#and if i’m in the city i don’t rlly go places you’d hit on someone

[housecow]

do you get hit on?

WHO would hit on me. the drive thru ppl?? do you really think i go out often my name is literally housecow

“damn girl you order so much food every time you’re here, that’s hot”

[1kook]

card swiped (2)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ How was he, a virgin, supposed to casually take his best friend’s virginity when he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with said best friend?  GENRE eventual smut, minor angst WARNINGS mentions of porn, mentions of sex, mentions of dicks, just jk having dumb thoughts tbh  OTHER volleyball player jk, student council pres oc, childhood friends to lovers, besties to lovers, realization of crushes, there is one (1) cheek kiss 😐 RATING m (18+) WC 1.3k

NOTES (!) i did a follow up!!! this is rlly easy bc its like. dumb. the storyline is p simple so its become therapeutic 😐 anywayyy lemme know what u think !!

[ masterlist ]

The first step to initiating sex is a kiss— right?

Jungkook doesn’t even know anymore. All the porns he’s seen start at weird points in the progression, the first kiss somewhere between when the clothing comes off and when the penis holder shoves their cock in. Did he kiss you now, or was he supposed to wait?

That is, can Jungkook even muster the balls to kiss you? 

He doesn’t know, and when he sits up in front of you, knees against yours, does he come to a new shocking realization: the two of you have never kissed. For as long as Jungkook has known you, there has never been a kiss shared between you two. Not a single experimental phase, surprise mistletoe, not even a dare. Jungkook and you have never kissed, so it only makes sense that the idea of kissing right now has him pausing before he can even try. 

“Uh,” he says, all his years of grammar classes running down the drain when you sit up perkily, a gleam of excitement in your eye. “Tomorrow,” Jungkook chokes out, hurriedly bouncing off your bed before you can even process his words. 

By the time you’ve gotten up, he’s standing at the door with his bag slung over one shoulder, foot shoved into his shoe. “You’re leaving?” you ask, and scare the living daylights out of Jungkook when you suddenly reach for the sleeve of his shirt, successfully halting his hasty departure with one gentle tug alone. 

Jungkook’s face feels like it’ll burn up at this rate, and his brain screams at him to stop being so weird. You were his best friend, for goodness sake, something like this was bound to happen at some point or another. Right? His heart thunders in his chest, and when your eyes soften for the briefest moment, warm and familiar again, Jungkook relaxes. 

“I have practice,” he says casually, tugging the strap of his bag further over his shoulder. Inside, his shoes are shuffled around with his water bottle and practice clothes. “We need more than an hour to do that kind of stuff,” he jokes, but Jungkook isn’t even sure if what he’s saying is true. When that girl had jacked him off at that party—you know, the party—he can’t remember it lasting more than fifteen minutes. To be fair, it had been the first time someone had ever touched him, so maybe it was just because of his inexperience. 

And that brings him back to the same dilemma: how on earth is he supposed to rock your world when he’s never even had sex before?

Before Jungkook can dissolve into a self-induced puddle of panic, you’re letting him go. “Okay,” you say, always so sweet and understanding. You had to be if you were the president of the whatever-council (he’s pretty sure it’s the student council). It should be Jungkook who is this composed, not you. It should be Jungkook who leans forward, presses his lips against your cheek— not you! 

But as it stands, it is you who leans forward, soft lips pressed flush against his cheek, only an inch away from his lips. Your proximity has the overwhelming scent of, well, you fanning over him; fabric softener, lotion, perfume, all of it. “Oh,” Jungkook says, sounding like a total dweeb. The departure of your lips from his skin produces a soft smooching sound, straight from the movies, and Jungkook’s heart lodges itself into his throat when you meet his gaze with a sweet smile. 

And then the door is falling shut and Jungkook is bolting down the hallway, through the campus, and into the gym. He looks and feels insane, the emptiness of the gymnasium a blatant reminder that he was in fact a little too early. Serves him right for chickening out. But a second longer in your presence and he’s almost certain he would have died from heart complications. 

It’s only when he stares out over the gymnasium floor, devoid of any human life, that the gravity of his actions truly hit him. And they hit him hard. Like a city bus skidding across an icy road towards an intersection, Jungkook is suddenly hit full force with the stark realization that he has just prepositioned his friend of nearly fifteen years for sex. While being a virgin. 

“God,” he groans, throwing his bag against the nearest wall. It hits it with a dull thud, sliding down to the floor sadly. Jungkook follows. 

It would be nice to have some common sense every once in a while, to actually use the brain lodged up in his head. Why on earth had he thought offering himself up for sex to you, of all people, would be something easy? Sure, Jungkook as a virgin had some expectations of what sex would be like; deep down inside, he’s always known it won’t be exactly like in porn, there would be some disappointing things and some absolutely amazing things. But those were his own expectations to bear, the end results something that personally wouldn’t weigh down on him too much. 

But now… now Jungkook will have to come face to face with your expectations, that of which he absolutely can’t let down. What if you think his dick is small? What if cums too soon? What if you can’t get turned on by him? What if, at the end of it all, you don’t want to be Jungkook’s friend anymore?

The last thought has him sullenly sinking down further against the wall, chin pressed to his chest, as he mulls over any potential options. It would be weird (at least in Jungkook’s mind) to call it off now, especially after seeing how excited you’d gotten. As your best friend, Jungkook lived by an unspoken, strict code of conduct, that of which dictated that promises between best friends were not meant to be broken. It was the highest offense. 

But how was Jungkook supposed to rock your virgin world if he was a virgin? 

Faintly, he can still feel your puckered lips pressed against his cheek, and he mindlessly raises a hand up to brush his fingers against the skin. It makes him blush, remembering that sweet gaze you’d looked at him with. It’s the same one you used to give him when you were younger, the slightly proud, really content gaze whenever he did his homework before coming over, when he won a game against your rival middle school, when he first walked into a Victoria’s Secret with you when you were both sixteen. “You’re doing amazing, Koo,” you always teased and giggled, the sound gradually mellowing out over the years. 

Just a couple weeks ago he remembers hearing the sound from the bottom of a ladder, dragged into decorating the student center with you for the new school year straight out of practice. He had been tired, so absolutely drained from the drills that day, but it was impossible to say no when you had caught him across the student center, eyes lighting up at the mere sight of Jungkook’s sweaty form. 

“I’m running for student president this year,” you had told him (so it was the student council), the tall windows that lined the building’s walls allowing a ray of sunlight to settle down over you. It had made Jungkook halt for a second, heartbeat skipping one dangerous beat when you descended down, placed a hand on his shoulder the closer you got. “Vote for me, please?” 

“Yeah,” he had breathed, felt like the entire world was too small to fit the growing feeling in his chest. 

And it’s with that memory that Jungkook reaches his third and final realization of the afternoon, an accumulation of all the prior ones: how was he, a virgin, supposed to casually take his best friend’s virginity when he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with said best friend? 

“Oh… fuck,” he groans, slumping down until he’s practically sprawled over the floor, startling Namjoon and Jimin as they enter the gymnasium. Jimin scolds him for scaring them, but Jungkook is so deep in his wallowing that he barely hears. 

He was in trouble.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[pascalpanic]

Pilot’s Hands (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Summary: Frankie takes you up flying in his helicopter. You can’t help but focus on those goddamn hands of his.

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), finger penetration/fingering, language, lots of dirty talk and innuendos, please forgive the multiple puns I made, a singular smack to the ass. afab reader. talk of flying in helicopters and being rlly high above the ground. reader is nervous about heights.

A/N: Frankie smut is the best smut. This was requested by @notabotiswear!! I hope it’s what you were feeling, love!

Your hands grip the chair as the helicopter slowly lifts from the ground. There’s an urge deep inside of you to jump from it now, while you’re low, so that nothing can happen, that you can’t be lifted up. You want to scream and shout and rip these headphones from your ears and make it all stop, but you don’t. You grip the seat even harder and squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the pressure in your ears start popping and changing.

The anxiety eases instantly as you look to your left. There sits Frankie, guiding the helicopter. He looks absolutely fucking gorgeous, as usual. Today he wears a warm flannel over a t-shirt with his favorite beer’s logo. On top of his brown waves, which were extra unmanageable this morning, sits his favorite ball cap. He’d spent an unhealthy amount of time picking out just the right outfit today, since it was technically a date.

You smile a little at how focused he is. There are lines of concentration between his two thick eyebrows, his stubbly jaw clenched in concentration. His large hands navigate around the dashboard, controlling the massive machine as it pushes you up into the sky. It’s soothing when he’s the one doing it.

Frankie has always talked to you about his love of flying. It’s something you’ve never quite understood. He talks about it like it’s beyond any other experience. Flying is his happy place. He’s never more content than when he can control the big machine and soar through the sky. You’re the opposite. Flights usually required you to take an anxiety med and pass out. The feeling of being so far above the ground makes you panic and fills your brain with the worst possible scenarios.

There’s something better about it when the man you’d trust with your life- are trusting with your life- is the one piloting the machine. He sneaks you a smile as he notices you staring, but in an instant is back at the controls. You giggle and lean back in your chair, enjoying the view. Frankie’s got you.

The ascent continues. You’re still gripping the sides of the chair with all of the force your hands can create, and the anxiety seeps in. You close your eyes and force yourself to focus on your breathing. Even this high in the air, Frankie is your solid ground. You reach over and grab his thigh, knowing his hands are too busy to hold. Your fingers dig into his leg, but it’s no distraction.

Finally, Frankie slips one hand beneath yours and laces your fingers together. “Open those eyes, baby,” he asks, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “We’re at the cruising altitude.”

Your eyes open and are filled with nothing but blue sky surrounding you. Looking to the sides, you can see your city surrounding the two of you. Everything looks so small. You’re unconsciously beaming, and when you turn to look at Frankie, he’s grinning back. “Cool, right?” He asks with an equally big smile.

“The coolest,” you nod in agreement and laugh. It’s astounding, really.

“Just one second, babe,” he tells you and drops your hands, pressing some buttons and flipping some switches. His hands are skilled, flying across the controls with practiced ease. His voice is smooth and even in tone as he talks to someone in his headset. He continues even as he talks to the controller, reaching over you to hit a far button.

He’s good to just steer now, you can tell, and you wrap both of your arms around one of his. He signs off from the call and looks over at you, then down at the arms on your hands. “You need something to hold onto?” He asks, leaning over and kissing your head briefly.

“You look sexy flying,” you chuckle and slide your hands down to his, holding it happily as you look around. “You’re just… so good at it,” you shrug and look around the cockpit.

He laughs softly. “I wonder how it happened,” he teases, pulling his hand back to he can use it to navigate. “Are you okay? Sure you’re not too anxious?” He asks. His eyes aren’t on you- they can’t afford to be right now, while you’re in the air- but his words are sincere.

You nod, beaming. “I trust the pilot more than I ever have.”

He shakes his head and smiles, adjusting his cap before flipping a few more switches. “You just keep telling me, okay? Let me know if you wanna be done early.”

“I think I can handle thirty minutes in the air, watching you be all cute and smart.”

“Smart? I don’t know about that one, baby,” he shakes his head but smiles down at the gauges he checks.

For a few minutes, it’s silent between the two of you. The hum of the engine and the spinning blades fills the space between you. You’re content to look around while Frankie pilots the two of you, snapping photos. At one point, you sneak a few photos of him, giggling at how cute he looks. You lean over and kiss his jaw through the stubble, which makes him grin and blush slightly. “Babe, I’m working,” he whines, but it’s all teasing, you both know. Frankie loves nothing more than some physical affirmation.

You chat quietly when he has the time to do so, when the machine doesn’t require as much of his attention. He’s fantastically skilled at multitasking, you notice, which makes you smirk a little. He’s so fucking good at what he does, those calloused hands dancing around the dash like a skilled piano player reciting a sonata, like an artist creating a masterpiece. And you suppose, to Frankie, flying is like an art.

“Do you know any tricks?” You ask at one point.

Frankie nods. “I can do barrel rolls and shit. I don’t think you’d want to feel that,” he chuckles, his hand resting on top of yours, which sits on his thigh.

“Oh fuck, not now,” you laugh softly. “But that’s really cool.” And hot, your primal brain, the one that seeks the best mate, tells you.

As the time in the air dwindles down to a stop, Frankie once again has to pay full attention. You return to your previous position: gripping your chair. Your hands aren’t as forceful now, far more trusting of Frankie and his skills. You can even look around as the world grows bigger and bigger as you approach it. Not long after, the helicopter lands, and you let out a deep sigh of relief. “Wow,” you laugh, a little bit of anxiety still in your voice. “Now I can tell you everything that I wanted to say in the air.”

Frankie looks over at you, tilting his head in confusion. “And what was that, exactly?”

“That you look so fucking hot,” you grin at him. “You do, really. You know what the fuck you’re doing, and that’s hot. And your hands, you’re so good with them,” you muse as you pick one up and play with the thick fingers attached.

This time, Frankie’s smiling. “Oh yeah?”

You nod happily. “Mhm. Just look so good when you’re using them. Makes me think of other things they’re good at.”

He’s a little red, but he grins. “Really?”

“You know that. I’m never quiet about how good you are with them, am I?” You tease and laugh.

Frankie’s face tinges with red, and his Adam’s apple bobs hard with a gulp. “Don’t do this to me yet, baby,” he chuckles and shakes his head. He removes your headphones once the blades have stopped rotating, then his own, and unstraps the both of you.

Frankie gets out then helps you down from the chopper. One of the other men who works at the field comes over to say hello, and he snaps a photo of you and Frankie for you.

The picture is perfect: the blue skies in the background contrast the dark metal of Frankie’s helicopter. He has both arms around you, and you have one hand pressed to his chest. You’re both grinning, both wearing flannels and each in one of his ball caps: you stole one this morning before you left his house.

He walks away after you both thank him, and Frankie leans in close. “Gotta get some shit done in the hangar. Won’t be more than ten minutes. Go wait for me in the car, baby girl,” he murmurs in your ear. He gives you a little smack on the ass, which makes you start to scamper off.

You grab his keys from his pocket, then toss a flirty smile over your shoulder as you walk to the parking garage.

-

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting shotgun in Frankie’s truck. He removes his cap and runs a hand through those curls before putting it back. You watch it, noticing the way the knuckles bend and fold. He looks over at you and notices the expression on your face. “You still thinking about them, baby girl?” He asks with a growing smirk.

You nod, the wetness in your panties growing. “Mhm. Think you could pilot me?”

Frankie rests a hand on your thigh, tracing circles into the skin. “Unzip those jeans for me, baby. Let’s find out.”

You’re in a parking garage, and no one else is around. It’s early on a Saturday morning, but the risk is just as exciting. You do as he says, and Frankie slides his fingers beneath your panties.

The pads of his ring and middle fingers start at the top of your folds, tracing down the damp skin until they reach your entrance. “Fuck,” he groans at how wet you already feel. His fingers swirl around just millimeters inside of you, taking the wetness and removing his hand, bringing it up to your mouth. “Gotta get them ready for me first, honey. You’re already plenty wet, but I wanna make it good for you.”

You oblige and take his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them dutifully and moaning around them. They’re so thick and strong, and the thought makes you spread your legs wider. “Good girl,” Frankie almost growls before bringing his fingers back down to your entrance and slipping them inside of you.

You cry out, your hand gripping the side of your seat once more; this time, it isn’t from anxiety, but from pleasure. They scissor you open slowly, those thick digits reaching deep inside to that spot you can never quite reach with your own. “Ah, fuck,” you whimper as the heel of his palm grinds against your clit. “I was thinking about this the whole time we were flying, Frankie. Your fingers and how good they feel inside me.”

He bites his lip, curling his toes in effort to not get hard right here and now. As much as he loves doing this, loves the risk, this is all the two of you can afford. It’s too late: he’s already got a semi tenting in his jeans.

“Yeah? That’s what you were thinking, dirty girl?” He almost purrs, his voice deep and desperate. “I’m trying to keep us from falling and dying, and all you could think about was how good it feels when I do this?”

As he says this, his fingers curl deep inside you and brush against your g-spot. “Fuck, yeah,” you nod, panting now. You’re sweating, probably through your t-shirt, but you don’t care. It feels too good. One hand of yours grips his wrist, as if it could keep him from pulling away. As if he ever would in the first place.

“Such a good girl, so wet for me,” he groans as he forces himself to stop his hips from bucking into the air, against nothing. “I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to you and you’d let me, couldn’t I?” He murmurs. “You’d even let me fuck you in that helicopter. No anxiety when you got my dick inside you, huh?”

You nod. “You could, yeah,” you groan, your other hand digging into the leather seat. “Anything you want, you got it,” you nod. “Feels so good, anything you do does.”

He smirks. “Maybe I’ll have to try that sometime, huh? Have you keep my cock warm while I fly?”

“Anything,” you repeat breathless, shuddering beneath him. The heel of his palm grinds harder into your clit and it’s all too much. “Frankie, baby, gonna cum, almost there.”

“That’s it, baby girl,” he nods, working his fingers harder. “Cum for me,” he demands, and who are you to disobey such a wonderful order?

Your walls clamp down hard on his thick fingers, the pleasure overwhelming you. “Frankie!” You cry out, head falling into the headrest of the seat.

Everything in your body is pulsing, desperate, pumping red-hot blood that feels like it’s infused with some kind of illicit drug to produce such a high. You whine his name again and again until it’s all too much, and you squeeze his wrist gently, asking him to be done.

He complies, tracing his fingers through your folds before they press against your lips again. “Clean me off, baby.”

You nod and take them in your mouth, lavishing them with your tongue the way you would with his cock, which you’re now growing more and more desperate for.

He pulls them out with a pop and dries them on his flannel, smirking over at you. “Goddamn, honey,” he murmurs as he looks at how wrecked you are just from his fingers. Before you can say anything, Frankie whips the truck into drive and peels out of the parking spot.

The sound of squealing rubber startles you, making you jump and squeal as you button your jeans and zip them. “Frankie!” You gasp and smack his arm. “What the fuck was that?”

His eyes are dead-set on the road, determined not to look at you, not to detract from his mission. “I’m getting us home as soon as I physically can so I can feel that around my dick,” he says, teeth grit in concentration.

He’s rock hard, you can see, and you offer a soft rub into his crotch. “Oh, baby,” you chuckle excitedly, staring at the road ahead of you. It’s going to be a long ride home for the two of you.

It’s safe to say that your anxiety over flying has lessened.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867

[kireijae]

halfway - l.ty

summary: you pull taeyong away from work (as usual) although it turns out your motives are not what he thought they were

pairing: lee taeyong x reader

genre: fluff, a bit of angst, established relationship

warnings: a tiny tiny tiny bit almost suggestive at one point but that’s it

words: 1408

a/n: swimming is just rlly nice and so is taeyongie so i put ‘em together dfhdjfdfg

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You leaned on the doorframe of the studio, shoulder pressed against the black metal. Your arms were folded over your chest, the cuffs of your oversized woollen jumper collecting around your wrists.

You listened to the beat of the song that danced throughout the small room. It molded your heartbeat to its pace; made your blood dance through your veins like people dancing excitedly down a hallway- the sound of it was addictive. And the lyrics made your heart warm- sending tingles of pride through your shoulders and down your spine, the mix of feelings pushing a smile onto your face.

When the rhythm faded, the sound of a door clicking open caught your attention, yanking your eyes from their previously set position. Taeyong walked out of the recording booth, platinum hair still styled from his performance earlier in the day, but clad in an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants. His bucket hat lay on the mixing table, sagging on one side.

His dark brows were furrowed in concentration when the song was played again. You could see his eyes flitting around the screen, evidence of his brain picking the song apart layer by layer, note by note.

“There!” he said suddenly, pointing to the monitor where the clips of his work had been pieced together, “I wanted to add a-”

And that’s when you decided to speak up, stopping him from giving himself any more work for the night.

“Actually,” only the producer turned around at the sound of your voice, since Taeyong’s big brown eyes were still tied to the screen, so you directed your next words towards her, “I need to steal him.”

“Huh?” your boyfriend finally looked at you now, directing his wide-eyed stare away from the monitor and towards you. His mouth was open, but his pink lips were pouted; he looked like he’d suddenly been told everything he ever knew was a lie, “I just need to do one more-”

“Taeyong, we do have another session tomorrow to finish things up,” you were thankful for the producer’s words, just as she was thankful for yours — it was nearing 2am and you could see the tiredness pulling at the skin under her eyes. She was new to the company, you could tell from the overly-polite tone in her voice.

Taeyong took one look back at the monitor and sighed, lips jutting out exasperatedly, before turning back to you and nodding his head defeatedly, lips stretched into a straight line, creating two perfect little indents in his cheeks. He knew not to fight you on things like this anymore- he knew you simply wanted the best for him whether it was something he liked or not.

He grabbed his things from the booth and came back out, weaving between the wall and the speakers on his way.

“Thank you for your hard work!” he said, taking your hand in his bony one and opening the glass door with the other.

“I’m not tired,” he said once you were out in the hallway. He’d said it defensively, seemingly knowing what your next move would be.

Only he didn’t this time, “I know. Me neither.” Your words were nonchalant, eyes trailing the walls as you walked passed them.

He stopped in his tracks, head falling back slightly and eyes narrowing at you, “Then why’d you come get me?”

“Can I not want to spend some time with my boyfriend?” He gave you a skeptical look at that.

You pulled him to the uppermost balcony in the building and once you were both out in the night breeze, you held out your arm, on which was your tote bag, “Your swimsuit is in there.”

Taeyong took it without another word or even a confused glance, and walked off to go change.

The blue lights that lined the walls of the pool made the water glow like a sapphire in the sunlight: the small ripples in the water creating the many facets of a sapphire as the light beneath the surface refracted off them.

You removed the clothes you’d thrown on over your swimsuit and shivered slightly when you felt the wind’s fingertips slide over your skin, tickling you. Stepping into the pool, however, brought a new chill to you, one which was accompanied by the tender hug of the water around your body.

To distract you as your body acclimatized to the temperature, you looked out through the glass fencing surrounding the balcony. The city was nowhere near desolate- squares of light lined the sides of the buildings around you. The city rumbled endlessly, never sleeping and never resting. People’s lives flooded the streets and filled the buildings around you- you could almost feel their presence.

You were tugged from your admiration of the city before you when a loud yell- one that sounded distinctly like Taeyong- and a splash echoed off the walls behind you and clumps of water hit your body. You swore you’d heard a sound just like among the adlibs of one of his songs- he truly did put everything of himself into his songs. The sounds he made only among his closest friends lined the walls of the recording studio and filled his songs. The fact that someone could be so vulnerable like that with something millions of people will hear one day astounded you- he astounded you.

You turned towards Taeyong, who’d obviously just hurled himself into the pool rather recklessly.

You glided over to him, placing your hands on his droplet covered shoulders and pulled the rest of your body to his through the water. He met your actions halfway by pulling your legs around his waist. You ran your hands through his hair, the strands now sticky with the mix of gel and water on them.

“You know,” said Taeyong, leaning his head back to look into your eyes, “you don’t have to look after me all the time, right?”

You hummed in approval, sliding your fingertips over his shoulders, “You’re the one looking after me right now.”

His face twisted in confusion, a question swirling in the air between you.

“You know I need you, too,” your voice echoed as you let your gaze fall to the shining sliver of water between the two of you.

He dipped his head down in order to pull your eyes to his and before any words could even form themselves in his mind, you pulled yourself flush to his chest and rested your chin on his toned shoulder.

“I need you near me.”

You stayed like that for a while longer, hugging each other and feeling the water hugging you. Eventually the cold started to reach your bones and you got out and changed. Walking down the long hallways of the building practically lured you into sleepiness, only encountering a few people along the way — none of them big on starting a conversation at such an hour. Passing hello’s were exchanged and nothing more.

You held onto Taeyong’s hand the whole way, pulling comfort from the touch.

Taeyong reached his arm out to you once you were both safely in the confines of his room. You noticed new drawings on the wall near his door, but before you could focus your eyes on the figures, he pulled you down onto the bed with him. You landed with a thump on his chest, which pushed a giggle from Taeyong’s mouth.

On any other night you would have halfheartedly complained, but that night, you only crawled up further onto his chest and buried your face in the cool, soft skin of his neck. And on any other night you would be tempted to mark it, but you merely took in the scent that emanated from the skin.

“I miss you when you’re gone,” you said it quietly, feeling bashful at the words.

It wasn’t as though you’d never said those words to him before — you said them almost every day. But you’d never felt them so deeply before. Or at least, you hadn’t admitted it to yourself.

He sunk into the mattress then, nearly limp as the realisation washed over him. He understood what you meant.All those times you came to pull him away from recording or practicing weren’t just for him. Those times you made sure he ate healthily and got enough rest. They were all for you as well.

You needed him as much as he needed you.

if you enjoyed this, buy me a ko-fi!

© copyright jewelledtae 2021, all rights reserved

[imaginethathaikyuu]

How did I find your blog? I was looking for soft Kuroo content on google. And your soft birthday hc’s for him came up. And that’s also how I found tumblr

What was the first story of yours that I read? That Kuroo piece ^

Roughly, how long have I been following this blog? Well I found that piece shortly after it was posted so…. Around the beginning of December 2019 I think. Got a tumblr a few months later and you were the first person I followed (had you in my bookmarks bar before that! (still have you in my bookmarks bar and when I share my screen in classes there are occasionally questions. I ignore them))

What’s something I’ve noticed about you personality wise? You’re really clever and funny. But you’re also sweet. But because you’re clever you have no hesitation in setting up and enforcing your boundaries, and I really admire that strength and confidence.

Have we ever interacted, either by PM, ask, or in the comments? What was my perception of you? YES!!! PM, SOOOOO many asks, comments, and you sent me an ask. And reblogged it. And I cried. A lot. My perception: you’re lovely and I want to h*ld your h*nd ….please.

What’s my favorite story of yours? Oh how to choose. Firstly, I’m a nb, biracial, bisexual. Honey, I’ve never made a choice in my life. But let’s try here. Anything you’ve written for Tsukki. Literally all of it is gold. Fight me. I was going to write “especially [piece title]” but I LITERALLY CANNOT CHOOSE ONE. Your Bokuto nightmare piece. Your Kuroo angsty fight. Your Tendou dealing with S/O with parents who yell piece. Your Kinktobers. Your Futakuchi and Mattsun pieces. And your Terushima pieces. Ugh. I CANNOT CHOOSE. OH AND YOUR STREAMER KENMA!!!!!! OKay just… all of it. I can’t choose. I tried, and I failed, and I’m willing to admit failure.

What’s a story I’d love to see you write? I don’t want to say this… because it hurts me… but I just KNOW you’d write brilliant angst. Some of my fav pieces of yours are pained beginnings with happy endings. That fight with Tsukki after a bad day at work. The pieces I mentioned above (nightmare pieces and fighting pieces and angsty home life ha.. ha.ha.ha.). That Oikawa one where the reader wakes up in bed without him and thinks he left. You write these gorgeous atmospheres and descriptive, visceral feelings, and if you chose to use it for evil…. You could get evil shit done. You’re SO powerful. So I want to read it… but also…. I don’t. I’d love to see you write ABO like you mentioned a while back or just see you explore a cutesy soulmate AU or something. I think you’d be really good at writing an AU where you hear what the other person’s listening too. I feel like you’d be so good at making me feel something for someone who was in another city. (think this would be cute with Tsukki cos he’s headphones boy, OR terushima because I like the dynamic of someone flirty, who clearly cares about looks, falling for someone he can’t see) ANYWAY….

Favorite pairing you write for?/fav reader insert? Tsukishima x reader. It’s my fav self-ship. (but also Mattsun, Bokuto, Oikawa, Tanaka, and Akaashi because you write them SO WELL!!!!)

Have any of your stories helped me through a hard time? Of course. Your self-harm piece came at a time I needed it. Iwaizumi’s in particular saved my life. But also your Tendou dealing with S/O parents who fight… came right when I needed it. Also starting college… was hard.. And reading and rereading your fluff really pulled me through it.

Have any of your stories hit closer to home? YES (see above).

Do I genuinely like your blog, it’s aesthetic or posts? It’s overall feel? It’s content? Yes. The aesthetic is, ngl, a wee bit basic. But I kinda love that. And the feel? It feels like home. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Your blog is my safe space. So, yes, I love. It’s content? YES. OF COURSE. Your personality probably could have kept me here even if your content was kinda shit, but I follow you RELIGIOUSLY because of your content. So yes. I adore.

Is English my first language? Kinda??? I grew up in a trilingual household so I kinda learned three languages at the same time while growing up. But no, I don’t need to translate it in my head. Because English was one of the three.

Anything I want to share? Yes. Please keep being kind to yourself, caring for your mental health, enforcing your boundaries, loving Akaashi, and just generally being you. You’re so lovely as you are, and I hope you continue grow, but never change. Also I’m sorry about all your work stuff…. It literally makes me feel sick. And I hope you find a job where that’s not tolerated, or that your work finds a better way of protecting it’s employees. I know you know this, but none of it is your fault. I just hope things improve. AND I love you… a lot. And I’m so proud of you hitting 9K and you deserve so many more followers because your pieces are just... GORGEOUS. I can’t wait until I’m at Barnes and Noble in a few years and I can pick up a hardback copy of your debut novel. I’m so excited to say “I knew Em Akaashi (which is your legal name as far as I’m concerned) before she was so popular among the masses.”

so ive been trying to figure out the correct and worthy way to reply to this ask since the moment i got it......because its so fucking sweet and kind and amazing and pure and perfect and i just dont know how to use WORDS to explain the way it makes me feel so.......i will just reply in bullet points in regards to every question u answered to make it a lil easier :D

- the fact that u found my blog on google ....... like this may be odd and a very specific thing but before i made this blog i always hoped that 1 day my fanfic would pop up in google searches bc thats ALWAYS how i found fics when i was reading them religiously and i felt so much ENVY!!!!! LIKE I WANTED TO BE THERE I WANTED MY FICS TO B POPULAR ENOUGH TO POP UP ON GOOGLE.....that may sound very selfish but its true......so thats just very cool to me... :]

- u’ve been here for so long omg 🥺🥺🥺🥺 if anyone in ur classes ever asks jus promo my blog like its nbd 

- thats so sweet what 🥺🥺🥺 i try my best to advocate for myself and be confident for myself.....ive spent far too much of my time being silently uncomfortable because i was afraid of pushing someone’s buttons seeming rude.....but NO MORE!!!! i know what upsets me, i know my triggers, i know what i dislike experiencing, and im never gonna let myself be anxious or uncomfortable for someone else’s sake, esp if theyre being rude 2 me. i would say its less strength and confidence and moreso me attempting to take control of my anxiety in the places i can (aka on the Internet) bc i am SICK OF ANXIETY ATTACKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

- BBY no dont CRY!!!! im racking my brain trying to think of who u are i wanna know so bad so i can thank u personally for being the kindest person in the world n so i can send u more asks >:(........MY HAND IS URS TO HOLD!!!!! dont tell akaashi tho 

- OMG my TSUKKI pieces.....hes so hard to write why ;-; thank u so much im so glad u enjoy my works<3333

- NOT ANGST NOT LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!! pained beginnings to happy endings are my specialty.....IMAGINE me writing a sad ending like i CANT!!!!!!!!! ive only done it a few times and it is so Difficult.....YALL ARE SO LUCKY IM NOT EVIL!!!!!! ive had this idea for an angsty akaashi fic that i think about and write in my head every night before falling asleep and it Hurts and i wanna write it but i also can’t make myself :D ABO would be very fun but i genuinely do not know how to explore the concept while making it feel like it’s Written By Me.....u know what i mean? same with soulmate aus, i really dislike writing them because theyre just boring to me like they all feel the same everything’s been done for them.....which is FINE!!! but i write enough cliche stuff as it is HAHA, a long distance type soulmate au could be fun and interesting but ldr’s trigger me bc of a past relationship so </3 but hey maybe someone else could use the idea!!!!!

- gotta love tsukishima <3

- im rlly glad my writing could be there for you friend, one of the biggest reasons i write fanfic (and write the kind of fics i write) is bc i know firsthand how much reading sweet stories abt ur comfort characters can help u through the shittiest times - i just wanna offer ppl some support and happy feelings and love cuz sometimes fanfic is the only time we can find those things (and theres nothing shameful abt that either if anyone bullies u for reading fanfic i will fight them)

- I KNOW MY LAYOUT IS LAZY AND BASIC AS FUCK AND THAT IS BECAUSE I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT LMAOOOO so im glad u think its ok...... like i dont have the patience to create a fancy ass layout that actually works are u KIDDING ME??????? I COULD LITERALLY NEVER plus i kinda like that its just the basic kinda ugly boring default layout like it makes it simple and easy and i feel like it brings focus to the only thing on this blog that i care about which is my writing, i rlly only care about the content here and not aesthetics jdbljdabsdk that blue background will be there til i Die......i adore u more btw 

- WHOA trilingual what the hell ur so cool tell me more 

- you have my word, friend, that i will continue to do all of that so long as you do the same. take care of yourself, be kind to yourself - i know u can do it, ur so kind to others and u deserve to be kind to urself, too so this is the part that genuinely brought me to tears because *sappy dumb shit ahead* ok look ever since i can remember the one and only thing ive wanted to do with my life is become an author ...... dreams of book covers with my name written on them and words in pages written by me and fanart of my characters and going into my local bookstore n seeing my book there....these thoughts all haunt my fucking brain because i want it SO BAD!!!!!!!! so bad that it makes me CRY!!!!!!!! ive never wanted something more and just!!!!!!!!!!!! idk how much u meant that part but holy fuck!!!!!! i hope so bad that one day i can send u a free copy of my book as a thank u for being the person u are. u have all my love friend, every last bit of it <333333333

[sergeanttpoliteness]

➹teenage vows➹(peter b. parker x fem!reader)

Requested by anon➝   hi!! is it alright to request some peter b parker x fem!reader confession/proposal scene? tysm ❤❤

It’s time Peter caught up to some promises he made long ago. Like, embarrassingly long ago.

word count: 6k

a/n: hello! hope whoever’s reading this is having a good day bc u deserve it. just a heads up, but i think i’m gonna post a lot slower bc school starts tomorrow (pls kill me) and i gotta work hard if i want to get in a good college, y’know. gross. but anyway, i hope whoever requested it likes it! i had so much fun writing it and it’s rlly sweet and short, my heart is warm. i promise i’ll be uploading part 2 of one make out session next, idk when but i’m working on it (: enjoy!

It was moments like these— the ones where you flashed him teary smile, and reassured him that you didn't mind him leaving you for the night to go and save the city desperate for his protection— that Peter desired to pause the outside world just so it could be you and you only; no agonizing battles, no villains tearing him to pieces, no delinquents threatening the safety of others when they could barely even withstand a punch. Because just as much as everyone else, you needed him; and as guilty as it made him feel, he pondered the possibility of putting away the mantle of the Spiderling for a single night as he perched on the window sill hesitating, wearing his suit, his mask not fully on yet. But you both knew no such thing was an option whilst the news played loudly in the background, the piercing wails of the police sirens multiplying with each passing moment. You simply grasped the fabric and covered his face, smirking as you slowly walked away from the aperture. "Go save some civilians, Spider-Boy." You couldn't see it, but he grinned behind his disguise, for that nickname which would've bothered him if it'd come from someone else's mouth had set his heart ablaze ever since you two were just some kids; and the flare persisted, even as fervent bodies molded into jaded souls, beaten down by the colossal waves of changes and cataclysms that collided into you one after another.

That day you'd been victim of too many tides.

The evening that unfolded wasn't the one Peter planned. Not at all. Life was anything but a fairy tale; his surely wasn't close to being one, but he'd conjure that magic— transform reality into a children's book with your arms around his neck, his around your waist, your lips close, a soft amorous graze, your living room as the ballroom as you two gently swayed until the clock struck midnight. He'd plotted all the details, from the scent of the candles to every compliment he'd utter. Perhaps he worried too much, but it's what your love demanded, what you deserved, a happily ever after, and he'd oblige the heavens to bring you just that. More calamities were what the cosmos had in mind for you and Peter, though, a sour reality-shattering reminder of how nonsensical wasting time in dreaming of that fairy story was.

The first blow hit you (quite literally) just minutes after you woke up, and Peter accidentally knocked a cupboard into your nose. 'How was your morning?' Your coworker asked, the steaming vapor of her coffee clouding her glasses. You went cross-eyed as you glanced down at the gauze on your nose, briefly recalling the previous events— gushing blood, too much for your liking, maybe a broken nose, who knows, and a string of Peter's apologies flying at you at the speed of light as he placed the bandage over your wound. You wore a tight-lipped smile and shrugged while you were unabashedly dishonest— 'oh, you know, same old'. Yeah, because your boyfriend unintentionally breaking your nose (it's not broken, you insisted) was a normal thing, right? Then came the second slap to your face as a revelation; remembrance dawned upon you, your speeding brain screeching to a halt, and you sighed into your hands. It was you and Peter's two year anniversary.

The man spent the entirety of his work blasting himself; it hadn't slipped his memory, unlike you (which was a surprise, seeing how your enthusiasm the day prior could easily be compared to a child's in a candy store), but after his imbecility and shame, how could he not forget to kiss your forehead and bring you breakfast to your bed as a sweet morning surprise the same way you did last year? It didn't stop there— oh, no, it did not— for then came the third inconvenience of the day: goddamn Jameson went on another rant about him— or well, Spider-Man; not a phenomenon, really, you get used to it, but it was at the worst time possible. He timed it: fifteen whole minutes of his booming voice and curses, 'more pictures of the menace!' or whatever, as if Peter didn't already feel ludicrous enough while taking pictures of himself, or the twenty pictures scattered across his boss' desk were a meager effort. An unwanted setback, although he arrived back home nevertheless, scurrying to your bedroom and clumsily removing his clothes along the way. Suit? Check. Clean-shaven face? Check. That one fragrance which turned you on? Check that, too. Roses?

"Ah, shit." He muttered as he took the cooking pot from the cabinet. Roses. Stupid Jameson and his obsession with Spidey— he forgot to stop by the flower shop. It was alright, though, he could deal with it; no flowers? No problem. Just... the food needed to be good, restaurant-type of cuisine, and taking in mind he wasn't a terrific cook, it'd be quite the challenge. Peter lit the lighter, his hand on the stove's knob, prepared to ignite the burner, but he swore it'd suddenly come to life and taunted him, laughed at his upcoming defeat. He narrowed his eyes at the object, somewhat intimidated, when the front door slammed open. He peered up at the clock hanging on the wall. You were back ahead of time, a lot earlier than he'd anticipated; he didn't even have all the ingredients out yet. He alleviated the clutching in his chest with a deep breath before rushing over to the small portable stereo (you two really needed an upgrade), his finger pressing down on a button. He was satisfied with the soft tunes from the random jazz station and scratched the back of his neck as he went to greet you.

"Hey! You're... early." Saying that your appearance was rough would've been uncalled for, but your scowl and glossy eyes kindled that concern in the pit of his stomach. It was another punch, one that caught him off guard as he frowned and immediately wrapped his arms around you. "Hey, what's wrong?" His worry evoked a pang of guilt in you, and you thought about pulling away, but you couldn't, instead digging your nose deeper into the crook of his neck.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just..." You reassured, your tense shoulders relaxing since God, you could breathe in that cologne of his, and he smelled so good. "You look hot."

You sensed his breath catch in his throat before he chuckled, rubbing the small of your back. "I'm glad you think that, but let's talk about you, alright?" You lifted your head to meet his gaze, smiling weakly when he placed a careful kiss on your temple. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head.

"I got a speeding ticket. Two hundred."

Fifth strike.

He blinked, processing your confession, his eyes slowly growing big. "Two hundred?!" You were expecting it; it was a normal reaction, yet you squirmed, flailing your hands as you attempted to explain yourself.

"I'm sorry—"

"Why? How?"

"I'm sorry," You repeated, your hands on top of your head. "I'm so stupid. I can't believe I'm so dumb, and we were saving for the trip but I just fucking ruined it. You deserve a vacation, Pete, I'm so sorry I'm like this." You spoke fast, pulling at your hair with frustration as you walked back and forth in front of him.

"Y/N..." He sighed, upset, of course, but forgiving. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It was just a mistake and we'll get through it, okay?" Your pacing ceased, skepticism crossing your face. "Yeah! The vacation can wait just for a bit. It'll be even more rewarding, anyway." He said with a beam, cupping your cheeks. You didn't know where the rare optimism came from, but you laughed at your lover, the remorse fortifying because you truly did not deserve the tolerance. On the spur of the moment, your fingers threaded through his hair and you pulled him in, urgent lips against his own soft ones. He couldn't help the subtle moan he emitted, dazed by your sudden lust as you spilled all your fervor and hunger into him; all emotion drained from every one of your cells, your fist gripping his jacket, tugging him as close to you as possible, bodies flush together, wrinkling the formerly smooth fabric, yet it wasn't enough.

His hand sneaked inside your shirt, riding up your back; but he paused and groaned, breaking apart from your blissful mouth. "After dinner, but right now I need you to help me because I haven't even gotten started with the food yet." He panted, abstaining from flinging all his cares far away and caving into your luring warmth to please you. Your mouth curved into a smile and you rolled your eyes, pushing him toward the kitchen.

He immediately got back to work, filling the large pot with water, but you stopped at the entrance and glanced down at your outfit. "I should get changed, shouldn't I?"

Peter turned around, shamelessly eyeing your body with desire. "You look perfect." You snorted.

"Peter, you're wearing a suit and I'm still in my work clothes."

"Maybe I... overdid it a bit?" He admitted with a bashful twitch of his lips. He took off his suit jacket, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows while you stole his discarded coat. He didn't notice until you put it on, quirking a brow. "You playing dress up or what?"

"This is it. This is what I'm gonna wear." You declared, raising your arms to show off your glorious look."

Peter bit his lip, a grin breaking out across his face, staring at you as if you were a divine entity, the physical proof of the existence of the heavens above as you straightened the creases. "You look silly." Adorable, he corrected himself internally.

"Nuh-uh, sir, I look hot." You scoffed, although you didn't look silly nor hot, but rather like a little kid who went through an exploration in his father's closet. You'd made up your mind, though; sacrificing a good-looking outfit sounded thousands of times better than actually making the effort to appear decent. You finished your five-second fashion exhibition before a full-blown runway commenced when your stomach rumbled, and summoned your inner chef, standing beside Peter. "You deal with the pasta, I'm gonna pick the salad because there's no way to mess that up."

"I'm the fuck-up, so shouldn't it be the other way around?" He muttered, and as if on cue, he almost spilled the dry pasta noodles all over the counter after miscalculating his strength and tore the bag open. His eyes drifted to you, and just like he predicted, you sported a judgmental expression. "I've got it."

"I dunno, I feel like if I give you a knife you're gonna somehow accidentally stab me." You chuckled, gesturing to the knife in your grasp. His face twisted with remorse. "I'm not feeling so lucky today."

"How's, uh, how's your nose doing?" He questioned, fault gnawing on him. It was the third time the man asked you, the first one being before you left for work, and the remaining a phone call and message during your shift. You, indubitably, told him everything was splendid, as if you didn't almost cry from the pain right after you waved goodbye to him and closed your front door.

"It's okay," You shrugged, despite the sting in the bridge of your nose. "Yeah, you know, it doesn't really hurt. Okay, no, that's a lie— it hurts a bit, but it's not something I can't handle."

"I'm so, so sorry I broke your nose. That was a really dick move."

"It's not broken!" You corrected him, pointing your finger at him. "It's fine. Don't worry, it just looks broken."

"If it looks broken, then it's broken."

"Since when are you a doctor?"

The corner of his lips tugged upwards as he added the pasta to the boiling water. "Y/N, getting my nose broken is my second job."

"Okay, whatever. I've heard the word 'broken' enough times today." You giggled, but then nibbled on your cheek while you began to slice a tomato. "Hey, I need to tell you something."

He swallowed, his throat all of a sudden dry. He opened his mouth to speak, but the abrupt ringing of his phone drove his attention to the device. "Hold on," He took it out of his pocket, his brows knitting together as he checked the screen. Your chest tightened after you sneaked a glimpse of the caller ID. "MJ? Hi!" He greeted, his voice way too cheery and his gaze still on you.

Your chopping came to a halt and you settled the knife on the cutting board. Her voice was clear, audible, yet you couldn't properly distinguish any of her words. Peter hummed as you held onto the counter, your knuckles turning white when his features broke out into a wide grin. "That's great! See, I told you you'd get through it."

Get through it, you reiterated in your head, the sixth wave crashing into your hot-blooded body.

"Yeah... yeah. You too. Night." He finally hung up, and your hand found itself on your hip.

"MJ?" You inquired, your eyebrows raised. He resumed his cooking, his phone forgotten on the countertop and you shot daggers at it.

"Yeah, she just wanted to tell me something."

"Tell you something?"

A crease appeared between his eyebrows and he looked at you sideways, confused. "A problem she fixed."

"Huh. I see." You grumbled, your brows scrunched together. Peter turned to face you, folding his arms across his chest.

"What?"

You met his stare. "What?"

"You're annoyed. I can tell."

"I'm not annoyed." You countered, squinting.

"Yeah, you are, 'cause you're doing that thing with your eyebrows—" He waved his hand, motioning toward your face. You mirrored his stance, doing exactly what he pointed out. "They get really expressive when you're mad."

"Suddenly, there's something wrong with my eyebrows?" You knew you were reaching, but the irritation dominated your mouth. Peter stammered in disbelief, briskly shaking his head.

"What?! Y/N, I did not say that at all."

You leaned against the kitchen counter, your lips tight until you were talking again. "You know, I just think it's kinda weird."

Peter looked heavenward, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, here we go." He took in a deep breath, peeved. "What?"

"How you and Mary Jane have been calling each other so much lately." You mumbled, hugging yourself.

"What about it?"

Now you were the incredulous one. "What about it? Peter, it's weird."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time, but explain why." He said, exasperated.

Your jaw tightened and you picked up the knife before restarting with the slashing of the food, your hold of the tool harsh. "I don't really need to explain myself."

"Well, I want you to!"

"Alright, you want to know why it's weird? You want me to tell you?" Your tone grew louder.

"Yes, please! Go on!" Peter nodded, voice equally as bitter. You scraped the sliced tomatoes off of the cutting board with the knife, careless about where they landed, and clutched a second vegetable.

"She's your ex." You hissed. He had to momentarily walk away, although not too far considering the restricted place. He rubbed his face, holding up two fingers with his other hand.

"That was two years ago. Almost three."

"Your ex-wife!"

"I know what she is, Y/N, but there's no need to be worried. There's a reason why it didn't work out."

"It's kinda hard not to worry when she's calling you all the time, apparently telling you about all the problems in her life and who knows what else. I bet you call her to complain about me, or something." You poked his chest with a pickle.

He pushed the cucumber away with his finger, laughing. "Oh my god, you're being so ridiculous right now."

"I'm allowed to be ridiculous right now!" You shouted, slamming the green edible on the piece of wood.

"We're just friends! I can't even believe I have to say this!"

You shot him a sneer. "How can you just be friends with your ex?"

"Well, that's what we were after we broke up the first time, no?" He claimed, his forehead creased. You grew quiet and weakly dug the blade into the cucumber.

"That's different, I was your best friend. I am your best friend." You whispered, but he wasn't taking it.

He tilted his head back, his eyes closed. "It's really not different."

"It is!" You persisted, "We were kids, and I was friends with Gwen, so obviously it's not like I even thought about trying something."

"You think MJ is trying something?"

You blinked furiously, lifting one shoulder. "You know we never got along that well!"

Peter took a step closer to you, holding himself up with his hand on the counter. "She wouldn't ever do that, Y/N, no matter how bad things are between you two." You rolled your eyes.

"How would you know?"

God, you truly were driving him crazy. He began to tap his foot, groaning. "How would I know? How would I know? We were together for sixteen years, I know a lot more than you do!"

"Sixteen years, no way there still wouldn't be some sort of feelings." You lowly told yourself, but he still listened. He squeezed his hands closed and his view landed on the bundle of bananas inside a basket. He ripped one, peeling it open and taking a large bite, his infuriation pushing him to stress-eat. You heard him exclaim, as if he'd managed to remember an idea long repressed.

"What about that one guy you're always talking with? Thomas, was it?" He began, his mouth full. You whispered 'oh my god' as he swallowed before continuing. "You two dated, didn't you?"

You placed your hand on your chest, unbelieving that he decided to complain about the most insignificant guy in your relationship. "Peter, he's my coworker."

"Well, it's kinda hard not to worry!" He mocked you, flailing his arm.

"Fucking hell."

"He's all attractive and shit, with his eight-pack, expensive car, and twenty dogs. Real boyfriend material, huh?" He clenched his teeth, his hands trembling with the overwhelming jealousy.

You peered up at him, your eyes soft. "I would never hurt you like that."

"Exactly!" He gently held your shoulders, hopeful that you finally understood you absurd your worries were. "Neither would I! Ever."

"You broke up with me once, why would you not do it again?!" You shoved his hands off of you. Despair clawed at your heart, poisoned your insides with its foul venom, constricting your lungs, wetting your eyes.

Your words and crestfallen features subsided his fury, like a powerful breeze extinguishing a flickering candle, a gleam of sunlight reaching out through heavy sullen clouds, clearing his sight. His face fell, his fingers twitching, aching to touch you. "Y/N..."

You cracked, lost control, lashed out all your anguish on the food you cut. "You left me for Gwen! After three years!" Your cutting sped up, loud and quick clanks echoing across the room. "You said you loved me! A-and I believed you!" You sobbed, yet no tears would spill; only built up rage as you snagged a second tomato and stabbed it harder, the blade dangerously close to your finger.

"You're gonna hurt yourself." Peter warned, watching as you ignored him and only went faster, harder, your hand beginning to cramp up.

"But then you didn't love me, you loved her, and everything you said became complete bullshit and just lies! All those stupid promises and your fucking vows," You couldn't see anymore, your vision too blurry, but you didn't slow down. "What was I supposed to do other than just be happy for you? Because I had to be a good friend, and I just wanted you to be happy—"

"Y/N—"

You felt the knife close to your finger. "And what if it happens again? Mary Jane is perfect, you two were perfect; maybe one day you'll regret you chose me at the end—" Peter's hand shot out and captured the knife. You closed your mouth and blinked your tears away, your eyes then growing wide, for the blade hung right above your finger.

He moved it to the side and away from your resting hand, his grasp shaky. "I told you you were gonna hurt yourself." He breathed out.

The radio remained barely audible before, almost as if its presence were missing, but as silence overtook the room— heavy, asphyxiating, weighing down on both of you, crushing you with no mercy— it made your skull pulse. You laid the cutting tool back down, your gaze fixed ahead of you.

"My boss laid me off today." You saw through your peripheral vision how his head jerked up. "That's why I got back home early. And why I got the speeding ticket." You revealed, ashamed. Peter gulped, trying to dive to the surface, float in the flooded wreckage you two were trapped in.

"I'm sorry."

"What do you mean? It's not your fault." You looked at him, but it was quick. "And it's not my fault, either. I guess the trip will have to wait longer than we expected." You sadly joked.

He didn't say anything. He simply approached you, slowly and quiet, and soon his arms were around you. You grew weak to his embrace and squeezed him, inhaling deeply, holding back the tears once again that day— you didn't even know, really, you'd lost count. 

The universe wouldn't hand you the quietude you had craved so easily, though, because without warning, Peter began to usher you far from the stove. "Wait, wha—" A bang cut you off and you yelped while Peter unconsciously pulled you closer to him. You heard clinking, a shattering sound as something rained over the floor. You both slowly glanced back, still hugging each other.

"What the hell?" You gasped when you saw the large crack running up the stove top, various small ones branching out from it, and glass littering almost all of your kitchen. Peter's body shook and you stared up at his nervous grin.

"I told you we had the change the stove."

You two began to laugh— not a normal response to your stove exploding, indeed; perhaps it was an odd way to cope with the pain, but Peter ran his fingers through his hair as he chuckled.

"I should've listened." You smiled at him, and your mind turned to mush when he returned the expression.

"Good evening, everyone— I'm sorry to interrupt, I know that tonight is 'only music' night." The music ended and a dopey voice spoke instead; a guy who'd most definitely hit a few too many blunts.

"What kind of station did you chose?" You asked your boyfriend, your face scrunched up. He shrugged, just as clueless as you were.

"I don't know, it was on when I switched on the radio." However, your ears perked up when the man carried on.

"Just in case you haven't watched the news yet, I wanted to tell you to please stay away from Times Square. There's some crazy stuff going on there, man, it's nuts, and the police are arriving on the scene. But..." Peter looked at you, his eyes sad with guilt. Realization hit you like a truck, your heart almost stopping.

It was the final straw.

"No... no, please, Pete." You started to breathe heavily, your lower lip trembling. He held your hands, kissing your knuckles apologetically.

"I'm so sorry." The tears flowed free, and it broke him further.

"Everything's been going wrong today, p-please, I don't want anything bad happening to you." You begged. But he was already leaving the kitchen, and you yelled out a frustrated curse. You ran to the living room, searching for the remote control, then fell to your knees as you saw it under the coffee table, instantly snatching it. You desperately wiggled the remote when it didn't work, but moments later the TV lit up, and you jumped from channel to channel, seeking for the news. You raised your hand up to your mouth, your shoulders shuddering from the horrific footage— the hopelessness, the explosions, the fire. You heard the first siren outside.

You felt a tender hand on your shoulder, the indication of what you feared the most, of the dreaded goodbye lurking in all your nightmares. You were fully submerged into the screen, enough that you hadn't noticed Peter standing behind you. "This was not the night I planned." He said, staring down at the ground. " We were gonna have a nice dinner, maybe even dance like you enjoy to do sometimes, and then... I don't know, but I'm sorry. You deserved it." He confessed, sorrowful and sincere.

You placed your hand on his hard chest, over the spider emblem of his suit. You didn't waste any time and kissed him, a passion different from earlier; different from the arousal, the heat at the pit of your stomach, the goosebumps spreading all over your skin. Now it was just as forceful, just as needy, but it tasted like innocent affection, like a refuge for a terrified child from a spine-chilling thunderstorm, the assurance that the downpour would pass. You cherished every second, the way he clung onto your waist with as much urgency, his breathing as he ended what he hoped was just another kiss and not the last one. It tore you down to nothingness, but it's what you signed up for the moment you fell in love with him, and you truly did not regret it. Never.

Your foreheads rested against each other, your hands trailing up to his shoulders. "Happy two year anniversary." He grinned. You pecked him one last time.

"Happy two year anniversary."

It was the usual routine: he went to the window, putting his mask over his head, not bothering to brush away his hair, and he looked back at you. Stay, you both thought as you followed him. You held yourself back, though, for you knew that if you asked him to, he would. You tugged his mask down, covering his face. "Go save some civilians, Spider-Boy. I love you." His white eyes were wide, taking you in wholly.

"I love you, too."

You undid the button of Peter's suit jacket for the twentieth time in a row, the action a momentary consolation as your eyes lingered on the flat screen; however, your mind drifted away somewhere in the vastness of space, distant from the images and your solitary apartment, revolving around a certain man you couldn't help but worry about. The broadcast should've been enough to relieve your fidgeting and the iciness that ran through your veins, because just like always, the superhero had saved the day, but you wouldn't ease into satisfaction until you had Peter in your arms— safe and sound, alive. That comfort arrived in the form of the window sliding open, and you jumped off your seat, wrapping your arms around your torso, watching as the red and blue figure slipped inside. He closed the window, holding his side, and he removed his mask with a swift motion, strands of hair sticking up while others fell graciously. You repressed the shocked gasp at his appearance; his bleeding and swollen lip, the cut running up his forehead, his nose which now looked just like yours if not a bit worse, and the forming bruise on his cheek.

You ran up to him and hugged him tightly. As gentle as you tried to be, it still hurt, but he didn't voice his pain. "I'm proud of you. You did great." You kissed his shoulder. He mumbled a 'yay!' and you let out a weak laugh, carefully pulling his arm. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

He tugged you back into him, his eyes droopy with exhaustion. "No."

Your eyebrows rose, confusion overtaking your face. "What?"

"Our date is not over yet."

You sucked in a breath, ignoring his ridiculous statement— he'd definitely received a rough blow to his head. "Peter, it's late, you need some rest—"

"Just, please." He urged. "Trust me." He bore his eyes burning with need into yours, frowning.

It was unbelievable, how Peter B. Parker could ask you to dress up as a hot dog and breakdance in the middle of the street and you'd comply, simply because it's what he wanted. You're weak, you told yourself, your hand in Peter's as you strolled down the pathway of the park; although you did force him to sit down and let you patch him up earlier, for only the man thought there was nothing wrong with leaving the house looking like you just came back from the fight club— ‘it's gonna heal soon’, he would whine as the roles reversed and you smoothed the gauze over his nose. He limped slightly while he picked a flower from a bush, another one for the growing collection in his fist, and you groaned loudly.

"Parker, seriously, I wouldn't have minded if we'd stayed back at home. Our anniversary doesn't need to be perfect." You said, expecting it'd knock some sense into him. He remained stubborn, though, inspecting the plants he held.

"Oh man, you said 'Parker', you must be serious." He wore a crooked smile and you narrowed your eyes at him. "Look, the day was far from perfect, so at least I want it to end well."

"I mean, this place is really nice." You acknowledged as you both stopped to admire a cherry blossom tree. Peter glanced sideways at you, his mouth twitching.

"Do you remember when we planned our wedding?"

You looked back at him and you both cringed, laughing after. "Ah, we did that, didn't we?" You crinkled your nose, recalling the night you and Peter lied on your twin bed; surrounded by heavy textbooks and colorful notes with illegible writing, in a haze from all the studying that you two started to make big, naive plans for a distant future, your head on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair.  

"It was cute at the moment, but now that I think back, it was really stupid." He laughed. You swiped away the fallen flowers of the tree with your foot, nostalgia showering over you.

"Yeah... I wonder what sixteen-year-old me would think about thirty-eight-year-old me. Probably would be disappointed. At least she'd be happy I'm with you, though." You admitted softly, your skin prickling. "That's something her and I have in common."

Peter flashed you a half-smile. "Really?"

"Yeah," You grinned back, your eyes darting down to the petals he plucked. "Hey, don't kill it! What did it ever do to you?"

"It looked at me the wrong way." He smiled, shrugging. "I'm just nervous, that's it."

"What, you playing 'does she love me, does she love me not'?" You fluttered your eyelashes, the back of your hand on your forehead. He bit his lip, snickering, but then went poker-faced.

"It's a really serious game, Y/N." Your body lit up with laughter and he moved to face you, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he stared at you. "I want you to know that everything I said back then wasn't a lie. I meant every 'I love you' and promise I made."

You shoved your hands inside the pockets of his suit jacket (you probably should have changed, you realized), shifting your weight from one foot to another. "Pete, I know." You took out one hand to squeeze his bicep. "Forget everything I said earlier, alright? The jealousy just got to me and I said some dumb shit."

He shook his head, his fingers curling around your wrist. "No, but... I really did. And I've been thinking lately th-that maybe things with MJ didn't just work out because I was scared to have kids. I love you, Y/N. It's always been that way."

"Peter..." You rubbed his knuckles with your thumb, your heart glowing. "I love you, too."

"I'm sorry I didn't do this sooner."

You lifted a brow, puzzled. "Do what?" Your confusion dissolved when he dug his hand into his pocket, the color draining out of your face as he revealed a blue velvet box. You took a step back in disbelief, your hand cupping your cheek. "Parker, I swear to God."

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long for this moment." His voice wavered with nerves, the confirmation that this wasn't a sick prank he was pulling— not that he ever would hurt you in such way, anyway, but it was impossible not to feel lightheaded from the shock of witnessing a daydream you'd imagined for so long unfolding right in front of you, to not tremble as you waited for everything to slowly fade away as you woke up from another dream. His touch felt so real, though, so genuine, far from a fabricated illusion created just to satisfy a lurking desolation. "I wish I had known back then— God, I really do. But maybe I did kinda know, because after we discussed the whole dream wedding thing, I proposed to you." He recalled.

You sniffed, smiling. "You said it was practice for when we did get married."

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "It was not romantic at all." You both giggled, the ring he'd made out of a ripped piece of paper present in your memories.

You scanned your own outfit, wishing you'd looked much nicer for the occasion. "I look terrible right now."

"And so do I, but I don't care, because my heart still does that thing when it's the afternoon and you haven't showered yet."

"You're ridiculous."

"I know."

A deep rumble in the sky shook the ground beneath your feet and Peter looked up, letting out an exasperated sigh when droplets of rain pattered down on you. "Yeah, way to ruin the moment, weather. Thanks."

You lifted your hand to cover your face from the light drizzle, miniature beads of water on your eyelashes. "You know we can't afford a wedding right now, right?" You asked him, the corner of your lips tugged upwards.

His cheeks expanded as he let out air through his pressed lips. "I know. We gotta get that new stove."

"Our bed broke."

"Speeding ticket."

"I lost my job."

"You need a new nose." He tapped his own nose, which was a bad idea after he twisted his face in discomfort.

"It's not broken!" You insisted with a gesture of your hand, the corner of your eyes crinkled as you laughed. The rain poured down harder, quickly drenching yours and Peter's hair along with your clothes. Nothing was stopping him anymore, though, and he got down on one knee, audibly still aching from his bruises. Your laughter persisted, but now you hiccuped as well, your eyes red.

"We're not at a beach in Hawaii, but I tried to get the petals at least." When you inspected the ground— purple and red petals messily surrounding you, shriveled from the water— you comprehended the reason for his flower killing spree. You gripped his cold hand, the downpour emitting a shudder from you.

"It really doesn't matter."

"Good, good." He breathed out, more like a reassurance for himself, his own breathing speeding up for he could sense the tears coming as well. "Y/N. I loved you back then. I love you right now... and I'll love you for the rest of my years. It's not an exaggeration, it's the truth. I promise I'm not going anywhere. Not again. So..." He opened the box, and you stared in awe at the golden circlet with the pretty silver diamond.

"Will you marry me?"

You couldn't utter a single word, your throat closed up as you instead nodded fervently. You both beamed at each other, your smiles easily capable of moving worlds and galaxies as he slid the engagement ring onto your finger, his own hands trembling. You didn't give him a chance to stand up— you got down to his level and crashed your lips into his, your mouths slippery from the rain, your appearances far from alluring with his hair clinging to his skin and your mascara trailing down your cheeks. But it was alright. For the first time that day, everything was alright.

[today-we-will-survive]

meet me in the tree house

Moodboard made by @snowflakeu25

BTS au-imagine

Yoongi x Reader Y/N

fluff, romance

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: This was a request from @snowflakeu25 💜

Three knocks on his studio door.

A gruff voice, muffled by the walls enters your ears and you twist the knob and push into the room with your hip since your other hand is preoccupied carrying a shallow box of takeout containers. A boy sits in a computer chair facing a mountain of recording equipment. Speakers jut from the two corners of the ceiling. Three large monitors sit atop the mountain, an expanse of panels, keyboards, knobs and sliders filling the valley below. At the sound of you entering the room, he turns around, his mouth twitching into a quick smirk before his eyes fall to the food in your hands.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey,” Yoongi replies spinning around fully to face the coffee table as you set the box down on its surface.

“Working hard?” you ask and take a seat on the leather couch that sits adjacent to him.

Yoongi stretches, arching his back and raising his arms in the air with a groan. “Always,” he says. “Chinese?”

“You know it.”

The two of you are quiet for a while as you work at getting all of the take out containers open and onto the coffee table. Then you pass him a pair of chopsticks before taking your own pair and grabbing the closest container. You’ve watched Yoongi become a big time producer, his songs winning award after award. You’ve seen him on tv, standing on stages, making speeches, wearing designer clothes and being adored by people that don’t know him.

Yet every Wednesday, you come to Bighit, the security guard giving you a smile and a nod of recognition and you take the elevator up to the fourth floor, carrying take out, walk down that hallway lined with albums that have gone gold and platinum before reaching the studio. And there you find him, in his baggy sweats and baggy shirt, sometimes a beanie to keep his hair out of his eyes and he’d turn and greet you with that same tired smile. He’s never treated you different. He’s never let the fame get to him. Probably because he knows how far of a fall it would be back to the bottom where he started if he were to let it all go to his head.

You moved to the city not long after Yoongi got the job at Bighit. The two of you have been best friends since you were in fourth grade, when he moved into the house next door to yours. He had a tree house in his backyard that you had been eying for a while and when his mom had forced him to come over and ask you to play, you’d been ecstatic to finally be able to see the inside of it. It was as cool as you’d thought it would be, and that was where you’d spend a lot of late nights during the summer.

As you got older, the tree house transformed from a playhouse to a safe house. If your parents were fighting or lashing out at you, you’d send a quick text to him asking him to meet you there. And by the time you climbed up the rope ladder, the hatch would already be open and Yoongi would be waiting for you, his ears open to listen or his arms open to hold you, whichever you needed. Usually, it was both.

Once he moved away after college, there wasn’t much left for you in your small town, so you followed him, getting a job in the city and hanging out whenever he was free. Which wasn’t as often lately.

“So what have you been working on?” you ask before shoving a piece of orange chicken into your mouth.

Yoongi perks up, swallowing his mouthful of food before spinning to face his desk again. “Tell me what you think of this. Then with a couple clicks of his mouse and a press of a button on one of his keyboards, the room fills with music.

You close your eyes so you’re not distracted by anything and listen to the steady rhythm as it builds. After a few measures, Yoongi’s familiar voice starts in, delivering the deep lyrics he’s become so well-known for. You can feel the smile spreading your mouth as you listen, your head automatically bobbing to the beat. You’re really enjoying the song when suddenly it cuts off and you open your eyes to find Yoongi looking at you, his hand poised on his keyboard. You frown.

“What did you stop it for?”

“I just wanted to give you a sneak peek. You can’t hear the whole song until the mixtape is done.”

“Mixtape?” you ask as your smile returns.

Yoongi smiles back and looks down at his hands shyly. “By the way, I’m making a mixtape.

You let out an excited squeal, reaching out to hit his arm over and over, his smile growing bigger with every hit. “Are you serious?” you finally ask when he’s rolled out of your reach. “You’ve been wanting to do a mixtape forever!”

“Yeah,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ve finally gotten some time to work on it so I’ve been kind of messing around, writing some stuff.”

You pick up the container of pork fried rice, poking at it as you shake your head. “I’m really excited for you, Yoongi. It’s going to be amazing.”

“I hope.”

“It will be,” you say. “You’re crazy talented.”

Just then you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket and when you reach for it and look at the screen, you can’t help but smile. The room is silent as you type a response to the message you received.

“Who has the audacity to interrupt our Wednesday night dinner?” Yoongi asks jokingly as he wheels back over and swipes a container off of the coffee table.

You send the message and set your phone onto the table before taking another bite of rice. “Just a guy I’ve been talking to,” you say. “Sorry.”

Yoongi blinks, obviously caught off guard by your response. “Oh, no, it’s okay. I didn’t know you were talking to someone.”

“Yeah,” you say with a shy smile. “I met him at a party last weekend and, I don’t know. We got to talking and now we’ve been texting each other a bit.”

Yoonig lets out a grunt, suddenly very interested in the container he’s holding.

“I don’t know,” you say again. “I think I’m finally in a place to start wanting to date again…you know, after everything that happened with—”

“Y/N,” Yoongi says cutting you off. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about him. I’m glad you’re able to move on now. I’m happy for you.”

You tilt your head as you study your best friend. His words sound genuine but the sentiment doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. “Thanks,” you utter. You hear your phone vibrate against the coffee table and you watch as Yoongi’s gaze falls to it for a split second before focusing back on poking his chopstick into his food.

*

*

Y/N: So Chinese again tonight or something different?

Yoongi: Ive got a lot of work to do tonight. I dont think I can hang out.

Y/N: Oh ok. See u next week then?

Yoongi: Sure.

*

*

Y/N: Hey, did u want to go out tonight instead of me bringing something? Theres a new ramen place I wanted to try.

Yoongi: cant hang out tonight. Busy.

Y/N: …ok. Next week then? I miss u.

Yoongi: Sure.

*

*

Y/N: ok. Im kidnapping u tmrrw night. I kno u dont rlly like going anywhere on Wednesday nights since u hav to work but we havnt hung out in like 3 weeks and I want to take u to see this new horror movie with me. And I kno that telling u Im kidnapping u kind of negates the whole “kidnapping” thing but I kno u dont like surprises.

Yoongi: cant.

Y/N:…really?

Yoongi: Sorry. I have to work.

Y/N: man…ur working a lot lately, arnt u?

Yoongi: its my job, Y/N. Maybe next week.

Y/N: Next week Im going to be back home to visit some family.

Yoongi: oh ok.

Y/N: Whatever, Yoongi. If u dont want to hang out anymor, just say it.

Y/N: Or dont. Whatever.

*

*

Yoongi: hey

Yoongi: Y/N

Yoongi: I know ur mad at me but please respond.

Yoongi: Y/N I was just being an idiot.

Yoongi: Y/N

Yoongi: Please talk to me.

Yoongi: look, I kno ur reading my texts and I kno u probably wont respond but if u end up seeing this, please meet me in the tree house in like twenty minutes. Alright? Thats where Ill be. I need to talk to u.

*

“The tree house?” you utter as you re-read his last text. As in the one at his parent’s house? The one that’s over an hour away from the city the two of you live in now?

You’re at a family dinner at the moment but you’ve all already eaten and now your parents are just talking to your aunt and uncle and though you’re a bit reluctant to actually meet up with Yoongi (since you’re still pretty pissed at him for ditching you for the past three weeks) he’s the perfect excuse for you to duck out early. And you do just that, saying goodnight to your extended family before telling your parents that you have to run but you’ll see them back at home later. Then you head out before anyone can argue.

It’s about a thirty minute drive from the restaurant back to your house. You can’t even bring yourself to pretend to feel bad for making him wait those ten extra minutes wondering if you’re even going to show up. It serves him right. The two of you have been best friends for as long as you can remember and have been doing Wednesday night dinner together ever since he got the job at Bighit. After all this, he decides he’s too busy to hang out? He’s never been too busy. Has the fame finally gotten to his head?

A terrible thought occurs to you as you pull into the driveway at your childhood home. What if he wants to meet you to break things off? To tell you that he doesn’t have time for friends anymore. That you shouldn’t come around anymore because it’s interfering with his work. That he’s outgrown you.

With an angry jerk of the stick shift, you jam your car into park and turn off the engine, yanking the key out. You can already feel yourself getting worked up as you slam the door and stomp across the yard to Yoongi’s house. When you get through the gate and enter the backyard, your eyes trail up to the tree house where it resides in the tall maple in the middle of the lawn. The sun is almost all the way set and the sky is already turning a medium shade of blue. It’s getting dark fast and you can see golden light filtering out of the windows in the tree house. He’s there. Good.

You take a deep breath then make your way up the rope ladder. This was a lot easier when you were younger, and smaller, and you can’t help but wonder how much longer this rope will even hold. With that thought, you scurry up the last few rungs, hoping the whole time that it won’t snap on you. Then, when you poke your head up through the hole, your eyes fall on Yoongi.

He’s laying on his back, hands on his stomach and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. At the sound of your arrival, he turns his head, his gaze locking with yours.

He sits up quickly. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

You back away from the hole in the floor until your spine rests against the wall. “I wasn’t going to but it was an excuse to duck out of dinner early.” You cross your arms. “What are you even doing here, Yoongi?”

Your best friend gets to his feet. “I wanted to talk to you about…everything.”

“Well?”

Yoongi sighs, bringing up a hand to scratch behind his ear. A nervous tick you’ve always thought was a bit endearing. “I guess I just got kind of…jealous.”

Um…

You stand there against the wall blinking for several seconds, not really sure if you heard him right. “Jealous,” you finally say. Yoongi nods. Your brow furrows and you let out a humorless laugh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Big-shot producer, what the heck would you be jealous of?”

As if on cue, your phone chimes in your pocket and Yoongi’s eyes fall to the outline of it against your thigh. You’ve still been talking to that other guy from several weeks ago and now it kind of dawns on you, just what Yoongi is jealous of. The two of you lock eyes again.

“Yoongi…”

The apples of his cheeks dust a light pink, contrasting against his pale mint hair and he shifts on his feet. “No, it’s stupid. I shouldn’t have been like that. Not when I’ve never even told you how I feel. I just wanted you to meet me here so I could tell you that I’m sorry and I want to keep doing our Wednesday night thing and you can text that guy all you want. And I know you don’t need my permission but I’m just letting you know that I won’t be a jerk about this. And I won’t start acting all weird. Date him. Marry him. I’ll still be your best friend as long as you want me to be. And if you don’t, I understand that too because what kind of person freezes their best friend out over another guy? You’re more important to me than that and…Y/N?”

His words finally trail off when he looks up and realizes you’ve been standing there gaping at him the whole time. Your heart is in your stomach and your breaths have become shallow. Are you having a panic attack? Here? In Yoongi’s tree house? In front of Yoongi?

“Y/N?” he asks again.

“What did you say?” you utter.

“What?”

“What did you say?” you ask louder. “Just now. What did you say?”

Yoongi fumbles with his hands for a second, running his fingers through his hair and switching his weight to his other foot again. “Uh…that you’re my best friend?”

“Before that.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Before that.”

“I was being stupid?”

“After that.”

Yoongi bites his bottom lip, the pink in his cheeks becoming darker. “…that I haven’t told you how I feel?”

“Yeah,” you say. “How do you feel, Yoongi?”

“I feel like…” he takes a tentative step toward you, keeping his eyes locked on yours even as the blush spreads down to his neck. “…like I’ve been in love with my best friend for the past five years.” He takes another step toward you. The tree house isn’t very big so even after just these two steps, there’s only about a foot of space between you now. “How do you feel, Y/N?” he asks, his voice much lower than it was before. You peer up at him, heat creeping up your own neck to settle on your cheeks.

“I…uh…I—” your phone chimes in your pocket again and Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath. “Give me two seconds,” you whisper then pull your phone out of your pocket with trembling fingers and check the screen. Yoongi leans in a bit to peek too. “It’s my mom,” you say and you hear him chuckle under his breath. “She wants to know if I want them to pick up ice cream on their way back.”

“Do you?” he asks leaning in more, his dark eyes now drilling into yours. You’d back up if you could but you’re already pressed against the wall.

“Do I what?” you ask him.

He hesitates for just a moment, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “Want ice cream?”

You both know that’s not the question he’s really asking and for a split second, your eyes dart down to his lips. You pull your own into your mouth as you try to conjure up the words. You’re already a flustered mess with this boy so close to you, looking at you the way he is, his body heat radiating across the small space between you.

“Of course I want ice cream. I frikin’ love ice cream.”

The tension in the small space seems to burst as Yoongi falls forward, his head landing on your shoulder and laughter bubbling up out of him. You can’t help but laugh too as you feel his shoulders shake against yours and then he’s wrapping his arms around your waist to keep either of you from tumbling to the floor. The room is filled with your giggling and tears have sprung to your eyes and finally, once the muscles in both of your stomachs are good and sore, he lifts his head back up.

The laughter dies down as the two of you lock eyes again. You watch with bated breath as he reaches up to brush the hair back from your forehead, his fingers sliding down the side of your face and lingering on your jaw. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” he utters.

You don’t even hesitate to nod before he closes the small gap, his lips moulding to yours along with the rest of his body. His one hand tightens on your waist and the other slides to the back of your neck and then he’s tilting his head to kiss you deeper. Of course, then your phone chimes AGAIN causing him to jump back with a small gasp.

“Sorry,” you mumble, your head swimming as you look down at your phone still in your hand. You look back up at Yoongi again. “Flavor?”

Yoongi stands there breathing hard for a second, staring at you as he processes your question. His tongue flicks out of his mouth for just a second. “Chocolate,” he finally says breathlessly.

You type the word as fast as you can, getting frustrated when you keep screwing up, before hitting send and dropping your phone onto the rug. Then you reach out to grasp Yoongi by the shoulders, pulling him to you once again.

*

*

“Just listen to this one,” Yoongi says as he pulls you back down into his lap.

The computer chair creaks under the weight of the two of you and you grip the arms to keep from toppling over. “Yoongi, I have to go. I have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

“Just this last one,” he says and slides the headphones back onto your ears. You’ve tried taking them off for the last five songs but every time you do, he wants you to listen to just one more. This is the last one, I promise.

“Yoongi, you’re really making me seem like a jerk of a girlfriend that doesn’t want to listen to your music.”

“But you do want to listen to my music, right?”

You smile and reach up to touch your palm to his cheek. “Of course, I do,” you say. Yoongi’s mouth lifts into a gummy smile as he nuzzles your hand. “You know I’m your biggest fan.”

“I know,” he says with a contented sigh.

He’s too perfect for his own good. So talented and so soft lately. Yoongi has always been more on the reserved side. Never cold but a bit closed off, even to you. But ever since the two of you talked—if you can even call it that—in the tree house, everything has changed. He’s revealed a different side of himself to you. A softer side. A happier side. You can hear it in his music, too. How happy he’s become.

“Alright,” you say. “Just one more.”

Yoongi claps excitedly before pressing a button on his keyboard and then settling back in under you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his cheek against your arm. He loves watching your expression as you listen to his music. Loves seeing how it affects you, loves seeing the uncensored reaction. He knows you’ll always be honest with him, because you want him to give his best. Besides his colleagues, you’re the only one who’s opinion he trusts.

As you listen, Yoongi starts playing with your fingers, pressing the pads of his own against yours so you mirror his movements, and then when he glances at the screen and sees that the song is almost over, he slides his fingers through the gaps between yours and locks your hand in his. You knew he wouldn’t let you go after this song.

You shake your head until the headphones slip from your ears. “Yoongi,” you say.

“Just one more,” he says quickly and releases one of your hands to pull the headphones back up.

[villainscomplex]

the corner of first and amistad

i can’t believe it rlly took me getting neck deep into haikyuu to yeet my writers’ block smh

Also on:

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Quotev

Wattpad

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Ukai Keishin grows weary of the city.

He’s a country boy at heart, born and raised in a place where he can glance outside and see the stars anytime at night. The crickets sang to him when he jogged through the chilled night air, lungs cold and body warm.

Here, the cacophony of cars keeps him awake at night. People are only polite because they have to be. There’s nothing but the black sky above him, empty of the starlight he’d taken for granted as a kid.

When he’s twenty-two, he moves to the city to make a better life for himself. By the time he’s twenty-six, he’s just tired, in a bone-deep wary sort of way. He takes up smoking a year and a half in. It isn’t as if it’ll kill him any more than this place will, after all.

Sleep seldom comes easy. He turns in around ten every night, but without fail he’ll toss and turn until two or three. After that, he finally gives up and rises again. Sometimes, it’s easy to occupy his mind with the same two late-night television channels until he passes out or the sun comes up. Sometimes, he’s too restless.

Tonight is such a night.

His apartment is on the third floor of the complex. The rent is spiked high for such a dingy, busted place, but it’s barely in his pay range and he’s lived here for the past four years, so it’s home now whether he likes it or not.

Despite the time he’s been here, it hasn’t changed much. It’s the same ratty couch and low table that serves more as a catch-all than anything else. The carpets are stained with things he doesn’t care to question and the occasional bugs aren’t favorable, but at least he hasn’t seen any rats thus far. The appliances are liable to break and there’s been two break-ins at the complex since he’s lived here, but not at his apartment.

The window to the fire escape whines in protest as Keishin shoulders it open. It doesn’t have a particularly good view unless the viewer is fond of brick walls and dark alleyways, but Keishin doesn’t particularly care about his view. He shuffles out in his cotton pajama pants, no shirt, no shoes, bleached hair loose around his face, armed only with his lighter and a single cigarette.

It’s three a.m. and the city is still awake. The cold air bites at his face as he flicks his lighter several times without success, attempting to light his cigarette. Finally, it gives him a feeble enough flame to light the end, and he takes a long inhale. Distantly, he hears the sounds of the cars on the busy streets. There are sirens somewhere in the distance, high and wailing above the blinding lights and dark skies.

He exhales into the chilled air, watching the smoke curl into wisps and fade into the darkness.

Everything feels kind of muted, like he’s the only thing living in this moment, like the city is bearing down on him all at once, softly requesting his humanity in exchange for blinding lights and endless noise and eternal pleasures.

God, he misses the stars. He misses the serenity of the country, even with its mosquitoes and nosy people. It was so easy to forget the world there, in his quiet bubble of serenity.

He shifts from foot to foot in a half-hearted attempt to warm up, exhaling another breath of smoke from between his teeth. He considers, not for the first time, that this is a bad habit he needs to break, but it’s the only thing that never fails to ease him on nights like these.

Keishin snubs the last bit of his cigarette and turns to flick the butt off the railing and go inside, but scuffling sounds and muffled voices give him pause. He watches as two men, hoods flipped up over their heads, wrestle a third into the end of the alleyway. The third man is visibly afraid, even from this distance, short black hair ruffled, glasses askew, and clothes disheveled.

Probably a mugging. They happen commonly in the area. Keishin sighs. It really isn’t his concern, but he’s not a bad person at heart.

He raises his hand to his ear like he has a phone – not that they’ll be able to tell from where he is – and his voice. “Yes, officer? There are two men here attempting to rob someone,” he starts, watching out of his peripherals as the three men down below start, their heads whipping up.

He starts in on the address, but the two would-be robbers have already abandoned their mission and raced out of the alleyway, leaving the third man unceremoniously dumped on the cold concrete.

Keishin watches him stumble back to his feet, seemingly disoriented. He sways a little like he’s been drinking, and then adjusts his glasses and peers up at Keishin properly.

“Oi,” Keishin drawls, finally flicking his forgotten cigarette butt, “it ain’t safe to wander around these parts at this time of night. You stupid or somethin’?”

“I guess so,” the man replies, voice soft and grateful. “Thank you for helping me. I figured it’d be safer to walk intoxicated than drive, but I guess I should have just gotten a cab, huh?”

So he’d hit the nail on the head. Tipsy businessman, probably out drinking with equally irresponsible coworkers. Keishin has a nasty feeling this guy is a magnet for trouble. He looks too nice. With a quiet groan, he drops his head against the cold metal of the railing, debating -- not for the first time, as usual -- his life choices.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters to himself, and then, louder, to the man, “306. You’d better sober up before you get mugged again.”

He doesn’t even pause to wait for a reply, going back inside and shoving the window shut behind him. If the dude decides not to take him up on the offer, it isn’t Keishin’s problem. He’d tried and that’s all he can do.

Suffice to say, he isn’t actually expecting the soft, hesitant knock a few minutes later.

Keishin opens the door and fixes the man with a scrutinizing look. “I was right,” he decides, “you are too trusting. What if I tried to kill you or somethin’, huh?”

Up close, the man is visibly shorter than him and narrow, all messy black hair and wide, brown eyes. His face is scuffed, undoubtedly from the earlier alteration, and tinged red, which Keishin assumes is from drinking.

The man blinks back at him, confused and a little scared. “...You’re not going to murder me, right?”

Keishin snorts and steps out of the way to let him come in. “‘Course not. Murder aftermath sounds like a pain in the ass to handle.”

The man seems a little hesitant, but he shuffles in, nonetheless, and promptly bows at the waist. Keishin jumps.

“Thank you for helping me even though we’re complete strangers!”

Keishin grimaces. “It’s not a big deal,” he says, reaching past the man to shut the door, “you don’t gotta bow or nothin’. Any properly raised person woulda done the same.”

The dark-haired man straightens up slowly, frowning. “Most people here would have turned the other way, I think.”

Maybe so, Keishin thinks, offering out a hand. “Name’s Ukai. Ukai Keishin.”

The man smiles, gentle and warm, taking it. “I’m Takeda Ittetsu.”

After the initial introduction, Takeda settles in on the couch with a cup of water while Keishin starts some tea and puts on a proper shirt. It doesn’t really matter too much anymore since their first meeting isn’t really all that orthodox to begin with, but Keishin has nothing if not some manners.

Takeda seems to be sobering up more or less, but he’s clearly still tipsy enough that he’s a danger to himself on the city streets at this hour. Maybe it’s just Keishin wanting the company, but he thinks Takeda doesn’t seem like he’s in any haste to leave regardless.

They talk some over tea. Takeda tells him he’s a teacher – no, he laughs, when Keishin brings it up, I’m not a businessman in that sense – and he teaches high school literature. He seems all too happy to talk about the antics his students get into.

For the first time in a while, Keishin forgets about the city.

When he wakes in the morning, draped awkwardly on one end of the couch with a blanket over him, Takeda is gone. There’s a note on top of the TV, where Keishin luckily sees it quickly.

It’s a hastily scribbled thank you and goodbye.

Keishin crumbles it up and throws it away, stepping out for another cigarette.

Things return to what Keishin has come to call normal. He doesn’t think about Takeda Ittetsu or the brief warmth that had come into his shitty apartment the moment the teacher had crossed the threshold. He works, he comes home, and repeat. Occasionally, he goes to the gym. Generally, sleep evades him.

“Keishin,” his mom says over the phone, days later, her voice hardly audible over the bustle of people on the sidewalk, “you’re twenty-six already. Haven’t you found a nice girl yet? You’ll be thirty before you know it and then it’ll be much harder for you!”

He’s watching the traffic light impatiently, waiting for it to change so he can cross. The walk sign on the opposite end seems to be taking its sweet time, though. Keishin just wants an excuse to get off the phone.

“Ma,” he sighs, “I already told you, it’ll happen when it happens. I don’t have time for a relationship right now, anyway.”

It’s the easiest thing to tell himself. The light finally signals for them to walk, and Keishin hurries across the street with the rest of the crowd. A man jars him from the side and he nearly drops his phone. Instinctively, he checks his pockets and-- Sure enough, his wallet is gone.

“Ma, I gotta go,” he grumbles, hanging up as he shoves through the people after the man. God, he’s not in the mood for this today.

The man breaks into a run the moment he realizes he’s being pursued and Keishin races after him. His wallet is the last thing he can afford to lose, and of course the one day he forgot his chain is the day he gets pickpocketed.

“Oi!” He shouts, irritated and exhausted, shouldering through people. At this rate he’ll get--

He watches the guy suddenly eat shit, feet coming right out from him.

--away.

Huh. Keishin slows to a stop and yanks the guy up by his collar, snatching his wallet back with a snarl. The man has a bloody nose from hitting the concrete so hard, and Keishin can’t help the little sting of pleasure from the karma.

“Oh, no,” says another voice from behind him, “I didn’t mean to make him hurt himself! I just meant for him to trip up a little, but he was going so fast-”

Keishin turns around. Takeda Ittetsu stands behind him, looking distressed out of his mind and suspiciously like he’s close to panicking. Keishin puts the pieces together. Takeda’s presence, the man abruptly wiping out.

“Did you… trip him?” He asks slowly.

Takeda straightens up when he’s addressed, gaze darting to Keishin’s, and then away again. “I, um. I saw you chasing him a-and he reminded me of those two from that night I almost got mugged and I just… reacted?”

Keishin drops the man in favor of howling with laughter. He barely even notices when the almost thief scrambles away. “Damn!” He laughs, slapping Takeda on the back so hard that the man stumbles and his glasses slide halfway down his nose. “I didn’t know you had it in ya, sensei!”

Takeda fixes his glasses, glancing up at Keishin. “Neither did I.”

He finds out Takeda had been waiting for a taxi to head home. He’s got a bag full of books over his shoulder. Keishin’s admittedly a little surprised – in a place like this, running into someone twice by coincidence isn’t a very easy feat. He hadn’t thought for a second he’d meet Takeda again.

“I was on my way to get groceries,” Keishin tells him, “so it woulda been a pain in the ass to lose my wallet. Normally, I have a chain for it, but I completely forgot to attach my new one after my old one broke.”

“Oh,” Takeda’s eyebrows rise, “that’s a really good idea. I didn’t think about a chain.”

“Can ya even wear one as a teacher?”

Takeda considers this. “No,” he finally admits, “probably not.”

“You’re doomed,” Keishin remarks, patting the other man’s shoulder. “In any case, thanks for your help with that. I’d better be off.”

“Oh, wait!” Takeda scrambles after him. “Let me thank you properly for the other night.”

“Huh? I think you’ve definitely repaid me plenty just now.”

“At least let me treat you to drinks or something,” Takeda persists.

Keishin gets the feeling this guy is a very, very stubborn person. He frowns a little at the determined furrow between Takeda’s wide eyes and the little, persistent downward curl of his mouth.

In hindsight, this is the exact moment Ukai Keishin could have pegged himself as screwed.

“Fine,” he sighs, “but not alcohol. I’ve seen firsthand how you handle that. Coffee or somethin’ is fine.”

Takeda visibly brightens. “Great! When works for you? I don’t have any other plans today, and tomorrow is Sunday so I’m off too, but during the week I’m not done until about three if I'm lucky…”

Keishin considers the fact that this sounds suspiciously like a date, but ah, what does he know? He hasn’t been on a date since he was twenty. Besides, he barely knows this guy.

“We can go now,” he replies, deciding it’d be best to get it out of the way immediately, “I can do my grocery shopping later.”

Takeda takes him to a small cafe near the local dog park. It’s a little more out of the way, and Takeda offers to pay for a cab, but ultimately they end up walking there. Takeda is naturally a slow person, but he tries to speed up and Keishin tries to find a middle ground for them.

It’s only a little successful.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Keishin says as they arrive, opening the door, “I’ve been working at the same convenience store since I moved here four years ago. It’s not the worst. I work at this hole-in-the-wall flower shop, too.”

The bell overhead jingles to announce their arrival. One of the employees calls out a greeting as the two men join the short line. Keishin eyes the menu.

“Well, that just means you’re committed, doesn’t it?” Takeda asks. “I didn’t take you as the flower type. Do you enjoy it?”

Keishin assumes that’s short for you look like a thug, but he takes it in stride. It's not the first time someone had that impression of him. He shrugs noncommittally at the question. He does enjoy gardening, but doing any enjoyable thing for money tends to suck the joy out of it, so he’s not really sure how to answer that. Besides, they’re at the front of the line.

“Get whatever you want!” Takeda tells him.

Keishin ends up getting a medium coffee, nearly black, and dumplings. The dumplings are surprisingly good – a compliment coming from someone as picky as him – and Takeda looks a little terrified at the idea of his nearly black coffee, having gotten a disastrous, caramel loaded abomination himself.

They don’t stay, but they don’t go their separate ways. The dog park is only a little busy, so they sit on a bench nearby, watching some of the dogs playing around. Keishin likes dogs, but he definitely doesn’t have time for those, either. He’d hate to get one and have it on its own most of the time.

“I love dogs,” Takeda voices his thoughts, “but my apartment complex doesn’t allow them.”

“Mine does,” Keishin says, taking a drink of his coffee, “but I don’t really have time or the means to take care of one right now.”

His phone rings again in his pocket. Takeda glances sideways at him as he fishes it out and glances at the caller ID. It’s his mother, probably annoyed after he’d hung up on her earlier. Keishin doesn’t want to deal with it right now, so he ignores the call and mutes his phone.

“You aren’t going to answer it?” Takeda asks tentatively.

“Nah,” Keishin shakes his head, “it’s my ma. She’s just harassing me about my love life, s’all. I ain’t even thirty and she’s tryin’ real hard to make me get married as soon as possible.”

Takeda pauses. “How old are you?”

Keishin grins sideways at him. “Awfully forward, ain’t you?” He asks, and when Takeda looks apologetic, he continues, “I’m kidding. I’m twenty-six.”

Takeda pauses, drink to his lips. “Wait,” he says, “you’re younger than me?”

Keishin’s eyebrows rise. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-nine,” Takeda says.

Keishin snorts, nearly chokes, and then doubles over laughing. “Damn, really? I thought you were my age or a little younger! I guess it makes sense with you bein’ a teacher and all, but you definitely don’t look like you’re almost thirty.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Takeda admits.

“I wonder,” Keishin remarks, downing his coffee.

They watch the dogs a while longer, but inevitably, Keishin needs to leave. He has to get his shopping done, get home, and go to his night shift at the store. Takeda looks as though he wants to say something more, but ultimately, they say their goodbyes and go their own ways.

Keishin puts Takeda Ittetsu in the back of his mind again, convinced that he’ll more than likely never run into the man again.

Fate has a funny way of proving him wrong, he supposes.

He takes Takeda for a rational person, but this time might just prove him wrong. Keishin stares down at the unsteady dark-haired man, frowning. He’s not sure why Takeda ended up here again, drunk again, but here he is, dressed down in a blue sweater and missing his glasses at eleven at night. He squints back at Keishin, smiling a little lopsidedly.

“Why are you here?” Keishin finally asks.

Takeda beams. “We’re friends! I wanted to see you! Also, I think my coworker has my house keys,” he slurs.

On god, this man was going to be the death of him. Keishin sighs, but he moves out of the way to let Takeda stumble in and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t bother with a shirt this time.

“Please don’t throw up on my carpet. There’s too many weird stains as is.”

Takeda hears him, he assumes, watching as the teacher locates the bathroom very rapidly on his hands and knees. Keishin starts some tea again. When Takeda returns, he drops down on the couch and burrows underneath the blanket that had been abandoned there, groaning softly.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles, when Keishin nudges him to hand over the tea.

Keishin watches his head resurface from beneath the blanket, still squinting and hair even messier. He isn’t sure how Takeda is this bad at holding his alcohol, or why he keeps doing it despite knowing he’s bad, but Keishin isn’t really one to judge. Besides, he’s still thinking about the whole we’re friends thing Takeda had dropped on him at the door.

Are they friends? He doesn’t want to dwell on that too long.

“It’s fine,” he waves it off. “Drink that and get some rest. You can worry about everything else in the morning.”

He rises from his crouch and crosses to the kitchen to clean up some. Takeda only finishes half the tea before he’s out cold on the couch. Keishin fixes the blanket over him and shuts the lights off, locks the door, and retires to his room.

Sleep evades him.

He spends the first hour staring at the ceiling. When this grows painfully boring, he rolls over to check his phone. TV isn’t an option tonight with Takeda sleeping in the living room, but clearly he isn’t going to be getting much sleep tonight himself. At two, he finally caves and rolls back out of bed.

Keishin slinks quietly into the living room and grabs his new lighter and box of cigarettes off the table, creeping to the window and carefully shuffling it open. Mercifully, it doesn’t squeal this time.

Keishin slides out onto the fire escape, sitting on the outside windowsill so he can listen if Takeda wakes. His new lighter produces a flame immediately, and Keishin lights a cigarette, putting it to his lips. The sting of smoke is familiar, as disgusting as it is. Really, he needs to stop depending on this habit.

There are sirens somewhere in the distance again.

“Ukai?” Takeda’s groggy voice floats from inside the apartment.

“Did I wake ya?” Keishin asks, glancing back.

“No,” Takeda blinks back at him from the couch, squinting to see. “Why are you awake?” “I couldn’t sleep.”

Keishin exhales another breath of smoke and Takeda wrinkles his nose.

“That’s a bad habit,” he says softly. “Do you do this often? Come to think of it… It was the same situation when we met, wasn’t it?”

Yes, Keishin thinks, but he doesn’t reply out loud. Things have changed since then. Not just for him in particular, but for both of them as a whole. Back then, Takeda had just been a complete stranger that Keishin had saved out of the goodness of his upbringing, if not his heart. He takes another drag and exhales into the chilled night air. Goosebumps prickle over his exposed torso.

He can feel Takeda’s gaze on his back.

“Oi, sensei,” he says into the air, “you’re a good person. Stay that way, yeah? You gotta be careful 'round here. City like this'll eat your humanity.”

“Ukai,” Takeda asks softly. “Why do you make yourself suffer like this? You’re a good person, too.”

Keishin takes a long drag of his cigarette. For a moment, he considers not answering. It would make it easier. He could just finish his cigarette and go to sleep. Takeda probably isn’t going to remember any of this in the morning anyway.

But he finally exhales.

“I stopped focusing on what made me happy,” he breathes, “it makes life a lot easier.”

He almost misses Takeda’s whisper.

“Not from where I stand.”

Keishin leans back on his hands, cigarette in between his lips and gaze fixed on the starless sky. It's lonely.

“...Go to sleep, Takeda.”

In the morning, there’s another hastily scribbled note. Ukai, it reads, I’m so sorry about my state last night. Thank you again for letting me stay.

There’s a phone number at the bottom in lieu of a signature. Keishin plugs it into his contacts.

Somehow, slowly, Takeda Ittetsu slowly becomes a cornerstone of Keishin’s life. They see each other frequently and text even more. Keishin gets scolded about his phone more than once at work and he feels like he’s a teenager again. Takeda visits often and somehow makes a home in Keishin’s shitty little place, and sometimes Keishin goes to his own cramped apartment, simple and flower-filled and very much Takeda.

But somehow, Takeda ends up back at Keishin’s house every time he goes drinking without fail.

It occurs to Keishin, one night, when a half sober Takeda is slung over the arm of his ratty couch, hunched over a trash can, that Keishin isn’t so tired of the city anymore. He misses home certainly, but in the near year he’s known Takeda now, he’s become more at ease. It’s easier to breathe now.

“Oi,” he knocks a glass of water lightly against Takeda’s head.

Takeda looks up, glasses disheveled, hair messy, and eyes glazed over. He’s in various states of disarray, but even under the dim lighting of the apartment, there’s something so brilliant about him that Keishin thinks he might be a little in love.

Takeda shifts to sit a little more upright and curls his fingers around the cup of water, but Keishin doesn’t quite let go. Takeda squints at their overlapped hands.

“You don’t work weekends,” Keishin states more than asks, “so come back home with me this weekend.”

Takeda frowns unsteadily. “But we are at your house.”

Keishin releases the cup. “No,” he says, “home. Back in the country.”

“Oh,” says Takeda, but then he puts the cup to his lips and doesn’t reply.

Keishin wakes in the morning to Takeda sitting on the kitchen counter, a cup of hot tea in his hands and a pensive expression resting on his features. He’s a little surprised because even now, Takeda is usually gone by the time he gets up, having left a note or a text. He’s still in some sort of state of disarray, though he looks as though he’d made an attempt to clean up.

“Morning,” Keishin greets, bending to dig through the refrigerator.

“Good morning,” Takeda replies absently, frowns, and then continues, “Ukai, did you mean what you said yesterday?”

Keishin glances up in confusion. “'Bout what?”

“Me- Me coming back… home with you?” He won’t meet Keishin’s eyes.

“Ah, I didn’t think you’d remember that,” Keishin admits. “I guess. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing, so you don’t gotta worry about it if you don’t wanna. Figured it might be nice to have a break, s’all.”

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“Okay,” Takeda repeats, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I’ll come.”

Keishin grins crookedly. “Okay.”

So they go.

Keishin had already taken the weekend off, having planned to go home this weekend anyway. Sometimes, a break is just a good change of pace, even if he's finally gotten himself in a good state of mind in the city. They leave in the late afternoon, after Takeda is finished at the school, and head straight to the train for the long ride ahead.

It’s dark by the time they arrive, and Takeda is out cold, leaning heavily against Keishin. He nudges the other man awake and guides him out of the train. Takeda’s awake the moment the cold air hits his face. It’s even colder here than in the city since it’s further north, but it’s more open for the wind as well.

“Wow,” Takeda breathes, and for a moment, Keishin isn’t sure what he’s talking about.

He follows Takeda’s gaze up and his breath steals away in a manner that he’d nearly forgotten. The stars blanket the sky above them, brilliant little pinpricks of light across the expanse of swirling darkness, flickering and blinking down at the earth. The more rational part of him knows they’re nothing impressive, nothing more than massive balls of gas billions of miles away from them, but it does nothing to diminish the fact that he’s desperately missed the sight of them.

“I’ve seen stars in theory,” Takeda says, “but I’ve lived in cities my whole life. I’ve never… seen them in person.”

Keishin smiles. “Trust me, it’s not a sight you’ll ever get tired of.”

Takeda gazes at him then, and Keishin isn’t sure what he sees in the other man’s eyes.

He apologizes in advance, later, for his parents. His mother is, as expected, overbearing, but nonetheless excited that Keishin has a friend to bring home. She gives him a curious little sidelong look that he pointedly ignores.

They crash as soon as they hit the pillows. Saturday blows by in a whirlwind of meeting up with old friends and getting back to old hobbies. Keishin remembers the stings of a volleyball on his hands as surely as he’d been in high school. Setting is still second nature. Takeda watches from the sidelines, eyes wide and attention rapt, and if Keishin shows off a little for his sake, nobody says anything about it.

“There’s one more place,” Keishin says, as the sun dips below the horizon later that evening, “I always went there as a teen. It should still be fine, I think.”

It’s just nearing the end of the autumn, in any case, so he thinks it should still be around. The weather is getting colder every day. Keishin absently drapes one of his two scarves around Takeda’s shoulders and takes the lead into the back parts of town where he’d run wild as a boy.

They crest a hill, breath forming white clouds in the chilled night air, and sure enough, red cloaks the tree-dotted area on the other side. Spider-lilies. Takeda gasps at the crest, gazing down in awe even as Keishin carries on, picking his way towards the central cove.

“I loved it here in high school,” Keishin admits, “I got into gardening for a while over it, but that ain't easy in the city, so it kinda fell to the wayside.”

"Is that why you work at the flower shop?" Takeda asks.

Keishin hums noncommittally. "Maybe."

He drops rather unceremoniously into a slightly emptier patch and lays on his back, staring at the sky. Takeda carefully sits beside him, tucking his knees up for warmth. The ground beneath them is cold, and Keishin knows the flowers won’t be alive for much longer.

“I always came here to stargaze. I’d sit for hours. It was kinda a safe haven, I guess.”

He looks to Takeda, expecting him to be looking at the sky, but to his surprise, the man’s dark eyes are fixed on him, glittering in the darkness like they’re reflecting the starlight itself. Keishin’s heart does a funny little thing in his chest, something he’s started to become comfortable with associating with Takeda.

“Ukai,” Takeda says, voice soft, as if he’s afraid of being heard, lips parted and one hand raised like he’s going to reach out.

“Aw, man,” Keishin tells him, “don’t look at me like that. I don’t know if I can stop myself, then.”

“Then don’t,” Takeda whispers, leaning in to meet Keishin’s mouth halfway.

His mother gives him another knowing look when he smiles privately at Takeda the next morning, but he pretends, once again, not to notice.

--

“In hindsight,” Keishin tells him, years later, when they’re thirty-two and thirty-five, living together with two dogs, five years into their relationship and counting, “I think you started a lot of the changes in my life that I ended up desperately needing.”

Ittetsu laughs as he rolls over, tucking his arm around Keishin’s waist. “You should learn to listen to your elders better!”

Keishin snorts. “I don’t have to take shit from a cradle robber like you.”

“Cra-?!”

Ittetsu sputters indignantly, and Keishin howls with laughter. Five years ago, he’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to laugh so freely.

Nowadays, he can’t even imagine living how he had before. Maybe when autumn comes around again, he’ll take Ittetsu back to the spider-lily field. Maybe he’ll buy a ring this time.

“I think I should save pretty teachers from getting mugged in alleys more often, don’t you?”

[borhapstyles]

Headcanon: First Date with Ben

HEY so it’s my spring break and i’m back temporarily :) i hate saying temporarily but i know that once school starts again i’m never gonna have time to breathe lol but i’d like to think school is temporary, writing for you guys once summer hits will be the real thing <3 

this wasn’t requested but as a starter, i’ve written this headcanon :) sorry if it’s shit, haven’t written in a while so i’m a little rusty. i hope you like the ending though, i certainly do. 

**this is going off the “Meeting Ben” headcanon I wrote a while back xx

“so uhm…”

“yes?” you giggled, brows raised as Ben swallowed harshly

“i-i was wonderin’ if you’d like to go on a date with me.. sometime..?”

“is this not a date?” 

then Ben’s cheeks went red, even more so than they were before

because like

he had been waiting for the right time to ask you on a date since he followed you into that cafe

how was he supposed to know he was gonna spend the next two hours talking to you in that back table

but you looked so lovely underneath the fairy lights of the cafe

and he adored the rose tint on your cheeks whenever you subtly dropped in your love for Queen

that’s another thing, he loved your taste in music

i mean, it’s a given that you liked Queen because of Bo Rhap

but when he learned of all the other bands / artists you loved, he kinda sorta just wanted to kiss you right there

he should’ve

anyways

“n-no, i mean, like a proper date, not that this can’t be considered one, but-”

“i’m joking, i’d love to” you cut him off, more laughs spilling from your mouth

and then you and Ben set a date, a time, and after he insisted on picking you up, you finally let him

the day of, he showed up with your favorite flowers which uh

u didn’t tell him what ur favorite flowers were

he uh.. kinda found out through instagram stalking

he didn’t specifically stalk you

but Joe did

Ben mentioned you to Joe and Joe was quick to find your account

(let’s pretend it’s on public if it’s not)

“oh she’s on public, this is gonna be fun” Joe said to Ben while they were hanging out the next night

“she is?!” Ben jumped over and

for a moment he wanted Joe to like.. stop because he kinda felt weird doing it

but i mean

he also was super super curious to see your posts and kinda also wanted to see more of ur face

so he went along with it

“she might even be funnier than I am” Joe said when he went over one of your captions

“I couldn’t stop laughing when I was with her, she’s hilarious” Ben gushed

“oh wait, what’s that one?” Ben made Joe stop scrolling to click on one of ur pics

it was of u and your friend’s dog

with the caption “don’t tell (your friend’s name) but i’m stealing her dog forever sorry”

“she likes dogs” Ben whispered to himself, a smile on his face as he imagined you with Frankie 

that’s when Joe stopped and looked at his friend

“you’ve known her for a total of 30 hours and yet i’ve never seen anyone do this to you.. you really like her, don’t you?”

Ben sighed, he didn’t want to let himself get so deep so quickly but

there was something about all this that just felt so easy, like it’s come into place

and something about you that made him feel as if he’s known you his whole life even if you had never been to england before meeting him

so Ben just smiled and nodded, hoping he wouldn’t get his heart broken with all the risk he’s taking

and they continued scrolling till Ben got a text from … 

surprise surprise, you 

and completely forgot Joe was there for a moment 

“oh by the way, just so you know, her favorite flowers are…” Joe told him before leaving

“how do you know?”

“her instagram, which, if your elderly ass would bother to learn a little more about, is a great app”

so anyways when Ben showed up with your favorite flowers u were happy and he was happy that u were happy

but also lol because you were staying in an airbnb and didnt rlly know where to put the flowers down

aaaannnywaaaays 

then you two drove out into beautiful London 

the night life was buzzing with Londoners and tourists alike and you couldn’t be happier to be in such a city

much less next to Ben, who if a week ago someone told you you’d be with him 

u might punch them for playing with your feelings

but here you are

“you see that building? that’s Abbey Road studios”

“so much history here, I think I’m in love”

when Ben finally stopped driving

you two were in front of a rather tall building somewhere in the financial district

Ben rushed to your side to open the car door

“can i ask where we are now?” you laughed and Ben chuckled as he finally told you

and he made sure to open the door for you on your way in

im convinced chivalry is still alive and comes in the form of ben hardy 

and u two rode the elevator aaallll the way up 

then you two went through a couple other doors

and then eventually you were met by a host who checked you guys in

then you were led outside

let’s say it summer by the way so you guys arent freezing when u go out

it’s a rooftop area, with outdoor furniture and plants decorating the area

fairy lights strung around the pergola, soft gentle music in the background

there’s a few other couples having dinner but it’s peaceful and everyone’s rather into each other so you know no one’s eyes will be wandering

but your favorite part of the whole thing

was that you could see the entire london skyline from your position, with a table in the perfect spot so no one was blocking the view

“what d’ya think? i-is it too much?” Ben asked shyly as you hadn’t said anything 

but you were in love with the place, your heart filled with joy

“it might be too early to say that this is the best date i’ve ever been on but i will, if that gives you any idea for how i’m feeling” 

as the dinner progressed, any nerves you felt coming in vanished

as did Ben’s

it felt natural, comfortable, meant to be

and when Ben reached over to hold your hand across the table

part of you never wanted him to let go, even if it made it a little harder to eat

in any case, he himself never quite wanted to let go either

with you, he wasn’t Ben Hardy, actor. he was just Ben

and he felt like he could be anyone he wanted to be around you

he loved that even if you were a fan, you never made him feel like he needed to take on the actor-persona he had 

in fact part of you forgot he was even an actor when you asked him if he had met anyone famous 

which made Ben laugh and your cheeks go red 

but Ben slipped up too lmao

“so I heard you like dogs?”

“...yes but...from.. who..”

then his cheeks got red as he had to carefully explain how him and Joe didnt stalk you on instagram but stalked you on instagram basically 

celebrities, they’re just like us

that’s when you laughed

which made Ben realise he could hear you laugh all day and never get tired of it

and never get tired of your smile

something about your twinkling eyes when you spoke about your friends and family back home

and about all your passions, ridiculous and not so ridiculous

u may or may not have let him in on your love for Queen, even more so than in the cafe

and u kinda forgot he was in Bo Rhap for a hot minute

but he was amused, he loved seeing you speak about something so close to your heart

and felt proud to be part of it

all in all Ben felt a feeling he hadn’t experienced in quite a long time, if ever in his life

a feeling of completion, of relief

as if he had been waiting his whole life to meet you

and so he continued listening to your rant about how much you love Freddie and JIm together

watching as you blushed and apologised profusely for going on about them

“don’t be sorry, i wished we could’ve had more of them in the film as well. and i love hearing your opinions on them, i love hearing you talk about it all. it makes me more and more fortunate to have been part of it”

“well i have much more to say about anything Queen related if you’re interested”

“then i’m always here to listen for when you do wanna speak about them” 

when dinner finished, you and Ben decided to postpone driving you back 

you two walked around the city more and eventually made it to a little park just up the road

your hand in his, humming ‘39 by your favorite band

Ben smiled to himself as he realised you felt the same comfort around him as he did with you

and so the months went on, date after date with Ben

till you found yourselves on your one year anniversary, walking around the same park you two had gone through on your first date

“do you remember when we first came here?” he asked

“of course, it’s when I realised I love loved you and was basically fucked”

“why’d you say you’re fucked?” he laughed

“i mean, i was like, oh god i’ve scared him by talking about my obsession with Queen and he actually knows them and he’ll tell them and Brian and Roger will think i’m crazy and he won’t ever date me again after this and all i can do now is hum ‘39 and hope he won’t block me on instagram after this” 

Ben cackled

“that’s not at all what i was thinking, i hope you know that”

“well obviously” you rolled your eyes

“d’ya wanna know what i was thinking?” 

“hm”

“I was actually thinking of Freddie while we were walking around”

“same”

“no, i’m serious” Ben chuckled 

“why were you thinking of Freddie then?” you giggled, squeezing his hand a little tighter

“well, if I was just going in my head about how if it wasn’t for him there would’ve have been Queen, wouldn’t have been a Bo Rhap, I never would’ve been in anything like it, and I might not have met you then because of it”

“i don’t like thinking about that” you muttered, leaning your head into his side

“really though, it’s mad how much he’s influenced all our lives in a good way” he stopped walking, you standing below him with curious eyes batting at him 

“i guess we have Freddie to thank then for bringing us together” you said before pecking his lips

and then you two stood there for a moment, your head pressed against his chest as you listened to his heartbeat

that’s when Ben looked down at you in his arms, then up into the starlit sky and whispered; 

“thank you, Freddie” 

[wickerjulias]

11 questions game

i was tagged by @jasonvtodd. thanks a lot em ❤

Rules: Answer the 11 questions you’ve been asked, nominate 11 other bloggers, ask your nominees 11 questions, let them know you’ve nominated them!

1. 24hrs till the end of the world… you can get to any place, to any person in an instant though.. where do you go, who do you see.. and why? phew we’re starting w a tough one i see akdfshkjsad i guess i would visit my internet friends first, esp bc i haven’t met a lot of them in person. then i’d grab my clostest friends, my sister and my cousin (w plus ones) and visit an adventure park. or a concert of our fav bands. or both. whatever makes them smile.

2. zombie apocalypse, who do you have on your team (rl buddies or fictional, your choice mates) teresa and jenny from work, my sister, my friends. between the bunch of us i think we’d come up w some pretty amazing ideas. plus, we have like 4 trained chefs in the team and someone who studied biology. (my fictional pick would be john wick and the gang from the magicians - a lot of chaos, but we’d have a solid chance)

3. five must read before you die books (or comics if you want) - runemarks by joanne harris - six of crows by leigh bardugo - the song of achilles by madaline miller - american gods by neil gaiman - the thief lord + inkheart by cornelia funke (couldn’t decide, sorry)

4. if you had the power to time travel to any point in history, where would you go and why? aaaaaah don’t ask me that, i’m historian. i’d split my body in so many pieces akjdfhskja my first instinct was to answer this question w the roman antiquity tho. i’d love to have a look around and see what the forum romanum (and other historic cities/buildings/sites etc.) used to look like. also to ancient mesopotamia bc heck yes!! 

5. one thing you’ve done this year that you’re proud of? i mean, i didn’t directly do it, but i got promoted to deputy manager of the cinema i work at. which is like!! wow my boss rlly trusts me that much, huh? (or the 8 exams i wrote at the beginning of this year. i didn’t ace all of them, but i passed all of them and that’s what counts)

6. what’s something everyone loves, but you think is very overrated? that’s tough to answer. mostly it’s v popular artists on here. but that’s probably bc the music i listen to differs that much from the one everyone on tumblr seems to love. (i’m not gonna dive into which characters are overrated em, i wanna live - if you wanna know tho hmu and i’m gonna hit you w the salt)

7. going to get real controversial here (how you answer this, will possibly end our mutual engagement…) … pineapple on pizza… should it be on there? ... people who enjoy eating pinapple on pizza eat children (kidding, but that’s what my sis and i tell her bf when he mentions pinapple on pizza). i don’t really like ham on pizza to beginn with, and the combination with pineapple makes me go :/ so it’s a no from me

8. whats an album that is your ride or die? (or artist/band) i’m gonna name 3 bc that’s how indecisive i am. so here goes: - true view by stick to your guns - this album is an experience through and through and their texts are always amazing. you’re basically discovering yourself. plus, the reach for me: forgiveness of self is the most healing song ever - billy talent iii by billy talent - this is the album that made me fall in love with them and with going on concerts. i remember rusted from the rain playing on mtv and me saying: “i like this song.” my papa was kinda shocked, bc: “you listen to that kind of music?!” (right up to this moment i only ever listened to the jonas brothers, ashley tisdale etc.) - the sufferer and the witness by rise against - while it doesn’t include the first song of theirs i ever listened to, it features ready to fall and prayer of the refugee. two songs i love so much, i don’t even have words for it. they were my first open air concert ever and the first time i came close to a mosh pit lmao

9. apple or android? why. android. i only ever had android phones. i feel like the interface is more userfriendly and android phones don’t tend to break when you look at them the wrong way. but i’m not a fan of samsung either. very happy w my huawei lmao 

10. advice you’d give to your past self at a time when you were struggling? take a deep breath and stay calm. look up to the stars at night and let them root you. the universe is listening and everything will work out the way it should. don’t try to do everything at once. small steps lead to your goal as well. (i still don’t have a solid advice for middle school when i was bullied but: you won’t be in this situation forever, you’ll meet so many great people who love you for the person you are. be yourself, even if it’s hard. you’re more than their cruel jokes. so much more.)

11. something you’re looking forward to? the impericon festival on april 19. i’m gonna see stick to your guns again, plus so many other great bands are gonna be there!! and i’m really looking forward to my trip to prague w my sister and two friends. it’s gonna be super amazing!!

nominating: @rizanmed, @vvondervvomaan, @edenforest, @austens, @feedingmyinsomnia, @zacksnyder, @benjiduun, @takingoffmyshoes, @canardroublard​, @deducitetemporacarmen and @stvrklight

MY QUESTIONS

1. if you could have any pet (exotic or not), which one would you pick and why? 2. you’ve won a trip to a country of your chosing. where do you go to and what do you want to do there? 3. which skill(s) would you love to have? 4. if you chould choose any fictional character to be your mentor, who would you pick and why? 5. you get recruited to a ragtag team of heroes (any setting - fantasy, sci fi etc.). what’s the skill that gets shown in your introduction (video)? 6. what is your favourite folktale from the country you live/were born in? 7. which fantasy creature or cryptid would you love to watch or study? 8. which song(s) would be in a movie about your life? 9. top five ways to insult someone in your native language? 10. which movie would you love to watch at the cinema (again)? 11. what is the most relaxing sound you can think of?

[res-hippie]

get-to-know-me survey

1: Name: noor 3: 3 Fears: being burned alive, buried alive, heights  4: 3 things I love: tv shows, books, nature 5: 4 turns on: humor, kindness, not insecure, dependable/reliable 6: 4 turns off: rudeness, arrogance, treating ppl based off appearance, idk just talking down to someone 8: Sexual orientation: straight, unfortunately 11: What do I miss: being happy 12: What time were I born: sunrise 13:��Favorite color: light orange/peach 14: Do I have a crush: Jack Whitehall 😍 15: Favorite quote: anything by sylvia plath 16: Favorite place: in nature, on a rainy day 17: Favorite food: Indian street food 18: Do I use sarcasm: not really 19: What am I listening to right now: hindi songs 20: First thing I notice in new person: the way they look at me, their attitude 21: Shoe size: unreasonably small 22: Eye color: warm brown :) 23: Do I like roller coasters? God no, I have motion sickness 🤮 24: Favorite style of clothing: 70s, mini skirt, fitted tops, color block sweaters, ie: jackie burkhart, sumtimes fran fine 27: Meaning behind my URL: none, it just sounded cool 28: Favorite movie: the prestige, eternal sunshine of a spotless mind 29: Favorite song: alors danse by stromae, she'll be loved by maroon 5, 30: Favorite band: imagine dragons  31: How I feel right now: unhappy 32: Someone I love: me 33: My current relationship status: imaginary 34: My relationship with my parents: unhealthy, non-existent 35: Favorite holiday: christmas 36: Tattoos and piercing i have: simple, ears 37: Tattoos and piercing i want: oof😍 nose piercing on left side in which i would insert a small silver hoop, more on my ears at least 2 or 3 (double helix) [maybe one cartilage and maybe a tattoo of a small leaf or something somewhere] 38: The reason I joined Tumblr: it looked fun 39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? yes and no 40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? lol no, I'm not sure if i would want them, seem like a nuisance 42: When did I last hold hands? with myself? 50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? Yeah probably 51: How often do I wear a fake smile? More often than my real smile  57: What do I think about most? Past mistakes 58: Do I have any strange phobias? You know how ppl are scared of flying on planes? Well, when I was young, I saw a movie where an astronaut's tether to his ship got cut and he floated away to his death, and the scene must've stayed with me, bc I was scared of flying, not bc I thought the plane was going to go down, but I thought we’d go too high, and we'd accidentally get stuck in space and die there. lmao I really didn't understand atmosphere as a child. So whenever the turbulence hit, everyone was like “I hope we don't go down,” I was praying “I hope we don't go up” 60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? Behind, i think 61: What was the last lie I told? Its ok 63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? ghosts no, aliens yes 64: Do I believe in magic? Science is magical 67: What was the last book I've read? Red queen 68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? Lol yeah 69: Do I have any nicknames? noor, for myself: dumb bitch 72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue? No, i don't really care to either  78: How can you win my heart? Be funny and be nice 79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? Idk, y'all suck 80: What is my favorite word? Atm: y'all 82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? Stop having kids 84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? To fly 86: What is my current desktop picture? Flowers🥀🌻🥀🌻🥀 :) 90: Failed a class? Had an F for awhile, never failed 93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? on my bucketlist ;) 98: Played on a sports team? Does PE count? probably not 

99: Weird desire? I want bigger hands 103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? Vegetarian 110: Gotten my heart broken? Yeah :( 111: Been to a professional sports game? No, Thank God 118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? no 124: Voted in a presidential election? yes, but she lost to an oompa loompa 127: Met someone famous? No :( and i live in LA, so it should've happened already 128: Stalked someone on a social network? Fk yeah 129: Peed outside? Not that I can remember, ever 130: Been fishing? No, and like, i want to, but i don't want hurt the fish 132: Been rejected by a crush? Informally, yeah 133: Favorite K-drama? Heartless City, and i think, Smile You, Jung Kyung-ho can GET it

134: Favorite Ship? idk, maybe Klaroline

What is your idea of paradise?  In nature, alot of greenery, like a meadow, empty for miles around, gloomy af, raining hard, like to me that is heaven on earth Do you believe in god and if so what is he/she/it like?  I'm an atheist :) I don't believe in God. 159: Which do I value more in others, brains or beauty? neither, inner beauty, intelligence doesn't matter 183: What is my spirit animal? panda 184: How do I want to be remembered? i don't tbh, pls forget me, Obliviate bitches 185: If I could master one skill, what would I choose? idk playing the piano, typing without looking at keyboard, a lot of button pressing going on here, genuine confidence

190: If I could time travel, where and when would I want to go? the future, im curious  191: What makes me the happiest? rainnnn, gloomy weather, a warm cup of cha, and a good book, or my tv shows 194: If I could choose my last words, what would they be? fuck y'all tbh 195: Would I ever want to encounter aliens? fk yea, take me away homies 199: Live in the city or suburbs? suburbs, i want sum peace and quiet, city life is glamorous, but you realize it's kind of a facade every once in a while

216: Favorite fictional character? Atticus Finch

[yeont4n]

Answer all!!

here we fuckn goooooooooo

we are bulletproof: if you could be any superhero, who would you be and why?

u kno that 1 girl from sky high whose only power was shapeshifting into a hamster? her. no reason

no more dream: if you woke up tomorrow to be incredibly famous, how would you react?

id go check my mailbox to collect all my free promotional gifts and then prolly fake my own death

i like it: if you could reverse any moment in your life, what would that moment be? 

there’s 1 thing but im not rlly gonna expose myself like tht on here smh

n.o: biggest pet peeve?

loud chewing/loud eating,,,,,,

we on: how do you deal with people who don’t like you?

i dont deal wit it lmfao it’s not my business who likes me n who doesn’t unless someone’s being particularly vocal about it:// in that case i’d prolly jus laugh about it

if i ruled the world: what would you do if you found out that you were an heir to a wealthy kingdom?

lmfao. idk tbh prolly decide which breed of dog i wanted to be known for loving

coffee: what’s your coffee order?

i dont order coffee often buh somethin w a lot of sugar.

cypher pt. 1: if you had to be part of a kpop group, what position would you want to be (i.e. leader, visual, lead vocal, dancer, rapper, maknae, etc.)

maknae i guess? how about staff

rise of bangtan: when and how did you get into the king and legends, also known as bangtan sonyeondan?

i saw a video of yoongi performing intro:nevermind in like 2015 n was :o ! buh never looked into it. in 2016 i saw the fire and bst dance practice vids and was like :0!??? but again, never looked into it. then finally spring day/not today mvs dropped n i FINALLY looked into who these boys were n jus fell down an ever spiraling rabbit hole.. now we here

satoori rap: what does home mean to you?

a feeling. i mean i have a few physical manifestations of the concept of home: my town, my school, my house. things i can return to. but really it’s a feeling isn’t it?? safety, familiarity, comfort, fondness

boy in luv: when you are interested in someone (romantically, sexually, etc.), does your behavior change?

yeah probably altho i dnt have many data points to go over rn

just one day: who would you want to spend the last day of your life with?

yall expectin me 2 say bts buh id want 2 be wit my friends n family . bts can b there 2 if they want

tomorrow: goal that you would like to achieve within the next year?

get into..... college.....

cypher pt. 2: one thing about yourself you wish people would appreciate more?

i never express appreciation n all that verbally thru words or physically thru touch buh i have my own ways of showin tht i care n i guess it dont count if i dont communicate explicitly like: hey ilu ! . what happened to actions speak louder than words smh

spine breaker: what is your weakness when it comes to spending money?

makeup!!!!!!!!!! >

jump: favorite childhood memory?

getting my dog tina!!!!

miss right: what is your ideal ‘type’?

physically i tend 2 like the boyish types likkee think taehyung inu era i guess. boy next door vibes; ive never rlly been into the macho build or the preppy, neat look, or the rough around the edges, angsty shithead badboy exterior model like i like my boys S.O.F.T.! puppy-ish!

personality wise i guess jusssss idk i’m gonna copy n paste a list of qualities i look 4 in a partner that i wrote for a different ask game a while back: Sense of humor, openmindedness, compassion, reliability, ability 2 communicate directly/emotional maturity, ambition/drive/work ethic, etc.

i like it pt. 2: dream date? 

yall prolly expecting me to say smthn like staying in n watching movies n eating junk but i’d prolly wanna go out n do smthn ngl. not a movie where u can hardly even speak or a dinner date where u feel trapped n stiff buh smthn fun n mildly competitive n engaging ??????? although jus chillin dont sound so terrible either

danger: have you ever had a near-death experience?

kinda not really it was on hampton beach n i had an allergic reaction but i wasnt on death’s door or nuthn

war of hormone: most embarrassing moment?

i bled thru my fucking pants in like 7th grade n it got on the chair! it was bad lol i was jus talking about this w my friend n she was like “yeah i remember that haha:)” shut up caitlin

hip hop lover: three songs that are meaningful to you?

moonlight sonata, ballade no. 1 in g minor, bts’ entire discography ties for 3rd

let me know: are you good at keeping secrets?

no lmfao . keeping my own, sure.

rain: most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?

some words that have never been used to describe me, grace: spontaneous, easy going, flexible. the most impulsive thing i’ve done is prolly take a random sidestreet omw home just for the heck of it lol

cypher pt. 3: favorite outfit to wear?

cute jeans w a belt, a crop top. white adidas. i like dresses too tho!! n i really like layered clothes (a mock turtle neck under a slip dress or like a pinstripe button up under a babydoll fit blouse. i jus think it’s fuckin adorable)

blanket kick: longest time you’ve spent lying in bed (sleeping or not)? 

prolly 2 or 3 days

24/7 = heaven: what are you most looking forward to?

fuck i rlly dk . doesnt that suck??

look here: do you have any hidden talents?

i can burp on command lmfaoofdj

second grade: proudest accomplishment?

dont ask me this if u dnt want to be made uncomfortable by how genuinely unproud of myself i am lol

i need u: are you in love?

wit k*m t*aehy*ng? yeah.

hold me tight: does physical contact comfort you?

no........... maybe i havent found the right person but it’s not my cup of tea generally speaking

love is not over: ever had your heart broken?

no but now i know what i can look forward to haha

dead leaves: how loyal are you?

im rlly loyal if that commitment is mutual. w my family i’m ride or die i’ll fuck anyone up who comes for my asshole brother idc!!!!!!!!!

move: last time you cried?

cant remember,, i dnt cry much. prolly watching reply 1988 when bo ra and her dad were exchanging letters on her wedding day.

butterfly: most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?

his name looks similar to my url thats the only hint im giving

run: do you like traveling? if so, where? what’s your dream vacation?

i dnt really like travelling tbh but i do wanna go back to korea one day. not necessarily as a tourist but as a diasporic korean person myself

ma city: if you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

idk. i cant imagine not living in the states tbh but i also cant say i love it here either

baepsae: do you vote and/or keep up with politics?

i can’t vote but i’m in my school’s youth vote committee which runs debates for local elections and registration drives at the end of the year. i kept up with politics a lot more last year but after the election i jus got 2 bitter. i know what’s going on but only sort of surface level smh

dope: what did you want to be when you were younger? how does it compare to what you want to be now?

i wanted to be a teacher lmfao and i wanted to commute to college n save $$ bc i was a practical little fucker even when i was 6. these days i’m not that interested in teaching bc a) i’d be objectively bad at it and b) i was a classroom mentor for elementary schools and... realized i can’t work w kids tht small every damn day i’d rlly snap

fire: are you a spontaneous person?

no~

save me: your favorite place on earth?

rn??? m y bed

young forever: what is one movie from your childhood that you will always treasure?

august rush lol

boys with fun: you’re going on a roadtrip with seven other people– dead, alive, fictional, real, famous, or not. who are they, and why?

really......... seven other people:)? guess.

converse high: how many pairs of shoes do you own?

12??? 3 are the same black heel lmfao n a lot i havent worn in years but i still technically own them. i rlly b wearing the same 4 pairs in a cycle n 1 rotten bleach stained soggy mess for work shoes.

whalien 52: weirdest thing that has ever happened to you? alternatively, weirdest dream you’ve ever had?

weirdest dream i ever had was way too long to type out n had way too many references to people in my personal life to ever be interesting lmao

house of cards: when was the last time you felt sexy?

HAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAAHHAAH?????????????????

boy meets evil: have you ever committed a crime? if so, what was it? alternatively, what is the worst thing you have ever done?

does speeding count smh.

blood, sweat, & tears: kinkiest kink you have?

rolling eyes emoji. pass!

begin: who are you most grateful for in your life?

my parents!

lie: biggest fear?

real talk? failure. abandonment but i’m adopted, how cliche. also bugs

stigma: would you rather know the date of your death or the cause of your death?

date of death bc if i knew the cause but not have any indication of when it’d hit me, i’d be a paranoid agoraphobic wreck for the rest of my life

first love: do you believe in soulmates?

yes but i also believe you can have more than one! and that soulmates aren’t exclusively romantic

reflection: if you could tell your past self one thing, what would it be?

get ur fucking bangs cut

mama: are you good at giving advice?

yeah i think so

awake: if you had to be a flower, which flower would you be?

lazy daisy

lost: how good are you with directions? do you get lost easily?

horrible horrible horrible. directionally challenged. i can’t even find my way to the fucking grocery store down the road on my own. if i ever missed an exit on the highway you’d never hear from me again, i could never find my way back without a gps. i’m dead serious

cypher pt. 4: what do you do to treat yourself or relax?

take a bath or a long long shower. eat smthn warm, drink tea, do a face mask, change my sheets n snuggle up watchin a drama or movie or playin sims

am i wrong: you wake up one morning in the hospital, knowing only your name and a single memory from your life. what is that memory?

wtf how do i answer this lmfao how wud i know lol

21st century girls: do you prefer texting, calling, or video chatting?

texting! calling if it’s a long story though

2!3!: your favorite thing about bangtan?

their modesty and grace ! they’re a true underdog success story >

spring day: who do you miss right now?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

not today: what are your procrastinating right now?

math summer work smh

wings: on airplanes, do you prefer the window seat, the middle seat, or the aisle seat?

window seat!

you never walk alone: how many people do you trust with your life?

4?