the side of Hongjoong’s head.

“In that instance, I was attracted to Hongjoong when he treated me badly.”

Except it was not merely that instance. It was – is – far more than that, and the coy smirk that had stretched over Hongjoong’s lips spilled the truth. That Hongjoong knew his power over Wooyoung well before he even admitted it.

That instance had indeed started it all, but Wooyoung does not know how he had spiraled with such haste and intensity. Sometimes, it isn’t even his fault. His body just reacts to something his hyung has said, and he has to force ugly thoughts to the front of his mind or grab the thing closest to him to conceal the raging boner he’s left with. Wooyoung distinctly remembers the first time it became a serious issue though.

It was during a dance practice, another one of those awfully late nights that had everyone on edge, and Wooyoung was already dizzy with exertion before Hongjoong even opened his mouth. Then Yunho and Mingi decided to start fucking around with the choreography and making funny faces at each other in the mirror. Wooyoung knew he was in for it the moment he saw Hongjoong’s normally soft and gentle features flash with a barely contained rage. Then Hongjoong reeled on the pair, eyes flashing a bit of anger as he told both boys off, before shifting back to face Wooyoung now. The younger had choked on his saliva just from the intense eye contact.

“Go reset the music, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks burn with shame to think back on it now because he had most definitely squeaked out the most pathetic “yes sir” known to all mankind and scampered over to the computer to do as told. He had to shove the palm of his hand down so hard against his growing erection that it physically hurt, but it got the job done, and that’s all Wooyoung could have hoped for in the heat of the moment. If anyone noticed his dramatic reaction or thought it to be odd, they decided to spare him the embarrassment and did not mention it.

Then came the practice a few weeks later when Hongjoong was working twice as hard as usual to prepare for awards season. Everything had to be squeaky clean for all the performances. That led to Wooyoung being both blessed and cursed by the sight of a certain Kim Hongjoong in an all too tight-fitting black tee with sleeves rolled up over his shoulders and sweat dripping from his chin to the floor.

Now Hongjoong may not be the most muscular or lean among the group, but god, Wooyoung was positively salivating at even the barest glimpse of tantalizing skin under that shirt. It felt wrong and dirty to thirst after his bandmate – his leader – in such a public way. Hongjoong made things ten times worse by shifting to look Wooyoung in the eyes, brow arched dangerously high and a sharp gleam to his eye that had Wooyoung sweating more than he was before.

“Hey Wooyoung, grab me a water.”

Just simple and straight to the point. Not even a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Wooyoung didn’t need one. He was rushing to follow the order like a good little boy in mere seconds, and the smirk Hongjoong awarded him with nearly made him blackout on the spot. A smart little quirk to one corner of his lips, the other side staying completely still. Hongjoong looked so mean and condescending in that moment, yet Wooyoung ate it right up without even batting a lash. His cock twitched to full attention behind the confines of his grey sweatpants, then he was moving out of the practice room at breakneck speed, desperate to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible.

He had slammed the door behind him and flipped the lock with desperate fingers before stumbling towards the sink to splash his face with cold water. In the reflection of the mirror, he could see how red his face had gotten, the red hue deepened to a scarlet that was only accentuated by the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. Embarrassing. It was so fucking embarrassing to get off to the idea of Hongjoong bossing him around and being mean to him. Wooyoung had hoped that the water would quell him enough to bring him back to the practice room without being weak enough to jerk off in the company bathroom. Those hopes were dashed when the dastardly image of Hongjoong standing across from him with that cruel smirk floated to mind.

Wooyoung slipped his leaking member out and fucked the tight ring he formed with his hand at record-breaking speed, not stopping until he painted his fingers white with hot cum. And if not for thinking to lock the door, he would have been caught in the act too, because not even ten seconds later was someone knocking and banging at the door.

“Wooyoung? You good?”

Thank fuck it had just been San and not Hongjoong himself. If it were Hongjoong, then Wooyoung is certain that he would have caved and told the man exactly what he was doing without any resistance whatsoever.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Just needed to pee! I’ll be out in a minute!”

He thought that that instance would be the worst of it.

Hongjoong proved him sorely wrong.

In fact, if anything, those instances seemed to increase in frequency. Hongjoong would corner him just to deliver a sharply-spoken order then grin as Wooyoung fervently followed the order without complaint or whining. Wooyoung would be forced to dart off to the nearest bathroom and cum into the palm of his hand to curb the raging horniness in his system. And after he was done, he would pull himself out of the bathroom with his head hung low in shame, not ever noticing the way Hongjoong stood not far off with that same smirk as always painting his pretty lips. If Wooyoung ever whispered a breathless “hyung, please” to himself while jerking off, then he would deny it with his dying breath because that would be too close to admitting how desperately he wants Hongjoong.

Such a stark contrast to how he behaves with Seonghwa, as San noted one day. Sure, Seonghwa would ask him to do things but Seonghwa would ask, accentuating his words with a ‘please’ and making sure to thank Wooyoung afterward. And Wooyoung would always whine no matter what Seonghwa would ask of him. The reason being — well, for two reasons actually. One: Seonghwa isn’t Hongjoong, and two: Wooyoung secretly (read very secretly) loves being ordered around like he’s not good for anything else.

The full admission on Vlive must have been the breaking point for both of them though. Hongjoong was trying to hide himself behind his hands as a faux sign of embarrassment, but Wooyoung could clearly see the curling smirk and hungry gleam in his eyes when he saw past those small fingers. It felt almost like Hongjoong could eat him alive on the spot, and Wooyoung would just roll over and let him.

Whatever Wooyoung had expected to happen after that fateful live left him sorely disappointed because Hongjoong did absolutely nothing. Didn’t comment on it, didn’t tease him about it, acted like it didn’t even happen. Even when Seonghwa granted him a sharp slap upside the back of the head and Yeosang muttered something about Wooyoung being into some kinky shit, Hongjoong huffed out a quiet laugh and led the way out of the room.

Was Wooyoung upset? Both yes and no. He saved himself from heaps of humiliation even though he admitted it in such a public manner, but he would be lying if he didn’t say that he was somewhat trying to egg Hongjoong on a little. All these months of teasing and playing only for him to do nothing? This had to be some sort of blue balling, at least that’s what Wooyoung whined into his pillow before Yeosang and Jongho entered the shared room behind him.

“Who’s blue balling who?”

“No one, Yeo! No one! I didn’t say that!”

Wooyoung is tipping closer and closer to his breaking point, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he absolutely snaps. That fact is what finds him hesitating by the back of the couch a few days after the aforementioned Fateful Vlive. Hongjoong sits on the cushions, arm slung casually behind his head as always, and Wooyoung is truly trying his hardest not to drool over the sheer attractiveness the position exudes. It doesn’t help that Hongjoong has been driving Wooyoung up a wall all day with his teasing.

First, it was light touches during breakfast, ghosting fingers over his bare forearm that sent goosebumps all over his body.

“Is something wrong, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong had asked like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“No, no, hyung. Just haven’t fully woken up yet.”

That was a lie but oh well. Wooyoung has lied about worse things in his life.

Then after breakfast, Hongjoong had leveled him with a sharp stare and ordered him to pick up the dishes for Seonghwa. Wooyoung didn’t even have time to jerk off in the bathroom afterward because San and Seonghwa dragged him off to play some game before he could make a hasty escape to the bathroom.

“You called for me, hyung?” Wooyoung manages to ask without a stutter to his tone. It’s a miracle truly because when Hongjoong’s voice boomed through the hallway and found him in the bedroom, Wooyoung almost melted.

“Yeah, get me some coffee from the kitchen.”

Now, if it were Seonghwa asking him, Wooyoung would whine and complain. Say that he’s on the fucking couch which is literal steps away from the kitchen and he has two perfectly (sexy) functioning legs that could easily get him a cup of coffee himself without needing to call Wooyoung all the way from his bedroom to get it for him. It is, in fact, not Seonghwa asking him, however; it is Hongjoong, and Wooyoung will be damned if he doesn’t obey the order without even a breath of complaint.

“Sure, of course, hyung!” He chirps in response to hide the shaky smile on his lips. His legs feel like jello but he puts them to use anyway, carrying his body to the kitchen to prepare a mug of coffee just the way Hongjoong likes because of course, he knows exactly how Hongjoong likes his coffee. Once he has finished perfectly preparing the drink, Wooyoung carries it back to the couch and goes as far as to step around the armrest to deliver the mug directly into Hongjoong’s hands.

“Good boy.”

The words are unmistakable. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung pulled his hand away when he did otherwise he would have most definitely dumped piping hot coffee all over Hongjoong without being able to stop himself.

“H-Huh!?”

Hongjoong blinks up from the rim of the ceramic mug. Not an ounce of shame coats his features. Wooyoung knows that hiding behind that cup is his trademark cruel smirk, and that sends him reeling.

“I said good job. You made it just the way I like.”

Wooyoung needs whatever deity or spirit or entity out there in the universe to backhand slap him to high heaven. Hongjoong did not say good job. He said good boy, loud and clear without so much as a stutter to his tone. Wooyoung stumbles back regardless and excuses himself with a hasty mumble about needing to go to the bathroom. He can only hope that his flustered state of embarrassment mixed with tingling humiliation is not as noticeable as it feels like it is.

“I wasn’t done with you.”

Wooyoung has to bite down on his tongue to keep from whimpering at the tone of Hongjoong’s voice combined with those words. He dares to glance back at Hongjoong over his shoulder. The leader is now on his feet, mug of coffee left forgotten on the table in front of the couch, and Wooyoung can find only a single word to describe the look in the man’s eyes.

Hungry.

“Go to my room. We need to talk in private.”

Wooyoung should experience a surge of panic – any normal person would be petrified to hear those words from their leader – but the words go directly to his dick instead. He whips his head forward once more and makes the short trek to the end of the hall without once looking back to see if Hongjoong is following him. He knows the man is though, the steady shuffle of socks on the wood floor tells him that much. Wooyoung half expects Seonghwa to be inside the room when he enters, ready to defend himself and say he has no clue what’s going on, but his taller hyung is nowhere to be found. Hongjoong doesn’t let Wooyoung stay distracted or confused for long; he trails a daring hand over the expanse of Wooyoung’s shoulders, lifting off at his bicep as he steps past the younger man to get into the room. He then drops to the edge of his mattress with blazing eyes and regards Wooyoung with a full-body stare.

“Shut and lock the door.”

There is so much potential behind those words. All the months of sexual tension and teasing and practical blue balling could all be paid off right now, and Wooyoung is not about to let that opportunity slip through his fingers. He jerks into action, spinning around and slamming the door shut with more force than is necessary, and the lock clicks into place a moment later.

“Hyung—”

“It’s always hyung, isn’t it?” Hongjoong taunts, cutting Wooyoung’s thought short. Frankly, Wooyoung has no clue what he was going to say anyway so thank goodness for Hongjoong interrupting him before he made a bigger fool of himself. Hongjoong pushes himself off the bed to step closer to Wooyoung. He closes the distance between them in a matter of seconds, and Wooyoung is still too slack-jawed to react even a little bit. “With Seonghwa hyung, you are always so whiny and bratty. Can’t do anything he says when he tells you to. Always need to talk back and mock him in return. But with hyung, you are so needy. Pliant. Obedient.”

Hongjoong is not bigger than Wooyoung. Not by much at least. He is hardly taller than him, but Wooyoung has shoulders that are a tad broader, features that are a bit sharper, and a face that is just naturally more stern when all his muscles are relaxed. But in this moment? Wooyoung feels impossibly small. Like Hongjoong is meters taller than him, bigger than him, stronger than him, better than him in all ways. His leader has power and control over him. He’s able to make him do whatever he wants with a simple command, and Wooyoung could combust from the mere thought. It gives him a sick rush, one that makes him want to get on his knees and beg for Hongjoong, but he won’t dare do that unless Hongjoong asks him to.

“What is it you want from hyung, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong catches a finger on the underside of his chin, lifting his head just enough so that he can look the other man in the eye. Wooyoung forgets every word in existence as he meets Hongjoong’s burning gaze. His jaw stutters, he blinks dumbly at the brunette, and nothing comes out of him. Hongjoong twists his finger into two now, squeezing down on either side of Wooyoung’s chin until the impact burns a little. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-You,” Wooyoung breathes out shakily. “I just — I want you.”

“That doesn’t sound quite right, darling.” The words catch Wooyoung a bit off-guard at first, and the use of the small pet name has his gut blossoming with too much warmth to be normal. Hongjoong tugs him closer just to drape his pretty lips over the curve of Wooyoung’s ear. Hot breath sends shivers down his spine, and Wooyoung does his best to keep his knees from buckling when Hongjoong speaks again. “That doesn’t sound like the begging I hear coming from the bathroom so often these days.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks are alight with both embarrassment and shame. Hongjoong heard him. Heard him jerking off quietly in the bathroom after every single time he taunted the younger man. Heard his desperate pleas and wishes that it were his hyung touching him and not the warmth of his own shameful hand. Hongjoong pulls back to look him in the eye again, but this time it feels ten times more intimate and inviting.

“Try again, baby. And this time, tell me a safe word so I know when to stop.”

Oh, Wooyoung is fucked, and he’s fucked in more ways than one, that’s for certain.

“I, uh, red. Yeah, red. Red for stop, green for go,” he rambles while blinking like a madman. Hongjoong huffs out a dry laugh.

“That’s step one,” he says, tone as even and steady as ever. “Now tell me what it is you want from me, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung truly wishes he could put up more of a fight. He wants to complain or whine or be even a little bit of a brat in response rather than just caving without pressure. Yet here stands Hongjoong, maintaining that iron-tight hold over him without the slightest bit of effort and forcing Wooyoung into complete and utter submission with a simple command.

“W-Want hyung to – to kiss me and tell me that I’m his good boy. Want him to stuff my mouth full of cock and fingers until I can’t speak be-because I talk too much. And for him to order me around l-like it’s the only thing I’m good for. T-Talk down to me and – and humiliate me because it feels good when hyung taunts me. I… I r-really want hyung to fuck me open and use me until he’s filled me to the brim with cum.” Hongjoong’s pupils are dangerously large, so blown out with lust and desire that Wooyoung feels himself slipping deeper and deeper into their embrace. Even though the words came from his lips and he spoke them into existence, it feels as though Hongjoong reached down his throat and pulled them out himself. It has to be that because otherwise, Wooyoung would not have the confidence to be so bold about his desires.

“Look at you,” Hongjoong sneers. His tone turns mocking in the blink of an eye, and it causes Wooyoung so much whiplash that his head actually spins even though he hasn’t moved an inch. Hongjoong’s free hand snakes downward, finding the jutted bone of Wooyoung’s hip and brushing over it in a taunting way. The leader caresses the soft band of his underwear, then suddenly Wooyoung is positively choking because the man cups the prominent bulge of his erection and gives a teasing squeeze. “So hard just from following orders? Are you so pathetic and desperate to be a good little boy that you would do this for anyone? Or is it only hyung?”

“J-Just hyung,” Wooyoung squeaks out, pressing his thighs together to alleviate some of the growing pressure in his underwear. That answer isn’t enough to satisfy Hongjoong though, and he tugs a bit harder at the younger’s chin.

“Which one? Last I checked, you had more than one hyung.”

“You! You, hyung. Hongjoong hyung.”

“Good boy,” comes the taunting coo from Hongjoong’s lips. Wooyoung really does whimper this time, lower lip jutting out as he releases the shaky sound, and he practically falls in on himself. He probably would too if Hongjoong weren’t holding him so tightly. “If I had known that would have such a strong effect over you, I would’ve said it much sooner.”

There’s a certain insinuation to his words, one that tells Wooyoung that Hongjoong has been purposefully riling him up for a long while now. Hongjoong drops his chin and lets his hand fall away from the other’s cock. Wooyoung misses the pressure immediately, reaching down to replace the hand with one of his own, but Hongjoong slaps the back of his wrist harshly.

“Don’t you want to be good?”

“Y-Yes, sir!” That little word slips out against his will. Hongjoong’s eyes go wide for half a second before settling back into their steady, hungry stare. When he smiles this time, it is a full and blinding gesture that has Wooyoung’s stomach doing little somersaults. That must be the boiling point for Hongjoong’s desire though; next thing Wooyoung knows, Hongjoong has a hand clasped tight around the back of his neck and the man is yanking him forward until their lips collide in a mess of teeth and saliva. It feels positively filthy, but Wooyoung takes it in stride. He lets a surprised moan slip through, and Hongjoong swallows the sound with his mouth, tongue not wasting any time in dancing over Wooyoung’s lip. The younger grants him access to his waiting mouth. His jaw falls slack and his tongue would probably loll out if Hongjoong were not pressing so fervently against him at the moment.

Wooyoung truly is fully pliant before Hongjoong, and he can’t even get his arms to function enough to wrap around the older. So he just stands there, applying an ample amount of pressure to Hongjoong’s lips when the other isn’t fucking his tongue into his mouth, and waits until Hongjoong pulls back to breathe. As it turns out, he doesn’t get much time to catch his breath because his hyung’s mouth and hands are back on him moments later.

Cold hands brush at the skin near Wooyoung’s hips, slipping under the fabric of his shirt to gain more access. Hongjoong mouths his way down to Wooyoung’s jaw where he nips and sucks gently at the skin. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but something tells Wooyoung that the marking will come later. The older hoists his shirt up, tugging and pulling until it’s over Wooyoung’s head and tossed off to the side. Seonghwa will most likely complain later. Although if this is going the direction Wooyoung thinks it is, Seonghwa will have many other things to complain about so he doesn’t dwell on it much.

Besides, Hongjoong’s hands are far too distracting for that, currently tracing soft patterns over the expanse of Wooyoung’s exposed skin until dipping lower to grab both his sweatpants and underwear in one go. Wooyoung helps him tug the material down and bends a bit at the waist to fully discard the garments. He finally processes how he is now fully nude and Hongjoong has not taken even an ounce of clothing off, and when that sinks in, embarrassment burns at his skin. He withdraws his hands to his body, curling tight around his waist in a desperate attempt to cover himself up. Hongjoong is still attached to his jaw by the lips, but he can feel the movements between their bodies enough to know what is going on.

Fingers latch around Wooyoung’s forearms.

“Sweet angel, you have no need to cover up around me,” Hongjoong murmurs against his skin. His hot breath meeting the cool trail of saliva over Wooyoung’s jaw causes goosebumps to rush over his body, along with the sudden lack of clothes to keep him even a tiny bit warm. “Let me show you how pretty you are.”

Hongjoong pulls off his neck with a wet pop and steps an arm’s width away. He makes a full show out of the way he strips himself. Splayed fingers drag down his sides before catching on the hem of his shirt. Inch by inch, he exposes more supple skin, lean muscles straining and working under the movements, and when he tugs his shirt loose at last, Wooyoung ogles the way the tendons in his neck bulge a bit. He doesn’t get a chance to breathe though because Hongjoong fumbles with the buckle of his belt and tugs the leather loose. He doesn’t toss it off to join their shirts off to the side; rather, he throws it onto the bed, eyes holding something that leaves Wooyoung with the sweet taste of anticipation. Although that might just be the taste of Hongjoong on his tongue because he is still dizzy from the short kiss. He continues to stand as still as a statue as Hongjoong tugs his pants down, thumbs hooked around the band of his underwear too. Slowly but surely, the man exposes himself to Wooyoung, and the younger would be lying if he said his eyes didn’t go straight to Hongjoong’s cock.

It’s a bit shameful to admit, but Wooyoung has spent many times in those frequent bathroom trips fantasizing about what Hongjoong might look like underneath all those clothes. Seeing each other nude is something that happens often; however, Hongjoong always makes a habit of taking showers last or coming home so late that no one can see him. Wooyoung initially thought that it was an, for lack of a better term, insecurity about size deficit but looking at him like this now, Wooyoung can clearly see that that is not the case.

He’s a bit thicker than Wooyoung, not so much longer, but definitely holding more girth and curve to his member. A lump rises in Wooyoung’s throat at the thought of finally having the man in his mouth among other places. He has to clamp his teeth down on his lip to keep from openly drooling over the sight of Hongjoong’s body. The bit of solidarity in being fully nude helps Wooyoung’s confidence quite a bit, but it’s Hongjoong’s next comment that sends him spiraling.

“I wonder how pretty my little Wooyoung would look on his knees for me, hm?” His little Wooyoung. Yeah, Seonghwa is gonna have to cart Wooyoung’s dead body out of this bedroom once this is all said and done, because he is close to a heart attack as it is and Hongjoong has hardly done anything. Hongjoong picks up on the way Wooyoung’s breath hitches at those words and lets that dangerous smirk slip through before turning back to his bed. He moves to it without hesitation, and Wooyoung just watches on without daring to move before he is told to, eyes wide with curiosity as Hongjoong pulls a pillow off the bed and drops it to the floor. In the same motion, Hongjoong props himself on the edge of the mattress and nods his head towards the pillow. Wooyoung’s brain doesn’t process the action quick enough because he stands there with a dumbfounded expression on his face for far too long before it sinks in that oh Hongjoong wants him to kneel between his legs on a pillow.

He moves towards the bed on shaky legs, all but collapsing on the pillow once he reaches it, and Hongjoong greets him by dropping a hand to his hair and carding his fingers through the dark locks there. His hair has grown a bit, just enough to have his bangs fall into his eyes whenever the hair isn’t tucked back. Hongjoong tucks a few of the stray locks behind his ear before reaching lower to cup Wooyoung’s chin in the palm of his hand.

“Do you want another command, baby boy?” Now that has Wooyoung’s gut turning every which way, and he nearly squirms where he sits because goddammit there is not enough pressure on his cock and he is nearing desperation.

“Y-Yes, hyung.”

“Then suck me off, yeah? I bet you’d look so pretty all wrecked and fucked out with a cock between your lips.” Those words are oh so sinful and go directly to Wooyoung’s gut, knocking the air out of him with ease. Hongjoong doesn’t stop there though. He curls his fingers up to press against Wooyoung’s lower lip where he teases and tugs at the skin until it’s swollen. Wooyoung drops his jaw to let those same fingers push down hard against his tongue, and he almost gags at the sensation, but fuck, it’s so worth it. Hongjoong’s fingers are heavy on his tongue, a steady and tantalizing weight that begs what is to come with his member. Wooyoung can’t resist the urge to swirl his tongue between the digits and takes them a bit deeper. He sucks softly at Hongjoong’s skin all while blinking up at the man, his leader, his hyung with wide and shining eyes.

When Wooyoung locks gazes with him, he could cry on the spot because that little half-hearted smirk is back on his lips, and this is exactly what Wooyoung fantasized about in these past weeks. Being leveled only with that stare, forced into submission with mere words — Wooyoung is truly living the dream.

Hongjoong retracts his hand, pulling his fingers loose of Wooyoung’s lips too soon for the latter’s liking, but he doesn’t have room or time to complain. A hand threads through the hair at the back of his neck and drags him forward until Wooyoung is met by Hongjoong’s fully erect member. The unspoken command is there but still Wooyoung waits until he gets the verbal one, so desperate to be told what to do in that condescending tone Hongjoong holds.

“Well, go on. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s cheeks could not possibly flush any darker, but if Hongjoong keeps this up, he might just find a way. The burning sting in the corners of his eyes is practically euphoric, the taste of humiliation on his tongue as he leans forward to give a single, testing lick to the head of Hongjoong’s cock, and Wooyoung is the one to moan when he closes his lips around Hongjoong. The older simply lets his head fall back, hand still tangled in Wooyoung’s hair as he begins to sink deeper on his cock.

Hongjoong tastes of sweat, a stark saltiness on his tongue as he gets about halfway down his member, but Wooyoung’s brain is so high on arousal that he also tastes somewhat sweet. Wooyoung can’t get enough of it. He drags the flat of his tongue over the underside of Hongjoong’s member, feeling for each vein and ridge along his shaft as though trying to memorize the feel. Hongjoong grips Wooyoung’s hair a little tighter. His nails scrape over the younger’s scalp, and a distinctly pleasant burn throbs in that same spot. The idea of Hongjoong’s dainty, painted nails dragging over his skin is too much for his imagination, and Wooyoung reaches a hand up to grasp the base of Hongjoong’s cock before sinking as far down on him as he can go. He chokes around him there, throat pulsing at the sensation of the tip pushing deeper, and Hongjoong releases a loud groan. The sound sends a surge of confidence through Wooyoung along with the knowledge that he drew that noise out of Hongjoong, he made him feel good, he did a good job. He whines weakly around Hongjoong, sucking in as much air through his nose as he can, then he returns to bobbing his head along the length of him.

“Fuck, look at you. Somehow still so noisy even with a cock to keep you busy,” Hongjoong mumbles, biting back another groan. Wooyoung squirms thanks to the words and sneaks a hand down to palm at his weeping cock. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” Hongjoong spats the words with such vehemence that a bit of spit slips from his lip and catches on Wooyoung’s hair. If he didn’t jerk his hand away from his cock, Wooyoung might have cum right then and there because of how damn hot the action is.

Hongjoong tugs hard at the younger’s hair and pulls him off his cock, leaving only a thin strand of saliva to connect Wooyoung to his member. The sight is as intoxicating for Hongjoong as it is for Wooyoung because the older hisses between his teeth then descends to plant a kiss directly over Wooyoung’s lips. He kisses back with a hunger and fervor that begs for more, begs for Hongjoong to do more, and it seems that that is exactly what the elder has in mind because he hoists Wooyoung up enough to trade places with him on the bed.

Wooyoung finds himself splayed out on the bed with Hongjoong looming over him, hair fallen forward to shroud his forehead and eyebrows, and he can safely say that his hyung looks positively menacing in the best way possible. Hongjoong presses a single gentle kiss to the tip of Wooyoung’s nose – an action that has his heart constricting painfully in his chest before Hongjoong drags his lips down the curve of his cheek. He mouths at the sharp edge of the younger’s jaw, letting out a quiet exhale that has Wooyoung shivering. He dares to be bold enough to bring a hand to the older’s hair as Hongjoong reaches the curve of his neck and bites at the skin there.

“F-Fuck, Hong — hyung,” Wooyoung whimpers, hips bucking up to meet nothing but air. Hongjoong presses the heel of his hand down hard against Wooyoung’s hip and keeps him pinned to the bed with that simple touch. The way Wooyoung unravels under him is nothing short of beautiful and mesmerizing, the perfect catastrophe to watch unfold piece by piece until he is writhing and begging with his body for more. The younger doesn’t even see Hongjoong move his arm, but when he sits back, he holds a small bottle of lube in his hand, lid popping open to squirt the clear liquid over two fingers.

“Color?”

“Green,” Wooyoung exhales quickly. “So fucking green, hyung, please just hurry up.” Hongjoong arches a brow then clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You waited weeks for me to corner you like this. I think you can wait a little bit longer.”

“If you recall, I was jerking off in the bathroom begging for you to fuck me senseless every other day, so no. I don’t think I can wait any longer,” Wooyoung huffs out in response, resituating a bit on the bed so Hongjoong can spread him open properly. The other man bends over him with teeth flashing as he grins. He catches Wooyoung’s lobe between those same teeth and nips at the skin until Wooyoung moans loudly.

“Next time you try to do that I’ll be sure to follow you. And maybe make you scream a bit for good measure. You’d do that for hyung, wouldn’t you?” Hongjoong sinfully enunciates the word, and it affects Wooyoung so much that his vision goes spotty for a few seconds.

Fuck, Wooyoung is not going to survive. His heart is gonna give out before he can even get fucked. Hongjoong chuckles under his breath as he gauges the younger’s reaction. His lubed fingers slip between Wooyoung’s legs and trail lower until he brushes over his puckered hole. He starts with just one finger, pushing into Wooyoung so slowly that the younger thinks he’s gonna die of old age by the time Hongjoong finally settles the digit inside him. He squirms a little under the man’s weight.

“I’m not gonna break, hyung. You can go harder than that.”

“And I will. Be patient.” Wooyoung lets his body go slack at the sound of that; it’s a half-hearted command at best but still a command nonetheless, and it continues to have the same dastardly effect over him as always. Hongjoong continues to wiggle his finger around bit by bit until he deems Wooyoung comfortable enough for another, and the next stretch is so pleasant that Wooyoung’s lashes flutter as he pushes a second finger in.

“Hyung,” he whispers, tone so breathless that it almost sounds like just a sigh and nothing else. Hongjoong lifts his chin to look the younger in the eye.

“Hm? What it is my baby wants?” There Hongjoong goes again with that little possessive word that has Wooyoung melting under him.

“Want – want you to kiss me please.”

Hongjoong answers by dropping his lips atop Wooyoung’s, starting out with a barely-there pressure that only grows in force as he starts to fuck his fingers in and out of Wooyoung. The younger can only gasp and moan into the kiss. He forgets what it means to be quiet as the pleasure takes over, too lost in the sensation of Hongjoong’s lips and body and everything. They’ll surely get an earful later, but Wooyoung is not about to let them take this away from him so he is going to be as loud as possible while he can.

A third finger finds its way into Wooyoung. It draws an even louder moan from his lips, the pads of Hongjoong’s fingers brushing just shy of that elusive spot where he wants to be touched so badly.

“P-Please, please fuck me, hyung. I can’t – I can’t wait any longer, I just n-need you in me now.”

Apparently, Wooyoung should have led with that because Hongjoong almost growls and pulls his fingers out of Wooyoung, snatching up the lube again and squirting more onto his palm. He jerks hastily at his cock and warms the liquid on his member before guiding himself to Wooyoung’s eagerly awaiting hole. When Hongjoong at last starts pushing into Wooyoung, the younger sees stars in his vision and his brain empties of all coherent thought. It is everything that he could have dreamed of and better, for fuck’s sake, it’s the best feeling Wooyoung has ever felt in his life and he might cum after just a single thrust of Hongjoong’s hips.

He manages – by sheer miracle for certain – to last a bit longer than that. Hongjoong starts slow, rocking his hips gently against the backs of Wooyoung’s thighs. In time though, the pace grows until it’s hasty and absolutely brutal. Wooyoung can barely catch his breath long enough to moan between thrusts with the speed Hongjoong keeps up. Skin slaps hard against skin and leaves the lewd sound to resonate alongside Wooyoung’s high-pitched moans and Hongjoong’s much softer grunts.

Words continue to tumble from Wooyoung’s lips in the height of his pleasure, but it’s just nonsensical ramblings that range from “more, more, fucking more” to “yes, hyung, there, right there”. He grips desperately at the sheets under his body in a desperate attempt to ground himself from the dizzying amount of euphoria running through his veins. Every nerve in his body is alight with all sorts of sensations, and despite still not having cum once, Wooyoung truly feels like he’s being overstimulated to absolute filth.

He doesn’t even feel it when he actually does reach his high – cock twitching and spurting hot ropes of cum over his stomach completely untouched by either himself or Hongjoong. It’s almost embarrassing how easily Hongjoong made him orgasm; Wooyoung brings his hands up to cover his reddened face in the humiliation of the action. A choked and dry sob rips through his parched throat, cock weeping uselessly against the vee of his abdomen.

“F-Fucking hell, you’re so beautiful,” Hongjoong grunts through his thrusts. Wooyoung’s body reacts on its own, preening at the sound of the praise despite his neverending embarrassment. That sends Hongjoong over the edge right then and there. His hips stutter in their quick thrusts, then he’s pressing flush against Wooyoung and cumming hard in him. His elbows buckle, causing him to topple on top of Wooyoung’s chest and smear the semen painting his stomach and chest. It doesn’t seem to bother the man one bit though as he just lifts his chin and drapes his lips over Wooyoung’s like the softest and warmest blanket on a cold day.

They stay like that for too long probably, just kissing and nipping at each other’s lips in the laziest manner, and Wooyoung doesn’t even mind when the cum between them starts to grow sticky. He releases a content sigh as Hongjoong slips his lips back down to the underside of his jaw – apparently his favorite place to kiss given how much he’s done so already – and dares to speak.

“Good talk, hyung,” he rasps out, throat burning from the mere effort of the words.

“The fact that you had the balls to say something while we were live but not the first hundred times I cornered you,” Hongjoong grumbles against his skin, and Wooyoung huffs out a weak laugh.

“You could’ve interrupted my, erm, bathroom trips at any time.” Wooyoung smiles a bit to himself and draws a hand up to comb through Hongjoong’s sweat-slick hair.

“Next time I will.”

“N-Next time?”

“I can think of many other ways I’d like to have you, and many other things I’d like to do to you. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“Yep! Yes, yeah, you got it, sign me up, I am on board. Don’t even need to convince me,” Wooyoung rambles, cheeks flushing dark again at the insinuation in Hongjoong’s words.

“Good. Now, let’s get cleaned up before Seonghwa gets back.”

“Where’d you send him off to anyways?”

“I just told him we were gonna talk and he disappeared.” Hongjoong shrugs as he pulls his body free of Wooyoung’s and climbs to his feet, albeit on shaky legs. The younger tilts his head to the side with a bit of confusion gracing his features.

“That’s all it took?”

“Well, I told him I would be doing a majority of the talking and it would include my mouth doing positively sinful things to your body, but… we had a change of plans, didn’t we?” Hongjoong glances down at Wooyoung, passing a teasing wink his way, and for the last time (at least Wooyoung hopes it is the last time otherwise he really will pass out) his lips curl into that signature smirk.

“We can make up for it in the shower.”

...

#ateez smut #ateez mxm #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #wooyoung x hongjoong #hongjoong x wooyoung #wooyoung smut #hongjoong smut #wooyoung imagines #hongjoong imagines #wooyoung oneshot #hongjoong oneshot #sweet baby jesus #fic; under my skin

377 notes · View notes

angrylizardjacket · 4 years ago

Text

fit by my side {Machine Gun Kelly}

@bitchylittleredhead said: Okay I hear your MGK x pastel!reader and I raise you MGK x Mother Nature!reader. Hella plants, strong love for animals, heckin soft, v kind, mom friend, sunshine child. (I just really really love soft paired with him, it’s so damn cute) also I love you I hope you are well 🧡

Also This Concept

A/N: 3177 words. Gender Neutral Reader (they/them) ! im worried kells is OOC. also there’s no smut but it does get M rated, but there’s no genitals specified. gets quite sappy at times. also @url-under-construction i hope u like it and i hope its good.

----

When you meet Colson, he’s famous, but he’s not, you know, famous famous. You meet on the set of The Dirt; he’s one of the stars, you’re a production assistant and stand-in when they need it, and you don’t think for a second that he’ll even remember your name when this is all over.

But he does; in rehearsals, you’re the one reading the lines for the characters they haven’t cast yet, and the first time the four main cast members see you, in your floaty, floral top, and your gentle aura, and then to hear you say, with absolute sincerity, ‘your mom’s a cunt’, it has them bursting out laughing. You smile, sweet and kind, and you step gently through the blocking that has the character you’re currently standing in for, stabbing Tommy - Colson - with a pen.

Maybe the juxtaposition of you taking part in this whole production is what intrigues him.

When filming starts, you’re still around, and something about seeing you, amid this performance of debauchery, and yet you’re still sincere and gentle, your choice of attire making you stick out like a sore thumb amid the leather and grime. At first, he tries to play it off, that you look somewhat out of place and it’s eye-catching, but you bring the cast food and water and whatever they need, you go on coffee runs, and take a genuine interest in each of them, and by the time he realises that his mood lifts every time he walks on set and sees you there, he knows he can’t play it off as you catching his eye for completely platonic reasons.

He asks you out the week after Casie leaves from visiting set, having seen you interact with her, entertain her while Colson was in hair, treating her with just as much kindness and respect as you did everyone else on the production. It convinces him that your intentions are true, and he knows that he can’t finish this production without shooting his shot.

By the time the wrap party comes around, you’re calling him your boyfriend, at first tentative, looking to him for confirmation, but then you see the way he beams at how the words sound when you say them, and you grow more confident each time you say it.

It’s met with... confusion.

Really?

It seems no-one saw that coming - if anyone, I would have expected Douglas - you hear, and frown.

“What does that mean?” You ask; a frown is rare to see on your face, but you’re wearing it anyhow, and the woman your speaking to splutters her way around a sentence as she’s trying to backpeddle.

“I just- I mean, well, Kells - Colson - he’s so... Doulgas just seems more... refined? Not that Colson not, you know- you’re just -”

“I’m just what?” You ask, not accusing, more curious than anything else, and the woman’s voice dies in her throat as she looks you over; pale blue jeans and a pastel, patterned button-down that would have looked right at home in the eighties.

“I’m just concerned for you,” she eventually says, laying her hand on yours like she’s trying to do you a favour, “Colson’s intense, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.” You see what she’s trying to say, but her tone is so painfully condescending.

“I’m an adult,” you tell her, tone understanding but firm, “and I appreciate your concern, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

The moment you can get out of the conversation, you find Colson, talking animatedly to one of the makeup artists, and you slot yourself into the space by his side. Automatically, without even stopping the conversation, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and you gratefully take the moment to press your face against him, wrapping your arms around him without saying a word. It’s both strangely intimate and familiar, his thumb rubbing small circles against your side.

As he stops talking, there’s a lull, and you don’t have to look up to know the makeup artist is giving you both a strange look.

“Ignore me,” your voice is muffled against him, using one hand as if to waive off any last bits of hesitation.

“They’re fine,” Colson assured, tapping you on the hip. He’s still oozing casual confidence

You’ve been together for almost half of filming, which isn’t exactly a short amount of time, but usually you try and keep things professional on set, so it’s nice to be able to be close to him in public.

The rest of the cast know, of course, you’ve been out with them on several occasions, and they all have come to adore you just as much as you adore them. Something about hearing Daniel drunkenly assure you that if Colson ever hurts you, that there’d be a line of people ready to slap some sense into him. You try to brush him off, endeared by his drunken affection, but he turns suddenly to the rest of the cast.

“Hey, hey, hey - who’d throw down for Y/N?” He asks; without hesitation, Douglas, Iwan, and Colson raise their hands, eyes wide and alert, as if the offer needed to be acted upon immediately. The show of support has your heart swelling in your chest.

You find yourself fitting into his life back in LA easily; while beginning work as an assistant on a Netflix original series, you call into his house in the Hollywood Hills, delighted to be privy to demos and snippets from his next album.

And you meet his friends, shake their hands and smile and chatter with them. They’re not sure what to make of you at first, no-one really is when you present yourself in conjunction with Colson, but soon they start to see what he sees in you. It’s endearingly genuine and thoughtful and honest and enthusiastic and -

“They’re like sunshine,” it’s Rook’s Instagram live, almost six months into your relationship with Colson, that really cements it to the public. Rook is smoking in Colson’s living room in the middle of the afternoon between recording sessions, and someone asked what your deal was.

“I’m so sick of - and I know Kells is, and Y/N too, not that they’d ever say anything. ‘ve never heard them say a bad word ‘bout anyone, you know,” Rook hits the blunt again, his face scrunching up, “but everyone ‘round here’s so fuckin’ sick of people talkin’ shit ‘bout ‘em. For real, Y/N is sunshine, nicer than all of you motherfuckers put together,” and he laughs, but it’s clear he isn’t entirely joking, “- you know what?” He asked, eyes lighting up and standing abruptly, grabbing the phone.

“Baze, man, you seen Y/N?” He calls, and Baze responds from somewhere off-camera that you’re outside. The comments are going off, but he pays them no mind, heading out to the backyard, only to see you by the back fence, peering over into the trees, on your tip toes, one hand straining over the fence, in shorts and a singlet in sunshine yellow.

Rook calls your name.

You shush him loudly, and then, without looking at him, slowly wave him over.

As he approaches, he can hear the telltale sound of a bird chirping, and as soon as he gets close, he hears you whisper -

“I think they’re bluebirds,” you murmur, and finally look back at him, lowering yourself, surprised to see his phone held aloft. He tells you he’s live streaming, you wave awkwardly, which is when he sees the slice of banana you’re holding, “I’m not sure what they eat; do bluebirds eat banana?” You ask, a little helpless, looking at Rook, and then to his phone.

After a moment, you step aside, and gesture for Rook to take a look over the fence, and sure enough there’s a nest with a single, rather sad looking bluebird with it’s wing bent at a strange angle, calling out pathetically, obscuring a few eggs, just out of arm’s reach. While he’s looking over the fence, also trying to reach them, and also trying to get the phone close enough to see if anyone watching the livestream could identify the bird or offer any suggestion, he hears your footsteps retreating.

“Stay there, I’m going to get Kells,” you call out to him, voice bright, “he’s got long arms!” And Rook bursts out laughing; you weren’t wrong.

While waiting, he sits against the fence and answers a few more questions, until he looks up and sees you, expression concerned, and Colson uncharacteristically fond as he lets you lead him by the hand.

You show him the nest and ask for him to get it, worried the bird was hurt, and he obligingly reaches over the back fence to gently collect the bird nest, trying his best not to jostle the bird. The bird’s wing appeared to be broken, and Rook ends the live when you mention that you’re going to take the bird to the vet.

Already, the fandom is exploding from what had transpired.

People are making suggestions as to what the birds should be named, people are claiming your caring and sweet personality is completely fake, people in the live managed to screenshot Colson’s expression as you’d lead him to the birds, how smitten he was with his hand in yours, and have started posting ‘get u a man who looks at u like kells looks at y/n’ all over twitter and tumblr.

“Bird update!” Several hours later, Colson posts a series of videos to his instagram story, “for those of y’all who don’t know, Y/N found a bird with a broken wing in a tree out the back of my place, we rescued it and it’s eggs, and took it to the vet,” and with that he flips the camera around, from a close up on his face, to show a large, cardboard box in the corner of the room.

Peep Davidson was written in large, black letters on the side of the box.

The rest of the videos are outlining what the vet had told you all, and that the bird should only take about seven days to heal before you could put them all back into the wilderness.

At that, he pauses.

“You worried about putting the birds back when you saw that cat the other day?” And he angles the camera to reveal you, laying with your head in his lap.

“The orange one?” You ask, voice heavy, as if he’d disturbed you when you’d been right about to fall asleep. You yawn, and he confirms, you give a little, lazy shrug and smile, “not sure where that cat is.”

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” Colson laughs, “you gotta stop finding random animals in my backyard.”

“They find me,” you counter, and shift so you can press your face against his belly, humming contentedly as his free hand begins stroking your back.

“Snow White-Cinderella-Pied Piper motherfucker,” how that is somehow the softest, most gentle words to ever leave his lips, is utterly baffling, but there’s so much love and adoration but you turn enough for the camera to catch your delighted little smile, “you’re-” he starts, “who’s that dude from that, that My Hero shit we were watching the other night?”

“Koji Koda, you weeb,” you tease him fondly, knowing exactly who he’s referring to, and that’s where the video ends.

That’s the day it’s confirmed for the rest of the world. There’s countless paparazzi photos, and hints, and speculation, but this is the first time he’d called you anything but your name, and they’d all seen you snuggling up to him, your head in his lap.

This also is the day the trend begins on his Instagram story of a photo of you, usually in his backyard, with whatever animal had decided to befriend you that day.

My partner. My backyard. No fucking idea who’s animal that is.

And he still goes out and gets fucked up, and sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not. When you’re out together, it still doesn’t quite make sense; he’s hard partying and over the top, and it seems like it wouldn’t be your scene at all.

But then there’s photos of Colson and a few of his friends standing on the edge of a roof, announcing that they’re Kings, and you’re by his side, smiling and waving at the person taking the photograph. He manages to get himself injured pulling a stunt at a friend’s house party, but you’re in the back of some influencer’s vlog, straddling his lap with tissues in your hand, him holding you secure as you clean up the scrape on his forehead; it’s kind of sickening how in love he looks, as he watches the way you concentrate. When you notice his expression, your own softens, and you lean in to give him a kiss.

And so you start to make sense, but people still ask why.

So when asked, you tell people that you support each other, and challenge each other, and yeah, that’s absolutely why you’re together, but it’s not the whole reason as to why you make sense.

Because no-one sees the way you hook your finger into his belt loop at the back of his pants at the house party, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he knows exactly what that means. He’s quick to make some flimsy excuse to leave as you step into place by his side, which everyone he’s speaking to immediately sees through. You play at being flustered, tucking your embarrassed expression against him as he slings his arm around your shoulders, and calls an Uber.

The drive back to his place has you both on edge with anticipation, his hands all over you in the back of the car while you try to hold a civil conversation with the driver. It’s killing you not to give in, but you know it’s worth it.

“You’re such an idiot!” You announced, grinning from ear to ear the moment you get into the house, before the door’s even closed, and he slams it shut to press you against it. Kissing him feels like a cathartic release, but after a moment you shove him back, loudly admonishing him for taking part of a stunt that got him hurt.

“You could have been seriously hurt!” You keep poking him in the chest to punctuate your words, and he steps back each time, expression alight, pupils blown wide. He keeps reaching out, as if to touch you, to snag your clothes, like it’s a game when you smack his hand back every time.

“Got a gnarly cut though,” he pointed out, as his ass hits the kitchen island. His legs open, making space for you, and you step into it.

“Gnarly cut,” you murmur, tone surprisingly derisive, and you reach up to push his hair back from his forehead. His head tips back, leaning into your touch, the look on his face almost dreamy even as you’ve got a hand on his hips, pushing him back on the counter.

Then you’re in his lap on the counter, hand fisted in his hair, lips on his neck, leaving bruises and bite marks. He’s trying to get you naked, efficient and desperate, but the moment he gets your shirt off, you push the fruit bowl behind him onto the floor, and push him back against the granite countertop.

“You were worried about me,” he smirks up at you, admiring you with your hands planted either side of his head.

“Because you don’t worry about your damn self!”

“Ooh, breaking out damn tonight? Must be serious,” he teased, deliberately riling you up; he loved this side of you just as much as the sweetness. Instead of responding, you reach up under his shirt and rake your nails harshly down his chest and stomach, delighting in the way he arched up at the sudden sensation, eyes falling closed.

With one hand still flat against his belly, the other comes up to cup his jaw, gentle at first, before your fingers move to caress his throat, and you press yourself against him.

“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kick your ass,” you whisper, lips inches from his as you press firmer against his throat. He grins, and sighs, the sound content and syrupy and so fucking into it, leaning up, to meet your lips with his, to feel the pressure on his neck just a little more.

And you bite, and you scratch, and you ride him on the kitchen island. The location is new, but the situation isn’t; once he’d discovered the righteous, sexual fury you’d been bottling up, he’d been more than happy to let you unleash it on him. Not to say that he didn’t give as good as he got; there’s been several times he’s had you swearing a blue streak, seeing stars, desperate and blissed out in equal measure.

But then there’s your dominant moments, the mean streak, and the teasing, the sting of your nails and your teeth and the way you push him around, into the mattress, against the wall without hesitation, and that he covets. No-one else is allowed to see you like that. To be tied up or blindfolded or or punished or pushed around, at your mercy, it’s as close to Heaven as he’s ever felt on Earth, because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that your heart is kind, that you’d never really hurt him in a way he wouldn’t like.

You make him feel safe.

And it’s not just the sex, you’re never dismissive of ideas or suggestions, seemingly always ready to help if he ever needs it, rather than judgmental. It makes him want to be there for you too.

He wants to be better for you.

Which is kind of terrifying to consider.

“I love you,” he tells you in the shower, in the afterglow, soft, pausing where he had been washing your back where you couldn’t reach. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he felt like he needed you to hear them.

“Love you too,” you say around a yawn, though the words are as genuine as they’d always been coming from you, and you lean back against him, leaning your head against his cheek in a moment of quiet intimacy. You try to kiss him like this, but turns your face directly into the shower, and end up spluttering and breaking the moment.

Colson chuckles softly, stepping back and pulling you with him, out of the stream of water and into his arms so he could kiss you properly. You’re still giggling as you’re wiping the water from your eyes, looking at him with fond adoration. When you settle your arms around him, you quiet down and bask in the moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours, warm and safe in his embrace, sensing that, in that moment, he felt the exact same way.

#mgk #machine gun kelly #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk imagine #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt cast imagine #rook xx #douglas booth #daniel webber #iwan rheon #the angry lizard writes

418 notes · View notes

dancingwiththeplanets · 4 years ago

Text

An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter two

Boba Fett x fem!reader

chapter 1 / masterlist

Summary: A few days after the incident in the throne room, Boba hovers around you like a shadow worried you’ll leave him. You try to reassure him through small, intimate moments with him that there’s no place you’d rather be.

A/N: Really trying to expand on the idea that a gorgeous palace lays hidden underground/ behind the throne room! Also, I think we can all start calling this Boba’s Palace now, jabba is gone. Sorry for the low quality edit it’s my first one haha

Warnings: dancing!boba, protective!boba, suggestive content, plain old day at the palace, soft!boba, not a lot of content tbh but cute moments and we get to know our OC Mandos Raul and Enzo, I didn’t plan this out, im sorry

Word Count: 4.5k+

---------------------------------

The ballroom, though practically useless in its existence and never actually having served its purpose, has recently become one of your favorite rooms in the palace. Initially, you didn’t know what to do with the space. It’s not like Boba seized at the idea of throwing a ball and inviting a group of strangers into the palace, providing anyone the opportunity to discover the secrets hidden behind the throne room. Let alone risk letting an adversary sneak their way in and stirring up trouble.

Nonetheless, you’ve taken it upon yourself to spruce the place up. It is, after all, one of the grander rooms in the castle, with paintings coating the ceiling and the walls bordered with columns.

It’s actually extremely beautiful, you’ve decided, wiping your forehead against your light-blue sleeve, frowning when it comes back brown from the dust that’s stuck to your face. It seemed like a sensible thing to wear this morning. A loose fitting blue blouse with flowy pants to match, secured in the middle by a slightly darker sash. Your pant legs were tucked into your boots so as not to get in the way. It was one of the more cozy and plain things you owned, though not poor in quality by any standards. The fabric was refined, flowy and soft against your skin. Quite honestly, even in your working clothes, you looked nicer than you felt you deserved to. But far be it for Boba to allow his princess to wander around in anything but the best.

The week you’d moved in was a busy one, filled with surprises and adjustments that were quite honestly overwhelming. You arrived at Boba’s palace with a literal sack over your shoulder, enough to stash your small wardrobe of two garments and a few trinkets of personal value. Tatooine was a simple place, you only owned what you absolutely needed. And you, being a young and simple waitress at the local cantina, could barely make enough to cover your cost of living. You were never awarded the luxury of having needless objects.

The first few days of your arrival, Boba had stuck to your side like glue, making sure you got around okay and had everything you needed. Initially, he’d even had a seperate room made up for you to stay in. It was absolutely beautiful, by far the lightest room in the entire palace, though lacking in a window. It was one of the biggest, not as impressive as his own chambers, but still spacious. He decorated the room with paintings and furniture and accented the space with hues of blue and gold. Unfortunately, the pretty room barely got any good use out of it.

Boba escorted you to your quarters on your first night, cradling your chin and kissing your forehead at the door, bidding you goodnight. He reminded you where you could find something to sleep in, having delighted himself in surprising you with an entirely new wardrobe.

You pulled on a satin, lavender slip, admiring the foreign material for a long while as it weighed so delicately on your form. You took your time readying yourself for bed before crawling in and feeling engulfed by pillows. Once you settled, left alone to your anxious thoughts and feelings, you suddenly felt overwhelmed by the exquisite room embracing you. A flutter of giddiness and exhilaration filled you, your mind and body enraptured by the day's events. You felt absolutely spoiled.

Feeling bold on an entirely unnatural level, you slipped away from the warm, velvety comforter and tiptoed to the door. With a rush of courage, your hand met the handle and you stepped out, bare feet cold against the tile floor. You peeked around before quickly darting down the hall, forever grateful that not a soul was around to see your practically naked form running by, before ascending the stairs that led to Boba’s door.

You lifted your hand, your knuckle knocking gently three times against the rough surface.

You heard Boba shifting on the other side of the door, tugging down on your nightgown that just barely cleared your thighs. The hinges of the door creaked as they turned, opening slowly to reveal a very smug looking Boba in just his underclothes.

He hummed, eyes tracing over your form with a shake of his head. “Wandering the halls looking like that.” He chided, gently grabbing you by the waist and pulling you through the door, “That’ll get you into trouble, little one.”

-----------------------------

You smile as you recall the memory. Suffice to say, you didn’t end up sleeping in your own quarters that night, or any night after that, for that matter. Though Boba’s honorable gesture in providing you with your own space was not lost on you.

Continuing on with your endeavors, you move to stand from your crouch on the ground, simultaneously trying to tighten the blue sash wrapped around your middle. You gasp as you run into a hard surface, exhaling in relief as Boba braces you in front of him.

Mumbling an apology, you watch as his helmeted face looks you up and down, steady hands holding you out from him.

“What?” You ask, a smile making its way to your cheeks.

“Your outfit, it...looks like something I wore as I boy.” He says adoringly, now fondling the blue sash at your hips.

You glance down again at your form, a matching blue blouse and trousers tucked into simple black boots. “I...look like you as a young boy?” You counter, earning a deep chuckle from your lover.

“Well I looked rather plain in it,” He says, “I don’t think I looked half as radiant as you do.”

“So you do like it?” You ask.

“Of course I like it,” He grins, “I bought it.”

You shake your head as you carry on with your tasks, allowing Boba to shadow your movements for a while before leaving you again to carry on with his own agenda.

You spend the next few hours actively scrubbing away at the room, feeling especially motivated to complete it, not like all the other half-finished rooms scattered about the palace, which is partly your fault. But the ballroom felt different, once you dusted away all the grime and filth and replaced the lighting in the ceilings to give the room more life, it really started to come together. Unfortunately, your previously clean clothes and skin were paying the price for the hard work being done, you definitely looked a little worse for wear. Wisps of hair beginning to tickle your cheeks from where they’d fallen loose from your braid.

Currently, you were taking extra care to polish a beautiful mosaic decorating the inside of an archway. Thousands of small, colorful shards lined neatly together to form the image of a bold Tatooine sunset. One of the few grand beauties your home planet was known for. A surprisingly lovely work of art left behind, albeit not properly cared for, by the previous inhabitants of the palace.

You admire the artwork for a while after polishing it to near perfection, letting your bum fall to the floor and legs splay out comfortably in front of you. Your wrists support your upper body, arms holding you up as you lean back onto them, head tilting lazily to one side.

You find yourself distracted from your glossed over gaze by Boba, who seems to have wandered his way in here for the third time today. Enzo tails him a few paces behind, but stops to stand guard idly by the door. You can’t imagine he or Raul feel as though they serve any real purpose wandering these empty halls, probably much preferring when they get to patrol the throne room or secure the perimeter.

Boba approaches you, pausing over your fatigued form and huffing out a laugh when you don’t move to stand, instead opting to gaze up at him with tired, doe eyes. He holds a hand out to you and you groan, placing your palm in his as he hoists you up.

“The room looks lovely.” He says, voice raspy through the modulator as he looks around.

The praise makes you smile. “Come see what I found,” You say, leading him by the hand. You open a large dresser to the right, stuffed full of old vinyls and a polished record player sitting proudly atop. You carefully choose a record, placing it beneath the needle and starting the track, allowing it to play soothingly in the background as you guide him around the rest of the room.

He follows you around, listening to you babble about the lovely art on the ceiling and how nice the light looks coming through the one, boxy window at the top. He watches the childlike sparkle and admiration in your eyes as you point out different things you’ve noticed, the excitement trickling out in your tone.

His mind contemplates how different this life is from the one you used to have. You went from a one room, compact home, just barely big enough for your small bed, to a palace filled with grand staircases, hallways and countless bedrooms, a blissful dream in your eyes. Nevermind the fact that you were still stuck on Tatooine. In fact, you seemed happy to stay, oddly attached to the sandy planet, something Boba found amusing.

A couple trips around the room later, and a few songs having gone by, the two of you now stand in the center of the empty room. Him, groaning in protest, and you, placing his hand on your waist yet again. You’ve spent the last few minutes trying to teach him a basic waltz, something your father had taught you when you were little. A rare memory you shared with him before he...well-

“Boba,” You scold with a giggle, “Try again.” Your request earns you another frustrated grumble from your partner. At some point you were able to coerce him into dancing with you, having pleaded desperately when your favorite classic came on. “C’mon, you nearly had it that time!”

He sighs loudly, tilting his helmet in an exasperated fashion. “Last time,” He says with finality, his finger raised in your direction.

You nod your head, an amused grin spread wide on your face.

He holds tight to your waist and reaches for your other hand, a final effort to humor you.

“And...1, 2, 3...1, 2, 3..” You begin moving again to the music, trying to swallow the snicker working its way up at the image of your armored partner staring at your feet for guidance. Visor following your every move, looking unsure and sloppy and quite honestly graceless.

You jump at the voice of a forgotten presence in the room.

“No! No, no, no, boss.” Enzo finally pipes up, his silent and judgemental self unable to be contained any longer. He moves forward with a swagger in his step as he struts towards you from his previous position against the wall, “You’ve gotta lead her by the waist,” He says pointedly, reaching for you “Observe-”

Boba’s arm shoots out, blocking Enzo by the pauldron, “You touch her, you're a dead man.” He growls, deflecting his attempt to take you by the waist.

You jerk slightly at the interaction, rolling your eyes and waiting for the show of dominance to subside.

Enzo’s hands raise in surrender, bowing away respectfully before returning to his earlier stance, no doubt a grin slapped on beneath his visor.

Boba’s hand returns to your waist with a shake of his head, noting your half-suppressed chuckle, evidently amused by the encounter.

“Alright,” He grunts, “once more.”

You start counting aloud, moving at a pace Boba can keep up with. You step out on the final eight count and slowly twirl back into his arms, your back now braced against his front. He tugs at your hips, holding you closer, “Mm,” He hums in your ear as you sway in your position, “Well I do like this.”

The sound of his accented voice filtering through the modulator sends a shiver down your spine, and you breathe out a light exhale as he releases you a moment later, turning you to face him.

“See,” You sigh, “You can dance.”

He hums in response, turning around to retrieve his weapon.

You move to face your hired gun, again leaning casually against the entryway.

“Do you actually know how to dance, Enzo?” You ask, reflecting on his earlier attempt at an intervention.

“-Wouldn’t matter if he did.” Boba interjects loudly over his shoulder, dismissing any ideas before they transpired.

You hear a light chuckle emitting through Enzo’s modulator, turning back to see his stance remaining motionless aside from the slight jerk in his shoulders.

Boba returns to your side, tapping his forehead against yours in an obvious farewell.

Your head falls heavily to one side as you tenderly hold one of his gloved hands, fingers tracing the rough fabric of his own. “Is that all the time you’ve allotted for me today, my king?” You say, a teasing smile pulling at your lips.

“Duty calls, I’m afraid.” He replies, “But perhaps I’ll come find you in a bit, see what further progress you’ve made.”

You nod, a slight frown tugging on your lips. You hesitate raising the concern suddenly weighing in your mind.

Ever since the incident with Crane occurred, Boba’s been...watchful. It’s not that he wasn’t protective of you before, it’s just that in the past few days he’s been protective of you in an entirely different way. He’s been hovering and checking in on you almost compulsively. Whereas before he seemed to want to keep you away during the busy hours of his day, now he seemed to want you near enough to reach in a moment's notice. Almost as if he’s worried you’ll abandon him when he’s not looking.

You wonder how he can still feel so worried after sharing such a fun and intimate moment with you.

So, you’ve given him some extra leeway, allowing him to hover to his heart's content until he seems secure in knowing that you’re not going anywhere.

That being said, you really didn’t mind Boba’s loitering close by to wherever you happened to be, you only wish you knew he wasn’t doing it because of the events that conspired earlier in the week.

“Boba,” You say lightly, catching his arm as he turns. “You don’t need to keep checking up on me, I’m not...you know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

He pauses at your words, hands stilling in their endeavor to tighten up loosened pieces of clothing and armor. You hope you haven't upset him in calling out his unusual conduct.

He averts his gaze to the side, pausing a moment before turning back to you. “I know.” He says nodding, a slight hint of defeat in his tone.

You hope perhaps some flattery will comfort him, stepping closer and lifting your gaze to meet his own. “My king,” you say in admiration, “You are a very busy man. You have a planet to rule. And an underworld to dominate. There are many things that I know put strain and worry in your mind, but whether or not your partner will still be here when you go looking for her should not be one of them.”

He doesn’t make any movements, and the face of his visor does little to allow you access to his thoughts.

“What I mean to say is,” You continue, “Go rule your empire. Your princess is safely stashed away in the palace you’ve encompassed her in.”

He breathes out a chuckle, and you smile, “I am happier here with you than I ever thought I’d be. I don’t want to be anywhere you won't be too, Boba Fett.” You reiterate your words from your conversation a few days ago. One that both started and ended with the two of you in tears. A rare moment between the two of you indeed. An exceedingly painful incident for him, having showcased the true depth of his love for you in such an unexpected and vulnerable way. And for you, to have seen the strongest and most fearless man you have ever known brought down to his knees, in tears, was absolutely gut-wrenching, especially in knowing that his own insecurities about your love had driven him to feel such fear.

You squeeze his arm and kiss the cheek of his helmet in valediction. His unmoving visor lingering on your face for an extended moment.

Boba’s hand makes its way to the back of your head, pulling you forward slightly before gently meeting you in the middle with his own helmet. Your foreheads pressed together in an intimate and tender kiss.

He pulls away silently, giving you a nod, a gesture you return with a small smile before watching him exit the room, Enzo in tow.

---------------------------------

You make your way to the kitchens, stomach growling unhappily at having been neglected all afternoon.

You pause under the doorway.

“I’ve seen you far too much today,” You sigh, feigning exasperation at the sight of Enzo shifting through the pantry for a meal to take to his room.

He stops his digging, turning to face you standing under the doorway before spinning back around.

“Vod’ika,” He greets, “Soup?” He holds a can up over his shoulder while reaching for a pot below the stove.

“No, thanks.” You say, approaching his station.

You pick up the canister of tomato soup, looking it over. “I doubt this tiny thing is even enough for just you.”

He glances down at the can in your hand. “I’ll do two then.”

You roll your eyes, what is it with these massive Mandalorians and not understanding proper nourishment?

“No, no.” You chide, “At least attempt to incorporate a healthy balance into your diet. Something with protein, maybe? Make a grilled porg-and-cheese melt to go with the soup. You can dip it in the broth, it’s delicious.”

His teal visor meets your face, shifting in uncertainty. “Can you do it?”

You sigh, “Fine.”

You get out the sandwich makings, opting to make one for yourself as well. You smear the bantha butter along four pieces of bread and grill them on a pan, layering sliced porg and cheese slices afterward.

You hear footsteps approaching the kitchen just as you’re pulling the finished sandwiches off the stove.

“Raul!” You greet with a smile, Enzo’s head whips in your direction. “We’re making sandwiches, want one?”

“You never sound that excited to see me.” Enzo declares.

You giggle at the accusation, sliding his sandwich onto a plate and handing it to him.

“Can I make you one, Raul?” You repeat.

He sighs, “No kid, thank you.” He steps forward and pulls Enzo’s plate from his hands, placing it away from him on the counter.

“Aye!” Enzo protests, wanting to transport his hot meal to his room so he could eat.

“We work for her,” Raul says, articulating the ‘we’ with an exaggerated hand gesture between the two of them. “You should be making her sandwich, not the other way around.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” You groan, looking between the pair of Mandalorians.

“Yeah, Raul,” Enzo mocks, a slightly more threatening air to his tone. He retrieves the stolen soup and sandwich, “Don’t be a di’kut.”

Raul’s helmet tilts slightly at Enzo’s words. Not knowing exactly what the word means, but starting to get an unsettling feeling in your stomach, you attempt to intervene, “Guys-”

Just a moment too late.

Raul clamps a hand on Enzo’s arm, jolting him back from trying to pass him. His hand smacks the plate out of Enzo’s hand, the glass shattering before it even reaches the floor, and the soup and sandwich splattering everywhere.

“I made that-” You frown.

Now with two free hands, Enzo grips Raul’s shoulders and shoves him back against the brick ovens, a rough grunt escaping Raul when his helmet meets the open face of a hanging pan.

“Please stop-” You yelp, wincing as Enzo’s fist uppercuts into the weak spot under Raul’s helmet.

For being half a head shorter and not as obviously built as his opponent, the Mandalorian in black and teal armor could sure hold his own.

Raul spits something out in mando’a, his words seething as he grabs onto the cuff of the smaller Mandalorians neck covering and throws him with little exertion to the floor. You hear the crunching of glass beneath Raul’s boots as he growls with a foot on pressing to Enzo’s chest in an effort to force him into submission.

“-I wish you guys wouldn’t always do this.” You sigh, not bothering to shout anymore over the sound of beskar scraping against beskar.

You slide from your seat, taking your sandwich with you as you circle around the room to avoid becoming collateral damage in the red Mandalorian’s show of dominance.

“I have never witnessed two people fight over something so stupid in my life!” You call out behind you, tearing a piece of your sandwich off and popping it into your mouth. Leaving the sound of metal crashing against stone behind you.

---------------------------------

You sigh when you finally reach your room, ascending the steps inside your chambers to reach the bedroom. You’re about to sit down on the bed when you catch sight of your reflection, covered in dust patches and knee stains from when you scrubbed against the floor. You opt to take a quick shower instead, washing out all the grime gathered in your hair and skin.

It takes a couple minutes of harsh scrubbing for the water to stop running off your body brown. You take extra care to wash behind your ears and around your hairline, where dirt likes to plant itself firmly.

You turn the water off when the last few soap suds slide off your hair, wrapping yourself in a warm towel.

Taking a glance out the window, you note that the suns are already setting low on the horizon, and resign yourself to just staying in for the rest of the night.

You pull on a slip dress and wrap yourself in Boba’s robe, inhaling his comforting, musky scent. You reach for your book on the nightstand before lighting a couple of candles around the space, creating a warm and cozy environment.

Satisfied with the aesthetic you set around you, you plop down on your bed and hope to get a few chapters into your novel before Boba gets home. Admittedly getting distracted a couple times by the stunning, shaded view out your window, exposing you to the last few moments of the captivating sunset.

Boba comes home a little over an hour later, the glow in your chambers now reduced to only a few lamps and the candlelight spread about your room, but enough to alert Boba of your presence.

You hear his heavy armored footsteps trudging up towards the bedroom. You turn your head expectantly when he reaches the top. Helmet in hand, he pauses for a moment upon seeing you, admiring the image of your figure wrapped up in his robe and curled up with a book, before stepping forward and greeting you with a kiss.

He pulls back, gaze immediately flickering to the window, probably having noticed it immediately upon entering the room but choosing to greet you before acknowledging it.

You groan internally, knowing what's coming.

“Mesh’la,” He hums, frowning at the open curtains exposing you to the darkness of the Tatooine night. A few dim lights from Mos Eisley shining in the distance. He steps forward to slide the curtains closed, you don’t complain, only having wanted them open for sunset. “What have I told you, little one? It's not safe to have these open.”

“I only just opened them, Boba.” You fib a little, hoping to reassure him.

He nods, unconvinced, before beginning to strip himself of his armor. You observe him unlatch the beskar piece-by-piece, placing the armor neatly in its designated chest.

He groans loudly when he sinks down beside you, arms raising behind his head.

You giggle at his tired show of soreness, eyes still glued to the pages of your book. “Old man,” You mutter.

“Watch it.” He growls lowly. You glance a peek at him, eyes closed heavily against his cheeks.

You ponder your bravery for a moment, sticking your nose back in your book before impulsively whispering, “Relic.” You shriek, bursting into a fit of laughter as he suddenly reaches over and wrestles the book out of your hands, using it to plant a harsh smack on your behind.

“Boba Fett!” You squeal, hands moving to shield your bum as the vibrations from his deep laugh shake the bed.

Still holding the book up in a threatening manner, a childlike gleam in his eyes, he challenges you, “Apologize.”

You consider tossing another remark out, eyes darting to the book in his hand, before deciding against it tonight.

Instead, you hoist yourself up onto your knees, allowing his robe to slowly slide down your form and meet the duvet, revealing the thin slip below. His closed-lip smile increases a little, eyes tracing down your form, book lowering slightly in the space above where he lay.

You crawl forward until your chest hovers above him, noses nearly touching, “My apologies, my king.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips.

He deepens the kiss with a groan, your hand reaching back to grip your novel, which he allows you to slip from his fingers.

You let him attack you lips for another moment before you pull away. Having gotten what you wanted, you shift back to your side of the bed, turning to the page you left off at.

A deep chuckle rumbles out from Boba’s chest. “Alright, little one.” He says, “I'll let you play your game.”

He turns the light out on his side of the bed, pulling the blankets out and over the two of you before moving to embrace your form, leaning close to whisper in your ear, “-this time.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you try to resist the smile tugging at your lips, though you feel his own brushing against your ear in satisfaction.

“Tomorrow,” He says, shifting a little above you, “I’m heading into Mos Eisley with Fennec.

“What for?” You ask, finally marking your page and setting it aside.

“Nothing,” He grumbles, “I need to put on a little show of...authority, for a few people.”

You hum, “No big deal?” You question.

“Just a local inconvenience.” He gripes.

You nod slightly, not requiring any elaboration. You suppose you’ll have to entertain yourself tomorrow. “Well then, maybe I’ll have Raul teach me how to wield a dagger,” You quip, a grin back on your face.

Boba huffs out an amused puff of air, “I’d much prefer you with a blaster.” He says, apparently taking the idea seriously, “You don’t need to be up close to use it.”

“We’ll see then,” You say, standing to turn out the rest of the lights.

A single lit candle from your bedside table casts a warm glow over Boba’s face, eyes closed and head still leaning back against your bed-frame pillow.

“Get back on your side,” You chuckle, nudging him as you crawl back into your space.

“M’fine here.” He mumbles, leaning further over onto your pillow.

You smile, his body encasing yours and his nose presses into your neck.

“I’ll be fine here too you know.” You mutter, referencing the day you’ll be spending without his guard.

“You finally gonna stop worrying about me?” You tease, having received no response.

He shakes his head, snuggling deeper into your neck, “Never.”

---------------------------------

A/N pt.2: So I wrote this and I thought it was great then I read it back a few times and realized literally nothing happened haha im so sorry 😅😅😅

Literally spent too many hours on this not to upload though so I suppose here’s a filler chapter my bad lots of love 🥰

#an angel amongst demons #Boba Fett #boba x reader #boba x you #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din djarin #mando #boba!palace #soft!boba #king!boba #boba fett x reader #boba's palace

175 notes · View notes

butteraway · 4 years ago

Text

when time runs out | iv

⋆ summary: A young girl has fallen deeply ill with an unknown disease in her, so with all her free time spent in an empty hospital room, she spends it online playing video games. That's until she meets her cousins friends, one spiking her interest with his extremely vulgare language.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: none

authors note: I wanna say im so sorry for lying to yall about that extra chapter KJDFFF😭😭 ALSO @chibiiichann I APOLOGIZE FOR SPAMMING YOU WHENEVER I REPLIED TO YOU💀 A DIFFERENT ACC WOULD POP UP BUT THE FIRST CHAPTER WAS AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER EXPLAINING THE OC'S CONDITION JFJDJD

"HAHA! I GOTCHU NOW LOSER!" Y/N smashed the buttons on her controller, basically on the edge of her bed. A grunt was heard through her headphones, then a loud bang with laughing in the background. Y/N felt her stomach turn at the sound of this, feeling a little left out, but smiled nonetheless.

"HOW'D YOU EVEN DO THAT?!! YOU’RE DOING SOME HACKING MY GUY!" Denki yelled through the laughing in the background, hands pulling at his hair. He seriously couldn't believe it!

"I'm not! I just wanted to show Sero I'm way better at this game than you are. And turns out I am!" Y/N let out a loud laugh, falling backwards onto her pillow. After finding out that 'Tape Dispenser' went to her cousin’s school by hearing his voice in the back of Denki's room, she got to learn more about this Sero dude. She already knew this after their last game a few nights ago, but he was so chill. It was still insane for her to find out that her cousin and online friend went to the same hero school. The coincidences in this world. Y/N thought as she grinned.

"It's okay Kaminari, you still lasted a long time! But you did get brutally beat by Y/N at the end though..." Sero said, trying to raise Denki's low spirits, but only succeeded in making him more miserable. Rustling was heard through Y/N's headphones, making it obvious that there was movement happening.

"You don't understand Sero! THIS IS THE ONLY GAME I COULD FULLY BEAT THIS GIRL IN!" Denki shook Sero by the shoulders, quickly doing the action. Cackling was heard through the speakers while the girl wiped a tear from her eye. Sero laughed along, as he was pushed to the ground by Denki. His arms were crossed as he looked away, upset that Y/N managed to finally beat him in every game they played.

"It's okay Denki, not everyone can be as good as me!" Y/N exclaimed, getting up from her bed to start taping specific parts of her room. Kaminari continued to complain about his defeat to Sero, who only chuckled in response. As she finished taping the bottom of the walls, Y/N sat back on her bed, sighing in content.

"So, how are you? I'm doing terribly after being utterly destroyed by you, by the way." Said Kaminari, opening his water bottle and taking large gulps from it. Y/N felt her face light up as she remembered to tell Kaminari of her future activity.

"Bro, you won't believe this! So, basically, they're actually letting me paint my room! All by myself! How fricking cool is that?!" The girl laughed out loud, jumping on her bed in excitement. Kaminari's eyes widen, in surprise and slight fear, sitting up and taking in the new information.

"Wait, really? But isn't that like extremely dangerous? Cuz of the chemicals and what not??" He tried his best to keep his voice leveled, not noticing Sero look at him weirdly. That guy had no idea what was happening.

"Well, they said that they were gonna do something to the paint so it won't hurt me or anything, I don't know what, but-" Y/N was cut off by an extremely confused Sero. "Wait wait wait, hold on. I don't understand what's happening. How can paint harm you? Besides like...eating it. And what do you mean by 'finally getting to paint your room?’ Silence was the only answer he got. Sero gulped in embarrassment, thinking he asked a really personal question.

"Um, it's nothing du-" A loud 'shhhhhhh' was heard from Y/N, who let out a shaky breath. She never really told anyone, it's not like she could either way, being confined in the hospital room for a long time. She pushed a loose strand of her away from her face, preparing herself to tell Sero.

"Well, the reason is because I basically live in a hospital. I can't go outside, or have 'unpurified' air, as the doctors like to say, meaning my interactions with people and the outside world are extremely limited. That means anything that's not cleared of dust and germs, I guess, can be extremely harmful for me? As pathetic as it sounds, it could actually kill me, haha." It was quiet as Sero took in the information, a large wave of emotions crashing on him. A person shouldn't have to be locked in a room for the rest of their life. Especially someone who is such a sweet person like Y/N.

"I-I'm so sorry to hear that Y/N. If you don't mind me asking, how...how long have you been in the hospital?" The young girl answered with a quick 'Two years', and that's when Sero felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Kaminari abruptly got up and headed towards his door.

"I'm gonna get something to eat, you want something dude?" Kaminari's voice was low and trembling. It didn't take a genius to see that the blonde haired boy needed some time alone. "No thanks." Kaminari let out a hum, quickly exiting his room and closing the door shut. Sero heard the loud sniffs that slowly faded away, as he hung his head down.

"Hey, you good Sero? That was probably a lot to take in, sorry." Sero shook his head, letting a sad smile adorn his face. "It's fine, really. I actually feel honored that you're comfortable telling me. Feels like we're getting closer, to be honest." He smiled happily, meaning every word he said. And Y/N knew that. "Ha, we are though!" The air was tense, despite the two teenagers being in different rooms.

Y/N went to clear her throat, but was interrupted when a light knock echoed throughout her room. "Someone there?" Sero asked, noticing her silence and hearing the very faint knocking.

"Yeah, um Sero, I'll call you guys later, my doctor wants to talk." Y/N quickly replied, seeing Receen open the door and walk in with his thin suit on. Sero let out an ok and they hang up. Y/N finally took in how the doctor looked, noticeable eye bags under his blue-grey eyes, from lack of sleep. His dark hair slightly tousled, probably from putting on the protective helmet that came with the suit, and a small smile on his welcoming face. And a large container of paint in his left hand. Her eyes immediately lit up.

"What’s up doc? I see you have something in your hand, can I see it closer?" The small girl asked, getting up and making a grabbing motion with her hands. Receen chuckled, lifting up the paint for Y/N to see. Even if he were to hand her the container, she wouldn't be able to hold. She was just too weak. Said girl let out a high pitch 'OOOO ' in excitement.

"I'm not sure if you wanted more, but we managed to get you your favorite color! This should be enough to paint the room, you can even put a second layer if you want." Receen walked over to where Y/N put all the equipment, opening the container of paint. And with a low grunt from him, the lid was opened. Y/N watched with amazement as the doctor poured the soft looking paint into a tray. She picked up a roller near her, and drowned the roller in paint, the white fluff getting covered in color.

The two began painting, Y/N's hand shaking every now and then. After painting half the room, they sat in silence, resting for a while. Receen seemed to be tense, though Y/N didn't seem to notice since she was too happy to speak. Receen let out a breath, breaking the silence, causing Y/N to look towards him.

"I didn't get to ask you how you were, did I Y/N? How are you?" Said girl let a beaming smile spread on her face, causing Receen to slightly squint his eyes from the intensity of her smile. "Honestly, I haven't felt this happy in a very long time! I actually still can't believe you guys really let me do this! Thank you so much!"

Receen gave her a small smile while rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not a problem, you could’ve asked sooner and gotten this done a long time ago. You've been here for two years, so please don't be afraid of asking for things!" At the mention of her time spent in the hospital, Y/N lowered her head, causing Receen to wince. Well, might as well tell her. The doctor cleared his throat and began to talk.

"Y/N, as you are aware, I, along with many other doctors and scientists, have been working hard for you to be able to go outside again. To see your family, hug them, be a normal kid again." There was a pause and that alone caught Y/N's attention. She looked up at him. "There is a way for you to finally do that, Y/N."

Shock evident on the girl's face, she abruptly stood up and faced the doctor. There was absolutely no way anyone could have found a cure for someone like her. Someone who had an incurable sickness. Someone who was too sick, to even have medicine. He's lying. Y/N narrowed her eyes at the grown man sitting in front of her.

"With all due respect Doctor, I highly doubt that that's possible. Cuz, y'know? I basically have an incurable disease? I mean, like, even if you did manage to find a way for me to leave this place, how do you even know it's gonna work? I don't think you've tried this medicine since no one in recorded hospital documents in the past have had people like that checked in before-"

"How do you even know that?"

"-so how do you truly know it'll work?" Y/N quickly finished, completely ignoring his statement. Receen sighed, scratching his head. "We live in a world where quirks exist. Would you believe me if I told you centuries ago that the human race would evolve to have super powers? It's kind of like that, but not really." Y/N eyed him suspiciously. He's avoiding the question.

Receen looked straight at the girl standing in front of him. He felt slightly intimidated by her piercing gaze. He quickly looked away and got up, towering over Y/N's small frame. Then he smiled. "Y/N, you are a very sweet girl, no doubt about it. I know how much you want to get out of here, and I want to help you. My team has created this almost perfect pill, especially suited for your sickness. I know you're very cautious, just like your mother, but I can only reassure you, that these are your ticket out of here." He pulled out the bottle from his protective suit, shaking it in front of [Y/N].

Her eyes widened as she restrained herself from reaching out and snatching the bottle. Her eyes slightly narrowed as she pulled herself together. Crossing her arms and slightly tilting her upwards, she looked into the doctor's bright eyes. "There's always a catch when it comes to these kinds of things. What's the price if I take these? My lifespan shortens, I only have five hours to go outside, it drugs me or something?"

"I'm hurt you think I would just give you these without setting out the consequences." There was a slight glint in his eyes before it quickly disappeared. Y/N hummed, urging the doctor to continue.

"There are exactly 15 pills in here. And consuming just one of these bad boys right here, would allow you to go outside! Though, time is very important when taking these. You'd have 10 hours before the pills effects wear off. These would dull your hypersensitive senses, but not to a point where you can't feel, smell or do anything. No no, it'd just be like how you were before. You'd feel slightly dizzy and be a little itchy, but besides that, nothing too extreme. It just dulls all your body senses down." Receen gave Y/N a small smile. She looked a little weary, unsure if what he said was true. She looked at the bottle then back to Doctor Receen, fingers twitching every now and then. Breathing in and letting it out slowly, Y/N stared straight into the doctor's eyes.

If I take these, I can finally go out. I can hug mom and dad, I can be around Denki again. I can meet Sero face to face and feel the grass again! I can be... happy again. But if these don't actually work, I'd immediately die on the spot. I'd be able to go outside though. Aah, so much going outside, I can meet new people! I don't wanna spend the rest of my days slowly rotting away in here anyway.

"So Y/N, are you going to take them or let all our time go to waste?"

Sero looked at his hands solemnly, thinking about what Y/N had told him. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, then lightly slapped his cheeks to stop the wave of emotions from spilling out.

"Yo, you good dude? It's not everyday I see someone willingly slapping themselves." Kaminari chuckled, walking in and closing the door with his foot as he carried a soda bottle and a bag of chips towards the boy sitting on his bed. Sero grinned, feeling the sadness of everything wash away.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine. But what about you though? After we had that conversation, you were, well, umm... kind of out of it." Kaminari froze, letting a dejected smile appear on his face. Dragging a hand down his face, he let out a sorrowful laugh.

"She's my best friend. My first real, true friend. She's basically my sister at this point. So when she collapsed that day, I felt my whole world crashing down. She is the sweetest, the most kindest, person I have ever met. She never let me degrade myself, alway cheered me up when people called me stupid." Kaminari rubbed his eyes, opening the bag of chips and plopping one of them into his mouth.

"It hasn't been the same ever since she left, her parents barely come over anymore, and they're always so sad whenever I see them. My own parents aren't the same either, they treated her like their own daughter. I can't even begin to imagine how Y/N feels about this all. She was the top in our grade, highest scores in our test. No one could compare to her. M-my heart breaks for her. She lost everything." Sero let that information sink in, thinking about how she was before. He smiled as he saw Kaminari's shoulders begin to shake. He cares so much for her.

He put his hand on his shoulder, watching Kaminari slowly lift his face towards him. "Come here you emotional ball of feelings." Being the friendly guy he is, Sero gave the sobbing boy a hug, cuz hugs fix everything.

"No homo though bro." And with that, they both laughed out loud, continuing their bro day.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #fanfic

48 notes · View notes

povcherry · 3 years ago

Text

The Love Test | DNF

Dream and George take a test to see if they are in love with their best friend

The intense red text was prominent on his screen. Frustratingly, the one time Dream agrees to playing bedwars with George and Hypixel is down.

Dream lent back in his chair, hands behind his head staring up at the ceiling. His room was dark, the only light shone from his monitors. Patches wrapped around his legs. A deep sigh left George, as he lay his head on his desk in exasperation, an empty subway wrapper by his face, the time on his monitor read 2:17 am, yet he wasn't tired. After being on calls almost consecutively with Dream for essentially a year, he had managed to sync his sleep schedule up with him, already in Florida time prepared for when he goes to live with Dream and Sapnap.

George was disheartened. He was looking forward to playing with Dream. They were both normally either too tired or busy editing or working to go on minecraft for fun, and not just for a YouTube video. But now that they couldn't play bedwars, they were bored and unsure of what to do. They only called each other so that they could play minecraft, but that wasn't an option anymore.

"What do you want to do now then?" Dream asks, his voice far away from the mic, so much so that George nearly missed what he said. He hesitated, staring at Dreams discord profile picture light up.

"We could..." He stalled, drawing out his words. He wasn't the best at making decisions, he was much to indecisive. "Do you want to stream GeoGuessr?" He suggested, silently hoping Dream would say no. He didn't really want to do anything, only talk to Dream for hours on end.

"Not really. My brain is too slow for that level of concentration." That earned a giggle from George, putting a small smile on Dreams face. He loved that sound. "How about we go in my merch vc? Me and ni- Sapnap had fun last time just listening to music?"

George was hesitant. The last time he went in Dreams merch voice call was during the sleep over with Sapnap and Dream. That ended up in a disaster of butterflies and George having to turn his phone off for a couple of hours just to distract himself from the 'dreamnotfound' mayhem they had caused yet again on twitter. He felt giddy just thinking about it, Dream whispering into the mic, loudly cursing when George beat him at 8ball. It made him dizzy thinking about it... thinking about him.

George didn't hate it though- the attention from Dream and the fans. Despite all the jokes and innuendos that they both do to mess with their fans, George knew there was some truth to it all. A deeper meaning to being called an idiot. The endearing term that Dream loved to use oh so much. George felt fluttery, wanting to be called an idiot at this moment.

"George?" He had been silent for a while, reminiscing.

"What would we do on there?"

"Just talk. Or listen to music. Whatever you want to do, George".

Without thinking, George clicked onto the icon for Dreams server. "Do you need to add me to the call?" He asked, unsure about how the podcasts worked.

"Yeah, I need to quickly tell my mods to open it first."

Within minutes, they where in the call, hundreds of people pouring in immediately, spamming the chat with things like 'GEORGE?!' and blue and green hearts. George stifled a giggle, nerves taking over him. Despite doing streams for a living with tens of thousands of people watching him, there was something more intimate with calling Dream in a private server.

"Hello" Dream broke the silence, welcoming all the fans. He chuckled, looking at the chat, "Yes, George is here today. Hypixel was down and we had nothing to do"

"Hi" George was unsure what to say, scratching his neck in awkwardness. It wasn't this weird when he was streaming. At least then they had a plan and chat was relatively easy to read. He was doubtful that this call would end well, what with his ignorance to some innuendos and jokes involving DreamNotfound.

"We thought we would just pop on here. We're kind of bored." Dream stated, unable to see what people where spamming in the #podcast chat. "I can't see what you guys are saying, i'll probably just read my twitch chat."

Half an hour passed and George was getting hungry and bored, nothing eventful had really happened so far except for Dream explaining his setup and chat freaking out over his galaxy mouse pad.

"I want food but all that's in my fridge is butter... oh and the BTS sauces and... uhm expired milk" George complained, looking through his fridge while still on the call.

Dream chucked, "Why do you have expired milk in your fridge?"

"Not the point, I just want food"

"Well get some food then" Dream counteracted. George sighed and rolled his eyes, sitting back down in his chair. His stomach rumbled loudly, calling out to his hunger.

"I'm going to order McDonald's." And with that George muted his mic, found the McDonald's number and ordered his food, in the background, he could hear Dream.

"Should i do a quiz?... yeah? Link some in the podcast chat." There was a long silence. George, long ordered his food, stayed muted, listening to Dream talk to his chat. He found it so endearing the way Dream spoke to them, as though they where a family. His voice soft and gentle as he scrolled through the chat looking for a quiz.

"Ooh, this looks interesting... oh, 'Am I In Love With My Best Friend?'. Sounds... interesting" George stopped. Everything seemed to slow down. Eyes wide as he looked at the screen infront of him, Dreams discord icon lighting up as he chuckled nervously. He wasn't actually going to do it was he? The room was getting hot for George, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to delve into the idea of being in love with his best friend, let alone his best friend being in love with him.

He quickly unmuted, ready to call Dream out on what he was doing, but Dream beat him to it.

"George, i'm going to do the 'Am I In Love With My Best Friend?' quiz" He laughed, opening up the link and reading out the first question. "do you catch yourself looking at your best friend?"

George stalled. They had face timed multiple times in the past, Dream only letting George see his eyes upwards, but George always found it hard for him to look away. He got lost staring at his best friends eyes. George quickly messaged Dream asking for the link for the quiz, if Dream was going to do it, so would George.

"Dream, check dm's" He rushed.

"Huh, what, why?" Dream asked, busy trying to still his own heart beat. He had always known at the back of his mind that he had romantic feelings for George, whether that is because he was just touched starved and was desperate, or because he genuinely wanted more than just a friendship with George, suppressing his feelings as to not ruin anything between them.

"Just read it." George urged, getting apprehensive, unsure whether he should just delete the comment and over analyse everything Dream says.

But before he knew it, the link to the quiz had been sent to George, a small smiley face underneath it from Dream. George was about to reply with a '?' to the smile, but Dream spoke up again.

"I just put 'once in a while', i mean, it's not like im never looking at you but i don't do it like.. all the time." George clicked all the time. He couldn't get enough of Dreams warm amiable eyes. His eyes were a kind of green that speaks to the soul of nature, of fresh wands of grass and new buds, and his eyes were that bright colour, bold and beautiful.

"Right," he snickered, " next question, 'are they the first person you call when something happens?' uhm... yeah, i guess. But not always, i mean i would call my mom first." He laughed, ignoring the fact that George was silent. George always called Dream if something was wrong. He wasn't in contact with his parents, Sapnap wasn't the most mature when it came to serious things, yes he was a great friend and he would be there for George if he needed, but Dream came first. George put Dream before everyone, at time even before himself.

"George?" Dream disrupted his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You're being so quiet, everyone is asking if you're asleep" George looked at chat, Sure enough, between all the green and blue hearts, there where people spamming Georges name and sleep.

"Oh uhm no, it is 3 am though. Kind of tired." He said, anxiously looking at the next question, mouse already hovering over 'it's nice if i can'. George didn't wake up thinking about Dream, not always anyway. Just if they had fallen asleep on call together, or if they were recording a video that day.

"You should sleep." His voice had softened. He too was looking at the same question. Thinking about George staying up just for him made him feel giddy, but he also didn't want George to be sleep deprived.

George held back a smile. "I'm good, we're in sync bb" he snickered, knowing that would get a rise out of the chat. He could practically hear Dream roll his eyes in exasperation.

"Oh come on" He laughed, his voice low and raspy as he started to read out the next question. He couldn't get through it without laughing, however. "'Do you get jealous if he or she has a boyfriend or girlfriend?' Oh come on! I mean..." He started, George's scoff cut him off. "What?" Dream laughed.

"Nothing" George giggled

"To be fair.. no, but... i mean, wouldn't anyone?"

"Not really." George counteracted.

"Well, no. But! But! But! It would be one of those things where it's like, awe, now he's gonna be spending time, like, doing that, instead of like, with us. Like with like, me and sap. So, I'll put maybe a little. Right? Maybe a little.?" Dream stuttered, trying to defend his reasoning while George just giggled at his flusteredness.

George had already clicked 'ugh its the worst' already. He remembered when Dream had told him Sapnap was moving in with him. Now, George knew his best friends. He knew there was nothing going on between Dream and Sapnap, but something about them living together tickled George the wrong way. He was pissed off, to say the least. George wasn't normally jealous, but when it came to Dream, he became a different person. He almost didn't want to share Dream with anyone else... George wanted Dream all to himself.

"Dream, no one is arguing with you..." George whispered endearingly, a small smile painted across his lips.

The next few questions were uneventful. Dream still defended his answers despite no body calling him out on them. The chat was a blur of left ear jokes and and blue and greens. George answered 'yes' on the majority of the questions.

" Do you have dreams about them? Im- Okay! That's unfair, like, oh my god. Okay, I'll put sometimes." Dream rushed, desperately wanting to move onto the next question. He didn't want to tell chat, and especially George, about the dreams he has. No body knew about the desperation Dream has when he dreams about George. The want and longing to touch George in many ways than one. The heartache Dream feels when he wakes up because he knows the happiness his feels in his dreams could never be recreated.

"What?" George once again giggled. He was starting to have fun now. Seeing Dream embarrassed made George feel slightly better about his answers, but at this rate he was afraid the quiz would tell him he's so hopelessly in love with his best friend that there was no hope for him. "What do you dream about me?"

"You- you've had- you're- you're an idiot, you've had dreams! You've had one hundred pe- you've told me about dreams you've had!" He stammered, struggling to get his words out correctly without revealing too much. He was starting to get hot, the air conditioning in his room seemed to do nothing, the 'GNF' jumper he was wearing was suffocating him. He was suddenly finding it hard to breath under the weird pressure of these questions he had no obligation answering.

"What type of dreams, hmm?" George teased. He had his head resting in his hands leaning on the desk, taking in everything Dream was saying. George, of course had clicked 'all the time' about dreaming about Dream. Dream was on his mind 24/7.

"Oh don't even start with me, i know you've had dreams about me. You told me you've like.. texted me in your dreams or something. You.. you definitely have, anyway..." The two argued for the next few questions, and it was all smooth sailing for both Dream and George, until it came to the big one. The one that caused George to almost throw up the McDonald's that he had eaten a half hour ago.

Dream went silent. George could almost hear Dreams heart beating through the mic. He knew why, too. He saw the question. George had been dreading this. He chose to stay silent, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

"Do you ever think about what it would be like to kiss your best friend?" Dream was silent for almost thirty seconds. He felt sick. The amount of times he had wondered what Georges lips felt like. Whether or not they were made for him. Perfectly molded to fit Dreams own. He dreamt about them constantly. The soft touch of lips. He was beyond salvageable. "Uhm, n-no. Of course not."

"Why did you take so long to answer?" George was apprehensive. He wondered whether Dream thought about kissing him as much as he did. George so desperately wanted to, he wanted to feel them on his own lips, wanted to know what Dream tasted like, how he smelt. He was forlorn.

"I'm just going to put, well... i'm going to put.. well there's no good answers. I'm just going to put 'yes but it would be like kissing my mom'". He lied, his mouse had been hovering over 'at least a few times a day', unsure whether to click it or not, but he knew the truth. He wanted to kiss George more than he ever wanted to do anything ever.

The rest of the quiz, George kept silent. If he opened his mouth, he would confess his love on the spot. He had finished all the questions, revealing a 32%. He was totally in love with his best friend. Desperately, pathetically and hopelessly in love. He needed help.

"Okay, last question" Georges ears pricked up at this, he was happy it was almost over. He needed to talk to Dream in private, even if it killed him. "Do you see them in your future?... of course. A lot of my future is your future. I don't want a future without you in it..." Dream whispered, muting his physical mic so that no one could hear his breath leave his body. That was the most intimate he had probably ever been with George in front of fans. He hoped he hadn't just messed anything up.

George still stayed silent. Dreams answer made him almost cry with happiness. He couldn't imagine a future without Dream.

Dream un-muted his mic to finish up the quiz, "It says, you are in love with a few things about your best friend, so it's likely that you could fall entirely in love with them if you... if things keep up the way they are right now." George was unsure of what to say. Chat was once again asking if he was asleep. Both boys took no notice. Almost silently, so silently George almost missed it. But he held his breath, staring at the monitor with fear. All colour had drained from his face. He was about to pass out.

"If.. if you're worried they don't feel the same way... you're going to have to find out how to shut your feelings off, you don't want to ruin what you have."... no one talked for a couple seconds... both of them waiting for the other to say something, until George plucked up the courage.

"I don't want to ruin anything, Dream."

George loved Dream, and Dream was sure he loved George.

#georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #dreamwasfound #gream #dreamnotfound #dnf brainrot #short story

22 notes · View notes